Well, the update took a little longer than expected but here it is! Thanks for all those wonderful reviews. I just want to say in response to one of the reviews posted: Things are not going to be as easy as they may seem. I have a couple plot twists up my sleeves…But I can't tell you what they are just yet… he he he *laughing evilly to herself*

Note to be made: I think from now on, I'm going to be posting shorter chapters then I normally would so that I can update faster for all you wonderful readers. A usual chapter for me is about nine or more typed pages, but it takes a long time for me to write one of those. So for time's sake and my reader's (probably short range) attention span, I'll be going more frugal with my words.

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JRR Tolkien or whoever actually holds the rights to Lord of the Rings…So in layman's terms, Legolas ain't mine.

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"Thank you, Aragorn. I could not stand to be flat on my back any longer. I needed to move around," Legolas said weakly as he held onto the Ranger's strong shoulder for support. Slowly placing one unsteady foot after another in front of him, the wood elf gradually made his way towards the open doorway of his palace guest room that led out to the room's large private balcony outside. Locking his eyes in dead set determination on the seemingly distant balcony, Legolas added in a strained voice, "I doubt I could have asked anyone else to help me. I hate to admit it, but I am embarrassed to have to be helped like this - as though I'm a child just learning how to walk."

"Think nothing of it. Just don't strain yourself too much," Aragorn cautioned, walking at barely a crawl to keep beside Legolas as the elf pushed himself to walk unaided. Pity went out from Aragorn's heart as the Mirkwood elf struggled on beside him.

Despite Elrond's orders that Aragorn or some other attendant was to be by Legolas' side if he should stand and walk around a bit, the warrior refused to let the Ranger help him any more then by just being there to fulfill the king's orders. Aragorn said nothing about this decision, understanding that Legolas' ego had suffered heavy damage from his weakening illness and failing health.

Nearing the threshold of the balcony Legolas paused for breath, unconsciously leaning more onto Aragorn as his body sagged in exhaustion from the short ten foot journey from his bed. His vision blurred slightly for a second before managing to focus again. Sweat glistened on his brow as he quickly wiped his hand across his forehead and pushed back several loose strands of un-brushed, long blond hair from his face.

"You should not be pushing yourself so hard, Legolas," Aragorn said with concern, seeing exhaustion written on the elf's face, "I admire your determination, but you are not well. You must rest." Trying to turn Legolas back inwards towards the empty bed that sat forlornly against the far wall of the darkened room, Aragorn was dismayed as the elf planted his feet firmly and shook his head stubbornly.

"No," he answered in a strong tone of undisputable finality, "I will not lay helpless in that bed anymore waiting for death. I am going outside to breath some fresh air."

Contemplating his two courses of action; either forcing the elf to submit to more bed rest or actually allowing Legolas the simple victory of going outside to momentarily escape his personal prison of sickness, Aragorn finally hung his head in defeat. "So be it," he muttered, giving a strong shoulder to the weakened elf.

Stepping barefoot onto the chilly stone balcony, Legolas felt a small jolt of rejuvenation course through his debilitated body as the rainy spring air of Rivendell whistled past, pulling the thin white material of his loose shirt and black leggings from off against his body to gently snap and flutter in the wind. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, the elf could feel Nature soothing his soul's troubles and distress.

Coming up to the thick stone banister of the room's balcony, Legolas looked out over the quiet elven city of Rivendell. On the steep slopes beyond the mountain city, the waterfalls that fed the main vein of water that flowed through Rivendell rushed down, swollen with newly fallen rainwater. The dark green of the surrounding wet forests stood in sharp contrast to the gray sky overhead, making the beauty of the landscape touch the elf's heart in a strange mixture of sorrow and awe. The gentle drizzle that fell from the thick gray clouds overhead onto the small overhanging roof of the balcony hissed softly in Legolas' ears, reminding him of warm summer rains in his homeland of Mirkwood.

Taking in a deep breath of the wet earthy air that rose to the wood elf's nose as fragrantly as exotic perfume, Legolas felt a tug in his heart at the sudden thought of never seeing his home again. Memories of the tall ancient trees of Mirkwood ran through his mind as he looked towards the distant green forests. Would he ever see them again? he had to wonder with a sharp sting of longing in his stomach. Would he ever see his father or siblings again? Would he ever have the pleasure of going to another summer festival and dancing in the starlight without any worries of death or pain in his mind?

He knew he needed to think positively and keep faith in Toreingal, Gimli and Gandalf who had ridden out in the wildness only the day before to find him a cure for the dark poison that coursed through his veins. With them rode his only hope. And it was this frail and fragile hope that he had to hold onto it. It was his only defense against succumbing -at least mentally- to his seemingly dark fate.

Thinking of this, the elf strayed his hand over to gently touch his left bicep. The bluish coloring that had first began around the small cut on his finger where the poisoned dagger of Gimli had pierced him had now spread up over his elbow. A dull throbbing pain radiated through the whole area of inflicted bluish skin with every beat of the elf's heart. But what was worse then the pain was the knowledge that the coloring was slowly spreading. Every couple of hours, Legolas could see a new line of progression of the poison slowly making its way up the length of his arm.

Staring out again over the natural beauty of the surrounding landscape, Legolas suddenly could not stand to look at it anymore. It all seemed too perfect and untouched; while he felt defiled and withered, slowly being eaten away by poison and stinking of death. Sickened by these thoughts, Legolas turned sharply from the railing back towards the empty bedroom. Aragorn, startled by his friend's sudden movements, hurried to catch up to the elf as he pushed away from the stone balcony edge and moved back indoors weakly.

"What's wrong, Legolas?" he asked worriedly, quickly catching up to the stumbling elf and placing a hand on Legolas' thin shoulder. Not answering, Legolas recoiled under Aragorn's touch and shrugged the man's hand from off him violently. Becoming further concerned by his friend's unexplained actions, Aragorn demanded more forcefully as he grabbed hold of the elf and easily wheeled him around to face him, "Legolas, what's wrong?!"

Turning on the Ranger suddenly, Legolas shouted with frustrated tears brimming on the bottom of his piercing blue eyes and anger in his voice, "I will tell you what's wrong, Aragorn, if you really must know! I am dieing! And though it may seem to you a natural and expected event, I cannot accept it. I am an Elf - immortal and immune to sickness, yet here I stand, slowly withering away! Unable to stand unless with the aid of another! I have fought in wars and countless battles, never afraid of dieing under the blade of the enemy. But what now? How am I to accept my death if I can not even find dignity in it?!"

As if suddenly drained of all feeling and emotion by this flood of misdirected anger, Legolas fell silent, his head hanging down against his chest in exhaustion. The soft choke of a sob sounded deep from within his throat as he stared at the floor, unable to bear Aragorn's concerned gaze. Unable to find words that seemed suitable as a response, Aragorn could do nothing more then place his hand on the elf's shoulder in reassurance and unspoken comfort.

"I am sorry," Legolas' voiced softly after a moment. All anger had left his tone, replaced by a small sorrowful voice of hopelessness, "I had no right to turn on you like that. This is not your fault. I can feel my body dieing around me, and I am unable to do anything… I feel like such a burden to others. It is because of me war may destroy Middle-earth… But above all else I am afraid of death…"

Closing his eyes against the threatening flood of frustrated tears, the elf again fell silent. The look on the elf's pale, sick face tore at Aragorn's heart as Legolas slowly leaned against the outer wall of the room as if to find some emotional support there.

Stepping forward, the Ranger whispered softly in elvish, "Keep hope, my friend. For hope is the only thing you can hold onto in times like these. But while you may suffer, remember your friends will not forsake you and let you face this demon alone. I am here should you ask for help. You are no burden. The only burden here is the burden of having to see you suffer…"

Looking at the Ranger for a silent moment of contemplation, the elf thought to himself quietly. Finding strength in Aragorn's words, Legolas then slowly pulled himself back onto his unsteady feet. Not saying another word, the elf held out his hand to silently ask for Aragorn's help; accepting the fact that he did need aid in his sickened state. Moving beside Legolas, Aragorn offered his shoulder again, not about to offer any more help to the proud elf then what was asked for.

As the weak elf took hold and slowly dragged himself at a crawl towards the door, he spoke softly, "Aragorn, I feel I must explain for my despair…"

"There is nothing to explain," the Ranger cut off, not fully understanding the direction of the wood-elf's speech, "I understand the helplessness you must be feeling."

"No," Legolas chastened in a low voice, shaking his head weakly. Finding confidence with his long trusted friend, the elf prince continued in a hushed voice, as if afraid of being overheard by any other ears, "Since this poison has entered my body, I have felt the presence of a dark figure whispering of my death…"

Almost halting in his tracks, the Ranger thought at first he had misheard Legolas. But the grim and imploring look for belief on the elf's face told him he had not. Aragorn looked at Legolas sharply with an unreadable face as he listened silently while the elf continued.

"At first it came only in my dreams but now I have begun to hear its soft whisper in my waking moments when I am alone. But when I turn to find the voice, I see nothing. I can feel a shadow following me in the darkness, just beyond my sight but always there - waiting for reasons I cannot know…"

"Legolas…" Aragorn stumbled in a hesitant tone, at a loss for words at how to exactly react to the sick elf's crazy notions of being haunted by a dark, unseen ghost, "What do you mean?"

Staring out before him with a distant look in his eyes, Legolas at first gave no answer. He could tell by the look in the Ranger's eyes that Aragorn did not believe him. He knew he should have never said anything, but he just felt like he needed to talk to someone he could trust. It seemed he would have to face this growing mystery alone.

"I do not know exactly what I mean…" Legolas sighed wearily after a long moment as the two came up beside the large bed of his room, "They are dark, shifting images that I am not sure I have actually seen or heard. Think no more of what I have just said. I have not been able to sleep well as of late…"

Trailing off lamely with this excuse, Legolas could now begin to feel exhaustion quickly stealing over him. The throbbing in his arm felt worse then before and Legolas had to stifle a whimper of pain. All the elf wished right then was to sleep and escape the pain of Eronel's poison at least for time. A cold sweat chilled his skin from the exertion of him traveling to look out onto Rivendell from the balcony. His heart fluttered tiredly as he thought of rest and painless sleep.

Meanwhile, a small shiver of fear was creeping down the Ranger's spine. Worry seized his heart and mind. What could this mean? Truly Legolas had not been lying when he had said he thought he had seen something… or someone. The desperate look in his eyes had told Aragorn that for sure. But surely, he was speaking madness…

Keeping Legolas from just collapsing onto the bed in exhaustion, the dark haired man gently helped the impossibly light elf lower himself down. Fear rose in Aragorn's throat as he silently pondered the archer's insane ramblings.

'This is not good,' Aragorn thought to himself with dread as the elf fell onto the soft sheets, already slipping away into dark unconsciousness, his half closed eyes dimming as sleep took him, 'Lord Elrond said one of the symptoms of the poison was hallucinations… but I did not think Legolas would actually fall victim to them.'

Hiding his sinking suspicions of Legolas' rapidly deteriorating health, Aragorn said reassuringly to the half conscious archer, "Rest now. I will go and see if Lord Elrond has any herbs to ease your pain while you sleep."

Standing quickly from Legolas' bedside, the Ranger hastily made for the door. In his heart as he closed the door behind him outside in the palace hallway was a gripping dread and despair. Legolas was slipping away faster then they had thought; he was already succumbing to the poison's power. Aragorn could only hope and pray that Gandalf, Gimli, and Toreingal would return soon. Because if they didn't, blood would stain Middle-earth and war would destroy all that they had suffered and fought to preserve only several years before…

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Meanwhile, leagues away from Rivendell in the deep forests of the Misty Mountains, the same gentle spring rain that had soothed Legolas was not such a welcome experience to the small group of three weary travelers that steamed ahead through the misty drizzle. Everything for the past day and a half had been cold and wet. Their thick cloaks were sopping wet with rain water as were their packs, making travel utterly miserable.

The band weaved quickly between the thick trunks of towering ancient gray trees in the endless sea of rain dripping forest. Keeping in a straight line, the tired travelers urged their horses to keep a slow but steady trot. Snorting in distaste for their riders' request, the swift elven steeds of Rivendell nevertheless complied. Steam raised in small wispy tendrils from off their hides to waft up and disappear in the cool misty air as they took the next hill with unbroken strides.

Accustomed to hard rides and long distances, the horses clip clopped with hollow hoof beats over the steep and rocky terrain. Any other normal horses would have found the mountain path difficult and treacherous, but not the ones chosen by Lord Elrond for this urgent mission. They were the swiftest and most hardy steeds Rivendell's king could provide.

Tall walls of steel gray stone and rock spiraled upwards to the overcast sky where the snow covered peaks of the surrounding mountains then faded away into the clouds as the travelers passed between them. Hanging overhead of the small band of travelers was a thick mesh like canopy of dark green leafs that managed to stave off much of the falling rain, but allowed some drops of water to patter down onto the brows of the weary strangers.

"How much further do you think this valley is?" Gimli, the dwarf, asked miserably from behind Gandalf's pure white stallion, Shadowfax. The dwarf gripped the reigns tightly as the group startled up another slope of mountain terrain. Even with the stirrups of the saddle notched to their highest level, the dwarf's toes barely grazed the metal rings that dangled from the horse's side. As awkward on a horse as a Hobbit in a boat, Gimli asked hopefully, "We have been riding now for a night and a half day without rest or stop. Shouldn't we be nearing it by now?"

Glancing over his shoulder from beneath his wide brimmed white hat, the white wizard replied, "I should think by Lord Elrond's directions that it should be somewhere beyond this ridge we are now crossing. If I am correct about this, then we have made better time then originally thought, thanks to Lord Toreingal's expert motivational skills and leather driving whip…," Gandalf finished with a sarcastic undertone in his gentle voice that was directed towards the elf that rode several paces ahead of the two.

Hearing his name mentioned, Toreingal wheeled around in the saddle of his dapple gray mount and snorted from beneath the hood of his dark green traveling cloak, "While you may find this something to make jokes about, I do not, Wizard. My cousin lays dieing back in Rivendell as we speak. Speed is our greatest concern right now, and I will not dally in bringing Legolas the only known cure to this poison. I could have probably been on my return trip by now with the enchanted water if Lord Elrond had allowed me to go alone as I had wished. But no! He had to let that dwarf accompany me so he could slow me down and sabotage the mission!"

Giving Gimli a piercing warning glance from his pale gray eyes, the elf turned back in his seat and urged his horse to a faster trot with a quick tap with the heels of his boots, leaving the wizard and dwarf in his tracks. Clamoring up the steep wet slope to the top of the ridge of the thickly forested hill, Toreingal's cloaked figure slowly faded away like a ghost into the misty rain. Finally, after a few brisk strides of his horse, he had figured he had put enough distance between himself and his companions and slowed again to a slow trot to be alone with his thoughts.

"Don't listen to him," Gandalf said softly to Gimli as he eyed Toreingal's ghostly outline several yards ahead, "I understand his frustration, but he has no right to take it out on you or I."

"He has a right to blame me," Gimli refuted sadly, sighting down the line between his horses ears awkwardly to where Legolas' cousin plodded ahead through the rain. Going over the ridge of the hill they were ascending, Toreingal disappeared from view on its other side, "It is because of me and that accursed dagger that we had to go on this journey- although I do not regret undertaking it. I owe Legolas that much to be the one to go in search of a cure…"

The white wizard looked back over his shoulder to the dwarf as he patted Shadowfax gently on the neck to motion for the horse to slow a bit to draw back alongside Gimli. Letting the soft hiss of the spring rain fill the silence of the forest around them, Gandalf said in his wise grandfatherly tone, "I also understand your frustration for Legolas' suffering, Gimli. But you are not to blame for this. You will be of no help to Legolas if you do not realize this soon. He does not blame you, so you should neither. There is a great friendship between you and he. And it is because of this, you were unable to not go to his aid."

The dwarf nodded his stout little head thoughtfully at this. "Perhaps you are right, Gandalf… But I will always feel responsible for Legolas' suffering."

"Hmm.. You speak as though Legolas has already fallen into darkness…" Gandalf noted grimly with a turn of his head, letting the rainwater that had gathered on the brim of his hat to run off in several small rivers.

There came no reply from the guilt ridden miner as Gimli rocked back in forth silently in his saddle, staring out in front of him deep in thought. The words of the wizard hung ominously in the air like a thick fog. Seeing pain in the dwarf's dark eyes, Gandalf spoke no more, letting the soft rhythmic hoof beats of the horses fill the void.

After several moments of uneasy silence, there suddenly came a shout from over the ridge. Coming over the ridge in a quick gallop, Toreingal's hooded form came into view. Slowing his horse as he neared Gandalf and Gimli, the elf shouted excitedly, "There is a break in the mountain range just ahead - a narrow path only several paces wide. I would have probably missed it through the trees if I had not been looking for it. I can see a valley beyond."

"That is good news," the white wizard nodded at Toreingal's report, "We have finally reached Eronel's valley then. Come. Let us hurry, for we mustn't stay here long. I have already sensed a faded but lingering shadow of dark magic."

"Then let us not stand here talking and wasting precious time," Toreingal snorted impatiently as he wheeled his horse around and spurred it onwards back over the ridge, not waiting to see if the others were following.

Staring after the elf's quickly retreating figure through the misty rain, Gimli tightened his grip on the horses reigns and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, urging his mount to follow. Whining in response, Gimli's chestnut brown horse gaited easily up the ridge with its rider bouncing recklessly in the saddle like a sack of flour. Following close behind, Shadowfax bounded up the slope as easily as a jackrabbit towards the pass of Eronel's valley.

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I know I left it off at kind of a weird place, but hey! That's life… Anyway, things will be picking up very soon! Remember that plot twist I mentioned up top? Well, it'll be in the next chapter or so, so keep a look out for it! *chuckles evilly to herself again*

So if you liked this latest installment of Legolas torturing, drop me a review and hassle my lazy butt to get another chapter out soon! Thanks again for all those that have reviewed!

Signing out

-LAXgirl