Thranduil stared at his son, his emotions in turmoil. He sighed heavily, unable to hide his worry.
Elrond looked at him, seeing how troubled his old friend was. "Estel."
The human had been walking towards the door, intent on fetching the herbs that his father had asked him for.
"I'll retrieve them myself," the healer said, gesturing toward Thranduil as he left the room.
Aragorn frowned, realizing that Elrond wanted him to speak to the elf-king. Walking back to the bed, he looked at the half-conscious Legolas, whose eyes fluttered intermittently, and then to Thranduil, who sat clutching his son's hand. "Legolas?" he whispered.
The sick elf half-opened his eyes, looking worse than Aragorn had ever seen him.
Sighing, the human sat on the other side of the bed, clasping his friend's other hand. "I know how you feel, mellon-nin, and I know that the two of you are frightened…how could you not be? This is something that no elf should ever experience," he said. "Mortals deal with sickness every day, but it is not overly common for them to lose their life from it." He smiled gently. "My father is the best healer in all of Middle Earth. You could not be in better hands; you know this."
Legolas smiled slightly, his eyes closing and opening again. "Aye…" he whispered.
"I know what he's going through," Aragorn told Thranduil. "It happened to me years ago." He was sure to leave out the fact that he hadn't been as sick as Legolas. "I wished for someone to end my misery," he told them, smiling at his friend.
Legolas smiled back. "I wish…that someone…would end mine…" he said, his last word nearly being cut-off as he started coughing again.
Thranduil and Aragorn pulled Legolas to a sitting position, holding onto him tightly when his weak state nearly made him fall right back down.
"You've been through this, and survived," Thranduil said to Aragorn. "So you can attest that everything that has happened so far is normal for such an illness?"
Aragorn nodded, bringing up a hand to gently rub his friend's back, accidentally hitting Thranduil's when the king tried to do the same thing. "Yes…although its severity varies with each person."
Legolas' chest pain had lessened thanks to Elrond's earlier painkiller, but after the healer's rough treatment to force some of the fluid out of his lungs, the pain was back with a vengeance and he couldn't stop himself from groaning.
"Hush, Greenleaf," Thranduil soothed, pulling his son to lean against him. "You will be better soon."
Legolas gave no reply, his lung's wheezing renewed.
Aragorn sighed, quickly grabbing the pot of juniper oil that was rapidly cooling. He pushed some hair out of his friend's face, seeing the winces that Legolas was too weak to hide. "Lay him back," he told Thranduil.
The king didn't want to let go of his son, but he knew that Aragorn was a healer and likely had a reason for his request. Reluctantly, he gently reclined his son against the pillows again, accepting the pot of oil when the human handed it to him.
Standing, Aragorn took a small pot from Elrond's healing bag and filled it with water, holding it over the fire for a minute. After the water had grown hot, he went into the washroom and retrieved a towel, bringing it and the water back to the bed.
Thranduil watched as Aragorn dropped the towel into it, before reaching over and opening Legolas' shirt. "When I suffered the same illness, this was something that helped the pain." Taking the hot towel from the pot, Aragorn wrung it out and folded it, laying it on the sick elf's chest.
Legolas flinched from the unexpected heat, but he soon relaxed, some of the pain lines in his face melting away.
Thranduil smiled, smoothing his son's golden hair. "Thank you for your words, Estel," he said. "My mind feels eased."
Aragorn smiled, knowing that had been Elrond's intention.
The door suddenly opened as Elrond came back in, and the healer immediately felt a lessening of the tension in the atmosphere. He knew that Aragorn had succeeded in reassuring the other elves, and smiled at his son as he neared the bed. He immediately noticed the hot towel on Legolas' chest, but also saw the increased difficulty in his breathing.
"He had another coughing fit," Aragorn told him. "He is in much pain."
Elrond sighed, handing Aragorn the herbs that he'd retrieved.
Taking the pot of hot water, Aragorn added more and brought it to the fire, boiling it and dropping in the cherry bark. When he brought it back, Elrond dropped in some more painkilling herbs and added the miruvor.
"Penneth," said Elrond, sliding an arm under him. "Wake; you must drink this."
Legolas kept his eyes closed, wincing when the healer lifted his upper body.
Elrond took the cup from his son and held it to Legolas' lips, slowly feeding it to him before holding out the cup for more.
Aragorn refilled it and watched as Legolas drank, glad that Elrond managed to get both cupfuls into him.
"Now sleep," Elrond said, lowering Legolas back down.
The sick elf made no reply, but his face eventually relaxed as he slipped into dreams.
The rest of the day was very long, as Legolas intermittently slept or coughed. His fever didn't change and when nightfall came once more, his back was showing the bruising that everyone had anticipated.
Legolas' level of alertness wasn't very high, and he briefly had no idea why his back hurt so much.
Thranduil held his son in a sitting position as Elrond rubbed some soothing cream on the bruises, which were quickly turning a deep purple on Legolas' pale skin.
"Estel?"
Aragorn looked at his friend, relieved to see full coherency in his face. "How are you feeling, Legolas, or is that the most foolish question that you have ever heard?"
Aragorn's ploy worked, for the sick elf smiled, blinking his eyes slowly. "For once," Legolas said, softly. "I will not lie…I feel terrible."
Aragorn's smile changed to an expression of sympathy, and he gently squeezed his friend's arm.
"Ai!" Legolas suddenly moaned, closing his eyes and resting his head against his father's shoulder.
"Hush," said Thranduil, smoothing his son's hair. "Elrond is nearly finished."
"Forgive me, penneth," Elrond suddenly said, trying to be gentle.
"No," Legolas mumbled, trying to tell him that he had no reason to ask forgiveness. "I mean…don't apologize…"
Elrond patted his good shoulder. "I understand, Legolas, hush now."
Legolas felt his senses drifting, and Thranduil held him tighter. The sick elf felt detached from reality, and a strange anxiety seemed to claim his heart, as it began to beat faster while coldness suddenly seized his lungs, quickly spreading throughout his body.
Elrond and Thranduil both felt Legolas begin to tremble, and Elrond muttered something in Elvish that was too soft for Aragorn to hear.
"Elrond…!" said Thranduil, as his son's shaking grew worse.
"Another chill," said the healer, quickly getting off the bed and grabbing the extra blankets.
Aragorn helped Legolas lie down as Thranduil climbed into the bed, holding his son tightly.
Legolas suddenly groaned, and Thranduil realized that his grip was hurting his son's back. He sighed heavily, loosening his hold.
This chill seemed to be worse than the first, as Legolas had no control over his body, shaking uncontrollably.
Thranduil suddenly felt a wetness on his tunic, and he felt his heart physically break when he realized that they were tears. "Oh Legolas," he said, his own eyes welling up. "Do not cry, Little Greenleaf…please do not cry!"
Elrond and Aragorn shared a stricken expression at his words. For Legolas to actually be crying…
Making a sound of distress at his best friend's unbearable suffering, Aragorn climbed onto the bed on Legolas' other side, tightly grasping his hand to try to lend some comfort.
Elrond sat on the bed next to Aragorn, rubbing the bottom half of the sick elf's back, where there were no bruises.
"Don't cry," Thranduil whispered again, his eyes closed.
"Let him, mellon-nin," said Elrond, his own voice slightly unsteady. "It will relieve some of his stress."
Legolas was silent in his suffering. He couldn't believe how utterly sick he felt, how bone-chilling cold he was. Despair welled up within him as he realized that they might never find the vanwacoi cure, and if that was so, then Raenwe's poison would kill him in a few short months. Is this what I have to look forward to? he thought. Four more months of terrible illness and then death?
He suddenly heard his father's whispered plea, and Elrond's response. No elf should see their child die! he thought, with a grieved moan as his tears flowed faster. He suddenly realized that a hand was touching his back, and he finally grew aware of the people surrounding him.
Something hard touched the back of his head, and he realized that it was Aragorn's own. Legolas began to feel comforted; people who loved him were there, not letting him suffer alone. He clutched the front of his father' tunic, trying to give Thranduil the comfort that he needed.
Thranduil felt Legolas move and he tilted his son's face up, seeing the tears on his cheeks, but also an expression of sympathy. "Fear not for me, Legolas," he whispered, wiping the tears away with his hand. "Just concentrate on becoming well."
Legolas closed his eyes again, trying to still his shivers.
Thranduil laid his chin atop his son's head, sighing deeply. "Do not fear, ion-nin. We will find the cure," he said, knowing his son's thoughts. "Believe it, as I do!"
Legolas nodded against his father's chest, trying to reassure himself as well as his father.
Everyone was quiet for a while, unable to find words. Legolas eventually fell asleep when his shivers finally abated, and Thranduil joined him in slumber, still holding his son tightly.
"Ada," Aragorn whispered. "The truth, please…is there a chance that Legolas could die?"
Elrond looked at his son, sighing deeply. "There is a chance, ion-nin…but I do not believe that this illness will claim his life. We will, however, need to prepare for the likelihood that he will have a long recovery."
Aragorn nodded, and Elrond slipped an arm around his shoulders as the two of them silently watched the sick elf sleep in the arms of his father.
Thranduil was abruptly woken when Legolas began to cough in his arms. The elf-king felt groggy, not remembering having fallen asleep, but he quickly sat up and pulled his son with him.
Elrond and Aragorn were there, the human looking half-asleep as he jumped out of his chair beside the bed.
It was now day number four of Legolas' illness, and even Elrond was tired.
Sitting on the bed, Aragorn took hold of his friend, noticing with alarm that Legolas seemed unable to hold his head up.
Elrond noticed the same thing, quickly pouring some cherry-bark tea that he'd recently brewed and handing it to his son. Sitting on the bed, he gently lifted the younger elf's head, pushing the golden hair behind his ears. "Legolas?" he said, nervously seeing that his eyes were still closed.
Legolas kept coughing, wincing at the pain in his chest.
Everyone was quiet, waiting for the sick elf's fit to ease. When it finally did, Legolas' eyes remained shut, and he wheezed painfully.
Aragorn held the cup to his friend's lips, telling him to drink. Legolas obeyed, but some of the tea missed and made a small trail down his chin. When Legolas remained immobile and made no effort to wipe it away, everyone felt a chill go down their spines.
Elrond gently tapped the Mirkwood Prince's face. "Legolas, please open your eyes."
When he didn't, Thranduil gently shook him. "Legolas! Can you hear us?"
Legolas' eyes fluttered, but barely opened and Elrond realized with dread that the sick elf was dangerously weak. Despite the miruvor! Elrond realized, with shock. His strength should have grown!
Standing, Elrond moved behind Aragorn and laid his ear on Legolas' back, hearing the fluid that still filled his lungs. Straightening once more, Elrond walked to the end of the bed and put a hand on his chin, thinking.
Thranduil shot the healer nervous looks as he and Aragorn gently laid Legolas down again. "Elrond?"
Elrond sighed, facing the king. "He has grown weaker—"
"Despite the miruvor?!" Aragorn interrupted.
Elrond nodded. "That was my own shocked thought, ion-nin. Though it has been long enough for the dose to have worn off, I did not expect to see further deterioration in his condition."
"What are you saying?" Thranduil asked, his voice unsteady.
"He has a very bad case of this illness," said Elrond. "I only know of one more thing that may help him…"
Thranduil blinked. "Why do you hesitate to use it?"
"It is a drug that I have only given to humans," Elrond said. "It is potent and difficult to prepare. I do not know if it will in fact help Legolas or not, as he is still an elf, despite the vanwacoi."
"Is it a rare herb? What is so difficult?" Thranduil asked.
"It is made from mold," Elrond told him. "I have a supply on hand, but it has been long since I have used it. I need to make sure that it is not outdated." The last sentence he said almost to himself, as he headed towards the door.
Thranduil sighed, looking at Aragorn, who appeared equally worried. Looking down at Legolas, Thranduil smoothed down his hair. "If you can hear me, my Greenleaf, fear not; it shall be well."
Legolas' eyes remained closed, but he smiled slightly at his father's comforting words.
Yes, that is Elrond's version of penicillin, lol! Smart elf, eh? (runs) Don't worry, Legolas gets better in the next chapter! :) Thanks so much for all the awesome reviews! Oh yeah, there's one that I need to answer; someone has asked if this story is gonna be slash. My answer to that: Never! Legolas and Aragorn are best friends! The same goes for Elrond and Thranduil. None of my stories will ever be slash. Stay tuned for chap 19! :)