Hey everyone! Thanks so much for your awesome reviews! Here's chapter 3!

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"He is feverish."

Elrond sighed, having expected his son's words. Laying his own hand on Legolas' forehead, he was relieved that the fever wasn't high…but he feared that it would not remain low for long.

Evening had come to Rivendell, and the twins had left the house a few hours ago to try to find out what had befallen the Prince of Mirkwood. Someone had attempted to kill their friend, and they wanted to know why.

Aragorn sighed as he placed a wet cloth on Legolas' forehead. It almost seemed like yesterday that Legolas had lain here suffering from a severe case of a potentially fatal mortal illness. He had feared that his friend would die, but Legolas survived, and they'd later succeeded in obtaining the antidote to restore Legolas' elven healing ability. It had taken nearly three stress-filled months for the elf's body to return to him what he'd lost. Only for Legolas to die a year later? Aragorn thought. No!

The door suddenly opened, and the twins walked in.

"Did you discover anything of importance?" Elrond asked.

Elladan shook his head, sadly. "No. We didn't tell anyone what has happened; if the killer found out that Legolas is here, he'd simply come to finish what he started. We walked about and listened to as many conversations as we could."

"And we made note of everyone that we saw," said Elrohir. "Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Everything seemed normal."

"Well, this is not normal!" said Aragorn, pointing at the unconscious Legolas.

Despite the situation, the twins both raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of their father.

Aragorn sighed inwardly. "That is not what I meant—"

"We know, brother," said Elrohir. "Someone in Rivendell tried to kill our dear friend, and we will find out who!"

"There was more than one attacker," said Elladan, eyebrows raised at the sudden realization. "We found Legolas' bow and an unfired arrow laying beside him. He'd had no chance to fire! His quiver was full, meaning that he hadn't shot any arrows at all. He did not simply stand there and let one man shoot him four times; he was unable to shoot back because he was hit by more than one arrow at once!"

The others pondered his words, nodding.

"So he was ambushed," said Aragorn. Sighing, he rewet the cloth on his friend's forehead. "You need to wake, Legolas," he said, softly. "Tell us who has done this to you!"

Legolas remained motionless, skin pale and his breathing shallow.

"We should have guards posted at his door," Elrohir said to their father. "I shall see to it if you wish."

Elrond nodded. "That would be wise."

Elrohir left the room, and Elladan sat on the bed, facing their unconscious friend. He carefully opened Legolas' shirt and peeled back the edge of the bandage covering his chest, studying the wound.

Elrond recognized the look of deep thought on his eldest son's face. "Elladan?"

"I was wondering," said Elladan. "Who is to say that orcs have not managed to accumulate Rivendell arrows over the years? How do we know that orcs did not do this?" He sighed. "If so, then there could be poison."

Aragorn looked at their father, his eyebrows raised. Of course, orcs could take and keep Rivendell arrows from deceased bodies.

Elrond stepped forward with concern, looking the wound over. It was red and inflamed around the edges, as was typical, but there was no abnormal discoloration or leakage.

Elladan moved on to Legolas' shoulder and arm, while Aragorn checked Legolas' leg.

"If orcs did this," said Aragorn, "Why would they leave Legolas there? Would they not have carried him off…one elf, riding alone?"

Closing Legolas' shirt, Elrond thought for a minute before he answered. "Unless they were driven off before they had a chance, by your arrival…" he realized the unlikliness before even finishing his words. "No, they would simply have attacked the three of you also."

"But wait," said Aragorn, pausing as he replaced the bandage on his friend's leg. "It cannot have been orcs, for Legolas would have sensed their presence."

Everyone was quiet for a minute, realizing the truth in Aragorn's words. Legolas would've known that the orcs were there, and fired before the creatures did. Each of the Mirkwood Prince's arrows was accounted for, which proved that he had been caught unawares.

Elrohir came back into the room then, and he stared at the other three, sensing their uncertainty. "What did I miss?" he asked.

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Heredil was hardly aware of anything as he rode. His injuries throbbed, but his mind was elsewhere as a combination of emotional and physical shock clouded his senses. All that he could see in his mind was Legolas lying in the grass completely covered in blood, with the hideous arrows protruding from his body.

Many times, Heredil had seen Legolas wounded, but not as badly as this. The younger elf had suffered many wounds that had nearly killed him, but he had always received the proper healing care that saw him eventually recovered. This time, Legolas had been left at the mercy of those mercenaries.

Closing his eyes, Heredil wasn't able to prevent sudden tears. Legolas was dead; if those people didn't deliberately kill him, then he had died from massive blood loss. That arrow was in his chest…he thought. He probably drowned in his own blood!

A choked sob made its way past his lips, as grief nearly overwhelmed him. He loved Legolas like a son—Like the son that I've never had.

Shaking his head, Heredil tried to force back thoughts of his wife, Linwe. She had sailed very long ago, and they'd never had any children. A mere few weeks after she left, Thranduil's wife had given birth to Legolas, and the tiny elfling had helped Heredil's heart to heal. But now, Legolas is dead!

A whinny suddenly broke into Heredil's despondent thoughts, and he realized that he'd fisted his hands in Nifredil's mane. He released it, murmuring an apology that the horse accepted with a neigh.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, Heredil wiped at the tears that soaked his cheeks. No…Legolas cannot be dead! Thranduil will not be able to live without him…and neither will I!

Nifredil suddenly gave a snort, as if agreeing.

Heredil urged her to go faster, determined to ride through the night without stopping.

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The night was a long one for Elrond and his sons, as Legolas' fever rose. They worked diligently to lower it, for the Prince was extremely weak from the massive blood loss, and they knew that his body might not have the strength to survive it.

Not once did Legolas stir or make any sound. He lay there completely motionless, his skin extremely pale despite the fever-flush on his cheeks.

Aragorn sighed as he refilled a bowl with water. They'd resorted to leaving wet towels on Legolas' body to help reduce his fever. Between Elrond's herbs and the compresses, the injured elf's fever should have lowered by now, but it hadn't. Legolas' body was just too weak, and everyone was terrified that he was dying.

Aragorn furiously blinked back tears that he refused to shed, not wanting his father to see.

Elrond heard his son's sudden sniff, and turned to look at him as he approached the bed.

Aragorn inwardly sighed at his father's exceptional elven hearing, but he didn't protest when Elrond took the bowl and set it down before pulling him into a sudden hug.

"Legolas has survived much in his life," Elrond said. "He is not well, but we must have hope."

Aragorn sighed as a few of the tears escaped, disappearing into his father's robes. He nodded at Elrond's words before pulling away, giving him a slight smile as he reached for the bowl.

Elrond smiled back, squeezing his son's shoulder as he removed the towel from Legolas' forehead, to check his temperature. There was still no change. A thought suddenly struck him. "We need to send a message to Thranduil."

Aragorn winced at the words. "He will surly forbid Legolas from ever coming here again if…" He suddenly stopped, nearly choking on the words. If he lives.

Elrond pretended that he didn't notice. "I shall return. If the twins come back before I do, be sure to keep them here."

Aragorn nodded as his father left the room. When light had dawned, the twins had gone back to the place where they'd found Legolas, to see if anything could be learned of the events surrounding his attack. That had been a few hours ago, and Aragorn wished that his brothers would return soon to tell them what they'd learned.

Elrond returned before them, however, and told Aragorn that a messenger had been sent to Mirkwood.

Rewetting the cloth on his friend's forehead, Aragorn desperately prayed that Thranduil wouldn't arrive to find his son dead...