Hey everyone! I started a new full-job this week, so I'm not sure if I can commit to posting on any other day but Saturdays. I can barely stay awake as I write this note! (Runs from angry readers) Enjoy the chapter :)

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"Be still, Legolas, do not move."

The words sounded distant to the injured elf, even though Aragorn was sitting right beside him. Pain consumed his body…his chest, shoulder, arm, leg…he'd never felt so utterly weak, and he feared that death wasn't far.

A hand suddenly slid beneath his back on both sides.

"Lift very carefully," Aragorn said to Thranduil.

The King nodded, cringing at the amount of pain he knew that the movement would cause his son.

When he was lifted up, Legolas gasped at the sudden increase of pain, especially in his chest. He hadn't realized that it could hurt any worse than it already did.

"Legolas!" Thranduil said, his voice sounding choked up.

"Drink, Legolas," said Aragorn, holding a cup to his lips.

Legolas barely heard the words, on the verge of passing out. The pain in his chest was agonizing, and his breath came in fast gasps.

Aragorn saw his friend's head loll to the side, and knew that the elf's consciousness was leaving him. "Legolas!" he deliberately shouted, trying to bring him back to awareness.

Thranduil was startled, and unintentionally jerked, jostling his son.

Aragorn's shout worked, and Legolas gave a pained whimper.

"Drink this, mellon-nin," said Aragorn, gently. "It will help."

Legolas felt the cup press against his lips, and he tried to drink its contents, not caring how it tasted. It seemed to take forever before the cup was emptied, but he finally felt himself being lowered back down and he wasn't able to stifle another whimper.

Aragorn sighed as he carefully pulled his arm out from under his friend. He fixed the blankets over the elf, laying his hand on Legolas' forehead to check his temperature. It hadn't changed.

Legolas' eyes were closed and he was motionless, the wince on his face and labored breathing the only thing that proved his consciousness.

Aragorn wet a cloth and placed it on his friend's forehead, sitting on the bed and laying a hand on his friend's arm through the blankets, careful not to touch the bandages. He looked at the other people in the room, to see Thranduil gently smoothing his son's hair, trying to lend Legolas comfort as he awaited the effects of the painkilling herbs. The twins stood next to him quietly, and Heredil was slumped in a chair beside Thranduil, looking as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Speaking of 'shoulders', Aragorn thought. He was just about to suggest that one of his brothers take a look at Heredil's wound when the door opened.

Elrond came back in and approached the bed, looking at Legolas and inwardly sighing at his pained expression. He picked up the cup on the nightstand, hoping that there had been a sleeping herb in the tea. Sniffing it, he was glad to see that there was.

A few minutes later, the pain-lines in Legolas' face faded as he fell asleep.

Thranduil sighed with relief, glad that his son no longer had to suffer.

"Heredil," said Elrond, putting a hand on the Captain's good shoulder. "I will look at your wound and you will tell my sons and I what you know, as you were obviously with Legolas when this danger befell him?"

Heredil nodded. "Aye, I was indeed…"

For the next ten minutes, he told them everything that had occurred that terrible day. When the twins heard what the men had said to them, they exploded.

"They said that Mirkwood elves are no longer welcome here!" said Elladan. "They…they…"

"They tried to start a war between Mirkwood and Rivendell," said Elrohir, his voice betraying his shock as he finished his brother's sentence.

Aragorn said nothing, his eyes open wide and mouth open slightly.

Elrond, usually so calm and collected, started pacing. He said nothing.

"Then, they fired at us," said Heredil, sighing. "Obviously, we were both hit. They targeted Legolas, for reasons that I know not of."

"Mayhap they were able to see that he was an elf of status," said Aragorn, having finally found his voice.

Thranduil sighed, closing his eyes.

"They tried to force me back to Mirkwood," said Heredil. "To tell Thranduil to keep out of Rivendell. They would not allow me to take Legolas with me." He sniffed, his emotions trying to come to the surface. "I refused to leave him, and that's the last thing I recall before waking on my horse hours later."

Everyone was quiet, thinking on what Heredil had said. One by one they all looked at Elrond, who was, surprisingly, still slowly pacing.

"Ada?" said Elladan, thinking his father's action to be odd.

Elrond stopped and looked at them. "None of the human villages have ever shown hostility to us before. There has to be a reason for this."

The others looked at each other.

"Obviously, these humans feel wronged by elves in some way," Elrond continued. "As soon as the man in the healing rooms is able to tell us which village he is from, I will be sending a group to investigate. Mayhap the situation can be resolved and the attacks ended."

"I want the men who did this," Thranduil suddenly said.

Everyone looked at him.

Thranduil kept his gaze on his sleeping son, his expression hardening. "I wish to punish the men who shot my son! You will not deny me this, Elrond!"

Elrond said nothing, imagining himself in Thranduil's place.

Legolas suddenly moved his head slightly, giving a soft whimper in his sleep.

Thranduil frowned and leaned forward, brushing his hand over Legolas' hair before laying his cheek against his son's head. "Hush, penneth," he whispered, his voice sounding choked up in reaction to his son's pain. "Sleep."

Legolas made another soft sound, his eyebrows furrowed.

Heredil brought up the hand on his good arm and held it over his eyes, unable to let go of his guilt. I left him wounded, dying…

Elrond laid a hand on his uninjured shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You are not at fault," he whispered.

Heredil sighed heavily.

Elrond knelt beside the chair, taking hold of Heredil's wrist, trying to pull his hand away from his face. "Why do you carry blame? You did not fire those arrows."

Heredil allowed the healer to pull his hand away, but he didn't meet his eyes. "I left him lying there," he whispered, almost unable to get out the words.

Elrond smiled gently. "But my sons arrived moments later."

Heredil looked up. "They did?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes. You did not leave Legolas. You cannot blame yourself for being overcome by those men. You did everything in your power."

Heredil sighed shakily, his emotions unstable.

A hand suddenly reached over and clutched his arm, and he saw that it was Thranduil's, who was smiling at him slightly. "He is right, mellon-nin," said the King.

Those simple words were enough to make a few tears escape Heredil's eyes, and he carefully moved his injured arm, laying his hand over Thranduil's.