Chapter 5:
The Road to Recovery

"…should be…few weeks…recovered…" Legolas knew someone was speaking, but they weren't speaking to him. He couldn't pick up very many of their words, the rest of the speech seeming garbled and confused. He opened his eyes, but that alone caused pain to flare up in the back of his head and he could not stop a small cry from escaping his lips.

The talking immediately stopped and he felt a cool hand on his forehead. A face came into his blurred line of sight.

"…hurts…Legolas?…" Was all he could understand. The voice and the face were unfamiliar. What had happened? Why was he so hurt, since it was obvious from the pain that seemed to radiate from several points on his body? He tried to remember, but could not. He realized that the person must have asked him a question. He lacked the strength to answer it. The face withdrew only to be replaced by another. This one was more familiar. Why was his father here?

He felt frustrated that he could not remember anything. Legolas' fist clenched as he tried to recall something, anything that would give him a clue. His efforts proved futile, so he tried the only other option open to him.

"What….happen…." He forced the words with all the strength he had left. It still came out softly. He then forced his ears to catch the slow reply.

"You were attacked…spiders…." Thranduil's voice said. He felt a hand slip into his and he grasped it, seeking some comfort against the almost unbearable pain. In a flash, it came back to him. Running out of the throne room in desperation, becoming lost in the forest. With a visible shudder, the prince remembered those horrible creatures. He remembered them on top of him, their fangs as they bit into whatever they could find. The pain… Then he had heard a voice. The same voice that he had run away from.

His father had saved him. Exhausted, he quickly fell into unconsciousness.

Thranduil released the small hand when the grip went slack. Relieved that he had gone back to sleep, he rose from where he was sitting on the side of the bed.

"Can he be moved safely?" He asked the healer, who looked surprised by this question.

"Yes, my Lord. We would have to be extremely careful, though." He replied, hoping that he didn't want to do such a thing. This was the one place in the palace where the elfling could be looked after at all hours.

"Will he need anything else besides fresh bandages for his wounds?" Thranduil asked, watching his son's fair features twist into a troubled expression in the hold of a nightmare.

"A poultice will be put on his wounds to help them heal faster and prevent them from becoming infected. Also, pain relievers will keep him asleep most of the time. He will have to be fed broth and water until he can wake up enough to eat on his own." The healer hoped that these things would discourage whatever plan was forming in the Kings mind.

Thranduil nodded. "Have a cot brought to my chambers immediately, along with whatever else will be needed for him." With that, he stooped down and gently picked the sleeping elf up, wrapping the blanket around him.

"Your Highness, please. Allow us to care for him." But a cold glare from the king discouraged any further protest from the healer, and he went to do as he was told.

The King ignored those who stared at him, instead focusing on the precious bundle in his arms, walking slowly so as not to jar his wounds. He was not surprised when Aradwen showed up, falling into step beside him.

Guilt welled inside him. What had he done to cause Legolas to flee like that?

"My lord, what can I do to help?" She asked, eyes full of concern as they fell upon the elfling carefully wrapped in a bed sheet.

"Open my door." He said simply, stopping in front of his chambers. Aradwen did so, and he stepped inside. "Pull that blanket back." He ordered as he stood in front of the large bed, and once again she did so without question. He then laid the sleeping form on the soft mattress and pulled the blanket over him. When he was certain that Legolas was comfortable, he motioned for Aradwen to follow him as he stepped out of the room.

"What am I doing wrong?" He asked, surprising her.

"My lord?" She asked, confused.

"What did I do that made him run away like that? He walked right into a spider's nest without thinking." The King looked genuinely distressed, and that shocked the nurse. She had known Thranduil on a personal basis for quite some time, and he always seemed to have everything under control. The realization that even he could have times of insecurity was quite a revelation.

"Well, I don't know. Perhaps you could tell me exactly what happen during your meeting, as I wasn't there, my lord." She said, sounding quite ready to yell at him after the admission that it was his fault the prince was so badly injured. The King heard this quite clearly in her tone of voice, but said nothing about it.

Thranduil proceeded to tell her exactly what happen. Word for word.

"Would you be angry with me if were to be completely honest with you, my lord?" She asked, and Thranduil feared she would scream at him not matter what he said.

"Of course not. Tell me exactly what I did wrong." He said, almost pleadingly. He was determined to never make a mistake like that again.

"Everything." She said, her pretty face taking on a scowl of disapproval. The King blinked and took a step back, just to be safe…

"Define 'everything'." He said, and his normally powerful voice sounding small and insignificant in the presence of the enraged, and very maternal, she-elf.

"Well, first of all, you didn't even stop to think about Legolas' feelings! You insulted the only family he has had, up until now! He has lived with his uncle all his life and has never had to deal with being a prince and all that will be expected of him in the future! You didn't tell him that it was okay that he didn't know how you use a weapon at his age! He is only five years old! What do you expect him to know about fighting at that age! And did you speak to him like a father, instead of like a king who is talking to some foreigner? No! He is only a child! You should not act so cold with him! And on top of all that, when he arrived, you were too busy with some petty affair that could have waited to greet him! It would have at least made him feel more at home to know that his own father cared!" Aradwen ranted.

Thranduil shrank back slightly. He didn't feel very kingly at this moment. No, he felt like an elfling no older then Legolas, who had displeased his mother. It was very humbling. It also didn't help that she wasn't even making an attempt to hide this 'conversation' from other elves that passed by in the halls. They stared at the pair with open mouths, then quickly moved on, some of them trying to suppress laughter.

"The very first thing you need to do when he recovers is to help him settle in before you even consider setting tasks such as weapon's training to him! Do I make myself clear?" She froze suddenly, realizing that this last question was above her place to ask. That was most defiantly undermining the King's authority. She blushed.

Thranduil couldn't help but laugh at the look on her face. "Yes, mother." He said sarcastically, with a mock bow. "Or rather, my lady. Please, you're highness, tell me more!" He said with a wide smile. Aradwen's blush deepened.

"It would be helpful if you were more kind with the boy, my lord." She said, fidgeting slightly with the side of her dress.

"Helpful? Oh, but your majesty, I do not feel much like being helpful! What are you going to do about it?"

"You will be more kind, whether you want to or not! How do you expect to raise a child if they don't want you to be around!" Aradwen said demandingly.

Thranduil chuckled and grinned. "Oh, very well. If you insist," Then with a wicked smile, added "my lady."

"Yes, I do." She straightened, and walked away.

It didn't take long forthe servants toarrived with a cot and several other things. One brought a trey with two bowls, a cup, and pitcher of water. Another brought a separate tray with herbs and the like on it. Two brought more bandages then he thought it was possible to need on a single person. The healer, who had first seen Legolas, followed, not looking at all pleased with this new arrangement.

"My lord, I wish that you would allow me to look after him. That is my job." He said, but did not push it when he was ignored. "He will need to be fed two bowls of the broth three times a day. Try to get him to drink as often as you can. Change his bandages twice a day. I have written down how to make the poultice that will need to be put on his wounds, but by next week you will only have to replace the bandages. Would you like me to move him to the cot for you, my lord?" He asked when it was clear that the king was going to get his way, despite his wishes.

"No, the cot was for me." Thranduil stated simply. That surprised the healer. The cot was much smaller then the bed and it would surely be easy for the little elfling to be comfortable on it. He wasn't going to complain, however, of this selfless act. He was beginning to feel slightly better about the situation.

"If you are not sure about anything, please come and get me immediately. I will also come to check on him every couple of days." The healer was prepared to fight the king if he tried to tell him otherwise, but once all this was said, he went back to ignoring him. The healer sighed.

He sent one of the servants to fetch his chief advisor. When he arrived, the king was sitting on the side of the bed, carefully helping the semiconscious Legolas with his meal by holding his head up and pouring it into his mouth.

"You wanted to see me, my lord?" He asked, hiding his amusement at the picture he created.

"Yes. Anyone who wishes to see me, or any business that I need to attend to should be sent here." The king said, setting the bowl down and bringing the cup of water up to Legolas' lips.

"But, my lord, a healer can care for the prince. It would be best that you continue your duties as before." He said, amusement fading into annoyance at the disruption this would cause in his schedule.

"Do I make myself clear?" Thranduil growled.

"Yes, my lord." The advisor said with a sigh, and bowed before exiting.

A/N: More revisions. I'm so tired of saying that.