Word quickly spread about the Mirkwood Prince's condition, and the command went out that anyone who knew any information was to immediately report it to the King.

Meanwhile, Legolas remained unconscious.

Aragorn was urgently going through his books, searching for information on toxins that caused Legolas' symptoms. There was more than one, but there were other possible symptoms also that Legolas didn't have—yet. Or perhaps he did; for all Aragorn knew, there could be other things ailing the elf that he didn't know about thanks to Legolas' unconsciousness.

Faramir took it upon himself to head an investigation. He asked gardeners which toxic plants grew in Gondor, and he spoke to the kitchen staff. The cooks were bewildered, and gave Faramir a list of foods that had been served at breakfast that morning and at dinner the night before.

Walking into Legolas' room, he found Aragorn sitting at the elf's bedside, wiping their friend's forehead and face. Books lay on the King's lap, the nightstand, and the bed, while discarded ones lay on the floor. "How is he?"

"Bad," Aragorn answered, anxiety lacing his voice. "His fever is high and his pulse is very weak. If only he would wake, so that I might learn if there are any new symptoms!"

Faramir sighed and handed him some parchment. "Here are lists of local poisonous plants, and all food that was served last night and this morning. The luncheon list is there also, though I know you said he could not have acquired the poison then."

Aragorn nodded. "His pain struck two hours after the mid-day meal. Ordinarily, that would sound as if he consumed it then, but only if the pain was in his stomach, here," he said, pointing to the appropriate place on the elf. "But Legolas said that the pain is down here." Aragorn pointed to beneath the elf's navel. "Which shows that most of the poison had digested and moved to his bowels. When I touched his abdomen, I felt some swelling within. If he'd consumed the poison at lunch, it would not have been digested yet at the time that he fell ill."

Faramir nodded, understanding. "He said that the pain is in his stomach also, though, when he showed us the location."

Aragorn nodded. "But he didn't tell us if there was a difference in intensity. It is possible that some of the poison had not yet left his stomach at the time."

Faramir nodded again, as Aragorn read the list of food.

"Eggs, ham, porridge, bread and honey, fruits, and cheeses. What did I eat?" the King wondered aloud. "Eggs and ham with the honey-bread."

"I had exactly the same," said Faramir.

"What did Legolas eat," Aragorn said, thinking. "He had some apple slices with cheese. He did not eat much—why? Had he already eaten something else? Had he already been feeling ill?"

Faramir sighed, watching Legolas as the unconscious elf breathed softly.

Aragorn echoed it, but his was louder and almost shaky as he reached a hand to feel the elf's pulse. "We need to find out what is causing this—I do not know what damage is being wrought inside his body!" He again felt Legolas' abdomen, frowning.

Unexpectedly, Legolas' body spasmed at the touch, and he gave a cry of pain.

"Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed, reaching over to put a hand on the side of his face. "Can you hear me, my friend?"

Legolas' eyes were closed tightly and his hands balled into fists. His breath came faster, turning into gasps.

"Please, Legolas, look at me!" Aragorn pleaded.

The elf tried to open his eyes, succeeding it getting them open halfway. He blinked a few times and Faramir handed the King the wet cloth, which Aragorn wiped along the elf's fevered face.

"What did you eat this morning?" he asked. "I saw what you had for breakfast. Did you eat anything else before that, or before lunch? Did you eat anything after dinner last night?"

Legolas blinked again, having a hard time following Aragorn's words. He tried to remember what he'd eaten and started to shake his head, but suddenly stopped.

"What, Legolas?" Aragorn asked.

The elf tried to talk, but his entire body was shaking from pain.

"Water," Aragorn said to Faramir, who grabbed the pitcher that sat on the nightstand and poured some into a cup, handing it to the King. Faramir lifted Legolas up and Aragorn held the cup to his lips.

Legolas drank some of it, but because his breathing was gaspy, he choked.

Aragorn pulled the cup away, frowning when the elf gave another pained cry after coughing. The motion had obviously hurt; Legolas placed a hand on his abdomen and turned his head, scrunching his shoulders as if he wanted to curl up again, but he lacked the strength.

"Try to find out if he ate anything else," Aragorn told Faramir, as he ran over to the table and mixed some more painkilling herbs.

Faramir obeyed, repeating the question to the elf.

Legolas nodded in answer.

"He did, Aragorn!" Faramir called.

Aragorn came back, holding a cup. They helped the elf drink it, and then assisted him in rolling over, where Legolas wrapped his arms around himself again.

"P…p…" Legolas said, in between gasps. "Pastry."

"Pastry?" Aragorn echoed. "Where did you get it?"

"Room," Legolas said, not opening his eyes.

"It was in your room?" Aragorn said, a chill going down his spine.

Legolas nodded, as sweat rolled down his face.

Faramir wiped the cloth over the elf's skin, before holding it against his forehead.

"T-thought…you…" said Legolas, stopping and licking his lips.

"You thought I had it brought to you?" Aragorn said.

The elf nodded, eyes still closed. "S-strawberry."

Legolas' favorite.

Aragorn sighed. "Faramir, go to his room and see if you can find anything left by the person who did this. If there is a plate, please bring it to me."

Faramir nodded and handed the cloth to the King before leaving.

Legolas suddenly groaned.

Aragorn rewet the cloth and held it to Legolas' forehead again. "Forgive me, my friend, I cannot give you anything stronger for the pain until I know what poison it is that you suffer from."

Legolas nodded, understanding.

"Are there any new symptoms?" Aragorn asked, sympathetically.

"Cold," Legolas whispered, eyes still closed.

Aragorn sighed. "That is likely caused by your fever. I cannot cover you, or it would raise your temperature." He paused, sadly watching his friend suffer. "Do you have any idea who would do this to you?"

Despite his pain, Legolas smiled slightly at the question.

"Anyone recent, here in Gondor," Aragorn clarified.

Legolas shook his head. His shivering increased and he gave a shaky sigh.

Standing, Aragorn crossed to the closet and took out a sheet, draping it over the elf in compassion. Since it was thin, he doubted that it would cause an increase in his temperature. He would simply remove it when Legolas slept.

Legolas grabbed it with one hand and tucked it under his chin, curling up even more.

Aragorn sat beside him again, holding the cloth to Legolas' forehead with one hand and gently rubbing his back with the other, desperate to comfort his friend.

The herbs decreased Legolas' pain a little, and his breathing calmed slightly.

A minute later, the door opened silently as Faramir returned. In his hands was a small silver plate.

Aragorn took it and motioned for Faramir to take over his position, handing him the cloth. He took the plate over to the table and looked it over, smelling it to see if any trace of the poison remained. He smelled nothing though, and the plate wasn't dirty at all. "Legolas," he called, suddenly realizing something. "How many pastries were there?"

"One," the elf answered, his voice tight with pain.

Smart man, Aragorn thought. Not risking leaving anything behind. "How did it taste?" he asked, walking back to the bed. "Was there anything odd about it?"

Legolas shook his head.

"Did it taste exactly how the palace cooks usually make them?"

Legolas thought for a minute before shaking his head. "More strawberry," he said. He finally opened his eyes, and smiled slightly. "Better."

Aragorn returned the smile. "I won't tell the cooks that you said that."

Legolas' smile widened, but was quickly replaced with a wince and he closed his eyes once more.

Aragorn went back to his books, looking now for a poison that was tasteless.

Not long after, Legolas lost consciousness again, perhaps giving it up willingly to escape the horrible pain.

"Are there any poisons that you think could be the one responsible?" Faramir asked.

"There are a few," Aragorn answered.

"Can you not give him the antidotes to each?" said the Steward. "Or will the herbs react with each other?"

Aragorn nodded. "Exactly. For instance, Purple Weed grows in the woods and has a deep purple pattern on its leaves—"

Faramir nodded. "I know the plant."

"It causes symptoms like Legolas'," Aragorn told him. "But the cure involves a certain flower that combined with a different poison could kill him."

Faramir sighed, shaking his head. "How will we ever learn which poison it was?"

Aragorn sighed, not answering. He put down a book and rubbed his face. "Could you go down to the kitchens to see if there are anymore of those pastries, and ask who made them?"

Faramir nodded and took the plate. "I will also see if this belongs to the palace."

Aragorn returned the nod, and Faramir left again. He reached to check his friend's pulse and found that it had slowed. A stab of fear shot through him. "Do not leave me, mellon-nin!" he whispered. "Please!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Faramir entered the kitchens, to find four women bustling about.

"Oh, Lord Faramir!" said the one who'd given him the food-list earlier. "How is Prince Legolas?"

"Not doing well," Faramir told her. He noticed the panicked looks that each girl wore, and he stored it in his mind as information to tease the elf with if—when—he recovered. "Are there anymore of your strawberry pastries?"

The head-cook blinked. "We haven't made any in the past week. We'd actually planned to make some today."

Faramir frowned. "Someone left one in Prince Legolas' room this morning," he said.

The girls all looked at each other, surprised.

"Is that how he got poisoned?" one of them asked.

"It seems that way," said Faramir. "But please, do not mention that to anyone, not even your families. We do not wish the person responsible to find out that we know this."

The girls nodded, and Faramir held out the plate. "Was this missing, by any chance?"

The head cook took it and walked to one of the cupboards. She opened it and counted the stack of identical plates. "Indeed it was," she said. "And so is another."

"There is another missing?" Faramir asked, surprised.

The cook nodded and looked at the younger girls. "Did any of you damage one and dispose of it?"

They all shook their heads.

Faramir thought for a minute, before asking, "Was there anything to suggest that anyone had been in this kitchen overnight?"

The cooks all thought for a minute, before one of them said, "Yes! I found the jar of strawberry paste on the counter instead of the shelf."

Faramir's eyebrows shot up. "Do not use it, the poison might be in it."

The girl suddenly went pale, reaching out to grab the table. "I ate it!"

"You what!" cried the head cook, as the other girls gasped.

"When?" asked Faramir.

"T-this morning," the girl stuttered. "I was here at dawn. When I found it on the counter, I put some on bread and ate it before putting it where it belonged!"

Faramir was relieved. "Then you are likely fine. You ate it even earlier than Legolas did, and he fell ill hours ago. Do you feel well?"

The girl smiled slightly. "I did until a moment ago."

Faramir smiled back. "Please remember what I said; do not tell anyone what I have told you. If you discover anything more that can help us learn who has done this, please let me know immediately."

The women nodded, and Faramir left. As he walked down the hall, he thought about the still-missing plate. Suppose this man was trying to poison two people, of which Legolas is only one. Who could be the other?

With a gasp of shock, Faramir started running down the halls, making his way to a particular room. Reaching the door, he threw it open to find exactly what he feared—

—A plate containing a lone pastry sat on the nightstand of the King's chamber.

TBC