Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.

/grins nervously/ Um, sorry? Hope this chapter was posted quickly enough! Just as a note, this is the last chapter to be reposted – chapter 11 onwards is all brand new, so we'll see how it goes!

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Elrond wasted no time, heading straight for the door. He called back over his shoulder. "Gilraen, find Berihûn. Tell him I need him back here immediately."

Gilraen paused, reluctant to leave her unconscious son alone. Eventually she gave Estel's hand one last squeeze and followed the path Berihûn had taken earlier, praying that the healer had not strayed far.

Meanwhile, Elrond hurried towards the prince's room, berating himself for not having forced the younger elf to see a healer. He had been so worried about Estel that he had been prepared to take Legolas' declaration of health at face value, when it should have been obvious that the prince was hurt.

The elf lord burst into the guest room, Elrohir close on his heels. For a moment he could see nothing untoward and then he spotted Elladan stood by the window. The twin's face bore a curious mixture of fear and guilt and Elrond felt his stomach clench. Surely it is not too late!

He rounded the bed and knelt beside the stricken prince. Legolas was leaning heavily against the window, eyes closed. Urgently searching for signs of life, Elrond spoke tersely to his sons. "What happened?"

Elladan shook his head. "We don't know, Ada. We came in and found him like this. Ada, his shoulder . . ."

Elrond had already spotted the oozing wound that the twins had uncovered and it worried him. The skin around it was red and inflamed, with tiny purple threads running away from it. Whatever toxin had invaded Legolas' body, it was spreading quickly.

"I need you both to help me carry him to the healing wing. He is breathing," said Elrond, forestalling Elrohir's question, "but only just. Elrohir, get that blanket from the bed; we will roll him onto it. Yes, like that. Now, Elladan, you take his head and shoulders. Try not to move that shoulder more than absolutely necessary. Elrohir, you take the feet and I will support his body. Ready? On my count of three, then . . ."

The twins scrambled into their positions. At Elrond's signal the three elves lifted Legolas up and made their way towards the healing wing, taking care to keep the archer as still as possible. They were glad to see Berihûn waiting for them there, in the room adjoining Estel's. Gilraen was nowhere to be seen, having presumably returned to her son's side.

Berihûn let out a low whistle when he saw the prince, the closest he ever came to admitting surprise. "I thought he did not need to see a healer?"

"Apparently he was mistaken," replied Elrond dryly. "Berihûn, there is some kind of poison at work here. He has an arrow wound in his shoulder and I fear it was almost certainly an orc arrow."

The tall elf understood what his lord was saying. "They would have smeared that vile brew over the arrows as well?"

"They must have done. It would take longer for Legolas to be affected, but then he may have received a stronger dose. Even so, the usual antidote should work." The unimaginative orcs tended only to use the one basic poison and the Rivendell elves had found the cure many years ago. Supplies were always kept in storage, just in case.

Berihûn shook his head. "My lord, we have none left."

Elrond looked up sharply. "None left? What do you mean, none left?"

Berihûn explained. "We cleared out the storerooms last week and most of that particular medicine was out of date. The last of it we used for Estel, to combat those whip marks."

Now that it was mentioned, Elrond remembered draining the bottle of antidote barely an hour ago. He had assumed that there was plenty more, but it appeared he was wrong. Why had Berihûn not made more when he had thrown away the out of date stock?

This, though, was hardly the time for recriminations. Elrond sighed. "Then I will have to brew some more, quickly. I have the ingredients."

Berihûn looked doubtfully at Legolas, who was deathly pale. "That will take time, my lord – time that I am not sure we have."

"Nor am I, Berihûn. But I do not see that we have a choice." Elrond turned away, walking quickly towards the small brewing room. He was trying not to let his worry surface, but it was a hard task. If Legolas' condition had been noted earlier, they would have had more time to play with. Now, though . . . why had the prince refused a healer earlier? Elrond made a mental note to put the question to Legolas. Assuming I get the chance . . .

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Berihûn sighed. Without the antidote to the orc poison, all he could do was treat Legolas' symptoms. His first priority was to slow the elf's rapid pulse and if possible ease his breathing. He crossed the room to the medicine cupboard, looking for the necessary infusions.

"Berihûn, is there anything we can do to help?" asked Elladan. Both twins felt guilty for their part in this disaster. Although they did not get on with Legolas, neither wished the Mirkwood elf any serious harm.

The healer shook his head. "Not really, my lords. The most we can do now is to try and keep him stable until your father has prepared the antidote."

"You are sure it is that particular poison?" Elrohir asked softly. "He looks worse than any victim I have ever seen." His words could not be denied. The Mirkwood prince was pale and waxy, the rise and fall of his chest barely perceptible. His eyes were closed, while the multiple bruises and scrapes stood out lividly against the ashen skin.

"We are as sure as we can be. It would be unusual for local orcs to use a different toxin, especially when you consider that Estel was infected with the usual poison," replied Berihûn calmly, applying some sort of poultice to Legolas' throat. He glanced towards the twins. "The wound has been left untreated for several hours and carrying Estel back from the mountains must have aggravated it. It is only a wonder that Legolas did not fall before now."

Elladan looked up sharply. "He carried Estel all the way back here, from the mountains?"

"So I am given to understand. Apparently the two sat down to rest for a few minutes and Estel lost consciousness. Prince Legolas could not rouse him, so he carried him. No small feat, considering this." Berihûn gestured at the angry looking arrow wound.

Elrohir bit his lip and reached for his brother's reassuring hand. It seemed that their practical joke would have far reaching repercussions.

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Estel opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. His head was pounding and his body felt like a sack of lead. Surely it is not natural for the sun to be that bright?

Slowly the man sat up, wincing as he felt his sore back. Someone had bandaged it neatly, but the wounds still chafed. Not only that, but his muscles felt stiff, as though they had been inactive for a long time.

His eyes adjusting to the light, Estel looked around. He recognised the room easily enough from childhood scrapes and maladies. This was the healing wing, which begged the question of where everyone was – and what had happened?

The young man rubbed his temples, thinking back to yesterday. The hunting trip – he could not find the twins – the orcs! The memories poured back, of how Legolas had arrived just in time and the two of them had set off back home. They had reached the bottom of the mountains and then what? No matter how Estel tried, he could not remember anything beyond that. Maybe Legolas or Ada would know, wherever they were.

Awkwardly, Estel got out of bed, stumbling slightly as his aching legs took his weight. He stood for a moment, flexing his limbs and feeling life return to them. Barefoot, the man padded across to the door, still mystified as to the apparent non-existence of everyone else.

Out in the corridor, away from the well-soundproofed healing room, the reasons became clear. There was some sort of commotion going on in the next room and he could hear his mother's voice.

Silently Estel went to the open doorway and could not restrain a gasp at what he saw. Legolas, easily recognisable by his long blond hair, lay on the bed, his eyes closed. Berihûn's dark head obscured the prince's face as the healer pounded rhythmically on Legolas' chest.

"Come on Legolas, don't give up, just breathe, come on, stay with us . . ." Gilraen kept up a constant stream of comforting words as she grasped the prince's hand – the same way she held his hand when he was ill, realised Estel with a slight stab of jealousy.

Berihûn paused in his arduous task, long fingers searching out Legolas' neck. Whatever the healer found there, it did not appear to please him. He grimaced and turned to the twins, who were standing at the foot of the bed. No one had yet noticed Estel skulking in the doorway.

"Elladan, find Elrond and ask him how much longer he plans to be. Tell him we do not have that much time."

The older twin nodded and whirled round, only to collide with his much younger brother.

"Estel!"

Gilraen looked up and rushed to embrace her fragile son, temporarily abandoning her place at the prince's side.

The man began to ask urgent questions – what was going on, how badly injured was Legolas, where was Elrond – but Berihûn's strident voice cut across the confused babble. "Elladan, get going! Estel, back to bed, you should not be up and about – Elrohir, you go with him. Gilraen, will you please come back here, I may need you."

Elladan slipped out of the door, but before the others could obey the healer's orders, Elrond strode into the room, his eldest son at his heels. He swept across to the bed, ignoring Estel.

"He was already coming, I didn't have to go far," explained Elladan to an uninterested audience.

"You arrive not a moment too soon, my lord," said Berihûn. "He cannot last much longer."

"So I see." Elrond's mouth was set in a grim line. "Will he swallow?"

The healer shook his head, his expression matching Elrond's. "I doubt it. Even if he will, that way will take too long. We need to introduce it directly into his bloodstream." He passed Elrond a small knife. "Gilraen, keep a tight grip on him. He should not move, but you never know."

The woman nodded, returning to the prince. Elladan, Elrohir and Estel waited by the door, watching nervously as their father made a small nick in the prince's arm. Bright red blood swelled up and Berihûn quickly strapped a cloth steeped in Elrond's antidote over the cut. The elf lord stepped back with a sigh.

"We have done as much as we can now. I only hope it is enough. Hannon le, Berihûn." Elrond looked round, appearing to notice his youngest son for the first time. "Estel, why are you out of bed?"

The man fidgeted nervously. "Well, I – I - "

The elf lord raised an eyebrow. "What a cogent explanation. Back to bed, Estel. I have many questions I would like answers to, if you are feeling better. As does your mother, I am sure."

"Just a few," agreed Gilraen, fixing her son with a steely glare. "Are you all right here, Berihûn?"

"The prince should be fine now that we have the antidote, my lady," replied Berihûn. "I will stay with him for a while though – the poison was in his system for a long time without treatment and I would like to reassure myself that his recovery will not be impeded. If all goes as it should, Legolas will be up and about on the morrow."

The twins breathed a joint sigh of relief at that and Elrond eyed them wryly. "You two can come next door as well," he decided. "I want to talk to all three of you."

Elrond led the way, followed obediently by his sons. Once they were all settled in the small healing room, including Gilraen, he bade Estel sit on the bed so that the young man's bandages could be changed.

"All right, then." Elrond began to carefully unwrap the bandages, trying not to cause too much pain. "What happened, Estel? Why did you leave Rivendell? And how came you to be captured by orcs?"

Estel could not bring himself to meet his mother's anxious eyes. "I saw a camp, not far from the borders. I thought that maybe it was something you should be told about, so I went to have a closer look, but - "

"You went to have a look?" interrupted Gilraen forcefully. "Heavens help us, Estel, you are meant to be an intelligent young man! Why didn't you tell the twins or Legolas what you had seen?"

"They weren't there!" protested Estel. "I didn't know they were orcs, I wouldn't have gone if I did, I just - "

"Peace, Estel," soothed Elrond. "Calm down. Tell us exactly what happened after you and Legolas split up."

Estel took a deep breath. Obediently he related how he had been unable to find the twins (Elladan and Elrohir exchanged guilty glances at this) and all that had happened thereafter. When he finally came to a close, there was a moment of silence in the room.

Gilraen was the first to break it. She reached out and clutched her son tightly, drawing him into a warm embrace. "You imbecile, Estel. Don't you ever do anything like that again, do you hear? If I had lost you . . ." Tears filled her eyes.

Estel returned the hug, his own eyes beginning to water. "I'm sorry, Nana." He turned to Elrond. "What is wrong with Legolas? Is it – is it serious?"

"It should not be," replied the elf lord, his dark eyes scanning Estel intensely. "It would seem that he was wounded by an arrow – shot in the shoulder."

Estel's eyes widened, remembering how Legolas had winced when donning his bow. I should have seen – should have known! "But he will be all right?"

"He will be fine, Estel," reassured Elrond. "I would like to hear the prince's version of events, though. It appears you owe him a great deal, ion nîn."

"I know I do," said Estel shamefacedly, looking away. "If he had not come . . . I thought I was going to die."

"Hush, Estel. Do not think of such things." Gilraen caressed her son's brow tenderly. "You should sleep now. Get some rest. You can thank Legolas properly when you are both well again."

Estel nodded. He still felt tired, despite the sleeping draught of the night before. Carefully he lay down on the bed, stifling a yawn.

Gilraen rose to her feet. "Lord Elrond, may I have a word?"

Elrond looked mildly surprised. "Certainly, my lady. After you." He opened the door and the two slipped out, leaving the three brothers alone.

Elrohir collapsed on the bed. "Well, that could have been worse."

Elladan nodded, perched on the bedstead. "I thought Ada would surely lecture us again."

"He might yet," pointed out Estel. He shuffled around, trying to find a comfortable position. "You and your jokes! I swear that this is the last time you get me involved." There was a grin on his lips as he spoke, however, suggesting that Estel did not believe his own words.

Elladan looked affronted. "Are you trying to suggest this is solely our fault? As far as I remember, there was nothing in the plan that required you to walk straight into an orc camp without telling anyone!"

The young man snorted. "It's not that. Did you realise Legolas can talk with the plants? He knew the hole was there long before there was any danger of him falling into it!"

The twins looked at each other. "I told you!" said Elrohir, a note of mock triumph in his voice. "I told you he would spot it!"

"You did not!" objected Elrohir. "In fact, it was your idea in the first place, I seem to recall."

"My idea? I do not think so. No, it was your ill-conceived plan and - "

Estel grinned sleepily. Slowly his eyes drifted shut and he floated off to sleep, lulled by the familiar sound of his brothers' bickering.

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"I want to tell him, Elrond."

Elrond looked at Gilraen helplessly. The pair were back in his study and Gilraen was standing firm, her arms crossed. The fact that she had addressed Elrond directly, without the customary 'Lord', spoke volumes about her mood.

"Gilraen, he is barely grown. He is too young for such knowledge."

"He will be twenty in a few days," responded Gilraen. "What would you have me do? Keep it from him forever? Estel could have died yesterday and never known who his father really was, what his true lineage is. I cannot let that happen! Can you not see what an insult it is to Arathorn, that we do not allow his son to bear his name?"

Elrond did not speak. To tell Estel of his ancestors, to bestow on him the true name of Aragorn . . . such a step was inevitable, of course. Yet some part of him rebelled. It was too soon, the boy could not be expected to carry such a burden of destiny – but no. That was not his true objection, was it? The truth was far more selfish. Over the past eighteen years (and how quickly they had passed, even by elven standards!) he had grown to love the boy as a son. Estel treated Elrond as a father, even calling him Ada, despite the undeniable fact that the relationship was an emotional tie, not a blood one. When Estel – Aragorn – learnt the truth, would he turn against Elrond? The elf lord had always known this day would come, of course, but there had been moments – too many moments – when he had put it out of his mind, had forgotten that Estel had any other relatives or destiny but those which lay within Rivendell.

"Lord Elrond?" Gilraen softened slightly, guessing Elrond's thoughts, but she still stood firm. "If you do not tell him, I will do so alone. He must know of his father and of his fate. The time is now."

She met his eyes. Elrond felt trapped, then angry with himself for feeling such. He was being ridiculous. Of course Estel must be told and sooner was surely better than later.

"You are right, Gilraen. We will tell him, as soon as he has made a full recovery."

Gilraen nodded, satisfied. "It is the only way, my lord." She smiled briefly, sadly and excused herself.

Elrond was left sitting at his desk. He looked at a framed sketch, which had pride of place among all the paraphernalia. In it a chubby, rosy-cheeked Estel was laughing at the antics of a capering Elrohir, while Elladan pretended to be unaware of his twin's prancing. Elrond could remember Gilraen drawing the scene, not long after she had brought her son to Rivendell. It had been a hard time, as Estel adapted to the ways of the elves and Gilraen fought with her grief for Arathorn. That summer day had been the first time Estel had laughed since his arrival.

The elf lord smiled sadly. Estel had had a good childhood, of that he was certain. But now those halcyon days had to be left behind as the boy grew into a man. Elrond could only hope that the resultant changes would not destroy that precious relationship with his youngest son.

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Chapter 11 should be up on Wednesday . . . please review!