Finally it's the penultimate chapter. It was hard for me to believe that a vignette I came up with long ago could be turned into a long story and one that readers would enjoy. Of course it is my reviewers that kept this going. I hope you all know the value of reviews. Many of you are authors too, so you guys know what a buzz it is to have some one not only enjoy something you have created, but actually take the time to tell you and not be afraid to advise and critcise too. It does mean a lot. So if there are lurkers reading this who are not authors, please remember that. It costs nothing but it means the world to me.

This was beta-ed by NiRi again, and if you are stuck for something to read when this ends after my Epilogue, go read her stuff. Her stories "Never Again" and "Never Alone" will grab you if you are a fan of the Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn friendship fics. Even if you are not, read her stuff any way, if only to see how a real author writes. Thank you so much, kiddo, for all you have done, and all you have taught me about writing.

One Friend to Another

17:

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Legolas became aware of the warmth first, and he basked in it for a few moments as he became aware of other things, one at a time. The second thing he noticed was the solid support under him of cool sheets and downy pillows, and blankets that enveloped him in comfort. The air around him was thick with the old familiar smell of that herb again, and though he had always hated that smell before, as he lay in the healing rooms in Mirkwood after his many skirmishes, to him now it was as welcome as fresh air.

As he came more aware he heard voices, distant and jumbled at first, then clearer. Hearing words and recognising the people who spoke those words, he kept his eyes closed and listened to the commotion going on around him.

"Give him room, 'Ro…he needs air!" That had been Elladan.

"Both of you give him room!" came a great booming voice in a vibrating timbre that only Mithrandir could produce.

"Lift him up, Elladan. Carry him to the bed and lay him on it." Elrond. Only Elrond could sound so panicked, and yet, in control at the same time. "Avareth, pass me water - he needs to drink."

"Here, give it to me." That voice made a sob catch in Legolas' throat that he barely stifled in time. It was so welcome, so needed by him right now that he had to bite his bottom lip to calm the gamut of emotion that threatened to drown him.

"Of course, my Lord." Now that one he didn't recognise, but the voice was elven and female.

The voices seemed to come closer to wherever he was. Curiosity getting the better of him, and deciding he needed to see what was going on, Legolas opened his eyes. The sudden light overwhelmed him after so long in the dark, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them again, slowly and more carefully, and looked around, he recognised the healing rooms of Imladris. He lay on a large bed at one end of the room, the end near the window where he was always put when he was here before. Elrond had always seemed to understand his need to be near an open window and fresh air. He never noticed that before.

He could see the twins and Elrond, the grey wizard, his Adar and an elleth he couldn't place gathered around the bed next to him. They all had their backs to him and were bent over a small figure on the bed. Not one of them noticed him. His Ada seemed close enough to touch, being the closest to his bed, so he lifted an arm to stretch out to him and grab a handful of that familiar green robe. His arm felt weak and wouldn't quite do what he wanted it to, he couldn't quite reach. Legolas struggled to rise, to give himself some leverage from the bed, but his body failed him completely. He had barely the strength of a newborn kitten, and with a gasp, he fell back heavily onto the pillows. That gasp was all it took for his Ada to hear, and the great king spun around, his face a mask of shock and fear as he turned.

"Legolas?" Thranduil found himself looking into the bleary eyes of his beloved son and it felt like the floor dropped out from beneath him. How he took that step to his son's bed he would never know. All he knew was that suddenly he was sitting on the bed with Legolas clasped to his chest, and his son's fists were gripping his tunic like they never wanted to let go again. "Ai, Elbereth, Legolas. My green leaf….my son."

Legolas clung to whatever he could get hold of and hung on for dear life. His face was pressed against his father's chest so tight he could hardly breathe, but he didn't care. His father smelled of wood bark and rowan leaves and roses, and it was a most welcome and familiar scent.

"So, you finally came back," he heard Elrond say, and gentle fingers combed tenderly through his hair. "Estel did it," the Imladris lord breathed in wonderment. "He brought you back to us."

That sparked a distant memory in Legolas and suddenly there was something more important than the joyous reunion with his Adar. The little bundle on the bed…..Recalling a sudden distant memory of orcs, his heart thudded in his chest. The last time he had seen the child whole was in the hands of those vile beings.

"Estel…." he gasped, his throat constricted through lack of use as his Ada lifted him to a sitting position and supported him from behind "Elrond….. Ada…where is Estel?"

"He is fine," Elladan suddenly appeared in his restricted line of vision. "Just a little over taxed in bringing a certain daft wood elf back to the land of the living." The raven haired elf grinned, then stood aside a step to reveal his twin behind him, a small sleepy looking human boy in his arms.

The child looked tired. He had his arms wrapped around Elrohir's neck, and his face pressed against the twin's cheek. Elrohir took a step closer, just as the boy's face broke out into a wide glowing grin and child and elf prince locked eyes. Before anyone could stop him, the child leapt from his brother's arms and propelled himself onto the bed. Legolas caught him with a sudden strength he didn't know he had and clasped the child to his chest as his Ada had done with him only moments before.

Smiling into the dark tousled hair, Legolas breathed in this new scent, the smell of lavender soap and athelas. Tears of gratitude and deep unbreakable love threatened to swamp him. It was the most delicious smell and feeling he had ever experienced.

"Hannon le, my little hope," the prince breathed into that small bundle of love and energy and innocence. "Hannon le."

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It was much later that night, in fact, as the morning crept ever closer, Thranduil and Elrond sat at a table in the healing rooms, several empty food trays in front of them along with a couple of bottles of wine. The two friends sat at either end of the table, each watching the sleeping forms of their respective sons. Thranduil hardly dared take his eyes off the soundly sleeping Legolas. It was all he could do not to keep going over and checking that his son still breathed.

Legolas slept with his eyes closed, once more warmly wrapped in many layers of blankets. He did not look that much different than he had when he lay at death's beckoning door. All that had changed was his breathing, now deeper and more even, and his skin, which had regained a slight bit of colour after he had been talked into taking his first proper meal in days.

Even then, Legolas had eaten little. Elrond had not pushed him, saying his appetite would come back in time, once he was up and moving about again. The Mirkwood prince was still very weak, accepting that he could not hope to be back to full health for a while, after his terrifying ordeal in Shadow. It was also Elrond's theory that his healing abilities were not yet back to normal either, but when that happened his scars would fade, and he hoped, the elf's dark memories.

The Imladris lord studied the face of Thranduil as the king studied his son. He could see many thoughts flicker across the king's countenance, some of them he could only guess at. The doubt that lingered on Thranduil's face was plain to see.

"He will recover, mellon nin." Elrond spoke softly, so as not to disturb the room's other occupants. "Your son has been to hell and back. He just needs time and rest."

Thranduil sighed "I accept that. But what worries me is, what will happen to him when he comes home?" The king turned and looked straight into his friend's eyes. "Nothing has changed in Mirkwood, Elrond. If anything it has become worse, and it will get even more so, long before it gets any better."

"You speak the truth," Elrond replied in a regretful tone that hinted of a deeper knowledge. "He is welcome to stay here for as long as he wishes. I would see him fully recovered before I would even contemplate him going home with you. His physical scars will fade a lot quicker than the mental ones. He has much to come to terms with, and the best way he can do that is here, among his friends"

Thranduil nodded silently, then looked down and seemed to stare for a long moment at his folded hands. Legolas had talked long into the night, long after the twins had retired to bed, the strain of the past few days and nights taking a toll on even them. Estel had been talked into settling into the bed next to Legolas, and he had fallen immediately into a deep sleep, barely before his head had time to hit the pillows.

Legolas spoke of many things with his Adar and Elrond, admitting to giving up the fight in his heart against the Shadow, to pushing away his friends and family, and his undeserved guilt at all the lives lost and battles fought in Mirkwood. Both elder elves were shocked to learn he had blamed himself for his brothers sailing and had taken the worries of the entire realm upon his own slim shoulders.

Much talking, crying and comforting was done in those couple of hours. Then the exhausted elf had simply laid back in the bed and fell sound asleep, as if a huge weight had been lifted from him. His healing had begun.

Studying Thranduil's face again, Elrond saw there the same danger that had taken Legolas and weakened him against the onslaught of Shadow. "It is not your fault," he stated simply, and the king glanced up at him sharply.

"If it is not mine then whose, Elrond?" Thranduil returned. "As his king, as his father, I should have seen that he suffered."

"You heard him admit that he hid it for so long, he didn't even know how to ask for help when the Shadow began to take him," the elf lord told him patiently. "You admitted yourself, in your letter to me, that you had implored him to stay at home and give himself time to heal, but to no avail. That is why you sent him to me, mellon nín."

Elrond couldn't help allowing a sad smile to touch his lips at the memory of the letter. It seemed so long ago…… "I remember saying to Mithrandir that Legolas was too well schooled in the ways of a prince. I told the wizard that I couldn't just lock Legolas in the healing rooms and tie him to a bed!"

Thranduil didn't smile at the image the other elf's words painted. "Maybe you should have," he told Elrond blankly.

"What would that have achieved? He would have hated me, rebelled against me. It would have done more harm than good. You know this." Elrond thought back to the night he had told the prince he could not leave Imladris, which in turn had prompted the stubborn elf to sneak off at dawn with a curious five year old at his heels. "No, Thranduil, things happened as they were meant to happen. Fate had weaved her cloth, and Legolas had to go through what he did. He will come out on the other side of all this a better elf, a much stronger warrior. He will still need reminding now and again that friends are not burdens, love is not a hindrance, and that it is not a betrayal to laugh in the face of danger and death."

Elrond found himself now watching the other figure that slept soundly in the bed next to the prince. The small boy was dwarfed by the huge bedstead and heaped blankets, so much so that all that could be seen of him was a mop of dark curls on the pillow.

"I know just the person to remind him," Elrond said quietly, and Thranduil followed his eyes to the other bed.

"Speaking of that letter, I must apologise for my comments regarding the human child," the Mirkwood king admitted humbly. "I thank the Valar that you did take a certain human waif into your home."

Elrond met the king's eyes once more. "As do I, mellon nín," he smiled. "Every day, I thank the Valar for every laugh he utters, every day of chaos he causes, every smile he puts on my face and on the faces of all the elves in Imladris. We were all blessed the day he came into our lives."

"And what of his future?" the wood king enquired curiously. "I would like to see the child grow to a man, and fill that empty throne in Minis Tirith."

"His path is already laid," came the deep enigmatic timbre of Gandalf's voice from the doorway. "It is up to him whether he will walk it or not."

Thranduil raised his goblet of wine then, to both of his friends. "Let us pray to the Valar, he walks it," he stated as Elrond followed his lead, and they clinked the goblets together in a toast and a prayer.

"And let us hope that next to him on that path, guarding his back, walks a brave young Mirkwood warrior, with a true aim and a song in his heart," Elrond added.

The Grey Wizard smiled and lifted one of the other goblets, clinking the glass to each of the other two. "I will drink to that."

………………………………...

TBC.

Now it is just the epilogue left. It will round up any loose ends, and hopefully give you the warm fuzzies.

strokes Fred's hairy little head Yes, Freddie my boy, you are the only warm fuzzy that I love. Honest. Throws him three lurkers