Author's note: I had originally intended on uploading this chapter earlier today, but in RL I had to go to the ER because I came down with this terrible bug—worst ever. They never figured out what it was, but I am doing my best to battle it and day by day I get a little better. If this chapter seems rushed in places it is due to that, but I went over everything thoroughly to make sure it was prime for posting as always. Enjoy! And have a happy Easter!

A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: TeenMuggle, AraneltheSilvan, and leelee202 (All of you should check out her terrific LOTR story Another World: a story about two people from different worlds meeting in, well, this world in modern day. FYI, one of these characters is Thranduil ;))

Chapter Five: My Son? My Friend?

~LOTRLOTRLOTR~

Sunlight filtered through the trees, resting on the earth in dappled drops of golden rain.

Legolas blinked his eyes back into focus from their exploration of elven dreams, staring directly into the sun peeking at him from the balcony. He closed his eyes, comforted by the warmth on his face.

It was at this moment that all the memories of the prior night came back to him. The nightmare, jolting up in bed from the icy water thrown on him, his ada holding him and whispering apologies. And finally, being carried to another bed and waking up a second time with a strange feeling in his chest… The fëa healing. Of course, he remembered now. The closeness, the connection, the love. Such a powerful and strong feeling, almost overwhelming for his small body to experience, just as his ada had cautioned. Then there was the burning. It wasn't anything close to a scalding fire, but there had been quite a hot heat emanating from within his heart. It was only toward the end of the healing that it became-if not damaging, then- very painful. If he concentrated, Legolas could still feel some residual warmth residing there, though it was now pleasant instead of painful.

Well, pleasant was an understatement. His body was singing. There was no better way of describing the pleasant sensations of warm energy that coursed through him, nor the utterly calm and relaxed state he was in.

Legolas laid a hand on his chest. It felt warm, even through the fabric of his tunic. His father's fëa was still threaded through his own, the crisp energy floating upon each inhale and exhale, brushing softly against his entire being like the petal of a rose. Legolas wanted to weep from tremendous love, from notes of deep sorrow—achingly beautiful and haunting—in the melody of his soul.

Legolas pushed himself up onto his elbows. Anxiety and guilt swept over him as he glanced over at his father sleeping beside him. But it wasn't a sound sleep. There were dark circles under his eyes—which were closed—and his brow was creased in—what Legolas had grown to recognize—worry. Legolas had the urge to wake him; to save him from whatever terrible dream he was experiencing just as his father had done for him, but decided against it. An elf sleeping with closed eyes only happened with severe illness or exhaustion. Since he could find no sign of illness, Legolas guessed the latter currently afflicted him.

Careful not to wake his exhausted ada, Legolas slipped silently from the bed. At least, that was the plan. Thranduil suddenly shifted on the mattress, muttering something unintelligible before draping an arm around him. Then the king fell silent and unmoving in apparent contentment.

Legolas sighed and tried to wiggle out from Thranduil's grasp, careful not to shake the bed and end up with both arms around him. There would be no escape for him once that happened. Although, the worst possible outcome would be a startled Elvenking pulling out his sword from under his pillow and pressing it against his son's throat. Though it had never happened, Legolas knew there was a likelihood of it occurring if he were to wake the slumbering king now. He was sure it would not be a pleasant experience.

Too bad Legolas was unaware that it would take nothing short of thirty Oromë to wake the king now.

Lifting up his father's arm until it was grazing the fabric of his tunic, Legolas gently slid himself sideways until his torso was freed. Using the freed arm to maneuver, he pushed against it and slowly yanked the other free, taking a glance at his father's sleeping form afterward. Letting out a relieved sigh, he began to work on freeing his leg.

A frown.

Where is it?

Legolas tried to wiggle his toes. None would wiggle. Brows knitted, Legolas tried again, this time putting all his effort into making them move. One did, but the feeling that accompanied the movement was something the prince was not expecting. It was numb; as was his entire foot. Legolas knew about the effects certain pressures had on ligaments over a certain length of time. The way the blood would be trapped from moving to a specific appendage and the numb feeling of that appendage until the blood could circulate freely again. Knowing what he had to do, Legolas gripped onto his upper thigh just below the knee and pulled.

Legolas realized two things at this moment: his leg was trapped between his fathers' and said father was now murmuring his name.

The prince froze, certain he had woken his father. But when nothing more came of it he realized his ada must have been talking in his sleep. Not allowing himself to wonder what the king was dreaming about, he gave his leg one firm tug. It recoiled backward, sending his knee into his chin.

Legolas rubbed the sore spot and glared at the offending knee responsible, before sliding down the bed-which was quite a long ways- landing silently on the floor. He winced when pins and needles stabbed the underside of his foot, but ignored it, tiptoeing toward the door. Turning the knob as soundlessly as he could, he swung it open, stepping out into the corridor. Legolas paid the guards no attention, though he could feel their scrutinizing gazes on the back of his head as traveled the short distance to his own chamber, passing wordlessly by his own guards and into the room. Legolas knew he probably should have said something to them, especially because they looked so burdened worried. But what could he say, 'I slept in my ada's bed last night because I had a terrible nightmare?' No, that just made him sound like a scared little elfling. Legolas was not little.

Striding into the room in an adult fashion, he plopped down on his bed. He bent his right leg over his left and then proceeded to pound his fist into it from the underside. "Wake up! Now is not the time to sleep, do you hear me?" he yelled.

The foot offered no answer.

Legolas pounded the appendage a bit more and even tried to massage it a few minutes, before standing in defeat.

It was then that he noticed the destruction that was his bed. The duvet was strewn on the floor, as were a few pillows. The sheet itself looked as if a storm had inhaled it and then spit it out in a messy heap onto the mattress and said mattress was soaked even after so many hours, the empty bowl lying on the bedside table. Legolas stared at it a few seconds more before heading to the closet. He pulled out a dark green shirt and some light grey leggings, and proper shoes that gripped well. The prince quickly dressed before kneading the tangles from his hair and loosely braiding it. He was not yet of age nor of proper skill to receive his warrior braids yet, so the loose ones would have to do.

Legolas lifted up his shirt over his stomach revealing a bluish-brown bruise just below his left rib. The injury was due to the hilt of a blade slamming into his chest. The elfling responsible had been remorseful afterward, but Legolas could tell they were secretly pleased with themselves. This was often the way things were, considering his reputation on the training grounds and who he was. Everyone wanted to best the young prince in a fight. Some really wanted to.

Legolas lightly pressed the bruise, wincing. The cold water had taken away the ache in the muscle, but it was still tender. With a sigh, Legolas pulled down his shirt, and after shortly appraising himself in the mirror, Legolas decided he looked presentable enough and left his chambers to follow the desire of his growling stomach.

The prince's search led him to the kitchens where e he ate a small meal of lembas bread and broth, his stomach too queasy to push himself to eat more. His friends came and went for their provisions for the day, but whenever asked, Legolas declined their offers to sit with him, simply stating that he preferred to be alone. Of course, no one found this to be peculiar and kindly left the prince alone without argument. Legolas just wasn't feeling social lately. How could he when it was so close the anniversary of the day his mother died? He closed himself off from everyone, even his closest friends, preferring the solitude of his chambers or his secret place by the lake. Legolas felt one of those secret places calling out, beckoning to him.

Scarfing down the remainder of the bread and broth, he stood up from the table and placed the used dishes in the pile with the others, and left. His feet led him outside of the palace to the courtyard. Legolas padded across the dew-wet grass and climbed up the branches of his favorite tree until he was high off the ground, settling down on one of the thicker branches still thin enough to undulate slightly in the breeze.

Legolas closed his eyes and leaned against the strong bough, focusing on the calming feeling in his chest once more and allowing it to ease him. It was less powerful but still noticeable, probably due to the distance he was from his father.

A branch snapped.

Legolas jumped, expecting his own branch to have broken, but a quick cursory glance told him otherwise. Leaning down to check the cause of it, he spied a small squirrel scurrying around the underbrush, making a lot of noise as it gathered a few fallen nuts into its generous cheeks. Legolas let out a nervous breath and leaned back against the tree again, this time keeping his eyes open. But the silence was no longer a comfort.

My prince, what is causing you so much ill-ease?

Legolas heard the soft whispers of the tree and frowned. Aye, he was 'ill at ease.' Though nature was blossoming invitingly around him, his mind seemed glued to only one thing. Just a bad dream, Legolas was about to say but stopped himself. A tree never dreamed so it was incapable of understanding what he meant.

"I didn't sleep well last night," he said. Legolas extended his hand and patted the tree when he felt the trees sympathy and worry for him, a small smile gracing his lips when the tree's spirit calmed and tried to calm him in return.

Legolas yawned.

The tree spoke again in its unique language of woody groans and creaks. Rest now, my prince. I will keep watch over you.

Legolas had no energy to protest, his eyes soon unfocused of their own accord. "Hannon le," he replied before his body went lax, cradled in the branches of the now highly alert Oak tree.

~LOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTRLOTR~

"Thranduil, you must awaken."

The Elvenking groaned sleepily and forced open his eyes, slightly startled when he saw the face of Elrond staring down at him. What was normally seen an act of treason, was, in fact, lawful for only the healer. Lord Elrond had the permission and right to come into the king's chambers unannounced if he felt there was a risk to his health.

"…..Elrond?" Thranduil turned his head to the other side of the bed, but it was empty.

"It is alright," Elrond reassured before the king had a panic attack. "Your son is safe and climbing trees this very moment."

Thranduil turned back towards him, not able to stop himself from lying back down as a wave of dizziness struck. "Why are you here?"

"Several council members requested that I see what was keeping you. Apparently, it was dreams." Elrond smirked wryly at him.

Thranduil closed his eyes, opening them just as quickly. "Council? What is the time?"

"It is past mid-day," Elrond replied.

Thranduil bolted upright and practically jumped out of bed, but as soon as his feet made contact with the floor he was overcome with exhaustion and careened forward.

He was falling.

…..

The ground was coming up fast.

…..

And Thranduil braced himself to impact it.

…..

But just before he hit the floor strong arms grabbed hold and helped him to his feet, remaining there to steady him.

"Careful mellon, you wouldn't want to break anything before an important council meeting," Elrond said pragmatically, releasing his hold.

Even in his extreme state of exhaustion, Thranduil noticed that the paradhel's hands shook slightly as they returned to his sides. He spoke skeptically.

"I am grateful for the rescue, but also curious now. You usually have a much faster reaction speed than that. I nearly hit the floor!"

"Ah, it appears you have discovered my secret. You are not the only one that gave of their strength to help someone last night," Elrond replied.

Thranduil blinked incredulously. "How did you know?"

"I admit the possibility had not occurred to me until I saw Legolas climbing trees this morning with a carefree smile on his face. Suspicion started growing then, but it wasn't until I found you deeply asleep in your chambers well past mid-day that I put the pieces together. We both know you do not sleep in unless you are incapable of waking."

Thranduil allowed himself a half smile. "The long ages have not dulled your perceptions," he replied poignantly, taking things a little slower as he readied himself.

Elrond gave a knowing smirk. "And you never have been able to take it easy unless forced. It looks like time has changed neither of us, mellon nin."

Thranduil looked taken aback by the comment, but quickly banished all emotion from his face. "You still think of me as your friend?" he questioned monotonously.

Elrond glanced up from the interesting floorboards, folding his hands. "Of course I do. I am not unaware of the cold distance that lies between us..."

"Distance which you yourself, created," Thranduil added tersely.

Elrond didn't take the bait. "I expected as much after I revealed my plan and I do not blame you for reacting so harshly that day. It is not easy to hear nor was it easy to decide, but I have longed for some time to shed that which dampens my healing abilities."

"Has it made a difference?" Thranduil asked curiously.

Elrond nodded. "The change was subtle at first, but now the power is as prevalent as the blood coursing through my veins, ever present with any healing I perform. There was, in fact, one occasion where only the merest touch saved someone from the brink of death. Can you imagine how important this will be to have in these coming years?"

Thranduil kept his face blank, but inwardly he was reeling. He would need to keep Elrond in his good graces. A healing touch would indeed, come to be needed.

Elrond continued. "I have been meaning to tell you that I have been working on a cure for Shadow Sickness."

Thranduil arched a brow in challenge. "How have you been doing so? Nothing shadowed of plant or beast resides in Imladris."

"I acquired a branch from an infected tree in your forest. I took it as a parting gift from you and have studied it ever since. I've even conducted some of my own experiments, some of which have been fairly successful to a certain degree." Elrond's tone darkened and grew quieter. "My own sons had to revive me when I passed from consciousness after trying one particular technique."

"What did you do?" Thranduil asked, genuinely curious as he strapped on his sword, buckling it in place.

"I tried burning it away." Lord Elrond saw the shock and judgment in the Elvenking's demeanor but continued. "My fëa was not strong enough to overcome its malign nature and it overpowered my defenses, breaking my willpower. I could feel it doing this, Thranduil, feel my control slipping inch by inch until..." Elrond could not go on.

"You lost control," Thranduil finished for him, mortified.

"Yes," Elrond replied in a low whisper, and Thranduil needed to hear no more. He came abreast to the healer and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I almost hurt them, Thranduil. I almost hurt my children."

"Hush, It was not of your doing," Thranduil pressed, extending what comfort he could to the healer. "You cannot blame yourself for an action you yourself had no power over."

Elrond's voice was raw and it was clear to Thranduil that he was close to tears. "If I had not been taken away, Valar only knows what I could have done to them. I can still see there faces, see their fear... I do not think I can bear returning. Not yet. That is why I brought them with me."

There was no greater pain than for a parent to harm their child. Thranduil had always feared it would happen, ever since Legolas was born. But those fears had been of dropping his son or not recognizing the signs of a fever in time. Not murdering him with his own bare hands. Elrond had almost lived that nightmare and Thranduil could not imagine the pain he was in. If Thranduil himself ever...killed Legolas, accidental or within broken will, he knew he would turn the blade on himself without hesitation.

Thranduil spoke abruptly, not fully considering what he would propose but not completely opposed to it either. "You and your son's may stay in my halls as long as you need. I will even see about moving you to larger rooms so you will be more comfortable."

Elrond shook his head. "That is not necessary."

Thranduil would not have his offer be turned down on account of propriety. "It has already been done."

Elrond nodded gratefully. "Then you have my deep gratitude and service while I remain here."

"I could do no less for an old friend," Thranduil smiled wistfully.

Elrond smiled softly in return, his expression soon changing to curiosity. "I normally do not pry, but as a healer, I need to know if anything else happened to Legolas last night, something unusual."

Before Thranduil could reply, there was a knock at the door. Thranduil gave permission to enter and a golden-haired elf—Glorfindel. He recognized the balrog slayer anywhere—came to stand in the center of the room, bowing low before the two lords.

Glorfindel conveyed the message promptly. "I'm sorry to disturb you my lords, but the council is growing restless. There is talk of canceling this meeting if the two of you do not arrive soon."

Elrond spoke. "Give them our sincerest apologies and tell them that their patience will soon be rewarded, for we are on our way." Glorfindel bowed and then left hastily to convey the message.

"Yes."

The vague word spoken aloud momentarily confused Elrond, before remembering his question. He faced Thranduil expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate.

Thranduil spoke, a sadness in his eyes. "Something unusual did happen to Legolas last night. It is something I have been meaning to speak with you about."

Elrond saw the subtle change in the Elvenking's demeanor but knew it was not yet time to inquire about it. An explanation would be given soon enough. The elf lord inclined his head in acceptance. "Then you will have my ear and my assistance in the council meeting today."

"Indeed. Two fatigued minds are better than one when it comes to these things. I would be grateful for the support," Thranduil replied, rubbing the last bit of sandalwood through his hair.

"Then with both of us supporting the other, this meeting should run smoothly."

Thranduil scoffed. "Elrond, there is still so much you do not know about Mirkwood politics. Nothing ever runs smoothly."

Elrond chuckled, shutting the door behind them.

Author's note: Feel free to review, follow, and favorite this story. You don't have to review.. I will post no matter what. It just really makes my day to know your thoughts and opinions and helps me produce content faster. That being said, if I receive, let's say 6 reviews this chapter, I will include a satisfying secret scene in the next one. If not I will PM it to those of you who are interested (Though, if I like how the scene turns out I may just include it anyway).

You can expect chapter 6 next Saturday (hopefully earlier in the day, but no promises).