Author's note: I feel like a million bucks! *sarcasm* In reality, I have a nasty stomach bug I have been trying to find for over three weeks, but now the symptoms are rearing their ugly heads. Anyway, I scrimped and scrounged to finish this chapter for you despite feeling like crap, and while most of you are likely asleep now, I hope it will be a nice surprise when you wake up.

Quick shout-out to the awesome people that reviewed the last chapter: MariaJulietBituin, Nina, and Lady Mustard (Love the name! Can't get enough of the stuff ;)) Enjoy the chapter!

When Death Comes by Mary Oliver

When death comes

like the hungry bear in autumn;

when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;

when death comes

like the measle-pox

when death comes

like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:

what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything

as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,

and I look upon time as no more than an idea,

and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common

as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,

tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something

precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world

Chapter Twelve: Far Better Thing I Do

~LOTRLOTRlOTR~

Elrond paced back and forth across the fireplace like a restless panther. What the Elvenking proposed was so perverse, so unhinged that it made his heart ache to even think about him sharing a part in it. Surely there was another way, his mind kept saying. But every idea proposed was shot down quickly after with the familiar words, 'that is not going to work.' But surely there must be something... something buried deep in the recesses of his mind. He just needed to think... think...think...

"Thranduil, he but a child!"

"Yes, he is a child," Thranduil replied coolly. "My only child."

"Yes, but—"

"If he dies the only light in my life will be extinguished and I will be alone in this world." He continued. No, I would not sail. I care for this realm too much to leave it to its destruction. But I will never be the same person or king. When Nariyath died I changed into a cold, gem-hungry facade. I was drowning in a pool of my own regret and sorrow until my son dragged me back and gave me life again." Thranduil stared so deeply at Elrond it almost appeared as though he was staring through him. "Tell me you would not do the same if the alternative could mean your child's life."

Elrond heard the pain in the Elvenking's voice and knew that Thranduil would be pacing the room with him if not for wanting to spend what could be his last moments with his dear son. It hurt a part of him to see his dear friend in so much anguish and it bothered him that he was not able to soothe it away as he normally did. But this was not a normal circumstance, not in the least, and in truth, he had no words of contention to bring forth against such a solid argument. All he could do now was offer his support and advice.

"I do not deny I would do the same.," Elrond muttered, after a time. "I'm not saying the death of your son would not change you, nor am I saying it is not meaningful. But I fear you are placing the risks above doing what is best for him."

"What is best for him? I am his father. I of all people know what is best for him!" Thranduil snarled. Then added, "If you don't agree with my methods why don't you suggest one of your own? Surely you must have something seeing as you've nearly paced the sealer off my floor!"

Elrond did not match the king's tone. "I do not have any suggestions of my own at this time." He held up his hand. "One may come to me, given time."

"Time is a luxury we cannot afford. My son is on the brink of death," Thranduil replied.

"Legolas is still fragile from the healing. It may prove too much for him."

Thranduil sighed and ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "I know, but this is our only recourse. You must see that now."

Elrond sighed. "Yes, I do." He frowned. "But to receive such cruel treatment from his own father? He could very well end of hating you for the rest of his life."

"I don't care if he ends of hating me in the grey havens! Thranduil exclaimed. "As long as he lives."

"If he lives, Thranduil. I know the effects of terror on a healing soul, and of the likelihood of death it can cause."

Thranduil "Healing? He took in the peredhel's perplexed expression and then looked at the elf lord with compassion. "Elrond... have you not glanced outside?"

Elrond frowned at this but turned toward the balcony. It was no longer day, but the middle of the night. At first, the peredhel had trouble seeing why this small change was so important, then he remembered.

"Legolas is no longer healing. Once a day has passed, the fëa is fully healed..."

Thranduil smiled sadly at him. "Now I see the reason behind your hesitance. You believed Legolas could die, whereas I only speculated it because I knew enough time had passed for him to be fully healed. Elrond, if I had known..."

The healer shook his head. "You couldn't have known." He smiled slightly. "What matters is that I have more faith in your plan than I had initially."

"You believe it could work?" Thranduil asked, unable to smother the surprise in his voice..

"I do, though I am still worried for him," Elrond replied calmly.

Thranduil sat back down and kneaded his hand through his son's golden hair. Then, he spoke. "I know you have known Legolas since he was born, but I have known him longer. Many months after he was conceived I felt his presence. It was unmistakable and so very strong. "He is strong enough to withstand this. But it will hurt him," Thranduil finished.

Elrond analyzed him for a moment and then sat down beside him. There was a right and a wrong time to speak to the Elvenking, and when said Elvenking was tending to his son was most certainly one of those times. Instead, he stayed silent, observing his movements and facial expressions. Any elf could see how much this was paining him, and a meticulous one could see how much he feared what would happen.

But only a friend would do something about it.

Elrond took Thranduil's hands into his own, squeezing them firmly in an attempt to stay the small trembling of them. When Thranduil met his gaze, he spoke.

"You are right. I only know him and love him as one of my sons and my patient." Elrond smiled to himself at the memories that blossomed from the thought for a short moment, then continued. "My love or inherent knowledge of him will never run as deep of yours. Therefore, I stand with your conviction and I will fulfill my role despite any pain it will cause me."

Thranduil smiled softly. "Thank you. I know your part in this will not be easy, but it is needed if we are to save him."

Elrond let go, satisfied that the trembles had lessened. But they would continue to remain until this ordeal was over, as his own would.

"And so it will not be on you, but we have no other choice. When do you plan on waking him?"

"Now," Thranduil replied abruptly before approaching the bed where his son lay. He waited for Elrond to get into place and then leaned down near his son's ear. "Come back to me my little Greenleaf," Thranduil whispered, caressing Legolas's cheek to coax his son to consciousness. Thranduil waited for his eyes to open before taking the child's tiny hand into his own, giving him an anchor as he awoke.

As expected, Legolas shrunk back against the headboard when he noticed the healer. Looking more like a mouse caught in the gaze of a hungry cat than an elf prince.

"A-ada, I don't understand…" the prince stuttered.

Thranduil spoke, his voice conveying surety while his expression remained neutral. "Elrond is merely going to sit here quietly. He will not move from this spot unless I give him permission to do so and he will not speak unless you speak to him. Elrond has graciously agreed to all of this because he does not want you to fear him." Thranduil stared sincerely into Legolas's eyes, noting that they were wide with fear. "Does this sound like someone who wants to harm you, my son?"

Legolas said nothing, only staring fearfully at the elf lord.

Thranduil was troubled by his son's lack of response. This was not supposed to cure him, but having his father by his side should have at least given his son some courage. Right now, Legolas looked anything but courageous. Thranduil tried not to take it personally, remembering the trust that had been shining in his eyes. Legolas trusted him, but likely could not speak, out of fear. Well, that needed to be fixed.

Thranduil and Elrond exchanged meaningful glances, both knowing what must now be done. Despite his heart's screaming pleas to keep hold, the Elvenking released his son's hand and stepped away.

Legolas, feeling his father's presence leave him, immediately started to panic. "No, adar! Please don't leave me!" he screamed.

"Relax Legolas, I am not leaving. I will remain where I stand for the time being but no closer," Thranduil said quickly and then diverted his gaze. "Elrond, you may now stand."

Legolas spared fearful glances to his father, breathing in and out once as the elf lord stood, tall and menacing. When the elf lord was given permission to take two steps forward, Legolas could hear his heart beating in his ears, almost in sync with the steps.

One more step...

Why was his father doing this?

Two more steps...

Elrond was evil. Surely his ada knew this or he would not have confined him to the chair. Except, now he was walking toward him and his father was apparently allowing it.

Another two steps...

Legolas set his jaw in determination. His father would never let Elrond hurt him. He had nothing to fear.

Except he was.

The elf lord was standing only a foot away from him now and Legolas looked at his father pleadingly. He nearly cried in relief when the next words were spoken.

"That is far enough, Elrond," Thranduil said.

Legolas took the opportunity to scoot backward on the bed a bit, gazing at his father quizzically.

Thranduil noticed some of the tension leave his son, but he was still tight as a drum. After a time Thranduil ordered the elf lord back to his seat, noting how his son's eyes stayed glued to his own as if a moment of ill attention would mean his life.

Thranduil closed his eyes in realization. Legolas did trust him. In fact, the Elvenking likely held every ounce of it at that moment. This was a big problem that needed to be remedied, as he had foreseen. But he was not one bit ready to do so.

Legolas became worried when his father did not return to him as he was expecting. "Ada?"

Closing his eyes, Thranduil exhaled on a quivering breath before speaking in a tone of voice that none had heard before; a voice that cajoled the listener into believing it would break at any moment.

"This is for your own good, Legolas. I am sorry." With that, the Elvenking walked over to the door and swiftly left the room before he could change his mind.

"NO!" Legolas screamed. "Come back! Please don't leave me alone!"

"Please, Ada! Come back! PLEASE!"

Legolas screamed and cried until his throat hurt, begging his father to come back and never taking his eyes off the door through which he had vanished. He couldn't understand why his father would leave him alone with the monstrous elf, and his mind offered a disheartening answer: You have caused your father so much heartache that he doesn't know how to help you anymore.

Legolas choked on a tear and shook his head, pushing the thought away as an untruth. The longer he dwelled on it though, the truer it became. "I have been abandoned, Legolas whimpered softly, not loud enough for the elf lord to overhear. With his peripheral vision that was blurred from the tears, he watched the elf lord, his body trembling against the brass bed frame as he waited for the horrible fate that surely awaited him.

Suddenly though, Legolas heard something through his cries.

The elfling quieted slightly, curiously waiting for the sound to come again. It did, intermeshing with his own cries, and Legolas recognized it as the sound of someone sobbing.

The pull of curiosity too strong to fight, Legolas lifted his head.

The sight that greeted him made the elfling flinch. Elrond was leaning forward, his head held in his hands as gentle sobs escaped his lips. At that moment, Legolas did not feel the weight of fear, rather he felt compassion and it urged him to speak.

"Why are you crying?"

The dark-haired elf raised his head and Legolas fought the instinct to back away, instead, keeping still as a pained voice spoke.

"Because my heart is breaking, Legolas."

The prince, being the young age he was, did not understand.

He wiped his eyes. "Would tree sap help? One time I accidentally broke a vase in ada's study and I put the pieces back together with sticky tree sap."

Elrond chuckled and it was the last thing that Legolas was expecting. The young prince visibly jumped, his hand squeezing harder onto the brass frame of the bed.

"I am sorry," Elrond apologized, feeling his eyes brim with more tears at the sight of the elfling so very terrified of him. He cleared his throat gently. "I truly did not mean to frighten you."

"O-kay," Legolas replied. A short time later the elfling spoke again. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Elrond winced internally, mind grasping for the right words to say that didn't have a chance at distressing Legolas. Is because I love you, threatening? What about I don't want you to be scared of me, or I have known you since you were born? "Because I care for you," Elrond finally said.

Legolas shook his head and fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. "No, n-no you don't...you hurt me." Legolas narrowed his eyes dangerously. "You're a monster." Before Elrond could respond, the elfling rose from the bed and pulled out his father's sword from underneath the pillow he slept, speaking in a tone that suited a much older elf. "I am not tied down this time."

Elrond was physically unable to speak, glued to the chair as if they were one. He could only look on with horror as the once sweet and innocent elfling stared him down, the sharp blade now so close that he could almost feel the cool kiss of the metal against his flesh.

"Defend yourself, peredhel," Legolas almost spat the word as icily as his father did, his eyes dark with pain and anger.

While most elves would have drawn their sword at this point, Elrond merely rose to his feet and lowered himself to the ground.

He spoke calmly, almost peacefully.

"I swear to you by all that is good that whatever I did to you was not of my will but an accident. If I am to die by your hand, then I offer my life as penance for the wrong I have inflicted upon you. I hope that after I am gone you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Spreading his arms wide in complete submission, he held the gaze of the elfling a while longer. Then his eyes closed and the blade fell.

Author's note: Those of you who are familiar with the Charles Dicken's classic A Tale of Two Cities, could probably tell the self-sacrifice direction this story would take. As for the rest of you, sorry about the cliffy, but there was no way to split the entire scene cleanly. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to bed.

Next chapter: Indeterminate because of sickness, but a chapter will come as soon as possible.