Dear fans, if you only loved me and not the story I would be flattered, but I know that's not the case. So, here's the chappie without any crap. Reviews WILL be answered. Eventually. Maybe at the end of the chappie.

MY APOLOGIES for the no-updating! I am eighteen now though, you know? I have to worry about college and jobs AND I JUST GOT MY SCHOLARSHIP TO JAPAN! Gimme a break! (And STILL no license, or even a PERMIT...)

Sorry.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

CHAPTER THREE

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

'Oh Valar, please. End it now.'

Legolas was only vaguely aware of his surroundings. It looked as though his world now consisted of a blanket, a pillow, and a chair. A chair with someone in it. He was staring at them intently, eyes blurred; he just couldn't seem to make his eyes focus. Sweat would pour into them on occasion, but it was usually wiped away by the person in the chair. The elf was too tired now to move, to lash out, but the pain was incredible. On occasion a sudden, sharp burst would make his hands jerk involuntarily, increasing his grip on the blanket, but he could do no more.

"Nn... ahh!" White hot agony flared in his chest and he choked on air, convulsing with one cough, then another, then a gasp as starbursts appeared in his vision. The stab wound had done much damage, but the fever raging through him hurt almost as badly. His body was badly damaged and he wasn't about to get away with no ill effect to his system.

"Poor thing," someone lamented. "Here, drink this." The disembodied voice was accompanied by the curved ridge of a ceramic cup touching his lips. The cool liquid inside it wet his skin and he automatically craned his neck to reach it, gulping without hesitation. "Slowly, slowly," the voice admonished him. Sure enough, the quick intake made him sputter, and the sharp coughing reawakened the pain.

"Ahh! Valar... saes," he rasped, nearly sobbing.

Cool hands held him gently. "Shh, don't move, shh... Arad, give me the cloth again, dear."

"Is he going to die?" The younger voice sounded slightly tired, but mostly saddened and laden with... guilt, perhaps?

"Not if the fever breaks, dear. It may take a while though, and we must keep him hydrated."

A thought occurred to the delirious firstborn, and he questioned the voice quietly, opening his eyes forcibly and blinking as he turned his head on the sweat-soaked pillow. "Estel? Est... Estel, is that you...?" He strained to clear his eyes.

"M-me?" the voice stammered, seeming startled. "N-no. I-I'm... Arad. My name's Arad."

"...Ara... Arad?"

"Y-yes, sir elf."

"You are Men." The tone was flat, but undertoned with something vaguely apprehensive.

"Um... yes, sir elf."

So he wasn't with Elrond. And these were humans. An involuntary shiver rippled through him, and he turned his head back to lie flat on the bed. He was lucid enough now to feel their eyes on him, and he willed his body to still. Before slipping away into soft folds of darkness, he remembered himself and forced out one last sentence, one that made the mother and child look to each other in surprise:

"I... I thank... you."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pale morning light snaked through the thick-leaved branches, finding a quartet of riders traveling silently in the midst of the trees.

Silently, save for one.

The horse was fidgeting underneath an adolescent boy; he could feel the movement beneath the saddle as it rocked. Luthien, a white filly barely out of childhood, (and a gift from his father,) was completely unused to traveling so near the human villages. Unlike Lord Elrond and his chestnut stallion, who were handling the basically flat forest terrain with relative grace and ease, the twelve-year-old was having a bit of a time with her, and she was getting almost as annoyed with him as he was her. The two elven servants behind him were, of course, having no trouble with their mounts, but their snickering was getting harder and harder to keep inaudible.

"Ada, maybe you should speak to her," he called, trying not to fall off as she reared a bit. "She- just won't calm down."

Elrond tried not to smile as he "whoop"ed and wavered back and forth in the leather saddle, one hand thrown up to keep balance, trying to stay on and not get thrown off as she pranced even more, and tossed her head with a shrill whinny. "Come," the elf said softly, and his stallion moved to flank his son's mount, his robes flowing in curtains over the horse's back and flanks. Putting a hand on the filly's smooth white forehead, Elrond whispered a single word to her, and she quieted immediately.

"I wish I knew what you keep telling her," the boy grumbled. "I'd use it during equitation lessons with Lord Glorfindel."

"It's not the words that calm her, my son, it is the tone and the weight behind them," the elf lord said sternly.

"Oh. I see," he said thoughtfully. Then he paused. "...So, it's kind of like when you give me that 'You've-done-something-and-it-needs-to-stop-or-there'll-be-trouble' look, and only say my name?"

This time Elrond did actually smile, and he felt the trees smiling with him."Not exactly, Estel, but you've got the gist of it."

He squirmed again, but this time it was not because of the horse. "Father, must I go to stay with these... humans? I... I-I don't mind them, but... It's just, different. They're clumsy, and the tongue is so strange..."

"Yes, my son. But as you are one of them and will need to associate with them as you grow older, it is necessary that you learn their tongue and their customs, and learn them well," Lord Elrond told the boy. "It is imperative that we have someone who can prevent ignorance of the Firstborn from being such a common occurance in Men, and it cannot be an elf." The pale elf ruffled his foster child's hair affectionately. "You are more vital in that relationship than you yet realize, my Hope." Estel did not know his true heritage, but Elrond knew he would have to be told later. Now, the best thing would be to get him accustomed to living in the world of Men.

However, this kind of statement from Elrond was not going to go unquestioned. "But Ada, if I'm supposed to help them learn more about us, then why can't I tell them that we're a race of elves?"

"Because, Estel, you may not be well received," he admonished him, eyes dark and dead serious. "You must learn of them first. Find out what their views are about us. If they are good, or at least open-minded, then we can use that to our advantage in our relationships with them, make them see that we are not evil, or cursed, or whatever else they believe."

"Cursed?" Estel's eyes were wide pools of blue. "Why would we be cursed?"

Elrond's smile returned, as was common when conversing with Estel. "Ignorance breeds fear and contempt, my son. They do not have to know a race to fear it, even to hate it."

The child bit his tongue and tried to digest all he had said. It made pretty good sense, actually. But then, the dam broke:

"...Can I still take baths while I'm there?"

The forest leaves shivered with humor. It took all of Elrond's hard-won restraint as an elf lord to keep from laughing. The two servants finally snorted aloud and the group moved through the trees, accompanied by sweet elven laughter.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Stars were beginning to dance around the blond being's head. The colors were dazzling, and he was losing his sense of time completely. He no longer knew where he was. He had awoken from unconsciousness only minutes ago, and the pain was growing so bad that he couldn't even remember his own name.

But one name stuck fast within his mind.

"Estel... Estel!" Legolas breathing had quickened, and his airway had swollen so much that it took all the strength he had just to fill his lungs. Breathing was an agonizing affair, and his eyes felt scorched from fever. Everything burned with a fire that seemed unquenchable. "Ahhh- Estel!"

( The boy was young, unimaginably so compared to him. But still, his innocent smile belied his treacherous ancestry. The young human had won him over almost immediately.

'My name's Estel. What's yours?' The boy seemed engrossed in building a sort of little craft; an art project of leaves and various organic odds and ends.

The elven prince knew he appeared to be half-asleep, but he was watching the young human carefully. Even if he was a human, he was cute, he supposed. And the wind was quite relaxing in the branch he had chosen. 'You may call me Legolas, young one.'

'Legolas. I like that name,' the boy replied, not looking up from his apparently serious work. 'You're all over here.'

That statement was rather odd, and it caught him off-guard. 'What?' The word popped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

The young human freed a hand to point at a nearby tree. 'There's a greenleaf, and there's a greenleaf, and there's a green leaf... There's lots of you.'

That made him laugh in its obviousness. It seemed Elrond had taught him well in language. His elvish was quite impeccable, especially at so young an age. 'So I see,' he acknowledged. What a funny child...

But he was already back at his work. 'I'd like it if we got to be friends. That way, even if you went home, I could still see you,' the boy added. Legolas found himself smiling again.

He is very kind. I feel it. The forest feels it as well. 'I would like that too, young one,' he found himself admitting.

At this the boy dropped his project and looked up, a grin of admirable proportions on his tiny features. 'Does that mean we can be friends?'

The look was so pleased and so hopeful that he gave up all pretense of seriousness and laughed outright. 'But of course!' he told him.)-

Shortly after that, just before dinner in the great hall, Elrond had pulled him aside and told him of the boy's true lineage, and how he must not know his heritage as of yet. Even before this, though, Legolas knew he could not shun the child because of his race. He was too small, too unassuming, and just too pleasant to be around. He had promised Elrond he would look after him, and never tell him of his parentage until he gave him leave. The few short weeks spent in Rivendell had formed a close bond between them, and even though he was only six, the dark-headed child learned quickly and was unusually curious about everything.

And of course, he was just so charismatically adorable that anything he did made you laugh. A single word said in elvish was garbled in such a way that it made your heart melt. That was six years ago, and he had visited them only briefly since then. But still, their friendship had remained, and the innocent boy had been of great solace to the weary elf.

Now though, his only consolation was the lingering memory of that innocence.

"AHHH!" The cry rang through the rafters of the small house.

Oh, Valar, the pain! His body twisted in agony and he cried out with heart-rending sob, tangled in a knot of damp sheets. "Estel! HELP ME!" A blinding flash of light went off behind his eyes and he sank back onto the bedding, back arched into a taught curve. "Help me," he murmured brokenly, his face drenched in sweat and tears. "Valar, please..."

A pale face broke into the vision behind his closed eyelids, and his heart contracted with pain. "Telerin," he cried, choking softly as swiftly welling blood reached his mouth. 'Elbereth. He is dead. He is dead!' Legolas mind was reeling, and the lack of air was making him light-headed. "Telerin-" He broke into another coughing fit as his sudden jolt aggravated the bleeding within his chest.

Arad walked in just in time to see the blond elf release a mouthful of crimson liquid up onto his chest, jerking in a fit of convulsive coughing. "MOTHER!" he yelled, running to the bedside and trying to hold the prince down to the bed by his shoulders.

All efforts proved in vain though, as the prince lashed out and nearly came up off the bed. His eyes opened and he stared up at the boy, pained blue orbs pleading for help. As Arad watched in fear, a rivulet of red was falling swiftly down his chin and his breathing wasn't coming easier, peppered with wheezing coughs. The elf reached up with both hands to grab the boy's arms, steadying himself as he tried to draw in air. His body was shivering and jerking in an alarming way as he stared directly into the young human's eyes.

'He needs something to focus on,' the young man realized. 'Something to bring him back to his senses.' "Sir- sir elf, can you hear me?" The straining features nodded once, the coughing having abating into pained gasps. "All-all right, um, please just, keep looking at me," Arad stammered. "My mother will be here soon and she can help. All right?"

For a moment there was only the elf's heavy breath. Then, still looking straight at him, another nod. "Ye...yes," he managed.

"Arad!" Maeri shot into the room, holding a bucket of water and a rag. "What's happened!"

"He's bleeding, mother, from the inside," he told her, looking back over his shoulder and past Legolas' hand grasping his arm. "I don't know, he just suddenly started coughing, and there was blood."

"Go to your father," she ordered, pushing between them and laying the blond head back against the pillow. "I'll handle this. It's best if you go outside now, dear. This isn't something you need to see."

"But, mother, he needs me here! He's... he's all alone, and..." Arad's words faltered as he watched the elf on the bed.

Maeri's expression softened as she saw how intently the prince was focused on her son, although she wasn't sure exactly who he was seeing. His eyes were wide and glassy, cheeks still marked with tears as she separated them, and his gaze grew fearful as the solidity of Arad's presence left his grasp. "No... no, where...? Don't leave me, don't leave..." Legolas' attention turned back onto something in the recesses of his mind, and the coughing returned.

"Arad, please, just go. I'll be here with him, but please, go tell your father I'll need him in a moment," she gritted.

"Y- Yes, mother."

Maeri made sure Arad had left the room before turning back to the distressed being, reaching for a cloth from the table. "Shh, dear, it'll be all right..."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

'Why did we have to do this now?' Alerenn thought. 'Couldn't we have sent a messenger to send them away?' A pair of horses came across the clearing at the end of the road bearing riders. As they neared, the boy they had mentioned was seen astride a small white filly, and Alerenn suddenly remembered what the mayor had said. 'I forgot to find Arad. Oh well, he can greet them back in the square.'

The man atop the chestnut stallion was tall, with long, straight dark hair and flowing velvet robes. His flowing locks were pulled back from his eyes and delicately braided into the top layer of the ponytail, while the rest draped over his shoulders and down his back. An elegantly wrapped bandana around his forehead bore a crest of some kind in its middle, but the look was slightly strange, as it left his ears almost completely covered. He had sharp, austere features and eyes that burned a crystal blue-green, like the waves of the sea. This man was obviously of regal bearing, as he far outshined anyone in their rough, rural village.

Then he looked at the boy.

Strangely enough, the boy had almost the same regal look and posture, although of a different style. His head was bare, save for a parted crop of wavy locks grown to his chin, barely reaching the tops of his shoulders. The features were still softened by youth, but age was beginning to give him an edge to his nose and cheekbones, and his expression was carefully detached and neutral. The eyes were a pure, light blue, and they pierced as effectively as the man's. Instead of robes, the boy wore a belted white tunic, dark leggings, and a navy jerkin of fine quality: not overly expensive or elaborate, but definitely of better craftsmanship.

He and the man both wore soft, suede boots that tied around the calf, and as they dismounted, not a sound was heard from under them. Alerenn and the mayor moved forward to greet them. It didn't escape Alerenn's perception that there were two more men on horseback waiting just inside the shaded entrance to the woods.

"I bid you good day, sir," the mayor greeted the man cordially. "We have been expecting you. I trust you had no trouble on your journey?"

"We had none," the man answered in a rather straight-laced but not unfriendly tone. He touched his fingers to his forehead and inclined his head toward them. "I thank you for your kind welcome into your village. My son has been looking forward to meeting you." At this the boy stepped up beside his father and bowed formally. The man placed a hand on his own heart, then indicated his son. "I am Elrond, lord of Imladris, and this is my son, Estel." The boy noted that his father had carefully used the elvish word rather than the Westron for the realm these people must know as elven territory.

"I am Keric, the mayor of this village, and this is my chief hunter and aide, Alerenn, son of Albaronn." Alerenn bowed and straightened slowly, smiling amiably at the boy. He returned the expression smoothly.

"We are honored to have you with us," Alerenn addressed him. "Your father mentioned in his letter that you wish to learn about people and customs outside of your own land. I hope we can make your stay memorable."

"Perhaps we will," he answered in gracefully-accented Westron. "It seems to be a very nice village. I look forward to seeing more of it."

"He also mentioned that Westron is another of your studies, and that you wish to learn more of its fine points," Mayor Keric observed. "You do very well already, young man."

"Thank you very much," Estel replied, lowering his gaze in embarrassment.

"Please, could the two of you accompany us to the hall? We have prepared a meal for you there before you go on your way," the mayor offered.

"Your two men may be hungry as well," Alerenn added, indicating the pair of horses at the edge of the forest.

"No, sir, they will remain thus, but thank you," Elrond declined politely. "They merely wait for my return. However, I would be delighted to dine with you before our journey home, gentlemen."

Alerenn exchanged a quick look with the mayor before nodding and spreading an arm wide, gesturing that they go ahead. The two newcomers glided past him and he followed as Mayor Keric ushered them down the path toward the village hall.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The food was differently flavored, but good, and there was nothing shockingly unusual about it. The repast consisted of roasted meat, fresh bread and butter, a sort of salted paste made of herbs and dried milk, and sweet pastries filled with jam. Fresh fruit was laid artistically in a bowl at the center of their end of the long table, and they were advised to take as much as they wished. Three servants stood ready to refill goblets with wine and water for the guests, and they were thanked often by both the strangers and their own officials.

Estel knew very well that this meal was nothing compared to the list of delicacies afforded by the house cook in Rivendell, but the hospitality of their hosts was unlimited. They had put forth their best resources, and this he realized. The meal they were having now was probably the best they could ever offer, and their kindness touched the boy greatly.

Soon the meal had ended, and the lord of Imladris knew that it was time for him to take his leave. "That was wonderful. I thank you again for your trouble," Elrond told them. "Estel was... shall we say, slightly apprehensive about his first stay in a foreign village." The boy blushed, giving his father a questioning look.

"Well, I think he's handling it rather well," Alerenn said encouragingly. "I have a boy of about his age, if he would like to meet him."

"That would be wonderful," Elrond consented. "I will join you and see him off, if you don't mind the intrusion."

"Please, he'd be honored to meet you," the hunter replied, a pleased look on his tanned face.

In the square, a medium-sized crowd of villagers had gathered to greet the visitors, including the children, (who stared blatantly). A path was cleared for the strangers as they descended the hall's steps and made their way to the middle of the courtyard. "Everyone, I would like to introduce you to our guests: Lord Elrond of Imladris, and Estel, his son," the mayor announced loudly, so that they could all hear. "We are welcoming Estel to be a student of our culture and our village. Please make him feel at home, and don't hesitate to say hello!"

Surprisingly this was met with applause, and Estel began to blush further as many men and women came up to shake his hand. Elrond was greeted as well, but the majority of the attention was directed toward him. The lord stood by silently and watched as his son spoke with the first humans he had ever encountered, save his mother.

"Hello there, young man! I'm Elgred. Glad you could come!"

"Thank you. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Isn't he just a darling? What a well-mannered boy!"

"Have you ever traveled outside of your town before?"

"No, my lady. This is my first time."

"Well, good luck with your stay! My name is Thora. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, my lady."

After the first ten or so had been introduced, a faint sound, something out of place, reached Estel's ears, and he turned his head to see a boy of about his own age running through the crowd toward Alerenn, waving frantically.

"Father! Father!"

"Ahh, there he is! Estel, this is my own son, Arad. The two of you can be playmates while you're here," Alerenn told him. Estel watched as the hunter's face creased in a smile, then darkened with concern as he saw his son's face. "Please excuse me for a moment."

Alerenn walked swiftly to meet the other boy at a break in the scattered crowd, holding his shoulders as they held a hurried, urgent conversation. After a few moments of this, the man returned to where Mayor Keric stood with the new arrivals and bowed in apology. "Forgive me, my lords, but there is something I must attend to. I will return shortly. Until then, Arad will keep you company." The chief hunter looked to Elrond. "I am sorry that I cannot see you off."

"That is quite all right," Elrond assured him. "Is there something wrong?"

"One of our men is gravely ill. My wife and I are healing him," Alerenn explained. "It seems he's had a relapse. I must go now to tend to him."

"Estel is apprenticing with me in the healing arts," Elrond began suggesting. "He has been well-trained. Perhaps he could be of assistance-"

"No," Alerenn said sharply. Elrond's eyebrow raised only slightly. There was a pause as the hunter's sudden change in openness and manner left them momentarily mute. Estel looked up at his father, a question in his eyes as Alerenn rephrased himself. "No. I apologize, gentlemen; this case could be contagious, and I would not want your son to become ill during his time here. T'would be better if he didn't concern himself."

"Very well." Elrond bowed, and took Estel by the hand. "May I say goodbye to my son, in private? It will be long before I see him again." Estel knew very well a matter of weeks or even months was by no means a long stretch of time for an elf who had lived over six millennia. There was something his father wanted to tell him.

"Of course. Take your time, sir," Alerenn replied gratefully.

At that moment a masculine scream was heard faintly from the direction of the houses. Estel's eyes went wide and he shared another brief glance with his father. A few people in the crowd looked toward the houses. Some looked pained, others worried, and others seemed unsettled, as though they were irritated by the noise. Despite this, there was no whisper of sound, no conversation. The entire assembly had gone deadly quiet.

Elrond's eyes narrowed, and he felt a tugging from a place just below his heart. Something was -very- wrong.

"That is the man I mentioned," Alerenn said quickly. "I must go. Estel, I will see you later tonight. Farewell, my lord." With that, the man took off running, cape flying behind him, rushing to the house on the corner and ducking into the doorway.

"I will take my leave," Elrond told Mayor Keric. "I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope your man regains his health."

"So do I, Lord Elrond," the old man sighed. "But, as of now, I will take my leave. The two of you may have your goodbyes, then Estel can meet me in the hall. Come, Arad." The mayor took the sandy-haired boy by the arm and led him into the building, his eyes following where his father had gone until they were inside.

Lord Elrond knelt in front of his son and spoke in quiet, hurried Sindarin. "Estel, while you are here you must not let them know where you are really from. You remember the alternatives we discussed."

"Not lies, but not the whole truth," Estel recited. "Yes, I remember. But what about the sick man? Why was the hunter behaving so strangely when it came to him?"

"I don't know, my son, but I need you to find out." Elrond's tone was urgent. "Something is very wrong here. I don't know what has happened, but I feel that it is something to be looked into. You may be able to help this man. You know how to avoid contracting illnesses. If you can find a way to see the man and you find that his condition is not improving, use the athelas treatment we have been practicing. But make sure that -no one- knows of its use."

"Yes, Ada."

Elrond breathed deeply, and pulled the boy close, shutting his eyes with a furrowed brow. "Be careful," he bade him. "I will not be here to talk your way out of things like the time you raided Celboril's pantry at midnight and nearly got yourself executed with a carving knife."

"That was rather enjoyable, though," Estel offered mischieviously, hugging him in return. The elf lord released him and held him at arm's length before rising and mounting his horse with one last, reassuring smile for the boy.

"I will return in three weeks time for a progress report," he told him. "You may then decide if you wish to return home, or stay for further study."

"Yes, Ada," Estel acknowledged. "Namarie. (Farewell.)"

Elrond nodded, then with one whispered word to the stallion, they galloped away down the road in a thin cloud of dust and into the cool, green forest, where the two servants joined him, and the trio disappeared into the shadows of the wood.

It was only when they were out of sight that Estel realized how alone he truly felt.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Someone had recently informed me that, as Telerin is a race of elves, or something like that, it isn't really a realistic elvish name. Being aware of that now, though, doesn't really change anything. I kinda like his name, and I can't think of a suitable alternative. Plus, he's called him that so often... If anyone can think of a good-translating, nice-sounding elven name to use, please tell me and maybe I'l use it. (Thank you to the reviewer who infromed me of this.) And yes, again, I made up all new names offhand, save Elrond and Estel. But if you didn't know that by now, why in the world are you reading this?

That's all for now folks! I will post more, but I don't know if it'll be before I leave or what. I wanted to be posting back and forth, one chappie Immortal Stranger, one chappie Firstborn at Helm's Deep. You guys pick. And yes, I know, no review answers, but I will post them later when I repost. Right now, it is 2:16 am and I am entitled to a little sleep.

Ta!

Em

(P.S. JAPAN! WWAAAIIIII! )

P.P.S. No, this story will probably not be finished before summer. But I WILL finish, and that I promise! I have the whole plot fully-formed in my head, same for Firstborn at Helm's Deep. See you next update!

Hi Deana!