Prompt 27 - Sleepless night/s
Elves didn't need as much sleep as men. This was a commonly known fact to elven healers. A basic or elementary level statement that really, most every elf knew, but it did have to be taught to healers specifically as part of their training.
Elrond was more intimately acquainted with this fact on multiple levels. Healing men was a far more frequent occurrence for the Lord of Rivendell than any other elven realm. Largely due to the rangers of course, there was no conceivable way he wouldn't help the men who descended from his brother Elros.
Not that he wouldn't help other men too, but not too many were comfortable with getting help from elves. Sometimes, circumstances brought injured men to their door, occasionally a desperate parent would come in search of a miracle for their child. These were few and far between.
Right now though, Elrond was almost able to run a study of healing behaviors, man and elf, side by side.
Here in Elrond's own house, in the rooms Elrond had designed for healers like himself to use to treat the injured and ill. There were two unconscious figures, one was a man with dark hair and noble face, his own adopted son Aragorn. On the other bed lay Legolas, an elf with pale blonde hair and an archers build. Both patients were pale and still.
Pacing the room with Elrond was a slightly taller elf, also with pale blonde hair. Both were fathers worried about their sons, Both waited, pacing, for signs of waking. Waiting for reassurances that their sons would show normal signs of life again.
Hours ago, Legolas' horse arrived in Rivendell without a rider. Uneasy, Elrond and Thranduil both headed out to track the horses path. Fate smiled on them that day and shortly after leaving Rivendell, they found their sons.
Their sons were fighting back to back in the midst of a small company of orcs. Legolas was fighting one handed and his arrows were long spent. Bleeding from a multitude of cuts and gashes Legolas was snarling at the orcs as they tried breaking through his one armed defense.
Aragorn was limping, he still swung his sword gracefully, but was weakened by a head wound. Blood dripping down his face and unable to properly distribute his weight with his damaged foot, the result was decreased power and damage with each blow his sword delivered.
As soon as they were sighted, the two fathers and the party who rode with them, swarmed the orcs. Sweeping the foul creatures away from the pair of friends who stood their ground in the middle, Elrond and Thranduil dismounted before the horses had stopped. Thranduil eliminated any remaining threats as Elrond ran to their children, reaching Arargon just in time to catch the man's collapsing form. Thranduil strode up to his son, orc blood blackening the blade in his hand, fear and anger making him look stern. Legolas managed a weak, "Thank you, Ada," before dropping bonelessly into his father's arms.
With emergency medical treatment out of the way, and the injured stabilized for travel, the whole group returned to Rivendell. Which brought them to now, Elrond and Thranduil attempting to play chess as a way to pass the time but spending most of their time watching the occupied beds.
"Thranduil, your turn," Elrond prompted, as his friend remained focused on Legolas.
"You said they would not wake tonight?" Thranduil asked, again, his head propped up in his hand.
"I sincerely doubt it," Elrond affirmed. "With their collection of injuries it might even be a couple of days."
Moving a chess piece, Thranduil sighed. "Do you think they will ever understand what they put us through?"
Elrond gave a wry smile, "I certainly doubt it." Taking his turn, Elrond waited for Thranduil's next move.
"Checkmate," Thranduil said, boxing in Elrond's king.
"Two wins for you, one for me," Elrond tallied.
As they set up a new board, dinner was delivered to the healers room. Elrohir had brought their meal personally.
"How many games now?" Elrohir asked, setting down their trays nearby.
"Three," Thranduil answered, sniffing the food appreciatively.
"He has the greater wins," Elrond offered, sitting down to his tray.
Watching the two tired fathers begin the meal, Elrohir mused to himself under his breath, "I wonder." He stared at the two patients thoughtfully.
"Wonder what, Elrohir? Elrond inquired, mostly focused on his meal.
"Oh, nothing. I just had a passing fancy," Elrohir answered, turning back to the table.
"Oh? I am now curious, what was your fancy?" Thranduil pressed, happy for a distraction.
"I just briefly wondered how many chess games it would take for those two to wake up," Elrohor responded, with a shrug. "I bet you could manage even a hundred games while they sleep."
"I just might take your bet," Thranduil said, looking quite interested. He glanced at Elrond, who was thinking hard.
"I would bet one hundred and thirty-five games at least," Elrond decided. "Thranduil? Do you have a guess?"
"Considering, I know nothing of how your son heals, I am unsure," Thranduil tapped the table as he thought. "How about I bet on Legolas' recovery and you can bet on Aragorn's?"
"Agreed," Elrond said, seeming pleased.
Finishing up their meal, Elrohir cleared the trays and smirked to himself once his back was turned. His job was done here.
Writing down their bets, Elrond marked himself for one hundred and forty games before Aragon woke up and Thranduil chose one hundred and twenty-three before Legolas woke. The stakes were set, the loser was to play a public game of chess with Glorfindel.
Now invested, and unknowingly distracted. Elrond and Thranduil set to the game with a competitiveness that had not been seen for many years.
Sleepless, they persevered through the night. Daylight shone through the windows and the competition continued. They didn't even break for meals, they took bites off their trays between turns.
Playing without stopping, another sleepless night passed, now starting to look a bit worse of wear, they reached their one hundredth game around midnight. Sunrise the second morning came, bright and cheery. A crowd slowly grew as Thanduil's deadline approached.
Elrond and Thranduil played faster and faster. By midmorning, the one hundred and twenty third game was completed. Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief that his son was still asleep. He was safe. Blinking at the absurdity of his reaction, being grateful his son was still asleep indeed.
The board was quickly reset and now they rushed to save Elrond from the public spectacle of losing to Glorfindel.
Confused by the noise around him, Legolas blinked slowly. People were cheering and it was so loud. He looked towards the foot of his bed to see a crowd making bets and watching something blocked from his view by the number of bodies in the way.
"One hundred and forty complete!" Elladan yelled, the crowd cheering.
Baffled at the commotion Legolas just watched, not like he would be heard over the ruckus anyway. Glancing over at the bed next to him, Legolas watched Aragon blink awake. Arargorn was unsure what was happening because Elrond wouldn't let this many people into the healers room at once.
Exchanging confused glances, the two patients decided it was too much work to figure it out. Closing their eyes, they quickly fell back asleep.