Disclaimer: Those you recognize belong to Tolkien. I do not own them. Those you do not recognize belong to me.

Summary: Gaining the friendship of a mortal child was not something Thranduil expected on his trip to Imladris with his son. But when secret plots result in grave consequences, the boy may be the king's one hope of survival.

Author's Note: So, okay. My fall semester has started up for me, so my updates are gonna be a bit slower. But I'll try to keep as steady of an update pace as possible, as well as for my other story I'm currently posting. But after that cliffhanger, here's the next chapter! Thanks so much to Gwedhiel0117, Elven Warrior Princess, Estel, The Pearl Maiden, PatonxJulia, Doreen, Lou-deadfroggy, and iccle fairy for your reviews! Hope you like this one too!

Elvish:

daro– stop/halt
hír-nín– my lord
penneth– young one
ada– father
tithen pen– little one

Chapter 5

Amonost winced when he was roughly shoved to the stone floor of the dark room, glancing back as Glorfindel stepped inside after him. There had been times where he himself had interrogated prisoners in this very room, though oftentimes it was the twice-born warrior who had the pleasure. The guard had never envisioned that he would be on the receiving end of the golden-haired Elf's treatment.

"Where would Aeglironion flee?" Glorfindel wasted no time with matters of formality. Time was of the essence.

"I... I know not," Amonost said earnestly. "He did not–!"

The guard's statement was abruptly interrupted by a swift kick to the leg by Glorfindel. He usually would not have resorted to such measures, at least so soon, though he was tired of not receiving the answers he needed from the guard he had once trusted who had now betrayed him. "Answer me," the Balrog Slayer demanded firmly but quietly as he began to circle.

Amonost took a deep breath, keeping his hand over his leg protectively, before shaking his head slightly. "I told you, Lord Glorfindel, I know not where–!"

Glorfindel instantly knelt beside his prisoner as he drew his sword, grasping a handful of his dark hair to force him to look at the blade. Amonost winced once more. There were limits set in place that restricted what could be done in interrogations which protected the one receiving them, though the golden-haired warrior was close to breaching them. And by the impassive look on his face, he did not mind.

"Do you not understand what is at stake?" Glorfindel asked so quietly his voice was hardly above a whisper. "A life hangs in the balance with what you are now able to tell me. We must have that antidote. So I ask you again. Where is he?"

"Would Lord Elrond approve of your methods, Lord Glorfindel?" Amonost wondered with a slight smirk.

Glorfindel's light eyes narrowed dangerously as he pulled the guard's head back a bit, moving his sword closer to his throat. "Should King Thranduil die, his death shall rest on your head," he murmured, his voice filled with venom. "Am I understood?"

Amonost nodded, clearly nervous, before Glorfindel lowered his blade and shoved him away. The dark-haired Elf rubbed his arm as the twice-born warrior sheathed his sword and rose to his feet, his intense gaze lingering on his prisoner as he began to pace once more. The guard slowly sat up, his gaze resting on Glorfindel. "Aeglironion keeps the herb with him," he explained. "It is required for the antidote, as is athelas. Without it, the athelas would merely prolong the suffering of your friend the king."

Glorfindel paused, slowly reaching for his sword for the second time. Amonost's face paled. "Daro!" he begged, backing away from the Balrog Slayer a little as he raised a hand before him in a peaceful gesture. "You must understand, Lord Glorfindel, I know not where Aeglironion went. He likely remains in the house."

"He would not linger for long. Where would he go once he leaves?" Glorfindel pressed, wrapping his hand around his sword hilt. "Would he return to Mirkwood?"

Amonost's gaze faltered as he slowly shook his head. "No, hír-nín," he told him, eyeing the weapon on his hip anxiously. "He cannot return there."

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed slightly. "He cannot return to Mirkwood?" he repeated. "Why is he unable to?"

The dark-haired guard sighed, lowering his gaze slightly. "I have already said too much," he murmured.

There was a moment of silence where neither of them moved. Then, Glorfindel drew his sword, his fair face impassive as he slowly walked toward Amonost, the blade glinting menacingly in the soft moonlight filtering into the room.

Erestor stepped out into the hallway and shut the door of his room behind him. He could not stop a wince as he made his way down the hall, his wounded side protesting to the motion of each step he took. Though he had allowed Elrond to clean and wrap the injury, he had not accepted the pain reducing herbs he had offered to make, despite his friend's insistence. His only concern was even though it had considerably slowed to a point where it had nearly stopped, blood had stained the bandages, and they would need to be changed. However, it was something he would not bother the Elf lord with since he could take care of it himself. Thranduil was in need of Elrond's care more than he.

The chief advisor slowly walked around the corner, his dark eyes widening slightly with surprise when he nearly collided with another dark-haired Elf. "Elladan?"

"Where is Glorfindel?" the older twin son of Elrond asked immediately.

"He is securing Amonost," Erestor answered. But then, his eyes narrowed. "Elladan, are you all right?"

Confusion crossed Elladan's face before he raised his hand to his cheek, seeing traces of crimson staining his fingertips when he pulled it away. "I am fine," he said quickly, brushing off the slender Elf's concern. "'Tis not deep."

Erestor eyed the slight cut on Elladan's face for a moment longer before meeting his gaze. "What happened?" he wondered.

"I pursued Aeglironion for a time before he managed to catch me off guard," Elladan explained. "I have searched the house but was unable to trace him. Glorfindel must set a perimeter."

Nodding once, Erestor set his hand on the older twin's arm and began to lead him down the hall in the direction of where their guards interrogated prisoners as quickly as his injured side allowed. Aeglironion could not leave Imladris, not with a life hanging in the balance. They walked in silence for a time before Elladan glanced at the chief advisor's still slightly paler face as he seemed to still favor his left side.

"How do you fare?" he asked quietly.

"Do not be concerned for me," Erestor answered, keeping his stern gaze ahead of him. "There are more important matters at hand, Elladan."

Elladan watched him for a moment, noticing the slight wince that crossed his face as they continued walking. "What of Thranduil?" he wondered.

Erestor lowered his gaze. "If we do not find Aeglironion, I fear he will not last," he muttered, unable to meet the younger Elf's inquiring gaze. "His one chance lies with Elrond's skill. Your father is doing what he is able, but he feels it may not be enough. It is imperative we detain Aeglironion."

Worry crossed Elladan's face. He had been confident his father's skill would be enough to aid the ailing king, but the doubts the Elf lord had concerned him. Elrond had always been so certain. To be so unsure now did not suit him. "Do... do you believe Thranduil will survive?"

The chief advisor glanced at the older twin when he heard the hesitance in his tone, sighing as he deliberated his answer. "I know not, penneth," he whispered, lowering his gaze. "Though I pray that is so."

No more words passed between the two dark-haired Elves as they turned the corner, making their way toward an open door at the end. Then, they paused when they heard a scream, and Elladan exchanged a concerned look with Erestor before he ran toward the interrogation room, the thin Elf following behind as quickly as his faltering step would allow.

The older twin stopped in the doorway, watching as Amonost wrapped his arms protectively around his midsection as he leaned back against the wall and gasped for breath. Glorfindel stood before him, his face impassive as he looked down on the traitorous guard. In his hand, he held his sword.

"Glorfindel!" Startled, Elladan rushed into the room and wrapped his arms around the golden-haired warrior, pulling him back a little. Glorfindel knew the limits of interrogation since he had aided in setting them in place. Erestor stepped inside the room soon after, studying his friend's blade carefully and noticing it was clean.

"Do not fret, Elladan," Glorfindel muttered, not fighting the younger Elf's hold on him as his smoldering gaze lingered on the guard before them. "I have no intent to use it. Merely to threaten."

"You may tell your father, Lord Elladan, that Lord Glorfindel has breached the limits of interrogation," Amonost muttered from where he was stretched on the hard ground, chuckling quietly while the older twin released the Balrog Slayer. "Anything I have said shall be disregarded."

Elladan appeared ready to retort, though Erestor took a step closer to the guard, his dark eyes narrowed. "With the circumstances at hand, I believe Lord Elrond may make an exception," he told him quietly. "This interrogation is the least of his concerns."

The lithe advisor then turned his attention to Glorfindel. "Have you gained any insight to Aeglironion's whereabouts?" he asked.

Glorfindel glanced at the door of the room, and Erestor led the way out into the hall with Elladan and the golden-haired warrior behind him. Once they were out of the room, Glorfindel shut the door and slid the heavy lock in place to secure their prisoner. "Nay," he answered heavily, glancing at the older twin. His light eyes flickered when they ran over the cut on his cheek. "He has escaped?"

Elladan's gaze faltered. "He caught me off guard," he explained quietly. "I know not where he is now."

"I will set a perimeter," Glorfindel said, mainly to himself as he began to walk down the hall, the two dark-haired Elves following closely. "Mayhap he has not yet left our borders." He paused, shaking his head slightly. "Amonost has confirmed the herb Aeglironion possesses is needed for the antidote. We must find him with all haste. Mayhap I should send a few guards to Mirkwood in case..."

"Mirkwood?" Erestor repeated, falling in step beside him. "For what purpose?"

Glorfindel glanced back at the stern advisor. "Aeglironion hails from Mirkwood," he muttered.

Erestor's eyes narrowed slightly. "I remember when he arrived, though I do not recall him telling us he had come from Mirkwood."

The golden-haired warrior sighed. "Neither do I," he replied, a hint of anger in his tone. "Though now he has proven why he arrived."

Glorfindel soon left, hurrying to prepare a patrol to set the perimeter in hopes they were not too late to detain Aeglironion. Erestor continued toward the room where Elrond was tending to Thranduil with Elladan until the older twin slowed to a stop.

"Has Estel been put to bed?" he wondered.

"Aye, before I found you," Erestor confirmed, stopping as well as he glanced back at him.

Elladan smiled, though it had a slightly somber feel. "I wish to check on him," he said. "He has had a difficult night."

Erestor nodded once, able to see the concern Elladan had for his young foster brother. "He may need you," he muttered.

"I will do what I am able to aid Ada once I am through." Elladan watched as Erestor continued toward the staircase before he turned and took the hallway that would bring him to Estel's room. With the events of that night, he was still concerned for the child after what he had endured, unable to forget how terrified the five-year-old was as he held him in his arms when their patrol discovered him and Thranduil, unable to forget the sobs that shook his small frame as the tears rolled freely down his cheeks.

The older twin forced these thoughts aside as he approached the mortal's room, reaching out and quietly pushing open the door. If the boy was sleeping, he did not want to disturb him.

But when Elladan leaned into the room, his gray eyes widened in horror at the sight before him. The blankets and pillows of the bed were scattered carelessly on the floor, the chair by the window was knocked over, and a few books that had been stacked on top of the desk had spilled onto the floor.

"Estel!" Elladan yelled, stepping into the room and looking around anxiously. "Estel!"

But his call went unanswered. Estel was nowhere in sight.

Estel sniffed as Aeglironion snuck down the hallway, a couple more tears escaping from his eyes as he struggled in the cook's tight hold on him. The fair-haired Elf had secured a rag around his mouth to keep him quiet, and the child despised the taste it left on his tongue. However, his efforts to escape only amused Aeglironion as a slight smirk crossed his fair features.

"You may struggle all you wish, Estel, it will not change anything," he muttered, glancing into the hallway ahead of him and making sure it was clear before he continued. "I must leave one parting gift for your father, and then we shall be on our way."

Something in the cook's tone sent a chill down Estel's spine as Aeglironion hurried through the double doors into the dark kitchens. The large room was empty as he made his way to where the food was prepared, and the cook set the child on the floor beside him before he began to go through the cupboards.

"As I told your brother, there are other ways to meet the same end," Aeglironion said quietly, setting a plate and an empty pastry crust on the counter. His hands shook ever so slightly, his actions seeming almost frantic.

Estel watched him for a moment, his eyes widening slightly when the cook pulled out a vial containing what appeared to be a deep green herb from his tunic. He remembered Elrond mentioning something about herbs being what poisoned Thranduil, and there was no doubt in his mind that these were the culprit. He was going to hurt his foster father.

Aeglironion prepared to line the pastry crust with the finely cut herb, but Estel turned himself so that he was facing the cook before he reached out and wrapped his arms tightly around his leg. The fair-haired Elf quickly looked down, attempting to shake him off.

"Release me, you little wretch!" he snapped.

However, Estel did not relent his hold. Aeglironion growled angrily, but before either of them could do anything more, the cook paused when the door to the kitchens opened. The traitorous Elf quickly turned his gaze back to the child. "Make any sound and I will slip some of these to your brothers," he threatened in nearly a whisper, holding the vial up for emphasis before slipping it back into his tunic. "Or mayhap your dear friend Legolas. The choice is yours, tithen pen."

Estel's gaze flickered nervously as Aeglironion straightened up, and the child watched from the small gap in the counter the cook was standing behind as another member of the kitchen staff entered the dark room. "What are you doing in here so late?" she asked curiously. Estel resisted the urge to cry out since she was so close, though he knew how muffled the sound would have been, as more tears rolled down his cheeks before being claimed by the rag that kept him quiet.

Aeglironion gave her a charming smile. "I regret to say I must depart Imladris tonight," he answered. "To show my gratitude for all Lord Elrond has done for me during my stay here, I merely wish to leave him a small treat for the morrow."

The dark-haired cook's face visibly fell. "Must you leave?" she wondered, taking a step closer to him. However, she paused when Aeglironion raised a hand.

"I am afraid I must," he told her, his smile lingering. "There are other matters that are demanding my attention." He then reached across the counter and took her hand, leaving a light kiss on the back of her hand. "It is true when I say I will miss such wonderful company."

Estel wrinkled his nose and looked away at the affectionate display, knowing it was probably not genuine. However, what the child was not expecting was how close he was sitting to the cupboard. His head hit the wooden surface as he turned it, making a soft thump, and he bit down hard on the rag in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly to prevent his quiet whimper of pain from escaping as he released the cook's leg. The boy's heart raced anxiously as tears slipped from behind his eyelids, remembering his captor's threat.

There was a tense moment of silence where Aeglironion stiffened slightly as the female cook looked around the dark kitchen with confusion. "What was that?" she wondered.

Aeglironion forced a smile as he chuckled quietly. "I simply bumped my knee," he explained, tightening his hold on her hand slightly so she would not move. "Nothing to fret about."

Estel cautiously opened his eyes, a moment passing before he slowly released the breath he was holding when the other cook seemed to believe Aeglironion's explanation. For the time being, his family and friends would be safe. However, it was not long after more meaningless conversation when she politely excused herself, and the child's heart sank as he watched his chance of freedom disappear into the darkness.

Once she was gone, the doors closing behind her, the feigned smile vanished from Aeglironion's face as he quickly turned to Estel. The child cowered under his heated gaze, curling in on himself a little. The fair-haired cook knelt before him, pulling the rag from his mouth but quickly covering it with his hand.

"If you make one loud sound or call for help, the consequences will be the same. Am I understood?" Aeglironion murmured. When Estel nodded quickly in silent response, he cautiously lowered his hand, seeming pleased when the boy dared not utter any sound. "What did I tell you about alerting her to your presence?

Estel's eyes widened fearfully. "I'm sowwy!" he protested. "I didn't mean to. It was an acc'dent!"

Aeglironion studied his small captive for another long moment before sighing, and though the boy realized it could have been his imagination or a trick of the light, he believed he saw the cook's light gaze falter before he returned the rag to Estel's mouth. He then tore off a strip from the end of his cloak, and despite how the child struggled, managed to tie his hands together. He rose to his feet, his light eyes narrowing slightly as they passed over the pastry crust.

"I have no more time," he muttered to himself, frustration lacing his tone. "My presence here has been alerted. No doubt Glorfindel will be on my trail." Aeglironion glanced down at Estel once more. "Your father is fortunate, tithen pen. At least for now. Mayhap some other mean will present itself, but we must be on our way."

Estel shook his head as the cook stepped closer, an action that was ignored as Aeglironion effortlessly picked him up from the floor before swiftly leaving the kitchens.

Elrond leaned on the railing of the porch, a smile gracing his fair features as he watched Glorfindel run around with his young sons in front of their house. He chuckled quietly when Elladan, the slightly bolder of the two, climbed up to sit on the golden-haired Elf's shoulders while Elrohir clung tightly to his leg when their nemesis attempted to walk. Erestor stood near his lord, impassively watching the game the Balrog Slayer and the twins were engaged in, though an amused glint appeared in his dark eyes when the Elflings managed to bring Glorfindel to the ground.

The lord of Imladris then glanced down when a gentle hand took his, his smile broadening as he turned to face a beaming Celebrían. Elrond pulled his fair-haired wife closer, wrapping a secure arm around her as she rested her head on his chest while they continued to watch their children. Celebrían laughed when Glorfindel began to tickle Elladan and Elrohir in retaliation, winding her arms around Elrond as he ran a hand lightly through her hair.

However, the sound of the twins' cheerful laughter slowly trailed off, and Elrond raised his gaze when a couple alarmed shouts came from the trees. Celebrían lifted her head as Glorfindel rose to his feet, and she pulled away from her husband when Elladan and Elrohir hurried up the porch steps to her, enfolding them both in her arms. Elrond took a step closer to his family, his intense gray eyes not moving from the gate of his realm, while Erestor moved to stand beside him.

Glorfindel joined a few guards who approached to see what was happening while Amonost and a couple other members of the patrol who had been set in the forest for that night entered through the gate. The young soldier was supporting a weary fair-haired Elf who was not quite able to walk on his own.

Elrond took a step forward, pausing for a moment when he felt Celebrían take his hand once more. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze before releasing her hand, turning his attention to the guards as he swiftly walked down the porch steps. Glorfindel fell into place beside him as they approached Amonost, and they both looked over the ailing Elf carefully.

"Who are you?" Elrond asked once he saw he was conscious.

The fair-haired Elf slowly raised his gaze to meet Elrond's, taking a deep breath. "Ae... Aeglironion, hír-nín," he answered quietly, his tone weak with exhaustion. "I... I had to leave my home..."

Elrond glanced at Glorfindel before turning back to Aeglironion. "Where do you hail from?"

Aeglironion appeared ready to answer, but his light eyes closed as he limply fell toward the ground. The lord of Imladris immediately reached out and caught him before he could hit, quickly taking him into his arms from Amonost as he hurried back toward the house, Glorfindel following behind.

The Elf lord remembered that day clearly. Once Aeglironion had regained consciousness, he had still not spoken of where he had hailed from or why he had left. Elrond had not pushed him, but never being one to turn away anyone in need, he had allowed him to stay in Imladris while he recovered from the exhaustion he had suffered. During his stay, Aeglironion proved he possessed a talent for food preparation, and once he was revived, Elrond had offered him a place to stay among the kitchen staff since it appeared he had nowhere else to go. From that day forward, Aeglironion had served as one of their most respected cooks.

However, now that the Elf lord was reflecting on it, he could not shake the feeling that he had known Aeglironion before he appeared in Rivendell, or at least had been acquainted with him, but could not remember from where. Regardless, nothing he could think of provided any insight to the cook's current actions against him and Thranduil.

"Ada."

The voice of his youngest son brought him out of his thoughts, and Elrond turned to see a concerned Elrohir looking back at him. "Thranduil," he muttered in answer to the Elf lord's silent question.

Elrond glanced past Elrohir to the bed, his own worry increasing when he heard the Mirkwood king's quiet gasps as he struggled to breathe. Legolas sat beside him, holding one of Thranduil's hands in one of his while he dabbed at his pale, sweat-drenched face with a damp cloth he had been given with his other. The fear the prince felt was clear in his gaze, which faltered with each shallow breath his father took.

"Elrohir, prepare some mint," Elrond said as he turned back to the herbs that were sitting in front of him. Athelas and the poison Aeglironion had used against Thranduil. There was so little of the latter the Elf lord was still unsure if it would make a difference, but if he did not attempt to create some antidote, he was certain his friend would not see the light of morning.

"Is this all Amonost mentioned?" Elrond asked once more as Elrohir hurriedly began to prepare what his father requested, glancing at where his chief advisor was sitting stiffly in the cushioned chair beneath the window.

Erestor met his lord's gaze. "That is what Glorfindel said, Elrond," he answered quietly with a slight nod.

Elrond sighed, passing a hand over his face while his weary gaze passed over the scarce materials he had to work with for a long moment. He could feel Erestor's dark eyes on him with concern, but he ignored it. Attempting to cast his own doubts aside, the Elf lord began to crush both the athelas and the poison in hopes he would be granted some result.

Suddenly, he heard a quiet but startled gasp from behind him, and the Elf lord quickly turned over his shoulder. Legolas was looking down on his father with horror, and Elrond hurried over to the bed with Erestor close behind. "What is it, penneth?"

The prince, however, only shook his head slightly as he tightened his hand around his father's. Without waiting for an answer, Elrond quickly turned his gray eyes to Thranduil, noticing his closed eyes were narrowed slightly in distress as his shallow breath quickened. The lord of Imladris leaned forward a bit and lightly placed his hand on the king's deathly pale forehead, concerned by the heat he felt radiating from it. His fever had not lowered, even after the herbs he had been given.

But what concerned him the most was the slightly blueish tint Thranduil's lips had taken on. He couldn't breathe.

"All haste with the mint, Elrohir," Elrond muttered, attempting to keep his tone steady. "Mayhap more chamomile to soothe the fever."

Elrohir glanced up from where he was already preparing the mint. "Aye, Ada."

"It will aid him?" Legolas wondered, looking at Elrond hopefully.

Elrond met the prince's concerned gaze, giving him a small, hopefully reassuring smile. "It will counteract the symptoms of the poison until I am able to create the antidote," he confirmed.

Legolas appeared to be appeased by his answer as he nodded once. He moved his gaze back to his father, ignoring Elrond's comforting hand on his arm. But then, the Mirkwood prince stiffened as the Elf lord quickly turned back to the bed.

Thranduil's eyes were wide open, looking up at them with clear panic. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times as though attempting to speak, but no sound was heard.

"Calm yourself, mellon-nín," Elrond said, setting both hands on the king's arms to make Thranduil look at him. "Are you able to tell me what is ailing you?"

The Woodland king did not respond, and the anxiety did not leave his eyes. Legolas then leaned closer, brushing a few strands of Thranduil's hair back from his sweat-drenched face. "I am here, Ada," he muttered calmly while Erestor took a step closer to him. "I am here."

Thranduil immediately turned his attention to the prince as he tightened his ringed fingers around his, his faraway eyes remaining on his son's face. Legolas attempted to give him a smile, but the look vanished immediately when the king's eyes closed again. He looked up at Elrond anxiously, who turned to Elrohir with a pointed glance.

"Ready, Ada," the younger twin told him, hurrying toward the bed with the bowl of crushed mint.

Elrond quickly took it as he turned back to the prince. "Legolas, I need you to–!"

But he was interrupted when a sudden cry of fear escaped from the Mirkwood prince.

Elrond looked at Thranduil, watching with horror as he gave a couple more gasps before his hand went limp around his son's as his head lolled to the side onto his pillow, the sound of his harsh breaths quieting.

He had stopped breathing.

Author's Note: *hides from readers* I'd like to take a moment to say that if you guys cause the writer any bodily harm, the next chapter will come much slower, lol! Um, yeah. I know I'm terrible. But, we'll see how things turn out with time now running out. Will Thranduil be all right? We'll have to find out ;) On a lighter note, I may have to write more with Elrond and Celebrían at some point. They're fun, lol! Anyway, thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thanks!