A/N This chapter took me for a turn. I guess one can't always stop the muse when they have a firm hold on you! :) Especially when it involves more h/c. ;)

Disclaimer: not mine.

Chapter Thirteen

Aragorn didn't know how long he slept. Once he remembered waking once only to find Glorfindel in the chair next to him, reading a book.

"Sleep," he had commanded without glancing up. "Elrond's says that you can't leave this room until at least noon. Besides, the door are locked and you would have to get past me." So he had slept. The next time he awoke, he felt much more refreshed and normal. Morning light was streaming in through his wide open windows and Glorfindel was gone.

Assuming that it would indeed be safe to get up, he swung out of bed. Wasting no time, he dressed and hurried out the door, making a beeline for Legolas' room.

"You're up!" Elrohir said with a hint of surprise as he straightened from his bent over position next to Legolas.

"Yea, he only slept for more than 24 hours." Elladan smirked as Aragorn frowned.

"I did not," he started out defiantly "…did I?"

"You did," Elrohir confirmed much to Aragorn's disaffection. "You were clearly exhausted after dragging Legolas all the way from Mirkwood, and in record time too, I might add."

"Yes, well, you would travel like you had a pack of orcs at your tails too if you had seen Legolas' condition. "How is he, anyway?"

Elladan sighed, dropping his chin onto his clasped hands. "He is about the same. Ada has been in and out."

"Which is…" Aragorn promoted, moving around the twins to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, but Legolas did not stir. The twins had managed to settle him down with as much peace as could be afforded him, but the look of somewhat calm on his face could not disguise the pain or discomfort written there. They had turned his head to the side, allowing blood to dribble out onto a folded towel they had strategically placed, and his eyes were sunken deep into their sockets.

"He is about the same as after Ada had supplemented him," Elladan answered tiredly, watching as Aragorn clutched the prince's hand to his chest.

Nothing much happened over the next few hours, the sons of Elrond hardly even moveing. They would occasionally switch the towel out for a clean one, but for the most part they were as still as Mirkwood's prince. Elrond was in and out, but he never stayed very long or administered anything. His face was a mask of grim determination, but not much hope was evident in his eyes. Evening came and went as night descended. Aragorn slowly succumbed to sleep once more with his head on the bed and Legolas' hand still clutched tight enough in his that it would have taken a wrench to pull them apart.

He was awaken, not long later, however, by a flurry of activity and many voices. For a moment he just let the noise envelope him, before blinking his eyes open to find Elrond's group of healers moving about. Elrond was bent in front of Legolas, doing something that Aragorn couldn't see.

"What's going on?" Aragorn asked thickly, lifting his head off his arms. Elrond glanced kindly back at him, smiling grimly as his eyes spoke of his worry.

"We need to be closer to Legolas. It isn't efficient to always be running back and forth to check this or that." Elrond moved the cloth he was holding up to wipe at the blood on Legolas' face. To Aragorn's surprise, he didn't replace the material, even as a fresh drop began to form at the corner of the elf's white lips. "We are going to move Legolas down to the healing halls."

Aragorn blinked once in surprise and a frowned marred his handsome face.

"Legolas doesn't like the Healing Halls," he muttered more to himself than anyone, but Elladan caught it.

"Bette that then death," he rebuked with a wan smile.

Under Elrond's guidance, the team of elves carefully transferred Legolas from his own bed and down three floors and into the healing halls. But they did not stop there, as Aragorn expected, but rather moved straight to Elrond's large and spacious work room, which was located in the back. Here, the elves who were carrying Legolas' body laid him on a previously cluttered table. The clutter had all been shoved to the next table while a white sheet was spread across the now clear wooden surface. The healers coverage on the elf and Aragorn and Elrohir were pushed to the back. Numbers and figures were being shouted out to Elrond and it masked Aragorn's disgruntled sigh.

"I'd prefer it if they moved him to a bed rather than a table," he muttered to Elrohir as they watched Legolas in-between the sea of healers. Elrond has requested Elladan's help, denying Aragorn's instead because, as he had put it, he had already done enough.

"He can't tell the difference," Elrohir reminded gently, placing a hand on Aragorn's shoulder in support.

"No, but it would make me feel better," Aragorn confessed. "He looks dead. You put the living in beds and the dead on tables. My brain is just having a hard time switching and not telling me that he is dead."

Elrohir shrugged helplessly, tightening his grip on the man. "He would look dead anywhere you placed him, if that is any consolation."

"It's not."

After the initial commotion, Aragorn and his brother were able to move closer, taking up their vigil at the prince's side. It didn't look as though the short trip had agreed with him as the translucent look from the forest had appeared once more. He began to shiver lightly now that no blanket covered him, and the ranger took his hand, attempting to rub some warmth into.

"I don't like this," Aragorn stated, shaking his head.

"Neither does Ada. Look." Elrohir pointed at their father and sure enough lines of concern and worry had bitten into the ancient elf's face, and he was snapping out orders which was most unlike him.

An hour again passed, and Aragorn finally left the work room in search of a blanket to make the ill prince more comfortable. He hated and couldn't stand the venerability that encased the normally strong and proud elf. He returned almost an hour later with suspiciously red eyes and nose but no one mentioned it, for which he was grateful. The blanket he had returned with did little good for Legolas, however, as the healers worked constantly over him. The silky, but warm, blanket remained pulled down to his waist.

Elladan drifted over after a while, joining his brothers with a discouraged expression on his face.

"Ada said that I had to take a break, and that you two should too. He might just kick you out, you know, with the mood he is in."

"No, not me," Aragorn said grimly, his face darkening. He was currently kneeling by Legolas' head, with his own resting tiredly right beside. He was gently running a hand through the blond hair in calculated, slow, strokes.

"He is frustrated. He knows that he is close but the answer is still evading him," Elladan defended, sinking to sit against the wall to watch the hubbub. Elrohir sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Aragorn turned his own vigil back to Legolas. His eyes moved from the elf's face, to his heaving chest, and then back again and all too soon he became lost in the simple pattern, therefore jumped a foot when someone tapped him one the shoulder. Looking up, he saw his father.

"I'm not going to move!" he declared stubbornly, his jaw tightening as he remember Elladan's words. Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not asking you to move…yet. I want you to show me something." He turned, beckoning for the man to follow him. Aragorn stood slowly, giving the ancient elf a suspicious look.

Elrond moved over to the work tables, requesting him to show them what had been in his solution that he had created in Mirkwood. As he poured over his work, Aragorn felt his fingers stop trembling. He knew this, he was comfortable with everything his fingers touched. The smell of different herbs, the feel of them against his fingers, and the sight of so many different ones…it was comforting to know what he was doing.

"His pulse is racing, Hir-nin." At the low voice, Aragorn jerked his head back up, watching the other healer in an anxious tone. "And his breathing is becoming more difficult…" before the other elf could finish his sentence, Elrond was moving back to Legolas' side, Aragorn right behind him.

Elladan had propped Legolas back up as the faint gurgling became more pronounced once again, but it wasn't helping. The prince was hardly able to breath. His throat was straining as his chest heaved and Aragorn froze. This moment and the moment in the rain blended together until he could hardly tell if he was out in the cold once more, or if he was safe at his father's house. And yet again he could do nothing for Legolas.

He didn't realize that he himself had almost stopped breathing so zoned in was he on Legolas until someone slapped him hard across the face. Blinking in surprise, he wrenched his gaze away from Legolas to find Elrohir and Elladan standing in front of him with the elder twin grasping his shoulders.

"Estel, do you need to leave?" Elrohir asked gently. The man had been through one thing after another ever since leaving Imladris and it was clear he was not himself. He was tired to the bone and his emotional state was fragile as they inched closer to losing the prince.

"No! I want to stay with Legolas," Aragorn returned immediately, pushing past his brothers to get to the elf's side. But they moved one to block him, each standing squarely in front of him.

"I want an answer from your head, not your heart." Elladan crossed his arms, worry for his youngest brother clear. "Can you watch Legolas go through this, or do you need to leave. No one will judge you, Legolas would understand."

"He…he needs me! I can't let go now. What…what if…" he trailed, unable to finish the sentence even though his jaw continued to move. Both elves were quiet, but the hard reality was right in their faces, and they couldn't deny it. Silently, they parted and allowed Aragorn to pass.

He slipped into a space by Legolas' head, and the twins moved in closer to their father, who had once more slipped into a healing trance. They could hear Aragorn muttering a prayer, but if it was too Legolas or the Valar was unclear. Legolas continued to struggle to draw in air, it was growing worse rather than better and the tension in the room escalated a notch.

The hurried shouts turned into panicked whispers, and then the prince's breathing stopped all together.

"No! Legolas, Legolas! Come on!" Aragorn's voice was shaky as he clutched all the tighter at the elf's cold hand. One of the elves next to him laid his head on Legolas' chest, listening. Elrond shifted, sensing his patient's distress deeply and the glow around them brightened, pulsing strongly.

"His heart still beats," the elf murmured, lifting his head. "We have not lost him yet."

"Nor shall we," Elrond exclaimed vehemently as he jerked himself out of the trace. He swayed alarmingly and Elladan and Elrohir each took one of his arms, leading him over to a chair. "Give him some of the Lirva."

A healer jumped to obey and Aragorn assisted in leaning Legolas upright. Sliding behind him, he supported his light weight and allowing his head to tip back into the hallow of his neck. Someone shoved a bowel into the prince's lap and the room fell silent as another elf pried the prince's mouth open and administered the medicine.

The silence didn't last long as the horrible sounds of retching, heaving, and splattering filled the air once more. The medication was working and soon, the vile stench of blood had filled the air, causing many to scrunch their noses.

As the sounds continued, Elrond made to get up, but Elladan pressed him back down.

"No, Ada, not yet. Give yourself a moment," he insisted, but Elrond shook his head.

"Legolas needs me," he began, "The Lirva was too much, I fear. His body will be unable to handle it."

"He was given just a pinch, Hir-nin," One of the healers called back.

"See, Ada. Legolas is strong, he will not give up." Elrohir also bent over his father, concern palpable. The sounds of retching stopped and all three glanced over at the table.

"I'm fine, my sons. Go see to Legolas," Elrond instructed, waving them away. With a backward glance at him, the twins passed an elf carefuly bearing the bowel full of bright red blood away. He walked slowly, so as not to splash its slopping contents all over, and Aragorn's eyes followed him.

"How is he?"Elladan asked Aragorn after sharing another concerned look with each other.

"Not good," Aragorn answered, clearly distressed. "That was a lot of blood…"

"We know, we saw."

"But it is alright," Aragorn cut in determinedly, "Because he is going to make it." The twins shared another fearful work. The odds were stacked against Legolas, but Aragorn had seen Legolas through many near death experiences.. The elf hadn't ever fully died on them, not yet anyway. Aragorn was right, it was not yet time to give up all hope.

TBC...

Lets all hold onto that hope... Legolas will need it. :)

Review Replies:

ElvenPrincess: Yes, Aragorn got what we all love the most...a good long nap. At least that is what I always want. :) But anything after that I don't think he enjoyed very much, which is understandable. :) Thanks!

Lir: Well, the number of times I have meant to review and haven't is more than yours, I guarantee! Oh, poor Thranduil... we haven't been to see him in a while, but yea... that is for sure what he would be doing! ;) Legolas might have been a little OOC but, ahh, well. Thanks so much!

Lord Illyren: Haha... yea, don't trust that everything will be alright until the story is actually over. FF have a way of throwing something new at you just when you think everything is fine. :) And yes! The road just keeps getting steeper! Thank you so much for your kind words!