Disclaimer: None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

Rating: PG-13 (T)

A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful beta-reader frannysnow.

-o0o-

Gravity

Chapter 2

Legolas' head shot up as Elrohir's breath hitched. For a horrible second that seemed to stretch into eternity cold dread grasped his heart in an iron grip. Then the younger twin drew a new, shuddering breath.

Elrohir's breathing had been laboured, shallow and interrupted by terrifying coughing fits, as damaged lungs desperately tried to clear blood and liquid to allow them to keep functioning. They were fighting a losing battle.

But, for the moment at least, Elrohir was still drawing breath, still clinging to life, and Legolas would not let that go to waste. With newfound determination he carefully settled the twin off his lap and onto the ground. He racked his brain, furiously trying to remember something, anything, from his recent studies that would help. They had not yet even discussed injuries in any detail, and certainly not something as rare as a damaged lung that resulted from a fall off a cliff.

They had mostly studied herbs.

Herbs! Legolas was thinking, furiously, maybe the answer lay there. But what herbs would help? A tea of the willow bark could fight inflammation and reduce pain, but Legolas had no means to boil water nor, for that matter, knew how to make the injured twin drink a tea while unconscious.

The extract of cloves from the Sea of Rhûn was a local anaesthetic, but without knowing where Elrohir's pain was centred, that would help him little. Legolas sighed in frustration. All those hours of rigorous lessons and still he did not know anything that would help his friend.

He hit the ground in frustration. Was there nothing he could do?

Legolas decided to switch his focus from what he knew would be effective to what he actually had on hand.

It wasn't much.

The small pack of healing supplies that Elrohir had carried had clearly been lost when the cliff had collapsed under him, possibly buried somewhere beneath the rocks, and Legolas' own supplies were much more limited.

With haste born from desperation Legolas tore through the small bag's contents, trying to remember what the little packages inside were and what good they might do. It was a standard healer's kit, like the one Elrond had given him for training on his very first day of teachings. The elf lord had explained that every warrior on patrol carried a pack such as this, containing the most commonly needed herbs and ointments as well as an assortment of clean linen bandages. Knowing what it contained and how to use it was of vital importance and Elrond had stressed that his father would not let him leave on a patrol of the forest unless he learned both.

Behind him Elrohir broke out in another harsh coughing fit and Legolas' hands tightened around the small pack in his hands as he desperately waited for the older elf to stop, to draw another, if shaky, breath.

When he did it was a rough, painful sound that tore at Legolas' heart. He did not even turn around as he realized he could no longer stand the deathly pale look of Elrohir's face, or the steady drip of his blood as it flowed from the cut on his forehead, the colour a stark contrast to the ghostly white of his skin.

For all that he tried to tell himself otherwise, Legolas knew that the younger twin was dying.

Hanging his head in despair at the admission, Legolas fought the tears that threatened to surface again. But what could he do? They were completely alone at the banks of the Bruinen, the rushing water easily drowning out all cries for help that he could have shouted. No one would have heard them anyway. They were a good hour's march from Rivendell, without horses and without back-up.

Despair clung to him like a dark shadow, its smoky tendrils encircling his heart and smothering his hope. There was nothing he could do.

He had no way to get Elrohir back to Rivendell and into Lord Elrond's care. And though he might have been able to run for help, that would mean leaving Elrohir behind and he could not bring himself to do that. His heart trembled at the thought of what he would return to here at the River Path after he had summoned help from Rivendell.

Elrohir drew another shaky breath and Legolas finally looked up and turned back to the twin.

He was still alive.

Elrohir still clung to life and as long as he did, Legolas would not give up hope, could not give up hope. Looking at the small sachet of herbs that he still grasped tightly in his hands, Legolas suddenly recognized the plant.

Athelas.

Hastily he opened the small paper package and let the dried leaves fall into his open palm. As he crushed two of the leaves between his fingers a sweet smell filled the air, like the soft breeze on a spring morning that carried the scent of freshly blooming flowers. Suddenly the light seemed to shine a bit brighter, piercing through the thick layers of clouds. Its rays warmed Legolas' back and for a moment drove out the dark fear that had ensnared his thoughts.

Elrohir's breaths deepened. The horrible rattling sound in his lungs disappeared as the scent of the kingsfoil relaxed strained muscles and soothed the pain. And for the first time since that horrible moment when the ground had given way underneath Elrohir's feet Legolas allowed himself a deep breath as well.

Suddenly Elrohir gasped and knit his eyebrows together as consciousness returned with an onslaught of pain. Legolas was at his side in an instant.

"Elrohir", he said, a note of pleading in his voice. He desperately hoped for the twin to awaken, even though he knew that it was a selfish request. Elrohir would be in pain, pain that he did not have the skill or knowledge to lessen. And yet, Legolas clung to the notion that as long as Elrohir was awake, he would not suddenly stop breathing, if he was awake, Legolas would not feel quite so helpless and alone.

Pain filled grey eyes met his as Elrohir opened his eyes. Legolas gently placed one hand on the twin's shoulder to make sure he wouldn't try to rise, but it was a pointless fear: Elrohir barely had the strength to keep his eyelids open.

"Elrohir", Legolas repeated. He had to suppress the shaking in his voice as he continued, "I, I don't know what to do."

The younger twin closed his eyes and for a frightening moment Legolas thought he would have fallen unconscious again. Then Elrohir reopened his eyes and, to Legolas' surprise, a faint smile touched his bloodied lips.

"Elladan is coming." Elrohir said. It was an assertion; there was no hint of doubt or any sign of desperate hope in his voice.

Elrohir's conviction that his twin would find them was absolute.

Legolas wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He desperately hoped for some kind of miracle, though the rational side of him reminded him that no one would be looking for them for hours to come. And even if they did, no one would find them anytime soon.

He crushed two more leaves of the athelas but this time the sweet fragrance did little to brighten his mood. Desolation settled back over the stony path as he gently lifted Elrohir's head back in his lap, cradling the injured twin tighter.

A look of pain crossed Elrohir's face at the sudden movement and his eyes flickered open again, looking up at the woodelf's face above him. He tried to lift his hand to offer some sort of comfort to the young elf but found he lacked the strength to do so. "Just wait", he said, breathing more heavily again, now that the scent of athelas was fading away, "wait… for Elladan."

Suddenly Legolas wished he would have spent the day in the healing halls training the boring composition of different potions or learning about the poison of various animals in Eriador and Rhovannion. This was a much too practical lesson in healing skills, skills that he did not yet have. He let his head hang in despair again, was all he could do really just wait here for the arrival of Elladan? How would the older twin even know where to look for them, or that his twin needed him at all?

It seemed like a desperate hope to Legolas, but what else did he have? Apart from wishing they never would have left on this outing to begin with.

-o0o-

earlier that day

The twins were hurrying down the stairs that Legolas had rushed down in excitement just a few minutes ago. But there was little of his happy mood in their purpose, already they could hear their father and Glorfindel downstairs, discussing the consequences and implications of an orc force advancing on their borders. As the twins reached the bottom flight of stairs, they could see Erestor hurrying to reach their father's side as well.

"Hir nin", the chief advisor of Rivendell said. "There have been some reports that the River Path may have been blocked by a rockslide last night. It seems the rain of the recent days has weakened the cliff face there."

Elrond looked thoughtful at the news. Rivendell had been built as a haven, a stronghold to defend and protect those that sought aid. And even though the valley was hidden from unfriendly eyes, it was always open to those who came looking for rest and respite. If the River Path was truly blocked they would have to send a group of elves to reopen it.

But with the orcs approaching their home maybe it was a stroke of luck that the most direct route into the Hidden Valley had been obstructed. Could he keep the entrance closed until they had weathered this storm? Or was he dooming innocent people in the surrounding villages to a dreadful fate if he left their possible path to relative safety sealed?

"How bad is it?" he asked.

But Erestor just shook his head. "I cannot say. At the moment it is merely a possibility. Amrathion reported heavy tremors in the region but he could not be certain about their source."

Elrond's eyebrows knit together in thought. With preciously little information it was hard to come to a decision about what needed to be done. And the matter of the orcs pressed on his mind, demanding more immediate attention.

Elrohir's voice broke through his thoughts. "I can scout the cliffs", he said, "and report back with a more accurate estimation of the damage." He turned to Glorfindel, anticipating the other's comments ere the elven lord had a chance to speak. "Elladan can tell you everything about the orc band, I would be of no additional use."

It was true the older twin tended to attend more meetings with Glorfindel to discuss the placement of outposts or the deployment of patrols, while Elrohir saw to the training of the newer recruits. As such Elladan was more familiar with the defensive perimeter of the Hidden Valley anyway.

But Elrond looked thoughtful, his sons had only just returned from their scouting mission, and had not yet slept. The father in him had hoped that they could have delivered their report, expressed their opinion about what course of action to take and would then retire to bed like the elflings they no longer were.

It was a vain hope, of course. Elrond knew that his sons were accomplished warriors, the ranks in Rivendell's forces that Glorfindel had bestowed upon them a result of hard training and determination to protect their home, rather than of their ancestry. And still it was hard sometimes to accept that he could no longer send them to their rooms when danger lurked.

But it was not a long distance to the River Path and there was no indication that any danger would be found there. Just because he would wish for his sons to rest did not mean that they would heed his advice even if he should request it. And it was a logical choice, he had to admit. The part of him that was the lord of Rivendell saw that clearly. And despite the long night the twins had had, Elrohir showed no signs of requiring rest.

And still … a small, unexplainable doubt remained, like a feeling of foreboding telling him that this mission, simple as it seemed, would not end well.

"Maybe you could take Legolas with you." Elladan was saying, interrupting his father's thoughts and stopping Elrond from further analysing the feeling of unease that seemed to accompany any thought of the cliffs of the River Path.

"Yes." Elrond nodded in agreement. The thought of Legolas accompanying his son seemed to ease his worries, though he could not explain why. It also solved the problem of the young elf's teachings that would have needed to be delayed for their meeting. "I will have to cancel his lessons for today in either case. Take him with you to the cliffs. But", he couldn't help but add, "be careful."

Elrohir gave his father a curt nod, acknowledging the request. Then, with a smile for his twin and a short "I will see you later." He turned around and left.

-o0o-

tbc…

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A/N: And finally we are back with Legolas and Elrohir once more, though I guess things do not look too good (sorry!). We also have one more flashback to go until I can finally tell you just how Elrohir ended up at the bottom of that cliff, but that will be in the next chapter - something to look forward to? ;)

Many, many thanks to the wonderful Lady Lindariel, sian22, Pip the Dark Lord of All and Lord Illyren for their reviews for the last chapter. You are the best!
Thanks also to the people who have favourited this story or added it to their story alert lists.

I would love to hear what you thought about the new chapter!