Author's Note: You can learn more about Legolas' ailment as it is revealed in this chapter by searching Google for information on concussions, traumatic brain injury, and absence seizures. However, brain injury looks very different for each person, so information is wide-ranging; some of the case studies on falls from height are very interesting.

I apologize ahead of time for the shortness of chapters 7, 8, and 9!

To Rekindle Hearts

Chapter Eight: Trauma Manifested

A guard opened the door and Mithrandir swept in, not entirely surprised to see the Elvenking knelt on the floor before his son, whose head dropped slightly from the defiant position in which he usually held it, Thranduil's hands on his shoulders and shaking him.

Thranduil looked at the wizard as he came to them. "Healer Anaron, please find Healer Anaron."

Mithrandir knelt gently by Thranduil and put a hand on his shoulder, imploring the king look him in the eyes.

"You must not jar him, Thranduil," said Mithrandir.

When Thranduil turned his head to look at the wizard, he let his hands fall from Legolas' shoulders, and it hurt Mithrandir to see the worry in the Elvenking's light eyes.

"He does not need a healer urgently, but he will need one to recover over time. It is true that the young ones suffered a fall, and Legolas fell backward and struck his head when he fell, very luckily, Ithildim tells me, on already well-saturated earth," said Mithrandir. "Ithildim reported that when he first found Legolas in the ravine he looked much as he does now, but then was fine for several hours more. But later, Legolas had many of these spells on our journey home, and they come on suddenly and without warning."

Lostariel had slipped into the room and stood now behind Mithrandir and Thranduil, hands clasped before her and eyes bowed.

"I have seen this before in those who have suffered trauma to the head, Thranduil, and it usually diminishes in time," Mithrandir said. "It is a type of seizure; I am sure you are familiar with it."

Thranduil sighed, looking at his son's vacant gaze. He was familiar.

Lostariel's brow was creased as she regarded the ground, and she looked almost uncomfortable.

"My king," said Lostariel. "Even after his arm heals, Legolas cannot go into the field like this, unpredictable as such a condition is. He will be a yoke to himself and those he leads, and I cannot allow it."

Thranduil dropped his head to his chest, placed his hands on his son's knees, and sighed. "I know," said the king, "but he will not be pleased."

Mithrandir gently pushed Thranduil aside and knelt in front of Legolas. Mithrandir took Legolas' grasping left hand into one of his own, and raised a hand to Legolas' forehead. Legolas' hand pulled rhythmically at the woolen sleeve of Mithrandir's robes. Mithrandir closed his eyes and murmured some words under his breath, and after several seconds Legolas' hand quit with twisting at the wizard's wrist, and his eyes came back fully into focus.

The first thing Legolas noticed was a drop of water still clinging to an unruly hair in the Istar's eyebrows.

"You will tell him," said Thranduil to Lostariel behind Mithrandir, and she frowned, but understood.

Legolas took a deep breath, and looked into Mithrandir's face, and then shifted to look behind him, finding the faces of Thranduil and Lostariel, who now stood side by side, watching Legolas.

"What did I do?" Legolas asked, tilting his head to the side, questioningly.

Mithrandir huffed and pulled at Legolas' belt, tugging so that it rotated around his hips. He pulled open the leather pouch now on the front of Legolas' body, and selected several leaves and a sliver of valerian root, and pressed them into Legolas' hand.

"Again?" Legolas asked, frowning.

Mithrandir nodded and tapped Legolas' palm. Legolas scowled and put the herbs in his mouth, chewing the juices from them and tucking what remained into his cheek with his tongue.

"I do not have the time for this," he murmured darkly.

"Guard!" Mithrandir called, and Legolas jumped, almost aspirating the leaves in his surprise.

The guard entered.

"Have chamomile and lemon balm tea sent to this room immediately," said Mithrandir, and the guard nodded and left.

Legolas scooted in his chair so that he could see Thranduil's face without peering around Mithrandir. "I am sorry, father," he said.

Thranduil's nostrils flared. "You should be sorry, but not for that for which you are apologizing. It is not necessary to apologize for injury or illness, but sometimes one has to apologize for the decisions one makes that lead to that injury. You cannot escape your duties or the darkness, Legolas. You are a prince of Mirkwood and a captain in the King's army, so you must quit trying to."

Legolas nodded and stood from his seat, and Mithrandir moved away from him as he did so. "You are right, King Thranduil. I will recommit to my duties." He bowed.

"Good," said Thranduil.

But now Lostariel stepped forward. "First, though, you are on a leave of absence."

Legolas jumped and took a step toward Lostariel. She shook her head.

"Not because of your decision to go with Mithrandir, or what happened while you were with him, but because you are, right now, a liability in the field. Your lapses in consciousness cannot be predicted. But we will use you here in the Halls; you will join the defense council for a time, and help train the newest recruits; you are far more patient with children than most of their tutors," Lostariel said. "You will continue to write your patrol's reports—Ithildim's Sindarin is hopeless and his script illegible. Ithildim will report to you when your unit is home, and you will work together to create an accurate account."

Legolas clasped his hands in front of him at the wrists, dropped his eyes, and nodded.

"I understand, Commander Lostariel," said Legolas. "You should know that this is not what I intended. Ithildim shall boot me into the Enchanted River when he hears."

"I know it is not what you intended," said Lostariel abruptly.

Thranduil turned away from his son and pulled Mithrandir with him to the far end of the room to allow the warriors privacy.

"But it is what happened," Lostariel continued gently. "You are still young and sometimes still very rash." She smiled at him. "But I would be more worried about Lieutenant Amonhir than Ithildim."

At this point, Lostariel put her hands on Legolas' shoulders and looked him fully in the face, and winked. Legolas blinked several times and then swayed slightly like a lithe tree in the wind; there was a moment of silence in which he shook his head almost unnoticeably, and blinked again, looking into Lostariel's eyes.

"Pardon," Legolas said, running two long fingers across his eyebrows and then down the back of his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What were you saying? After the bit about me being rash?'

Lostariel did not take her hands off his shoulders at first, confirming he was steady before releasing her hold.

"I said you are still young and rash, and that you should be more worried about Lieutenant Amonhir's reaction to your absence from the field than your captain's," said Lostariel.

Legolas swallowed the now pulpy and fibrous leaves still in his mouth and then laughed lightly, finally smiling for the first time since he walked back into the Elvenking's halls.

"Oh! Do not worry about that," Legolas exclaimed. "I am!"

Lostariel turned to see one of the kitchen staff walking toward them, doors held open by a guard. It was Ithildim's mother, Orodiel, a baker. She handed the tea to Lostariel, who pressed Legolas back into the chair from which he had risen, and placed the tea in Legolas' hands.

"Drink," Lostariel said. "And then you go to the healing wards."

"Yes, Commander," Legolas replied, leaning back into the chair and slumping in its seat, finally looking worn and exhausted.

"Orodiel, is Anaron yet in the healing wards?" Lostariel asked.

Anaron was Orodiel's husband, and one of the best healers in Mirkwood; he took a particular interest in members of the King's Army.

"Yes, he is there now with Ithildim and some from the Western patrol," said Orodiel.

"Excellent," said Lostariel, nodding deeply to her. "Thank you for your assistance. You can return to your duties in the bakery."

Legolas waved to Orodiel from behind Lostariel, and she smiled fondly at Legolas and nodded her acknowledgement, before turning around and heading out of the room and back to the kitchens, her thoughts on her foolish and brave son and his equally foolish and brave friend.

Legolas sat the cup down on the table a little heavier than he intended. It sounded a loud clunk, and at the noise both Mithrandir and Thranduil turned back toward them.

"Well?" said Thranduil, looking at Legolas evenly.

Legolas stared at his father blankly.

Thranduil smiled. "Aren't you to go to the healing ward when you are finished with the tea? Commander's orders."

"Oh," said Legolas, standing.

Thranduil laughed very softly. "Go now, Legolas; you will be well soon."

"Yes, sir," said Legolas, and he bowed and was past his mentors and out of the room in a blur of muddy green and amber, whisking away down the halls like a leaf on the wind.