Rating: PG-13 to R (Angst... proceed with caution)

Summary: When Legolas is forced to make a decision that could very
well determine the fate of all Middle Earth, what will he do? And
what consequences will his choice have?

// = elvish translations
# = flashbacks
* = thought

Disclaimer and Acknowledgements: As in Chapter 1

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Chapter 27 - Let There Be Light

Elladan and Elrohir knelt down beside their grief-stricken brother, each resting a supportive hand on his shoulders. Elrond approached from behind and enveloped his sons in his arms. No words could comfort the heart now. Only time could heal the pain.

Aragorn clutched the limp body tightly against his chest, burying his face in Legolas’ soft golden hair and rocking it back and forth slowly. Muffled sound was heard as Aragorn mumbled incoherently between sobs. Suddenly, he stopped and his head snapped up. Bloodshot eyes stared down at Legolas and without warning he pushed the limp body away from him and quickly lay it on the floor.

Shocked by his brother’s action, Elrohir shook Aragorn hard. "What is wrong, Estel?"

"I heard something," the young man explained hurriedly.

Elrond shook his head sadly. "Let it go, my son."

"No!" Aragorn retorted. "I *heard* something!" the young man insisted.

Then they all heard it. A wet gurgling sound coming from Legolas as if he was trying to breath underwater. Elrond sprang onto his feet and was by the elf prince’s side in less than a second. He slid his hand under the elf and pulled him into a seated position. Wrapping his other hand across the elf’s chest to hold him upright, he thumped down hard on Legolas’ back, between his shoulder blades, with the base of his palm. Nothing happened. He hit the prince again. And again.

"Do not give up, my child," Elrond murmured softly behind the lifeless elf while holding him tightly upright. Aragorn watched as a soft glow started to build around his father and that the light slowly expanded to enclose Legolas. The two figures shimmered in the dark room as Elrond directed all his healing energy towards the silvan elf trying to coax life back into the woodland being.

"I know you are there. Hear my voice and return to us, Legolas," the elf lord reverted to the elven tongue. He could sense the internal turmoil in the elf prince, fighting his own battle in another realm. "Come back!" Elrond called urgently. "Do not leave us! It is not your time yet!" The Lord of Imladris shouted forcefully.

*Sweet Elbereth! Do not let him die now!*

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He drifted in absolute darkness, a place of great calm and serenity, a place far away from pain and sufferings. Never did he realise that he was treading dangerously between the realms of the living and the dead. "The choice is yours…" a disembodied voice told him, "the world of pain or a place of peace and eternal rest."

*But it is nice here. Can’t I stay?* he pleaded.

"No," the voice came again, "you must choose."

*Choices, always choices.*

The elf let out a frustrated sigh. He was tired and hated the pain. He wished it never to return and yearned for the long needed peace and rest. But he also felt the urgent call of another in the world of pain. The authoritative voice was commanding him to return. He did not want to… yet deep within his soul he felt that he had unfinished business back in the realm of the living. He remembered his family, his friends, his duties and obligations. He could not bring himself to abandon those… it would not be honourable. Only a coward would run away during difficult times and he was not a coward. He would not run and hide just because he didn’t like how things had turned out. Having made up his mind, he took a deep breath and stepped into the pain.

Without warning, Legolas gagged and choked up a mouthful of blood. A violent shudder ran through the blond elf as he drew a painful breath. Seeing what was happening, Elrohir pulled Aragorn aside to allow their father more space to work. Elladan rushed to fetch the basin and towel from the bathroom. Soon, the water in the basin turned dark red as Legolas coughed up more blood, his body seizing painfully with each breath he took.

After the coughing ceased, the elf lord drew the prince against his chest.

*Thank you Elbereth!*

Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn let out the breaths that they didn’t know they were holding. Dropping to his knees beside his father, the older twin relieved him of the burden and carried the still unconscious prince back to the bed while his brothers helped their father into the large chair next to the fireplace. The elf lord was exhausted, having spent all his strength into calling Legolas back from the brink of death.

"Recovery will be long and difficult for him," Elrond said to his sons, "as the poisons work against each other countering one another’s effect."

Pushing himself up from the chair after recovering some of his strength, the elf lord instructed Elladan to prop Legolas up into a semi-seated position to ease his breathing. The young prince whimpered pathetically when Elladan shifted him on the bed. His breath hitched and he gagged, fresh blood spilled from his parted lips and ran down his chin in rivulets. Aragorn’s heart sank. Legolas may be alive now but how long would he last? Rushing to his friend, he dabbed the blood off Legolas’ lips and chin with the towel as if removing the blood would somehow lessen the prince’s hurt.

Elrohir rested his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder offering his comfort and support. "He is strong. He will make it through."

Aragorn placed his hand on top of his brother’s, returning his kind gesture in silence.

The following days were hard on all of them. The prince drifted in and out of consciousness. Great pain haunted his waking moments and plagued his dreams. He refused to eat for it caused him much discomfort so they had resolved into giving him plenty of fluids instead. The retching continued and more blood was spilled from his pale lips. But thankfully, the symptoms and pain dissipated gradually nearing the end of the eighth day as the two poisons attained equilibrium inside his system and the prince slowly recuperated.

As per Elrond’s orders, Legolas was not to be left alone in case he made a turn for the worse but fortunately, the elf lord’s worries turned out to be redundant. Legolas’ condition seem to be improving each passing day, a slight tinge of pink had begun to creep into his once pale lips. His waking moments also gradually outlasted his dreams and he became more responsive and coherent.

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To Be Concluded...

A/N: Everyone rejoice! Our dear prince lives! Hooray!! No more stalkers threatening to kill me. YAY!! *jumps with joy*