Part 10:  Recovery and Revelations

Thranduil took a seat beside the bed and held his son’s limp hand between his two strong ones, silently offering love and strength to aid in his recovery. The Healer stood on the other side of the bed and wiped the beads of sweat from Legolas’s brow as his fever increased and his body shivered uncontrollably. At times he would cry out a warning to an unseen danger, as if believing he was still on patrol, and whenever he tried to sit up in some reflex movement, Thranduil would hold him until he settled, and then gently ease the still form back onto his pillows.

“How much longer will he be subject to these bouts of fever and delirium?”  the King asked as he straightened the bedcovers and resumed his vigil.

“His symptoms are merely the result of the antidote ridding his blood of the poison, and I expect it to run its course by the morning,” replied the Healer calmly as he placed a cool, damp cloth on his patient’s brow.

“Then would you please inform Tariel that I will be taking my evening meal here?” asked Thranduil, his eyes never once leaving his son’s face.

“Legolas is no longer in danger Your Majesty, and since I will be checking on him every hour there is no need for you to stay with him tonight. I think it would serve you well to get some rest,” said the Healer who was also concerned for his King’s well being. He had never seen Thranduil look so weary, and although the cause was sufficient, neither had he seen such fear in his eyes.

“There will be plenty of time for sleep, later. Legolas needs me,” he said, dismissing the advice as he brushed a stray lock of hair from his son’s cheek.

“As you wish.” There was no point arguing with a determined Thranduil, as most of his court well knew.  “Tariel is sending Tathar’s meal to Faelas’s room, so she may as well send one here at the same time,” the Healer informed Thranduil with understanding in his words and a warm smile as he nodded at Thranduil’s questioning look. “Ai, it seems that I am unable to pry either Adar from their sons’ sides tonight.”

Later that evening there was a soft knock on the door, and without taking his eyes from Legolas, Thranduil called for the maid to enter and leave his tray on the small table by the open balcony doors.

“How is he?” Tariel asked in a whisper as she stood beside Thranduil’s chair after setting the table with a light meal. The King, although surprised to see her, acknowledged his dear friend’s presence with a grateful smile, and then turned his attention back to his son.

“The fever is slowly fading, and he seems to be much more settled,” he replied, sounding as relieved as he looked. “How is Faelas?” he asked in return. In truth he had thought little about the child since Legolas was found, but he was nonetheless concerned.

“Sleeping peacefully in Tathar’s arms,” she answered with an affectionate gleam in her eye at the image. Thranduil sighed and managed a genuine smile for a kindred spirit who had also suffered the loss of many dear ones, and did not wish to lose another.

“I would that Legolas was still young enough to allow such comfort from his Adar,” he said wistfully.

“That you are here is enough, now go and eat your meal before it gets cold,” she dared to order the King, lightly kissing his cheek in a very motherly fashion as she sat on the edge of the bed and gently took Legolas’s hand when Thranduil reluctantly relinquished his hold. Thranduil ate hurriedly, becoming increasingly worried as he noticed that Legolas seemed to become more restless, thrashing his head from side to side, moaning as if in pain. The feverish young Elf settled quickly when Thranduil returned to his side, and Tariel merely cast a knowing glance at them both.

“It seems he needs your comforting presence more than you know, perhaps he is not yet too old… ?" she suggested as she collected the tray and left the room.

Thranduil considered her words for a moment, and then decided to act as his heart demanded. He carefully lay on the covers beside his son, and drew him into his strong arms. A single tear trailed down his cheek as Legolas snuggled a little closer and lay his head on his shoulder, and in a brief  but lucid moment, whispered a single word… “Adar…”.

“Now that is a better remedy… for you both, I might add,” commented the Healer, pleased at the sight that greeted him as he returned to check on Legolas. “Nay, stay where you are, Your Majesty,” he said as Thranduil made to rise to allow the examination. “It seems that your ‘medicine’ is working quite well, and although the poison is not yet gone, he is merely sleeping now. I will not disturb you again, for a restful sleep will do neither of you any harm. Should you need me, I will be spending the night in the room across the hallway.”

“Thank you,” said Thranduil as he once more settled himself next to his son.

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As the first rays of morning sunlight filtered into the room, Thranduil was awoken by a touch on his cheek, and the now fully aware eyes of his son focussed on him.

“Can I have some water, Adar?” rasped Legolas as he tried to speak with a dry throat.

“Of course,” replied Thranduil rising quickly to pour a goblet of water. “Do you need help with this?” he asked as Legolas tried vainly to push himself into a sitting position. He merely nodded. Thranduil sat beside his son and placed his arm around his shoulders to support him into a slightly sitting position. Legolas took a few large sips of the refreshing water, then lay wearily back in the bed.

“Thank you, Adar, that was exactly what I needed,” he said, the love and affection in Legolas’s eyes telling Thranduil that it was not for the water, but for his presence by his side during the night as he healed for which his son was grateful.

“You are my son, and all the family I have left in Middle-earth, where else would I be?” asked Thranduil. “Besides, Tariel practically ordered me to stay,” he added, his heart filled with joy to hear Legolas’s soft laughter at the jest.

“Ah, I am glad to see you in such good humour, Legolas,” said the Healer as Thranduil opened the door to allow him to enter.

“I am still feeling very weak and a little light headed,” Legolas told him.

“As it is to be expected when an Elf has not the sense to dodge a poisoned arrow,” admonished the Healer playfully. “I should warn you that you can expect to feel this weakness for several weeks.” Legolas grimaced at that notion.

“I do not have to stay in bed all that time, do I?” he asked, fearing the reply. Being ill was a new experience, but being confined to bed would be torture. Already he longed for the fresh air and the soft voices of the trees.

“Nay, but I doubt you will feel like doing anything but sleep for the next few days,” said the Healer. “Now that you are feeling a little better, I will allow your eager young visitor a few moments.”

The Healer nodded to Thranduil, who stepped outside the room and invited Faelas, Mirieth and Tathar to enter. Rather than run to the bed as he would usually do, the child approached cautiously, obviously having been warned to be mindful of disturbing Legolas’s rest.

“You are awake!” Faelas exclaimed needlessly, eagerly stepping up to the bed and gingerly touching Legolas’s injured shoulder. “Does it hurt much?” he asked.

“Nay, the graze is almost healed, but the effects of the poison still linger,” he answered as he pat the bed in a silent invitation for Faelas to climb up next to him.

“I thought you were going to die, like those horrible orcs,” said the child. Legolas felt the small body shoulder with fear as he placed his uninjured arm about his shoulders.

“I was too afraid to die, for you were right, your Adar would have been most annoyed with me if I had, is that not so?” he asked Tathar who had come to stand by the bed.

“Indeed, I would have,” declared Tathar, the look he favoured his lifelong friend with left Legolas in no doubt as to the pain Tathar would have felt at his loss, as well as the joy and relief that he was safe and well.

“You heard what I said!”  Faelas happily exclaimed. Legolas nodded.

“Ai, but I could not answer. You were very brave to go for help on your own,” he said.

“I was not that brave, and I was not on my own,” the child admitted.

“Then who were you with?” asked Legolas curiously, thinking that perhaps one of the patrols had come to his aid.

“Some men who were hunting the orcs,” replied Faelas. Legolas raised an eyebrow in query, and Tathar explained what had occurred after Legolas had become unconscious.

“As soon as I am well enough, I must visit Gilbard’s village and thank him for his aid,” said Legolas.

“And I will accompany you, for I also have much to thank him for,” said Tathar as he placed a protective hand on Faelas’s small shoulder.

“I think it is time the visit was at an end,” ordered the Healer as Legolas’s eyes started to glaze in slumber. As Tathar and his family reached the door, Mirieth turned back to speak with Legolas.

“Thank you for protecting my son; it was the best conception day gift I have ever received. Sleep well, dear Legolas,” whispered Mirieth. As she bent to kiss his cheek, Legolas tiredly reached up to brush a tear from her eye, his hand falling back to the bed as he fell asleep.

After they had left, the Healer turned to Thranduil.

“I meant it was time for ALL visitors to leave Your Majesty.  Might I suggest you arrange a nice refreshing bath for yourself, and also perhaps for Legolas when he awakes?”  Thranduil glared at the Healer’s impudence but decided to take his advice.

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“So you have finally been declared fully recovered?” asked Tathar as he loosed another arrow at the target Legolas had made to resemble a particularly ugly Orc. It had been three weeks since the attack, and other than a few hours at the practice range, Legolas had been allowed no other strenuous activity.

“Ai, as from today I am allowed to return to my patrol,” Legolas answered, grunting with satisfaction as he scored a direct hit between the eyes of his target. “My patrol will be leaving as soon as you and I return from our trip to Gilbard’s village.” Tathar raised his eyebrows and laughed.

“Is this a royal command, or merely a request?” he teased, knowing full well it was the latter. In all their years of friendship, Legolas had never used his status as the King’s son to his own advantage. Legolas rolled his eyes in disgust.

“I intend to thank the men for their aid. I merely assumed you would wish to do likewise,” he answered.

“Of course I do and I know Faelas has made a gift for Gilbard. When do we leave?”

To Tathar’s surprise they left shortly after the midday meal, travelling swiftly through the treetops so as to reach their destination before nightfall.

“There have been many more reports of bands of orcs travelling through the woods after dark, do you intend to return tonight? ” asked Tathar as they easily followed the path that led to the village.

“Nay, I suspect we will be asked to spend the night with Gilbard and the others,” said Legolas confidently as he waved a greeting to the men who had come to meet them.

“What business brings two Elves this far from the wood?” asked one of the men, eyeing Legolas and Tathar with open suspicion.

“I am Legolas and this is Tathar. We are in search of Gilbard; do you know where he can be found?” Legolas responded exchanging a concerned glance with Tathar as they both wondered why they were not recognised.

“Aye, it has been many a long year since you two last came this way. We will take you to him, he has only just now returned from the hunt,” said another villager who apparently did recognise them.

“The other one must be new to the village,” whispered Tathar in a voice so soft only Legolas could hear.

“Ai, that must be so,” agreed Legolas, looking around at the familiar sight as they entered the village square.

“Legolas! Tathar! You are both most welcome!” declared a man who obviously knew them and was pleased to see them. Their apprehension vanished din the face of the affectionate welcome. This man was not the leader they had met before, and was of an age the Elves could not guess, but seemingly well into adulthood.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, we have come to see Gilbard and his hunters,” explained Legolas.

“I am Gilbard, the leader of both the hunters and the village,” replied the man. “Do you not recognise me?” he asked. Legolas searched his face, trying to recall what suddenly seemed so familiar about him, but it was not until Gilbard sang a few words of the song Legolas had sung to the village children on his last visit that the truth struck home.

“You are the child who asked all those questions about Elves!” he exclaimed, his brow momentarily creasing in a frown of confusion.

“But that was only a few years ago, was it not?” asked Tathar who was as confused as Legolas.

“Perhaps as time passes for Elves, but for us it was now many long years ago,” explained a grey haired old man who had come to greet the guests. “I am the leader you met, and Gilbard is my son, and should have had the manners to offer you refreshments before discussing the reason for your visit,” he said, directing the rebuke at his son.

“I do apologise, shall we go to the tavern? I think most of my hunters are still there, and you did wish to speak to us all,” he suggested to the Elves. Legolas and Tathar were too astounded to speak, for the swift march of mortal years had never been so apparent to them before. They silently followed Gilbard, trying to grasp the fact that the children they had met recently, as far as Elves measured time, were now adults, likely many with children of their own.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked as they took seats around the large table that was almost as long as the tavern.

“I mean no offence, but last time we were here, you had naught but ale,” said Tathar, at last finding his tongue.

“Aye, but King Thranduil sent us a few cases of wine in gratitude for assisting his son and the elf child, Faelas,” explained Gilbard.

“And a very fine drop it is too,” offered Gilbard’s father as he filled goblets for himself and the Elves who accepted the wine graciously.

“Adar did not mention the wine,” Legolas whispered to Tathar.

“I think Thranduil’s thoughts were too heavily occupied elsewhere, it is likely his Steward made the gesture on the King’s behalf,” he replied.

“Tathar and I have come to your village to personally thank Gilbard and the others in his hunting party for their part in my rescue,” said Legolas as he bowed respectfully to Gilbard and his men.

“And I have come to also give my thanks to you all for assisting Faelas, my son. Words can not express my gratitude that he was safely escorted back to my wife and me,” added Tathar also bowing to his son’s rescuers.

“You are both very welcome. We are pleased to see you have recovered, Legolas. For a time I thought that even your Healer would not be able to save you. Your son is a sweet child, Tathar, and very fond of Legolas. He was very courageous and I hope you and your good lady wife how are proud of him,” said Gilbard.

“Indeed we are, and I have a small gift to give you. Faelas made this himself,” Tathar told the man as he handed him a small wooden whistle. “Faelas said to tell you the sound will scare orcs away, but I would not rely solely on this as a defence. It is but a child’s toy,” he warned.

“Tell Faelas he displays much skill with his carving, and that we will cherish his gift. We will also heed your advice,” said Gilbard as he passed the whistle around for his men to admire.

 “Your father offered to exchange information regarding any strange occurrences in this part of the forest. Have you any news to share?” Gilbard asked Legolas.

“I have only just recovered my health, and so have not been on patrol, but those that have been have reported increased orc activity, both in numbers and attacks in the north and the south,” replied Legolas, suddenly shivering as his blood seemed to chill.

“Legolas are you well?” asked Tathar with concern as he noticed his friend turn quite pale. Legolas rested his head in his hands, allowing himself a moment to gather his composure before replying with a voice that could not totally repress his fear.

“The cold darkness of the shadow has returned to Dol Guldur.” His words sent fear through all in the tavern, and as one the men ceased their conversations and turned to stare at the Elf.

“How do you know that?” asked Gilbard, who instinctively knew he could believe Legolas, but asked the question for the benefit of the others.

“I can feel it,” Legolas whispered into the eerie silence.