Disclaimer: Not mine and no profit being made.

A/N: I know nothing about poisons, or about healing their effects. The poison in this story is my own invention and should not be confused with any real or fictitious poisons. And yes, Lithmor is a rat b*stard.

Thranduil gritted his teeth; it felt as if knives were being driven slowly into his belly and twisted. Through his pain, he managed to keep focused on his son, who looked to be in worse straits than he was. Legolas’ face was set in a grimace of pain, his breathing rapid and shallow. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he stared, wide-eyed into Elessar’s face. Gondor’s king snatched up a large bowl that had held fruit and set it quickly down next to Legolas before turning the prince and holding his head over the bowl. He had no sooner done so than Legolas’ meal made a rapid and violent reappearance. A second large bowl, the basin from Legolas’ wash stand in fact, appeared next to Thranduil’s head, courtesy of Gimli.

“Luinloth, hold Thranduil’s head over the basin,” Elessar instructed. “If he does not regurgitate on his own, make him. It will hopefully limit the amount of poison in his system.”

“I do not know how, my lord,” Luinloth replied, his worry for his king and prince evident in his voice. “Please tell me what I must do.”

“Here,” Elladan said, kneeling by the Elvenking’s head. “Just hold him. I know what must be done.” He forced Thranduil’s teeth apart and suited action to words. A moment later, Thranduil was retching forcefully into the basin.

“Quickly, tell me what they ate that you did not,” Elrohir said to the hobbits, who were standing in a tight knot, watching with fearful and concerned expressions.

“It was the pastry, Elrohir,” Serai replied, her eyes wide with fear. “That one, with the honey and the nuts.”

“Brother, go get the kit from our rooms!” Elladan called to Elrohir, who nodded and sprinted through the balcony doorway. The elder twin looked up at Sam. “Sam, is there any hot water that has not been brewed into tea?”

“Yes, we’ve been keeping a pot of it on the hearth in Legolas’ room, just in case he wants a spot of tea. I’ll go get it.” He gave his wife a quick, reassuring hug before moving rapidly into the main room to fetch the water.

“Thank you, Elladan,” Elessar said quietly. “If this is what I think it is, we will need to dose them both with antidote as quickly as we can.” He took Legolas’ jaw in his hand and shook him gently. “Stay with us, Legolas. You cannot sleep yet.” He looked over at Luinloth, “Do not let Thranduil sleep.”

“I will not,” the raven-haired Sindar replied quietly, his eyes fixed on his king’s face.

Thranduil, still gasping from both the pain in his midsection and from the vomiting, was staring intently at his son. His hand flailed out, seeking Legolas’. Elladan reached over and placed the younger elf’s hand into his father’s. The prince’s head turned fractionally, his eyes seeking his father, who squeezed his hand weakly.

Elrohir remerged onto the balcony at a full run, carrying a cask made of leather. He opened it as soon as he reached the table, taking out a bundle of flasks secured to a long piece of stiffened leather. Selecting one, he placed three drops of the clear liquid inside it onto the pastry. It turned black in seconds.

“Bitter-bloom, no question,” he stated, pulling a bundle of herbs from the cask. He placed them into the hot water to steep for a few minutes. As soon as it had steeped to his satisfaction, he measured out two doses into cups and handed them to Elessar and Luinloth. “Make certain that they drink it all,” he instructed. “Else we shall have to dose them in a most unpleasant and undignified manner.”

“Drink, Legolas,” Elessar said, supporting his friend’s head and neck and holding the cup to his lips. The prince obeyed, gagging as he did. “You must try to keep it down.” Luinloth emptied the contents of the second cup into Thranduil.

“How soon will we know that it is working?” Thranduil’s assistant asked softly.

“We will have to keep dosing them at four hour intervals for the next couple of days. If they survive the next twelve hours, they will recover,” Elessar replied.

“If?” Gimli asked, his tone sharp with concern.

“If,” Gondor’s king replied equally sharply. “Not everyone responds to the antidote, as I am certain the ones who did this know. Let us make them as comfortable as possible.”

~

Elladan emerged from Legolas’ bedchamber, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. He, his twin, Aragorn, Gimli, and Luinloth had finally gotten Legolas and Thranduil dosed again. Both father and son were at least keeping the antidote down, which was a minor miracle although it had been a near thing in Legolas‘ case. The elder twin still was not certain that they would not have to resort to an alternate method of dosing the younger elf before the ordeal was over.

Sighing heavily, he dropped into a rather shabby, but extremely comfortable chair. A half-hearted smile crossed his lips as he caught the faintest whiff of pipeweed coming from the well worn cushions he rested upon. Gimli’s chair, he thought, with weary amusement. Trust Legolas to make certain that the dwarf felt at home, even in the prince’s room. He draped his arm across his eyes, shutting out the room. He had no idea how long he had rested before a faint noise caught his attention. Dropping his arm he peered around the room anxiously, relaxing when he saw Serai lifting the pot of hot water off the fire and replacing it with another pot she had just filled. A few moments later she pressed a mug of tea into his hands.

“Here, you look like you could use this. The hobbits are fixing a meal for everyone. We decided that we’d take care of our own meals from now on, just to be on the safe side.” She dragged a footstool over and lifted his feet onto it, waving away his protests. “Don’t be daft, Elladan. I can’t help in there,” she nodded her head towards the sickroom, “But I can help take care of the healers and that’s just what I’m going to do.”

“You are getting cheeky lately, pen neth,” he replied, sipping the tea. “Must be Elrohir’s bad influence. It suits you.”

“Well, I just want to help. Everyone has been so kind to me that I want to do the same. Besides, it‘s better to be busy than to dwell on petty fears. I‘m tired of jumping at shadows,” she replied, clearing Legolas’ books off the large table and stacking them neatly on a nearby shelf.

“I would hardly call your fears petty, Serai. Your personal demons are far too real,” Elladan returned without thinking, wincing when he realized what he had said. She gave him a look that was similar to one he had seen on a frightened animal before she shook herself and squared her shoulders.

“Well, that answers that question. Rose said you likely knew, and I’ve talked with Sam enough to have a good idea what elves can do.” There was no anger in her tone, but she still looked wary. He sighed and sat up; making certain that he met her eyes, his expression one of gentle concern.

“Elrohir and I were waiting until such time as you decided to confide in us. We ‘saw’ your scars and sensed the child as soon as we touched you.” He kept eye contact with her. “We did tell Elessar because we felt that justice needed to be done for you, but we would never betray your trust by carrying your secret to anyone else.”

“I know that. I trust both of you, Elladan. You know that. I just don’t want everyone to know yet.” She dropped her eyes to her lap. “I can’t hide it much longer, but I’m not ready to tell everyone.”

“I take it that Mistress Rose does know?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” Serai answered softly. “She saw it straight away. She said that she’s borne enough babies to know the look of it on someone else. So does Sam. No one else knows, though.”

“I would not bet on that, little one. My sister knows, I am certain. However, she takes after our father enough to hold her own counsel even from Elrohir and myself to protect your privacy.” Serai grimaced.

“If you knew when you touched me, then King Thranduil and Prince Legolas know too.”

“Oh, I would say that King Thranduil definitely does, but Legolas may not unless he was trying to focus on reading you. His senses are not yet as sharp as they normally are. You need not worry about either of them in any case. They will respect your privacy and I have told you that elves love children. I would not put it past Legolas to want to be an honorary uncle. He certainly is to Sam and Rose’s children. I have lost count of the number of human children he has played uncle to over the years that I have known him, and the number includes Elessar.“ He gave her a half-smile. “And elves do not always have the same talents. Elrohir, Arwen, and I have healer’s senses because of our father, but Legolas and his father have other talents. I could not tell you the extent of Thranduil’s, only that he is very powerful. Legolas has a good deal of power as well, but his humble manner makes it difficult to tell in what ways and to what extent.“

“Oh, “ she replied faintly, clearly surprised by his speech. He decided that she had dwelt on the subject long enough and flashed her a mischievous grin.

“Besides, Brother and I have told you several times that we are not fully elven, so the usual rules do not always apply to us.” She rolled her eyes, earning a full smile from him. She had come a great distance in a short time to be able to behave in so familiar a manner with any male, especially after finding out that he and his twin knew her secret, and he was flattered that it was Elrohir and himself that she was so at ease with.

“How are they?” she asked, glancing toward the bedchamber door. He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“It is too soon to tell, but they are at least keeping the antidote down which is encouraging. I worry less for Thranduil, he is simply too blessed obstinate to allow a mortal to get the better of him. Legolas, however, is another matter. I worry very much for him.”

She had no chance to reply as the hobbits came in then, well laden with food and accompanied by members of the kitchen staff bearing even more. As soon as the food was on the table, Serai filled a plate and handed it to him before taking his mug and refilling it. Sam knocked on the bedchamber door and upon hearing the answer, passed through closing the door behind him. He emerged a few minutes later and began filling plates and setting them on an emptied tray which he then carried back through the door. Elrohir accompanied him when he returned to the sitting room.

The younger twin dropped gracelessly into an unclaimed chair. Serai soon had him settled with a plate of food and a mug of tea, scowling him into obedient consumption of both much to his twin’s amusement.

“You are becoming very cheeky of late, Serai.” Elrohir complained good-naturedly between bites of his meal. “I blame Elladan.” The hobbits were heard to snicker briefly, but the overall mood was somber and they spoke very little beyond what was required by courtesy. At length the twins shared a significant look and rose as one from their seats.

“Dear friends, thank you for your care of us but we must return to our duties,” Elladan said as he and Elrohir both graciously bowed to their companions before sharing yet another look.

“Indeed,” Elrohir agreed, smiling grimly. “We have to persuade a king and a king’s assistant to take some rest.”

“Not to mention a notoriously stubborn dwarf,” Elladan added.

“I prefer to choose my battles wisely, brother-mine,” his twin retorted. “I will be content if we can convince Estel and Luinloth to retire to their rooms and Gimli to a chair in the corner.”

“True,” the elder twin replied. “Estel alone will be a great victory.”

Luinloth twisted the cloth he was using to bathe his king’s fevered brow, wringing the excess water from it, before laying it back on Thranduil’s forehead. Thus far, Legolas’ temperature had not risen significantly but his father’s was rising at a rate that alarmed his assistant. Elessar, who at the moment was curled up in a chair in the corner dozing, was monitoring him closely but said that he thought that it was simply the manner in which Thranduil’s body was fighting off the poison and that unless the fever went dangerously high that they should not interfere. The cool cloths were more for comfort’s sake than to lower the fever. The Elvenking was lucid, when he was awake, although he was still in considerable pain.

Legolas, however, had not regained consciousness since he and his father had been carried into his bedchamber. He had swallowed his dosage of antidote with Elrohir’s patient coaxing and although he gagged he had kept it down. He lay unmoving, silent except for an occasional gasp or moan of pain. Luinloth alternated between the two stricken elves, knowing that his king would want to know how his son fared when he woke.

He had to admit to a growing admiration of the dwarf’s devoted friendship with the prince. Luinloth, as a survivor of Doriath, neither trusted nor much liked dwarves, but he was finding that his prejudices did not hold with this particular dwarf. It was obvious that Lord Gimli loved Legolas like a brother, even caring for him with his own hands, something that Luinloth would never have expected to see. He found himself speaking to the lord of Algarond as he would have an elven lord. The dwarf merely shrugged off the formality, insisting that it was not necessary and bidding Thranduil’s assistant to ‘call him Gimli like everyone else did.’ To his surprise, Luinloth found himself not only doing just that, but conversing pleasantly with Gimli, swapping stories from his long life in return for colorful ones from the dwarf’s.

It was in the aftermath of a particularly amusing, and embarrassing for Legolas had he been awake, story of Gimli’s that Thranduil awoke again. Luinloth was not chuckling, exactly, but his eyes were crinkled with mirth and his face bore a slight smile. His attention immediately turned to his king as soon as he realized that Thranduil was awake, his expression once again becoming one of concern, but his king had seen and gave a pained chuckle.

“He grows on one like fungus on a tree, does he not?” the king asked in the Silvan tongue.

“Indeed,” his assistant agreed, lifting Thranduil’s head and shoulders and holding a cup of water to his lips. “He has a high sense of honor and he is devoted to the prince. I believe he is well named as an elf-friend and I never expected to say that of a dwarf.”

“Nor did I, but I have been forced to re-examine my views on many things of late.” He sighed, his eyelids drooping once more before snapping back open. “Legolas…”

“Is resting and has no fever,” Luinloth answered, wringing the cloth out again and reapplying it to Thranduil’s forehead. “He is also keeping the antidote down. Rest now, my lord.” The Elvenking’s eyes closed once more.

“How is he doing?” Gimli asked from his seat at Legolas’ bedside. “The lad’ll want to know when he wakes.”

“He is lucid, but I worry about his fever.” Luinloth replaced the cloth again. “But, I am no healer, so perhaps I worry unnecessarily. How fares the prince?”

“About the same. Aragorn said that as long as he’s not having trouble breathing and as long as he’s keeping the antidote down all we can do is wait and see. Mahal, but I hate waiting!” The dwarf grimaced and covered his discomfort by fussing with the light blanket covering Legolas.

“Yes, in this case, I do as well.” Luinloth closed his eyes briefly before resuming his task.

~

Lithmor stalked back and forth across the floor of his modest bedchamber. He would not know for a few more hours if his attempt on the elven prince’s life had succeeded. That the elf-king had also ingested the tainted pastry was an unexpected, but welcome, bonus. Still, he knew better than to gloat before he was certain that he had reason to, so he remained in his rooms ostensibly as

frightened of the ‘unknown villains’ as the rest of the populace. As the younger son of a minor nobleman and courtier, it was expected that he should ‘stay out of the way and let the guardsmen do their duty.’

He had hoped to use his contact in the kitchens further, but the dratted Halflings had made that impossible. The scullery maid was dim-witted, if pretty, and her usefulness was limited to begin with. He’d have to dispose of her, too, as soon as he could without arousing even more suspicion. A promised tryst, a quick twist of the neck, and a dark alley in which to dump the body would be all that would be needed.

He glanced at the darkened sky outside and scowled. Just how long did it take to kill an elf anyway?

TBC, because I’m evil. Muwahahahaha!