Healing: Part II
by Narevane
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Almost two hours later, they reached Thranduil’s hall. The king was waiting and took his youngest child into his arms, turning to bear him swiftly to the healer’s hall. Thranduil had eight children, by two wives. His three daughters were all beautiful women, and his sons were strong, tall, and beautiful as only elves can be. Thranduil loved all of his children. But of them all, Legolas was his favorite. He didn’t know why. Perhaps because he was an unexpected child, born almost a thousand years after the last of the others. Perhaps because he almost hadn’t been born, after the hall was attacked by a raiding party of orcs and his mother injured while pregnant with him. Then he’d been born early, and was so small, so absolutely tiny. But he had been so determined to live. Thranduil had brought in many great Elven healers to help his newborn son, and Legolas had lived. Everyone loved him. He was a delightful child, wise beyond his years, but with a most loving heart, and a mischievous streak that had him playing pranks on anyone and everyone. He drank in the lore of the elves with a thirst that seemed without bounds. Everyone predicted he would be a great leader one day. But now, his life was in peril again. Thranduil laid Legolas on the table he was directed to, and stepped back as the healers gathered around. He stood against the wall and watched, fear and helplessness clenching his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and gave a silent moan of his own when Legolas screamed as the arrow was being cut from him, despite the healers efforts to deaden the pain.

Finally, Legolas’ wound was bandaged and he was put into a soft bed. But the healers were worried. They could already see the effects of the poison in Legolas’ system. They would do their best, but they didn’t know what the poison was, they’d never seen it before, and had no idea of the antidote.

"That isn’t good enough!" Thranduil thundered, hands clenching into fists.

Nirme, chief of the healers, sighed. "My lord, we will do our best. You know that. We can promise nothing more. I’m sorry." Thranduil moved to his son’s bedside. Legolas was very pale, and so very still. He was never still.

Without a word, Thranduil turned and left. He began bellowing for his sons, who came. "I want one of you to go to Rivendell, to Lord Elrond. Tell him I will pay any price, but one of my sons is in need of healing, and the healers here cannot help him. Ask him to come. Go!"

The brothers didn’t have to debate. Vandacalimon, who had been youngest until Legolas’ birth, and Erumaro, the second oldest brother and who loved Legolas with all his heart, would stay. Turmanarmo, the eldest, and Seretur, the middle brother, would travel to Rivendell. They left before another hour had passed. As the poison spread through Legolas’ body, his fever slowly climbed. He went from periods of deep unconsciousness to times of thrashing, screaming delirium. Thranduil, who sat with him constantly, didn’t know which was worse. He prayed that help arrived in time.

Turmanarmo and Seretur made it to Rivendell in record time, only five days. They were stumbling with weariness, spattered with mud and covered with dust, their hair tangled and their clothes full of burrs and tears. Their horses were barely able to stand. Yet they asked to see Elrond immediately, and were taken to him.

The brothers told Elrond what had happened. "Please, Lord Elrond. Legolas is…is the heart of our people! They love him! *We* love him! My father will give up his very kingdom, to save him," pleaded Turmanarmo.

Elrond leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. He nodded. "I will come. Glorfindel!"

The chief of Elrond’s guards appeared in the door way. "Yes, my lord?"

"I am going to Mirkwood. We must make all haste. We leave within the hour." He looked at the princes. "I assume you wish to return with us?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Rest until we leave then."

An hour later, they were mounted on swift elven horses and on their way, the princes of Mirkwood, Elrond, and twelve guards of his household. As swiftly as the brothers had arrived, so did they return.


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