Chapter 2

Author note: Um, hello? –Wanders in and ducks several nasty orcish looking objects – I am so sorry it has been such a long wait for this chapter. Here in Australia it is winter, and ski season, therefore I have been quite busy with that. I hope you enjoy the conclusion of Three Arrows and an Elf!

The healing room was quiet, the only sounds punctuating the midnight hour being the soft breathing of several elvish occupants. Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood, was lying on the lone bed in the middle of the room, pale skin a striking contrast to the brightly coloured duvet that covered him from the waist down. The same material covered the pillow under his head, making his cheeks seem even more sallow than they were in reality. His chest, covered in a white bandage, was moving up and down rhythmically, and he would have looked merely asleep were it not for the light lines of his forehead, indicating that he did not rest easy.

The twin sons of Lord Elrond were sitting in identical plush chairs beside the bed. Elladan's head was hanging over the armrest, long hair brushing the ground. Elrohir was caught in a rather interesting position, lying on his back in the chair, right leg raised up over his head and left leg stuck under the purple cushion. The twins were both fast asleep. Every so often, Elrohir would lift up his arm and set it down again, to the wry amusement of the room's other occupant, their father.

Elrond of Imladris, the only waking person in the room, was sitting beside Legolas and at the current point in time, taking the younger Elf's pulse. Concluding that the prince's condition remained stable, Elrond sat back and sighed, wearily rubbing his eyes. The last six days had been extremely trying for the whole family, and tension was rising, as Legolas had still shown no signs of waking.

Standing up and relinquishing his gentle hold on Legolas's hand, Elrond walked to the window and stared out into the darkness outside his home. The trees rustled reassuringly to him, and gave him heart. As he listened to the voices of the trees, he nearly missed the slight sound coming from behind him.

Hardly daring to believe his ears, he turned around and hurried to the bed. The pain lines on Legolas's forehead had deepened, and he was moving his head to and fro on the pillow. Sitting down on the bed, he took Legolas's hand once more and placed his other hand on the prince's brow. It was warm, but fever had not taken Legolas, much to the relief of the Peredhil family. Squeezing the younger elf's hand, he whispered to Legolas, hoping not to startle the injured elf.

"Tithen pen, it is time to wake up." A slight moan greeted these words, and light blue eyes opened to look into Elrond's grey ones. The prince's eyes were clouded, and it was painfully obvious that the elf was not fully aware of where he was, or what had happened. Gently stroking Legolas's forehead, Elrond smiled down at his young charge. "Tell me how you feel."


"Nay, little one, it is Elrond." The elven lord was heartbroken at the whispered, childlike plea for the comfort only a parent could bring. "I sent a message to your Ada, and he will be here late tomorrow. Will that be all right, Legolas?"

"Aye," he whispered, staring over Elrond's shoulder, until the older elf turned to find his sons standing behind him. He addressed an unspoken request for the two to stay with Legolas while he found something for the pain.

Elrohir took Elrond's place as the older elf went to his herbal cabinet, and claimed possession of his friend's hand. Elladan, meanwhile gently pressed a glass of water to Legolas's lips, and saw a minimal amount run down the other elf's throat. Knowing that was all Legolas could take at the moment, he sat down on Legolas's other side.

Elrohir began to tenderly stroke Legolas's forehead, and he felt the prince begin to relax slightly underneath the touch. When Elrond came back with a warm cup of herbal drink, Legolas was more coherent, enough to be able to speak in short sentences.

"How long?"

"Six days, tithen pen. But you took a grievous wound, and that was to be expected. We are very happy that you are awake now, though. You gave us quite a scare." While he was saying this, Elrond had allowed his herbal concoction to slide down the elf's throat.

"Forgive me," was all Legolas could say as the herbs took hold.

"There is nothing to be forgiven, tithen Legolas."


Elvish translations:

Tithen pen – little one.

Ada – Dad/Daddy.

Tithen Legoals – little Legolas.

A/N – Thanks for sticking with me, and many, many thanks to the people who reviewed. You guys are awesome, and life is just not the same without you! To all the lurkers who didn't leave a review, thanks for reading! Cheers, and take care!