Legolas let out a long breath. His patrol was at last returning home after a being in duty for almost a month. It was the latest in a series of extended patrols that aimed to seriously cull the ever-growing spider population.
He looked over his warriors as they headed out of the dank region where the spiders dwelled, towards the protected realm of his father. There were thirty in all, some older than he, some younger. All yielded to his command, he was their prince and a warrior of long-proven skill. Each and every one had been handpicked for their courage and skill. Never had they let him down. Thanks to them the patrol had been a success, now perhaps they could all take a much-needed rest.

Legolas smiled at the thought of rest. Rest for him would be a trip to Imladris to visit his lover, Elrohir. He had been with the twin for the past five centuries, only the responsibilities of their various realms preventing them from forming a more permanent bond. He hoped that would one day be overcome, his father had finally come to terms with his relationship with the Peredhel, the son of one whom he had long held a grudge against. Having met Elrohir on more than a few occasions, he had grudgingly admitted that they were a perfect match. Also, so light of heart were the brothers that to dislike them was a difficult thing indeed. Their honest and open nature endeared them to even the most hardened elf.
It had been ten years since he had last seen his lover. Elrohir and Elladan had been in Mirkwood for that year’s summer solstice, staying for two months. Though many messages had been sent by carrier-bird since then, it was cold comfort compared to the feel of Elrohir’s warm arms and gentle caresses. All he needed was his father’s permission, or rather, his king’s leave to go. He was not worried though. He was sure his Ada would not deny him.

His second, Nevalphion caught his dreamy gaze and laughed. It was all too clear what was on the elf-prince’s mind. “You are as bad as a maiden!” He teased the prince. Legolas grinned, ignoring the good-natured barb. His spirits were high, with luck he could be on his way to Imladris by the next morning.
“Ouch!” He jumped suddenly as something nicked him on the neck.
“Are you alright my Lord?” Nevalphion asked with a frown.
“Yes,” Legolas replied, rubbing his neck, “But I think something just bit me!” He was understandably confused. Very few bugs went after the firstborn; they usually had a natural repellent that kept the bloodsuckers away.
“It must have been an agarferedir.” Nevalphion said. “They are rare, but will attack the firstborn. You will have a nice itchy red spot there by tomorrow!”
Legolas groaned. Just what he needed when he was finally going to get to see Elrohir again! He prayed it would be gone by the time he reached Rivendell.

As dusk fell they finally entered the great halls of Thranduil. Legolas went quickly to his rooms, eager to have a hot bath before dinner.
As he relaxed in the hot soapy water, he absently rubbed the sore spot on his neck. It itched already. He wondered if he should visit the healers, perhaps they had something to relieve it. Still he felt loathe troubling them with something so trivial. Shaking his head in disgust at his weakness, he rose intending to get out of the bath and ready for dinner. But as he stood a wave of dizziness hit him. He gasped and fell to his knees in the bath. Water splashed around him and he groped for the side. Wrapping his fingers round the stone edge he tried to regain his equilibrium. He breathed deeply, calming himself. He knew not what had happened, but he knew he had to get out of the bath. Carefully, he eased himself from the sunken tub to the edge. He sat there for a few minutes, his feet still dangling in the water. When he felt stronger he slowly rose and wrapped the towel around his nude form. To his relief, the dizziness seemed to have passed. He went back to his room and dressed for dinner. He was determined that nothing would prevent him from leaving for Imladris the very next morning.

Still, as he dressed he became aware of a growing sense of nausea. He swallowed, not understanding why he was feeling this way. The dizziness returned too, though not as intense. However in his stubborn determination and his desperate desire to see Elrohir, he refused to acknowledge that something was wrong. Pulling on his clothes, he forced himself down the long winding corridors to the dining hall.
He had to stop several times on the way, as inesiness and nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

Finally he reached the hall and gathering his strength, strode in and sat down next to his father. Thranduil smiled indulgently at his son.
“Legolas. It is good to see you home again ion nin.” Legolas grinned.
“It is good to be home Ada.” Legolas replied, though he did not meet his father’s eyes. Thranduil laughed.
“Worry not, my son. I know you plan to leave for Imladris at first light!” Legolas blushed. His father knew him far too well.

A plate of food was placed in front of him. Though the chef had diligently prepared his favourite meal, he found that just looking at it increased his nausea. If he didn’t eat it though, his father might notice that something was wrong. He picked up his fork and stabbed at a small piece of venison. He tried to raise it to his mouth, but dropped it as pins and needles shot down his arms and legs. He could not suppress a small gasp.
“Legolas?” Thranduil looked at his son with concern. “Are you well?”
“Yes.” Legolas lied. The pins and needles were swiftly becoming painful cramps. “I am simply over-tired. I will go to bed and stop by to see you before I leave.” Thranduil was not convinced, but nodded reluctantly.
“Very well. May your sleep be restful.” Legolas nodded curtly and headed as fast as he dared for the door.

Thranduil turned back ts fos food as his son left, but before he had even taken a mouthful, there was a resounding crash. Turning he went pale at the sight that met his eyes. Legolas lay facedown on the floor, unmoving.
“Legolas!” Thranduil was beside his son in an instant, cradling the still form gently in his arms. He turned to the nearest elf. “Alert the healers! Now!” The elf rushed off he khe king stood, still holding Legolas.
Thranduil rushed down the halls as quickly as he dared. He knew not what ailed his son, but he would waste no time pondering.

By the time he reached the healers they were waiting for him and the senior healer was quickly examining the prince.
“Do you know if anything unusual has happened to him recently?” He asked shortly. The king shook his head.
“Nay. I have hardly spoken to him since his return.” The Healer’s face became more concerned. He had seen these symptoms only twice before and he wanted confirmation.
“Is there anyone I can talk to? It is very important.” Thranduil turned to the elf he had sent ahead earlier.
“Find Nevalphion and bring him here with all haste.” He commanded briskly. The younger elf turned on his heel and rushed off as the Healer continued to mix a tea that he hoped would help the ailing prince.

The young elf returned only minutes later accompanied by a worried-looking Nevalphion.
“My Lord?” The younger elf asked, unsure as to why he had been summoned.
“Legolas has just collapsed.” Thranduil said his voice laced with worry. “Tell me, did anything out of the ordinary happen on the patrol? Even the smallest detail could be important.”
Nevalphion paused. “I can think of nothing sire.” He replied. “We fought many spiders, but he was never bitten. We all ate the same food and d the the same water.” He wracked his brains for anything else. “Oh!” He cried suddenly, “There was one thing, on our way back today he was bitten by an agarferedir. But surely that could not be the cause?” He and Thranduil both looked at the healer.
“I’m afraid it is.” The elf said grimly. “Usually the bite only causes mild irritation. However in a few very rare cases the elf in question develops an allergic reaction to the bite. As far as I know, there have been only six recorded cases in history. I had hoped the mark on his neck was from something else.” He fell silent, unable to look at the King.
“Well?” Thranduil prompted. “What is the treatment?” He could not keep the fear out of his voice. The healer took a long breath and when he spoke hisce sce shook.
“My Lord – there is no treatment. In all other cases the elf – they died. I know this because I was in Lorien when the last case was recorded some two thousand years ago. We tried everything, but to no avail. I am truly sorry Sire. All I can do for him now is ease the pain of his passing.”
“No!” Thranduil let out a strangled cry. It could not be, his son dying from a tiny insect bite.
“I am truly sorry.” The healer said again. “I wish I could help him.” Thuil uil forced back his tears.
“How long?” He asked shakily. The healer looked sadly at him.
“Two weeks at the most. It could be less. He is resting now, you can see him.” Thranduil didn’t waste a moment and hurried to his son’s side.

The prince lay on a small bed, his face unnaturally pale. His breathing was shallow and he was unconscious. The King sat beside his son and took the pale hand in his.
“Legolas, ion nin, how can this be? How can the Valar be so cruel?” Then he put his head in his hands and began to cry.

Sometime later he found the strength to get to his feet and scooped his son into his arms.
“My Lord?” Questioned the healer worriedly. Thranduil forced himself to sound composed.
“If my son is to die, then he will do so in the comfort of his own chambers, not in a cold bed that is not his.” With that he swept out towards Legolas’ rooms.

The King sat for hours by his son’s side. It was so unfair, how could such a small thing take his warrior son? His son, who only a little while ago had been so excited about going to Rivendell.
Thranduil sucked in a sharp breath.
Rivendell.
Elrohir.
Oh Elbereth. What was he going to tell his son’s lover? The two were deeply in love, long years apart only strengthening their feelings. It was true he had come to like the younger twin very much and had looked forward to the joining of their families. A joining that would now never happen because of this cruel twist of fate. Still, he could not keep this from the young Lord. His son’s lover at least deserved the chance to say goodbye.

He made his way to Legolas’ desk and began to write the hardest letter he’d ever had to compose.

******************************

“You wanted me Ada?” Elrohir smiled as he entered his father’s study. Elrond smiled back at his son.
“You have a letter Elrohir – from Greenwood.” The younger twin’s eyes lit up. Elrond grinned and handed his son the document.
“Thank you Ada!” He cried and raced out of the room, to read the letter in the privacy of his chambers.

Settling himself on the bed he unrolled the parchment. But the letter he held was not from Legolas, it was from his father.

//Dear Elrohir,

It is with a heavy heart that I write. A great tragedy has befallen us. Returning from patrol earlier today, Legolas was bitten by one of the rare agarferedir bugs. It should have caused no more than mild irritation, but to our horror he developed an allergic reaction to the insect bite.

We tried everything, but there is no cure for this as it is so very rare. Elrohir, it saddens me more than I can say to inform you that my son has but two weeks to live, if that.
I pray you make it to Greenwood in time; I know he would want you by his side when the end comes. You have become dear to my son these past five centuries and I want you to know that you will always have a place in Greenwood and that in us, Legolas will live on.

Sincerely,
Thranduil//

All colour drained from Elrohir’s face. Icy fear gripped his heart. Legolas – dying? It couldn’t be it just couldn’t be! He read the letter over and over, not wanting to believe it, but eventually the awful truth set in and he began to cry.

Then he was on his feet, racing to his Ada’s study, the letter clutched tightly in his hand.

Elrond looked up from talking to Glorfindel as Elrohir barged into his room. He went to reprimand his youngest son but stopped when he saw the utter anguish of Elrohir’s face. “What is wrong my son?” He asked with deep concern, wrapping a comforting arm around Elrohir’s shoulders.
The twin didn’t speak, just handed his father the letter. Elrond took it, pulling away from his son to read it.
When he had done so he turned to Glorfindel. “Find Elladan, now.” Glorfindel didn’t know what was going on, but it was obvious that something was very wrong. He nodded sharply and left to find the elder twin.

Left alone with his son, Elrond enfolded Elrohir in a comforting embrace. “Oh my son.” He whispered. “I am so very, very sorry.” Elrohir looked up at him with tear filled eyes.
“Is there really no cure?” He asked. Elrond shook his head.
“I’m afraid not. The reaction is so rare there has been little chance for research. None of the treatments tried have ever worked. I wish I could spare you this pain, but I cannot.”
Elrohir began to tremble as shock took hold. Elrond quickly sat him down and pulled his cloak from its hook, wrapping the warm garment around the trembling elf.

Glorfindel and Elladan entered the room then, Elladan going immediately to his twin’s side and wrapping his arms around him. He was scared; there were very few things that could make his brother cry.
In a quiet voice Elrond told Glorfindel and Elladan what had occurred. Glorfindel gasped in abject horror and Elladan pulled Elrohir closer and held him tight.

“What now?” Elladan asked softly when he finally found the strength to speak again. Legolas was his friend as well as Elrohir’s lover; it was terrible to think of loosing him.
“I must go to Greenwood.” Elrohir whispered. “I must see him.”
“Of course, gwador.” Elladan said. “But you will not go alone, I will accompany you.” He tried to ignore the terrible fear that Legolas’ death would cause Elrohir to fade. He’d deal with that when the time came.
“I will go too.” Elrond said. “Glorfindel, you and Erestor will be in charge until my return. The seneschal nodded and they went to prepare for the journey to Greenwood.

An hour later they rode out the gate the the Last Homely House, heading towards Greenwood where the prince of the woodland realm lay dying.

END CHAPTER 1

Agarferedir – Literally, bloodhunter. It has no basis in Tolkien, we made it up!