((My first fan-fic! Please R&R! I want to know what you all think!))

The sound of pacing echoed throughout the dark, empty Halls of Mirkwood. The source of the pacing was Legolas.

A very worried expression was etched on his face. At last, a door was opened, drawing Legolas’s attention immediatly. The healer spoke to him softly, telling him what he had been dreading to hear for the past three hours. There was nothing that could be done. The healer put a consolling hand on the Elven Prince’s sholder. Legolas immediatly pulled away and walked into the room that the healer had come from.

It was worse than he had expected. His father lay almost lifeless on the bed. Pain was carved in the Elven King’s fair features. Legolas crouched by his father’s side just as his Father opened his eyes. It was heart wenching for Legolas to meet his Father’s sickened eyes.

“My Son… This is it.”

Legolas swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head.
“No Father! You will get through this! I will get help!”

The King of Mirkwood shook his head.
“You cannot, Legolas. This illness is unknown to the healers. We cannot risk an epidemic.”

“M’Lord, It only strikes elves! Half of Mirkwood is wiped out already. If we don’t do something everyone will die!”

Thranduil was quiet a moment before answering.
“All right, Legolas. But you must not go to Lothlorien or Imladris. We cannot risk getting others ill as well and causing an epidemic.”

Legolas nodded is head in a promise.
“Stay strong, Father. I will bring help for you. And our people.”

Thranduil closed his eyes, sleeping as elves did when in extreme pain. Legolas knew his time was short. He quickly left the room and got ready, packing very few provisions and riding off to the only place he could think of for help.

((There will be a second chapter when I get a certain number of reviews!))

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