The dark haired elf moved stealthily through the shadowy trees. He was loath to lose the competitive hunt with his brother and friend, but the young elf had not counted on the vagrancies of the Mirkwood forest. Unlike the Silvan and Sindar elves that called the forest their home, the Noldor elf did not instinctively know where every knot, branch, tree and root was located. And so it happened that Elladan tripped over an exposed root, landing hard.

Picking himself up and dusting himself off he noticed his leg stinging a bit. Glancing at it he saw it bleeding slightly as if from a scratch. The older twin rolled his eyes; Elrohir would never let him live this down.

“Oh very graceful, gwanunig nín,” Elrohir piped up, appearing with the cloak shrouded form of their friend hovering nearby. The cloak concealed both Legolas’ blond hair and his features, but Elladan was sure he could see a smile in the depths of the hood.

“Very funny,” Elladan grumbled.

“It is time we returned, anyway,” Legolas commented, not mentioning that the hunt was over in any case because of his clumsiness. “Are you injured?”

Elladan gestured in irritation at the scratch. “Managed to scratch myself on a branch is all.”

Legolas chuckled lightly, garnering a glare from the twin, before gesturing for them to head back to the palace. The three of them looked like unlikely friends and an observer unfamiliar with them might have thought that of the three the prince was the eldest when he was in fact the youngest. Being raised royal, his more reserved nature and the more recent events of the increased attentions of the Shadow on his home made Legolas seem older than many elves, even his own countrymen. But light and hope still made themselves very obvious in his manner, all the more visible when his close friends were visiting, and he could find something to be joyful about in even the darkest situation.

Later that evening Elladan was to find out just how wrong his diagnosis of ‘just a scratch’ was.

---

“Are you ready for dinner?” Elrohir asked, coming into his twin’s room. He frowned when all he saw was Elladan’s clothes laid out ready but couldn’t see his brother anywhere. “El?”

“In here,” Elladan called in a voice that sounded surprisingly...weak.

Elrohir’s frown deepened as he entered the small refreshing room to find Elladan nearly hanging off the door separating it from the bathing chamber.

“El? What is the matter?” Elrohir asked worriedly as he quickly crossed the distance between him and his twin.

“I do not know,” Elladan mumbled.

Elrohir grabbed him as he swayed unsteadily and sat him down on the floor.

“What are your symptoms? Obviously dizzy, what else?” Elrohir pressed, alarmed.

Elladan appeared to attempt to gather his thoughts before abruptly going white and trying desperately to swallow down his rising nausea. Elrohir quickly grabbed the basin used to hold water when someone washed their face, thankfully unused so far, and pushed it into his twin’s hands. But when Elladan finally gave in, nothing would come up, leaving him miserable while his dizziness just increased.

Elrohir’s mind was racing as he tried to ease his twin’s distress. Trained though they were in the treatment of all sorts of poisons and illnesses, the creatures of Mirkwood were becoming ever more toxic and healers outside the forest were having trouble keeping up. Not the least because they never actually saw victims like Mirkwood healers did, and Elrohir was uncertain as to where to start.

“Elladan? Elrohir?” Legolas’ voice came from the room outside.

“Legolas! Get in here!” Elrohir called in relief.

The elven prince nearly didn’t cover the intervening distance as he dashed into the room after hearing the urgency in the younger twin’s voice. He crouched down in front of them wishing he was able to tell them apart.

“What happened?”

“I do not know. Elladan was really dizzy when I got here, he has only deteriorated since.”

Legolas hesitated, his mind racing over what he knew of his home.

“Which of you tripped earlier?” Legolas asked, starting to feel dread about the seemingly innocuous incident.

“Elladan,” Elrohir answered, then looked at Legolas with alarm. “What has that to do with it?”

“Let me see the scratch,” Legolas ordered, ignoring the growing panic in the younger twin’s face.

Elladan gestured shakily at his right ankle and commented weakly, “Slipped my mind to clean it, but it was just a scratch.”

Legolas pushed the leggings up to reveal the scratch and Elrohir handed him a cloth he had wet with the water in the jug from next to where the basin has previously resided. It was obvious that the dried blood obscured details of the wound.

Legolas cleaned it gently; already sure of what he would see from the red lines running up the other elf’s leg. The ‘scratch’ was quickly revealed to be two punctures.

“Snake bite,” Legolas stated softly. The relatively small reptiles were becoming fewer because of the increasing numbers of spiders but, like the rest of Mirkwood’s creatures, were no less deadly. “I take it neither of you saw it?”

Elrohir shook his head while Elladan was too miserable to reply.

“Stay here,” Legolas commanded before disappearing out into the corridor again. Moments later he returned with a couple of guards. “I have sent word to the healing wing to expect us.”

The guards crouched down on either side of the ailing elf and gently lifted him into their arms. Elrohir went to follow them as they carefully carried him out but Legolas held him back.

“What is it?” Elrohir asked, his alarm still clearly evident on his face.

“I probably do not need to tell you; this is bad,” Legolas stated seriously, “It would be serious even if he had gotten immediate attention.” He may not have been trained as a healer, but he knew his home and what her creatures were capable of.

Elrohir nearly crumpled and Legolas shook him slightly.

“He is going to need you if he is to have any chance,” Legolas waited until Elrohir looked up and nodded at him before continuing, “Come, let us go be with him.”

With a deep breath to clear his head Elrohir followed the prince to the healing wing.

---

Elrohir watched the hubbub surrounding his twin as the healers tried to quickly determine the snake that had bit him and the best treatment.

He turned to Legolas after several moments of watching, “Could you get my pack?”

The prince blinked in confusion, “I know you are a powerful healer, Elrohir, but do you know enough of the toxins of Mirkwood to help?”

“For what I intend to do I do not need knowledge of the specific toxin,” Elrohir returned, turning pleading eyes on the blond.

Legolas nodded gently and slipped out to fetch what Elrohir had asked for. By the time he returned the younger twin was by the fire and had acquired a small bowl of water. He rifled through the pack, then brought out a small bundle of Athelas leaves. Selecting a few he crushed them into the bowl of water and heated it. Within moments the fresh clean scent was wafting through the room, drawing a tight smile from one of the healers as it eased the older twin’s distress.

It bought them precious time to find the right treatment and strengthened his will to live.

Slowly but surely Elladan fought his way back from the brink. And just as surely none of the three elves would ever dismiss something as ‘just a scratch’ ever again.