How did I know? It was his hands.
Soft and sure, so exquisitely gentle even as they without ceremony administered the antidote as one would a gwinig. I should have been embarrassed perhaps..sensitive to a foreign touch but I was not. Pain was a white hot brand and all was dark and in the darkness the only light was the soothing of that touch.
I was dying.
I knew it even as the first of the seizures took hold: I lying, still and silent in my prince's arms. Each pound of hoof on turf was white hot agony. My heart cried out in anguish. We had waded through so much blood, so many battles, that to fall now to a haphazard skirmish in Morgul duin: it seemed cruel. I had stayed. Though Amron had fallen, I had stayed. For my brother-in-law and for my father-King, for the people I considered my own though I was not one of them, Noldo as I am.
Now, prisoner of a failing body, my sight dimmed. The pain lanced each time a seizure gripped. In time there was no sound, no sight. Legolas' anxious voice had been before, pleading with me to stay. Now there was only darkness and that touch.
Perhaps I screamed. I must have when the wound was cleaned: the sticky ichor of the poison dragged out and a salve without ceremony shoved into the wound.
But again there came that touch. A fea so beautiful, so gentle and golden it was a treasure. How sad to know it here when all was darkening. Millenia I had been alone, my mate lost and never expecting to know that joy again, or desire or true touch.
Perhaps at the end this was a boon. I would know such beauty all too briefly before I walked Namo's halls.
At last the hazy pain took me down.