Healer's Dilemma
Disclaimer: All references to Lord of the Rings belongs to the amazing author J.R.R. Tolkien. The song "Healer's Dilemma" belongs to Mercedes Lackey, I guess. I own nothing, and am making no profit from this story, I do it for fun!
Summary: As Elrond trains Estel in the healing arts, Estel must learn a hard lesson that Elrond cannot teach.
Main Characters: Elrond, Estel, Brethil (Original character)
Rating: PG (to be on the safe side) for some emotional angst
Timeline: During the time when Aragorn was living in Rivendell. Aragorn is 20.
"Estel? It is time for your lessons." The calm, soothing voice came from the doorway to the human's room.
A young man of twenty years looked up from the book he was reading on the balcony. His silver eyes were bright as he regarded the elf that had raised him, ever since his mother died bringing him here.
"Yes Ada {Father}." Estel said as he stood and entered his bedroom, placing his book on the bed, before following the tall, graceful form of the elf lord out of the room and towards the healing chambers.
Elrond smiled as he considered the man that had become a son to him. Estel had become so precious to him, and Elrond knew that the time was coming when he would have to allow the young man to leave the shelter of Rivendell, to start walking the path that his fate had carved out for him. At twenty years of age, Estel would be leaving to join the Dúnedain rangers of the north, taking his place as their chieftain, as was his birthright, for he was in truth Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the heir of Isildur. Elrond had recently revealed this carefully guarded secret to the young man, who had been shocked, but took the news remarkably well.
The lessons in the healing arts went well. Estel was a quick learner, and an attentive student. Elrond had been training him for this ever since he was ten years of age, teaching him everything that he knew about wounds and sickness, poison and herbal remedies, and Estel had absorbed the lessons well, to the point that he often helped his father in the healing chambers when it was necessary.
Father and son left the chambers and walked down to dinner together. Estel glanced up at the elf lord. The rangers were arriving at the end of the week to take Estel out on his first foray with them, and to say the young man was excited was a severe understatement. Elrond had been completely supportive, and was sending his son off with his blessings.
"Ada?"
Elrond turned to look at his son. "Yes Estel?" He smiled, noting, not for the first time, the uncanny resemblance that the young human had to his own sons. The human's piercing silver eyes sparkled, and the light coming in through the wide windows highlighted his dark hair.
A child, the child of my heart
Though never of my name
Who shares my gift, whose eyes though young
Are mine the very same
"Thank you." the young man replied.
"For what, Estel?" Elrond asked softly.
Aragorn smiled. "For everything. For taking me in, and raising me, for letting me leave with the rangers in a few days, for teaching me...you've been so good to me, and you really didn't have to do any of those things."
Elrond smiled as well. "I did it because I love you, ion nin {my son}. I knew the moment that I first laid eyes on you, resting in your mother's arms, that you would become one of the most important people in my life. How could I not do all those things for someone so dear to my heart?"
Who shares my every thought
Whose skillful hands I taught so well,
Aragorn smiled, and stopped, embracing the elf warmly. Elrond returned the hug immediately, before dropping a kiss onto the unruly locks of hair that crowned the human's head.
"Never forget that I love you, Estel, and that I will always be here for you if you need help or advice."
"I promise, Ada. I'll remember."
Three months later...
The night was quiet, and the stars shone overhead, but in the far off distance, dark rain clouds were rolling in. Distant flashes of lightning signaled the approach of a strong storm that would be upon them by morning.
Suddenly, the quiet of the night was broken by the sounds of pounding hooves and the snorting breath of a horse running as fast as possible, weaving skillfully through the thick forest towards the hidden valley that sheltered the refuge of Rivendell.
Aragorn urged his horse on, one hand gripping the reins and a handful of the stallion's dark brown mane, while his other arm was wrapped firmly around the waist of another person seated in front of him on the chestnut stallion. They had been riding all day, since dawn, and yet, Aragorn pushed aside his weariness, concentrating only on reaching Rivendell as soon as possible.
The person seated in front of him was another Ranger, a woman in her forties, and one of the few that traveled with the rangers on a regular basis. Her name was Brethil, and in the three months that Aragorn had been with the rangers, she had been a mentor to the young ranger, and in many ways like a mother. The day before, their party had been set upon by a large group of Orcs and Wargs, and though the evil beasts had been driven off, the rangers had not escaped unscathed. Most of the wounds the rangers suffered from had been minor, easily treated by the skills that Aragorn had learned under Elrond's tutelage.
Brethil, however, had not fared so well. The Orcs had singled her out, out of all the rangers, simply because she was a woman. She had suffered several broken ribs, a broken arm, and a deep dagger wound that Aragorn feared had been poisoned. He had treated her for the poison, but there had been no noticeable improvement, in fact that other ranger's condition had deteriorated in the night, so at first light, Aragorn had saddled the fastest horse in the group and set out for Rivendell, determined to get the woman the aid that she desperately needed.
Lights ahead signaled the main gates of Elrond's home. Aragorn leaned forward slightly and whispered encouragement to the tired horse, who responded to the man's soft voice by lengthening his stride further and putting on one last burst of speed. Brethil had been unconscious throughout the whole ride, and Aragorn feared that she was losing her battle against the poison. Ada will be able to help her, he told himself firmly, putting aside all thoughts of losing the other ranger. Ada can save anyone, he's the best healer in Middle-Earth!
The horse pounded into the courtyard and came to a stop, trembling with fatigue, his proud head dropping wearily to the ground as Aragorn dismounted. Servants making the last round of the stables for the night had heard the approaching horse and now hurried out to meet the new arrival.
"Take him inside and rub him down, then give him a hot mash." Aragorn requested quietly as he lifted Brethil into his arms, hurrying up the stairs to the front door as the elves led the exhausted horse away. Shifting his grasp on Brethil, Aragorn reached up and pounded on the door.
There were a few moments of silence, before the ranger heard the bolt on the door being opened, and then the massive oak doors swung inward, revealing a familiar, beloved face.
Elrond had been heading towards his own bed for the night, extinguishing candles and lanterns as he went, when he heard a loud, frantic pounding on the front door. Wondering who had come so late, the elf lord moved towards the large doors, and unlocked them, pulling them open.
He blinked in surprise to see his youngest son standing on the step, cradling the form of an older woman in his arms. For a brief instant, Elrond was reminded of the night when his twin sons had brought Gilraen, Aragorn's birth mother, to Rivendell, dying of her wounds.
"Estel? What is it?" Elrond asked, standing aside so that his son could enter the house. Aragorn stepped inside, and immediately headed towards the healing chambers, leaving Elrond to quickly close and lock the door, before following after the ranger.
"There was an attack on my group yesterday, Ada. We were beset by Orcs and Wargs, and most escaped unscathed, but Brethil wasn't so lucky. The Orcs targeted her because she was the only woman among us. She has broken bones, and I fear a poisoned dagger wound. I treated it the way you showed me, but she continued to deteriorate during the night."
Elrond opened the door to the healing chambers and began lighting lamps around the room as Aragorn gently laid the woman on a bed. Moving quickly, Elrond began examining the wound that Aragorn showed him. It was indeed poisoned, and Elrond began questioning his son, asking him what poisons the man had treated her for, trying to rule out some of the numerous possibilities.
Gathering some herbs together, Elrond set to work, cleaning the wound and administering the herbs. However, he quickly realized that he was fighting a losing battle. This was a poison that was new to him, for it wasn't responding to any of the herbs. The elf looked up at his son, seeing the younger man sitting next to the bed, holding the other ranger's hand tenderly.
"Ada? Can you help her?" Estel asked, looking up and meeting his father's calm gaze, but seeing the flicker of sorrow in the silver depths, and feeling a chill of apprehension run down his spine.
Elrond slowly shook his head. "I'm afraid that I can't Estel. This poison is new to me, and without a sample of it, I have no way to create an antidote. It isn't responding to the herbs that treat most poisons, and without knowing what this poison is, I don't dare try to give her one of the more specialized antidotes, for fear that it would react badly with the poison already in her system."
Estel paled. "She's...going to die, Ada?" The younger man looked crushed, and Elrond suddenly realized with a start that this would be the first person that Estel had ever lost as a healer, and for it to be someone who was obviously close to him...the pain and sorrow would be even more intense.
Now hear the hardest lesson
I shall ever have to tell.
Elrond hated to do this to his son, but he had to tell him the truth. "Yes Estel. I can do nothing for her." This was the hardest lesson that a healer had to learn, but it was one that all healers learned sooner or later. Sometimes, despite all the effort, you couldn't save a patient, and the pain never faded, no matter how many times someone died under your hand.
Young healer, I have taught you all
I know of wounds and pain
Of illnesses and all the herbs of blessing and of bane
Elrond sighed. Aragorn had learned everything about healing, and had learned it so quickly and thoroughly that Elrond had been both surprised and extremely pleased. The knowledge would stand his son in good stead later in his life, for it was said that the 'hands of the King are the hands of a healer', which was one reason why Elrond had instructed the young human so thoroughly starting at such a young age. No one knew when Aragorn's time to claim the throne that was his by birth would come, and Elrond wanted to make sure that his son was ready when that time came...and this lesson was the last one that the man would have to learn.
Of all the usage of your gift; all that I could impart
And how you learned, young healer, brought rejoicing to my heart.
Aragorn shook his head violently. He couldn't be hearing this...Brethil couldn't die! She was one of the rangers that he was closest to, willing to help him whenever he had questions, always there with a word of advice when he needed to hear it...there was a roaring in his ears, and he stood quickly, knocking his chair over backwards.
Elrond watched quietly as his son stumbled over to the wall, resting his forehead against it. He shook his head sadly. The loss of your first patient was one that you never forgot. Elrond still remembered the first person that had died as he fought to save him. It had been a young elf that had been badly wounded in Beleriand during the war against Morgoth in the Second Age.
But there is one lessoning that I cannot give to you
For you must find your own way there-
judge what is sound and true
This lesson is the cruelest ever healer had to teach
It is-what you must do when there are those you cannot reach.
Elrond moved quietly over to his son. The young man looked like he was about to be violently ill, so Elrond carefully began to rub the ranger's back. "I know it hurts, Estel. I still remember the first patient that ever died while under my care...it is a pain that never goes away, but you must face the truth, that sometimes, despite all that you do, the Valar have other plans and you cannot save them all."
However great your gift, there will be times when you will fail
There will be those you cannot help, your skill cannot prevail.
When you fight Death and lose to Him, or what may yet be worse...
You win-to find the wreck He left regards you with a curse.
"The pain is great, Estel, and it is even worse when it is a friend or a member of your family that you cannot save. There will be times when you cannot save them...but even worse, there will be times when you may have to end their suffering, to bring them the peace that a slow, painful death cannot bring. You must learn what you can do, and learn what results will enable you to live with your actions. Sometimes, there is nothing you can do...what will you do then?"
And worse of all, and harder still, the times when it's a friend
Who looks to you to bring him peace, and make his torment end-
What will you do, young healer, when there's nothing you can do?
I can give only counsel, the rest is up to you.
Aragorn breathed deeply, trying to contain the flood of nausea that was washing through him. "But why is it so, Ada? What's the point of being a healer, if we cannot save those we love?"
Elrond shook his head. "I do not know, ion nin. But you must face that fact, and you must do whatever you can to accept it. Closing yourself off and refusing to help...that doesn't do anything, and will only hurt you, for the pain will eat at you constantly. I cannot tell you what you must do Estel. All healers come to this point, and you must decide what is best for you, I can only offer advice."
This only will I counsel you; that if you build a shell
Of armor close about you, then you close yourself in Hell.
And if your heart should harden, your gift will fade and die
And all that you have lived and learned will then become a lie.
Aragorn turned back to look at Brethil, lying still and pale on the bed. "Ada...I don't know what to do." He looked at the elf lord, his silver eyes seeking an answer from the elf that had raised him. "What did you do when you faced this pain?"
Elrond sighed, thinking back to all the patients that he had lost in his long years as a healer. "I never stopped offering my gift to others, firstly. Saving the ones that you can is often a balm for the heart over the wounds left by the ones that you cannot save. Sometimes, I've been forced to lie to the loved ones of the people I couldn't save, telling them that the one they loved didn't suffer, even if they did. Sometimes bringing peace to the living is all you can do, and you must decide what to do in each situation."
As you must, I have faced the fear, the pain in dying eyes
Sometimes I have told the truth, and sometimes gentle lies
"Estel, with every patient that I have lost, I have asked myself if this is really how I wish to use my gift, for at those times it often seems to be more of a curse than anything. And each and every time I have come to the same conclusion."
As you will, I have faced the times my skill brings no redress
And wondered if my gift was truly meant to curse or bless
"What did you discover Ada?" Estel asked, his eyes hopeful as he looked from Brethil to his father and back again. He still had no notion of what he needed to do, what this lesson was that Elrond was trying to explain to him.
"It is worth it, Estel. You are doing one of the noblest things that the Valar permit...you are saving a life, for each life is precious. While the gift of healing can bring pain, it also brings relief...and life. What is there that is more rewarding than that?" Elrond asked softly, staring into his son's eyes, trying to help him see the truth that Elrond was expressing.
Aragorn looked from his father to Brethil, lying pale and still on the large bed. He still looked uncertain, and Elrond gently laid his hands on the ranger's shoulders. "Estel, I have discovered this for myself...in time, you will discover it too, and when you have found the answer that you seek, you will be a true healer. This is the final lesson, the final test for those who seek the path of healing.
My child, your healing hands are guided by your healing heart
And that is all the wisdom all my learning can impart
There was a weak moan from the direction of the bed, and both healers turned to the bed. Brethil was stirring uncomfortably, and Aragorn left his father and went to her side, clasping her chilled hand in his own warm hand. His touch seemed to draw her from her unconsciousness, for she opened her eyes and looked up at the younger ranger.
Elrond stood off to the side, letting Estel handle this, and giving him a small amount of privacy to say good-bye to a dear friend. He watched silently, waiting to see what Estel would do, what his heart would tell him to do.
"Brethil..." the boy, no the young man, began. He stopped, unable to force the words past the lump in his throat. He raised his free hand and swiped at tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
"Estel...don't cry." she breathed softly. "I know I am dying, I knew it last night. I don't hold you to blame, so do not blame yourself. The Valar have decreed this to be my fate, and I accept it." Brethil warm brown eyes locked and held the glistening silver ones of Aragorn.
Aragorn sniffed and tried to speak again. "I am sorry, Brethil. You've been so dear to me; you've always been there when I needed you. But now, when you need me, I can't help you."
Brethil smiled. "I didn't expect you to be able to, Estel. It was my privilege to be able to help you along the path to your destiny, and even though my time was short, I hope that you will find it worthy."
Aragorn nodded. "I did, I still do, and I always will. You've been a great friend, but it seems that we must part."
"Death is a part of life, young one. Do not regret what must be." Brethil whispered. "Stay strong Estel...we will meet again, someday..."
Aragorn bowed his head as Brethil's eyes slipped closed and her hand went limp in his grasp as she finally succumbed to the poison that had been eating away her life.
Elrond nodded softly to himself. Estel was hurting, but time would dull the pain. He had learned the hardest lesson...the only thing he could do, was to allow the dying one to depart in peace. He would realize it soon enough, and when he had come to terms with that, he would be ready for anything that life threw into his path. His son had become a true healer.
You take this pain upon you, as you challenge life unknown
There can be no answer here, but one-
And that's your own