Author's Notes: alright, this is my first fic, so please go easy on me.
Sorry if I got any facts about Middle-earth wrong. Oh, and please REVIEW! I
love reviews and it lets me know if I ought to continue my story.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the places or people in this story except for Nefhuine. She's mine. The rest belongs to Tolkien, so please don't sue me. You wouldn't get much anyway.
CHAPTER 1
Nefhuine was tense. She could feel something quickly approaching, something she knew was important and that she was deeply involved with but she couldn't place what it was.
Slowly, she became aware of the sound of horse's hooves in the distance. At first she made no notice of it, but it began to grow louder. She abruptly realized that it was gradually making its way towards her. She raced to the gate of the grounds.
Nefhuine froze momentarily when she comprehended that it was a single rider, clad in Elvish riding gear. She was instantly brought out of her trance when he fell from the back of his horse, his legs unable to hold him on without a saddle any longer.
She hastened towards the rider, praying that he wasn't too badly injured. She had mentally slowed down his fall, but she was unable to concentrate hard enough to hold him in mid air. As soon as Nefhuine reached him she perceived that he was severely wounded.
She felt more than heard the numerous Orcs that were tailing him and she spun around to face the twenty or so that were close on his heels. Thanking her lucky stars that she had thought to bring her bow and full quiver of arrows, Nefhuine watched them score into the gates. She fired several shots in quick succession being rewarded by the squeals of unsuspecting Orcs as her arrows pierced them fatally. Within minutes the entire party of Orcs lay slain on the lawn.
Checking to make sure that the immediate danger of Orcs had passed she quickly turned her full attention to the fallen Elf. She decided to take him into the school and personally see to his well being. Afraid to move him physically, she used all her mental strength to lift him into the air and get him into the building that was her father's. Fortunately her room was on the first floor somewhat near the entrance so she wasn't too tired to get him there.
As soon as she got him into the extra bed she began checking which parts of his body was injured. As she was afraid to leave him she did not go and get any other help. She preferred to heal on her own anyway.
The first thing Nefhuine noticed was that he was possibly fatally injured. She began working incredibly quickly. She removed his over tunic and realized that his arm was badly mutilated. Knowing that, even if he was an Elf, he had no strength left in him, Nefhuine started to tend the wound without much hope.
There was something very familiar about this Elf, but she could not figure out what. Whenever she touched him she felt a tingling sensation. She had never felt this before. It startled her, but she used the acquired self-discipline that several years training as a priestess on Avalon had brought to push it from her mind.
She had the immediate feeling that it was essential for her to save this person. She couldn't explain it, not even to herself. All she knew was that she must save him, at all costs. She then knew what she must do. Silently she placed a single hand on his wounded left biceps and concentrated on transferring her energy. A pale blue light appeared where her hand touched. She could feel the energy leaving her.
He stirred. She started when she realized he was watching her. He was looking at her intently. She pointedly ignored the piercing gaze of his splendid brown eyes; it was very difficult, as she had never seen such exquisite eyes in her life, to concentrate on his next wound
It was on the back of his leg. She healed this in the same manor as before.
She could feel her strength draining as she proceeded to heal the third and worst wound on his abdomen. It was a deep gash made by the piercing of an Orc arrow. She soaked up the blood with a soft clean towel and then lowered her hand onto the injury. She was slightly disgusted by the blood seeping around her fingers, but the she pushed that from her mind with sheer will power; she needed to concentrate.
Aragorn strode by the door and glanced in just in time to see Nefhuine collapse in a heap on the floor. The effort of healing had not only drained her of all her energy but also transferred some of the laceration to herself. Blood oozed through her tunic on her left side near her midsection. When she said all costs, she meant it.
Aragorn rushed to her side. He removed her from the room and sent her to the care of Lord Elrond, the best healer Middle-earth had ever seen. Although, he thought to himself as he curried her to Elrond's office, this young one will certainly give him a run for his money. How she learned how to transfer her energy and someone else's injury and pain is beyond me.
Whilst running through the corridors with Nefhuine in his arms he passed Gimli. Aragorn hollered at him to tend to the semi-conscious Elf in Nefhuine's chambers until Aragorn could return from Elrond's.
Cursing his luck at having to watch over a 'stupid ruddy Elf', Gimli stole to Nefhuine's room. There he encountered an Elf whose clothes where stained with blood and worn with travel. Kinder than his word, Gimli stripped the bed the mysterious Elf was laying in and placed him in the neighboring bed which happened to be Nefhuine's. Once the Elf was securely 'tucked in' Gimli went off in search of Aragorn.
He promptly found him in Elrond's study. Aragorn looked more worn than Gimli had ever seen him.
"What happened outside," Gimli asked of Aragorn.
"That Elf in Nefhuine's chambers was hotly pursued by Orcs. I searched the area around where he fell from his horse and also the tracks outside the grounds. I found twenty-seven slain Orcs where he fell," came the reply.
"So that means that Nefhuine herself dealt with them. Is that how she came by her wounded mid-drift," questioned the Dwarf after glancing at the form of the unconscious Elf that was Nefhuine.
"Actually no. She inflicted many fatal wounds on the Orcs without so much as breaking a sweat. It was rescuing the Elf that has truly damaged her."
"What do you mean?"
"Somehow she learned the sacred art of healing by giving away her energy and taking the pain, weariness and injury of others. I did not teach her this and neither did Lord Elrond. It appears that she did a bit of illegal independent study in the basement of Elrond's quarters," said Aragorn. "The most unfortunate thing for her is that she probably didn't know how much energy she needed to keep. She drained herself far too much and she will not remain Immortal. Or, more accurately, she will loose all Elven self-healing abilities that she was born with. She will not be immune to injury the way an Elf is for the next several years or so."
Both were so caught up in conversation about Nefhuine's well being, that they didn't notice a concealed Elf standing in the doorway. He was clearly aghast at what the Lady had done for him. He did not understand. They had never met before, he was sure of that, for he could never forget a face of such beauty, splendor and elegance. But even if they had met, she would not have known who it was. His face was covered by a helm the whole time and he spoke not at all so she couldn't have recognized his voice. Why would such a fair creature risk so much to save him?
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the places or people in this story except for Nefhuine. She's mine. The rest belongs to Tolkien, so please don't sue me. You wouldn't get much anyway.
CHAPTER 1
Nefhuine was tense. She could feel something quickly approaching, something she knew was important and that she was deeply involved with but she couldn't place what it was.
Slowly, she became aware of the sound of horse's hooves in the distance. At first she made no notice of it, but it began to grow louder. She abruptly realized that it was gradually making its way towards her. She raced to the gate of the grounds.
Nefhuine froze momentarily when she comprehended that it was a single rider, clad in Elvish riding gear. She was instantly brought out of her trance when he fell from the back of his horse, his legs unable to hold him on without a saddle any longer.
She hastened towards the rider, praying that he wasn't too badly injured. She had mentally slowed down his fall, but she was unable to concentrate hard enough to hold him in mid air. As soon as Nefhuine reached him she perceived that he was severely wounded.
She felt more than heard the numerous Orcs that were tailing him and she spun around to face the twenty or so that were close on his heels. Thanking her lucky stars that she had thought to bring her bow and full quiver of arrows, Nefhuine watched them score into the gates. She fired several shots in quick succession being rewarded by the squeals of unsuspecting Orcs as her arrows pierced them fatally. Within minutes the entire party of Orcs lay slain on the lawn.
Checking to make sure that the immediate danger of Orcs had passed she quickly turned her full attention to the fallen Elf. She decided to take him into the school and personally see to his well being. Afraid to move him physically, she used all her mental strength to lift him into the air and get him into the building that was her father's. Fortunately her room was on the first floor somewhat near the entrance so she wasn't too tired to get him there.
As soon as she got him into the extra bed she began checking which parts of his body was injured. As she was afraid to leave him she did not go and get any other help. She preferred to heal on her own anyway.
The first thing Nefhuine noticed was that he was possibly fatally injured. She began working incredibly quickly. She removed his over tunic and realized that his arm was badly mutilated. Knowing that, even if he was an Elf, he had no strength left in him, Nefhuine started to tend the wound without much hope.
There was something very familiar about this Elf, but she could not figure out what. Whenever she touched him she felt a tingling sensation. She had never felt this before. It startled her, but she used the acquired self-discipline that several years training as a priestess on Avalon had brought to push it from her mind.
She had the immediate feeling that it was essential for her to save this person. She couldn't explain it, not even to herself. All she knew was that she must save him, at all costs. She then knew what she must do. Silently she placed a single hand on his wounded left biceps and concentrated on transferring her energy. A pale blue light appeared where her hand touched. She could feel the energy leaving her.
He stirred. She started when she realized he was watching her. He was looking at her intently. She pointedly ignored the piercing gaze of his splendid brown eyes; it was very difficult, as she had never seen such exquisite eyes in her life, to concentrate on his next wound
It was on the back of his leg. She healed this in the same manor as before.
She could feel her strength draining as she proceeded to heal the third and worst wound on his abdomen. It was a deep gash made by the piercing of an Orc arrow. She soaked up the blood with a soft clean towel and then lowered her hand onto the injury. She was slightly disgusted by the blood seeping around her fingers, but the she pushed that from her mind with sheer will power; she needed to concentrate.
Aragorn strode by the door and glanced in just in time to see Nefhuine collapse in a heap on the floor. The effort of healing had not only drained her of all her energy but also transferred some of the laceration to herself. Blood oozed through her tunic on her left side near her midsection. When she said all costs, she meant it.
Aragorn rushed to her side. He removed her from the room and sent her to the care of Lord Elrond, the best healer Middle-earth had ever seen. Although, he thought to himself as he curried her to Elrond's office, this young one will certainly give him a run for his money. How she learned how to transfer her energy and someone else's injury and pain is beyond me.
Whilst running through the corridors with Nefhuine in his arms he passed Gimli. Aragorn hollered at him to tend to the semi-conscious Elf in Nefhuine's chambers until Aragorn could return from Elrond's.
Cursing his luck at having to watch over a 'stupid ruddy Elf', Gimli stole to Nefhuine's room. There he encountered an Elf whose clothes where stained with blood and worn with travel. Kinder than his word, Gimli stripped the bed the mysterious Elf was laying in and placed him in the neighboring bed which happened to be Nefhuine's. Once the Elf was securely 'tucked in' Gimli went off in search of Aragorn.
He promptly found him in Elrond's study. Aragorn looked more worn than Gimli had ever seen him.
"What happened outside," Gimli asked of Aragorn.
"That Elf in Nefhuine's chambers was hotly pursued by Orcs. I searched the area around where he fell from his horse and also the tracks outside the grounds. I found twenty-seven slain Orcs where he fell," came the reply.
"So that means that Nefhuine herself dealt with them. Is that how she came by her wounded mid-drift," questioned the Dwarf after glancing at the form of the unconscious Elf that was Nefhuine.
"Actually no. She inflicted many fatal wounds on the Orcs without so much as breaking a sweat. It was rescuing the Elf that has truly damaged her."
"What do you mean?"
"Somehow she learned the sacred art of healing by giving away her energy and taking the pain, weariness and injury of others. I did not teach her this and neither did Lord Elrond. It appears that she did a bit of illegal independent study in the basement of Elrond's quarters," said Aragorn. "The most unfortunate thing for her is that she probably didn't know how much energy she needed to keep. She drained herself far too much and she will not remain Immortal. Or, more accurately, she will loose all Elven self-healing abilities that she was born with. She will not be immune to injury the way an Elf is for the next several years or so."
Both were so caught up in conversation about Nefhuine's well being, that they didn't notice a concealed Elf standing in the doorway. He was clearly aghast at what the Lady had done for him. He did not understand. They had never met before, he was sure of that, for he could never forget a face of such beauty, splendor and elegance. But even if they had met, she would not have known who it was. His face was covered by a helm the whole time and he spoke not at all so she couldn't have recognized his voice. Why would such a fair creature risk so much to save him?