A/N: Sorry I'm so late! I-have no excuses, really. Sorry. *leaves chapter and shrinks away*
Amdir's world held its breath and he heard the sound of his own breathing. In, out—the world faltered, like a young fawn wobbling to its feet after falling. He heard flames crackling. Slowly the world began to move again and he heard running footsteps.
"Amdir! Amdir, are you all right?"
Toradan.
Amdir smiled. All was right with the world once again.
Only…
As he shifted to meet his brother the movement jarred his shoulder and he hissed at the pain of it.
"You're still wounded," Toradan muttered. "They're gone, but—"
Amdir heard Jon take a ragged breath and let it out in an anguished scream. "Father!"
Dale heaved himself upright and made his way to the hunter, murmuring words of inadequate comfort.
"We've got to get you to a healer," Toradan said. "But where—"
In a cave, a Ranger stood in a shaft of sunlight. "Scholars are everywhere, if you only know how to find them."
"Reniolind," Amdir breathed.
Toradan froze. "Yes, of course! He'd know—but where is he? Last I heard he was with Mundol studying the ruins of Ost Barandor."
Then they heard the sound of many, many wolves howling to the south. They turned instinctively towards it but could see nothing.
Amdir frowned. "The Wolf Den," he mumbled. "But who's there?"
"The what?" Toradan repeated.
"Wolf Den," Amdir said. "Small cave in the Chetwood, just beyond the Blackwold's roost there."
"Cave?" Toradan spun towards it. "That's how they got into Archet Dale," he realized.
"No, it's just a—"
Toradan gasped, interrupting his brother. "By the grace of the Valar…" he started running forward.
"What? What is it?" Amdir asked, struggling to see what had caused such a reaction in the older Ranger. He saw Toradan running towards a distant figure but couldn't make him out.
A strangled cry distracted him and he heard Atli howling in Dwarvish. Bali is dead, he thought. Jon, he remembered. The Captain. Dale was helping Jon to his feet, and Amdir caught a glimpse of the hunter's eyes as he noticed the fires and the chaos around them. They softened, he breathed in, they hardened, he stood tall, and set his shoulders back.
Archet was in good hands.
"Amdir!" a new voice called, but one he recognized. Could scarcely believe, but he did recognize it.
"Reniolind?" he asked in amazement.
The young scholar knelt beside him. He smelled of wolves and blood, and the familiar dusty scent of the scrolls he lived with. "Amdir, I know of someone who can heal you."
Amdir blinked. "You do?"
"Yes, but—" Reniolind glanced at Toradan. "Did the knife leave a splinter in his wound?"
"I don't believe so, though you could tell better than I. He is certainly much healthier than he would be if it had."
"Good," Reniolind breathed. "Very good." He checked Amdir's eyes. "Yes, there is much hope." He looked up. "The Blackwolds won't return for a long time, but the devastation they left behind—" His eyes were sad.
Jon's voice came from behind Amdir and he jumped, not having heard him. "It will take much to rebuild, yes. Are you a Ranger as well?"
"Yes."
"Can you help Amdir?"
Reniolind hesitated. "Not I—a healer I know of." He cocked his head, studying the hunter. "Do you know of the wisewoman near the Silverwell?"
Jon nodded.
"Silverwell," Amdir repeated to himself. The name was familiar…
"By the Yellow Tree, southwest of the Marshes," Reniolind clarified. "I met her as I was on my way to study the Marshwater Fort."
Jon crouched beside Amdir. "You must hurry, then. Amdir is a loyal friend, and if anyone can help him, she can."
"But Archet—" Amdir started.
"I will stay," Dale offered.
Toradan hesitated.
"Go with your brother," Jon said. "If you can, come back when you have finished. There is much to be done."
"Mundol could help," Reniolind said.
"No, he is needed in the Mustering Cave—our people are scattered and will most likely make their way there." Toradan sighed. "We have much to do as well. I would speak with Ar—Strider," he caught himself.
"After," Reniolind said, though he looked concerned. Amdir realized the young scholar probably didn't even know how they had fled from the Nazgul.
The two Rangers looked at Amdir. "A horse," Toradan decided.
Amdir held himself up as much as he could, but somehow his head kept bowing to meet the horse's mane. Toradan and Reniolind walked beside him, though he could barely recognize them, disguised as they were as refugees from Archet. "We are, after all," Toradan had said with a grin.
They left the long archway of trees and passed beside a small farm. A hobbit-house stood beside it. The farm looked ready for harvest, though bear tracks could be seen on the edge.
They didn't used to be so bold.
They passed another hobbit-house, nodded to the hobbit there, and continued down the hill.
Reniolind was excited. "It's just here," he whispered. "Nestled into the back of the hill."
He turned Amdir's horse and pointed. "See? You'd almost miss it, if you didn't know it was there."
Indeed. The Silverwell was a secluded spring, tucked into the hill, but so covered by trees and shrubs that you couldn't see it, even from the roads which ran right by it.
Amdir sat up straighter. His horse took a step forward and suddenly he could see a woman sitting by the spring. She wore a grey-blue dress and her hair seemed to be grey, though she did not look old. She looked up and smiled, rising gracefully. When she stood beside one of the bright green shrubs, her dress seemed greener instead of blue.
"What brings you here, Reniolind?" she asked. Her voice seemed young but old—wise, Amdir corrected himself. Wise. "Though I sense some evil with you." She looked at Amdir, eyes bright and knowing. "Perhaps with you?"
"Yes, Willowsong. My friend Amdir has been stung by a Morgul-blade."
Instantly the wisewoman was all business. "How long ago?" she started, and from there asked several questions of Toradan, and then Amdir. "How does it feel? When is it most cold?" She relaxed at the hearing of the Cargul's demise, though frowned at Toradan and Amdir suspected she'd be giving him something soon.
She sent Reniolind off to fetch an herb even Toradan hadn't heard of, Toradan to fetch one he had heard of, and drew a cup of water from her well. "Drink, young Ranger," she commanded, though her voice was soft and musical.
"Who are you?" Amdir wondered as he took the cup.
Willowsong only smiled.
The water was cool and refreshing, and clean.
Reniolind and Toradan returned with the herbs and she mixed them in with water from her spring and other herbs she kept there. She closed her eyes and breathed—in, out—and opened them. "Here," she said, and Amdir drank it.
He could feel it purge the poison out of his body.
Willowsong smiled again as Toradan and Reniolind embraced him joyfully.
Later, Amdir would remember that time as the darkest, but somehow also the lightest. He knew he had narrowly escaped a terrible fate, and only the presence of his brother and friends, old and new, had saved him.
A/N: So, there it is. the last chapter. Bit quick, I guess, but at least Amdir isn't dead. So what did you think? Critiques are appreciated. Thank you to the few who actually read this! Seriously, thank you.
