Disclaimer: I own nothing recognisable

The Miracle of Life

Legolas had been denied entry to Tathar's room by the healers. Aldanna, however, was not off-limits to him. And so he spent his time in her room, often joined by Silivren or Malthon, and occasionally by Thranduil. Aldariel stopped at the door often, but she did not interrupt, only stopping to check that her son and niece still lived.

Tathar was still a bit touch-and-go, demanding all of Aldariel's attention. She had stabilised his rib fractures, but the young warrior had not improved as quickly as she had hoped. She was not letting his parents or cousins in to see him, though there was little she could do to prevent Brethildíl finding out about her cousin's situation.

Silivren allowed Legolas to sit by Aldanna's side, perching on a side table instead. Legolas spoke to his cousin in a soft stream of mindless prattle, while Silivren attempted to keep herself together.

Legolas did not even notice when the lithe warrior left, for Silivren made no sound, and did not click the door closed. Once she was far from the healing ward, though, she lost her fragile control and fell to the ground in a puddle of tears, where she was found by a warrior returning from patrol. Tuilë simply held the smaller elleth as she sobbed, before guiding her to her home, where she put Silivren to bed with a cup of strong tea.

In the training field which had once been use by trainees, in a time when there were children still being born to the Elves, Malthon faced a target with his great war-bow raised. In his mind, that target was not an orc, or troll, or any other monster of the Enemy. The target was his frustrations and worries.

Long ago, Malthon had been just a warrior, before he ever thought about training as a healer. He had married Silivren young, having fallen in love with the older elleth who shadowed the Queen while still training. He had fought in the Last Alliance, with his son by his side, surrounded by his friends. Many of them had died, due to a lack of healers available in the field. That was the day Malthon had decided he would become a healer, so that he would never again have to watch his comrades die. It was too late for him to save his friends, or his son.

It was not too late for his daughter.

Malthon knew that there was absolutely no precedent for bone replacement. There was no way to tell if the remaining bone would attach to the prosthesis, or if the metal would poison her in time. There was no way to know if she would ever walk again, or if she would be restricted to bed rest forever, only to fade from grief and despair.

As arrow after arrow thudded into the target, Malthon's thoughts ran wild. He had already lost a son. He could not lose a daughter, for such a blow would cause him to fade.

Brethildíl was in the library, attempting to find something, anything, which might help to direct her treatment of Aldanna. Caranfinril and Cûldol had allowed her to take charge, for they did not have any more experience than Brethildíl herself in the matter of a metal bone replacement.

She read every medical journal in Sindarin and the few which had been written in Silvan, and stumbled her way through the journals she could find in Westron and even Quenya, but nothing of the kind had ever happened before, as far as she could tell.

There was no telling what to expect. Brethildíl had no idea of the possible complications, or a realistic time frame for rehabilitation.

All she had going for her was that Aldanna was still breathing. Unless she arrested while I have been in the library, Brethildíl realised with a sinking feeling.

Meanwhile, Legolas still chattered at Aldanna, oblivious to the drama going on outside the room.

He told Aldanna about their adventures as children, and giving their teachers a hard time while they were trainees. He reminded his cousin about their Warrior's Trials, when she had beaten him by a single point to claim the title of Winner. He told her about their trip to Dol Guldur, and how they had returned unscathed from that darkness.

His sisters dropped in on Aldanna, first Nímloth and then Lothlomë. Neither spoke to Legolas, only checking that their cousin was still breathing.

Nímloth's daughters Gilloth and Melloth slipped inside while Legolas begged Aldanna to wake up. The young healers were of no more use than Lothlomë had been, but after they left, Legolas found a pile of handkerchiefs and a plate of fruit. He did not know whom to thank for them, but he was glad for the food, for had forgotten to eat earlier.

Legolas was halfway through an entirely fictional story about an elleth named Eva whom he'd fallen in love with, when Aldanna murmured, "can I be the best man?"

Legolas stopped his fiction, looking closely at his cousin, who rested peacefully with her eyes closed. The only hint that she had woken was her breathing, which had become shallow and fast.

"You're awake!" he crowed, standing to lean over her for a gentle hug. "Aldanna, we thought you'd never wake up! Oh, I'm so glad you're alive!"

Aldanna cracked one eye open, looking up at Legolas and squinting against the sunlight. "Who's this Eva?"

Legolas sat back and laughed, the sound echoing through the solemn halls and bringing smiles of wonder to the healer's faces, though Legolas could not have known it. "I hoped if I said something outrageous enough you might wake up. I'm afraid Eva is just a story I made up to try to shock you into life."

"That's a pity," Aldanna murmured, shifting uncomfortably. "She sounds lovely. I would like to meet her."

"How are you feeling?" he asked suddenly, brows knitting in worry as he looked her up and down, noting the brown bruises which peeked past the bandages and sheets.

Aldanna opened both eyes, finally getting used to the light. She looked down, seeing little other than the sheet which obscured her body. "Like the pits of Thangorodrim," she answered, earning a sympathetic grimace from her cousin. "I cannot feel my legs."

Suddenly she started to panic, fighting against the pillows and blankets and plaster – and Legolas – to sit up. "Where are my legs? Did they take my leg? Legolas, where is my leg!"

The shouting attracted the attention of the healers, and the door burst open as Legolas attempted to calm Aldanna down. Gillion and Caranfinril rushed in, going to Aldanna and attempting to sooth her.

Finally the words all three Elves were saying sunk into Aldanna's foggy mind. "I still have my legs," she murmured, sinking into sleep.

Legolas panicked, not knowing if this was bad. Should she be falling asleep so soon? Had her panic attack worn her out? Would she ever wake again? Questions tumbled one over another through his mind, until he realised that he was being dragged out of the healing room by Gillion, who firmly pushed him into the hallway.

Brethildíl breezed past, not even looking at Legolas as she entered the room he had just been kicked out of.

He sat down in the hallway, sinking his head into his hands. Ten minutes later, he realised that someone was next to him, silently offering support. He turned to find Brethilríl, who smiled sadly at Legolas.

"I got kicked out of Tathar's room," he confessed to his friend. "Your mother and sisters are hovering over him like mother hens; they will not let anyone give him any cause to stress. Not after he ripped his chest apart."

"Aldanna woke up," Legolas offered in return after a moment of silence. "But then she panicked because she can't feel her legs. She thought the healers had taken her leg. Caranfinril and Gillion and your sister are inside."

As Legolas and Brethilríl waited, they couldn't help but wonder what would become of them if Tathar or Aldanna did not survive.

Neither friend was willing to give voice to his fears, but they drew silent support from each other as they waited for their cousins' conditions to change.

.

Tathar opened his eyes, blinking a few times in an attempt to clear his blurry vision. His chest ached dully, but he found that he could move, though sitting up was beyond him. He lay flat on his bed in the healing wing, and smiling softly in the corner was the Queen herself.

Aldariel approached Tathar slowly, seeming to drift on a breeze. He raised his hand to wipe his eyes, but the blurriness would not fade, though it did improve a little. "My Lady," he greeted her, the words using far more effort than they really should have. He took a shallow breath and attempted to ask after Aldanna, but his chest burst into pain, causing him to wince, and her to frown in concern.

"Just relax, dear," Aldariel soothed him, sitting by his bed. "You saved her life, everything is alright, she's alive, and you're going to be just fine, Tathar." He nodded, smiling weakly at the Queen, an elleth whom he considered an honorary aunt. He noticed that his breathing was quite shallow, but was loth to try breathing more deeply.

"Now, my dear," Aldariel said to him in a brisk manner, reminding Tathar that she was not only a Queen, mother and aunt, but also a Senior Healer. "I'm not letting you out of my sight until you start breathing normally again. We had to put you under some very powerful drugs to fix your chest up after you ripped my hard work right open, so I'm afraid those little areas of your lungs which collapsed last time are shut tight again."

She proceeded to guide him through not one but three different breathing exercises, which thoroughly exhausted Tathar.

His chest pain was phenomenal, and even the drip in his arm did not mask it all. Tathar grit his teeth and pushed on, for with each exercise Aldariel guided him through, his breath came easier, though he became exhausted quickly.

Finally he fell asleep, under Aldariel's watchful eye.

.

Aldanna first noticed pain. Her back ached dully. Her ankles felt tender and sore. But it was her thigh which stole her attention, burning with a ceaseless fire.

An idle though crossed her mind, I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all, before she realised with a jolt, I have legs! I have two legs! They really did not take my legs!

The next thing she noticed was the smell. It was a very clean smell, with the tang of freshly mixed herbs.

Then she realised someone was speaking, softly, as if to avoid disturbing a sleeper. The smooth low tone was unmistakeably male, and she realised that it was Gillion, a healer. She did not catch the words, for they were all run together and a fog was clouding her mind, but she did notice the different timbre of a higher voice, a female voice, a voice which held hidden wisdom.

She could not have guessed if it was Cûldol or Caranfinril speaking, but for either Senior healer to be in the room with a sleeping patient must mean something serious. Aldanna became nervous, but she could feel her legs, both of them, so the senior healer could not be waiting to tell her that she is now a cripple.

Finally she opened her eyes. The world was a little blurry, and she blearily blinked away the film which seemed to cover her eyes, to no avail. Soft footsteps made their way to her bedside, and a light weight settled on the bed beside her. "Aldanna," the elleth's voice said softly, and Aldanna turned her face towards the red and white blur she assumed was the healer's face framed by flaming hair. "Aldanna, can you hear me?"

"Yes," she answered, her mouth and throat strangely dry. "Water?" she asked, working her dry tongue around her mouth in an attempt to regain her normal sensation.

"I'm sorry, Aldanna, you're nil by mouth until we you can swallow properly. The vein vine is keeping you hydrated."

Aldanna nodded, though she felt no better about the dry mouth and throat.

Caranfinril spoke while the door opened and closed, though Aldanna could not see through her blurred vision whether Gillion had left or if somebody else had entered. "Aldanna, you are on the most powerful pain medication we possess. We can only keep you on it for a few more hours, lest you lose your vision permanently. When we take you off it, I'm so sorry, but you will be in pain."

"I'm already in pain," Aldanna tried to say, though the words came out half-formed.

"Where do you hurt?"

"My thigh burns. My ankles ache. My back aches a bit less. My forehead hurts when I move my face," she summarised for the healer.

"Your ankles were injured, but they will heal with time. There is a cut on your forehead, which has been cleaned and dressed, and that will likely not even leave a scar. You had some swelling in your spine, and I'm afraid I can't tell you what damage there is until we test it. I had hoped it would block pain, but it seems we are not that lucky. Can you wiggle your toes?"

Aldanna tried, but she had no idea whether she succeeded, being unable to see or feel them. She noticed now that she did not actually feel her legs, or the sheets covering them, or the bed under them. She only felt the pain from them.

She started to panic. She had heard of Men suffering phantom limb pain after amputation. "My leg?" she asked, as she started to struggle to breathe. "What about my leg?" she asked urgently, trying to stare into the healer's eyes but not really sure that she was looking in the right place.

"You still have your leg," the healer assured her, placing a hand on her leg, though Aldanna could not feel it. "But I am afraid that you will never be the same again. Your bone was shattered beyond hope of repair. We were planning to amputate, but your friend Brethildíl came up with a novel solution. I am yet to judge whether it is brilliant or stupid, but she insisted, and it means you have a chance to keep your leg, though I can't promise that it will work."

"What did you do?"

A familiar voice answered, and all of Aldanna's fears were washed away, though the fiery pain from her leg remained. Brethildíl was one of the youngest and most inexperienced healers in the Greenwood, but she had saved Aldanna's life countless times before. If Aldanna trusted any healer to achieve the impossible, it was Brethildíl.

"I replaced your bone. You have to give it time, for the remaining bone to attach to the implant, and for the muscles to knit back together, but I think you might walk again."

Aldanna relaxed into her pillows, a happy smile gracing her face where so much pain had twisted it into agony. "You are an angel," she declared, looking towards the fuzzy brown figure she guessed was her dear friend.

Brethildíl laughed happily. "Let's see if this works, first," she replied.

The senior healers soon left, and Brethildíl guided Aldanna through some breathing exercises. Soon the bladder attached to her drip was changed, and slowly Aldanna's vision cleared, though the pain in her leg became twenty times worse as the medication wore off. Once she could function through the pain, Brethildíl helped her through some more breathing exercises, and Aldanna could not for the life of her understand why her healer considered her intensely painful coughing fit to be such a great success, when it felt like she had hacked up her lungs whole.

She was left with a hollow reed, which had fine hanging strips at the end, and instructions to breath in through it five times every ten minutes. No matter how she tried, she could not breathe slowly enough to cause only the smallest strip to flutter, but the healers who checked in on her each hour assured her that trying was all that made the difference.

It was dark when she finally managed to open her lungs up to allow normal breathing.

She did not fool herself for one second that she had achieved any major victory, though.

The hard part was still to come.