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Pain

Brethildíl glared at the demon before her. Its very existence insulted her, the idea that such a monstrosity could even exist in this world revolted her, and the reek of rotting flesh it exuded filled her with revulsion.

The black hood cloaked its face in shadow, masking all but its eyes, which glowed with an unearthly light, white but oddly writhing, as if maggots crawled under the surface. On a hospital bed in the distance, Aldanna stared at them, fear written across her delicate features as she begged Brethildíl to do something, anything, so that this monster would not claim her.

Don't let Death take me, she pleaded.

Brethildíl sat at a table, placing her right elbow on the solid surface. Death, the cloaked figure she faced, set a distorted and unnaturally thin bladed sword against the wall, before sitting opposite the healer. It placed its own right arm on the table, the sleeves of its cloak falling back to reveal the rotting flesh and half-revealed bones and sinews of an old half-decomposed corpse.

The healer took a steadying breath to prepare herself, then nodded resolutely at Death. She gripped its hand in her own, the bones creaking in her grip and the flesh shifting sickeningly. A few maggots wriggled out of their clasped palms, tickling Brethildíl's hand as they fled her living touch.

Death counted down out loud, in Black Speech, and yet somehow Brethildíl understood what he was saying.

Three.

Two.

One.

The slight young Elf gripped Death's hand with all her strength. Gritting her teeth, she forced all her effort into wrestling Death, knowing that the prize was her friend's life. Death was stronger, and her arm was forced back, sinking inexorably towards the table.

There would be no do-overs. No second chance.

Death was winning. It was stronger than she was, it was overbearing, unyielding. There was nothing Brethildíl could do.

But she was not ready to let go just yet. She would not just let her friend die!

Death would not take Aldanna, not today.

Growling, she forced all her strength into her arm, and slowly the joined fists rose, reaching the vertical. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, and she blinked to get the sting out of her eyes.

Death's grip was waning. Slowly, ever so slowly, the bones in its wrist began to creak and crack, until a loud snap cut the silence like a bolt of thunder in the night. But Death was not ready to relinquish this soul to the healer, and a growl emerged from the depths of its hood.

A red glow seemed to come from under the hood, but the healer soon realised that her opponent's eyes were glowing, their previous white gone, replaced by this unearthly red horror. Death took the advantage as he forced the healer's hand down against her will.

The fight was not going her way.

No matter how hard Brethildíl fought, she could not force the joined fists to rise. She shifted her elbow, losing precious centimetres, but managed to gain them back and some more, in the slightly adjusted position.

She was breathing hard now. No sound emerged from Death, but the red glow intensified.

The raised fists almost reached the midpoint. Brethildíl allowed herself one grim smile, before taking the advantage of the higher position, forcing Death's fist down.

The elation of winning was snatched away in an instant, when Death plunged all its strength into a final push, and Brethildíl's hand smashed into the table, a loud echoing crack announcing the moment her bones split under the pressure.

Death rose, strode to the bed, which suddenly was close, and grinned sadistically at Brethildíl as it bent forwards, while Aldanna screamed for help. The screams echoed in the space, masking Brethildíl's despairing sobs.

Suddenly they were plunged into silence, as Death lifted its hood, leaning forwards and engulfing Aldanna, who disappeared under the hood in a puff of rushing black smoke. Brethildíl was silenced by horror for a second, before she launched herself at Death, fighting and screaming and biting and clawing, without even noticing her arm hanging by shreds of muscle and skin.

"Brethildíl! Shh, I've got you, calm down my dear, everything's alright!"

The words pulled Brethildíl back into the waking world. She gasped for air, clutching desperately at the person holding her tight. She realised that she had been fighting them during her nightmare, for she was exhausted, as if she'd just escaped a skirmish.

"Brethildíl, my love, calm down," the voice continued. "It's okay, everything's okay, you're safe."

The calming words were like a balm, and Brethildíl relaxed into the comforting embrace.

Belegcû wrapped her tight in his arms, murmuring comforting words as she calmed down. Kissing her brow, he rubbed a hand on her neck, in a gesture which helped to anchor her in the real world.

Belegcû is home, and Aldanna is alive, she told herself. You have no reason to fear Death. Death will not take anyone from you today, Brethildíl.

.

Legolas was allowed to visit Aldanna briefly, but he was soon hustled out by Gilion so that Aldanna could do her breathing exercises. He wandered in to visit Tathar, who was recuperating and restricted to bed rest, before attempting to visit Aldanna again.

Pain was all she could think about, all she could speak about. Legolas sat by her side, letting her squeeze his hand, threatening to crush the bones, as she told him about the pain.

She was already on the strongest pain killer they could risk, for the only stronger drug would have the effect of ruining her eyes if the healers put her on it again. It was working fine to block the pain from her ankles and feet, but the pain in her thigh consumed her.

Finally Legolas could stand it no more. He slipped his hand out of hers, and ducked out of the room, ignoring his cousin's protests, before collapsing on the floor in the corridor, out of Aldanna's sight.

He could not take it anymore, but he realised that she had no escape. This only made him sob harder, and when someone appeared at his side he simply cried into their shoulder. It was only later that he realised Nímloth his older sister was the one who had joined him.

Aldanna was starting to hate the word 'breathe' with a passion. It seemed that every breath intensified the pain, and soon the deep breaths and forced huffs caused her airways to clog up, or so it seemed to her, for she suddenly found herself choking on thick globs of dark mucous. Each time she coughed up more gunk though, the attending healer would congratulate her, and relentlessly continue forcing her to breathe in strange and difficult patterns.

Aldanna was not so interested in breathing exercises. She wanted to move. If she moved, the pain might stop. The pain which stemmed from the intrusive metal in her thigh was relentless and overshadowed her every thought.

Her legs still were painful ghosts to her. She spent her time sitting, propped up on pillows, and so she could see that her legs were attached to her body, but she still felt nothing but intense pain, and they would not move, regardless of how she tried.

She had a constant stream of visitors, mostly healers conducting tests or forcing her to do breathing exercises, but her family visited often. She tried not to speak of her pain, but her face betrayed her. Silivren and Malthon must have taken time off work, for one seemed to be always present, hovering at the edge of the room, often muttering to the healers that there must be some better pain relief available. Legolas and Thranduil visited often, though not for long, for Thranduil could not put his profession on hold, and Legolas was spending much of his time with Tathar.

Aldariel, Nímloth, Gilloth, Melloth and Lothlomë often visited her between caring for other patients, though none of them had the strength to stay by her side long, for she had fixated on the fact that her legs did not work, and spoke of little else, which distressed the healers.

She was vaguely aware that Belegcû had returned from his mission, but mostly because Brethildíl was undeniably happy and hopeful, even in the face of Aldanna's unrelenting pain.

The pain had to end sometime. The foreign object in her thigh was intrusive, and when Gillion removed the dressing from her wound it revealed a red, inflamed, angry area of abused skin, with a long scar already starting to form.

"It is starting to heal," Gillion explained to her, as he examined the wound. Aldanna looked on, noting that the pain did not increase when the healer touched the leg, instead staying exactly the same, a steady fire burning deep in her bone.

It was the middle of the night, and Caranfinril had just finished guiding her through yet more breathing exercises and supplying her with yet another bladder of strong pain medication, when Aldanna realised she could tell where her legs were without looking at them.

It was not feeling, not truly, and it might have been a figment of her imagination, having spent so many hours staring at her still legs, but it gave Aldanna hope, and it was something other than the all-encompassing pain. It was only vague, but it was unmistakeable; her hips were flexed, her knees were straight, and her ankles rolled outwards to rest her feet on the bed.

She fell into an exhausted sleep, but for once there was a smile on her fair face. Even the furnace which had made its home in her thigh could not dampen her spirits.

The next morning, she was woken with the dawn by Gillion, who changed the bladder supplying her with pain relief, before sitting by her side to examine her yet again.

As usual, Aldanna closed her eyes, and waited, desperately hoping that she might feel something as the healer moved her legs through a range of motion, or poked and prodded her.

Suddenly, her leg was moved, and her knee and hip were bent. Aldanna's eyes flew open.

"What is it?" Gillion asked, as Aldanna stared at her leg, suspended in the air by the frozen healer's hands at knee and ankle.

"I can feel it," she breathed. "I can feel you moving my leg."

Gillion smiled warmly. "That's wonderful," he said. "That means the swelling in your spinal cord is decreasing. Close your eyes, tell me what you feel."

As she obeyed, Gillion continued to move her leg, stretching the muscles and joints to keep them mobile. Aldanna burst into happy tears as she described the movements, and when Gillion moved to the other side, she could feel movement in her right leg, too.

It did not block the simmering heat in her thigh, but it was a wonderful improvement.

The next day, when Caranfinril ran the tests on her legs, Aldanna noticed something else through the pain. "Your hands are cold," she murmured through a wide smile. "I can feel your hands, they are cold. I can feel your hands!"

The rest of that week went by without change. Caranfinril tried to change her onto lesser pain relief, but Aldanna could not handle the furnace in full flame, and had to be returned to the stronger medication. She continued to attempt to move, with and without healers present, desperately hoping that this time, this time, there would be some change.

Her thigh bones were starting to adhere to the metal, or so Caranfinril and Brethildíl told her, when they took her left leg through the familiar passive movements and found something indescribably different about her skeletal stability. Aldanna could not make heads nor tails of this discovery, but she understood that it was good, it had to happen for her to heal.

She could not be sure, but the furnace seemed to turn down the heat, just a little. It was more like a slumbering dragon's belly-fire, threatening to break into flames at the slightest provocation, but contained for the moment.

For the first time in a week, she slept through the night, without waking from the pain.

It was while Silivren sat with her that she finally managed a twitch.

She shouted, sitting forward, staring at her foot, and ignoring her confused mother, whatever Silivren had been saying fading into utter insignificance.

"Look! Nana, look!" she shouted, pointing at her right foot. She tried again, and the big toe twitched, flexing for a moment before relaxing. "Nana! Nana! I moved! Eru, I moved!"

Her excited shouts had drawn the healers, and while Silivren jumped and shouted in celebration with her less mobile daughter, Aldanna shouted for all to hear.

"I moved my toe! I moved my toe! I moved my toe!"

As Caranfinril, Brethildíl and Gillion beamed at her, with wide smiles and hope shining in their eyes, Aldanna realised something.

She had hope.

Movement was hope, and she had movement, which meant she had a reason to hope.

I will never give up, she promised herself.

I am going to heal, and I will fight til the end.