Chapter 21

Legolas startled awake, feeling muddled and confused. It took him a moment to get his bearings. He was lying in a bed in the infirmary. He had not remembered falling asleep. His father was sitting up and arguing with Aranhil in low tones, both obviously trying not to disturb him.

"Please my lord," Aranhil was saying, "You need more rest. Lord Camthalion is still in the same condition he was the last time I spoke to you. There is nothing more we can do but wait and see how he responds to the surgery and the medications. There is nothing to be gained by sitting in a chair all night at the bedside further exhausting yourself."

"I need to be with my son," Thranduil said, having none of it. He grimaced at how weak he still felt when he tried to get off of the bed. Thinking better of it instead he irritability handed the empty medication vial back to the healer in a mild show of temper. He was tired of the strong taste of miruvor and alfirin but he had to admit it was helping him recover far more swiftly than he had expected. So he tolerated it. His only thoughts were to get enough strength back as quickly as possible so that he could get to Camthalion.

"I promised you I would stay with him and I will, hîr nín" Aranhil argued, completely unaffected by Thranduil's temper. He had known him for several millennia and had not been intimidated by it since his youth. "Please, do as I beg you. You have only been resting a couple of hours. It will take time to recover your strength. You are going to injure yourself further if you do not rest and what good will that do Lord Camthalion?"

Thranduil opened his mouth to give a sharp reply but a soft, sleepy voice interrupted him.

"Adar?"

"Go back to sleep, iôn," Thranduil told Legolas, his voice losing its hard edge instantly.

"Adar?"

"Everything is fine," Thranduil told him, "Go back to sleep. It isn't even morning yet."

Legolas said nothing but tugged impatiently on his father's sleeve. He knew Thranduil should be resting. It was obvious he was still exhausted enough that his scars were still visible, though not as clearly as before. Legolas knew Thranduil needed the rest more than he did he but also knew he couldn't order him to do so.

"Please?"

Thranduil heaved a great sigh but said nothing. Instead, he laid back down on the bed, resigned that it was one battle he wasn't going to win. Aranhil kept his smirk well hidden and extinguished the lamp in the room before exiting quietly. Thranduil settled back down onto the pillows and smiled as Legolas instantly laid his head on his chest. He was more exhausted than he cared to admit. He was still frightened for his eldest but having his youngest next to him comforted him in a way he did not expect. He nuzzled the top of the blond head and inhaled his familiar scent before laying a soft kiss in the silky, fair hair. He felt nothing but gratitude for this rash, impulsive being who made his life so very colorful. He felt their fëar flow in that same consistent, familiar Song that brought him security and peace. He laid quietly and listened as Legolas's breaths became slow and deep as he succumbed to sleep once more. Once he was certain Legolas was sleeping soundly he allowed himself to finally slip back into the deep slumber he desperately needed.

He woke several hours later feeling much more himself. He looked down and smiled when he found Legolas still sleeping in the same position curled up against him with his head on his chest. As he laid quietly for a moment he pondered how he could get out of the bed without waking him. Legolas was stressed, tired and exhausted. Thranduil knew he was frightened for not only his brother but for his father as well. He had been so young to lose his mother, the most important edhil in his life, and it had left its mark on him. Thranduil knew that this past trauma was weighing heavily on him and he feared he would lose his father and brother. Not wanting to wake him, he carefully maneuvered his body to try to transfer Legolas smoothly onto the pillow. But Legolas's eyes instantly came into focus.

"Adar?" he asked frantically, "What is it? Is it…"

"Everything is fine," Thranduil assured him instantly as he affectionately swept back the loose tendrils of Legolas's hair that escaped his braids while they slept, "I merely awoke. That is all."

Legolas nodded, looking relieved. He looked up into his father's face. "You look much more like yourself," he told him.

Thranduil smiled at him. "That is good to hear," he said, as he stretched some of the kinks out of his muscles, "I do not like the scarring on full display."

"You are still beautiful, Adar," Legolas said, "scarred or not."

"Thank you, iôn," Thranduil said mildly, "But I am sure you are only saying that because you look like me."

"Perhaps I am," Legolas replied with a grin as his father rolled his eyes.

"Let's go see how your brother is faring," Thranduil said, the seriousness of their situation swiftly coming back to him.

Nodding, Legolas climbed out of bed and followed his father out in the corridor. Elros was standing guard outside the room and as soon as he laid eyes on The King he looked relieved.

"You did well yesterday, mellon nín," Thranduil told him, "It eases my mind to know you are always beside me. But take today and rest. I will not be leaving The Palace."

"It is, as always, been my privilege, Aran nín," Elros replied as he bowed.

"Go home," Thranduil told him with a grin, "I know your naneth will be coming for you if I don't release you soon."

Elros laughed tiredly. Both of them had been subjected to his mother's overbearing nature more than once over the past several millennia. He saluted The King and departed, on a one way trek to his own bed.

Eleniel didn't look up when she heard the door open, assuming Aranhil had returned. She continued to sing softly as she held The Crown Prince's hand with her left hand and bathed his face with the cool water with her right.

"His mother always sang that song to him when he was small," Thranduil said, instantly recognizing the ancient, Silvan lullaby. His broken heart gave a painful lurch as the grief he tried to keep hidden, deep down in it flared at the unexpected reminder of The Queen.

Eleniel gasped and turned sharply to see The King and young Prince standing in the doorway.

"My lords," she said hastily as she stood and gave a small bow, "I am sorry but I thought you were Aranhil."

Thranduil dismissed her unnecessary apology. "How is my son?" he asked as he walked up to the bedside.

"Do you want to talk to the healer, my lord? I am only an apprentice," she told him, "I can quickly retrieve Aranhil. He had to take Lady Amoniel to her rooms. She nearly fainted from exhaustion and grief. He felt she needed to go to her rooms to rest for a while."

"You attended to Lord Camthalion did you not?" Thranduil asked her, his intense blue gaze making her look away after a moment. Elenial nodded nervously. "Then I am asking you."

"We are trying to bring down his fever. It is still dangerously high," she explained, trying to remember every detail, "We have been using medication and ice to try to control it. But several times he has convulsed because it has been so high. Right now I am trying to improve the swelling and bruising on his face by bathing it in cool rose water."

"Has he been awake at any point?" Thranduil asked her.

"No, Aran nín," Eleniel replied, finding the ellon too intimidating to look him in the face, "He has been soundly unconscious."

"I see," Thranduil said as he took the seat she had just vacated. He reached out and took his son's over warm hand in his. It was silent in the room for a moment, the only sound was each gasping breath that Camthalion took.

"It is almost time to bring in more ice," Eleniel said, "I will go and make those arrangements."

Thranduil nodded but never took his eyes from his son. Legolas came to stand beside him and could not believe it was his brother laying on the bed. It didn't even look like him. His face was swollen and distorted. Every part of his exposed skin was covered in small wounds or bruising. Legolas was glad that the sword wound was wrapped with bandages. He wasn't sure he wanted to see all that his brother had suffered. He leaned down and kissed Camthalion's brow.

"Adar," Legolas said in a shaky voice as tears swarmed his eyes, "That fever is so high!"

"It is," Thranduil replied in a controlled and calm voice, "But we will do everything we can to bring it down. He has a severe infection so that may take some time."

"But Adar," Legolas said, "What if…"

"Your brother is strong," Thranduil said as he gently laid Camthalion's hand on the bed and took Legolas's and gave it a gentle squeeze. He looked up at Legolas's teary, disbelieving eyes. Thranduil knew he was taking the entire situation very hard and felt that currently, the infirmary wasn't the best place for him. "I want you to go and check on Amoniel. She needs someone to be with her."

Legolas took in a shaky breath. As much as he wanted to stay with his brother he was starting to feel overwhelmed again. He nodded and made his way toward the door, meeting Aranhil and Eleniel in the doorway.

"Are you well, my lord?" Aranhil asked as he looked at the visibly upset young ellon.

"Yes," Legolas replied testily, "I am going to see Amoniel."

"Good," Aranhil approved, ignoring the sharp tone, "That will do her some good. She shouldn't be so upset in her condition."

Legolas said nothing and quickly exited, feeling the need to put some distance between himself and the infirmary. He walked down the corridor toward his brother's rooms but before he could get there the sudden, unexpected flare of need hit him directly in the stomach, making him feel like he was going to vomit. He detoured to his rooms and took the small amount of powder from his pocket and quickly inhaled it. It was enough to make his discomfort go away for a short time. He sat for a quietly, allowing the powder to do its magic and make him feel stable and secure once again. Then he walked over to the wardrobe and rifled through it looking for more. He sighed dejectedly when he saw the amount that was left. He had no idea how he was going through it so quickly. It seemed to disappear as quickly as he bought it. Feeling desperate, he went through his bureau and took out all the coins he could find, placing them in his pocket. He slipped out of The Palace easily unnoticed. Most edhil were preoccupied with the tragic events of the past day to pay him any mind. He burned with shame as he quietly made his way to collect Tegalad. He knew what he was doing was reprehensible especially as his brother lay dying and his father had asked him to be with his sister in law. But as much as he wanted to see Amoniel there was someone he needed to see more.

Aranhil came to stand beside The King and reached out to place a hand on Camthalion's brow. He shook his head.

"This fever is very stubborn," he told Thranduil regrettably, "It is not responding to any of my methods. "

"Would you like me to prepare a tincture of elderflower, white willow, and carandôl?" Eleniel asked her mentor.

"If you would," Aranhil replied with an approving smile, "Put it in a tea this time. We need to try to get some more fluid into him." Eleniel nodded and went about her task. Aranhil turned back to Thranduil. "I have given him my best. I have tried everything I know to do to try to treat his injuries but my fear is that it has not been enough. He is seriously wounded and ill, my lord."

"I know," Thranduil said softly, "and I know you have done your best for my son. I can ask no more of you."

It was quiet while Eleniel brought the medication over to the bedside and patiently administered it drop by drop. Thranduil briefly closed his eyes and reached out for his bond with his eldest. Again, he had to search for it and found it faint and weak. It did not bring him any comfort and once more he found himself feeling overwhelmingly frightened. A brief, loud knock interrupted his thoughts. Aranhil opened the door to admit the servants carrying buckets of ice.

"We will surround him with ice," Aranhil told Thranduil, "I am forced to resort to external methods to bringing down this fever. It is too strong to rely on herbs alone."

"Do whatever you must do," Thranduil replied as he watched Aranhil bring the sheet up to Camthalion's chest. Then he and Eleniel took bucket after bucket of ice and surrounded Camthalion with it. Thranduil picked up the cloth that Eleniel had been using and continued to use it to bath his son's face and neck. Eleniel retrieved a fresh bowl of cold water and she and Aranhil used it to bathe The Prince's chest and extremities. Soon Camthalion started to shiver like a beaten animal. Thranduil's heart broke at the sight of it. His strong, handsome son had been beaten unrecognizable and now lay shivering helplessly and fighting for each ragged, gasping breath he took. They continued bathing him in cold water until Aranhil called them to stop, afraid of sending The Prince into shock. After he and Eleniel collected the remaining ice and wet bedding, Aranhil replaced the thin sheet covering Camthalion and covered him from the waist down.

"Eleniel, prepare another salve of niphredil and athelas," he ordered, "We need to cleanse the wound."

Eleniel did as she was bid with an able and precise hand and brought the small bowl over to her mentor. Aranhil removed the bandages from the surgical site. All three gasped as they took in the gruesome sight. Aranhil felt his heart drop. The wound was seeping blood once more. The linen they had wrapped it in was smeared with fresh blood and yellow infection. Worse yet, Camthalion's abdomen was swollen and the skin surrounding the wound was darkened and streaked red. Aranhil washed the area with another cloth infused with calendula and goldenseal and when he finished Eleniel applied the salve thickly over the stitching.

"It feels hot," she said, looking up at her mentor with a slight frown on her face, "It is the infection?"

"I am afraid so," Aranhil replied before turning to The King, "If he doesn't improve in the next few hours I am going to have to perform another surgery. This infection is very serious, my lord, and I will have to resort to manually taking it out of him if the medication can not do it on its own. This infection is one of the most severe I have ever seen and it has festered in that wound for days. It may take more invasive methods to treat it and I am not sure Lord Camthalion is strong enough to endure the treatment."

"I understand," Thranduil said, unable to tear his eyes away from the deadly wound, "I don't care what you have to do. Just do what is necessary to save his life."

"You know I will do everything within my abilities to save Our Ernil, Aran nín," Aranhil told him earnestly.

"I do. I trust no one else with his care but you, mellon nín," Thranduil told him as he watched Eleniel wrap the wound carefully in fresh bandages.

Aranhil bowed and then motioned Eleniel toward him. "We will need to go to the apothecary and replenish our supplies and prepare a few more tonics. We will return shortly. If anything happens there are healers stationed in the entrance of the infirmary."

Thranduil nodded but said nothing. He couldn't take his eyes from his son. He sank wearily back down in the chair and took Camthalion's hand in his. He stared intently at the swollen, abused face and had to blink hard several times to prevent the tears that formed in his eyes from falling. He tried to drown out the sound of each rasping, shallow gasp of breath that Camthalion fought so hard to take. Thranduil leaned forward and placed his hand on his brow. The fever seemed completely unaffected by their extensive efforts to bring it down. He lightly stroked the fevered brow in a comforting manner. What had his poor child been through? Not for the first time, Thranduil felt a wave of self loathing wash over him. Camthalion deserved a much better father than the one he received. Thranduil cursed himself yet again for not going sooner to find him, feeling as though if he had left just a couple hours before he had then his son would not be in such a critical state. As he looked down at the wretched figure in the bed he thought about how much he had come to depend on Camthalion, especially since Faelwen died. He realized with a startling jolt of shame how much he took him for granted and held him accountable to unrealistic expectations. But his responsible son never complained, was always eager to please. He always took The King's sharp criticism with good grace, always begging his forgiveness for his perceived failures and promising to do better. Thranduil suddenly realized he rarely had to command Camthalion to do anything. His considerate, dependable son always asked him how he could serve The King. He felt blessed to have been gifted such a son. Looking down at him he saw not his grown son but the little princeling that had forever changed his life and who first made him a father.

Faelwen gave a primal cry as she pushed one last time, using what remained of her waning energy. Thranduil hoped it would be enough. She had been laboring for hours and was exhausted. Their son seemed to want to stay in the warm safety of his mother's womb. But after hours of wave after painful wave of contractions and the careful attention of the healer, it seemed The Woodland Realm would finally get its Prince. A piercing cry rent through the air and Faelwen gave an exhausted sigh as she ungracefully fell the short distance back onto her pillows, looking up at Thranduil with a look of sheer happiness.

"We have a Prince," Aranhil said excitedly, his face shining with joy as he held up the small, wet wriggling infant before placing him on his mother's breast. The angry, frantic cries stopped instantly at his mother's touch. His sweet face tilted up at her with a look of peaceful recognition.

"Ada and I have been waiting for you, little one," Faelwen cooed through her tears as she stroked the smooth cheek, "You are even more beautiful than we dreamed."

The midwife rushed forward and began to clean the princeling with the soft towel, making him cry out in protest. "Allow me to clean him up, my lady," she said as she reached over and took him from his mother, unable to do anything but smile down at the newest Royal.

She returned him a couple of minutes later and placed him in his father's arms. Thranduil looked down at the infant wrapped in the blanket that his mother had painstakingly knitted for him. He ran his hand over the wet, dark hair. A sense of profound and absolute love that he had never felt before erupted from his heart and the Song that flowed from his fëa rejoiced for the existence of this innocent little being. He knew he would, without hesitation, give his own life for this precious new gift. He had never felt such an intense, paternal love like this and he knew he was never going to be the same ellon he had been only minutes before. He smiled down at the baby who was gazing back at him quietly. Thranduil drank in the small features and laughed when he the only thing he saw of himself was bright blue eyes and a miniature version of his nose.

"He looks like you, meleth," Thranduil told his wife fondly as looked over at her smiling, proud face.

"He does," Faelwen crowed proudly, "But he is going to be tall and strong like his Ada."

Thranduil leaned forward and kissed his son's brow as he had done for the very first time over 16 centuries before. Strong. That is what Faelwen had said their son would be. He hoped she was right. She usually was. His heart ached at the void of her absence and he wished she was there to help guide their son back to this side of the grave.

"Adar?"

Thranduil looked up through weary, tear filled eyes at the soft, interrupting voice. Unexpectedly, Amoniel was standing beside him looking frightened. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts he had not heard her enter the small room.

"Are you well?" Thranduil asked her, instantly getting out of the chair and guiding her into it, "I was told that you nearly fainted."

"I am fine," she assured him, "I'm just more frightened than I have ever been. It is making me feel ill."

"I am too," Thranduil admitted as he retrieved another chair from close by and placed it next to Amoniel before sitting on it, "And our little one?"

"Restless," Amoniel replied, "I think my emotions are affecting it. I am sure the baby feels a shift in the bond with Camthalion."

"You are nearly halfway through your pregnancy," Thranduil told her as he looked down at the small swell of her gown, "Surely you know by now if the child is male or female."

Amoniel smiled through her obvious sadness and brought her hands up to rest lovingly on her swollen stomach. "I do. I became aware of it just a few days ago," she said with obvious joy, "I am sure Camthalion knows too. But I will let him tell you if we are having a son or a daughter."

"I look forward to it," Thranduil replied with a smile, "Did Legolas retire to his rooms?"

"Legolas?" Amoniel said with a frown, "I was not aware he had returned."

"I sent him to check on you about an hour ago," Thranduil replied, wondering where in Arda his son could be.

"I have not seen him since he was leaving with you early yesterday morning to find Camthalion," Amoniel said.

"I see," Thranduil replied in an unreadable voice.

Amoniel watched her father in law closely for a moment. Aranhil had told her how he had given Camthalion his strength, allowing him to have the surgery he desperately needed. She knew that was the only reason her husband was still alive. But there was a flurry of emotions on Thranduil's fair face in addition to the weariness from his fëa depletion. He looked sad and riddled with guilt as he sat at the bedside and stroked Camthalion's dark hair.

"You have done everything you could possibly do, Adar," she said quietly.

"It isn't enough," Thranduil replied, never taking his eyes from his son.

"No one else could have saved him," Amoniel said, "Aranhil told me he would never have been able to operate if you hadn't done what you did."

"I am a bad father," Thranduil replied, shocking Amoniel.

She sharply turned her head to look at him with wide eyes. "What are you talking about?" she asked, confused at why he would ever think such a thing.

"I am too hard on him," Thranduil answered her, not trusting himself to look at anything but the figure in the bed as he continued to stroke the dark hair, "I demand perfection from him. I hold him accountable for things out of his control. He has the hardest, most thankless job in The Realm and he does it with a willing heart and good grace."

"He worries about you," Amoniel gently explained, "He just wants to help you by sharing your burdens, especially now that Naneth has died. He just wants to see you happy again. He loves you."

"He asks far too much of himself."

"Yes," Amoniel agreed wholeheartedly, "And he worries that he is failing you."

"That is why this is my fault. If I didn't make him feel this way he would not have felt the need to go South himself. He could have sent others to deal with the situation but he seems to hold himself responsible for every inch of Forest we lose and for the death of each soldier," Thranduil told her. She nodded in agreement. "He thinks I love Legolas more," Thranduil replied bluntly, as the guilt and remorse in his gut grew at her revelation.

"He does," Amoniel admitted quietly, "He has never said that but I can feel it in his fëa."

"It is not true," Thranduil said almost sharply as he turned to her with a look that was begging for understanding, "They are very different edhil. Legolas is so impulsive and demanding. I have had to raise him alone and I fear I have spoiled him in a most unbecoming way. Camthalion is so different. Unlike Legolas, he was able to grow up with his mother's care. He was such a good elfling. He was always so serious and responsible that he needed little guidance from his mother and me. I fear I have always let the duties of being King overshadow the duties I have to my children."

"Do not feel so!" Amoniel cried as she grabbed his hand and looked up into his face, "Both of them love you! They know well the heavy burden you carry and they do not hold it against you!"

Thranduil didn't trust himself to reply. Oropher had managed the Kingdom and he had still found time for his son. Thranduil could not help but feel he was somehow disappointing his father. It only added to the sorrow he felt for his adar's death. Instead, he sat with his melancholy thoughts and held his ailing son's hand, vowing that when he woke he would never again doubt his value or his father's love.

Hours later Aranhil concluded his examination and straightened to look at The King.

"It is as I feared, Aran nín," he said, "The medications have had little impact on this infection and fever. He is going to require another surgery to irrigate the wound again. If I don't he will probably die within a day or two."

"Then do it," Thranduil told him. After having spent every moment since he had awoken at Camthalion's bedside with Amoniel he was not surprised at the healer's assessment.

"I fear he is not strong enough to have such an invasive procedure," Aranhil replied gravely, "This infection has run unchecked for days. I have no idea how long he laid out on the Path in the elements but it was long enough for this infection to take a strong hold on him. He hasn't eaten since before they were ambushed so he is very weak. I can not keep him hydrated. I can not control his intense fever."

Thranduil briefly closed his eyes. He tried to push away the vision of his son convulsing due to his high fever. The first time he had witnessed it he had been terrified and each time afterward as the day waned it still startled him. He knew Aranhil was not exaggerating. It was obvious his son was dying.

"So doing nothing will kill him and if you operate the treatment will kill him?" Amoniel asked incredulously.

"I am afraid so, my lady," Aranhil said with a slight dip of his head, "I am so very sorry."

"What about administering more miruvor?" Amoniel asked.

"I have been dosing him with everything I can," Aranhil answered her, "I have given him herbs to strengthen him. I have made tonic after tonic to treat his fever and battle the infection and to stop the convulsions. I have even given him herbs to increase the potency of the medications. I have tried external methods. This infection and fever simply will not respond. The only other treatment available is another surgery."

"If he could have the surgery will he survive?" Amoniel asked in a quivering voice.

"I can not guarantee that," Aranhil replied honestly, "But I do believe if he would benefit from another surgery."

"Then I will lend him strength through our bond," Amoniel said firmly.

Aranhil opened his mouth to protest but Thranduil beat him to it." No!" he replied, "You can not do that in your condition!"

"He is right, my lady," Aranhil said as Amoniel looked ready to argue, "You are incubating Life. That is requiring most of your energy. You will not have any to spare Lord Camthalion."

"But.." Amoniel started to say but burst into tears, "But…"

"I will do it," Thranduil said firmly.

"I do not advise that my lord," Aranhil replied, "You have already depleted your energy and you still have not fully recovered from it."

"I don't care," Thranduil said fervently, "You just said that my son needs this surgery to survive and he can't have the surgery without him having another transfer of fëar energy. I will do it. I don't care what happens to me as long as Camthalion survives."

"But Aran nín! I don't..." Aranhil started to argue.

"I am not asking you if you advise it," Thranduil snapped, talking over the healer, "I am simply telling you that I am going to do it with or without your approval."

Aranhil nodded. "As you command, my lord," he said meekly, "We will make the preparations and should be ready to operate within the hour. You are going to need more miruvor and alfirin."

Thranduil nodded as he watched Aranhil bow to him before motioning his young apprentice to follow him out of the door.

"Adar are you certain?" Amoniel asked through her tears.

"Absolutely."

"But what if this kills you?" Amoniel asked him as she reached over and grabbed his hand.

"Then it kills me," he replied seemingly unconcerned about himself, "I have lived a long life. But Camthalion's years are short compared to mine. He is needed here far more than I am. He is about to be a father and his child deserves to grow up with its father."

"I am afraid," Amoniel wept, unable to contain her sobs any longer, "For Camthalion...and for you."

"There is nothing to be afraid of," Thranduil said as he pulled her to his chest in a paternal embrace, "I have survived dragon fire. A little exhaustion pales in comparison to that. Pay Aranhil no mind. I have known him for several millennia. He tends to fall prey to theatrics."

"I'm still frightened that it won't be enough," Amoniel sobbed into his chest, "Look at Camthalion. I have never seen anyone so hurt before."

"I will do all that I possibly can to ensure he has the best chance of survival. I promised you I would bring him home and now I am promising you that if required I will gladly give my life for his. I promise you, you will not be a widow. The two of you will have an immortal lifetime together."

Amoniel could not reply and continued to weep. "I love you, Adar," she said between sobs once she could catch her breath.

"And I love you, iell nín," he said before giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, "Now, go and rest in your rooms until the surgery is over. You are upset again and that is not good for you or the baby. I will have Aranhil send for you when he is finished."

Amoniel nodded. She went to the bedside and kissed Camthalion's dry, fever cracked lips before turning with resolve and walking toward the door.

"If you see Legolas please send him to me," Thranduil bid as he watched her go, "and don't worry. Everything will be fine."

"Yes, Adar," Amoniel said as she gave him a forced smile before giving her husband once last, long look filled with worry. She took a deep breath and closed the door quietly behind her.

"Eleniel."

The young apprentice looked up at the sound of her name, stopping momentarily in her patient efforts to give Prince Camthalion yet another tonic of alfirin and miruvor.

"Come and attend," Aranhil bid her as he quickly sterilized the exposed area with a strong infusion of goldenseal and calendula.

Eleniel looked from her mentor to the healer standing across from him with wide eyes. "You believe I am ready?"

"Yes," Aranhil told her with a gentle smile, "You have been assisting with Our Ernil since his father brought him back home. You have earned the right of attending this second surgery."

Eleniel handed the tonic to the healer who smiled encouragingly at her as she took the vial and took over giving Camthalion the medication. Eleniel took her place opposite of Aranhil and smiled nervously at him.

"Don't worry, penneth. If I didn't think you were ready I would have asked you to attend," Aranhil told her, "Now, I have cleaned the area and we are ready to begin."

Eleniel nodded and took a deep breath, wishing she felt as confident as Aranhil seemed to be.

"I'm here and I will step in and take charge if I need to," Aranhil assured her when he saw her nervously biting her lip and looking overwhelmed.

"I can't do it!" she cried as fresh tears pooled in her eyes, "I'm afraid I will hurt him!"

"You won't harm him," Aranhil replied gently, "I will be right here to guide you. You have performed wonderfully so far. I am confident in your abilities."

Eleniel shook her head in disbelief as she looked down at the ill ellon on the bed.

"Eleniel, look at me," Aranhil commanded her. He waited until she obeyed before continuing. "I understand that you are scared and nervous," he said seriously, looking her straight in the eyes, "But what happens to Lord Camthalion if you do nothing?"

"He will die," Eleniel whispered as she glanced at The Prince's abused face, "and The King's sacrifice will have been in vain."

"Yes," Aranhil agreed, "So we must push our fear aside and do what must be done to save Lord Camthalion. He is dependent on us to tend to his injuries. The King trusts us with the care of his son which is something he does not do lightly."

Eleniel looked back up at Aranhil for a long moment before she nodded again, this time with resolve and determination. "What do I need to do?"

"We need to start by opening the wound," Aranhil said as he handed her a small pair of scissors, "Don't worry. I am here and I will guide you one step at a time."

Eleniel took them and easily snipped each of the sutures. The wound instantly opened up and looked at as though they had not operated the day before. There was no change in the wound despite their diligent efforts to regularly cleanse it and the salves they had meticulously placed on it each time they had cleaned it.

"Now clear out the infection," Aranhil told her, "Use athelas and yarrow soaked cloths."

Eleniel took a deep breath and tried to ignore the horrible smell the wound was emitting. She reached over and took a strip of clean cloth and dipped it into the warm water that had a strong infusion of the antiseptic herbs. Aranhil reached over and held the wound open. With hands now only slightly shaking she reached in and started the long process of cleaning all visible infection. Her stomach turned as warm blood and infection pooled around her fingers. But she pushed it aside. This poor ellon needed her and she had to try to heal his hurts.

"It looks as bad as it did yesterday," Eleniel observed as she tossed yet another soiled cloth to the floor.

"Yes," Aranhil agreed, "This infection is severe and the poison only served to complicate matters. But while he is bleeding more than I would like it has improved from yesterday."

"I am not seeing any poison in here," Eleniel commented as she cleaned up the last of the visible infection.

"I am confident we removed what had remained," Aranhil replied, "Now let's irrigate the wound."

"Athelas and yarrow?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, "That will cleanse the area and promote healing. Hold the wound open for me and I will pour it in."

Eleniel did as he asked her and watched as he poured the warm liquid in the gaping wound. She watched as more infection instantly rose to the surface.

"Help me turn him," Aranhil said as he gripped the slim, pale torso.

Eleniel pushed The Prince toward Aranhil and watched as the wound emptied most of the infection laden water onto the thick towels that Aranhil had placed along his side.

"There is still more to be removed," she observed, peering into the open wound.

"Correct," Aranhil told her as he stepped over to get another bowl of water, "We need to do this until there is no more visible infection."

Eleniel nodded. They repeated the process countless times until the water that ran from the wound was only tinged with bright, red blood.

"I think it's time to close the wound," she suggested though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Very good," Aranhil approved as he handed her a clean, dry cloth, "Remove any remaining water pooled in the wound."

Eleniel gently blotted at the small amount of water that was unable to escape the wound when they had irrigated it.

"What do you see?"

"I don't see any visible infection," Eleniel told him, "His intestines look intact and are where they should be." Aranhil nodded. "What about the skin around the wound? It is still dark."

"Due to the poison and the infection his flesh was starting to decompose," Aranhil explained as he pointed to the unhealthy areas, "It will look like this until the infection is under control and he is able to begin to heal. It doesn't look worse than it did yesterday and that is an encouraging sign. Now, stitch him up while I prepare a salve of niphredil and athelas."

Eleniel quickly set about threading the needle and started to stitch the angry flesh back together. After a few sutures, she noticed that her hands were not shaking anymore. She finished stitching up the wound with a more confident hand and smiled when Aranhil complimented her technique. She took the salve from him and thickly smeared it over the row of sutures. She stepped back and observed the wound. Only a very small amount of blood escaped through the stitching but it did not drip through the salve. Satisfied, she nodded and helped Aranhil wrap the wound.

"What do you recommend now?" Aranhil asked her.

"Continuing the treat the fever with elderflower and white willow bark in combination with cold compresses," Eleniel told him, "Using skullcap and mugwort if he continues to convulse. I would also give him a strong tonic of miruvor and carandôl to help build him up so he can fight the infection."

"Excellent," Aranhil replied, smiling with approval, "Now I will leave you to see to that and I will attend to The King."

Amoniel went over to the table and thoroughly washed her bloody hands before setting about mixing up the tonics that she would need. Aranhil washed his hands in the basin beside her.

"I forgot to mention, penneth," he said with a mischevious grin, "But the smell will be on your hands for days no matter how much you wash them."

He laughed outright at the startled look on her face that quickly changed to disgust as she brought her slender hands to her face and sniffed.

"Lovely."

Chuckling, he walked toward the door then looked back at his apprentice. Eleniel was now busily measuring out the ingredients, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"You did well, penneth," he told her with a smile, "I know I am leaving Our Ernil in good hands."

Eleniel smiled proudly as she looked up from her work. Aranhil opened the door and stepped out into the quiet corridor. He leaned against it for a long moment. He was exhausted. He had been attending to Lord Camthalion since he had been brought to the infirmary since the previous afternoon. He was going to require some rest soon but he knew Thranduil needed his attention. He walked the short distance to the room next door and took a deep breath. Twice now Thranduil had depleted his fëa of nearly all of his strength. Aranhil had never heard of anyone giving so much energy in such a short period of time and he was unsure of what effect it would have on The King. As he reached for the doorknob a sudden thought hit him. Where was Lord Legolas?

TBC...

Author's Note: Sorry for leaving it here with yet another mild cliff hanger but this chapter was nearing 7,000 words. The next chapter is about halfway finished. I have been moving things around a little as my muse seems to keep taking this in different directions. I was going back and editing some previous chapters and I had to laugh when in Chapter 10 I said this story would conclude in about 10 more chapters. Well here were are 11 chapters later and it is perhaps halfway complete! LOL

A HUGE thank you to all who took their time to leave a review or send me a PM! I treasure each and every one of them! I am also grateful for all of the new followers!

Elvish Translation:

iell=daughter