There was a sound, a distant yelling, a moaning closer and not as loud, a fearful pause in his body as if it was waiting for a signal… and a warm sensation in his hand. The yelling stopped, the moaning got louder…

'Easy, friend. It's over now. The worst is over, you're safe.'

Safe.

He wasn't safe; nobody in the entire world was safe; there were orcs and worse than their cruelty was the darkness they brought with them, the evil that invaded your heart and tainted your mind and lingered in your dreams…

Suddenly, as if the signal had sounded somewhere in his body, he hissed in his breath and a numbness filled him seconds ahead of a wave of pain. It was everywhere; his face, his body, his shoulder…

'Just keep still.' The warm sensation increased – someone squeezing his hand. 'The healer's coming. Until then, you must keep still or they'll have to tie you down.'

'Can't…I can't see…'

He had to force out the words; his mouth was dry and scratchy, the sound of his own voice alien and rough.

'Your face is covered, you were hurt,' the other said. 'It's all right… you will, you'll be all right, the healers say.'

'Who are you?'

'I'm… friend of a friend. He sat with you, when you were carried off the field, and when they brought you here, he… like I was doing, he took your hand when you were… disturbed. And water, he gave you water, when the healers asked.'

'Ah. Who…?'

'Tumb… Tumblestone, he said you'd know.'

Thiriston smiled. It made his face hurt, but thinking about Tumblestone coming to see him made up for it.

'All the way down,' the elf said, 'he watched you. Kept asking, did we think you were like him, did we think he'd have a chance… some said, why'd he want to, you being so… well. But he said, you're just quiet. And he really liked you, so… I was glad you took to him. It meant a lot to him, and…'

'How long have I been here?'

'Four days.'

'Four days…?'

'They kept you sleeping.'

'And Tumblestone? No offence, this is good of you, but… is he coming back…?'

'None taken, but no. He isn't. Third day, he… oh, yesterday, only then… but he went into battle singing. You made a difference to him. It was quick, I know that's what they say about everyone, but I know, I… I saw.'

'Dead, then?'

'Yes.' The elf sighed and let go of his hand at the sound of someone approaching. 'I am sorry, he was a good elf to know. The healer's here now.'

'Thank you… will… will you come again?'

'No, I don't think so. Sorry. I just… he wanted you to be told, if something happened. Be well. Get well, be well, and remember Tumblestone.'

'Please?'

But there was a silence, an emptiness that told him the elf had gone. After a heartbeat or two came a new voice, a different touch, feeling at his wrist.

'I am one of the healers here, we were hoping you would wake today… you will be thirsty and hungry, perhaps, but it is important you do not try to move, do you understand?'

'Yes, I… but why?'

'You've been injured and moving will stress the bindings covering your injuries. Now, here is water, slowly, just a little…'

The water was cool, trickling around his mouth as much into it. A taint to it.

'What…?'

'We will need to change the dressings. There is relief from pain in the water.'

'Make me sleep again?'

'It shouldn't.' Another voice, this one female. Assured. 'Thank you, Hosdir. You can go to the ellyn in Shelter Three now. I'll attend our brave Thiriston here.'

'You know me?'

'Indeed I do. Everyone knows Thiriston, who fights with an axe and knives and who tried to save our king… but the elf who brought your belongings called you 'Shout' and, indeed, that is how I first knew you…'

'I… should remember, your voice is…'

'Well, voices do change… but you knew me as Lightstep.'

'Ah. Long ago. Caraneth?'

'Yes, indeed, although I am Nestoril now, as I said I would become. Now, if you promise not to move, I'll uncover your face…'

'Promise.'

It was difficult, though, not to flinch as the dressings moved against his face, not to lift his hand to scratch the strange, painful itch he could feel. But it was done, and he was blinking away his inner eyelids and actually able to see Lightstep-Nestoril as she smiled down at him.

'There! Yes, you are healing well. At least, your face is. And you can see clearly?'

'Think so. Bit sore, but… what else is up with me?'

The healer smiled, although it didn't seem an entirely happy expression.

'This is the point at which I usually tell my charges they are doing well, and I make reassuring noises and leave them with a vague sense that they will be fine, but none the wiser as to their actual injuries. But, Shout, you are my friend and I would like to just once say exactly how things stand.'

'That bad, is it? No, I can take it.'

'I know you can.' With a sigh she lowered herself to sit on the edge of his pallet. 'You seem to have been hit twice in the face, the second time harder than the first…'

'Only remember the first one.'

'Yes. Your nose is broken, and some of the small bones around your eye sockets and cheeks. But they have begun to knit well – it is a good thing you do not talk very much, you see. I am afraid, with the extreme damage, we could not set the nose, but you will be able to breathe through it.'

'That's good. Never was pretty, anyway.'

'Well, I always thought you were quite attractive, in your own way. And so you shall be still.'

'Doesn't matter. Shoulder, there was an arrow…'

'Yes, and you had broken off the shaft, which was a good move. That's gone, and the tip wasn't poisoned… you had two more arrows in you, though; upper left arm and left thigh.'

'Can't feel the leg wound.'

'That's good. Because there is a more serious injury across your belly and we are keeping you numb. In all honesty, nobody thought you would survive, Shout.'

'Remember that, remember being split by something. Orc scimitar?'

'I think that's what they said. The ones who brought you off the field. They say you were trying to get to our king; you are something of a hero, you know.'

'No, a failure. He's dead, couldn't save him. Couldn't even get to him.'

'But you tried.' She patted his hand. 'Anyway, we have stitched the two parts of you back together, and nothing major was damaged, by some wonder.'

'How goes the fight?'

'I do not know; we are some way from the battle lines. It is better so. The injured are not reminded of their experiences, and the soldiers are not made to think that they, too, could be hurt. Now,' she went on, her tone becoming brisker. 'You will be some time here. There may well be other injured elves brought to this tent; at present, you are alone, of course, but wagons of injured warriors are brought daily. You will be glad to hear your axe is safe; you were still attached to it when they brought you in. Of course, I cannot allow weapons on my wards, but it is in safekeeping, as are your other things. Your friend – Tumblestone, he called himself – packed up your campaign tent and such and brought them. I like him, he seems very fond of you.'

'Dead,' Thiriston said shortly. 'Elf came earlier and told me.'

'Oh, I…' The healer broke off as tears began to track down Shout's face and his shoulders shook. Knowing better than to interrupt, she kept silent until he settled again. 'You did not know him long, he told me. But sometimes, that does not matter.'

'Night before battle, he came over, talked to me. We were… we…' Thiriston shook his head. Maybe this wasn't something he should discuss with a nice elleth like Lightstep.

'Love is love, Thiriston,' she said softly. 'And I have never thought it wrong for love to be expressed, no matter whom. I am sorry he was taken from you so soon.'

'Just chance-met. Liked him, liked him a lot, but… not sure where it would have gone.'

'The battlefield is a strange place,' she told him. 'People leave their lives behind, and almost never expect to return to them. Some find comfort in comrades whom they would never have sought in peace time. It is known, it is accepted as the way of things. But some… some find it a relief, a chance to express themselves as they truly are for once, without shame or fear. I was going to look at your other injuries before the wagon gets here, but if you would like to be alone for a little while, I can come back.'

'No, I… don't want to be alone, not just now.'

'Very well. You will need to draw on your courage, for this may be unpleasant.'

'What do you mean un…? ah!'

Nestoril had drawn away the covers across Thiriston's body and just that action had been enough to send waves of pain through his left leg from knee to hip and beyond.

'You were…' oh, you were battered, when they saw you racing to the king, running over them, they hit you with everything they had, so the knights of Imladris told me… and when you were felled, they kept on, so much hate… 'There were several blows to your leg, also, and while nothing was broken, much was bruised and… and so it is sensitive, but I could not dress the bruises.' She gasped apologetically as she began to lift the dressing from his midsection. 'There are not enough bindings, and we are making the best use we can of what we have.'

Thiriston sucked in a breath and swore it out again as the healer probed his injury.

'I am sorry, oh, I am sorry, but I have to make sure… we feared there may be infection to the wound, and so I have to manipulate… but it looks to be healing cleanly.' She replaced the dressing with a fresh pad. 'And I have a drink for you, just water, I promise, this time.'

'Can I sit up?'

'Not yet, the sides of your wound are not sufficiently knitted at present. If it were to gape, you would bleed, and you have already lost far more blood than was good for you. But drink.'

She finished her work, laid the covers back over his legs with all the care she could, and lifted his head a little so he could take a few mouthfuls of water.

'When will I be fit again? For the fight?'

A sigh.

'I am not sure you will be well enough for some time,' she told him. 'In fact, those they bring to me here, they do not expect them to return to battle.'

'If I can't fight…'

'There are other ways you can serve your king, without taking up arms,' she told him. 'But all that is for the future, anyway. For now, you must rest. Sleep, if you can.'