Elrond's strong arms shook violently as he ripped the clothes from the body of his son. Life was a blur. He didn't know what he was doing, but his hands moved with skill as he desperately tried to save his son.
On the inside he was falling apart. Fear was overwhelming. It seized his mind. He was on autopilot. Years upon years of training and practice guided his movements. It all felt like a dream. Like he was falling. Like he was slipping into an endless, unconscious dance. Tears fell from his cheeks mingling with the sweat now dripping down his nose. His heart raced at a feverish pace. His fingers stayed strong, however. His hands moved with able grace as they tended to the slash marring his son's body.