Harune heard voices. Careful not to awaken Thranduil, he slid out from under the blankets and stretched in the cool air. It was early dawn by the light outside the windows for he had not closed the curtains the night before. He sighed; he had been too tired. All his life the little things were what he had offered his family as a constant reminder to them and himself he was there. Last night—only one thing mattered.

Oropher turned his head and met Harune's eyes. Harune looked away. Regret pinched him. He ran a hand over his hair to help settle the unbidden anger that heated him as the door opened and Hyrondal announced, "Jailil."

The young healer stepped into the room still shrouded under a heavy cloak. He abandoned the cloak on the floor as he summed up Thranduil and Oropher's pale faces.

"After Thranduil left, Ailunai had a vision. She said I was needed," Jailil said. He rolled up his sleeves, tried not to bite his lip. "I came as fast as I could."

"This!" Oropher gasped. "This is what I am sent in my hour of need? An untrained child?"

"I regret your choice of words, my king," Jailil replied. "I am not a child."

"He is right," Onyx said wearily from the doorway. "You are not fully trained, Jailil. Thranduil and Oropher are both injured most seriously."

Jailil lifted his chin. "I am the healer you have. Avaron said I was ready."

"Are you?"

Jailil looked from Thranduil's face melding white into the sheets to Harune. He squared his shoulders. "I am."

"Then tell us what to do."

Responsibility surged through Jailil. He felt it in every bone. He knew what to do from watching Avaron and now, instead of being the one at Avaron's side, he stood in Avaron's place. He went for Thranduil first. No time to hesitate. No time to doubt. He stripped away bandages, cut through the temporary stitches, and summed up the depth of the jagged cuts he faced with a few feels of his hand.

Reddish water seeped into the sheets as Jailil washed the first wound and bathed it in water seeped with kindly herbs. Then the needle flowed in his hands and the stitches followed, each identical to the next and barely a fingernail's sliver apart. He sewed expertly through layers of flesh until the cut was closed. He plastered the taunt skin with a paste of herbs and secured a generous bandage.

Thranduil's lack of response told Jailil the elf was dreaming in a world far removed from consciousness as he tackled the cut in Thranduil's shoulder. The smaller cuts and scrapes he hummed through before he stepped back to wash his hands. He instructed Hyrondal to make a tea and help Onyx change the sheets on Thranduil's bed.

Thranduil settled. Jailil turned to Oropher.

"Jailil," Harune said quietly. His tone said everything.

"Harune," Jailil replied. "My life is to heal. I will not deny that calling."

Working with a patient far from unconsciousness dampened Jailil's stride, but he moved swiftly from injury to injury whilst Oropher chomped on a stick. His fingers began to grow numb from pinching the small needle and he slowed to stop himself making a mistake.

The final stitch in place, he rinsed his hands and tied back his hair as it threatened to come loose from its tie. Hyrondal and Harune came with a pitcher of herbal tea. Oropher drank his and submitted to the sleeping influence of too much valerian.

The mess he had created in his wake disheartened him. Red splotches on the floor and a pile of discarded bandages and thread were no easy task to clean. No one here to do the work but him.

Jailil started as he realized Hyrondal and Harune's eyes were on him. Of course, he was the healer. They needed his verdict.

"They will live," Jailil said. He hid his suddenly shaking hands behind his back. "They both need rest and food and tea to help build up the blood they lost. This is not the best place for rest, but they are both too weak to travel."

"We will make do," Harune said.

"Oropher is suffering from shock," Jailil added. "When Natelle died, it—it ripped him apart. I suppose—he really loved her—to feel such grief at her violent passing."

Harune smiled slowly. "Yes. Love is curious thing. Thank you."

Jailil relaxed in Harune's hug. He clenched his hands involuntarily on the back of Harune's robe, suddenly missing Avaron. He feared he had made a mistake; sewed shut the wrong tissues, missed a tear perhaps, yet he could not ignore the assurance he had felt holding the needle.

Jailil found it laughable healers wore white as he looked down at his bespattered robe and met Harune's bemused eyes. Avaron, he realized, had mastered the art of staying clean in the impossible. He glanced at Thranduil and Oropher asleep as he quickly cleaned the room. Leaving Harune restlessly watchful, he found his way to the kitchens.

Dim and in disarray, Jailil made a space for himself near the fireplace and set copper pots to boil. As he uncapped jars and measured handfuls of herbs into the hot water, Hyrondal wandered in and sat down on an empty space on one of the wooden counters.

"It is strange to feel like you rule the world," Hyrondal said. "Out there in the woods—I was never so alive. Nothing could stop me. Not even myself."

Jailil raised his eyebrows. "Yesterday I would have said it impossible you came away with your life and practically unharmed. But after feeling so sure of myself with the needle in my hand—I suppose there comes a time when we stop needing reassurance from our teachers. We trust ourselves."

"Still," Hyrondal said, smiling cheekily, "Reassurance is always welcome."

Jailil capped the bottle in his hand. "You should rest."

"So should you."

"A healer's work does not end easily," Jailil replied.

Hyrondal snorted. He slid off the countertop and trailed away. Jailil found a wooden spoon and vigorously stirred his tea mixes. As he stirred a girl with dull red hair tied back in a bun walked into the room. She wore the black and white garb of a servant and clasped her hands as Jailil turned to look at her.

"I am Delya," she said. "I do not know what to do."

"Are you in training?"

"My mentor was killed in the attack," Delya explained.

"Well," Jailil said. He grinned. "The place is yours now. Do as you will."

A twinkle came into Delya's black eyes. "I may see what we have in the larder. I believe we could all use a good meal."

"How right you are," Jailil remarked. "I am starving."

As night came and Harune left Thranduil's bedside to see what could be salvaged from the rubble, frogs settled in the muddy banks alongside the conflicting forest streams and rent the air with their voices. The stars hung low in the sky. Hyrondal and Onyx fought over the hours of their guard positions on the broken roof of the summerhouse. A lull in the frog voices and suddenly the silence screamed with possibility of swampi.

The dawn broke without the striking of a single clock and Thranduil opened his eyes in a room alone. He lay on his side and stared at the white wall, feeling eyes on him from behind. He stared for two minutes before he found the courage to look over his shoulder. He winced as he settled onto his left side.

The blanket slid off his shoulder and pain spread through his ribs. Thranduil closed his eyes until the swelling nausea passed. When he opened them, he met Oropher's blue eyes.

Thranduil hesitated, fighting the urge to shut his eyes and block out everything. Oropher lay in silence, his hands clasped over the fawn-colored blanket drawn to his waist, his head turned toward Thranduil on his pillows.

Thranduil swallowed and almost coughed; his throat was dry. His voice whispered hollowly and grew stronger. "I am sorry—about Natelle."

Oropher shook his head. "You never cared for her."

Thranduil's lips pinched flat. He looked toward the ceiling as anger lit up in him and danced with the pain. He turned to Oropher. "I never lie. It is true I did not see Natelle as a mother, but I am sorry she is gone. For you. Did you love her?"

Oropher blinked suddenly. "Yes. She was my life."

"That is all that matters to me."

The room sank into silence battling between hostility and peace. Thranduil tried to sit up against the headboard of his bed and regretted it as purple spots filled his eyes. He clenched his teeth against the grunts his wounds tore out of him.

The door opened and Jailil walked in briskly. He introduced the woman behind him as he helped Thranduil sit up. "This is Delya." She put a bowl of soup into Thranduil's lap.

"Do not eat too swiftly," Jailil warned, as Thranduil sipped off a spoon. The healer put a mug of tea off Delya's tray and put it within Thranduil's reach on a small table.

Jailil approached Oropher with a bowl of soup in hand. "How do you feel, my king?"

"Weak," Oropher replied. He sat up slowly and accepted the soup.

"Where is ada?" Thranduil asked faintly. "Why are you here, Jailil? I thought—thought you were at the palace."

"I was," Jailil answered. "Ailunai sent me after you. She sensed I would be needed."

Thranduil smiled suddenly at her name. "Yes . . . she would."

Jailil hesitated before he added, "Harune—there were bodies to bury. We intend to return to the palace within the next few days. We need—you need—the attentions of proper healers and a fully stocked apothecary to receive the care you need."

"You saved my life, Jailil," Thranduil said. "Our lives. You saved—our lives. I will not soon forget that."

Jailil smiled. "Drink your tea, Thranduil. Come, Delya, I respectfully solicit your presence in the kitchen."

Thranduil sipped his tea after Jailil left, glad it tasted of bee balm, its spice mellowed by honey. Unexplained tears welled in his eyes. He let them fall and dampen the front of his loose shirt. The salt dried on his cheeks. He fell asleep. His empty mug rolled off the bed.

Harune caught it.

"It is possible," Oropher said, as Harune put the mug on the bedside table. "You raised him better than I thought."

Harune sank down on the bed beside Thranduil and took the elf's clenched hand. At his touch, Thranduil's fingers uncurled and settled in Harune's palm. His breathing deepened.

"If you are correct, my king," Harune answered, "I am glad you begin to see it."

Silent readers! If you feel so called, I would love to interact with you!

Thanks kindly for reading. Your enthusiasm and enjoyment of this story, especially in the ways you find parallels between My Prince and your lives, keep me writing in all the ways I can.

Next Chapter: Thranduil and Oropher? Roommates?