- Chapter 32 -
Ironically she thought about all of her nursing classes, and thanked the heavens that she studied so hard in college. Despite the fact she didn't technically graduate with any sort of degree, the information she had poured over most certainly came in handy, and as she found her rhythm she took each new case in stride. By the time she reached her last patient, Shyloh was exhausted. She had stitched, sewn, patched, cleansed, washed, and scrubbed more times than she could count. The beds were full and yet there were still those that needed help. Opting to having patients sit on chairs, she bandaged up arms, legs, feet, and heads; she straightened broken fingers, set broken bones, and even pulled a couple of teeth. Men, women, children... The list was never ending.
Now she knew what dragon ravaged survivors looked like.
Galdiron and Shyloh worked side by side as if they'd been doing it for years instead of a day, and when they had seen the last urgent patient he gave her shoulder a pat as he moved down the rows to double check those he stitched up earlier. Moving towards the back of the tent, she held her hands out while one of the healer's aids poured water over them. She scrubbed the blood away and within no time, the water in the basin was a murky reddish brown. Her latest patients head needed to be reopened so she could properly clean it before infection worked its way in, and as all head wounds did, it bled profusely.
She'd stopped the bleeding, stitched it back up, applied the proper herbs to heal it and carefully bandaged his head back up. An aged hand reached up for hers and he surprised her by giving her fingers a squeeze and a pat; his dull grey eyes meeting hers with an expression of gratitude. She gave him a sympathetic smile, but that was all she could do, for words had utterly escaped her that day.
As she wiped her clean hands on a towel, she handed it back to the aid and straightened up. Hands on her hips, she looked back down the beds on her side and pursed her lips together. She couldn't help but wonder just how many hadn't survived the wrath of the dragon, and her heart filled with pity. Sighing, she was just about to do another round when Sidhel stepped up to her, his face drawn into a tight frown. He'd stayed out of her way throughout the day, never saying anything while she worked, and to be honest she'd completely forgotten about him until now.
"My Lady, you need to eat something," he said quietly but she shook her head.
"I'm not done here," she said, and her eyes flicked towards the first few beds where her most injured patients lay. She tucked a few loose strands of her braid behind her ear.
"You'll be no good to them if you don't eat something and take some rest," he argued quietly. "You have been at this for hours and the sun is starting to wane."
"I'm not done," she said determinedly and his mouth formed a thin line. Had they really been at this all day? Sure enough, the light outside was dimming and torches and lanterns were being lit and hung around the courtyard.
"Shyloh," Galdiron said as he approached the two of them. Turning around, he stepped up to her side. "Sidhel is right, you need to go and eat and get some rest. I'll follow shortly as soon as I finish my last patient. The aid's will keep an eye and let you know if your needed."
She looked like she might argue so Galdiron held up a hand to stop her. "All will be well, I assure you," then he turned to look at her patients. "I'm impressed with your work. I think Lord Elrond would be proud."
Pride swelled in her chest but still, there was so much that needed to be done. She did not want to quit but they were clearly against her continuing, and arguing would only upset their patients.
Shoulders sagging, she let go a defeated sigh. "Alright," she said, and Galdiron chuckled.
"That's the spirit of a true healer, but taking care of yourself is just as important, otherwise you can not in good faith, take care of them."
She rolled her eyes towards him and he chuckled again. Patting her shoulder, he walked back down the line.
She turned to face Sidhel and crossed her arms; frowning unhappily. "Fine. You win this time, but don't get used to it." Turning on her heel, she led the way out of the tent, a bemused guard following closely behind.
Outside the tent, the air had cooled and she sucked in a deep breath. All day the smell of blood and oozy wounds filled her nose, and she only just realized how much it must have smelled in there.
The torches were being lit all down the streets but dark shadows were creeping into the corners of the city. Off in the distance, echoing through the streets, the sounds of guards marching in unison and the clash of metal on metal told her there might be training going on in different areas of the city. It only made her grow even more scared for her dwarves. She did not want to see a single one of them hurt, or the elves, but the thought that the negotiations could go poorly set her mind on edge. Her work in the healing tents provided a good distraction from her troubled thoughts, but now that she left her charges behind in the care of the aids until it was time for her next round, the heaviness of the current situation pressed down on her even more.
She followed Eithrien as she led the way towards the smell of food but they didn't make it far before a messenger caught up to them.
"Sidhel," the tall elf said when they stopped. "The King asks that the Lady be brought to his tent promptly once she has cleaned up."
Sidhel frowned but nodded. "Thank you, Laimen," he said, and with a curt nod from the messenger, the ellon disappeared as if he were off on another errand.
Sighing, Sidhel took over and redirected their small company by turning down a different side street. "You can change and wash up in your tent, then we will head to see the King," he said and she could tell he wasn't happy about their change in plans.
"Whatever you say," she said tiredly and he gave her an observing look.
Shyloh wasn't happy either. Her feet and back hurt and she was hungry. It had been an extremely long day, and she hoped and prayed that whatever the King wanted to see her about wasn't anything major, and she hoped he wouldn't have a tent full of advisers...or Lords.
Once they reached her tent, Eithrian closed the flap behind the two of them and shook out a bundle while Shyloh washed her face and hands. The long dark blue dress was much like the one she wore only a few nights ago, except the silver sleeves matched the trim and stitching. Shyloh stripped from her slightly bloodied clothes, and Eithrian graciously helped a reluctant Princess into it this time. Before Shyloh could even grab the end of her braid, Eithrian was already pulling the tie out of it and shaking out the locks.
"You are not my maid, Eithrian," she said but the guard just shrugged.
"I do not mind helping my Lady. You have already had a long day, and I fear you might not get to come back for rest so quickly. Meetings with the King are never quick affairs."
"You have had just as long a day standing guard over me," Shyloh said quietly.
"It's a pleasure to help you, though I am afraid it hardly makes up for my error the last time," Eithrian said almost hesitantly.
"You have nothing to apologize for. It was just an honest mistake."
"Thank you. By the way, I really do love your hair."
"Honestly, it's such a pain and never cooperates."
Eithrian laughed softly. "It's a nice change up from straight and obedient."
It was Shyloh's turn to smile, and then she adjusted the collar of the dress and fixed the necklace that rested against her collarbone so it was centered on her neck.
Her eyes fell on her bow and sword tucked in the corner of the tent behind Eithrian, and she was comforted by the sight of them, however, despite wanting to shoulder them it would have been impractical with this get up on. She folded her clothes and set them on the end of the cot and tucked her boots in the corner. Only after Eithrian smoothed out her skirts and finished brushing her hair, did she declare Shyloh was finally presentable.
Stepping outside, she fell into step next to Eithrian while the others followed; her white curls bouncing as she walked. If the guard's eyes lingered on her a little longer than usual, she didn't notice; but Sidhel did and he gave them a stern warning look. They made their way down the street until the peeks of the yellow tent came into view. Surrounded by guard's, the King's tent was lit with torchlight but she could hardly see inside until they drew closer, and then she froze so quickly Tinnion almost walked right into her.
Whatever she expected to see was quickly erased from her mind when the familiar blue-grey eyes of a certain wizard grew wide, and he sighed heavily with relief at the sight of her.
"Gandalf?" she cried in disbelief, and then she darted forwards. "What on earth are you doing here?"
The wizard shifted uncomfortably and gave her a weak smile. "I have never been more happy to see you," he breathed.
Once she stepped inside the tent, she got a much better look at him and she stopped in her tracks. He looked terrible. Parts of his robes were torn and his face had bruises and scratches on it, as if he'd just gone through a fight. They looked like they were healing but still, he looked tired.
"What happened to you!" she demanded.
He gave her an exasperated smile. "Well, the story is quite long and I am afraid now is not the time to hear it."
"Seriously you just disappeared and that was it! No news, no nothing!" she snapped hotly.
"I know you're upset my dear," he sighed. "But now is not the time for stories."
"I believe Mithrandir had something urgent to speak about, but he refused to continue until he made sure you were quite safe, as I already assured him you were." Thranduil's cool voice made her snap her mouth shut and she twisted around. The King sat in his flowing silver and red robes in a high backed chair and he gave Gandalf a very pointed look. "She has been assisting Galdiron in the healing tents for the majority of the day."
Bard sat in a seat across the tent but his dark eyes watched her with interest, flowing over the midnight blue fabric of her gown, but her attention was on the King.
Gandalf raised his eyebrows and looked impressed. She, however, only narrowed her eyes at the wizard and folded her arms in front of her.
"Well, I'm fine," she said slowly as she faced Gandalf again. "I guess I'll leave you to it then."
She had every intention of leaving the tent so they could discuss their 'business,' only just realizing how hungry and tired she really was, but Gandalf frowned.
"You are not staying?" he asked quickly before she could even turn away.
"Well, it sounds like you have things to discuss," she hesitated.
"Sidhel," the King said suddenly, and the guard stepped forward and bowed his head. "You and your company are dismissed. The Princess will remain here for the remainder of the evening."
Sidhel hesitated and the King looked up at him.
"My Lord, the Lady has not yet had supper, nor has she rested since this morning," the guard said apprehensively.
"Not to worry Sidhel, I will see to it," the King said, surprising not only Sidhel but Shyloh and Gandalf as well. "You are dismissed until further notice."
Bowing his head, Sidhel looked at her one last time and then disappeared from the tent. Thranduil stood and gestured to his empty seat, silently telling her to sit down. She wanted to refuse – it was the King's chair after all - but the look on his face said not to, so she crossed the tent awkwardly with all three sets of eyes on her and sank down into the elegant chair, feeling more out of place than ever. She indeed felt quite small.
The question was clear in Gandalf's eyes but she just shook her head the slightest and shot him a look that said 'don't ask.' Leaning back, she crossed one knee over the other and folded her hands in her lap.
Seeming satisfied, Thranduil turned back to Gandalf and raised his eyebrows with interest. "Now, Mithrandir, you were saying?"
"You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming," the wizard said fiercely. "The pits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. War is upon you. You're all in mortal danger!"
Shyloh stared at the wizard in shock. Yep, she definitely should have gone to get supper. Thranduil on the other hand, looked rather calm and relaxed, as if the wizard told him they were being invaded by a swarm of butterflies. He raised his eyebrows mildly and exchanged a brief glance with Bard.
"What are you talking about?" the man asked as he stood, clearly more upset about this news than the King.
"I can see you know nothing of wizards," Thranduil said lightly; pouring goblets of wine from a small pitcher on the table in the middle of the tent. He handed one to Bard. "They are like winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes, a storm is just a storm."
"Not this time," Gandalf said firmly. "Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters; they have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength."
"Why show his hand now?" the King asked with a dramatic eye roll he directed towards the wizard.
"Because we forced him," the wizard snapped. "We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland." Then he crossed the space to the opposite side of the tent, and the King and Bard followed him out into the cool night air. "The dwarves were never meant to reach the mountain. Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain, not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies; its strategic position. This is the gateway to reclaiming the ancient kingdom of Angmar. If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself would fall."
Shyloh stood and followed them hesitantly, and once she was outside her eyes widened at the view before them. Lit by the shine of the moon and torchlight, the face of Erebor drew up out of the mountainside. The carved pillars and statues were cast in dark shadows that danced across the face of the rock. And here she thought the entrance to the kingdom of the Woodland Realm was impressive. Clearly it had once been a magnificent structure, but now her eyes skimmed over the crumbled gate.
As her eyes searched the gate, she noticed that the small torches were alive with activity and her heart leaped with hope. There was movement at the front gate! Finally she was shown some sort of sign of life. It was so close, she realized as she measured the distance between the walls of Dale and the front gates of Erebor. So close, yet so far away.
"These orc armies you speak of Mithrandir," the King said calmly, drawing her attention back to the task at hand. "Where are they?"
Sidhel hunched his shoulders against the bitter blast of wind that crept its way between the stone walls of Dale and turned down one of the side streets with every intention of finding food and drink; shortly after relieving his fellow guard's for the time being. The Princess would be safe under the King's watchful eye and attentive guard's, but he knew not when he would be summoned back. Rest was certainly much needed.
She was intriguing to say the least, but despite her mellow demeanor he could almost sense a fire growing within her. She was restless and quiet. Too quiet. He could clearly see the wheels spinning in her head and it put him on edge.
Guarding the Prince had always been his first and foremost priority. For centuries Legolas, Nodron, and himself trained side by side. The amount of times the three of them ran border patrol was beyond count. Where on earth the Prince was he could not fathom, but if he knew Legolas at all, then he would have his reasons for his abrupt departure. North had been the latest word, but whatever lay beyond their northern boundaries were desolate lands that stretched up into unclaimed mountains of the vast wilderness.
It came as a major surprise that he and his fellow guard's would be selected with the task of protecting the Princess, and his irritation with Tauriel only grew. How irresponsible and reckless. Whatever had transpired between herself and the dwarves was beyond his grasp of understanding. Had she not disappeared, his company would be protecting the Prince instead, not the Princess. There were many other great soldiers among their fellow guard's that would make up an excellent protection detail for her.
However, the request came from none other than Legolas himself. 'He trusts you,' were the King's very words when he summoned Sidhel to discuss the matter. Perhaps he shouldn't feel too irritated by the Prince's request. So far, the White Princess of Rivendell had proven to be much more obedient than the King's son and he attempted to smother a grin at the thought. Yes, and she was much fairer to look upon, too.
His path led him past many of his fellow guards who acknowledged him with quick little nods of their heads. He knew many of them were anxious to head back home, and quite frankly, so was he. He sent a silent prayer to the Valar just then, praying their visit was quick, swift, and efficient. They all wanted to see the heirlooms of their kingdom returned. How beloved their Queen had been to them. But despite wishing for them to return home quickly, he hoped that they would be doing it with the white gems.
His thoughts were disturbed when a figure fell into step with him, and immediately his hopes of rest vanished. Lord Iamben matched him in height and stride, and his dark eyes swept over Sidhel with a look the guard couldn't quite discern. If he wasn't on edge before, he was now.
"I did not think to see you without your charge," Lord Iamben said coolly.
"What do you want, my Lord?" Sidhel asked stiffly, not bothering to slow his pace nor check his manners.
"Can I not simply join you?"
Sidhel gave him a glare out of the corner of his eye. "You find it appealing to join a member of the guard as he searches for food and rest? Would you not find it beneath you?"
"I served my time as a member of the guard long before you were merely an elfling, Sidhel," Iamben said thoughtfully. "I recall the days of long patrols and weary nights with little to no rest very well."
"Despite all of that, I cannot help but feel there is something on your mind you wish to discuss."
Iamben hummed. "I always have much on my mind."
"Pray tell, what can I do to ease your troubled thoughts on this night?"
"Are you trying to be rid of me?"
"No, my Lord, however I feel as if this conversation has a purpose which has yet to reveal itself, and I do not believe it is to make small talk."
Iamben sighed. "Always the suspicious one aren't we?"
"It is my job to be suspicious."
"Indeed," Iamben mused. They walked a few paces in silence before Sidhel finally stopped and turned toward Iamben expectantly. "I wonder if it wise for you to neglect the needs of the Princess. I believe it was you who said you were not to leave her side, yet here you are, clearly not by her side."
Sidhel drew himself up. So here it was at last, the reason for Iamben's unnatural visit. His eyes narrowed. Of course the Lord would be fishing for information.
"She is currently under the protection of the King and his personal guards, although I dare say she is capable of taking care of herself."
"And you know this how? She has been locked up like a prisoner for weeks."
"I've seen the way she handles a blade and bow. Her skill is impressive."
"Indeed. Tell me, if she is so capable of taking care of herself, what on earth does she need you for? After all, if she can handle the dwarves-,"
"My task is to not only ensure the ward of the King is well protected, but that she is also kept away from those that might use her for their own personal gain. Do you forget who she is so easily Iamben? She is the daughter of Kings; niece to the Lord Elrond of Rivendell who ever remains our faithful ally and personal friend of our King."
"No need to recant who she is Sidhel; we are all well aware."
"Perhaps you, like so many others, find her inferior and beneath you based on her past chosen company?"
"Her company was a bunch of dwarves; hardly an appropriate entourage for an elleth of her standing. I am surprised Lord Elrond did not send an entire fleet to retrieve her."
"He may yet should anything happen to her."
"Your threats are hardly worth my energy. I wish no harm to come to her. But, her choice of companions does not sit well with many if you have not already noticed. They link her with the destruction of Esgaroth and the banishment of your three fellow guards. If it were up to me, she would have been thrown in the dungeons the moment word came of the dragon's movements."
"The banishment of those guards was completely justified," Sidhel said, not bothering to keep his voice lowered. "They had no right or excuse to lay a hand on her or to do what they did. It was disgraceful and shameful, and perhaps their punishment was too lenient."
"Our guard was killed because of those dwarves, the Princess, and their combined foolishness. You forget your place Sidhel, if you think you can speak so freely."
"You forget who my father is Iamben. He currently watches over the entire Woodland Realm in the King's absence. You wish to ask her about the mountain, tell me, aside from the white gems, what exactly is it you seek? The gold? It is cursed just like the dwarves that linger inside those walls."
"Bold choice of words Sidhel," Iamben snapped. "However, the gold would be merely a bonus. Lord Elrond sent his niece with the dwarves for a reason. Why send her so willingly, if not to gain a foothold in the mountain himself?"
Sidhel recoiled a little and his eyes widened. "You believe Lord Elrond's intentions are false?"
"Think about it Sidhel," Iamben said impatiently. "She has wormed her way into the good graces of our own King, you cannot tell me her charming and warm demeanor would not also soften the heart of a particular dwarf King."
Sidhel scowled but Iamben only leaned in closer, lowering his voice so just Sidhel would hear.
"I also wondered for a time why our Prince's own personal detail would suddenly be ordered to protect this Princess; but then I figured it out," smiled Iamben softly. "Who else, other than the King's guards themselves, would be more than qualified to protect our future Queen?"
