Summary: A collection of h/c one shots centering around Legolas. In this chapter, a childless mother who has begun to train to be a healer faces the harsh reality of the healing wards after a battle and finds herself looking after the prince. A sort-of tag to my previous story, To Endure.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien, I just like to play in his world.
Author's Note: Welcome back! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! To the guests to whom I could not respond personally, know that I read and appreciate every review.
The background for this one shot is from my story "To Endure," it is not necessary to have read that to understand this and only a small portion of that story is relevant to this. I debated including a brief summary of what was in To Endure, but I really don't think it's necessary to follow this story-definitely let me know if I was incorrect.
Full disclosure, I'm normally not a big fan of stories that are centered on OCs and I understand if you feel the same way, but the idea for this story has been with me since writing To Endure, so I ran with it.
Begin Again
Chaos.
The healing ward was in chaos.
A surprise attack had left many injured, and healers were scrambling to save as many lives as they could, but they were overwhelmed by the sheer number of wounded elves. As a result, apprentice healers were being called on to handle some of the simpler tasks of patient care that normally would have been reserved for the fully trained healers.
This was how Almalyn found herself at the bedside of Prince Legolas, armed with a basin of water next to her and a small stack of cloths to try to cool the almost dangerously high fever that had taken hold of him. His wounds had been tended already by the realm's most experienced healers. He no longer needed the care of a healer, just care.
Enniel, one of the head healers, had treated the prince and quickly explained to her that she needed continually replace the cool clothes on his forehead and where his limbs met his body to keep his fever from rising. The healer had laid a hand on the prince's forehead one more time and nodded to himself, "He is not in danger if it does not get worse. Fetch a healer immediately if the fever rises further," he looked away as he was called to another warrior's bedside, "Do you have any questions?"
"No," she replied confidently, "I understand."
She had spent the last two hours keeping the cloths and the prince as cool as possible. Space was at a premium today, but the prince's bed was in the corner of the ward, somewhat removed from the bustle of the rest of the area, the only deference to his position that could be afforded to him at the moment.
Almalyn had interacted personally with the prince only twice before, and neither of those occasions had been happy. Her own children, one son and one daughter, had been warriors in service of the realm. And both had perished in that service. The prince, as their captain, had come to deliver that dire and most unwanted news to her and her husband on both occasions.
It had destroyed her. There was no recovery from such wounds. She thought it could get no worse.
But then, her husband had decided to sail.
And she could not go with him. He had known that, known that she was not ready to leave the land where her children had lived. He had known that she needed to see how this war would end, to see the future for which their children had given their lives. For him, this land only brought pain now, and he would find no peace here.
They had bid each other a quiet and sorrowful farewell, and then he was gone too.
And she was alone. Utterly and irrevocably alone until she too decided to follow him and sail. But her children had believed in the cause for which they had given their lives. Almalyn knew that she could not be a warrior, she had no stomach for violence. But she could serve. She no longer had her own children to care for, but there were so many other elves who needed care. She saw the wounded and weary returning from the south only to ride out again as soon as they were able. She also knew that the healing wards were sometimes overwhelmed. And she believed she could help. So, she joined the apprentice healers and began a new vocation. She could no longer look after her own children, but would instead look after all of her home's children.
Though age mattered little to elves, she was easily the oldest elf to begin the training, many of the young apprentice elves looked to her for support and relied upon her steadying presence. She found herself as something of a mother to them too. She had not yet found joy again, but she had found a peace in the new skills she was learning and the work she would be doing.
This was the first time she had been in the healing wards in the aftermath of a battle gone poorly. She had never before witnessed this firsthand. Healers were desperately helping those who needed it, but those who were relatively stable lay alone in their beds. Had her children been left alone and in pain? She understood that space was limited and there were only so many healers. She knew that comfort would come later and that no elf here was untreated. But seeing this affirmed her decision. She could help. Even if she was never a great healer, she could offer comfort.
The youth that surrounded her still stunned her. Not just the youth of the apprentice healers, but the youth of the warriors and even the youth of their prince. Blinded by grief both times the prince had been in her home, she had not noticed. Other times, when he was with his father performing his duties as a prince or riding through the settlement on the back of his horse as a captain, he was too far away and too regal for her to see it.
Now, sitting next to him in his sick bed, she was struck by just how young he was.
Wringing out a fresh cloth and swinging it briefly but quickly to cool it further, she turned back to him and placed it on his forehead and her breath caught in her throat when his fever bright eyes met hers. The healers had not expected him to wake for some time yet.
His brow crinkled in a frown and he squinted at her, "Naneth?" he queried, his voice soft and rough.
She froze, the cloth halfway to his forehead. She bore no more than a passing resemblance to the queen. And that word. It had been so long since anyone had actually called her naneth and, Valar, it hurt.
He blinked slowly at her and a bit of clarity returned to his confused gaze. He turned weakly away from her, "S'ry," he slurred. She was not certain whether he was sorry for confusing her with his own mother or whether he had noticed her pained response and apologized for that. It did not matter, he owed her no apology.
She blinked back the tears that had come unbidden to her eyes at that word—now was no time for that—and returned to her task. As much as she missed her children, he must also miss his mother, especially in times such as these. How many times had the queen done this for him? Sat at his bedside and cared for him, whispered words of comfort. He was a warrior before he died, surely such a thing had happened.
Her heart ached for him as his thoughts, muddled by fever and pain, turned so quickly to his mother at her small gestures of comfort.
Gently, she reached out and grasped his arm, squeezing it gently. His fingers ghosted across his thin blanket as though looking for something. Feeling bolder, she took his hand and he latched onto it like a lifeline.
He was too lost in himself to focus on anything. His breaths were quick and his body was trembling. The hand that wasn't secure in her grip twisted in the bedsheets.
"Be still," she soothed, "You're alright."
She ran the cloth across his forehead again and was rewarded by his sigh of relief.
"Just rest, everything will be alright," she murmured.
He turned his head to her again. She thought she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but it was there and gone so quickly that she could not be sure.
His eyes slid closed, energy gone and exhaustion overwhelming him.
She rested her hand on his forehead, and was relieved to feel that his fever had not risen. His breathing slowed down as sleep reclaimed him.
She continued her vigil.
Things were quieting in the healing halls. Much of the danger and hurry of before had now passed.
A whispered conversation reached her ears as two elves approached Legolas' corner of the healing wards. Even in simple garb, the king was unmistakable. He spoke in soft tones to Enniel, the healer who had been responsible for his son's care earlier.
She rose to her feet and bowed her head as the king paused at the prince's bedside. His hand covered his son's forehead and paused there for a moment. Legolas shifted restlessly and she could not help but glance at the father and son as Thranduil leaned down and murmured something she could not hear to Legolas, who stilled and seemed to rest more easily.
The king stood, pulled away from this particular duty by others that would not wait. He met her gaze, held it for what seemed a long moment, and then nodded to her, his expression conveying his appreciation, before he swept from halls.
What must that be like, she wondered, to still have your child here, but not be able to be with him? Her heart went out to their small family, and she was glad for what ease she had brought them this night.
Enniel did not follow the king out of the halls, but instead remained by the prince's bedside. He pulled back the sheet that covered the younger elf and checked the bandages and wounds beneath. He rested the back of his hand on the prince's forehead and left it there for a moment.
Sighing, he looked up at Almalyn, "You have done well, I feared it would get worse," he gestured to the basin of water, "I can have someone else take over for you if you would like a break. You've been here as long as anyone and there are others who can see to him now."
She shook her head, "No, I will stay. You rest. If anyone takes a turn for the worse, it will be more important for you to be well rested and able to help them than me."
The healer smiled tiredly at her, "You have the heart for this. This calling is a curse as much as it is a blessing, but you will do well here."
She easily settled back into the routine of before, and time slipped by again without her notice.
Dawn came, and another healer came to relieve her. Exhausted, she stood and gently stretched her neck and shoulders. She looked back at the prince one last time. The fever had not yet abated, but Legolas had rested quietly throughout the night and he would be well in time.
She slipped quietly from the room to find rest herself, glad the healing ward was quiet once again.
Over the next few days, the prince's care did not fall to Almalyn again, but she still found her gaze drifting to his bed whenever she had cause to be in the healing wards, bringing supplies to the healers and carrying out dirty linens to be washed. The first couple of days, he was usually asleep. Sometimes the sleep was peaceful, others times he tossed about on the bed. As the days passed, she was more likely to see him awake.
Though his fellow warriors visited him frequently, she only saw the king visit him one other time. It was late in the evening, and the room was quiet. The kind had slipped quietly into the halls and sat at his son's bedside. The two had conversed quietly for a time, and then the king left, just as unobtrusively as he had come.
And then, only a week after he had arrived, he was gone. It happened sooner than Almalyn would have thought possible given his state that first night. But then again, many of the warriors injured that terrible night were returning to their own homes now.
Relative quiet and peace again descended upon the healing wards, and Almalyn was glad for it.
Things were back to normal. Almalyn found herself sitting in a small supply room, cutting and folding linens to use as bandages. Sadly, they were running low, and everyone who worked in the healing halls was making it a priority to rebuild the stocks. The work was important, but tedious. Her hands ached from cutting and manipulating the thick cloth. Her younger partner at this task had left to get them lunch, but she was beginning to suspect that he had been distracted by something or someone along the way and was perhaps not overly eager to return to work.
She heard someone quietly clear their throat behind her and she smiled, thinking that it was her wayward partner returning with their meal. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come back at all," she said.
There was a pause, and then, "My lady?" an unexpected voice spoke softly.
She knew the voice and dropped the linen and turned quickly, rising to her feet only to bow to the prince.
"Please," Legolas said, his voice still quiet, slightly breathless, "There is no need. I did not mean to startle you."
She rose from the hasty bow and her eyes darted around the room, wondering what he was doing here, and not sure what the protocol was in this situation.
Legolas saw her uncertainty and spoke quickly, "I only wished to thank you. I was told you sat with me for a long time. My recollection of those hours is rather hazy, but I recall knowing that I was not alone, and that helped."
"Anyone would have done so, ernil nin," she said.
"Nonetheless, you did. Thank you."
"You are welcome."
He turned to go, and hesitated, and then spoke again, "I did not know you were training to be a healer, but I think our warriors will be better for your care. I know I was," he paused, "Thank you again," and he left with a slight bow toward her.
Almalyn saw more now than she did before. As a mother, she had always been aware of the pain of others. But now, having had some formal healing training, she noticed things that she might have missed. When she looked at the prince, she saw the dark circles under his eyes, the slightly hunched way he carried himself, that he was still just a shade too pale. She also saw him on his feet and ignoring any lingering infirmity in order to carry on. She saw so many of their warriors doing that.
It reaffirmed her commitment to this new life. She would never recover from the pain of losing her children, but perhaps she could save the children of others and spare those children even some small amount of pain. With this conviction, she found that she had the strength to begin again.
End note: I hope you enjoyed the story and will take a minute to review. I have a couple more chapters that are just about ready, so I should be back in the next couple of weeks with an update!
Best, Cool Breeze
