Chapter 12

In Lorien: Kalan's Healing

Swiftly, the Fellowship crossed a field and entered into the Golden Wood. Aragorn led, followed closely by Legolas. Beside the elf were Merry and Pippin, close together and wary. Behind them came Boromir carrying the unconscious Kalan on his back. The man shifted the weight slightly, trying not to jostle the youth too much. But even that small movement caused the boy to moan in pain. He felt the boy's warm breath against his neck, coming in short, and shaky gasps. Boromir glanced over his shoulder at Kalan's face. He was sweating; his skin pale, he felt the smaller body shiver against his own.

Gimli followed with Sam and Frodo, herding the hobbits close. He spoke in a low, cautious voice. "Stay close young hobbits, they say a great sorceress dwells in these woods, an elf witch, of terrible power," the dwarf hefted his great axe. "They say, any who look upon her fall under her spell," he growled. Sam glanced at Frodo who looked back at him, each a bit nervous. Gimli walked on, looking this way and that, mumbling under his breath, "Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox," and stopped dead in his tracks.

An arrow, no two, were mere inches from the dwarf's nose. The others froze as well, as they found themselves in a similar situation. Dozens of sharp arrows appeared from out of the foliage. No one moved or spoke. They were surrounded on all sides by armed elves. From behind a tree, stepped one, a tall elf with long blonde hair. He strode toward the Fellowship. "The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," he said softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. They heard Gimli growl but he said naught. Aragorn looked up at the elf and spoke to him in elvish.

"Haldir of Lorien," he said getting the elf's attention, "we have traveled far, on a quest from Rivendell. We ask for you protection." The named Haldir looked at Aragorn, but said nothing.

"Aragorn," called Gimli, "these woods are perilous, we should go back," a hint of fear creeping into his voice. Haldir looked at each of the company in turn.

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood, you cannot go back," he said in his soft voice.

"We must go one, Gimli," Aragorn called back, and then turned to Haldir again. "One of our party is injured, maybe dying, he is in need of healing," he motioned to where Boromir stood with Kalan. Haldir approached the man who watched him warily. The elf reached out and the man reached for his sword, trying to protect his quivering burden. Haldir met his gaze, looking at him calmly.

"I wish no harm upon him," he said and surprisingly, Boromir relaxed. Haldir reached over Boromir's shoulder, gently cupping Kalan's cheek, raising the boy's head. "I know this one, he is Elvellon, elf- friend," he gently rested Kalan's head back down. "Follow us, the Lord and Lady are waiting," then he turned to walk into the forest. The arrows left, but the group was ushered along by the other elves. Kalan moaned softly, his brow creased, pain evident on his young face. Boromir gently squeezed his arm, trying to reassure him.

Before the Fellowship, stood a tall male elf and to his left was the most beautiful elfess any of them had ever seen. Her long golden hair fell past her waist; she was dressed in the purest of white lace and silk, and a golden band encircled her head. The elf beside her stood tall and proud, his piercing gaze looking at each of them. Legolas had whispered to them that they were Celeborn and Galadriel, Lord and Lady of the Lothlorien.

"Nine there are before me, yet ten there were sent out from Rivendell," he paused, watching them. "Tell me, where is Gandalf for I much desire to speak with him," he asked. No one answered him. Galadriel's eyes looked into Aragorn's.

"He has fallen into shadow," she spoke softly. Aragorn nodded. "The quest stands upon the edge of a knife, stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all," her eyes straying to Boromir, who hurriedly looked away. She moved on, looking upon Sam, "But hope still remains if the company is true," she smiled slightly and caused the young hobbit to blush. "You may rest here, these woods are well protected. You are weary with sorrow and much toil," she said kindly. Aragorn took a step forward.

"Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, one of our part is injured and in great need of healing," he said. Celeborn looked at Boromir and the shaking form he bore.

"Bring him forth," he said. Boromir walked forward and with the help of Haldir and Aragorn, released Kalan from the harness. Kalan remained unconscious but groaned softly in pain as he was moved. Frodo winced and fidgeted, wanting desperately to go to his friend's side. Kalan was gently laid on the cool stone, his head pillowed in Haldir's lap.

Both Galadriel and Celeborn knelt at his side, studying the boy before them. "I have seen this one before, he Elvellon, a dragon's son, saved by Lord Elrond of Rivendell," said Celeborn, the elf looked up at Aragorn. "You must leave him with us tonight, we shall strive to save him," the man nodded and turned away, an elf lead the Fellowship to where they could rest. Frodo remained behind, wringing his hands anxiously as he watched the elves gather around Kalan's prone form. Galadriel looked up at the hobbit, watching him with kind eyes. "Go and rest, Frodo Baggins, your friend will live and your fears are unfound," she smiled. Frodo looked down at Kalan once more then nodded and scampered off after his friends.

Celeborn rested his hand against Kalan's forehead; gently smoothing back the youth's damp hair. Galadriel had moved off to collect some things that would help heal the young half-dragon. The elf lord looked sadly into the young face. One of the other elves had brought a bowl of cool water and a soft white cloth and placed them beside Celeborn. He dipped the cloth into the water, and then wrung it out. He used this to gently wipe Kalan's face, cleaning the sweat, blood and dirt from his skin. He opened the youth's tunic and slowly unwound the bandages around Kalan's shoulder revealing the ugly, deep wound. Had it not been for the poison, the dragonling could have healed himself, this Celeborn knew. Also the time spent in the darkness had sapped his strength. The skin around was red and hot to the touch, the strange blood still seeped from the hole. Because they were elves, their power protected them from being burnt by the dragon blood.

Celeborn took a new cloth and dampened it. Gently, he touched it to the wound, cleaning it. Kalan jerked, and squirmed to get away from the cold touch. Celeborn held him gently, but firmly, murmuring soothing words in elvish to the boy.

"He is very far gone," said Haldir, upon whose lap rested Kalan's head. The elf cooled the dragonling's forehead using another cloth, trying to calm the raging fever. Celeborn did not stop his ministrations, but answered.

"That he is, but not far enough that our power cannot save him," he said. Kalan winced again, his face contorted in pain; a small whimper escaped his lips. Haldir gently stroked the dark waves, soothingly.

"It is hard not to think of him as young, his body is no older than that of a human youth, eighteen years at the most. However, he has seen nearly two thousand years," he said. Celeborn smiled.

"But to elves such as us, he is young. Compared to us, he is a mere child," he responded. Haldir nodded. Galadriel returned and knelt beside her husband. She held two crystal phials, one holding a clear sparkling liquid, the other a cloudy mixture. Celeborn looked over at her. "You think the Light is needed?" he asked in surprise. The elfess nodded.

"Not only is he grievously wounded and the dark poison in his blood, but his Light has diminished. The darkness has sapped him of his strength and there is not enough natural light here to restore him," she opened the phial with the clear liquid. Upon doing this, a bright light shot forth, almost blindingly. "Earendill's light is the only Light able to save him." She reached out and slowly dripped the liquid-light into the wound. Kalan jerked, trying to pull away but Haldir held him still. The light was swiftly absorbed into the wound and the redness disappeared. The wound began to close, until it was only a dark scar. Almost instantly, Kalan's skin lost its pallid look and regained some of its usual glow.

Galadriel restopped the phial and took the other. Haldir lifted the boy's head and opened his lips. Galadriel slowly poured the mixture into Kalan's mouth, the youth swallowed reflexively. After he finished off the whole thing, Haldir laid his had back down. "That will help him to sleep and work away the poison," she said. Celeborn nodded, as did the Guardian. "He has an important to play, however, what his outcome will be, I cannot tell," she rose, followed by Celeborn. "Take him back to his fellows, where he can rest this night," she said to Haldir, and then she and her lord turned and walked away.

Haldir watched as they left, then looked down at the youthful face. The lines of pain had been smoothed away and Kalan was sleeping peacefully under the power of Earendill. Haldir rested a hand on the boy's forehead, the fever had gone and he was no longer sweating. The boy stirred under his hand, and slowly blinked his silver eyes open. He focused on the elf above him.

"Legolas?" he whispered, the elf smiled.

"No, I am Haldir of Lorien, Guardian of the Wood. You are in Lothlorien, young Kalan," he said in a soft voice.

"Oh," Kalan paused, his eyes drifting shut once more. Haldir began to think the child had fallen asleep again, but the eyes opened once more, his brows furrowed in worry. "The others…are they alright?" he asked in a raspy voice. He tried to rise but the movement caused his body to convulse in a fit of coughing. Haldir restrained him by holding the younger one down. After the fit had passed, the elf answered.

"Your friends are safe, they rest not far from here, as you should. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were able to save your life, but just barely," he stroked the youth's head, trying to sooth him back to sleep. "You must sleep now, Kalan, regain your strength, you are no use to them if you are not well," he said, mildly amused. Kalan said nothing, but his eyelids drooped and his body relaxed. He tried to say something more but Haldir hushed him with slender fingers over the boy's lips. "Hush now, don't argue," ordered the elf and passed a hand over Kalan's face. When he removed it, the youth was deep in slumber.

Haldir lifted the smaller form in his strong arms and carried him to where the Fellowship was resting.

The elves of Lorien had set up small couches and blankets for the Fellowship, one for each other them. Food and drink had been brought and now they rested in solemn silence with each other. In the distance, they could hear elves singing, their fair voices holding an almost unbearable sorrow. Legolas listened intently, as did Aragorn, the two being the only ones fluent in elvish. Once in a while the others picked out 'Mithrandir', which was Gandalf's name the elves gave him.

"What do they say about him?" asked Merry softly to Legolas. The elf's eyes turned to the hobbit.

"I do not have the heart to tell you, for me the grief is still too near," he said sadly, and then turned away. But he quickly turned back, looking beyond the group as his keen elven hearing pricked. He quickly stood and ran. The others turned, confused, but then swiftly joined him when they saw Haldir walking toward them, Kalan in his arms. The elf shifted the youth in his arms, resting the dark head more comfortably on his shoulder. He walked over to one of the plush couches and gently laid his burden down.

The Fellowship gathered around and all asked questions at once. The elf was overwhelmed, but Legolas came to his rescue.

"Hush, all of you!" he commanded in a strong, yet quiet voice. "Lest you wake Kalan," he then nodded to Haldir.

"Your friend will live, he has been healed by the power of the Lord and Lady. However, he will need this night to fully recover," he said to them. Then nodded to Aragorn and Legolas, he left them. Frodo knelt beside Kalan and gently pulled back the bloodstained tunic. To his surprise, the wound was indeed healed, only a scar remained, but it still looked painful. Frodo brushed a few stray hairs from Kalan's face, pressing his hand against his cheek and forehead. "His fever is gone!" he said jubilantly. The others smiled.

"Thank the Valar," murmured Legolas, Aragorn nodded. Kalan's eyelids twitched and he stirred. Slowly blinking his eyes open he focused on Frodo's smiling face.

"Oh, hi Frodo," he said in a soft, sleepy voice. Frodo's smile widened. The others behind him murmured amongst themselves, relief in their voices.

"Oh, Kalan I am so glad you're alright. We were worried that we would lose you," said the hobbit. Kalan smiled weakly.

"Aw, hey. You should know it takes more than a few thousand orcs to kill a dragon, besides, where would you be with out me here, hm?" he said with a lopsided smile. Aragorn laughed out loud and the three other hobbits giggled.

"You're right, Kalan," said Frodo, but then he became serious, "But you still need to rest, Haldir said you're not completely well yet." Kalan nodded.

"Whatever you say, hobbit," said the youth, though he was already falling back asleep, "G'night, Frodo," he said before drifting off. Frodo smiled and brushed through Kalan's hair affectionately.

"Good night, Kalan," he whispered and they went to their own beds.