Author's Note: I realise the stuff about Elven healing probably isn't canon, but I figure that since this is a little AU all of my own, I'm entitled to play just a little bit!

Thanks to Becki and Laiqalasse for the beta job, and those lovely reviewers, Lalaith and LegolasLuver123!

Disclaimer: If you think you recognise anyone, they don't belong to me but to Professor Tolkien. Written for love, not money.

A Grain of Truth

Chapter 4: Perfectly Capable of Walking

She awoke with a start. She had not meant to fall asleep; how long had she been out? The bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains gave her her answer. She had slept right through until morning, and if the Prince had visited her, she had missed him. She swallowed her disappointment. She did not wish to think about it.

Glancing at the washstand, she noticed that the oil lamp was no longer burning. She was sure she had not blown it out before falling asleep, for she had been intending to wait for the Prince. Nor had it burned down and gone out; the wick was still long. Somebody must have come in and blown it out. She could not quite suppress the warmth around her heart at the thought that it might have been the Prince.

She lay still for a while, inwardly noting the improvements in her injuries. Her muscles did not ache as much, and the small cuts and bruises no longer stung, although she had no doubt that when she got out of bed they would begin to trouble her again. The cut across her ribs only smarted slightly, and a dull throb and a feeling of stiffness were the only immediate evidence that the slash in her thigh was still there. The Elven medicine seemed to be working; she would soon be on her way again. She ignored the inner voice that said what a shame it would be to leave so soon.

There was a soft knock at the door, and a she-Elf poked her head into the room. "Oh good, you're awake. Did you sleep well?"

"Like the dead. No pun intended, I hope." The warrior managed a small laugh, and the she-Elf smiled.

"It certainly doesn't look like it. I'll tell the Lady you're awake." She retreated and closed the door behind her. A few minutes later, the Healer herself came in. She looked the warrior over and noted with approval that her long sleep had erased some of the pain and fatigue from her face. Still, she was far from well and would need many more days of bed-rest. Somehow, the Healer did not think that news would go down well.

"You're certainly looking better this morning," she said, briskly. "Let me have a quick look at your wounds, and then we'll think about moving you."

"Moving me?" The warrior looked confused.

"Yes, moving you. This is just a treatment room; now that we've treated you, we'll be moving you to one of the convalescent rooms upstairs. They're rather more comfortable than this one."

"Convalescent rooms? But I'm better. You said so yourself."

"Not quite, my dear. I said you're looking better. You've got a way to go yet. You lost a lot of blood, remember? You need complete bed-rest for a few days, I'm afraid." She had to suppress a smile at the warrior's horrified expression. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll be able to find you plenty of things to do so you won't get bored. Now, let's see those injuries." Her tone brooked no argument, and so the warrior dutifully did as she was told, pushing back the covers and unlacing the ribbons at the side of her nightgown.

The Healer was brisk and businesslike, inspecting the wounds and pronouncing herself satisfied as to their progress. The warrior looked down and was intrigued to see that the slash across her thigh had already closed under the stitches, and the angry inflammation had all but disappeared.

The Healer caught her expression and smiled. "It's the salve I applied that's done that. Remember I said it was made from a concentrate of those leaves the Prince used, along with other things? Now, I think, you see that I was not lying when I told you that those leaves saved your life."

"I didn't doubt you the first time," the warrior said, slightly stung that the Healer had picked up on her uncertainty the previous day. "I remember that it hurt less once the Prince had dressed it. Those leaves are more talented than they look."

"So is the Prince," the Healer smiled, and was amused to see the suggestion of a blush tinting the warrior's pale face. "He has the healing touch, that one, for all he tries to deny it."

"What do you mean?" The warrior's interest was piqued at that. Her education had been rudimentary at best, but she had always loved to learn new things; it was partly why she had chosen the life of a mercenary. She loved to travel, and to meet new people, learn from them and then move on. She had once spent an extremely educational summer in Rohan, riding with the Rohirrim and learning all sorts of riding tricks and techniques that she would never be able to use with the loyal but slow-witted Oakapple.

"The healing touch? Ah, forgive me, little one, I had forgotten that you know very little of our kind. Let me just summon you some breakfast, and then I shall tell you while you eat." She rose and went to the door, hailing a passing apprentice and speaking to her in Elvish. It was a pretty tongue, the warrior decided, listening in utter incomprehension. Very lyrical and flowing, nothing like the Westron she had grown up speaking. There was so much to learn here...suddenly a long convalescence did not seem like such a bad idea after all.

The Healer returned to the bedside and redressed the warrior's wounds, relacing the nightgown and replacing the covers over her. A soft knock sounded at the door, and at the Healer's reply another she-Elf came in bearing a tray which she set down upon the washstand. The Healer spoke again, presumably thanking the apprentice, and the she-Elf bobbed a little curtsey and left the room, closing the door again behind her.

The warrior reached up and grasped the tray, bringing it carefully round to rest on her lap without spilling anything. It was a far cry from her breakfast of the previous morning; there was a bowl filled with sliced apples, cherries and plums, a plate holding two bread rolls and a tiny pat of butter, and a glass of cold, creamy milk. She was about to tuck in, suddenly realising how hungry she was, when she remembered her manners.

"Would you like some?" she offered, pushing the tray towards the Healer. Her nurse smiled and shook her head.

"Do not worry about me, little one. I breakfasted earlier this morning, before I began my duties. That tray is all for you. Now, eat up while I tell you a little about Elven healing."

The warrior obeyed, secretly relieved that she was not expected to share, for her stomach was painfully empty.

The Healer smiled to see that her charge's appetite had not been affected by her ordeal, and began to speak.

"Healing is a talent among our people; like archery or riding or swordsmanship, it comes in degrees. All Elves are taught at least a little of the craft, and those with a lesser degree of talent will use it when they need it in their everyday lives. The most talented of us become Healers, after long apprenticeships learning the craft. It is, of course, possible for someone to have no gift for healing at all, but they will always know the basic techniques they have been taught."

"So it's possible for someone to know what to do, like knowing the right way to handle a bow, but still not be any good at it?"

"It is indeed," the Healer smiled, pleased that her analogy had caught the warrior's attention. "I spoke earlier of the 'healing touch'. That is part of the talent, for it is not just a matter of knowing what to do. A truly gifted Healer can heal by touch alone, although they are few and far between. The rest of us use the salves and herbs given us by the Valar and couple them with the healing touch, to make them work better. Not all of us choose to use our gift by becoming Healers, though. Some of our best warriors have possessed the touch, and have been extremely useful on the field of battle, as I am sure you can understand."

The warrior nodded emphatically. She had been in many battles where someone with the gift of healing would have come in very handy.

"In fact," the Healer continued, "you have first-hand experience of how useful someone like that can be. Our Prince is one of those who is so gifted, although the talent is not as strong in him as it is in most of our Healers. Besides, I do not think it is considered a fitting career for a Prince, not to mention that his talent for archery and the other crafts of a warrior does rather surpass his talent for healing."

"I noticed that part," the warrior remarked, washing down the last mouthful of her breakfast.

Now it was the Healer's interest that was piqued. "If you do not mind my asking, how exactly did you come to meet the Prince? He didn't mention anything beyond the fact that you had been attacked by Orcs when he brought you in, and after that I was too preoccupied with treating you to ask him."

The warrior rolled her eyes. "It's embarrassing. I was doing all right against the Orcs, but once I took the sword to the thigh I started to flag. The last one would have finished me off if the Prince hadn't shot it. Twice. In the middle of the fight. If he wasn't as talented as you say, he'd have spitted me instead." She smiled ruefully. "Bit of a narrow escape."

The Healer patted her arm reassuringly. "There is no fault or embarrassment to be found in becoming injured. It was just bad luck for you - as it was good luck that it was our Prince who found you, and not a less-skilled archer." She could almost taste the warrior's self-disgust at her perceived weakness, and had to bite back a smile as she wondered how much of the girl's embarrassment was due to the fact that it had been the particularly handsome, kind and charming Prince who had rescued her. She would have to be blind, she thought, not to notice the way the two were beginning to feel about each other, although it was plain that neither of them had realised it yet. She offered a quick prayer to the Valar that no harm should come to either the Prince or his new-found friend through the circumstances in which they had found themselves. It had been she who had trained the Prince to use his gift for healing, when he was little more than an Elfling, and she loved him as she would love a son of her own. And she found, much to her surprise, that she was becoming uncommonly fond of this prickly young human female, though fondness was not something she usually felt for the race of Men.

Collecting her thoughts, she took the tray from the warrior's lap and replaced it on the washstand. "Come along then," she said briskly, "time to see about moving you upstairs. Put your robe on and I shall carry you up to your new room."

The warrior's expression became mutinous. "I'm perfectly capable of walking," she said, her tone a little sharper than she had intended. By way of amendment, she added, "and anyway, I'm heavier than I look."

"And I am stronger than I look," the Healer countered. "Besides, you have lost a lot of blood, and your strength is not what it should be. I do not wish for you to set yourself back by climbing four flights of stairs."

"I'll be all right. I've faced worse foes than four flights of stairs. Truly, I would rather walk. Please," she added, and the Healer could not help but be touched by the pleading look in the proud eyes. She understood how much this girl's pride meant to her, and so she conceded, although not without some misgivings.

"Very well, you may walk, but only on condition that you allow me to walk beside you, and that you rest on every landing. And that you go straight to bed when you reach your room."

The warrior opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. The Healer's tone brooked no further argument, and the warrior's common sense told her that here was someone as determined as she herself was. Obediently, she swung her legs stiffly over the side of the bed and put on the robe that the Healer was holding out to her. Using the nightstand for leverage, she slowly got to her feet, standing still until she felt she had her balance enough to be able to walk unaided. With the Healer by her side, she slowly limped from the room and along the corridor towards the stairs. Luckily, the steps were broad and shallow, and there was a banister running up the length of the staircase, onto which the warrior clung like grim death as she made her laborious way up towards the first landing. It was more difficult than she had anticipated, each step requiring an heroic effort, but she was determined not to show any weakness. She would do her race credit before the critical eyes of these Elves, as friendly as the Healer had turned out to be.

Upon reaching the landing between the first and second floors, she sank down onto the waiting bench with barely disguised relief, suddenly glad that her nurse had insisted that she rest after each flight of stairs. Hiding a smile, the Healer sat down beside her and waited for her to catch her breath. They sat in companionable silence until the warrior decided she had rested enough, and hauled herself to her feet to recommence her journey.

Another flight of stairs brought them to the second floor, and the Healer guided her to a bench just across the hallway. "Just two more flights," she promised. "The convalescent rooms are on the third floor, and the windows have beautiful views. Which you will discover *after* you have had some rest," she added, forestalling any ideas her charge might have had about exploring as soon as she reached her room.

The second two flights seemed steeper and more arduous than the first, and the warrior had to rest longer on the second landing; much to her dismay, she also found that once she had reached the top of the final flight, she could go no further than the bench opposite the head of the stairs. Cursing her weakness, she sat down heavily, refusing to meet the Healer's eyes.

Sensing the warrior's dismay, the Healer patted her on the shoulder. "I should go and check that all is ready for you. Wait here; I won't be a moment." She set off down the hallway, leaving the warrior feeling touched by her unlooked-for kindness.

After a few minutes, during which she had waited just inside the door of the warrior's already well-prepared room, the Healer returned to find the girl just deciding that she had regained enough strength to make it down the corridor. Resisting the temptation to offer the girl her arm, she stood back and waited patiently for her charge to struggle to her feet. They made their way slowly down the corridor and into the convalescent room, the warrior having to concentrate solely on putting one foot in front of the other. The Healer drew back the bedcovers and the girl sank gratefully into the bed, too exhausted even to take off her robe. The Healer covered her over and drew the curtains, and by the time she turned back, the warrior had fallen asleep. The Healer shook her head. It had done the girl's self-esteem some good to walk unaided to her room, but it remained to be seen whether she had set her body's healing back by her stubbornness. Hopefully a few hours' sleep would go some way towards remedying her exhaustion. The Elven lady slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

She was making her way down to the dispensary on the ground floor when she met the Prince coming up the stairs. She had to hide a smile at the way he tried not to look too eager as he asked her how the warrior girl was doing.

"Her wounds are healing nicely. She has had some breakfast, and I have just moved her up to one of the convalescent rooms on the top floor." She laid a hand on the Prince's arm, checking him as he made to go upstairs. "Not yet, my lord. She is sleeping at the moment. I shall be waking her later so that she can eat some lunch, and you may see her after she has eaten. Not before!" she added, sensing that he was about to try to persuade her otherwise. His face fell and an expression of concern shadowed his eyes.

"She is truly all right?" he asked.

"She will be fine," she reassured him. "She will need complete bed rest for a few days, but she should soon be up and about again. Come back a little after noon, and you may see her then."

A look of relief crossed the Prince's face, and he smiled. "Thank you. I shall get out from under your feet until noon, then." He accompanied the Healer down the stairs, and she watched as he crossed the hall, turning in the doorway to raise a hand to her in farewell. Smiling, the Healer headed for the infirmary to resume her duties, wondering how long it would take this oddly-matched couple to realise what had happened to them.