Chapter Two: Restoration
I sat huddled in my room, staring at the walls as the compulsion to seek out the King grew stronger every moment I denied it. Like the day with the young girl, I soon found myself drawn unwillingly toward the heights and the White Tower of Minas Tirith. Again, I faced the gates, but this time the guards smiled and opened them wide for my entrance.
Inside, I looked down at the tattered gown I wore, ashamed I had no better, then gazed upward at the great steps leading to the tower and the small tree that blossomed so beautifully in front. Hesitating, I sat on a large stone near the tree, my heart so heavy I could not bear to go on. What could I, a simple healer, do that the elves could not? I laughed without humor, my arms wrapped around myself in an effort to thwart my doubts and lack of confidence. All I had to cling to was the image of the injured elf and my own stubbornness.
I finally gave in and started up the stairs to the tower, when to my surprise Aragorn appeared, striding down the steps to meet me halfway. With a relieved look, he took my hand and led me to the top, but I balked as he made to bring me inside. My cheeks flushed red, and he stared at me in confusion until he saw me glance at my dress and realized the source of my embarrassment. With a smile, he bade me to wait, and disappeared into the vast confines of the hall.
I stood uncomfortably, not knowing what he expected of me, then a moment later he reappeared and I understood. My blush grew as I realized he had brought his wife, Arwen, to meet me, yet she smiled and welcomed me kindly, and touched my arm with her hand.
I turned to the King and spoke the reason I had come, and he nodded and blessed me for my courage, kissing the tips of my fingers in a gesture of sincere gratitude. As I turned to leave, the Queen stopped me with another touch of her hand. A handmaiden I could be if the desire was mine. I shook my head and thanked her, but I could not accept. My time in the White City neared its end, though how I knew this I could not say. They watched me leave, and I hurried down the stair, having agreed to go to the injured elf upon the following morn.
* * *
I woke the next day in restless dread, and as I dressed, I stared into my own eyes in the small mirror above my bed. Why should I fear? And was the fear for him?
I left my room and moved slowly down the street, oblivious to the crowd around me. Someone pulled at my skirt and I flinched, then saw that it was only Gwinnyth. She smiled and placed her hand in mine, and I felt strangely calmed as she walked with me toward the gate of the city.
I stopped outside the gate, gazing upon the vast plain now littered with hundreds of colorful tents. The elves had chosen to remain out here, and I could see quite a number of them moving gracefully among the tents. Gwinnyth stood with me while I hesitated, wondering where to go, then I heard Aragorn's voice, and turned.
He would take me to speak with the Lady Galadriel before I made my offer to Haldir. The King's frown spoke of his worry that the proud elf might refuse my help. With a sigh, I knelt beside the child, Gwinnyth, and she hugged me as I said farewell. Then I rose, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I thought of what was to come.
Aragorn led me through the maze of bright tents to one of silk and gold, larger than the rest, its standards waving high in the morning breeze. We stopped before the sentinels, and I could not help staring at the elves who stood so tall, their long, silvery hair glinting in the sunlight. Their greenish black tunics contrasted starkly with the tent, and the presence of their weapons served to remind me who they guarded.
Their piercing gazes rested on me as Aragorn spoke to them in the Elvish tongue. One sentinel slipped inside, and I bit my lip, my uncertainty growing as the moments passed. Then the tent door opened, and the Lothlórien queen stood before me, tall and elegant and still, her ancient eyes glittering like stars in a brilliant blue sky.
She did not speak, but instead considered me, taking in my attire, my hair, my face. At last, she waved me inside, and I struggled to gather my thoughts, knowing my words to her must convey the strength of my beliefs. I bowed as she sat slowly, her Lord at her side, and as I straightened from my bow, their extreme beauty, grace and fairness struck me anew. I felt my nervousness increase, for neither of them had yet spoken a word.
Aragorn stepped to my side. "She cannot read you," he explained, adding that it had been a very long age since Galadriel had been unable to break the barriers on either elven or human minds.
Astonished, I returned my gaze to hers, my chin lifting in an effort to hide my intense discomfort. She did not smile, but I sensed she was amused, then someone entered the tent and I saw her eyes shift. Oddly, without even looking, I knew it was not him, but someone close to him, and we turned, Aragorn and I, to greet the elf who stood behind us.
He was tall and slim, with ice blue eyes that studied me while betraying no sign of his thoughts. When he bowed to the Lord and Lady, his eyes never left my face. I straightened my spine, instinct telling me this one doubted me strongly, and kept my chin held high. At that moment, I realized that my apprehension was gone, replaced by an overpowering desire to persuade them that I could do it, that I could heal the one they cared about, the injured elf, Haldir.
I turned back to the Lady, and explained that I was nothing more than what I seemed, that my only thought was to ease the pain of her March Warden. I told her I had healed many, and that my skills had grown of late, though I knew not the reason why. When I finished speaking, she inclined her head and told me she did not object, but that it was not her choice to make. The elf behind me left as silently as he had entered, and Galadriel rose and led me from her tent.
We walked the short distance to Haldir's tent, which was similar to hers but smaller in size. Inside, it seemed dim. A low cot sat along one wall, and strewn about the floor were beautiful woven carpets that softened my footsteps as I stopped just inside the door. He lay on the cot, one knee bent, one arm flung upward to cover his eyes. His long silvery hair cascaded over the edge of the cot, beckoning my gaze to its incredible beauty. The elf with the ice blue eyes sat beside him on a chair, and another who resembled him stood near a small table set with refreshments. I was certain they were Haldir's brothers, though I did not ask.
Galadriel moved over to Haldir and took the seat quickly vacated by the icy elf. Very gently, she reached out and touched her March Warden's arm, speaking softly to him in words I could not understand. Though he removed his arm from his eyes and looked at her, his reply was terse. She frowned and glanced over at me, and I knew he had refused.
My heart sank, and I began to turn away when he spoke again. I turned back and watched as he sat up stiffly, shaking off the hands that thought to help. Although he hid it well, I could see the suffering in his eyes. Had I misunderstood? Was it possible that he would permit the attempted healing?
Aragorn caught my arm, concern for me etched upon his face. I must be careful, he whispered. The elf could deal with more pain than I could imagine. I must not go too far. Understanding, I nodded, and he released me.
Haldir sat with his elbows on his knees, his head raised proudly to look at me as I approached him. His penetrating gray gaze traveled over me, taking in my appearance, and I was caught off-guard by the intensity of my reaction to him.
"So you think you can heal me?" he asked, his voice cold and slightly hostile.
I looked at him, feeling both intimidated and attracted to him, and wanting desperately to hide both emotions from all elven eyes. "I can only try," I said bravely. "I have had many successes, but I have also failed."
He frowned and glanced at Galadriel, who slowly nodded her head in some silent message. He sighed, and returned his gaze to me. "Very well, but I would have your name first."
"Keara," I said steadily.
"Keara," he repeated, stretching out the syllables, and on his lips it sounded like a caress. His eyes moved over me once more in a different sort of assessment, one that was disturbingly male, but what he thought of me I did not know and tried not to care.
I could not bear to have him watch me while I worked, and I somehow summoned the courage to tell him so. The small curve at the corners of his mouth did nothing to relieve my tension, and I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally closed his eyes. Yet his brows were furrowed, telling me that he did not like it, that he would prefer to observe me. This elf was not one who easily yielded control to others.
My hand trembled as I reached out and touched his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. For a moment I felt nothing, and I moved my hand until my palm came in full contact with his flesh. I closed my eyes and found his pulse, its slow, steady beat allowing me to make the necessary connection with him.
For a moment nothing happened, and then the gates burst open and I gasped at the enormity of the suffering that rushed out at me. I felt him stiffen, though from pain or in response to my gasp, I did not know. Exerting my authority, I pushed him down upon the cot with my free hand, my other hand still pressed to his brow as I half leaned, half fell on top of him. Dimly, I knew that his brothers leaped to their feet, but Galadriel must have reassured them, for they did nothing, made no protest.
Haldir lay beneath me while I shuddered violently. His strength of will and capacity to endure pain shocked me, and I struggled to hold my own against the agonizing assault. The totality of months of suffering, both physical and emotional, funneled into me, and I groaned aloud, wondering how he could have continued to survive. Vaguely, I knew that he had wrapped an arm around me as if to offer comfort or support.
A great, howling wall of darkness encircled me as I accepted more and more of his suffering, an almost unendurable onslaught for my human body to take. Distantly, I understood that it was as Aragorn warned, that I could not complete the healing in a single day. I must release Haldir or be lost.
I pulled away, forcing myself back to full consciousness, opening my eyes to see the room in a hazy wash of color. Beneath me, he lay still, and I knew he was unaware of me or anything else. I removed my hand from his brow and tried to rise, only to collapse at once to the rug as everything went black.
* * *
I awoke to dreadful, racking pain, worse than anything I had ever encountered or imagined. I could hear furious, heated whispers nearby, and I turned my head, blinking to clear away the swirling fog that misted my vision. I saw that Aragorn spoke to both of Haldir's brothers while Galadriel stood listening to their rising voices. Their language I could not understand, but I was certain they argued over me. They all turned and looked at me when I struggled to sit up.
As Aragorn came over to assist me, I realized I was no longer in Haldir's tent, but where I was I could not tell nor care. The elf's pain had settled into every bone, muscle and joint in my body, and I bent nearly double, gasping in agony as the King leaned over me, his hands on my arms.
"We should leave now," he said in a low voice.
I shook my head, unable to comprehend, but he did not release his hold on me. Struggling to breathe, I stared blankly at him until his words finally sank in.
"He will want to see you," Aragorn said, his tone full of warning.
I knew suddenly that Haldir had not been told how I healed, and that he would be furious the moment he realized the full extent of what I suffered on his behalf. Aragorn wished to shield me from having to face the elf's wrath. And I strongly suspected he also wished to shield Haldir from a truth that would be a great burden to him.
I looked into Aragorn's concerned face and saw that I was right. Again, I blinked and shook my head, trying to clear my vision, and was startled when the two brothers suddenly stiffened and left the tent. Aragorn's sigh of frustration told me what was coming.
I pushed Aragorn away, forcing away the darkness at the edge of my vision only with the sheer strength of my will. Shaking like a leaf in the wind, I stood and braced myself as Haldir thrust his way into the tent. With a grace I had not seen in him before, he stalked toward me, and I lifted my eyes to look at him, hoping the pain I suffered would not be evident to him.
His hard gray eyes searched my face, and he reached out to grip my chin. Although his fingers were not ungentle, his narrowed gaze and thinning lips told me I hid nothing, and that he was indeed very angry. He understood far more than Aragorn what I had put myself through, and what toll it was taking on me.
"Why?" he demanded roughly. "Why did you do it?"
As he released my chin, I raised it defiantly and tried to smile, tried to make what I had done seem ordinary. "Because this is what I do," I told him. "And I am not yet finished with you."
He gave a derisive snort, then reached out quickly, catching me just as I lost my precarious hold on my balance. I could not breathe, I needed air, and everything hurt so much. Still struggling to hide all this, I pushed futilely against his chest, yet he drew me closer and I could not stop him. Tears welled in my eyes, tears I knew he saw and for which he blamed himself.
"You will not touch me again," he stated, his tone inflexible. "I would not put you through this a second time, nor even a first time had I known the facts."
I shook my head. "Nay, you must not refuse. You must listen to me."
Somehow I found the strength to explain, to tell him that I had not only taken on his pain, but found what caused it. Healed him partially the elves had, but not completely. The shattered nerves were not repaired, and as he held me and my knees gave out, I told him what I had learned. He would never raise his bow again if I did not finish what I started. The strength he needed would never return.
His face went white. Even so, he tightened his hold on me, attempting to exert his dominance, yet I pushed him away and to my relief, he finally yielded. Lightheaded and dizzy, I staggered back, and was caught by Aragorn just as the darkness began to wash over me. I begged him to take me home, the last words I would speak for some time.
* * *
I rose from my bed, slowly testing each joint, bone and muscle to see if it was safe to move. Some minutes passed before I noticed the gown spread across my chair. Frowning, I looked at it, then crossed to my door and peered outside to find Legolas sitting on my doorstep. I stepped back in surprise, and asked him how long he had been there.
He rose gracefully, concern darkening his blue eyes. Four days, he said. Four days I had lain unconscious. Now and then he had entered my room to look at me, to be sure that I was not in need. Aragorn had sent others, but Legolas told me he had sent them away. He told me that I had woken several times, that he had fed me soup, but I did not remember this.
Shocked that it had been so long, I thanked the elf for his care, and moved back into my room, leaving the door open so he might enter if he chose. He followed me, watching as I sat upon my bed and stared in consternation at the wine red gown.
"Who sent this?" I asked him.
Legolas smiled. "It is a gift from Galadriel."
"I do not accept payment for my services." I knew my voice made it clear that I did not want the garment. I was startled by his shocked expression.
"You cannot refuse a gift from the Lady!"
I pondered this, and realized that in this case I had no choice but to accept.
Then he told me that Haldir had come while I was unconscious, that it was he who had delivered the gown. Legolas had not let him into my room, and for this I was grateful, but Haldir had made him agree to send word of my condition, which Legolas had done each day thus far. Galadriel's March Warden had been most insistent, Legolas added with a glimmer of a smile.
He left and I dressed, pulling the unfamiliar garment over me, amazed by the exactness of the fit, which hugged my figure in a way my gray gown had not. Then the dizziness assailed me and I forgot the gown. I was not well. The pain was gone, but my body was not yet fully recovered. I knew, however, that I could afford to wait no longer to finish what I had begun.
I walked through the city with Legolas beside me, his quiet arguments only solidifying my decision to proceed. My steps were slow, but I forced myself to continue, ignoring the pervasive weakness that threatened to defeat me. We passed through the gate, and I paused as several nearby elves turned to stare. Legolas took my arm, reluctant for me to continue, but I pulled away, dragging my feet forward. I knew my friend feared for me, but I, in turn, feared for that other elf who might spend eternity without his strength if I did not complete his healing.
I heard them before I saw them, hidden between the brightly colored tents, their voices sounding cheerful though I did not know the meaning of their words. I had paused before Galadriel's tent when all three of them appeared. Haldir's brothers stopped abruptly upon seeing me, but Haldir continued walking, his movements graceful and deliberate. His gaze slid over me quite carefully before he glanced at Legolas, who coolly returned the look before he reached out to grip the March Warden's shoulder. Legolas spoke with courtesy, but I could feel the tension between the two elves.
I studied the three elven brothers. Haldir returned my look, but I could not read his expression, while his two brothers looked concerned. I stepped closer to Haldir, ignoring the fluttering in my chest as I met those glittering gray eyes.
"Why have you come?" he asked.
"You know why I have come," I said, with a boldness I did not feel. "To complete what we began."
His dark brows pulled together in a frown. "It is too soon for you, Keara."
"And it could well be too late for you," I replied with stubbornness. "This healing must be completed soon if it is to be successful. But it is your choice. You can live forever as you are, or allow me to help you to regain your strength. I can do it."
His eyes narrowed, and I trembled inwardly while I waited for him to speak. What would happen to me I could not say, but I would not tell him that. I only knew that I badly wanted to heal him, that for him, I would suffer the pain gladly. My heart trembled with the knowledge that a part of me had already been lost to him, but this I would not admit even to myself.
I could see him struggle with his decision, and felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders when he finally nodded. He grasped my arm above the elbow, gently escorting me along with him toward his tent. Enjoying the sensation of his hand, I pushed away my dread and fear of what was to come.
As before, he sat upon the cot, and I noted with pleasure how extraordinarily graceful he now was, how elegant in his movements. His brothers accompanied us, their concerned and quiet murmurs unintelligible to my ear.
He could not know what it cost me to lay my hand once more upon his brow, to feel the warmth of his skin again, to seek his pulse and allow it to beat in time with mine. To my surprise, he looked into my eyes and gripped my waist as I drew closer, and it broke my concentration for a moment. Then he sighed and closed his eyes, yielding control to me.
Perhaps it was best that I was not prepared for the connection when it hit me. His body jerked, his brothers catching him as he fell back, while I ended up half on my knees and half on top of him. Again, he somehow found the strength to wrap an arm around me before he lost consciousness; perhaps this is part of what saved me, I do not know.
I had thought I knew the depths of his suffering, but as I had hidden much from him, so had he hidden much from me. A secret cache of pain still resided in him, and I shuddered and gasped as it battered me, illogically seeking refuge by curling my body close to his. Stubbornly clinging to my purpose, I pushed my way through the shadows, seeking that which I needed to find. My mind grew muddled, yet by the grace of the Valar, I was able to complete my task before I released him.
For me, it was an instant too late; I floundered helplessly, but felt myself being swept over the edge into a vast black void. I knew nothing. Darkness surrounded me, chilled me with its coldness. No light, no gray glimmer guided me. I flailed in fear as I felt the shadows engulfing me. I was lost and terrified.
How could I find my way back? I sobbed as the heaviness of the shadows bore down on me, cowering as I tried to control my fear. The thought that I might never see the light again horrified me. I wrapped my arms around myself, searching for something real, something to light my way.
A thought grew in my mind, and like one who was drowning, I clutched at it. The thought grew, took the form of a vision and gradually became substantial, real enough to touch and hold. It had breath and life and depth and solidity. It spoke to me in words I did not know, calling to me, calling me back to the light.
The vision I gripped so tightly, the vision that kept me from falling into the chasm that would never have let me go, was of a tall, silver- haired, gray-eyed elf.
Him.
I sat huddled in my room, staring at the walls as the compulsion to seek out the King grew stronger every moment I denied it. Like the day with the young girl, I soon found myself drawn unwillingly toward the heights and the White Tower of Minas Tirith. Again, I faced the gates, but this time the guards smiled and opened them wide for my entrance.
Inside, I looked down at the tattered gown I wore, ashamed I had no better, then gazed upward at the great steps leading to the tower and the small tree that blossomed so beautifully in front. Hesitating, I sat on a large stone near the tree, my heart so heavy I could not bear to go on. What could I, a simple healer, do that the elves could not? I laughed without humor, my arms wrapped around myself in an effort to thwart my doubts and lack of confidence. All I had to cling to was the image of the injured elf and my own stubbornness.
I finally gave in and started up the stairs to the tower, when to my surprise Aragorn appeared, striding down the steps to meet me halfway. With a relieved look, he took my hand and led me to the top, but I balked as he made to bring me inside. My cheeks flushed red, and he stared at me in confusion until he saw me glance at my dress and realized the source of my embarrassment. With a smile, he bade me to wait, and disappeared into the vast confines of the hall.
I stood uncomfortably, not knowing what he expected of me, then a moment later he reappeared and I understood. My blush grew as I realized he had brought his wife, Arwen, to meet me, yet she smiled and welcomed me kindly, and touched my arm with her hand.
I turned to the King and spoke the reason I had come, and he nodded and blessed me for my courage, kissing the tips of my fingers in a gesture of sincere gratitude. As I turned to leave, the Queen stopped me with another touch of her hand. A handmaiden I could be if the desire was mine. I shook my head and thanked her, but I could not accept. My time in the White City neared its end, though how I knew this I could not say. They watched me leave, and I hurried down the stair, having agreed to go to the injured elf upon the following morn.
* * *
I woke the next day in restless dread, and as I dressed, I stared into my own eyes in the small mirror above my bed. Why should I fear? And was the fear for him?
I left my room and moved slowly down the street, oblivious to the crowd around me. Someone pulled at my skirt and I flinched, then saw that it was only Gwinnyth. She smiled and placed her hand in mine, and I felt strangely calmed as she walked with me toward the gate of the city.
I stopped outside the gate, gazing upon the vast plain now littered with hundreds of colorful tents. The elves had chosen to remain out here, and I could see quite a number of them moving gracefully among the tents. Gwinnyth stood with me while I hesitated, wondering where to go, then I heard Aragorn's voice, and turned.
He would take me to speak with the Lady Galadriel before I made my offer to Haldir. The King's frown spoke of his worry that the proud elf might refuse my help. With a sigh, I knelt beside the child, Gwinnyth, and she hugged me as I said farewell. Then I rose, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I thought of what was to come.
Aragorn led me through the maze of bright tents to one of silk and gold, larger than the rest, its standards waving high in the morning breeze. We stopped before the sentinels, and I could not help staring at the elves who stood so tall, their long, silvery hair glinting in the sunlight. Their greenish black tunics contrasted starkly with the tent, and the presence of their weapons served to remind me who they guarded.
Their piercing gazes rested on me as Aragorn spoke to them in the Elvish tongue. One sentinel slipped inside, and I bit my lip, my uncertainty growing as the moments passed. Then the tent door opened, and the Lothlórien queen stood before me, tall and elegant and still, her ancient eyes glittering like stars in a brilliant blue sky.
She did not speak, but instead considered me, taking in my attire, my hair, my face. At last, she waved me inside, and I struggled to gather my thoughts, knowing my words to her must convey the strength of my beliefs. I bowed as she sat slowly, her Lord at her side, and as I straightened from my bow, their extreme beauty, grace and fairness struck me anew. I felt my nervousness increase, for neither of them had yet spoken a word.
Aragorn stepped to my side. "She cannot read you," he explained, adding that it had been a very long age since Galadriel had been unable to break the barriers on either elven or human minds.
Astonished, I returned my gaze to hers, my chin lifting in an effort to hide my intense discomfort. She did not smile, but I sensed she was amused, then someone entered the tent and I saw her eyes shift. Oddly, without even looking, I knew it was not him, but someone close to him, and we turned, Aragorn and I, to greet the elf who stood behind us.
He was tall and slim, with ice blue eyes that studied me while betraying no sign of his thoughts. When he bowed to the Lord and Lady, his eyes never left my face. I straightened my spine, instinct telling me this one doubted me strongly, and kept my chin held high. At that moment, I realized that my apprehension was gone, replaced by an overpowering desire to persuade them that I could do it, that I could heal the one they cared about, the injured elf, Haldir.
I turned back to the Lady, and explained that I was nothing more than what I seemed, that my only thought was to ease the pain of her March Warden. I told her I had healed many, and that my skills had grown of late, though I knew not the reason why. When I finished speaking, she inclined her head and told me she did not object, but that it was not her choice to make. The elf behind me left as silently as he had entered, and Galadriel rose and led me from her tent.
We walked the short distance to Haldir's tent, which was similar to hers but smaller in size. Inside, it seemed dim. A low cot sat along one wall, and strewn about the floor were beautiful woven carpets that softened my footsteps as I stopped just inside the door. He lay on the cot, one knee bent, one arm flung upward to cover his eyes. His long silvery hair cascaded over the edge of the cot, beckoning my gaze to its incredible beauty. The elf with the ice blue eyes sat beside him on a chair, and another who resembled him stood near a small table set with refreshments. I was certain they were Haldir's brothers, though I did not ask.
Galadriel moved over to Haldir and took the seat quickly vacated by the icy elf. Very gently, she reached out and touched her March Warden's arm, speaking softly to him in words I could not understand. Though he removed his arm from his eyes and looked at her, his reply was terse. She frowned and glanced over at me, and I knew he had refused.
My heart sank, and I began to turn away when he spoke again. I turned back and watched as he sat up stiffly, shaking off the hands that thought to help. Although he hid it well, I could see the suffering in his eyes. Had I misunderstood? Was it possible that he would permit the attempted healing?
Aragorn caught my arm, concern for me etched upon his face. I must be careful, he whispered. The elf could deal with more pain than I could imagine. I must not go too far. Understanding, I nodded, and he released me.
Haldir sat with his elbows on his knees, his head raised proudly to look at me as I approached him. His penetrating gray gaze traveled over me, taking in my appearance, and I was caught off-guard by the intensity of my reaction to him.
"So you think you can heal me?" he asked, his voice cold and slightly hostile.
I looked at him, feeling both intimidated and attracted to him, and wanting desperately to hide both emotions from all elven eyes. "I can only try," I said bravely. "I have had many successes, but I have also failed."
He frowned and glanced at Galadriel, who slowly nodded her head in some silent message. He sighed, and returned his gaze to me. "Very well, but I would have your name first."
"Keara," I said steadily.
"Keara," he repeated, stretching out the syllables, and on his lips it sounded like a caress. His eyes moved over me once more in a different sort of assessment, one that was disturbingly male, but what he thought of me I did not know and tried not to care.
I could not bear to have him watch me while I worked, and I somehow summoned the courage to tell him so. The small curve at the corners of his mouth did nothing to relieve my tension, and I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally closed his eyes. Yet his brows were furrowed, telling me that he did not like it, that he would prefer to observe me. This elf was not one who easily yielded control to others.
My hand trembled as I reached out and touched his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. For a moment I felt nothing, and I moved my hand until my palm came in full contact with his flesh. I closed my eyes and found his pulse, its slow, steady beat allowing me to make the necessary connection with him.
For a moment nothing happened, and then the gates burst open and I gasped at the enormity of the suffering that rushed out at me. I felt him stiffen, though from pain or in response to my gasp, I did not know. Exerting my authority, I pushed him down upon the cot with my free hand, my other hand still pressed to his brow as I half leaned, half fell on top of him. Dimly, I knew that his brothers leaped to their feet, but Galadriel must have reassured them, for they did nothing, made no protest.
Haldir lay beneath me while I shuddered violently. His strength of will and capacity to endure pain shocked me, and I struggled to hold my own against the agonizing assault. The totality of months of suffering, both physical and emotional, funneled into me, and I groaned aloud, wondering how he could have continued to survive. Vaguely, I knew that he had wrapped an arm around me as if to offer comfort or support.
A great, howling wall of darkness encircled me as I accepted more and more of his suffering, an almost unendurable onslaught for my human body to take. Distantly, I understood that it was as Aragorn warned, that I could not complete the healing in a single day. I must release Haldir or be lost.
I pulled away, forcing myself back to full consciousness, opening my eyes to see the room in a hazy wash of color. Beneath me, he lay still, and I knew he was unaware of me or anything else. I removed my hand from his brow and tried to rise, only to collapse at once to the rug as everything went black.
* * *
I awoke to dreadful, racking pain, worse than anything I had ever encountered or imagined. I could hear furious, heated whispers nearby, and I turned my head, blinking to clear away the swirling fog that misted my vision. I saw that Aragorn spoke to both of Haldir's brothers while Galadriel stood listening to their rising voices. Their language I could not understand, but I was certain they argued over me. They all turned and looked at me when I struggled to sit up.
As Aragorn came over to assist me, I realized I was no longer in Haldir's tent, but where I was I could not tell nor care. The elf's pain had settled into every bone, muscle and joint in my body, and I bent nearly double, gasping in agony as the King leaned over me, his hands on my arms.
"We should leave now," he said in a low voice.
I shook my head, unable to comprehend, but he did not release his hold on me. Struggling to breathe, I stared blankly at him until his words finally sank in.
"He will want to see you," Aragorn said, his tone full of warning.
I knew suddenly that Haldir had not been told how I healed, and that he would be furious the moment he realized the full extent of what I suffered on his behalf. Aragorn wished to shield me from having to face the elf's wrath. And I strongly suspected he also wished to shield Haldir from a truth that would be a great burden to him.
I looked into Aragorn's concerned face and saw that I was right. Again, I blinked and shook my head, trying to clear my vision, and was startled when the two brothers suddenly stiffened and left the tent. Aragorn's sigh of frustration told me what was coming.
I pushed Aragorn away, forcing away the darkness at the edge of my vision only with the sheer strength of my will. Shaking like a leaf in the wind, I stood and braced myself as Haldir thrust his way into the tent. With a grace I had not seen in him before, he stalked toward me, and I lifted my eyes to look at him, hoping the pain I suffered would not be evident to him.
His hard gray eyes searched my face, and he reached out to grip my chin. Although his fingers were not ungentle, his narrowed gaze and thinning lips told me I hid nothing, and that he was indeed very angry. He understood far more than Aragorn what I had put myself through, and what toll it was taking on me.
"Why?" he demanded roughly. "Why did you do it?"
As he released my chin, I raised it defiantly and tried to smile, tried to make what I had done seem ordinary. "Because this is what I do," I told him. "And I am not yet finished with you."
He gave a derisive snort, then reached out quickly, catching me just as I lost my precarious hold on my balance. I could not breathe, I needed air, and everything hurt so much. Still struggling to hide all this, I pushed futilely against his chest, yet he drew me closer and I could not stop him. Tears welled in my eyes, tears I knew he saw and for which he blamed himself.
"You will not touch me again," he stated, his tone inflexible. "I would not put you through this a second time, nor even a first time had I known the facts."
I shook my head. "Nay, you must not refuse. You must listen to me."
Somehow I found the strength to explain, to tell him that I had not only taken on his pain, but found what caused it. Healed him partially the elves had, but not completely. The shattered nerves were not repaired, and as he held me and my knees gave out, I told him what I had learned. He would never raise his bow again if I did not finish what I started. The strength he needed would never return.
His face went white. Even so, he tightened his hold on me, attempting to exert his dominance, yet I pushed him away and to my relief, he finally yielded. Lightheaded and dizzy, I staggered back, and was caught by Aragorn just as the darkness began to wash over me. I begged him to take me home, the last words I would speak for some time.
* * *
I rose from my bed, slowly testing each joint, bone and muscle to see if it was safe to move. Some minutes passed before I noticed the gown spread across my chair. Frowning, I looked at it, then crossed to my door and peered outside to find Legolas sitting on my doorstep. I stepped back in surprise, and asked him how long he had been there.
He rose gracefully, concern darkening his blue eyes. Four days, he said. Four days I had lain unconscious. Now and then he had entered my room to look at me, to be sure that I was not in need. Aragorn had sent others, but Legolas told me he had sent them away. He told me that I had woken several times, that he had fed me soup, but I did not remember this.
Shocked that it had been so long, I thanked the elf for his care, and moved back into my room, leaving the door open so he might enter if he chose. He followed me, watching as I sat upon my bed and stared in consternation at the wine red gown.
"Who sent this?" I asked him.
Legolas smiled. "It is a gift from Galadriel."
"I do not accept payment for my services." I knew my voice made it clear that I did not want the garment. I was startled by his shocked expression.
"You cannot refuse a gift from the Lady!"
I pondered this, and realized that in this case I had no choice but to accept.
Then he told me that Haldir had come while I was unconscious, that it was he who had delivered the gown. Legolas had not let him into my room, and for this I was grateful, but Haldir had made him agree to send word of my condition, which Legolas had done each day thus far. Galadriel's March Warden had been most insistent, Legolas added with a glimmer of a smile.
He left and I dressed, pulling the unfamiliar garment over me, amazed by the exactness of the fit, which hugged my figure in a way my gray gown had not. Then the dizziness assailed me and I forgot the gown. I was not well. The pain was gone, but my body was not yet fully recovered. I knew, however, that I could afford to wait no longer to finish what I had begun.
I walked through the city with Legolas beside me, his quiet arguments only solidifying my decision to proceed. My steps were slow, but I forced myself to continue, ignoring the pervasive weakness that threatened to defeat me. We passed through the gate, and I paused as several nearby elves turned to stare. Legolas took my arm, reluctant for me to continue, but I pulled away, dragging my feet forward. I knew my friend feared for me, but I, in turn, feared for that other elf who might spend eternity without his strength if I did not complete his healing.
I heard them before I saw them, hidden between the brightly colored tents, their voices sounding cheerful though I did not know the meaning of their words. I had paused before Galadriel's tent when all three of them appeared. Haldir's brothers stopped abruptly upon seeing me, but Haldir continued walking, his movements graceful and deliberate. His gaze slid over me quite carefully before he glanced at Legolas, who coolly returned the look before he reached out to grip the March Warden's shoulder. Legolas spoke with courtesy, but I could feel the tension between the two elves.
I studied the three elven brothers. Haldir returned my look, but I could not read his expression, while his two brothers looked concerned. I stepped closer to Haldir, ignoring the fluttering in my chest as I met those glittering gray eyes.
"Why have you come?" he asked.
"You know why I have come," I said, with a boldness I did not feel. "To complete what we began."
His dark brows pulled together in a frown. "It is too soon for you, Keara."
"And it could well be too late for you," I replied with stubbornness. "This healing must be completed soon if it is to be successful. But it is your choice. You can live forever as you are, or allow me to help you to regain your strength. I can do it."
His eyes narrowed, and I trembled inwardly while I waited for him to speak. What would happen to me I could not say, but I would not tell him that. I only knew that I badly wanted to heal him, that for him, I would suffer the pain gladly. My heart trembled with the knowledge that a part of me had already been lost to him, but this I would not admit even to myself.
I could see him struggle with his decision, and felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders when he finally nodded. He grasped my arm above the elbow, gently escorting me along with him toward his tent. Enjoying the sensation of his hand, I pushed away my dread and fear of what was to come.
As before, he sat upon the cot, and I noted with pleasure how extraordinarily graceful he now was, how elegant in his movements. His brothers accompanied us, their concerned and quiet murmurs unintelligible to my ear.
He could not know what it cost me to lay my hand once more upon his brow, to feel the warmth of his skin again, to seek his pulse and allow it to beat in time with mine. To my surprise, he looked into my eyes and gripped my waist as I drew closer, and it broke my concentration for a moment. Then he sighed and closed his eyes, yielding control to me.
Perhaps it was best that I was not prepared for the connection when it hit me. His body jerked, his brothers catching him as he fell back, while I ended up half on my knees and half on top of him. Again, he somehow found the strength to wrap an arm around me before he lost consciousness; perhaps this is part of what saved me, I do not know.
I had thought I knew the depths of his suffering, but as I had hidden much from him, so had he hidden much from me. A secret cache of pain still resided in him, and I shuddered and gasped as it battered me, illogically seeking refuge by curling my body close to his. Stubbornly clinging to my purpose, I pushed my way through the shadows, seeking that which I needed to find. My mind grew muddled, yet by the grace of the Valar, I was able to complete my task before I released him.
For me, it was an instant too late; I floundered helplessly, but felt myself being swept over the edge into a vast black void. I knew nothing. Darkness surrounded me, chilled me with its coldness. No light, no gray glimmer guided me. I flailed in fear as I felt the shadows engulfing me. I was lost and terrified.
How could I find my way back? I sobbed as the heaviness of the shadows bore down on me, cowering as I tried to control my fear. The thought that I might never see the light again horrified me. I wrapped my arms around myself, searching for something real, something to light my way.
A thought grew in my mind, and like one who was drowning, I clutched at it. The thought grew, took the form of a vision and gradually became substantial, real enough to touch and hold. It had breath and life and depth and solidity. It spoke to me in words I did not know, calling to me, calling me back to the light.
The vision I gripped so tightly, the vision that kept me from falling into the chasm that would never have let me go, was of a tall, silver- haired, gray-eyed elf.
Him.