A/N: Yes, I know I should be working on my other two fics. I do know they
badly need updating. Unfortunately, this plotbunny will not let me be.
This chapter is meant to act as a stand-alone, though others' point-of-
views may/may not be added later, MP [Muse Permitting]
Unless noted otherwise, kindly assume that the beings here are speaking in Elvish. I have not been able to find an accurate dictionary (Grey-Companies is not accurate!), and so have been forced to use English.
I have very specific characterizations for all I write about. If any disagree, please either review or email. sunsongsilver@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's, not mine, etc. Even all those hot men and elves in the Silmarillion.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I stared, looking over the sea, towards the West and towards Valinor. I gazed, until the sight of her ship was lost, even to my half-elvish eyes. She had left me. And she had promised she never would. I released her. I can see it now.
****
My sons came riding in, blood-stained, muck-spattered, a cloak-wrapped burden on Elladan's horse, which Elladan did his best to keep atop his stallion, yet not to touch. Elrohir's knuckles white as he clutched at the reins of his stallion. Both their quivers were nearly empty. I was standing on the balcony overlooking the entrance to the Last Homely House. As they rode through, something about that cloaked figure caught at my eye, yet I knew nothing more than that person was a female, and so tired she barely stayed mounted, yet flinched from any touch.
Elladan held his horse steady as Elrohir dismounted and helped her down. She started to walk- and crumpled, making a small noise of distress. I turned swiftly from the window- I knew- what am I saying? I know that voice! I ran from the balcony, down steps, through rooms, hoping that what I feared had not happened.
I hoped in vain. I reached the courtyard. My wife- it was her voice- lay in Elrohir's arms.
"Ada," he began.
"Later," I said. "Speak later, for now go in. I will take her from here." He handed her gently, as though she might shatter, to my arms. As I reached to take her, she flinched from me. I pretended to take no notice; there was no time. I bore her swiftly in.
There are reasons a healer will seldom operate on one he or she cares for. There is none other with my skill, and so I put my feelings to the side, as I had before. I told myself I would not feel, not until this was done. When I hurt her, and I would, in the cleansing of this wound, I would feel the hurt later. I would cry later, for I must act now. Then, as I had before, I closed my heart and bent to my task. Elladan and Elrohir acted as my attendants. Arwen saw to Rivendell.
I undressed her, and set about seeing to the wound in her side. The wound was poisoned, infected, and not recent. It would take much skill and time to heal her. At least it was a sword wound, not an arrow wound, and shallow. Elladan, after telling me what had happened, considerately did not speak. Elrohir had busied himself with my medicine chest. I would not have trusted myself to answer, and spoke as little as possible.
We worked late that night. Indeed, over the next few weeks, my sons and I were at a remove from time. My daughter has little aptitude for healing, but she tried. The Eldar may take little notice of its passing, but notice they do. I only knew that every few hours I would wake, change the bandaging, and spend the next few hours keeping her fever from rising further, and using whatever resources I possessed to hold the poison in her at bay.
Than there came a time when I, and my sons were all awake at once. And as we gazed down at her slumbering form, we knew that what we had accomplished would not be enough to save her. Her closed lids bore witness to that. Yet I had no more to give and our children had some time before this reached their limits. I knew, and they knew, that although the wound had scabbed over, the poison was trapped inside. And I had no more strength to combat it. I could give no more. Any further healing must now stem from whatever strength had not been leached from her by orc-poison. The wound had been left to itself too long. The poison had been halted, but it had already reached her lungs. I had but kept her lungs from constriction, and safe-guarded her heart and brain. Now, her breathing was labored, and there was nothing I could do. NOTHING! Nothing beyond an application of steam that made even Elvish hair become frizzy. I had become a healer so I could do something, so many Eldar had died- so many had died, and again I stood helpless.
I did not know if she could hear me, but I took the chance. "Celebrian. Come back. Come back to us." I can be eloquent, but then, then when I would have said so many things, I was dumb. I smoothed some hair over her brow. Her eyes with their dark lashes were closed, bearing witness to her illness. "Love." The word felt strange. It is so little a word, so great a feeling. "Please return." I could say no more. The feelings that I had sealed away of necessity had grown like weeds to choke my breath.
Elrohir placed a hand on my shoulder. I whirled. He drew back, startled. I made the effort not to cry. I could see the worry in their faces. I would be strong. Elrohir had drawn back, Celebrian had flinched away . . .
I would not continue that train of thought. I held out my arms. Hoping, praying to Elbereth that they would not be too old, that Elladan would forget his dignity, that Elrohir would not object to so close a contact. . .
They rushed into my arms. I tried to hold them, as I had when they were little (they had been so little at birth!), but I could not tell them "it will be well," as I had with the storms, and with the orcs "Elladan swore were under the bed, Ada, he did!" For I did not know it would be well. Even now, I cannot say it has turned out "well." I could not say "this storm will pass" or hunt out my sword. I could not know this storm would pass, and the only weapons (what mortals call magic, and herb-lore) I can wield in this kind of battle had been shattered.
Soon though, I was clinging to my children as hard as they were clutching me. None of us spoke. I could not speak. I half-suspect they did not wish to. Oddly, Elladan enjoys silence and Elrohir possesses a great measure of tact. Too soon, it had ended. Elladan had remembered his dignity and Elrohir his dislike of prolonged contact. I turned back to the bed. Although I did not take her hand (she had flinched from me before), I fell into a chair by the head of the bed, and set myself to watch for any change.
I had no weapons now. I had no more herb-lore. I thought I had no more strength. Elladan, and Elrohir were closer to an unwounded death then any Eldar has right. Undomiel, for all her strengths, can do little on this battlefield.
"Go." I said, my voice raspy and harsh. "Go and sleep. I will endure." Elladan made as if to go. It was his younger brother, Elrohir, who remained.
"Ada." I turned my head to look at him. "Ada, come to bed too. You are as tired as we. You too, need sleep. Arwen can watch."
"No."
"You have barely let her see our mother in all this time. Let her in." I bowed my head.
"Then she may come," I gestured with my left hand. "But I will not leave this room."
"Then sleep in the chair. But sleep!" He did not know how much his face and tone of voice fleetingly resembled his mother's, that night she had seen me with a new shipment of scrolls from Numenor. The thought was almost amusing. I gave him the same reply I had given her.
"Soon." I was able to stay awake until my daughter came, then I became conscious of how tired I was, and how soft this stone chair was, and.
***
The sun was setting in a glory of orange and red and gold. She had promised never to leave me. They all had left. Ada and Amme and Maedhros and Maglor and my brother. Elros, who had known me, as few others had cared. He had been my opposite, my mortal half, we had joked, my shadow. He had been brash and foolhardy and foolish. He was also brave and honorable and intelligent and kind. But he was as unsuited to the lifespan of the Eldar as I am for a mortal life. And now she was leaving too.
*~*~*~**~*~*~*~
A/N: I seem to have this penchant for writing multichaptered stories. Ah well, blame the plotbunny. If you wish another chapter, you might consider feeding the plotbunny with reviews . . .
*Turns to muse.* Why do all my stories take so long?! This was supposed
to be ONE chapter. NOW look at it! I'll hafta' update, and all the rest
of that stuff. Feckless flapdraon of a flippin' fewmet. And so on and
so forth.
*Turns back to bored readers. * Ah well. I was feeling angsty today.
How much do you wanna' bet it shows?
The only two words of Elvish I know: Ada is daddy and amme is mommy.
Unless noted otherwise, kindly assume that the beings here are speaking in Elvish. I have not been able to find an accurate dictionary (Grey-Companies is not accurate!), and so have been forced to use English.
I have very specific characterizations for all I write about. If any disagree, please either review or email. sunsongsilver@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All Tolkien's, not mine, etc. Even all those hot men and elves in the Silmarillion.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I stared, looking over the sea, towards the West and towards Valinor. I gazed, until the sight of her ship was lost, even to my half-elvish eyes. She had left me. And she had promised she never would. I released her. I can see it now.
****
My sons came riding in, blood-stained, muck-spattered, a cloak-wrapped burden on Elladan's horse, which Elladan did his best to keep atop his stallion, yet not to touch. Elrohir's knuckles white as he clutched at the reins of his stallion. Both their quivers were nearly empty. I was standing on the balcony overlooking the entrance to the Last Homely House. As they rode through, something about that cloaked figure caught at my eye, yet I knew nothing more than that person was a female, and so tired she barely stayed mounted, yet flinched from any touch.
Elladan held his horse steady as Elrohir dismounted and helped her down. She started to walk- and crumpled, making a small noise of distress. I turned swiftly from the window- I knew- what am I saying? I know that voice! I ran from the balcony, down steps, through rooms, hoping that what I feared had not happened.
I hoped in vain. I reached the courtyard. My wife- it was her voice- lay in Elrohir's arms.
"Ada," he began.
"Later," I said. "Speak later, for now go in. I will take her from here." He handed her gently, as though she might shatter, to my arms. As I reached to take her, she flinched from me. I pretended to take no notice; there was no time. I bore her swiftly in.
There are reasons a healer will seldom operate on one he or she cares for. There is none other with my skill, and so I put my feelings to the side, as I had before. I told myself I would not feel, not until this was done. When I hurt her, and I would, in the cleansing of this wound, I would feel the hurt later. I would cry later, for I must act now. Then, as I had before, I closed my heart and bent to my task. Elladan and Elrohir acted as my attendants. Arwen saw to Rivendell.
I undressed her, and set about seeing to the wound in her side. The wound was poisoned, infected, and not recent. It would take much skill and time to heal her. At least it was a sword wound, not an arrow wound, and shallow. Elladan, after telling me what had happened, considerately did not speak. Elrohir had busied himself with my medicine chest. I would not have trusted myself to answer, and spoke as little as possible.
We worked late that night. Indeed, over the next few weeks, my sons and I were at a remove from time. My daughter has little aptitude for healing, but she tried. The Eldar may take little notice of its passing, but notice they do. I only knew that every few hours I would wake, change the bandaging, and spend the next few hours keeping her fever from rising further, and using whatever resources I possessed to hold the poison in her at bay.
Than there came a time when I, and my sons were all awake at once. And as we gazed down at her slumbering form, we knew that what we had accomplished would not be enough to save her. Her closed lids bore witness to that. Yet I had no more to give and our children had some time before this reached their limits. I knew, and they knew, that although the wound had scabbed over, the poison was trapped inside. And I had no more strength to combat it. I could give no more. Any further healing must now stem from whatever strength had not been leached from her by orc-poison. The wound had been left to itself too long. The poison had been halted, but it had already reached her lungs. I had but kept her lungs from constriction, and safe-guarded her heart and brain. Now, her breathing was labored, and there was nothing I could do. NOTHING! Nothing beyond an application of steam that made even Elvish hair become frizzy. I had become a healer so I could do something, so many Eldar had died- so many had died, and again I stood helpless.
I did not know if she could hear me, but I took the chance. "Celebrian. Come back. Come back to us." I can be eloquent, but then, then when I would have said so many things, I was dumb. I smoothed some hair over her brow. Her eyes with their dark lashes were closed, bearing witness to her illness. "Love." The word felt strange. It is so little a word, so great a feeling. "Please return." I could say no more. The feelings that I had sealed away of necessity had grown like weeds to choke my breath.
Elrohir placed a hand on my shoulder. I whirled. He drew back, startled. I made the effort not to cry. I could see the worry in their faces. I would be strong. Elrohir had drawn back, Celebrian had flinched away . . .
I would not continue that train of thought. I held out my arms. Hoping, praying to Elbereth that they would not be too old, that Elladan would forget his dignity, that Elrohir would not object to so close a contact. . .
They rushed into my arms. I tried to hold them, as I had when they were little (they had been so little at birth!), but I could not tell them "it will be well," as I had with the storms, and with the orcs "Elladan swore were under the bed, Ada, he did!" For I did not know it would be well. Even now, I cannot say it has turned out "well." I could not say "this storm will pass" or hunt out my sword. I could not know this storm would pass, and the only weapons (what mortals call magic, and herb-lore) I can wield in this kind of battle had been shattered.
Soon though, I was clinging to my children as hard as they were clutching me. None of us spoke. I could not speak. I half-suspect they did not wish to. Oddly, Elladan enjoys silence and Elrohir possesses a great measure of tact. Too soon, it had ended. Elladan had remembered his dignity and Elrohir his dislike of prolonged contact. I turned back to the bed. Although I did not take her hand (she had flinched from me before), I fell into a chair by the head of the bed, and set myself to watch for any change.
I had no weapons now. I had no more herb-lore. I thought I had no more strength. Elladan, and Elrohir were closer to an unwounded death then any Eldar has right. Undomiel, for all her strengths, can do little on this battlefield.
"Go." I said, my voice raspy and harsh. "Go and sleep. I will endure." Elladan made as if to go. It was his younger brother, Elrohir, who remained.
"Ada." I turned my head to look at him. "Ada, come to bed too. You are as tired as we. You too, need sleep. Arwen can watch."
"No."
"You have barely let her see our mother in all this time. Let her in." I bowed my head.
"Then she may come," I gestured with my left hand. "But I will not leave this room."
"Then sleep in the chair. But sleep!" He did not know how much his face and tone of voice fleetingly resembled his mother's, that night she had seen me with a new shipment of scrolls from Numenor. The thought was almost amusing. I gave him the same reply I had given her.
"Soon." I was able to stay awake until my daughter came, then I became conscious of how tired I was, and how soft this stone chair was, and.
***
The sun was setting in a glory of orange and red and gold. She had promised never to leave me. They all had left. Ada and Amme and Maedhros and Maglor and my brother. Elros, who had known me, as few others had cared. He had been my opposite, my mortal half, we had joked, my shadow. He had been brash and foolhardy and foolish. He was also brave and honorable and intelligent and kind. But he was as unsuited to the lifespan of the Eldar as I am for a mortal life. And now she was leaving too.
*~*~*~**~*~*~*~
A/N: I seem to have this penchant for writing multichaptered stories. Ah well, blame the plotbunny. If you wish another chapter, you might consider feeding the plotbunny with reviews . . .
*Turns to muse.* Why do all my stories take so long?! This was supposed
to be ONE chapter. NOW look at it! I'll hafta' update, and all the rest
of that stuff. Feckless flapdraon of a flippin' fewmet. And so on and
so forth.
*Turns back to bored readers. * Ah well. I was feeling angsty today.
How much do you wanna' bet it shows?
The only two words of Elvish I know: Ada is daddy and amme is mommy.