A/N: Thank you for the gracious reviews, they are greatly appreciated!
Chapter Two:
Elrond allowed his hand to linger for a moment, then lightly sweep down the cooling cheek. His fingers tingled oddly and he strove to collect himself from the warmth that rushed through his soul. Focusing back on the stranger's glazed eyes, he dismissed his sons. "Go, attend to your morning duties, I'll continue to take watch here."
Elladan hesitated for a bit and then relented. "I shall relieve you as the sun peaks, so you may rest, Ada." He leaned over, hugged his father and turned to leave.
Elrohir also offered his father an embrace, then turned and followed his brother from the room.
Sitting down in the bedside chair, Elrond studied his newest patient. Many things about this whole circumstance unnerved him - and yet his strange attraction to this elf still sat foremost in his mind. Settling his robes about him, he shifted in the cushioned chair and thought back to yesterday evening.
"My Lord, a runner comes from the border guards. Your sons are
returning with an injured visitor. They signaled a fierce orc attack
on the eastern boundary!"
Elrond rose from his desk and bade the servant to run to the healing
rooms and prepare for their arrival. Knowing his sons, there was a
fear in his heart that the stranger was not the only one to require
his abilities.
He entered the houses of healing just as Elladan placed a blonde elf
upon one of the raised beds. His eldest son was covered in blood and
dirt. Raising an eyebrow, Elrond immediately relaxed as his son
assured him. "We are not injured, Ada. We found this elf fighting
off a pack of orcs, he had killed several before we even arrived.
However, he's sustained one injury that deeply troubles me."
Elrond gave an encouraging, one-armed hug to his son, smiled at
Elrohir and then glanced down at his new patient. Although he knew
his face revealed nothing, a deep sense of shock jarred his soul. The
elf before him was not one he was familiar with - by the clothing and
coloring he was Silvan - and yet Elrond sensed a number of images at
once. Pushing aside the overwhelming emotions, he focused on his
patient and injuries.
They stripped off the blood soaked clothing and covered his nakedness
with a softly woven sleeping cloth. Elrond spent the next several
candlemarks directing Elladan and Elrohir in the mixing of herbal
poultices to treat wounds and draw out the orc poison, while he
cleaned and bandaged the other injuries.
Elrond cursed under his breath, as yet another variation of the evil
poisons stubbornly fought his remedies. Packing the wound with mixture
of altheas, henbane and goldenseal, he tightly bandaged the thigh and
sat back to wait.
Dispatching his sons to refresh themselves and eat, Elrond once again
studied his charge. Half-closed eyes indicated the deep level of
unconsciousness. A severe bruise on his forehead could not disguise
the beauty of his features. Broad shoulders carried the muscular arms
of an archer, the calluses on the fingertips confirmed his work with a
bow. Even under the sheet, Elrond could see the outline of the taught
muscles of his stomach and the muscular length of thighs used to
running.
Deciding it was best to see how much he could learn from his
uncommunicative patient, Elrond leaned forward and placed a gentle
hand on his brow. Drawing on his resources, he concentrated on
probing the spirit before him. A flash of light pulsed towards him as
he felt the glow of purity from this being's soul. A sense of
strength came next, but it was protected by a strong block of some
kind. Shifting, Elrond attempted to defeat the barrier and felt, more
than heard, a groan of pain from his patient.
Pulling back to himself, he looked quizzically down at this elf.
Brushing his hand over the planed forehead he offered calming
thoughts. His restless patient settled back into the pillow as Elrond
sighed.
Quite a paradox this one was. A strong sense of personality and
character, but the wall that surrounded the details of the elf's life
concerned him. Elrond struggled with his long memory to review other
cases of head trauma. Never could he remember being locked out of
another's mind when assisting with the healing process. He sensed
great turmoil from this one and yet also felt a strong impression of
fighting spirit.
His own reaction was puzzlement. Hundreds of years had passed since
Celebrian had gone west. He had clung to the love of his wife for
many years, even though he acknowledged that their bond had never been
solid. His beautiful wife had wanted a strong family and protection
from the world - things that Elrond could provide. But he did not
delude himself with thoughts of boundless love from her. They made a
good match, raised a good family, but there were parts of his soul
that had never been filled in her presence.
After healing the physical wounds from the violent attack that she had
suffered, he had felt a greater gap grow between their minds and
emotions. Instead of leaning into her husband and family for support,
she had elected to withdraw and then finally to take her leave of
them. The twins were still young, by elven standards, when she left,
but there was no persuading her to remain in Middle Earth. He hoped
the Grey Havens provided the solace that she could not find with him.
Shaking his head at his own brooding, he refocused on the male before
him. There was a connection there, a stirring within himself that he
had never felt before. This was more than physical - he appreciated
great beauty, but his heart and body were not easily swayed. His gift
of foresight was strong and yet he could not see clearly through the
shroud of fog to understand his reaction to this stranger.
Briefly he contemplated searching the elf's traveling bag and quiver,
but dismissed it. Until the elf was proven a threat, he would not
impugn the other's privacy without requesting permission. Finally, he
acknowledged his curiosity about the situation from a political
standpoint. His dealings with Thranduil were usually completed
through messages dropped with their respective border guards or
specifically agreed upon emissaries. The arrival of a single Mirkwood
elf was most uncommon. But, Elrond acknowledged, he was a patient
being and he would wait until the elf regained his senses and could
explain his situation.
Night deepened as Elrond continued to study his patient and consider
the situation. The stars were high when he noticed a slight trembling
begin. Only a quarter candle mark had passed since his last
inspection of the elf's injuries and he felt a rush of fever as soon
as he place a hand upon the other's arm.
Gathering his supplies and calling to one of his assistants for more
cooling water, Elrond mixed a solution and began bathing the elf from
head to chest. The wash would briefly offer respite, but soon low
mutterings could be heard. Leaning in, Elrond heard a gentle baritone
voice pleading to be heard.
"My king, you must believe me.. More than spiders. Dol Guldor. deep
fears for our safety. No, I do not distrust your . My injuries do not
cause me to over . "
Elrond listened as the fragments of sentences grew softer. The strong
body continued to shiver with tremors as the Elrond administered yet
another potion to work against fever and the evil orc poisons.
Waving off his assistant's offer to take over, Elrond reclaimed his
chair. The cool pink of dawn was beginning to color the sky, as
finally the elf rested in peace. The fever while still present had
been reduced greatly and he hoped true healing could finally begin.
Sipping a strong cup of tea, Elrond greeted another assistant who came
to the healing rooms for the day. Sensing his charge would soon
awake, he sat back and waited.
Had all of this only occurred since nightfall and into this dawn? Closing his eyes to regroup his strength, he straightened his back against the tight muscles as he stretched. He opened his eyes to find Glorfindel standing to his left.
"You need to rest my lord. Now that your patient has awoken, allow your staff to do its duty and come to rest yourself."
Elrond offered a short, disdainful sniff to his advisor. "I don't recall asking for a nursemaid, Glorfindel. And I'm perfectly capable of assessing my own state."
Twinkling eyes reflected back at him. "I do not undertake the job of your nursemaid, that has been left in the capable hands of Erestor. I'm simply here to assure that your other responsibilities to Imladris are not neglected. And taking care of yourself is a primary responsibility."
Elrond reviewed his friend. Realizing he wasn't going to win a battle of wits against his advisor, especially after so taxing a night, he relented. "Our new guest should sleep for a while. I will take a proper breakfast and make my morning ablutions before seeing you in chambers for a review of today's responsibilities."
Glorfindel studied him with a cooling gaze, and Elrond could pinpoint the moment the elder elf decided that fighting about resting would not win him this battle. Pulling back, Elrond recognized the steely look of assessment and plotting in his closest friend's eyes. Idle musing to himself, he acknowledged that the strategy and great cunning that were of value in battle were not traits that he liked having turned upon himself. Shrugging, he glided to his feet. After giving suitable instruction to the healer in attendance, he exited the healing rooms, Glorfindel smugly trailing.
TBC .
Chapter Two:
Elrond allowed his hand to linger for a moment, then lightly sweep down the cooling cheek. His fingers tingled oddly and he strove to collect himself from the warmth that rushed through his soul. Focusing back on the stranger's glazed eyes, he dismissed his sons. "Go, attend to your morning duties, I'll continue to take watch here."
Elladan hesitated for a bit and then relented. "I shall relieve you as the sun peaks, so you may rest, Ada." He leaned over, hugged his father and turned to leave.
Elrohir also offered his father an embrace, then turned and followed his brother from the room.
Sitting down in the bedside chair, Elrond studied his newest patient. Many things about this whole circumstance unnerved him - and yet his strange attraction to this elf still sat foremost in his mind. Settling his robes about him, he shifted in the cushioned chair and thought back to yesterday evening.
"My Lord, a runner comes from the border guards. Your sons are
returning with an injured visitor. They signaled a fierce orc attack
on the eastern boundary!"
Elrond rose from his desk and bade the servant to run to the healing
rooms and prepare for their arrival. Knowing his sons, there was a
fear in his heart that the stranger was not the only one to require
his abilities.
He entered the houses of healing just as Elladan placed a blonde elf
upon one of the raised beds. His eldest son was covered in blood and
dirt. Raising an eyebrow, Elrond immediately relaxed as his son
assured him. "We are not injured, Ada. We found this elf fighting
off a pack of orcs, he had killed several before we even arrived.
However, he's sustained one injury that deeply troubles me."
Elrond gave an encouraging, one-armed hug to his son, smiled at
Elrohir and then glanced down at his new patient. Although he knew
his face revealed nothing, a deep sense of shock jarred his soul. The
elf before him was not one he was familiar with - by the clothing and
coloring he was Silvan - and yet Elrond sensed a number of images at
once. Pushing aside the overwhelming emotions, he focused on his
patient and injuries.
They stripped off the blood soaked clothing and covered his nakedness
with a softly woven sleeping cloth. Elrond spent the next several
candlemarks directing Elladan and Elrohir in the mixing of herbal
poultices to treat wounds and draw out the orc poison, while he
cleaned and bandaged the other injuries.
Elrond cursed under his breath, as yet another variation of the evil
poisons stubbornly fought his remedies. Packing the wound with mixture
of altheas, henbane and goldenseal, he tightly bandaged the thigh and
sat back to wait.
Dispatching his sons to refresh themselves and eat, Elrond once again
studied his charge. Half-closed eyes indicated the deep level of
unconsciousness. A severe bruise on his forehead could not disguise
the beauty of his features. Broad shoulders carried the muscular arms
of an archer, the calluses on the fingertips confirmed his work with a
bow. Even under the sheet, Elrond could see the outline of the taught
muscles of his stomach and the muscular length of thighs used to
running.
Deciding it was best to see how much he could learn from his
uncommunicative patient, Elrond leaned forward and placed a gentle
hand on his brow. Drawing on his resources, he concentrated on
probing the spirit before him. A flash of light pulsed towards him as
he felt the glow of purity from this being's soul. A sense of
strength came next, but it was protected by a strong block of some
kind. Shifting, Elrond attempted to defeat the barrier and felt, more
than heard, a groan of pain from his patient.
Pulling back to himself, he looked quizzically down at this elf.
Brushing his hand over the planed forehead he offered calming
thoughts. His restless patient settled back into the pillow as Elrond
sighed.
Quite a paradox this one was. A strong sense of personality and
character, but the wall that surrounded the details of the elf's life
concerned him. Elrond struggled with his long memory to review other
cases of head trauma. Never could he remember being locked out of
another's mind when assisting with the healing process. He sensed
great turmoil from this one and yet also felt a strong impression of
fighting spirit.
His own reaction was puzzlement. Hundreds of years had passed since
Celebrian had gone west. He had clung to the love of his wife for
many years, even though he acknowledged that their bond had never been
solid. His beautiful wife had wanted a strong family and protection
from the world - things that Elrond could provide. But he did not
delude himself with thoughts of boundless love from her. They made a
good match, raised a good family, but there were parts of his soul
that had never been filled in her presence.
After healing the physical wounds from the violent attack that she had
suffered, he had felt a greater gap grow between their minds and
emotions. Instead of leaning into her husband and family for support,
she had elected to withdraw and then finally to take her leave of
them. The twins were still young, by elven standards, when she left,
but there was no persuading her to remain in Middle Earth. He hoped
the Grey Havens provided the solace that she could not find with him.
Shaking his head at his own brooding, he refocused on the male before
him. There was a connection there, a stirring within himself that he
had never felt before. This was more than physical - he appreciated
great beauty, but his heart and body were not easily swayed. His gift
of foresight was strong and yet he could not see clearly through the
shroud of fog to understand his reaction to this stranger.
Briefly he contemplated searching the elf's traveling bag and quiver,
but dismissed it. Until the elf was proven a threat, he would not
impugn the other's privacy without requesting permission. Finally, he
acknowledged his curiosity about the situation from a political
standpoint. His dealings with Thranduil were usually completed
through messages dropped with their respective border guards or
specifically agreed upon emissaries. The arrival of a single Mirkwood
elf was most uncommon. But, Elrond acknowledged, he was a patient
being and he would wait until the elf regained his senses and could
explain his situation.
Night deepened as Elrond continued to study his patient and consider
the situation. The stars were high when he noticed a slight trembling
begin. Only a quarter candle mark had passed since his last
inspection of the elf's injuries and he felt a rush of fever as soon
as he place a hand upon the other's arm.
Gathering his supplies and calling to one of his assistants for more
cooling water, Elrond mixed a solution and began bathing the elf from
head to chest. The wash would briefly offer respite, but soon low
mutterings could be heard. Leaning in, Elrond heard a gentle baritone
voice pleading to be heard.
"My king, you must believe me.. More than spiders. Dol Guldor. deep
fears for our safety. No, I do not distrust your . My injuries do not
cause me to over . "
Elrond listened as the fragments of sentences grew softer. The strong
body continued to shiver with tremors as the Elrond administered yet
another potion to work against fever and the evil orc poisons.
Waving off his assistant's offer to take over, Elrond reclaimed his
chair. The cool pink of dawn was beginning to color the sky, as
finally the elf rested in peace. The fever while still present had
been reduced greatly and he hoped true healing could finally begin.
Sipping a strong cup of tea, Elrond greeted another assistant who came
to the healing rooms for the day. Sensing his charge would soon
awake, he sat back and waited.
Had all of this only occurred since nightfall and into this dawn? Closing his eyes to regroup his strength, he straightened his back against the tight muscles as he stretched. He opened his eyes to find Glorfindel standing to his left.
"You need to rest my lord. Now that your patient has awoken, allow your staff to do its duty and come to rest yourself."
Elrond offered a short, disdainful sniff to his advisor. "I don't recall asking for a nursemaid, Glorfindel. And I'm perfectly capable of assessing my own state."
Twinkling eyes reflected back at him. "I do not undertake the job of your nursemaid, that has been left in the capable hands of Erestor. I'm simply here to assure that your other responsibilities to Imladris are not neglected. And taking care of yourself is a primary responsibility."
Elrond reviewed his friend. Realizing he wasn't going to win a battle of wits against his advisor, especially after so taxing a night, he relented. "Our new guest should sleep for a while. I will take a proper breakfast and make my morning ablutions before seeing you in chambers for a review of today's responsibilities."
Glorfindel studied him with a cooling gaze, and Elrond could pinpoint the moment the elder elf decided that fighting about resting would not win him this battle. Pulling back, Elrond recognized the steely look of assessment and plotting in his closest friend's eyes. Idle musing to himself, he acknowledged that the strategy and great cunning that were of value in battle were not traits that he liked having turned upon himself. Shrugging, he glided to his feet. After giving suitable instruction to the healer in attendance, he exited the healing rooms, Glorfindel smugly trailing.
TBC .