Chapter 4
The next morning came bright and clear. Isénduil awoke before the others and saw Legolas was absent from his bedding; dressing quickly, he moved the tent flap aside and looked around. There, on the bridge of the Ford; his long blond hair hung from his head as he looked down on the Anduín. Noting his pensive air, Isénduil refrained from speaking, merely stood next to him in silence. After long minutes, Legolas spoke:
"This time of morning soothes my spirit; as the sun rises on the day, the moon and stars shine still. Peace and tranquility in their circles."
"Yet in the end, the sun reigns," replied Isénduil.
A faint smile played across the prince's face.
"Only for a day, my friend," he said, turning to his childhood playmate, "Only until He falls beneath the horizon, then the moon rules the skies. Even then there is balance in the twilight and pre-dawn hours."
"As you say, Tári."
Legolas turned back to the river.
"I have not heard that name in many years."
Isénduil looked at him, his profile against the mountains. Finally, he said:
"We have all changed, Tári; none of us are children any longer."
"And I am one, now?" Legolas asked in an ironic voice, a smile of sardonic amusement tugging at his lips.
"No; you are not a child, but it would seem, since your return, you would need a reminder of who you are. Yes, you have the duties as Prince of Mirkwood Forest, responsibilities to your father; you have the memories of fallen friends and enemies. You have the knowledge of who you once were for over two thousand years, and who you are at present. Yet still, despite the battles you have seen, the scars you bear, and your duties, you are Tári, the boy whom I pulled from a stream and who later saved Rylindë from a Forest Spider. You will always be Tári, no matter where you go, whom you save or kill."
Silence.
"Where did the idiot who poured strong wine into my father's tea run to? You have become wise, Isénduil. Never let it be said that only battles bring wisdom."
Legolas clapped him on the shoulder, smiling as he had not for months: broadly. Isénduil felt his heart lighten.
"Look, the others have risen," Legolas pointed.
He turned to his friend.
"Come, let us hasten to Imladris. There is one who dwindles quickly."
They rode swiftly, pausing only at the mountains to rest, then to hurry onward. Faster and faster, they crossed the High Pass just after sunset. Seeing the concern on Hyldur's face spurred Legolas on; he could clearly recall the last time he had seen a Healer so anxious and uncertain; it was after Frodo had been stabbed by a Mordor blade and taken to Imladris, as they were taking the woman. Even then, when he did not realize the hobbit's importance, he knew the seriousness of his injuries. He remembered Lord Elrond's lined and weary face, an expression not often seen on Elves; it did not bode well.
Night had fallen by the time they had reached the Last Homely House: Legolas had sent the twins ahead to warn those who remained, and as such, they were met by the Lord himself.
"Suilaid, Legolas; I had not thought to see you after we last met."
"Mae govannen, my Lord. We have an injured woman with us, one whose injuries are to great for Hyldur and his apprentices to heal."
Elrond's eyes grew even somber as they caught sight of the restrained woman. He spoke softly to Hyldur:
"Has she been violent?"
"Ú, my Lord. As of a day ago, she has been too weak to moan, yet still her body spasms as if in a nightmare."
Elrond nodded.
"Come, bring her in."
They carried her up the steps of the house, past open rooms filled with moonlight, up to the bedchambers. Elrond noted how they were careful to not touch her skin, and commented on this.
"She appears to not want physical contact, my Lord. Cân sui pen ned naeg."
"Hyldur, go in search of athelas; it has more uses than healing knife wounds. Asrael, find some cloths and scented water, she has fever. Elár, go with him."
As everyone left the room, leaving Elrond alone with the woman, he was able to judge her injuries more accurately. /Thegra naid thegra/, he decided, and began removing the Woodland wraps. He was surprised to see other bandages beneath those, though he did not hesitate in removing them. They were strange, he noted, and sticky. Finally, with yards of cloth and strange bandage strewn on the floor, he looked at the woman's form fully.
There were scratches along her arms, where some of the strange bandage had been: it appeared as if she had tried to defend herself against a beast with claws. These weren't too deep, yet still had penetrated enough to leave scars after they healed. Abrasions peppered the outline of her face, as if she had fallen against rough stone; there was evidence to Elrond's expert eye of healed scratches along her wrists and legs.
Taking the bowl offered by Asrael, he dipped a cloth into its liquid, and gently washed away the grime from her forehead, cleaning it while Healing her. Softly, he laid a finger on her brow, and whispered healing words to her body. At his touch, the woman trembled, shaking despite her injuries, and weakly held her arms in front of her in defense.
"Meredith."
She had whispered so faintly, even his hearing nearly missed it.
"Im ú-Meredith; telin ned faer vaer, nesto len. Geril estel ned nin."
Her face, so tight with pain and…loss?...relaxed, almost as if in sleep, and he was allowed to continue cleansing her wounds. For all his Elven objectivity, he found himself growing angrier as he saw further and further damage to her body, and signs that whatever had happened to her had been occurring for a long time. She had puncture scarring along her thighs, circular burns along her collarbone, and numerous small shiny scars all over.
Two thin lines marred her face: one along her right brow, the other along the left side of her nose, as if someone had traced a knife-edge right beside its bridge. What incensed him even further were the old and recent, signs of someone forcing her. This woman…no, this child, he amended, looking at her and judging her years, looked as if she had been through a war, and come out the loser.
Cooling his anger, he dipped the cloth yet again in the bowl, having already been refilled twice; tenderly, he cleaned the last and worst of her injuries: a deep laceration along her belly, extending from her hipbone until just beneath her breast. The body beneath him winced as she sucked in a breath when his hands touched the yellow-and-green tinged areas around the wound. Gentling his fingers even further, he continued to work tirelessly.
Four hours later…
/Legolas has paced the antechamber for the last two hours/, noted Thraldor, /He's going to wear a hole in the carpet. Then where will our welcome be?/
"Sit down, Legolas," remarked Urelindë irritably, "You're making the rest of us uncomfortable.
At that moment, the doors opened, and their host walked in, looking haggard and weary, but relieved. Legolas stopped his pacing, and hurried over to him.
"How is she? Will she be all right?"
"Yes, Prince Legolas, she will be well. Her injuries took much of my skill to heal, but she will live, and regain consciousness within a day's rest, I hope. With your permission," he added in a quiet voice, "I would like to speak with you further on the extent of her injuries; Hyldur as well."
Legolas nodded, perplexed but gratified.
"Are you very certain, my Lord?"
"Yes, Legolas; she had various injuries, most of them previous to whatever made those lacerations, and there were signs of sexual abuse. I don't know where this girl came from, but she will be in considerable pain when she awakens."
Legolas rounded on the silver-haired Healer.
"You!" he cried, "Why did you not tell me so when you first looked at her?"
The Healer remained calm and collected, despite the prince's anger.
"I was not certain of the whole of her injuries, my Prince. My main concern was her other, more serious injuries that could have caused her death. Lord Elrond was the only one who would have been able to help her. I am sorry if you believe I deceived you, but I did not, and chose what I thought was the best course of action. I still stand by my decision."
Legolas breathed in deeply for a few minutes, and then looked at his long-time counselor with remorse.
"I am sorry as well, Hyldur," he said regretfully, "You did what any Healer would do: you looked at the worst of the injuries, and acted accordingly. I am sorry."
"Accepted, my Prince; now, might I enquire as to when we are to return home?"
"What?"
"Home," he repeated, "Now that the woman has been Healed, surely there is no reason for us to remain?"
Legolas and Elrond regarded each other. The Lord looked back at the Healer, and said carefully:
"I believe it would be acceptable for you to return to the Forest, Hyldur, as well as your apprentices. However, I believe it would be wise for the Prince and some of his company to remain. Perhaps Haldith and Isénduil? Good. Farewell; sŷl vain adel len."
Bowing gracefully to both the Woodland Elves, Elrond turned around, and strode once more through the doors, closing them behind him. Grasping the confused Healer's arm, Legolas said:
"Ir tôl lû, Hyldur. I go now to bid farewell to my companions."
And with that, the Prince made a hasty exit before he was caught and was demanded an explanation.
A.N.:
Translation:
Suilaid Greetings
Mae govannen Well met
Ú No
Cân sui pen ned naeg She cries out as if in pain
Thegra naid thegra First things first
Im ú-Meredith; telin ned faer vaer, nesto len. Geril estel ned nin I am not Meredith; I come in good spirit, to help you. Trust me
Sŷl vain adel len Fair winds on thy back
Ir tôl lû, Hyldur Until then, Hyldur