Chapter Five Healing and Rebuilding

He pulled with all his might to pull the sodden child into his boat, he knew instantly that the child was elven, but once the child was in the boat he couldn't place the familiar face. Dark hair plastered the child's face. Wincing at the many bruises that scattered the rounded face, Celanos pushed the hair off the forehead and took in the child's features trying to place where he had seen this boys face. He wrapped his cloak around the boy and began rowing back to the opposite shore where his daughter stood impatiently.

"Lovie, get towels." He shouted. "Place blankets around the fire grab my healing bag."

His daughter raced away from the riverside and did as she was told. By the time she had finished her father had pulled the boat ashore and carried the small child to the fireside. She watched silently as her father placed the child on the blankets and began drying him off. She gasped when she looked at the boys face and swallowed.

"It is Lord Elrond's son!" She wailed.

Her father glanced up sharply. Celanos glanced down at the boy and indeed it was one of the twin's. "You know him?"

She shook her head. "I have only seen them briefly. I spoke with one at the festival, but I do not know which one."

Celanos frowned and began assessing the child's injuries. He winced at the many wounds and broken bones he came across and ruffled through his healing bag. The boy had a broken collarbone, which would prove to be painful. Both his legs were broken, fractured and torn through the skin. The worst one was his left leg, broken above the kneecap, the sharp bone protruding angrily from the skin. Black and blue bruises covered the child's body. The ribcage was lying at odd angles marking broken ribs, blood flowed from the boy's nose and mouth, and the last and most concerning injury was one on the head. Blood flowed freely down the child's face, and pushing the hair aside, Celanos saw the angry laceration. A large goose egg above the cut signalled concussion. Taking a deep breath, Celanos knew these injuries were beyond his aid, but the son of Elrond could not be moved safely without causing more injury to him.

Celanos knew he had to take the boy to Elrond for healing, but he was not about to leave his young daughter nor the child to bring Elrond to their encampment. He could not send his daughter alone to Rivendell, and he could not bring the children on horseback to the city, so they had to remain here until the child either healed with his aid, or-. Celanos shook his head dislodging his thoughts.

Silently he began cleaning and binding the child's wounds as best as he could. He had cleaned up minor scrapes and cuts his daughter had received when she had been rough housing with her friends, but he had never had to set broken bones, nor stitch serious cuts. Swallowing against the bile that rose in his throat, Celanos began to tend the child's wounds before he lost too much blood. Valar only knew how long the child had been in the river, but he could only hope it had not been too long to save the child's life.

Furiously he kicked at the rocks and debris in his way. He knew Elrond was trapped beneath the rocks, and he knew that where the sobbing and shouting was coming from that he was getting close. As he turned the corner, he saw Celebrian calling into the darkness, her face was tear streaked and fear shone in her eyes when she glanced up to see who had arrived. With a startled exclamation, she stood and flung herself in his arms.

Taken back, he wrapped his arms around her and whispered into her ear. "Shush, it is time for you to be strong for your family."

"Elrond is down there." She pointed to the large gaping hole in the floor.

Gandalf nodded. "I know."

Celebrian straightened herself, and stood tall. "We must dig him out. There will be many who will need his assistance." She sighed quickly adding softly. "If he lives."

Gandalf nodded again. "He lives." He smiled when a grunt filled the air from the crevice. "Very much aware of his surroundings."

Celebrian smiled and nodded. "How will we get him out of there?"

Gandalf motioned for her to follow him, and both made their way down the halls, towards the stairs.

Celebrian stopped suddenly. "Gandalf." She whispered harshly. "My children?" Panic rose in her almost causing her to go mad.

"One thing at a time, let us gather your husband, then we will search for your children."

"Do they live, Gandalf?" She felt tears fill her eyes again.

Gandalf frowned and searched for the twin's presence and found small golden traces of their fae's. "At the moment they are alive, but quickly now, we must retrieve Elrond and begin our search."

Figwit stopped suddenly, hissing in pain. The more he moved the more his foot and leg throbbed. Erestor stopped and spun around catching a glimpse of Figwit falling to his knees.

Shaking his head quickly, Figwit shouted. "No, take Elladan to Elrond!" Swallowing hard, he looked up at the torn expression on his mentor's face. "I will catch up, you have my word."

Nodding once, Erestor turned and stumbled across rock and wood. The house of Elrond was close, just through the trees. The feeling of dread filled him as he took the first steps to the great oak door. Nothing remained of the great house, nor of the lands. As Erestor looked around him, his eyes saw the deep crevasses, tumbled buildings, steaming fissures plus many dead or injured. Shaking his head, he silently climbed the stairs and entered the house carrying the small child in his arms. Elladan moaned softly, unconscious of the terror and devastation around him. Erestor took a deep breath and walked through the doors. He prayed that the healing rooms still remained intact, or at least the healing supplies that were needed in aiding the small child in his arms.

He had to make sure that the child was stable before searching for Elrond who would be able to help his son more then he could. He was skilled enough to stitch wounds, apply salves to cuts, splint broken limbs, and even apply painkillers to the patient. However skilled he was, he was not able to sunder pain with a simple touch, nor place the injured into sleep to aid in healing. Turning the corner lost in thought, he gasped when he entered what was left of the healing rooms.

Something wet fell onto his cheek and he raised his hand to rub it away. Glancing at his fingers, he noticed it was blood. Raising his hand once more to his face, he touched the large gash on his forehead and hissed in pain. Glorfindel curled his lip and stumbled through the rock, and over the large pieces of wood that were splintered on the floor. Unsure of what happened, he proceeded through the remains of the halls in search of Elrond.

A loud moan caused him to stop suddenly and spin around. Narrowing his eyes he glanced around in the darkness and listened carefully for the sound again. He heard a sigh and scrambled over to the voice. Throwing aside rock, and finally falling to his knees, he caught sight of a foot. It was bare and deeply cut by all the gagged rock.

Glorfindel began tossing rocks over his shoulder trying to uncover the face, and he gasped when he looked into the deep blue eyes of his friend.

Galathil couldn't remember the last time he was useless. There had been times in battle when he thought he would loose his footing from weariness. But not once could he think of when he was completely and utterly hopeless.

He chuckled and shook his head. "What a fine mess I have gotten myself into." Frowning, he decided finally to call out for aid. Embarrassed, he let out a loud cry. To his surprise an answering cry came after his. Hope filled him and he felt his eyes widen. "I am over here, stuck under a blasted tree!"

Galathil lifted his head and to his relief, Figwit came limping around the corner. Smiling despite his embarrassment, he coughed. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, young one."

Figwit smiled and nodded. "How in all of Arda did you get stuck beneath this tree?" He asked glancing down the length of it.

"Don't ask!" Galathil muttered. "Can you get me out? Or must I continue to lay here and count the clouds?"

Figwit snorted trying to contain his laughter. "You counted the clouds?" He asked amused, lifting his eyebrow in question.

"Only after I counted the leaves on the tree here."

"I dare ask how many leaves and clouds you have counted." Figwit chuckled.

Narrowing his eyes, Galathil glared at the youth. "Can you get me out?" He asked again.

"I believe I can, I may need you to help me."

"Then by all means, let us get started."

Nodding, Figwit planted his feet into the earth and began pushing. The tree wouldn't budge. "Are you helping?" He asked exasperated.

"Yes! Now keep pushing." Galathil grunted.

Try as he might, the tree refused to move. Figwit stood tall and looked around him. There was nothing that would aid in removing the tree. However, he spun around when his ears picked up voices. He cried out to who ever had arrived, and he received an answering cry. To his utter surprise it was Thranduil and his royal guards.

Limping over to them, he grinned from ear to ear. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, majesty."

Thranduil nodded. "What happened here?" He asked glancing around him at the devastation.

"It came upon us suddenly. The ground shook violently. Nothing remains."

"Excuse me! I am still over here!"

Spinning around smiling still, Figwit waved the party over.

With their help they were able to free Galathil from beneath the large oak tree, and pull him to safety. Rubbing his arms, Galathil sat there for a moment, and finally sighed.

Thranduil shook his head. "Elrond?"

Figwit lowered his head. "We have no idea. Erestor took his son inside to find him."

Nodding, the elven king waved to a few of his men, and they began lacing together two litters to carry the two injured elves. Holding his hand up to silence Figwit and Galathil, he shook his head. "You two are injured and will slow our progress. You will lie on the litters and be carried. It will also prevent you from injuring yourselves further."

The two elves glanced at each other and nodded. With the help of Thranduil's men, they sat on the litters and were carried towards the house of Elrond. Figwit glanced at one of the elves who carried one end of his litter and noticed that he was young. Even younger then him. The guard's eyes were free from horror, filled with excitement and joy at being finally able to join the others. Smiling, he caught the guard's eyes.

"Well worth the training you endure is it not?"

The boy smiled and nodded.

Looking away, Figwit glanced at Galathil who was rubbing his foot. "Stop touching it." Figwit muttered.

"Mind your own business." Galathil hissed amusedly. However his smiled turned to a frown when the ground lurched suddenly to the side, causing his litter to be dropped and shouts of alarm filled the air. "Not again."