A/N: Once again, my many thousands of humblest apologies for effectively abandoning this story. I'm chipping away at it, and I have many pages ready for upload while I start writing the rest. The action from here on in is thick and fast, so my apologies if this seems a little rushed. I do want to finish this as quickly as possible, and I don't want to deprive you of an ending. Thank you for sticking with me so far through this awful mess!

The Dúnedain looked as if they would stay for a few weeks, as their most badly injured riders would take a while to heal, with a stomach wound and a shattered sword arm among the hurts. Hirgon, the worst off, was Morandir's best friend, and Morandir would sit by his bedside day after day, only leaving it to eat, making Elenion promise him he would tell him if there were any news in his absence. Farothwen would often come and sit with him, spending most of her time not at the loom but in the places of healing. Healing gave her a satisfaction she could not find by any other means, and she decided that that was what she wanted to do. Elrond was glad; he needed another helper and he thought Elenion could do with a companion.

Farothwen would watch Morandir sit there, hardly moving, holding Hirgon's hand in his and wonder. He seemed so fierce and quick to anger, and yet he had this gentle side. His devotion to Hirgon was so touching, but Farothwen was worried about his lack of sleep.

'You should sleep. We will look after him.'

'I do not doubt your care,' he replied, 'but I wish to stay with him. If he wakes and I am not there, I could not bear it. We have known each other since we were children and I would not want him to think that I had abandoned him.'

'I understand, Morandir. But please try to take some sleep. I shall ask Master Elrond to put a bed in here, if you wish.'

Morandir nodded. 'I would like that very much.'

Elenion then came with a fresh dressing, and to check the wound.

'How is it healing, Elenion?' Farothwen asked.

'It seems fine, there's no infection. But we were lucky, any longer and he would have been lost. It will take a while to heal completely, but,' he smiled at Morandir, 'these Dúnedain are made of sterner stuff than we expected. Once he is healed, there is no reason why he can no longer ride, or so it seems to me, but I shall have to ask Lord Elrond to make sure.'

Morandir smiled slightly, the first time Farothwen had seen him do so for a while. 'That's good. Hirgon belongs in the wilds, not left behind. He would suffer much if he could not ride through the lands he loves.'

Morandir spoke wistfully, as if he were talking about himself. Elenion noticed that he seemed as if he were caged in Rivendell, eager to be riding in the dangerous wilderness once more, and he had only been here a few days. Elenion noticed a change in Farothwen, too. Morandir's wanderlust and what he had told her about their people had stirred something within her, like she too wanted to become a ranger. Elenion shook his head slightly. She would not leave Glorohtar. She loved him too much.

Farothwen walked around the pathways and sighed, more than one leaf falling onto her head. She didn't care. She sat on a stone bench, the autumn leaves crunching under her. She felt so lonely.

Glorohtar was gone again. Every second day, he would go out with the other Elves to hunt, and he would leave at dawn and return at dusk. Normally, Farothwen would go to the healing place, but she felt superfluous, as Elenion and Elrond were more than capable of healing the Dúnedain by themselves. Elladan and Elrohir had gone on an expedition with Glorfindel, to where she did not know. Celebrían was busy with her duties, and Beleglor was spending all his time with Lindir. Morandir wasn't the best company, as he was too worried about Hirgon, and his sadness drowned Farothwen's spirit.

She wished Glorohtar had never volunteered for the hunting party. The worry of him not coming back was making her ill, plus the worry of her patients, such as they were. Even though it was not every day, she missed him. The day she needed a joke, a smile, an embrace, a kiss, he was not there.

Farothwen had no idea why she felt like this. She was in a beautiful place full of people she loved, and nothing could hurt her. But she wished she could explore more. See the woods beyond the valley that Glorohtar had told her about. See the wilderness.

Go with the Rangers…

No. She promised Glorohtar she wouldn't leave Rivendell. He feared for her. He was afraid his father would come after them. But she knew that Elrond and his house would never let any harm come to them.

The wanderlust that plagued her as a child had come back. She needed to get away. Things were too peaceful here. She wanted something to do. She wanted to feel… needed. She didn't feel needed now. She had not the skill to heal the sick as well as Elenion and Elrond.

Farothwen knew she needed to do something. And do it now.

That night, Glorohtar returned as usual just at dusk. As usual, just as the bell for the evening meal was rung. He greeted Farothwen with a kiss. As usual. But tonight he saw the discontent etched on her face.

'Farothwen? What's wrong?'

She looked up at him with sad eyes, but Glorohtar saw something else that he had not seen for a very long time. There was a wildness in her eyes, a longing, a fire just waiting to break out. The last time he had seen that look was when she held her knife to his throat in the contest they had so long ago, so far away. He had not thought of Mirkwood for a long time. And he was so caught up in the work he was doing that he had almost forgotten his wife. He sighed. Glorohtar was secretly relieved that Farothwen discontinued her training. He did not want her in any danger at all. Her scarred hand constantly reminded him of how close he came to losing her. He thought she was happy to remain in Rivendell. He thought she had found her place in healing.

'Can I come with you on the next hunt?' She asked quietly.

'No, Farothwen, it's…' He was about to say 'It's too dangerous' but he knew that would not stay her. Farothwen was strong, stronger than even she knew, and Glorohtar knew that she would do whatever she willed. She had come this far, from Mirkwood to Rivendell, alone for most of the way. Glorohtar looked at her and saw the hope and pleading in her face. He would not deny her.

'Yes, you can come. Just promise me that you'll stay by my side and not stray from the path.'

Farothwen smiled. 'I'm not an impudent child. I can look after myself.'

'I know, I am sorry, I just don't want you getting hurt.' Glorohtar took her hand. 'I'm sorry that we've not been together much lately. I am neglecting you.'

'No, it is fine. At least we can spend time together tomorrow and the day after that. You tell me the forests beyond the valley are beautiful, and I would dearly like to see them for myself.'

'Then I shall show you, my love.' Glorohtar squeezed her hand. 'Come, let's eat. I have ridden long and am very hungry.'

After dinner, Farothwen and Glorohtar casually strolled down the halls to the library. Farothwen wanted to look at some scrolls and she needed Glorohtar to read the text for her. However, as they walked in the darkness, Farothwen heard someone calling her name. It was Elenion.

'Farothwen! We need you, Hirgon's taken a turn for the worse. Glorohtar, you can help too, we need all the hands we can get. Hurry!'

Glorohtar did not question Elenion, instead he took Farothwen's hand and they both ran, following Elenion. When they reached Hirgon's room, Glorohtar was shocked and sickened. Hirgon's wound had reopened and there was blood everywhere, all over his bed, even the floor. Glorohtar didn't see it in the starlight, but it was all over Elenion's tunic as well. He wanted to be sick, but held it together. Elrond looked up at them both, relieved they were there.

In the confusion, Farothwen didn't even realise that Morandir was there as well, until he started crying for Hirgon. Elenion looked up, at a loss with what to do about the hysterical ranger.

'Glorohtar,' Elrond said calmly, 'come here. I need you to place your hand here to stop the bleeding.' He placed Glorohtar's hand on top of a vein that had reopened. Glorohtar looked nauseous but did as he was told.

'I do not ask you, Farothwen,' Elrond said, 'I do not know what is in Hirgon's blood. Take Morandir outside.'

Morandir was in shock and crying. Farothwen gently put her arm around his waist and led him outside, away from the horror in the room. Farothwen had never seen so much blood before in her life, and she was scared that Hirgon was going to die.

'No,' Morandir kept whispering. 'I want to see him!'

'Morandir, it is best to let Lord Elrond work alone, you cannot help him this time. I promise that when Hirgon is better I will let you see him. For now, it's best to keep out of the way.'

Morandir nodded, defeated. Farothwen looked at him with pity. The poor fellow doesn't know which way is up at the moment. Morandir sat on a wooden bench, held his head in his hands and cried. Farothwen sat down beside him and placed her arms around him. Morandir buried his head in her chest and cried, finally letting all of his fear and sadness out.

'Shh,' Farothwen said soothingly, 'he will be all right, just wait and see.' As she held this man, a fearless warrior who was now like a frightened child, in her arms, Farothwen was concerned that she was lying to him. She nervously looked around and listened carefully. There was nothing. All she could hear were Morandir's sobs. She was worried for him. If Hirgon died, Morandir would be inconsolable.

Hours later, Glorohtar went outside to tell Farothwen and Morandir the news. Morandir was asleep, his head on Farothwen's shoulder, her arms still protectively around him, stroking his hair. She was barely awake herself. It was in the middle of the night. Farothwen looked at Glorohtar with alarm at how much blood was on his clothes and hands. Her eyes was expectant. Inexplicably, Glorohtar felt a flash of jealousy hit him when he looked at his wife holding Morandir. He cleared his mind and met eyes with her. He slowly shook his head. Farothwen closed her eyes in sadness and tightened her grip on the sleeping Morandir. She nodded to Glorohtar, and he went back inside and started to help clean up, which had to be done before Morandir woke up.

Morandir was twitching and muttering in his sleep. He was dreaming. Suddenly, he woke with a scream, which frightened both him and Farothwen. He took a second to figure out where he was, and then looked at Farothwen.

'Hirgon!' He got up and started to make his way to the healing room.

'No, Morandir!' Farothwen grabbed him and tried to hold on.

'I want to see him!' He shook off her grip and strode forward. Farothwen grabbed him around the waist.

'Not yet!'

Morandir shrugged her off and went inside. Farothwen followed him and looked apologetically at Elrond. Morandir looked at the room in horror. Sheets and bandages were strewn on the floor, all bloodstained. The sheet that covered Hirgon's body was also bloodstained.

'Hirgon!' Morandir cried. He ran and knelt by his side, taking his cold white hand, kissing it. Elrond laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

'I am sorry, Morandir,' he said softly. 'There was nothing we could do for him.' The three elves all silently left the room, leaving Morandir alone with his beloved friend. Farothwen lingered, unable to take her eyes off him. Glorohtar placed a hand on her shoulder and gently led her away. The memories of that night would stay with her forever.