Glorfindel entered the cabin, kicking the door shut with his foot. He propped the elfling upon a simple wooden chair.

"We need to get you out of these filthy clothes, mysterious one", he spoke, though the elf was still unconscious and so could not hear him.

Carefully, ensuring the elf could not fall, Glorfindel removed the elfling's cloak and tunic, "You won't have a need for those again, my friend, you shall have new clothes" he said as he discarded the soiled clothing on the floor.

Picking up the elfling once more Glorfindel placed him gently upon the bed and sat on the edge. He smiled at the darkling elf and tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind a pointed ear.

"I think you will like Balar, my friend, Lord Gil-Galad is kind and allows me my freedom, though he will most likely expect you to join me in classes in the mornings" Glorfindel grimaced "but on the positive side, weapons training is good and the master of those good company and skilled. Perhaps there is a horse you can use and we can ride out to the hills, so many places there are to explore and I should enjoy your company"

"And that is all I can tell you, Rosuil" Gil-Galad was saying as he entered the cabin. If Rosuil was startled by the sight of the elfling, he did not show it. He took Glorfindel's place on the side of the bed. "Glorfindel, please fetch a basin of warm water from the galley" the healer asked.

The golden haired elf nodded his accent and cast a quick glance at Gil-Galad and Círdan who were stood close to the bed, before leaving the room.

Rosuil sighed deeply as he began work on the elfling, he removed the young one's leggings and the bindings on his leg. Glorfindel returned quickly with the water that was requested and assisted in washing the injured elf.

Gil-Galad looked on fit to burst, he knew he shouldn't rush the healer into answers, but he could bear it no longer. "What can you tell us Rosuil?"

Rosuil looked at Glorfindel and then to Círdan, who looked to Gil-Galad, "Perhaps Glorfindel should leave us?"

"Glorfindel can stay if he chooses to" Gil-Galad stated firmly.

"I choose to" Glorfindel added, he wanted to know the answers to this mystery as much as any in the room.

"Very well" Rosuil replied, "his wounds are mostly superficial, but some of these wounds are at least two weeks old"

Gil-Galad frowned "yet they have not healed?"

"Nay, the wounds are not healing, and this" Rosuil gently wiped a clean damp cloth over the bite mark on the elflings leg, before binding it. "This was inflicted some days ago, yet it bleeds still as you can see, and has not been treated"

"Rosuil, what in the name of the Valar do you think happened to him!" Círdan demanded, unable to stay quiet any longer.

"Please understand, My Lords, that we cannot know this for certain until he wakes"

Glorfindel noticed how the healer suddenly looked very sad and wanted to question him about it, but Gil-Galad spoke in his stead, "This we understand Rosuil, but we would know your opinion of this matter"

The healer took a deep breath, "The young one has spent many nights out in the open and has been exposed to great cold" Rosuil illustrated his words by tucking a thick quilt securely about the elf's form. "His body is covered in minor cuts, consistent with running, or being dragged perhaps through bushes, trees or undergrowth. The bite mark is interesting" Rosuil paused

Gil-Galad and Círdan both raised their eyebrows in question, Glorfindel scowled and sat by the elfling's head and gently stroked the dark hair.

"I have seen wounds like this before" Rosuil continued "but never on one who still lives" Gil-Galad moved closer to the bed and Glorfindel looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"I suspect it was made by a warg out of Angband. Aiya, he is brave! And I know not what luck befell him that he still lives. However he is very weak and may yet be beaten," Rosuil said, his eyes downcast.

"Why do his wounds not heal?" Gil-Galad asked, now resting his hand protectively upon the elfling's legs.

"And that, my Lords, is the easiest of the riddles to answer" Rosuil stated gravely, "quite simply, he is starving"

Círdan frowned, "is he fading?"

"Nay, I do not believe his wasting is due to elven sickness, I have been a healer for many hundred years, My Lords, and in all that time I have never known or heard tell of an elfling, as young as this one is, catching this sickness, so my experience says he is not fading as a full grown elf would fade due to grief."

"How old would you say he is?" Gil-Galad asked when the healer paused.

"I would be surprised if he was more than five and twenty years, My Lord"

Gil-Galad nodded, "Too young to be wandering alone! Too young to be sleeping in the open! Too young to be attacked by a warg! Where are his kin? And how could they let this happen to him!!"

Círdan placed a comforting hand upon his student's shoulder; attempting to diffuse the anger he sensed welling up in Gil-Galad.

It was Glorfindel who broke the uneasy silence with an observation, "he is so cold."

"Aye that he is, young one, he could do with being warmed in a bath" Rosuil directed his comment to Gil-Galad, who nodded in reply, "I will see that done upon our return"

"Which will be soon" Círdan added, "I must see to our arrival."

"Thank you" Gil-Galad whispered. Círdan gave an acknowledging nod and a knowing smile before leaving the cabin.

"You gave him míruvórë?"

Gil-Galad nodded, "I did not want him to be weakened further by our journey back to the boat"

"It has done little to strengthen him, he will need time, and it worries me that he is still unconscious" Rosuil paused, "At least, I will be in Balar to attend him, if you are willing, as my brother is to take my place as the ship's healer"

"We would be very glad to have your skills in the healing house, Rosuil, and I would be comforted to know you tend him."

"I wonder what his name is?" Glorfindel mused allowed

"What does his clothing tell us? Did he have any possessions that might identify him?" Rosuil asked.

"Only the necklace he wears" Gil-Galad replied, "his clothes only tell us that he is an elfling, I believe that Glorfindel trains in clothing so similar in weave and cut that they could have been made by the same tailor."

"Perhaps he is the son of a Lord then" Rosuil mused; Gil-Galad smiled in amusement at the healer's romantic imagination and raised his brows.

Rosuil returned the Lord's smile and shrugged, "is Glorfindel not dressed by your tailor? And are you not a Lord?"

Gil-Galad was silenced by Rosuil's observations, but he entertained the thought for only a moment, "I cannot believe that any Lord on Arda would allow his son, so free a reign that he could come this close to finding his way to the Halls of Mandos"

The boat shuddered and clunked, and the sound of orders being given joined the sounds of the sea birds.

"We have arrived" Rosuil said as he gently wrapped the elfling securely in the quilt.

"I can take him," Glorfindel stated.

"Nay, young one, I have him, you should tend to your horse," the healer replied.

Glorfindel pouted.

"Take him directly to the healing house, Rosuil, I will be there presently to speak to Finuial." Rosuil nodded as he picked up the elfling and left the room.

Gil-Galad herded Glorfindel back onto deck and charged him with seeing both horses back to the stables.