ThalionPeredhel

(Strong Half-elf)

Éleyond stared at the Marchwarden and felt his gut tighten at his words that sunk deep into his mind.

"What do you want?" he asked his eyes moving on to the rest of the elves, "Are these your other children?"

Haldir could not hide the shock on his face at the question, "I have never had any other children, Éleyond. These are soldiers of the Galadrim under my command." Haldir swallowed slowly, "I came to see you."

Éleyond pulled his eyes away from Pilindiel and back to his father, "Why?"

Such a simple question. So simple, why then did the answer have to be so difficult to answer? Haldir cleared his throat that was suddenly dry and clogged with unspoken words; years of words that threatened to overwhelm him now.

"Because I did not know you were alive."

Éleyond's eyes widen in disbelief. He gave a chuckle has erupted harsh from his throat, "Didn't know I was alive? What do you mean? How could you not? You are my father for god's sake."

Then realizing that the public street was no place for such a confrontation Éleyond turned away from Haldir. The Marchwarden felt the eyes of the people boring into his face, their faces masks of shock and surprise and curiosity of the highest degree. Haldir suddenly felt anger tearing at his emotions. Why did this have to happen before all the gathered populace of Pellis and why did it have to happen like this. He moved a step toward his son who still faced away from him.

"I do not think now is the time to speak of such things, son--"

"My name is Éleyond, Warden," the young man faced him, his features as flinty and cold as Haldir's own, "If you wish to continue this conversation at a time more convenient to both of us, I will be glad to do so. I have-- I have things to do, duties that I must perform before the sun sets. Where can I find you?"

"We're staying at the inn," Haldir answered weighing his words with equal calm and directness, "I will be there whenever you are ready to come."

Éleyond nodded, "Then I shall. Til then, Warden."

"Master Éleyond," Haldir bowed and his son followed suit.

As the two parted ways the spell that seemed to have cast itself over the crowd broke and they scrambled away in bunches to gossip about the amazing news that Éleyond's no-good deserter father had come back. Éleyond strode across the village, his long legs covering the ground with little effort. Behind him, Belo and Faeron had to ran to keep up, the horses following with a jingle of harnesses. The two young boys exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders. Nether one of them was going to be the first to speak to their uncle about what had just transpired. Each could feel the waves of stress rolling off their uncle like sweat.

"I'll take the horses in, Belo," Éleyond said taking the reins from his nephew, "Just go in and tell your mother that I'll be late for dinner tonight."

"Alright," Belo said relinquishing the horses without a fight. Normally the boys would have kicked up no end of a fuss to tend to the two fine horses. But considering the wildness of Rana and their uncle's unusually ruffled temper, their simply went into the house to see what their mother needed.

Éleyond lead the two horses to the corral and slipped the harnesses and tackle off their gleaming heads. Rana nickered softly and nudged Éleyond's shoulder. The young Perehel patted the charger's neck in return.

"Yes, my fine one, yes. Even we have our troubles at times. Even I have to be reined in suddenly. What should I do my beautiful?"

Ran tossed his head and whinnied, tossing his head back and forth toward the open plains on either side of the corral. Éleyond couldn't help a laugh as he smoothed a hand along the stallion's cheek, "I know, you think a hard gallop is the cure for every ill. Well, maybe you're right. But this time I have to face it head on. I've been waiting for it for years."

And Éleyond realized that he had. He had been waiting for the day when something or someone came to tell him what to do next with his life. Éleyond had never followed the usual course of life as his childhood companions had. Most of them were married and raising children of their own, he was still living alone; working on his own small farm and with the various herds that made up their tiny village. He had never even thought to wed and settle down in the sense that his friends had done. And it was all because he had been waiting. Now that the wait was over he didn't know what to do next. What had the Warden said? Something about coming to speak about it.

Éleyond sighed and vaulted over the corral gate. What was there to talk about exactly? Oh, I left you alone all your life but came to see if you inherited my nose? Éleyond shook his head. The Warden was not that kind of man. He was the kind of man that thinks hard and feels deep and does nothing without putting his entire soul into it. Éleyond didn't have to know Haldir long to know that much. But why come now?

Suddenly his walk slowed before he reached the house, his legs feeling heavy and hot. The Perehel pulled his hand across his brow and saw the sweat leaving streaks on his tunic sleeve. He stopped dead and stared at it for a moment. Then he felt the familiar rise in his temperature and the strange weakness began to turn his limbs soft and useless. A quick glance around showed that the street was empty, everyone having gone inside for dinner. Falling to his knees, unable to support himself, Éleyond tried to call out to the boys and their mother in the house that was so near. But his voice was only a soft exhalation before blackness over came his sight and he hit the ground unconscious.

HHHHHHHHH

Haldir never slept that night. He waited in the common room for hours for his son to appear. The worn out floor boards complained under his heavy tread as he passed over them again and again. Pilindiel had taken a book and sat by the fire pretending to read, while Rumil and Ferevellon argued over a game of chess. The innkeeper and his family moved around the inn on tip-toe as if any noise might offend the sensitive ears of their guests. In fact, the groaning of house and the usual everyday noises were easily enough heard, but it graded on Haldir's nerves that they crept about instead of going to and fro like normal people.

Haldir almost laughed. Normal people. What did he know about normal people? He spent too much time over the last thirty years deep in the heart of Elvendom. He knew very little about the way humans acted when they weren't under threat or suspecting you of some dastardly magic plot. The door to the kitchen opened and the innkeeper appeared bearing a tray with a few mugs on it, all foaming with beer.

"I thought ya might want a little something to relax with," he said carefully studying their reactions, "It's the best in the house. Should any of you care to sample some?"

Rumil stood without a word to Haldir, "Yes, indeed. I haven't had a good mug of ale in a thousand—I mean, years." Rumil grinned in his boyish fashion and smoothed over his mention of thousands of years. The elves had learned over time that mentioning huge gaps of time to humans unnerved them even more about immortal beings.

Accepting the offered mug, Rumil drank down a mouthful and licked the foam from his lips, "Made with barley?" he asked.

"Yes, master," the innkeeper said with pride, "Grown out in my son-in-laws own fields outside of Pellis. And a finer field you'll never seen sir."

"I've no doubt." Rumil shoved mugs into Ferevellon and Pilindiel's hands. They accepted them and after thanking the innkeeper and trading sidelong glances they tasted the alcohol.

Meantime the innkeeper had gone up to Haldir and offered him some.

"No, thank y--" he began and whirled toward the door a second before the door burst open and a small, woman hurtled through. Tripping on an uneven board she was thrown off balance and Haldir grabbed her to keep the frail woman from hitting the floor.

"Oh, Haldir," she sobbed, "You've gotta come now! Éleyond's ill and I know he needs your people's aid!'

Haldir looked down at the wrinkled face and red rimmed eyes without recognizing them. Then a picture of a round, buxom lass of thirty years ago came to his mind and he said, "Elonde? Is it you?"

She collapsed against him, "Yes, but go. Go, to Éleyond! He's sick as anything and I'm afraid that it's worse this time because you lot are here and I--" she covered her face in his wrinkled hand and burst into a torrent of fresh tears.

Haldir turned to Rumil, "I have to go. I want you to stay with Elonde and keep her calm. Ferevellon, Pilindiel, come with me."

"Hurry," the old woman cried, "before anything happens to the poor boy."

Haldir resisted the impulse to hurtle out the door and laid a calming hand on her shoulder, "I will go, Elonde. Nothings going to happen. Come as soon as you've caught your breath."

With that he and the two young elves left the inn and made across the town. Haldir needed no direction to the Tanner's house. His keen eyes saw every detail of the sagging roof and the barn as he ran out the steps. Light blazed from every window and the family was milling about in the vestibule, talking in lows voices. Haldir just saw two boys in one corner looking scared and their mother, a youngish woman in her thirties trying to calm them. She looked at Haldir in surprise and awe but relief staining her worn features more then anything.

"Where is he?" Haldir demanded.

'In the next room," she pointed, "but his granddad's in there and I don't think--"

"I don't give a damn about what his grandfather thinks," Haldir said shortly and pushed through the people and into the room.

Castien was there, holding the trembling and shaking form of Éleyond in his brawny tanner's arms. Seeing Haldir he snarled, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Elonde came for me. She said that Éleyond was sick and needed help," Haldir said moving closer. Castien laid the unconscious form of his grandson on a low cot and turned to the Marchwarden, his ruddy face inches from Haldir's own. He was the only man in town who came near the elf in strength and he certainly matched him for temper.

"We don't need you here. We've dealt with this before and we'll do it again without you sticking your nose in," he said. He pointed toward the door where Pilindiel and Ferevellon stood in readiness should the encounter turn ugly. Ferevellon's eyes were assaying the condition that the young perehel was in and his merry face was grime.

"Elonde said it was different. She's afraid, Castien. Now I can live with insults to me and my people but I'll be damned if you keep me from my son now," Haldir's eyes blazed and his whole body was tensed to fight if the human tried to remove him.

Ferevellon moved forward and said softly, "Master Castien, I am a healer of my people and what your wife says is the truth. He is gravely ill. Please, let me see to him."

Castien's eye flickered over Ferevellon's concerned face and went back to the pain wreaked perehel on the cot. He moved aside and said, "Then go to him, but I'll not let you stay in this house Haldir. You've no authority here. You came to please, Elonde. Now go because I command it. I won't stop your comrades from tending to him but I'll not have you under this roof."

Haldir's jaw worked and Pilindiel could almost hear his teeth gnashing together. She moved forward to his side, "Shall I stay with Ferevellon, Sir?"

"Yes, let me know if you need anything more. I will wait outside," Haldir turned and his eyes held her's, "If anything happens. If he grows worse or weakens further, come and get me."

"I said--" Castien began

"If my son dies tonight then nothing you could do would hold me from coming to him," Haldir said icily.

He left the room and the two elves turned their attention to the young man. Castien sat down again and put a hand on Éleyond's shoulder.

"I take it that this is not the first time that Éleyond has been taken ill in this manner?" Ferevellon asked.

"No. He's had it ever since he was a little one, we don't know why. It comes upon him every few months with no warning. His body becomes weak and his so hot to touch that you'd think his body would burn up. But he's always gotten well again. We just care for him like anyone that's ill and he rallies. But today," Castien's eyes clouded, "I found him in the yard so after your meeting with him, and he's not shown a sign of life since then."

Ferevellon nodded, "I understand. Could ask someone to fetch some water? See that it is as cold as possible."

Castien hesitated by Pilindiel said, "We will take good care of him, sir. Please, bring the water."

Ferevellon worked over the feverish body of the perehel. The temperature was high, and his skin was dry to the touch. Over the course of the next several hours the two elves and Rumil nursed the ill perehel while Castien watched like a guardian lion over his grandson's bed. Haldir paced a groove into the ground and prayed that the Valar would see fit to spare his son from death.

"He's too young," he prayed, "And I have had so little time to be with him, to see him. Please, great Illuvatar, spare my son."

HHHHHHHH

"Nothings working,' Rumil said. He spoke in elvish and watched the expressions on the humans' faces remain blank. He didn't want to alarm them to his fears.

'Isn't there someone we could send for?" Pilindiel asked. She stood by the door bringing in new water and towels from the human women in the kitchen.

Ferevellon shook his sleek head, "No. Even if we could send for Lord Elrond himself there's nothing he could do. This is an illness of the blood. All we can do is fight the symptoms. If we could get the body to cool and get him conscious that would be something..." his words trailed away and he snapped his fingers, "Of course! That's it!"

"What?" Rumil and Pilindiel asked together.

"Well, the only thing that I have ever seen awaken a patient quicker then magic is this!' Ferevellon held up a small crystal bottle of deep crimson liquid. The light shone through the cut crystal and shone in a bloody light over the elf's hand. Turning to Éleyond's grandparents he said in common, "This should help him."

The young man stirred restlessly and he gasped slightly. Ferevellon touched his forehead again and taking the tiny flask in his hand the elf poured a little between the perehel's lips.

'What are you doing?" Rumil hissed, "What is that?"

'It's something I've been saving. Well, so much for saving this for a special occasion," the healer murmured, "Now I have to use it on you. And if this doesn't wake you, I don't know what will."

Ferevellon rubbed the unconscious man's throat and in reflex Éleyond swallowed the wine. A moment later color returned to the perehel's cheeks and his breathing became deep and even. Almost immediately his eyes flew open and he gasped, sitting up to draw great lungfuls of air in. The humans and elves looked at Ferevellon as he corked the flask with a grin.

"Good old Imladris wine," he chuckled, 'Always the does the trick."

"What? You gave him wine?" Pilindiel's eyes widened in shock, "You ass! So much for your 'I'm a healer of my people' bit. No wonder he's perking up. Honestly,"

"You'll be lucky if that doesn't kill him out right," Rumil said.

But Éleyond was far better. His eyes were bright and his temperature was falling amazingly.

'What—was that?" he rasped.

"Wine," Rumil explained, "Special medical wine that we keep for moments when we haven't a skilled healer nearby," this with a frown at Ferevellon, "You should feel alright soon."

"I feel wonderful," Éleyond said, "Must be strong stuff."

"You have no idea," the warden murmured.

As Ferevellon passed Castien the man stopped him with a massive hand on his arm. Bracing for some insult, Ferevellon was surprised when the tanner said, "Thank you elf. Thank you for saving our boy."

"You're welcome sir," Ferevellon responded, 'but I saved him for his sake and for the loyalty I give to my warden. Haldir cares far more for the boy than I ever could. I hope you can see that."

Castien frowned, but he nodded, ' You have my thanks."

They left the young man to his grandparents and met Haldir outside looking as if he was going to tear the building apart. To the rest of the assembled company he was as cool and calm as ever.

"How is he?"

"A bit drunk maybe but nothing more serious," Rumil said annoyed, 'Now."

Haldir's face was a study of confusion, "Drunk?"

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