Review responses:
ROCHWEN: Well, darling, you must admit, you do tend to have a one- track mind,
ya know? o,O
CANTORA: Yes, I know Dan ish still dead. I hope you recover soon, darling.
*feeds you a get better potato* Yes, potato. *glares at Dev* Much better for
you than cookies. You know, I never really considered where I'd take this
after Anduial ended. That's a good idea. I'll keep it in mind. Thanks.
Chapter Ten
"My lord? My lord! Lord Elrond!"
Elrond's eyes fluttered for a moment, unwilling to see anything more than the inside of their lids. But at another urgent call from someone who seemed miles away, they finally snapped open. Erestor was standing above him, his face tired but anxious. Immediately, Elrond had sat straight up in his bed. A quick glance out the window told him that it was still very early in the morning.
"What is it Erestor? It isn't Elro-"
"No, my lord. It is not your son. It is Gilraeth. He has fallen deathly ill during the night. Glorfindel sent me to tell you. He is very worried . . ."
Elrond rolled out of bed, instantly awake. Pulling on a cloak to ward off the early morning chill, he followed his advisor down the halls to the boy's quarters. Entering the room, Elrond came upon Glorfindel sitting in a chair beside Gilraeth's bed. His dark figure was slumped forward, his eyes focused on the form that was lying in the bed. His attention did not waver from the boy as Erestor and Elrond entered.
Just then, Elrohir stepped in, looking worried. Lord Elrond glanced at his son in brief surprise. Usually Elrohir did not bother with the boy, at least, as far as he knew.
Elrohir whispered, "I heard the voices in the hall. I could not sleep this night, anyway," he added hastily as his father's concerned gaze fell upon him. "The air seemed too troubled for sleep. And now I know why."
Silence followed the prince's statement, but not for long. Elrond quickly went to Gilraeth's side and examined him. His body was hot with fever, his skin pale and clammy. The boy was unresponsive, and clearly not just sleeping. He took shallow, labored breaths, and his lips and mouth were very dry.
As he finished looking Gilraeth over, Elrond was very troubled. "I have no notion of the illness he carries. My knowledge rests within wounds. There has never been need to heal a sickness."
At this, every face, save for Gilraeth's, fell. Glorfindel looked as if the world were ending then and there. Elrohir seemed disappointed, and Elrond briefly wondered if he was thinking back to when he could not save Elladan so long ago. Erestor was grim. His advisor had a soft spot for the pen-neth that Elrond had been unaware of.
It seemed he'd been unaware of many things lately. Hadn't Glorfindel expressed concern over the boy's failing health?
To ease their minds, Elrond added, "But I will do what I can for him."
The next morning, Glorfindel had not moved from his chair. He did not feel the fatigue his body was experiencing, nor the pangs of hunger that rolled in his stomach. His thoughts were fixed solely on Gilraeth. He felt responsible somehow. Gilraeth was in his keeping, and it was his duty to be sure the boy was cared for. And now he was nearly at death's door.
"Please . . ." Glorfindel whispered in a prayer. "Please let him be spared. Do not take him from us . . . from me. Not now. Let him live. Little ones are not meant to die. Spare him."
His prayer, however, seemed to be in vain. The Elf captain doubted that Elbereth even had heard him. But unbeknownst to him, another pair of listening ears had.
For the next few days, Glorfindel refused to move from his spot. Elrond, Elrohir, and Erestor had resorted to bringing the captain's food to Gilraeth's quarters for him, but he rarely ate. He only sat silently in their presence, staring at the pen-neth solemnly. He was inconsolable, deaf to any comforting words his friends had to offer.
When he was alone, he would often sing to Gilraeth, trying to call him back out of the darkness with his clear voice emitting the words of the fair Elven tongue. Sometimes he offered prayers to the Valar and to Elbereth, but always he felt that they were of no use. They did not seem to hear the desperate Elf, just as Gilraeth did not hear the songs for him.
Glorfindel began to despair as the days wore on and Gilraeth steadily grew worse. Elrond tried everything he could to help the boy, but nothing worked. Still, the Elf lord would not give up. This was mostly for Glorfindel's sake, but also for his own sanity. Sometimes he was reminded that he had been too late for Elladan. But he would not be too late for Gilraeth, he vowed. Not this time.
Two weeks after Gilraeth had fallen ill, Elrohir went in to check on him. Actually, he was more concerned for Glorfindel, but he would see how both were holding up anyway. He did not bother to knock. He knew Glorfindel would not respond. Elrohir came in and was shocked at what he saw as he did.
Glorfindel was not in the chair, but face-down on the floor, motionless. Thinking the worst, Elrohir knelt down and turned the captain over on to his back. He felt for a pulse, and, to his great relief, found it. Yet it was weak and sluggish. Elrohir could not waste any more time here. Glancing up at the boy, he took Glorfindel in his arms and hurried to the healing wing. He set the captain upon a bed in an empty room and went to find his father.
"Thank the Valar you found him when you did, Elrohir."
It was the night after Glorfindel had been found in Gilraeth's room upon the floor. Lord Elrond had been summoned at once, and thanks to his quick and powerful skills, Glorfindel was on the mend. But he had not suffered a physical wound.
"Adar, you never did say what ailed Glorfindel," Elrohir replied quietly, looking on at the captain as he slept.
"His heart was breaking. I suppose it is because of the pen-neth," Elrond replied to his son. At the mentioning of Gilraeth, he sighed heavily. Weeks had passed, and the boy was still no better than before. It was a waiting game. Would the sickness take the small child, or would his hardy, strong will outwit it and put him on the road to recovery?
Elrohir sighed lightly as well, also thinking of Gilraeth. While he was never directly involved with the human child, he had been precious to his brother, and so Elrohir had helped in raising him. He felt that he owed it to Elladan in some way.
"Let us hope both Gilraeth and Glorfindel will recover soon."
ROCHWEN: Well, darling, you must admit, you do tend to have a one- track mind,
ya know? o,O
CANTORA: Yes, I know Dan ish still dead. I hope you recover soon, darling.
*feeds you a get better potato* Yes, potato. *glares at Dev* Much better for
you than cookies. You know, I never really considered where I'd take this
after Anduial ended. That's a good idea. I'll keep it in mind. Thanks.
Chapter Ten
"My lord? My lord! Lord Elrond!"
Elrond's eyes fluttered for a moment, unwilling to see anything more than the inside of their lids. But at another urgent call from someone who seemed miles away, they finally snapped open. Erestor was standing above him, his face tired but anxious. Immediately, Elrond had sat straight up in his bed. A quick glance out the window told him that it was still very early in the morning.
"What is it Erestor? It isn't Elro-"
"No, my lord. It is not your son. It is Gilraeth. He has fallen deathly ill during the night. Glorfindel sent me to tell you. He is very worried . . ."
Elrond rolled out of bed, instantly awake. Pulling on a cloak to ward off the early morning chill, he followed his advisor down the halls to the boy's quarters. Entering the room, Elrond came upon Glorfindel sitting in a chair beside Gilraeth's bed. His dark figure was slumped forward, his eyes focused on the form that was lying in the bed. His attention did not waver from the boy as Erestor and Elrond entered.
Just then, Elrohir stepped in, looking worried. Lord Elrond glanced at his son in brief surprise. Usually Elrohir did not bother with the boy, at least, as far as he knew.
Elrohir whispered, "I heard the voices in the hall. I could not sleep this night, anyway," he added hastily as his father's concerned gaze fell upon him. "The air seemed too troubled for sleep. And now I know why."
Silence followed the prince's statement, but not for long. Elrond quickly went to Gilraeth's side and examined him. His body was hot with fever, his skin pale and clammy. The boy was unresponsive, and clearly not just sleeping. He took shallow, labored breaths, and his lips and mouth were very dry.
As he finished looking Gilraeth over, Elrond was very troubled. "I have no notion of the illness he carries. My knowledge rests within wounds. There has never been need to heal a sickness."
At this, every face, save for Gilraeth's, fell. Glorfindel looked as if the world were ending then and there. Elrohir seemed disappointed, and Elrond briefly wondered if he was thinking back to when he could not save Elladan so long ago. Erestor was grim. His advisor had a soft spot for the pen-neth that Elrond had been unaware of.
It seemed he'd been unaware of many things lately. Hadn't Glorfindel expressed concern over the boy's failing health?
To ease their minds, Elrond added, "But I will do what I can for him."
The next morning, Glorfindel had not moved from his chair. He did not feel the fatigue his body was experiencing, nor the pangs of hunger that rolled in his stomach. His thoughts were fixed solely on Gilraeth. He felt responsible somehow. Gilraeth was in his keeping, and it was his duty to be sure the boy was cared for. And now he was nearly at death's door.
"Please . . ." Glorfindel whispered in a prayer. "Please let him be spared. Do not take him from us . . . from me. Not now. Let him live. Little ones are not meant to die. Spare him."
His prayer, however, seemed to be in vain. The Elf captain doubted that Elbereth even had heard him. But unbeknownst to him, another pair of listening ears had.
For the next few days, Glorfindel refused to move from his spot. Elrond, Elrohir, and Erestor had resorted to bringing the captain's food to Gilraeth's quarters for him, but he rarely ate. He only sat silently in their presence, staring at the pen-neth solemnly. He was inconsolable, deaf to any comforting words his friends had to offer.
When he was alone, he would often sing to Gilraeth, trying to call him back out of the darkness with his clear voice emitting the words of the fair Elven tongue. Sometimes he offered prayers to the Valar and to Elbereth, but always he felt that they were of no use. They did not seem to hear the desperate Elf, just as Gilraeth did not hear the songs for him.
Glorfindel began to despair as the days wore on and Gilraeth steadily grew worse. Elrond tried everything he could to help the boy, but nothing worked. Still, the Elf lord would not give up. This was mostly for Glorfindel's sake, but also for his own sanity. Sometimes he was reminded that he had been too late for Elladan. But he would not be too late for Gilraeth, he vowed. Not this time.
Two weeks after Gilraeth had fallen ill, Elrohir went in to check on him. Actually, he was more concerned for Glorfindel, but he would see how both were holding up anyway. He did not bother to knock. He knew Glorfindel would not respond. Elrohir came in and was shocked at what he saw as he did.
Glorfindel was not in the chair, but face-down on the floor, motionless. Thinking the worst, Elrohir knelt down and turned the captain over on to his back. He felt for a pulse, and, to his great relief, found it. Yet it was weak and sluggish. Elrohir could not waste any more time here. Glancing up at the boy, he took Glorfindel in his arms and hurried to the healing wing. He set the captain upon a bed in an empty room and went to find his father.
"Thank the Valar you found him when you did, Elrohir."
It was the night after Glorfindel had been found in Gilraeth's room upon the floor. Lord Elrond had been summoned at once, and thanks to his quick and powerful skills, Glorfindel was on the mend. But he had not suffered a physical wound.
"Adar, you never did say what ailed Glorfindel," Elrohir replied quietly, looking on at the captain as he slept.
"His heart was breaking. I suppose it is because of the pen-neth," Elrond replied to his son. At the mentioning of Gilraeth, he sighed heavily. Weeks had passed, and the boy was still no better than before. It was a waiting game. Would the sickness take the small child, or would his hardy, strong will outwit it and put him on the road to recovery?
Elrohir sighed lightly as well, also thinking of Gilraeth. While he was never directly involved with the human child, he had been precious to his brother, and so Elrohir had helped in raising him. He felt that he owed it to Elladan in some way.
"Let us hope both Gilraeth and Glorfindel will recover soon."