CHAPTER 2

The boy spun at the strange sound, watching in fascination as pearls scattered upon the marble floor, bouncing and rolling this way and that. Nanneth stood, both hands at her throat in alarm, eyes shining with tears. Nanneth cried too often nowadays and the pearls had been a present from Ada.

"I'll get them." And he was on his knees at once, chasing the pale spheres one by one across the dark marble.

His finely shaped finger and thumb pinched a tiny pearl and he almost dropped it in alarm. Pain lanced through his chest and he gasped, but he did not let go. No pearl must be lost or the symmetry of the necklace would be lost. He dropped it in his pocket swiftly.

Another pearl. A clear, strong featured face framed in a fall of fine golden hair. A feeling of safety washed through him, carrying him through the pounding pain of the next jewel.

With each glowing sphere Elrond was assailed by images and emotions his young and innocent heart could not comprehend.

A glorious, dark haired warrior wielding a silver lance . . . vile faced creatures with glowing yellow eyes . . . the metallic smell of blood . . . a towering figure wreathed in a cloud of fear . . . the taste of ashes in his mouth . . . a carpet of jumbled limbs and blood . . .

Another pearl. A slender elf maiden with long silver hair, bringing with her a feeling of light and comfort. The last pearl . . . and a dark and blunt featured face, limned in the ruddy glow of fire and filled with greedy disdain. A name . . .

"Isildur!"

"Elrond . . . No! Be still!" He struggled to run after the retreating figure but hands held him in a grip of iron. "Elrond . . . Mellon nin . . . peace . . . please . . . lie still."

The voice stilled him where hands would not and Elrond cracked open leaden eyelids to find a vague and insubstantial world in which shadows drifted across his vision and voices murmured words he could not force his mind to comprehend. Then a golden light bent closer, coalescing into the strong-featured face of his childhood vision. When it became clear that Elrond's eyes had focussed upon him, the lips in that face quirked into a small smile.

"And about time, too. I thought you were going to sleep out the next age."

"Fin?" Elrond was surprised by the rough, choking edge to his own voice and tried to cough. An action that he immediately regretted as pain flared from hip to shoulder and he tried in vain to curl onto his side, aware of more hands than Glorfindel's preventing him.

"You must lie still, Lord Elrond." This was another voice, carrying the soft lilt of Lothlorien. "You will tear the stitches."

The words were easily spoken . . . less easily obeyed . . . and it took several minutes for Elrond to still the rocking of his body as it tried to run from the agony firing along hundreds of nerve endings. Slowly, very slowly, the pain slid down from agony to just bearable and he opened eyes he had not realised until now were clenched tightly shut.

A strange elf in blood-smeared healer's garb slid a hand beneath Elrond's head and touched a cup to his lips. Elrond accepted it gratefully, tasting several herbs used to ease pain and fight fever in the cool liquid that trickled steadily into his mouth. He drank all and the healer followed it with a cup of water.

"That is much better, my lord. The tea will ease you and you must take as much fluid as you can. You have lost a great deal of blood, in fact were it not for Lord Glorfindel's swift action you and I would not be having this conversation."

Some distant part of Elrond's mind wondered what this elf considered to be a conversation. Elrond's own part in it so far had consisted largely of moans. Before his head was returned to the pillow Elrond glanced down at his body, blinking as his eyes encountered a swathe of bandages that ran over his left shoulder and around the entire length of his torso to disappear beneath the blanket at his waist. In several places the pale linen was spotted with the scarlet of fresh blood.

He swallowed. It was one thing to treat such injuries on someone else's body but quite another to see them on your own. The healer obviously noticed the greening of his charge's complexion and he and his assistant rolled Elrond expertly on to his side, sliding a basin beneath his chin as the ailing elf brought back the medication he had just taken.

For some time Elrond was aware only of the rippling agony of his body as it protested the actions of his stomach and, distantly, a hand rubbing circles on his back.

Glorfindel looked up at the sound of water being poured and stirred, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on Elrond's trembling back. "Is it safe to give him more medicine?"

The healer nodded, rolling Elrond onto his back in one swift movement and sliding a hand beneath his head. "He did not have time to ingest any of the last dose." He touched the cup to Elrond's lips, encountering some reluctance from his charge. It seemed Elrond was in no mood to repeat that performance any time soon.

"Come, my lord. This will ease your pain and help you sleep," he coaxed and Elrond complied at last, allowing him to trickle the herbal mixture between his lips.

Once his friend was dozing Glorfindel settled himself upon a campstool at his side, capturing one lax hand between both of his, as he tried to will life into the exsanguined flesh.

"Stay with us, Elrond. You are sorely needed and would be even more sorely missed."

TBC

REVIEWERS.

Pelius15. Thank you very much. I have to say that I don't have any medical experience but I'm glad that I at least "sound" as though I know what I'm writing about.

The Oboist in Lorien. LOL! I promise to try not to give Glorfindel a heart attack.

Light. I'm glad my intent is coming across. Thank you.

Silverwolf7. I just love hurting this poor guy. I can't help myself.

Jaimi. I'm glad you love it.

Shirebound. Lol. And ElrondHealers was born!