For six more days Elrond slept, but this time was different. At the end of three days, as Glorfindel watched from his now accustomed seat in the window, Glinkuil beckoned him to the bedside with a smile.

"There is much healing here . . . more so even than is normal in elven kind. I do not know what quality lies in the water my Lady bade Eithel fetch but it seems to have been more powerful than any potions I can blend." He took up a small knife once more and began to cut the last of the stitches free.

00000000

The sound of singing was his first awareness. Two voices woven in perfect harmony within his mind, rich contralto and surprisingly warm soprano. For some time Elrond lay still, afraid to do anything that may cause the lovely dream fade and return him to the world of heat and pain.

Cool fingers touched his chin, turning his head to allow the application of a damp, scented cloth to his cheek. Elrond inhaled more deeply of the cleansing perfume of athelas and, to his dismay, the voices stopped.

"He is waking, Nanneth" came the soprano.

The hand touching his face withdrew and Elrond felt its loss keenly, as though those cool and soft fingers had been caressing his fea; the loss of their touch so painful that he moaned. There was movement, the soft whisper of fine silk, and he sensed someone standing over him. The heat and pain had not returned and he wondered if this was what it was like to awaken in Mandos' Halls. With a small sigh, he forced open heavy eyelids, deciding that he had better rise to his fate.

The brightness made him blink, and for several moments he saw all through a mist of defensive tears. Slowly, the world resolved and he was surprised to find himself looking up into the serene face of Galadriel. She smiled, inclining her golden head, and Elrond revised his decision about his present location. This was definitely not the Halls of Mandos.

"Welcome to Lothlorien, Elrond, Son of Earendil. You have led your healers in a merry dance but you are recovering well now. You need only time and care."

He glanced down at his body, uncovered to the waist to allow his carers to bathe him. He was surprised to find, not bandages but the dark purple line of a healing wound running across his flesh, edged with the tiny dots that marked the site of removed sutures. There was no trace of infection save, perhaps for a fading pink tinge along parts of the scar's length.

A strong hand touched his knee and Elrond glanced across to find his friend beaming down at him. "How are you feeling?"

Elrond tried to reply, with a throat that was glued shut and a tongue three sizes too big for his mouth. The result was a dry, hacking cough that sent his carers into a flurry of activity as still tender flesh protested such deep breaths.

By the time he had recovered enough to be aware of his surroundings once more he was propped against soft pillows and the cool rim of a cup was pressing against his lips. Swallowing, Elrond was surprised when there was no bitter tasting herbal brew, only cool water, stirred with honey and the slightest hint of salt. When the cup had been emptied he tried his voice again.

With a wry smile, he squeezed his friend's hand, where it grasped his. "Better, I think. Thank you, Fin."

"My thanks to you, Lady Galadriel and . . . " He turned to look at her assistant for the first time and his heart faltered. He had seen this face before, in dreams since his earliest childhood.

Eyes the palest blue of spring thawing ice met his, set in a delicately featured face and framed with hair that shimmered like starlight on falling water. She smiled and the warmth of it flooded his fea.

Galadriel's amused voice seemed to come from a long way away. "This is my daughter, Celebrian." The very name seemed to enfold his heart.

Glorfindel watched with some surprise as his friend's eyes softened into an expression he had never seen there before. It took him some moments to recognise it and he could not help a foolish grin when he did. Only the lightest of touches at his elbow for Galadriel suggested that their presence was no longer required and he let her lead him from the room with not a murmur of protest.

As Galadriel reached behind him to close the door Glorfindel caught a glimpse of Celebrian lifting a pot of salve. Elrond's gaze followed her every move, although it was clear his eyes were caught by her face rather than by her hands. Nor was it the steady gaze of a healer.

Glorfindel's grin widened. He had no doubt that Celebrian would bring healing to more than Elrond's flesh and his heart sang both relief and joy at the thought.

END

Glinkuil – Singlife (Sindarin)

Eithel – spring (of water)