Chapter Twenty-Five
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SUMMARY: As Evan's and Rhian's friendship deepens, Daeron runs into a bit of trouble in the Golden Wood...
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"Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great."
― Roger de Rabutin de Bussy
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City of Dale, 20th of October, 2942 T.A.
It was warm today, and Evan whistled as he left work. He liked to stop and take a few minutes to enjoy the view from the top of the city, before he began his walk back to his apartment. He loved the warm, ecru tones of the buildings, the bright red roof tiles, and the winding cobblestone streets that meandered up, down and through each neighborhood. It was a new and exciting place to him, much different from the farming village of East Bight, where he had grown up. Evan took a few deep breaths of the crisp, Autumn air, as listened to the peaceful sound of the water flowing from the fountain in the courtyard.
He felt like the luckiest man alive.
As was typical this time of year, Dale was enjoying a warm spell, and it's took advantage of the fair weather before bundling up for the winter. People waved as they bustling through the streets, and children called out to him as they played on the sidewalks. Evan returned their greetings with a smile as he made his way to Lord Ben's house. He knocked on the heavy wooden door, but there was no answer.
"Hello?" he called. "Hello! Is anyone home?"
"I'm in the back yard!" Rhian answered.
He followed the stone path to find the girl kneeling on an old blanket, with her curly brown hair pinned up, digging in the dirt. She sat back on her heels and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "Sorry I didn't answer the door."
"You look like you're having fun," he smiled.
"Oh, I love gardening, and this…" she swept her arm out, "is going to be just beautiful next year; I can't wait!" Rhian wiped her cheek, accidentally smudging it. "So, what brings you here? You're done at the Castle for the day?"
"I am, but Ben isn't. He asked me to tell you he'll be working late, tonight."
She nodded. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll bring him over some supper later."
"I doubt he'll be there. There's a problem with the drains down by the South Gate, so he and Lord Bard will be down there for most of the evening."
"Well, it's always something, I suppose." She shook her head and sighed. "Winter will be here soon, and I'll be happy to see him slow down a bit."
"Ben loves loves the work, though, and he's a genius at design, especially all those apartment houses. His floor plans make excellent use of space and the ladies love all the new closets and shelves."
"That's true. I've never seen Da so happy."
"Oh, I suspect his new daughter and grandson have something to do with that. You two are all he talks about." He dug the toe of his boot in the patch of soil. "What are you working on?"
"This!" she held up a small sack. "Daeron sent me these bulbs from the Palace with a note that made me promise to plant them together. His mother brought them with her when she came last week."
"Which one is Daeron's mother?"
"Idril. She was the red-haired Elf teaching classes in the Great Hall kitchens, remember?"
"Great cook…" Evan sighed wistfully. "Always sent me home with a basket of something tasty. She has a twin, right? Turamarth's mother?"
"Aye," Rhian nodded, as she patted down another mound of dirt. "Indis is Daeron's aunt. She stayed with me at the Palace, after the baby was born."
"How is Daeron doing? Have you heard from him?"
"I got a letter from him a few days ago. He's settling in, and getting used to the slower pace there. There aren't any humans in the Golden Wood, so hardly any children. Oh! He says they live high up in these giant trees, as wide as our house! I can't imagine that, can you?"
"That'd be a sight to see." Keeping his tone casual, Evan said, "It's not the same around here without Daeron. I know everyone at the Castle misses him."
"So do I. He's my best friend, really." She smiled fondly as she dug another hole with her trowel. "I'm an only child, and I've always wanted to have a big brother."
Evan gave no evidence of the relief that washed over him. Rhian was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and he wanted to get to know her better, but as the new man in town, he feared stepping on anyone's toes.
"I want to get these in the ground before Darryn wakes up. Have a seat and keep me company?" She jerked her head toward a nearby bench.
"I've got a better idea. Here," he tugged at the blanket she was kneeling on. "Make some room for me."
"Evan, you're in your nice clothes! I can't let you –"
"So, move over and I won't ruin my leggings. As far as my hands…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his riding gloves.
"Oh, blast!" Rhian made a face as she held up her grimy fingers. "I wish I'd thought of that,"
"Next time," He rolled his shoulder in a small shrug. "Now, let's get this done."
As they worked, their conversation was easy and relaxed. When the last bulb was covered, she gave the soil a satisfied pat and got to her feet. "There! Come on in and wash up. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"I wouldn't turn that down." Evan took his gloves off. "It's getting chilly out here. Hang on a minute," he took his handkerchief handed it to her. "You've got a smudge… right there," he pointed to her cheek.
"Thanks." She took it shyly wiped it off, as they walked the curved cobblestone path to the back door, where Darryn babbling loudly in from his crib.
"Sounds like His Lordship is finished with his nap," she quipped.
"Is he always cheerful like that?" he asked.
"For the most part, but he can be a real monster when he's teething. Or if he thinks he's not the center of attention." Just let me wash my hands, then I'll bring him out."
"I could get him, if you like," he volunteered.
"Sure." She went to the kitchen sink and pumped water into the basin. "You change him while I clean my hands, and then I'll put the kettle on."
"Sure thing." Evan followed the baby's noises, and found the nursery just in time to see Darryn pull himself up in his crib to stand. "Hey there, you!" He called softly and went over and picked him up.
The baby blew a raspberry at him, then grinned, as he chewed on his finger.
"Ugh, Darryn!" Evan's nose wrinkled, and he made a face. "No wonder you look so pleased with yourself. Come on, then."
He cleaned and changed Darryn with experienced hands, and took care of the soiled diaper before he carried him back out to the kitchen.
"There he is! There's my little man!" Rhian gave her son a brilliant smile. "Were you good for Evan?"
"That depends, on your definition of 'good,'" he smirked. "There was a 'gift' waiting for me in his nappy, but he behaved while I cleaned him up."
Rhian snickered, and shook her head at her son. "Did you have a good nap, sweetie? Did you?" She pressed several kisses to his little cheek. "Thanks for that. I've got some cookies if you'd like a few."
"Sounds good." He pulled out a chair and sat down with Darryn and looked around. Rhian kept things neat as a pin, and well organized. "This is a great house."
"Thanks. It's got a long way to go, but we love it. We're living on the first floor for now, till things slow down for Da. He's of the same mind as Lord Bard – get the housing ready for everyone else, then look to our own."
""I was surprised when I first started to work at the Castle, and saw the family crammed into the old servant's quarters, but that shows Lord Bard's quality." I respect him for that."
"It's still a lot nicer than the houses in Laketown. They're a close-knit family and really don't mind," she smiled fondly. "I know Lord Thranduil is enjoying he new family. Tauriel loves it too, and the children adore their new older sister."
"What's it like at the Palace?"
"Oh, it's beautiful! You should go, as soon as you have the chance, and see it for yourself. Darryn and I were lucky enough to have an apartment near the Royal Family, away from all the hustle and bustle going on." She lowered her eyes. "I… had a lot to recover from, so Indis looked after me till I got stronger."
"Rhian," Evan said softly. "You Da told me a little of what happened, and I'm so sorry you were put through that."
"I… just don't want to dwell on it too much. I just want to get on with my life."
"I hope I didn't upset you, at Lady Tilda's birthday party. I honestly had no idea –"
"You didn't." She assured him. "Hannah's been helping me a lot, and I'm doing much better. She comes to see me, and when she's here, I bring it all out, and I'm learning to put it away afterwards, so I can concentrate on living my life today." She winced. "It isn't always easy, but I'm getting better at it."
"You should be proud of yourself."
"Thank you; I am." her lovely green eyes met his, and he saw the growing self-assurance in them. "She keeps telling me to accept compliments, instead of argue with them."
"She's right, you know."
"I'm still working on that," she shrugged. "The most important thing is how my life is now, and Phylip and Garth don't deserve even ten minutes of it."
"That's a brilliant way to think about it, Rhian." He was astounded by her attitude and determination. "It really is."
"It's a day-to-day thing, but the days are getting better." She smiled.
Just then, the kettle began to sing, so Rhian got up and fixed them some tea and laid the plate of cookies between them.
"Half of one, sweetie," Rhian broke a cookie in two and handed it to Darryn. "Any more will spoil your dinner."
The baby squealed and eagerly reached out is hand and took it. "Mmmmm…" he chewed happily, as he grabbed Evan's nose.
"Brrf!" he cried, which made them both laugh. "Brrf!"
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Lothlórien, 4thof November, 2942 T.A.
Most of the Galadhrim welcomed Daeron and his troops, but a few Elves who remained suspicious and made little attempt to become acquainted with the Woodland Guardians.
Daeron had especially looked forward to their trip to the nearby village of Langhold, and spend several days treating their sick and checking on the overall health of their children. Orlin, a young Healer was to accompany him, but his heart sank when the Master Healer decided Penlod, one of the senior Healers would accompany them.
The two-hour ride there was awkward at first, and all attempts to engage the older, dark-haired Elf was met with stony silence, until the others shrugged and chatted between themselves.
Orlin was a young, and a new Healer, but what he lacked in experience he made up for in passion for his work and an eagerness to learn. Since Daeron's arrival in Lothlórien, Orlin had poured over his notebooks, and copied many of them in his spare time. When he wasn't doing that, he peppered Daeron with questions, especially regarding the race of Men.
They set up in the Main Hall, and quickly got to work. Each Elf was paired with a Healer from Langhold, who introduced each patient along with their history of illness. It was an efficient setup, and it pleased Daeron to see their willingness to be examined by these foreigners.
The children were a delight, of course, with their easy smiles, light hair, and ruddy complexions. The adults were hesitant at first, but were soon won over when they saw for themselves how these Elves worked.
The Rohirim were a fairly healthy group. Their last several harvests had been a success, so they access to a good variety of fruits and vegetables, to encourage their resistance to disease. The Elves spent the week treating ordinary human ailments such as colds in the children, and easing rheumatism and heart ailments in the elderly
On the last afternoon, Orlin approached him. "Daeron, could I speak to you?"
"What is it?" he asked.
"I need to speak with you in private." They walked outside and around to the back of the building, where Daeron stopped and waited expectantly.
"It's Penlod," Orlin began hesitantly, "Valar knows why he even came with us! He's been surly to the patients, and the Langholdian Healer assigned to him is fed up, because he does not want to listen to her!"
"You must not say these things." Daeron whispered. "If you have a complaint, go to the Master of the Healing Hall, or the Lady herself –"
"I know, and I will," Orlin looked around nervously, then leaned closer, "but Penlod has just examined a pregnant woman, and I think he is overlooking something."
"But she is his patient!" Daeron hissed. "This is a clear violation—"
"Daeron, this is your specialty! Please!"
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "How am I supposed to do this?"
"If I find a way to distract him," Orlin pleaded, "can you check her over?"
"Are you sure I could not try to get his permission to look at her?"
"If it were any other Elf, I would say yes, but Penlod is… rigid." Orlin's mouth thinned, as he shook his head. "He could make our lives miserable, but is that more important than a woman and an unborn child
"No," he admitted. "Very well."
They went back into the Meeting Hall, and when Orlin led Penlod away under the guise of asking for his help, Daeron dashed over to the woman in question and ducked behind the privacy screen.
"Greetings, Mistress," he smiled.
"Hello," the young woman said, shyly. "That other Elf told me everything was fine. I am, aren't I?"
"I am sure you are, but would you allow me to check something?"
Daeron helped her lie back down, and was just about to place his hands on her belly, when the curtain was ripped open, and Penlod demanded in Sindarin:
"What are you doing with my patient?"
Daeron answered in a calm tone so as not to upset the girl. "I apologize, Penlod. I was told she needed examining, and as I am experienced in this field, I was hoping I could assist you. If you would allow me to –"
"I will not. This is my patient and you will step back, is that clear?"
"It is," Daeron bowed his head and saluted. "Again, my apologies."
He gave the young woman a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand. "I am sorry, but there has been a bit of a misunderstanding. I wish you well." Daeron walked away with with a great deal of reluctance, because Orlin's instinct about the patient was correct. Something was not right.
Soon after the Elves returned to the Golden Wood, Daeron wasn't surprised to be summoned before the Master Healer, where Penlod and Orlin were also waiting.
"How dare he step in and take over my patient!" Penlod shouted. "This… Guardian,"his lip curled as he pointed, "should be at the Fences, or better yet, back in Mirkwood, where he belongs, along with the rest of them!"
The Master calmly crossed his arms, and looked at Daeron. "What have you to say, Lieutenant?"
"I apologize for the deception, but –"
"It was my fault, Master." Orlin interrupted. "I begged Daeron to look at her. If there is anyone to blame, it should be me."
"But it was I who agreed to it," Daeron said. "I take full responsibility for that."
Hands on hips, Master Gilfanon's gaze traveled between the two of them. "Why would you do such a thing?"
Orlin explained, "I sensed all is not well with the woman. She is eight months pregnant, and I have been studying Daeron's case notes –"
"I do not care!" Penlod was furious. "I have been working in medicine for three thousand years and I will nothave my knowledge usurped by some interloper who does not believe in professional courtesy!"
"Enough, Penlod!" The Master's rebuke was sharp. "I understand your anger, and I do not dispute the fact that they should have asked permission."
"Hmmff," Penlod crossed his arms in vindication.
But the Master Healer was not finished. "I have also noted your animosity, and that is why I sent you along to Langhold. Let me ask you, if Daeron had asked you, would you have allowed it?"
Silence.
The Master shook his head. "You are an excellent Healer, mellon, but there is always more to learn, do you not see that?"
"I truly am sorry to anger you," Daeron said again. "However, I think Orlin might be right: all is not well with that patient."
"How would you know?" Penlod demanded. "You didn't touch her!"
"Because I know what I am doing!" Daeron said impatiently, his hands clenched at his sides. "Over the course of two hundred years, I treated over five thousand pregnant Women in Dale, and presided over the births of every Prince and Princess there for seven generations!" He shouted. "I hated the idea of going behind your back, but my concern is for the patients, not your ego!" "I do not know your reasons for resenting our presence here, and I do not care. The opinions I value are those of my King, and the Lord and Lady, and the Master Healer, and I will serve to best of my ability, no matter what you think!"
Penlod's face flushed with fury. "How dare you!"
"Silence!" The Master snapped. "We will calm down and settle this without shouting, is that clear?"
"Yes, Master," they replied.
"Daeron and Orlin," Gilfanon began, "you should have paid Penlod the respect of speaking to him of your concerns, and at least offering to assist. If he refused, then you could have spoken to me privately, and I would have investigated the matter. Do you understand?"
"I do," Orlin said.
"I agree, as well," Daeron nodded.
Then the Master addressed Penlod. "I have worked with you for many years, Mellon, but your sour attitude helped to create this problem. I was hoping by sending you along, it might help you change your mind. You are a senior member of my staff, and my friend; I simply cannot understand this! Can you tell us why you are so against this?
Penlod's jaw clench, but he said nothing.
"Very well, your reasons are your own," Master Gilfanon sighed, but I expect more professional behavior from each and every one of you. I despise these politics and will not deal with them again!"
Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.
"Now," he continued, "let us focus on the patient at the center of this conflagration. Daeron what did you discover?"
"I did not have the time for a thorough examination, but her feet were swollen to a degree that worried me. Penlod, did you poke a finger into her feet or ankles?" When the Elf shook his head, he asked, "Did she complain of a headache at all?"
"Yes, and of course I eased her—"
"Was it a throbbing headache?" A growing worry spread in Daeron's stomach.
"Yes…"
"Naergon…"his eyes closed. Orlin dashed over to ran over to Daeron's notebooks and quickly began to leaf through the pages of one of them.
"What is wrong, Lieutenant?" The Master asked.
"I think she may have a condition called –"
"Toximia!" Orlin cried. "Am I right, Daeron?"
"That is what I feared," he ran his hand down his face.
"And that means, what, exactly?" the Master was concerned.
"It means if we do not go back to the village immediately, she and the child may die, if she has not already!"
"Surely not!" Penlod gasped. "She simply had a headache…"
Daeron and Orlin exchanged worried glances as they awaited the Master's decision.
"You two will leave immediately," Gilfanon ordered quickly. "Gather whatever you might need and make ready to leave in ten minutes. Orlin, you will arrange for an escort."
"Of course." Orlin dashed out of the room, as Daeron grabbed his bag and filled it with herbs, bandages and surgical instruments wrapped in sterile cloths.
"Master?" Penlod asked, looking chagrined. "I would like to go, if I might."
The Master's eyes narrowed slightly and studied the Healer's face. "I am assigning this case to Daeron; do you agree to follow his instructions precisely?"
"I…" Penlod's eyes lowered. Of course," he said quietly.
Within minutes, the three Healers and their torch-carrying escort raced into the night. An hour later, the lights of Langhold could be in the distance. When they grew close, they blew their horns to announce their approach.
"Hello, the Gates!" one of the escort called out.
"Who goes there, in the dark?" A voice called down to them from the parapet.
"We are Elven Healers of Lothlórien, and there is a patient who urgently needs our help." Daeron answered, as the drew their horses to a stop in front of the wall surrounding the town. "It could be a matter of life and death!"
The door beside the Gate opened, and a man with long, straw-colored hair came out, and looked at them. "I remember you." The man turned, cupped his mouth and yelled, "Open 'er up, Colum! They're all right!"
"Thank you. We are looking for a young blonde woman, heavy with child, by the name of…" Daeron looked at Penlod for help.
"Her name was Isbeil."
"I know the girl you mean. She's married to a friend of my son's. Come on; I'll take you to her."
Daeron took his foot from his left stirrup and held out his hand. "Here, get up behind me; we must be quick."
He pulled the man onto the back of the saddle, and followed his directions, until they reached a cottage almost to the other end of town.
"That's the one." He pointed. "It's just the two of them; this babe will be their first. I've got to get back, but best of luck to you."
"Stay on my horse; a guard will take you back." After giving instructions to their escort, the Healers dismounted, walked up to the door with their bags, and knocked.
A worried young man with red, shoulder-length hair greeted them with relief. "I don't know how you got here; I just thank Béma you did."
"We are the Healers—"
"Aye, I know; I just sent for my mother, because my Izzy's in a bad way. My name is Rob." He waved them into a small, but comfortable sitting room.
"I would like permission to examine your wife, Rob. I think I can help."
"Rob? Who is it?" a female voice called weakly from the back of the house.
"Go, please!" Rob pointed to a door down the hall. "Her head is killing her, and I don't know what to do."
"Orlin," Daeron directed. Would you please help Rob boil some water, and gather some clean basins, extra bedding, lots of towels and some soap?"
"Right away." Orlin placed his hand on the young Man's back and urged him into the kitchen.
"Penlod, please come with me," Daeron said in a low voice, as they walked down the passage to the open bedroom. "I may need your help, but you must do exactly what I tell you." He didn't bother waiting for a response; his attention was riveted on the bed where a young woman lay on her side, clasping her head and whimpering in pain.
"Isbeil?" Daeron approached the be. "Can you hear me?"
She could barely open her eyes. "My head hurts."
"I imagine it does. But I am here to help you." Daeron placed hands on her and found what he'd anticipated: quick, shallow breathing, and a dangerously rapid heartbeat.
"Can you lie still for me?" he asked her, as he gently urged her onto her back.
"Mm Hmm," She moaned, covering her eyes.
"Penlod, come stand beside me, and your hands on top of mine," he said, keeping his voice relaxed.
"Why?"
"You will see."
He placed his hands on her belly, as did his colleague. "Now, close your eyes, concentrate, and I will show you."
He breathed in and out several times, then concentrated.
The child became alerted to Daeron's presence and jerked awake.
Suil, Tithen Pen; I am here...
Help me… the baby kicked her arms and legs weakly then was still. The umbilical cord was in spasm from the stress on the mother's body, so he spoke to it in Quenya and helped it to relax and encouraged the blood to flow freely. In a moment, the child's movements began again, and she was able to relax.
He heard Penlod's loud gasp and the hands lifted from his.
"It cannot be! How do you do this?"
"I will speak of it later, when we are finished. I have made the child more comfortable, but the mother is in grave danger."Daeron replied, then he poked his finger into one of her ankles and showed Penlod the dimple that remained in her flesh. "Do you see this? It is a sign that her body is full of fluid and her kidneys and other organs are under strain. The pressure in her blood vessels is great, because of the extra fluid in her body, and it could cause her to have a massive stroke if we do not stop it."
"This is… Toxemia?"
"Yes. Put your hands on her chest again with me. Do you see how tight her blood vessels are?"
"I see…" Penlod observes. "What do we do?"
Just then, Rob and Orlin came in, carrying the requested items.
"I have got another kettle heating, just for good measure," the young man said. "Is the baby coming?"
Daeron looked at Penlod, then asked. "Might we speak in your Sitting Room?" He put his arm around Rob's shoulder and led them out of the bedroom.
After urging the husband sit down, he didn't mince words. "Isbeil has a very serious condition called Toxemia, and the only cure for it is to give birth, and that must happen immediately, if she and the child are going to survive."
"Oh, Béma…" Rob put his hands over his mouth. "But, she hasn't had any pains, yet."
"That helps us, in this case," Daeron told him gently. "I need your permission to put her to sleep, and then we will make an incision through her belly and remove the child. It is the only way, I am afraid."
"What? Y-you can't do that!" Rob grew pale, and Orlin put his arm on the man's shoulder to steady him.
"My friend Daeron is an expert in these matters, Rob." The blonde Elf encouraged. "No one this side of the Misty Mountains knows more about midwifery than he."
"We cannot delay, Rob," Daeron met his gaze with confidence. "I have done hundreds of these, and I can promise you, I will not make a mistake, but if we do not act fast, Isbeil and your daughter have no chance."
"Daughter?"
"The child is a girl, and she is not doing well. We are running out of time, Rob, and I must ask you to decide quickly."
"How long would it take?" The Man ran his hands up and down his thighs nervously.
"The surgery itself could have the baby out and breathing on her own in five minutes."
"Daeron is a gifted Healer, and if anyone can save them, he can."
The Guardian's head snapped up in surprise and met Penlod's eyes, who gave him a small nod.
"Go then," Rob said in a small, thin voice as he sank back in his chair and covered his face. "Oh, gods; I can't lose her…"
"I will look after him." Orlin patted the young man's shoulder. "Call out if you need anything."
Daeron and Penlod wasted no time and went back to their patient.
"Am I going to die?" Isbeil whimpered.
"No, child." He sat down on the bed and stroked her forehead. "Shhh…. Close your eyes, and relax…" Daeron softly chanted the losta-luith, and as soon as she was under the Elves went to work.
Penlod undressed the woman and placed extra padding underneath her while Daeron laid out his instruments and prepared a place on a dresser for the infant.
"And the only cure for this is to give birth?" Penlod asked, as they washed their hands thoroughly.
"Yes. While I am working on her belly, you must watch her heart and make sure she takes steady breaths."
"I will. Just tell me what you need."
It went smoothly and efficiently. Daeron made the incision, and worked as quickly as possible, Penlod handed him the instruments, and a few minutes later, he was holding the tiny girl in his hands, but she was limp and blue.
"Quickly!" Daeron ordered. "Tie and cut the cord!" Once done he said, "Call for Orlin to keep Isbeil stable, while we revive the child."
He bundled the baby up and took her to the dresser, and got to work, as Orlin rushed in.
"Come here, Penlod, and I will show you." Daeron explained. "Human babies sometimes have fluid in their lungs at birth." He picked up a thin glass tube with a pump on one side, and showed Penlod how it worked, and within seconds her airway was clear.
The infant remained blue and limp, so Penlod watched as he put his mouth over her nose and mouth and blew three, oh-so-gentle breaths and massaged her chest lightly below her sternum with two fingers in a rapid, but stead rhythm until she stiffened and kicked her legs a little.
"What did you just do?" The other Healer was wide-eyed. "Was she dead?"
"Not yet. When a newborn is in this state, we must stimulate her system to help her draw breath. Now watch and see what happens." He began to rub her all over with a linen towel, until she finally inhaled and began to squeak. The squeaks soon turned into high-pitched, lusty cries.
"Here she is! Mê g'ovannen, gwennig!" The Lieutenant laughed. "Welcome to the world!"
"She turns pink so quickly!" Penlod observed.
"Crying is good for these little ones; it helps get their lungs working and get the air into the blood. Here," he handed over the tiny bundle. "Take her to her father, but watch her carefully for the next hour or so, while Orlin and I close Isbeil's incision. Keep your hand on the infant, and monitor her heart and breathing patterns, and if she struggles or changes color, alert me. Tell Rob that I believe she will live, but we must stay the night to watch her carefully."
"I will." Penlod nodded, as he closed the door behind him.
They enjoyed listening to Rob's delighted cries, but he were shocked to hear Penlod's voice, speak to the baby in low, soothing tones.
Daeron and Orlin worked together to close and stitch the wounds, as the Guardian explained the process. Then they changed the bedding, washed and dressed her in a clean gown they found in a drawer.
"Orlin," Daeron grasped his friend's shoulder, "I know you are disappointed that I asked Penlod to assist instead of you, but…"
"It was a wise move, Mellon. Penlod is a skilled Healer, and now that he has seen for himself, he understands, and things will be better. Now, let us speak to the husband."
Rob was beside Penlod holding his new daughter, when they emerged.
"Your wife is well," Daeron assured him. "Her body needs a chance to rest, so I would like to keep her in a Healing Sleep until tomorrow morning. We will sit with her throughout the night, just to be sure, and encourage the baby to nurse a little. Your new daughter is small, and we need to watch her for a little while, but I think she is strong."
"Thank you," Rob heaved a sigh of relief. "I can't even tell you how scared I was. She came down with a headache this morning and it just got worse and worse..."
"Do not think about that now. Just focus on your new family and I will meet with the Healers here before we leave, to decide on a treatment plan. Do you have family here?"
"Izzy's mum should be here soon, and she plans to stay for a few weeks, until things get settled."
"That would be good."
Once things were settled, and the baby fed a little, she was laid on her mother's chest with a blanket, which helped her settle down, then Daeron put a hand on Rob's shoulder.
"We will look after them, so I encourage you to get some sleep while you still can. You will need it," he smiled.
"I will. Thanks again," the young man yawned and headed to the spare room.
Orlin picked up the pile of blood-soaked bedding. "I will wash these, so Rob doesn't see them." And he left the other Healers to begin their vigil.
After several quiet minutes, Daeron heard the raven-haired Healer sigh.
"I... misjudged you. I am sorry."
"I hope this brings an end to the enmity between us, Penlod. Whatever your feelings, you did well tonight. I have no grudge with you, and would like us to work well together."
"I would like that, too."
"It is forgotten. Let us see to our patients, shall we?"
For the rest of the night, as they checked on the new mother, and worked to heal her wounds, Daeron confided to his new friend about his lovely Rhian, and the little boy he adored. He shared his hopes, his prayers and his heartache over it.
But he never mentioned the Lady's message to him, nor his anticipation (and dread, if he were honest) as he worked and waited for Galadriel to give him the answers once and for all that would decide his fate.
.
.
.
ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Naergon…- Oh, no… (Lit. "Lament…")
Suil, Tithen Pen – Hello, Little One
Mê g'ovannen, gwennig! - Well met, little maid!