Chapter Eleven:
The arrow sailed over the target once again. She heard Legolas let out a quiet sigh. They had been 'training' for the last half hour while Aragorn and Boromir helped the hobbits with their swordsmanship. Glorfindel had advised her that, if she did not wish for the fellowship to know about her past or her Valor-Given gifts, then it would be best for her to seem like an ordinary human woman. That meant sabotaging her own training sessions. She would hold the bow wrong, or 'forget' how to notch an arrow, and Legolas would patiently explain to her the correct way of doing things. Honestly, she had to give him credit for how hard he was trying and for his unending supply of patience.
The previous evening, Aragorn had attempted to start training her with a sword. She really hammed it up on that one, seeing as Glorfindel had greatly improved her sword-handling skills over the past two weeks. She would let the sword be knocked out of her hand, strike to high so as to exposed herself for attack, move too slowly to dodge his swings. They all seemed to be very patient with her, but it was harder for her to pretend to know nothing when she might have been a better fighter now than half of them.
"Let's go over this again," she heard Legolas say from behind her. He positioned her arms in the correct place, checked her stance, made sure her arrow was properly positioned, and gave her the cue to fire. She let the arrow go, deciding she would aim for the outer fringes of the target this time. The arrow sunk into the far right edge, although not very deeply. Legolas turned to her with a smile.
"Well done, that's an improvement. You managed to hit the target this time." She had come to realize that Legolas was not particularly expressive, but for him, this was an excited exclamation of high praise. She shrugged after she brought her bow down to her side.
"It is I guess," she said, looking over to him.
"Don't worry, by the end of this week I am sure you will be able to make a bullseye at least once, and after that we can continue training on the road," he suggested. Laurel felt slightly annoyed, but had to remind herself that everyone thought she had never held a bow before yesterday.
"We leave in a week?" she changed the subject. Legolas nodded to her, glancing toward the targets that had arrows littering the ground around them.
"You will be prepared by then," he assured her. That's not what I'm worried about, she thought to herself. She had convinced them yesterday evening with Legolas' help, not to force her to join them for meals. After the fiasco at dinner, they all politely agreed, not wanting to upset her. Training with them after dinner had left her feeling run-down and weary. So this morning she met with Glorfindel, but not to train, just to lie in the sun and talk about her upcoming journey. After about an hour, they had run out of things to talk about, so he returned to the main halls while she remained in the little glen.
For hours she laid out there, enjoying the company of the animals and relaxing. She was usually happier and more pleasant to be around when she's gotten enough sun. She felt like she had days of energy stored up and was ready for the training session with Boromir to begin once she was done training with Legolas. She was about to pick up another arrow to shoot when she heard the chattering voices of hobbits. Glancing behind her she saw Aragorn and the four hobbits coming their way. Pip and Merry looked inspirited from their training, Frodo just had a complacent smile, and Sam, poor Sam, it looked like he was not having as much fun as the others. Training must not have gone the way he wanted it to, she thought.
"Legolas,"Aragorn greeted with a half smile. "I believe Boromir wishes to trade students." Legolas glanced over her head to see Boromir behind them a ways, examining the swords and testing their weight. He gave a nod to his friend, holding out a hand for the bow Laurel had been practicing with. She handed it over gave him a small smile.
"Thank you for being so patient today, Legolas," she said, pulling the quiver of arrows from her back.
"Of course," he returned her smile. "It is my pleasure to help prepare you for our journey." Aragorn showed her where Boromir was standing, waiting for her so that they could begin her next swordsmanship lesson. Laurel made her way over to him, stopping and waiting for him to speak. He looked up at her from the sword he was inspecting, looked back to the sword, then back to her.
"This should be a more appropriate sword for you than the one Aragorn supplied yesterday evening." He handed her a sword that was substantially smaller than the one she had used in her training with Glorfindel and looked to be the same size as the hobbits' swords. She tested its weight in her hand, getting aquatinted with the feel of this new type of sword.
"Show me your fighting stance," Boromir got straight to it. Laurel placed her feet shoulder-width apart squared her shoulders and held the sword as Aragorn had instructed her to. Boromir rubbed the scruff on his chin as he assessed her form.
"Stagger your feet more, bring this arm down more, and turn your hips this way," he said as he adjusted her stance. Laurel felt his put his hands on her hips and decided she did not like the feeling of his hands on her whatsoever. Satisfied that she was now ready to train properly, he went to pick up his own sword.
"Do your best to parry my swings," he directed. She nodded, watching him approach her. His first blow came fast, slashing down through the air to her left. But rather than parry with her sword, she simply sidestepped the swing and prepared for the next blow. Boromir readjusted quickly, now at her middle, something she couldn't as easily jump back from. Laurel turned her sword to meet his, half-heartedly putting any strength behind it. The force knocked her back a few steps and she brought the sword back up to block more swings. Boromir was nearly relentless in his assault. He swung swiftly and with thinly veiled impatience with her lack of skill. Laurel was starting to get worried at how hard he was striking and her weak attempts at blocking them were not cutting it. She resorted to dodging some of the blows while blocking others. His face seemed determined and focused and it was clear to her that he would rather not be here training with her.
"You must be quicker!" he ground out, slashing to her right, nearly catching her side. Laurel's eyes widened when she saw a glimmer of anger, or maybe frustration, in his eyes as his strikes grew in strength and speed. There was no way she could keep up appearances and continue blocking his advances. He swung once more at her and she moved to jump back, her heel catching on her other foot and causing her to fall. On her way to the ground, however, Boromir's sword sliced through the skin of her stomach. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, she guessed, but it hurt enough for her to let out a yelp of pain. She landed in the dirt and quickly brought a hand to her stomach, seeing blood start to stain her tunic.
"Boromir! What did you do?" Aragorn's voice called from behind him. Laurel looked around him to see Aragon and Legolas quickly striding over to them, a shocked group of hobbits by the archery targets. She keenly felt the sting of the wound now, and it was the deepest cut she had ever sustained since Glorfindel was always very careful not to hurt her too badly during their training. Glancing down at the wound again, she reassessed the damage. Maybe she misjudged how deep the cut was, because it was starting to bleed much more than just a shallow one. Boromir dropped his sword as he turned to face the elf and the ranger.
"We were just training," he huffed in explanation. Legolas stooped down to her, moving her hand away from her stomach, seeing the blood dripping off her hand and spreading over her tunic. She winced when he helped her to stand. His eyes checked over her for any other wounds before they met hers.
"Are you alright?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice. "What happened?" Laurel glanced over to where Aragorn was asking the same thing of Boromir.
"This woman has no place among us," the man growled as he glanced back at her. "She can't defend herself whatsoever. Let this serve as a very real warning for what is to come if she still insists on joining this fellowship."
"That is not for you to decide," Aragorn scolded, a severe frown marring his features. "You do not have the right to injure her under the pretense of training. She will be going on this expedition, whether you prefer it or not, and the last thing we need is her injuries to slow us down even more." Boromir's face fell slightly, realizing that he may have gone a little too far this time. He had been fine when they started, but seeing how weakly she would block his strikes and lack of form angered him greatly. He could not fathom why she would be joining them and she would do nothing but slow them down and get herself killed.
"My apologies, Lady Laurel," he sighed. "I took our training too far, I realize. It shall not happen again." Laurel watched him, his apology not seeming to reach his eyes and made her doubt his sincerity.
"It's alright," she grunted, pressing her hand to her stomach. She did not enjoy the wet, sticky feeling of the blood-covered tunic on her skin.
"No it most certainly is not," Legolas nearly growled. He cast a lethal glare at the man responsible for her pain. A painful groan from Laurel drew his attention back to her and prevented him from doing or saying anything that he might've regretted later.
"Let's get you to the healing halls," he said softly. Laurel nodded to him, taking a step forward. She let out a small cry when she felt the painful tug at the wound when she tried to walk. Swinging her leg forward made it feel like the cut was being torn open further. She clenched her eyes shut tightly as she waited for the sharp sting to subside back into the less painful throbbing. Legolas picked up on her inability to walk.
"May I carry you?" he asked quietly, eyes searching hers. Laurel mulled the offer over for a moment. She didn't want to get her blood all over him, or feel like a damsel in distress, even though she technically was. But, if she declined his offer, then she would have to walk, and the thought nearly made her queasy. With a small sigh she met his eyes, nodding her head. Legolas' arms snaked around her back and beneath her knees, hoisting her into the air. A sharp stab of pain spread from the wound, causing her to yelp.
"It's alright," he soothed with comforting eyes. "I've got you." Laurel rested her head against his shoulder as he started to walk and brought her arms to wrap around his neck for support. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth through the pain. After a minute or two she heard the voices of servants and the sound of shoes against the floor. She heard a large door being opened and Legolas thanking whoever it was that held it open for them. She opened her eyes with a grunt as she felt herself being lowered onto a bed in the healing hall. There were many beds like the one she was on lining the length of the room and soft light filtered in through the high windows above her head. Soon a brown-haired elf appeared by their side and seemed to take over the situation. He examined her cut through the gaping hole in her tunic.
"This will need stitching," he said, no hint of emotion in his voice. Yes, Laurel had definitely misjudged how deep the wound was. The elf called for a few assistants and gathered a bunch of supplies before returning to her bed. "Your highness, I'm afraid I must insist on privacy for the procedure. One of my healers will alert you when she is ready for visitors." Laurel felt her heart rate pick up. She didn't want to be alone right now in the healing halls and so she reached out for Legolas' hand once he started to leave. She also made a mental not to ask him about the 'your highness' thing. He gave her a comforting look and squeezed her hand gently.
"It's going to be fine, I will be waiting just outside the hall. Nostadnir is an excellent healer and you are in very capable hands," he spoke softly. Laurel felt his hand slip from hers as he turned, walking back though the large doors that let out into the corridor. She redirected her attention to the healing staff and complied without fuss when they asked her to remove her tunic, which was a very painful maneuver for her. They cleaned the wound with some strong-smelling liquid that burned like raging fire across her skin, and then lathered on some sort of salve that was supposed to numb the area. She didn't know if Legolas had lied to her about the healer, Nost- ... something, but she knew for sure that the numbing salve definitely did not work. She let out a pained shriek when they pierced her skin with the needle. The healing assistants had to hold her arms and legs down to prevent her from moving, which only made her struggle more.
"Go fetch me the bottle of sedative on the third shelf, now!" the head healer commanded to one of his nurses. She scurried back over a minute later with a dark blue vial and handed it over to Nostadnir. He brought the vial to her lips and insisted she drink the contents, but Laurel had absolutely had it with these healers. She was in more pain than she had ever experienced in her life and they were only making it worse!
"No!" she struggled against the nurses holding her limbs down. "I don't want any of whatever that is!" The head healer sighed and set the bottle down, informing his team that he would resume stitching the wound since she had refused the sedative. Laurel's screams could be heard from the hallway and Legolas winced as he waited. Every scream she let out tore through his body and he hated that he had left her in there. Elven medicine was renowned for its ability to relieve pain and minimize suffering to the patients, but that was not what this sounded like to him. What were they doing to Laurel that inflicted so much pain? He heard quick and heavy footsteps coming around the corner and Glorfindel's towering form appeared before him in seconds.
"Where is she!?" he bellowed. Laurel let out another piercing shriek and Glorfindel pushed passed him, storming into the room. Legolas dared not follow and instead listened to the commotion through the crack in the doorway.
"My lord, Glorfindel!" the healer greeted in surprise.
"What has happened Nostadnir?" He pushed the healing assistants out of the way so he could kneel next to Laurel. He brushed the sweat-soaked strands of hair away from her face as he waited for the healer's answer.
"We are nearly done stitching a wound she received, although the numbing salve did not appear to work properly and she refused the sedative tincture." Glorfindel studied her face, brushing her hair back. Her face was contorted in pain and her eyes screwed shut. He held her left hand in his and gave it a soft squeeze for comfort.
"In all my years I have never known you to produce a faulty salve, Nostadnir. How hard is it really to make?" he growled. Nostadnir looked highly offended by his words.
"I assure you that every salve, tincture and medication is produced with the utmost attention to detail," he defended.
"Then why is she in so much pain?" Glorfindel ground out behind gritted teeth.
"Perhaps the sedative will ease the pain, but she has refused it." Glorfindel turned back to Laurel, squeezing her hand lightly.
"Tithes lissuin, will you drink the sedative? It will help with the pain," he spoke softly. Laurel slowly opened her eyes and studied the blond elf in front of her. Her eyebrows where knitted together in pain and indecision before she reluctantly nodded. Nostadnir handed Glorfindel the vial and he brought it to her lips, allowing her to drink the dark liquid. However, as soon as Glorfindel replaced the bottle's stopper, Laurel heaved all of it back up onto the floor. Now her stomach ached from both the inside and the outside. This was quickly turning into the worst day ever, she thought. She heard Glorfindel speaking to her, but he sounded as if he were underwater. Her eyelids felt heavy and she could no longer fight to keep them open. Eventually all sights and sounds drained away and everything faded to black.