Chapter Sixteen - Far Beneath the Bitter Snow (Part One)
* This chapter has not been beta read. Please excuse the roughness.
** Thank you to all those who have stuck with me for so long. I know how frustrating it is to wait for so long for updates. Please note there is no fixed timeline for next chapter yet.
*** Thank you to Fran, for whom without this story would never have gotten this far.
**** I am no soldier. I'm not a doctor or nurse. Any mistakes regarding warfare and medicine come from lack of knowledge. I am not nearly conceited enough to think I'll get either right without expert advice of which I do not have. I apologise for any mistakes.
***** I found Legolas' reaction to getting hurt in the Hobbit amusing, but the idea someone suggested of him never being hurt before is preposterous. I rather choose to think his reaction to being hurt is driven by arrogance and rage.
****** 200 kudos on AO3! Huzzah! Almost the same followers on fanfic! Thank you all so much!
Dramatis Personæ
Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion, Sindar's horse
Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain
Baradon/Sculls – Male, Ranger
Bregol/Web - Male, Ranger
Briel - Female, Dunedain child
Camaenor/Vice - Male, Master of Arms
Cordoves/Swan – Female, ranger
Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal & Apothecary
Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master
Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores
Gell - Male, Commander Rangers of the Wild
Gueniel – Female, Midwife
Laeron/Wren – Male, Ranger
Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables
Mereniel- Female, ranger
Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping
Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen
Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male, undisclosed Prince of the Woodland Realm
Tauriel - Sylvan Female, Captain of the Woodland Guard
Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command
Dawn's first light had yet to lighten the sky. Winter's bitter freeze held the world captive, and all the creatures held their breath for the returning of a warming sun.
Within the walls of Carthal it was not the sun folk waited, but a miracle.
Silent and confident of the solitude behind a chook pen, Eryndes pulled off her worn cloak.
Gripping her petite knife, a gift from Sindar, she took a defensive stance. Imagining her attacker launching an attack overhead she reacted, darting to the side and strike hard and fast into his torso.
This time she imagined the attackers coming from behind and darted, spinning surely on her toes to strike-
"You may never make a ranger but you are improving."
Gasping, Eryndes' eyes darted around and saw Gell coming out of the shadows.
"Practicing," he continued to approach her, "for our last stand?"
Going back into ready position, Eryndes answered him, "If it comes down to that I will not wait for them. They will take my life at a cost."
Her invisible enemy tried to grapple her throat. Dodging, she struck hard into its chest.
"Aye, good. But if I may?"
Eryndes tensed when he started forward. "Thank you but Sindar taught me-"
"Peace, I know. And you've much improved since his departure," Gell eased close, and Eryndes sighed, "but first thing Sindar would point out if he were here is your feet are too much in line. They must be staggered or you may lose balance."
Eryndes looked to her feet. They were in line. "He did tell me that," she conceded. For weeks she'd practiced. Whenever situation or spirit lowered Eryndes took out her little knife and practiced. It was more than something to do. More than fighting to her last with honour.
It was a piece of Sindar he'd left behind.
Truth was it took the pain of heartbreak and grief for her to take the study seriously.
Fixing her feet, she tried again.
"Yes, you've got it," Gell praised.
"Thank you."
"Eryndes."
Lifting her head, she waited.
"I know Sindar's departure caused you great sorrow-," he held up a hand when she started to object, "All see it. And why shouldn't you? You were close as any friends."
Eryndes turned away to hide her face. "Yes."
"I also know your heart grieves more for more than friendship."
She whipped back to face him. So many of the folk said the same since Sindar's departure. Boasting all saw she'd fallen for the elf, their commiserations tainted by censure for her foolishness, then offering unwelcome advice for whom her attentions were better given. "That is none of your business."
"But it is," he held her stare, his open and friendly features patient. "I am no fool. I'm aware of the designs you and your brother towards me."
Eryndes' face grew hot. "Gell, I-"
"Don't," he soothed, "While I can't say my ego isn't bruised being it wasn't my charm but safety and security you sought from me, I do understand. And would've been honoured to accept the proposal-"
"Would have?" she breathed.
Gell chuckled, "I ask you, what sort of a man agrees to marry a woman who loves another? You needn't worry however. We're all Dunedain. If today or tomorrow is indeed the end, you will find me fighting to the last breath just as much as I was to be Carthal's next master."
When he moved away, she squeezed her eyes shut then with a sigh called out to him, "Gell?"
He looked back at her.
"I am sorry." She was. And for so much. Every turn, every choice, every day, there was more to be sorry for.
"I accept your apology but know I only speak now as sometimes these things need to be said; clear the air and all that. Do not worry, I am not injured." His smile dropped, "Best resume your practice for I fear you may need it sooner than later."
Watching him disappear back into the pre-dawn blackness, Eryndes breathed in the sharp frozen air deeply. Holding onto the coldness spreading through her, she took up a defensive stance and resumed her practice.
A little while later her scuffed boots walked with purpose across frozen ground. The burning fires lit up the ice fallen from the night freeze. Mute conversations spoke of the coming day, heads down, shoulders sunk. Men and women huddled by fires, nursing bowls of quickly cooling porridge, their weapons slung to their backs or at their sides, but never further than an easy reach.
Nearby steel struck steel, and rock, and wood; the urgent repairs to building, wall, weapons and defenses ongoing through day and night. Endless.
In the distance a foul odor tainted the still air, mixing with the tang of burning; orcs, filth and oils.
And despair.
Eryndes stopped beside a group of rangers, "Mereniel?"
Mereniel didn't face her.
"Mereniel," she implored, "You cannot be here."
The woman keep her eyes on her companions but answered, "I'd rather be here than tearing bandages, feeding soup to children."
"But you are-"
"Pregnant, not crippled."
Eryndes knelt down beside her and finally Mereniel looked at her, "You cannot expect to fight-."
Mereniel stood abruptly, her belly sticking out through the layers of armor. "I stand with the rangers. And if the time comes they are called over the wall, I will remain here to ensure their home remains safe and awaiting their return."
A hand landed on Mereniel's shoulders. Cordoves. "Well said." Cordoves waited for Eryndes to disapprove.
Eryndes stared at the two woman, both never having truly got along, forever arguing. Yet here they stood; one a budding lieutenant ready to lead her rangers into battle, and the other, pregnant, standing fast to safeguard the wall.
Throat thickening, Eryndes held out her hand, "Eru keep you."
Mereniel took her hand first, then Cordoves.
There was no need for further words and Eryndes walked on.
With dawn now upon them so too grew the noise of three thousand orcs readying to begin again.
Mereniel and Cordoves knew, as did Eryndes. Unless something changed, immediately . . .
Taking the stone steps up the perimeter wall, Eryndes nodded gravely to each of the rangers as she passed. At the top Urion and Joust stood together with Faron peering closer over the side. The merlons were a touch shorter than Faron who bent slightly to remain behind cover.
"Eryndes," Urion nodded as she joined them.
"Any change?" she asked as she'd done every morning since it began. Carefully see looked out over the darkened land that once had been a forest leading up to Carthal's gate. With predawn light she could clearly see them.
"Careful," Faron tugged at her arm, "All ya'd need is a fair shot and-" his hands imitated the action of an arrow going through her head.
Eryndes forced down the urge to shutter.
"Yes, thank you Faron," Urion admonished. "No change, except the number of casualties. On both sides. We're suffering-"
"She knows that," Faron jumped in, "since she's the one with the ready hacksaw and thread-"
"My point is," Urion's tone turned commanding, stopping Faron from injecting again, "they're cutting our numbers and fortifications but at great cost. We estimate their losses at forty percent. Which may not sound a lot but that is over twelve hundred orcs, not including all their machinery and beasts. This siege has cost them greatly."
Eryndes heard his words but there was something he was not saying, "Cost them greatly yet show no sign of capitulating." She searched the faces of the others, Baradon, Laeron, and Joust just over the way talking silently with Gell, then back to Urion and Faron. "Then we do face our doom?"
Urion hesitated-
"Aye," Joust spoke up, coming over to stand beside her, "but we're not there yet."
She eyed him, "But they will breach the wall?"
"For the moment they're content on picking us off a handful a day and barricading our escape-"
"But yes," Faron cut in, tone morbid, "eventually, they will breach."
Joust shot Faron a warning, then took her arm, "Please, will you come away. Seeing you so close to the sights of their crossbows is making me nervous."
Eryndes held her ground, "Bear?"
Urion nodded, "If there's any change, I'll send a runner."
'Why?' she held back her tongue. What difference would knowing make?
"If they make it passed your rangers, know we will fight, down to the last arrow and dagger," she tried to sound brave. She knew she failed.
Urion inclined his head, "May the blood of Numenor survive another day."
Leaving Joust at the bottom of the wall's stone steps, Eryndes wandered. There were plenty of wounded she could aid in attending, children and elderly to check on . . .
Instead she wandered. Around the corner of the stables, the burnt down hayshed, around to the pear trees and out to her gardens behind the manor.
Once there she let out her breath. Holding tightly against weeping, Eryndes began to hum her mother's lullaby:
"Somewhere over the rainbow,
way up high,
there's a land that I heard of,
once in a lullaby,
someday I'll wish upon a star,
and wake up where the clouds are far behind me,
where troubles melt like lemon drops-"
-her throat caught. Breathing in hard and deep, she swallowed, and breathed again. Too late. She felt the rolling tears fall down her cheek and rushed it away with the back of her hand.
Another tear fell. Then another. Turning away from the world, she descended into sobs, she held herself shaking uncontrollably.
When her pent up grief was spent, she wiped her face, her breath hiccupping. Looking up at the falling moon, Eryndes whispered her heart's cry to the heavens, "Oh Sindar, please, please be safe."
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Tauriel paced, her small feet leaving only the vaguest impression in the snow.
"(It isn't time)," he soothed.
Her eyes flitted to him then back to the ground having not paused in her strides. "(They are in desperate need)."
"(They are)," he agreed, then reached out and stopped her, "(yet still standing. Carthal stands, as do the Dunedain. We have come in time)."
Tauriel held up a pinched forefinger, "(They're so close. I smell them)!" She paced again.
One corner of his mouth upturned, "(They'll know your blades soon enough)."
She stopped, "(How can you be so calm? Your friends, the one your heart desires-)"
"(Calm is vital)," he flicked flakes of snow from hair and face. It was fortunate the snow was not heavy enough to hamper visibility. For the moment at least. Legolas had worried much on their hasty and arduous journey to the far north. A possible snow storm was just another to the list.
But as a commander amongst his soldiers he wouldn't give into his fears. Even in Tauriel's company.
They were headed into battle. To glorious victory or slaughter it was incumbent for a commander to be focused, his fears and anxieties quietened beyond sight.
No matter how sickened his stomach.
Carthal lay down there. The forest bordering the road had been decimated. under siege. The wall had sustained much damage. Smoke rose from different points within the compound. None Legolas has been glad to point out were significant; sheds and farming equipment.
But what of the people? Not even Legolas' fabled sight could see who lived and who had died.
The sickness rose -
"(Don't you just want to -)?" her hands made her meaning where her words failed, gripping an invisible enemy and tearing it apart.
"(Indeed. But we must wait. At the right moment the orc's will know my wrath but for the rangers to be any help to us, they must be prepared. We cannot signal them in the darkness without alerting the enemy to our presence. Surprise is key)."
Even before he'd finished speaking, Tauriel was nodding while maintaining her four step then turn pattern. "(I know, I know. I just . . .)"
Again she nodded, "(Your strategy is solid and we're prepared. We're ready. It's the waiting)."
Legolas snorted then took a long draft of near frozen water from his canteen, "(I'm so glad to have your faith. And your sanction)."
Tauriel's pacing came to a halt and she gracefully sat adjacent to him one the frozen ground. "(Your father only wanted me to stop you from charging into the enemy's ranks in futile revenge if Carthal was sacked. I know you know that)."
He tossed the canteen into her lap.
"(He does not question your tactics or your heart)," Tauriel pulled out the cork and took a small mouthful, "(It is his own actions he fears; he did allow this venture. If we all come to fall, he could not go on)."
Standing, Legolas walked over to Aglarebon. His long white ears pricked to every sound, his large eyes wide and alert. Brushing his fingers through Aglarebon's mane, he tried to put his young friend at ease. To Tauriel, he sighed, "(There's a contradiction is your reasoning)."
"(Love defies reasoning, logic; a contradiction yes, yet we as elves hold so reverently. Is there anything we hold dearer? What would your father not do to protect you, the one he loves most? Would he not raze all of Ardor to dust for you)?"
Silently, he stroked Aglarebon's neck-
"(Would you not do the same to protect her)?"
His fingers slowed through the glorious white hair and he looked over his shoulder at her. She stared back.
"(My lord Sindar?)" a trooper called softly, making use of Legolas' alias, "(The sun rises)."
A quick glance at the horizon confirmed it.
"(Ready the signal)," he commanded as Tauriel shot her feet.
Tauriel brushed the ground from her posterior as she headed towards her own horse, "(Now we'll see if the rangers are as observant as their fame suggests)."
Climbing into Aglarebon's saddle, he wordlessly ordered those behind him to do the same. "(If that happens, you know what to do)."
"(As you order)," Tauriel smiled, "(lord Sindar)."
Legolas returned her smile, a warmth of affection pooling in his chest, "(Whatever my father's intentions, whatever the outcome, I'm glad you're here)."
Her head ducked sheepishly-
"(My lord-!)"
"(Send the signal!)" he ordered.
Upon his order the signal was sent just as the sun peeked over the horizon and hitting Carthal, basking the fortress in the day's first light.
"(No noise!)" Tauriel shot behind them unnecessarily. The elves were well informed and trained.
"(Focus)," Legolas muttered down at Aglarebon who shifted beneath him.
"(My lord!)" someone whispered urgently-
From Carthal's main gate a single banner swept along the wall. Like a creature crawling from one end of the wall to the other, silent, it's meaning unbeknownst.
Unknown, except to those Carthal called their allies.
"(They've seen us! They've seen the signal!)"
Legolas nodded to Tauriel's excited gush. "(Wait)."
And for many more minutes they did. Torturous minutes. More of the horses shifted, fussing quietly.
"(Keep them quiet)." Legolas held Aglarebon's reins steady with one hand, the other on his neck. Soothing, he stroked his neck again. Any minute now-
A long, low sounding horn filled the valley, joined by hundreds of arrows, loosened from far behind the wall. Burning bolts shot out too, aimed for the enemy encampment. The orcs were quick to their feet, taking up their weapons and roaring in bloodlust-
Tauriel looked at him and with an incline of his head, he tapped Aglarebon's flank. Beside him Tauriel kept pace, and behind them dozens of the elven elite charged, their horses pushing into a dead charge.
Charging headlong towards the enemy.
The orcs were facing the wrong way. The Dunedain rangers' attack, arrows, burning debris and bolts, and the blaring horns taking all their attention.
The orcs did not expect the attack to come from behind.
Nearing the first of the orcs caught unawares, Legolas let go of the reins and drew his knives. Beside him Tauriel did the same.
The first couple orcs turned to the sound of hooves, then roared in alarm, drawing attention of those around them-
Then fell as fifty arrows cut them down. Then another fifty arrows, and another, falling mere metres ahead of Aglarebon's nose. From the hill far behind, fifty elven archers aimed and loose, their accuracy clearing a path for their prince and company, their courage and skill allowing them to do so without danger.
Aglarebon and the other horses flew straight over the fallen orcs, their tall legs pounding hard and fast. Ahead of them the Dunedain continued to keep the orcs busy, while a number of their archers helped clearing the path from their side.
Nearing the middle of the orc flank stood a handful luckily enough to been missed by Dunedain arrows and out of reach of the Woodland archers. Legolas cut through four in front of him without slowing their charge. Tauriel cut down five, her ruthless blades singing their deadly song as she screamed her battle cry.
It did not take long and suddenly their path was clear. Orcs scampered to the sides, running out of the way of their onslaught.
Coming to the other side, Legolas turned Aglarebon with the others following him and pulled up in front of the battered stone gate. Behind them the Carthal stronghold stood and in front the enemy regrouped; there were still too many for Legolas as his hundred elves on horseback.
The remaining fifty elves continued firing into the enemy from the hill, trapping and stopping any flanking by the orcs.
Legolas looked around them; regardless of the arrows flying from the hill and Carthal's bombardment, they were cut off. The element of surprise was no longer on their side. Solid wall behind them, regrouping enemy surrounding them. The orcs held their weapons high-
"(My lord)?" Tauriel panted beside him, "(Will they- They won't abandon us-)?"
Her question was cut off by the screech of metal against metal, hinges moving an impossible weight of a battle reinforced stone gate.
From behind the gate a horn bellowed, short, sharp, and Legolas smirked at Tauriel. Under the sound of the horn and roaring through the gate charged the Dunedain. Rank upon rank of rangers on horseback, hundreds of battle cries adding to the noise of the morning.
Raising his knife already blackened with death, he threw his fist forward and called the elves to join the humans. Overhead the sky continued to roar in flam with Carthal's arrows, bolts, and fire-lit oil.
Orcs scattered, or they turned and faced down the ranger-elven charge.
Sheathing his knives, Legolas knocked his bow and felled four before the elven-human charge clashed against the orc line in unison. Howls joined the sound of battle as orcs fell, under hoof, blade, arrow or fire; they lost cohesion and panicked. As many fell, behind many more lay in wait.
Stowing his bow, he pulled out his knives again, urging Aglarebon for another charge through the orc ranks-
Abruptly Legolas' senses flare. Too late. Aglarebon wrenched, his mighty head snapping to the side. He leaped, stomped. Kicking, crying in pain; Aglarebon's young mind was lost.
"Aglarebon!" he tried to coax him still-
Instead Aglarebon reared and then stumbled, tumbling, tossing him and his master to the ground.
Fearing being caught under, Legolas let go and pushed himself clear.
Rolling over away from an orc strike, he chanced a glance at Aglarebon, who was surging back to his hooves and striding for all his worth back to him.
Legolas tensed. An arrow pierced the back of his neck. Red blood seeping down his stark white neck-
Thrashing his knife, Legolas pointed to the manor, "(Go! Flee to the manor, you fool! Go!)" Darting sideways, Legolas sliced his blades simultaneously through an orc's neck, "(Go! I command you!)"
Aglarebon kicked and stomped but then turned and shot away. Legolas watching him go, a cold shiver trembling in his spine. Would he see him again?
On foot he took in his surrounding. There were rangers horseless fighting nearby and blades ready, he started in that direction, fighting and killing as efficiently as he could. Around him, rangers and elves still charged, the sky was filled with arrows and flying weapons, cries and roars. The stench of blood coated all. Leaping and running, Legolas slew all in his path.
Then there were too many.
A group of orcs surrounded him, weapons aimed at him. They charged, Legolas charged too, his knives deflecting and piercing at will-
A horse, rider less, wounded, charging through man, elf, horse and orc alike. It came in their direction. Diving out of the way, Legolas rolled to his feet, crouching low away from the flurry of hooves and orcs-
Without warning Legolas flew forward and thrown to the ground. Searing pain shot through his back and he hissed, shaking his head and trying to gain his feet. Another pain shot through his hand. Looking down he found two fingers dislocated. His landing on the hard metal?
With danger all around, there could be no hesitation-
He gasped in pain with the double crack of his bones realigning.
Again he fell forward, this time shoved back down into the freezing blood and grime, his face grating on the sheared metal. Burning pain tore through his back.
An orc roared down at him. He felt the pressure of a foot on his neck. He could hear the swinging of an axe-
Pinned, Legolas could only wait for death. Holding his eyes open, his muscles taut straining against the hold on him. He would meet his death as a warrior, fighting till his last breath.
It didn't come. The axe never found his neck. The weight lifted from his back. Something grabbed his arm.
Using the momentum, he came up swinging, into the face of Faron.
"It's me, you ass," Faron shouted at him, shaking his head of the blow he'd given him. "You sure took your time comin' back! Come on. Gell's company and your elves have pushed them back as far as the main road; the enemy's startin' to retreat. But stragglers are takin' out anything they can. A group of them tryin' to climb the wall."
Getting his feet under him, with Faron's supporting arm, he bent to retrieve his knives-
And stopped with a howl of pain.
Faron grabbed him and righted him swearing foully. "Orc's torn a hole in your back! We've got to get you back behind the wall-"
"No," he pushed away the supporting arm, "To the wall. We cannot allow them to get inside."
Faron retrieved his knives, "You can't even bend-"
Legolas took them from him, "I can kill without bending. Come!"
Running was painful, agony, but he pushed on determined not to allow a single orc inside the compound. Just one was all it took to kill, burn, destroy. Beyond that wall hid a community. Good folk, old and very young.
The thought of them coming to harm . . .
Every stride through the cluttered battlefield hurt, every leap sent shooting pain through his whole body. A couple times Faron stopped him from stumbling. To Faron's credit he didn't make any more suggestions to seek safety.
Finally they found the orcs, there was around fifty of them, climbing the stones of the wall. Behind the wall was nothing but smoke. Whatever defenses once held ground there were no more. A few more seconds and the first two orcs would clear the wall.
Slinging his bow around, he used his good hand to pull an arrow from his quiver, and drew back-
Burning pain shrieked from his lips and the arrow shot out but a few metres as he fell to his knees.
"You're back is torn open!" Faron barked from his side. "You cannot fight!"
Legolas looked back up at the wall and orcs so close to the top. He thrusted his bow to Faron, "Do not miss!"
Without hesitation Faron took his bow, and plucked arrows from his quiver. Drawing back, the man shot two arrows in quick succession. They both hit their mark, the two top orcs hitting the ground with a thud.
"Keep going!" Legolas yelled, using his good arm to snatch the rest of his arrows out of the quiver and thrust them to Faron. The lower orcs dropped back down off the wall and made a run for them. They were trying to distract him and Faron enough to allow their fellows to get over the wall.
Faron felled another three, "Sindar-?"
"Keep firing!" Brandishing his knives, Legolas faced the orcs, their numbers growing-
"Sindar!" Came Baradon's voice.
Legolas found him running up from further down the wall, "(Baradon! Shoot! On the wall! On the wall)!"
Baradon stopped running and pulled his bow from his back, and joined Faron-
A few more rangers without orcs to kill followed Baradon, bowless they came to stand with him and protect the bowmen.
"About time you showed up! You finally figured you were missing out on all the fun?"
"Joust?" Legolas felt his friend come to his side.
"Know anyone else who can look this good hacking orcs to pieces?" Swinging his twin short swords, Lobordir took his flank with a handsome smirk. "Good to have you back."
Legolas' lip lifted despite the situation, "And I seeing you safe."
Joust snorted, cleaving through the neck of an orc, "Geez, what in Mandos' name happened to you?"
"No-now-Joust," Legolas growled through his teeth, the pain in his back and down his hand making him sluggish.
"You're wounded. Get out of here," Joust implored, "There's only a few let. We've got this-"
Joust's words stopped-
Killing another orc, Legolas spun around in time to see his friend fall the ground.
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Her bottom lip quivering beyond control, Eryndes reached over and closed his eyes. She swallowed, silent tears fell aplenty, pooling underneath her chin and dripping to the ground. "Oh, Joust," she breathed, her fingers trailing down his cheek.
Pulling her hand back, she turned away.
It was too much. So many dead and now Joust. Rising to her feet, she stepped back. "Take him," she didn't even try to hide her grief.
There were too many, just too many.
As the men urged the horses forward, she watched her life-long friend being taken away with the others on a muddy and blood stained cart.
In a moment she must return to her duty. With Aragorn gone, Joust slain, Amben and Geledir badly wounded, there were fewer and fewer heads of Carthal left.
But for that moment, she watched Joust go. Swallowing against a sob, she took a deep breath and watched the horses pull the cart, a farm cart, through Carthal's gate and out of sight.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she said a silent goodbye, then turned. Camaenor stood there, his own grief hidden behind his gruff exterior. He placed a hand on her shoulder.
In this time of war, that was as much comfort as anyone could expect. But from Camaenor is was as good as an embrace.
His hand left her shoulder and straightened up pointedly.
Eryndes nodded with her eyes and pushed herself to full height, her face once more a mask.
"Eryndes of the Dunedain," Camaenor said loudly, "My honour it is to introduce you to the elves of Thranduil, here in aid. This is their captain, Tauriel of Lasgalen."
Eryndes' mask twitched, not 'Sindar'? "Lady Tauriel, I bid you welcome to Carthal," she lowered her head, "I also humbly thank you and your king for your timely arrival. Carthal may have been in ruin by nightfall had not for your actions today."
Tauriel was the most beautiful female Eryndes had ever seen. Her hair was like fire, long down past her knees. Perky pink cheeks, wide mouth and the loveliest eyes there could ever be.
She wasn't even dirty.
Tauriel inclined her exquisite head, "Mistress. Thank you for your compliments. I formally ask my company and I to reside peacefully within your walls and know your hospitality?"
All this formality turned Eryndes' stomach. After everything, after all the bloodshed and losses . . . Joust dead and Sindar missing? "We are honoured to have you as our guests. All we have is yours. Please, bid your company come inside and be as in home."
Tauriel gave a single stiff nod, then addressed her company standing in perfect formation just outside the gate, "(Enter and be welcome)."
Eryndes searched the faces of those marching in eerie sync through the gates and coming to ease just inside, but there was no sign of Sindar.
"May I offer the services of our healers to aid the wounded?"
Eryndes tore her eyes from the fair faces of the elven, "I-We would be most grateful."
Camaenor stepped forward, "Now that's out of the way, captain, will you accompany me to the war-room. Our lieutenants will see your people are situated."
Tauriel ordered her troops to see to the horses and set up camp, then walked with Camaenor towards the manor. Eryndes watched her go. It was by her hand that the orcs had been driving off that morning. Hard to imagine there existed such a creature in the world, and let alone be as formidable warrior as the likes of Sindar.
But what of Sindar? He had been in the battle; she'd seen him. He rode in, bursting his way through the orcs to stand between them and the Dunedain.
Had he already left again for the south, now his task had been accomplished?
Tears threatening again, she stopped watching the elves moving about, the emptiness of the world draining all the life out of her, and moved away.
Gueniel, as weary as they all were, came from the direction of the great hall which had been converted into a hospital for the wounded. Blood covered her hands and the rag she was using to wipe them dry.
With a nod, Eryndes went to meet her; wartime duty awaited her. Cleaning and stitching wounds, administering pain-easing tonics, numbing agents, sawing off un-savable limbs-
Her knees went weak.
Her breath froze in her chest.
Her heart burst into thousand pieces.
Without announcement, with no beam of light or trumpets, there he was; tall and real.
Around her the world around grew into a foggy dream.
There he stood speaking with Faron. Standing there as if he'd never left. Standing there as if nothing had happened. As if he'd not snuffed all life from her world.
The heavens hadn't sung of his return. He was simply there.
There and wearing grand armor of an elf of high station; elaborate, decorative, spanning across the impressive breadth of his shoulders, blackened with splashes of orc blood. Bow and blades stuck out from the quiver pack on his back, stored yet within quick reach. The ends of his hair stuck together with filth and blood. His trousers and boots, his face and hands-
He was filthy.
He was beautiful. Deadly. An angel of death. Sindar, lord and warrior, hero to the Dunedain. Her love.
Blinkless silver eyes shifted and landed upon her. He stared at her and Eryndes found it impossible to breathe.
There was no warmth in his regard, only cold eyes of steel.
His head lowered.
Sucking in air, she hastened a bow, feeling blood rushing to her face.
But then he left, Urion by his side, Faron and Gell trailing behind. She watched him go, seeing only his head over the top of the crowd.
"Eryndes?"
Eryndes held out her hand. At once Gueniel's warm hands encompassed hers. "Oh, Eru have mercy," she wept-
"Come," Gueniel tugged her along, pulling her back inside and away from any curious onlookers. There she surrendered to her heart breaking all over again.
.
0000
.
The battle was done and Joust was dead. Legolas remained at his side, walking beside the cart carrying the fallen Dunedain back home.
One moment he was smart-tongued, cocky . . . then silent. Forever silent.
On the cart, Lobordir's proud handsome face stared up at the sky. Another honourable soul lost to the world.
Another friend Legolas outlived.
He didn't look away from the glass of Joust's faded blue eyes, no matter how it pained him. He owed him better. His sacrifice must be honoured. He must be remembered.
Blinking, the pain behind his eyes too much, Legolas couldn't bare it any longer and slowed his steps. The cart carrying the dead moved ahead and he let it.
Taking a long deep breath, he surveyed. Men and elves helped the wounded, while others collected arms and piled the dead orcs. Blazes had already begun to fill the midmorning air with vile stench. Crows circled overhead amongst the newly falling snow, eager to begin the promised feast.
The Dunedain were safe but their faces solemn. Many lives paid for their victory.
Legolas' wandering eyes met with many faces, both familiar and not so. Their shoulders lifted at the connection. They acknowledged 'Sindar' with smiles and nods, waves and spoken gratitude.
They'd won. Yet they were in grief.
The main gate finally came into view around the torn ground and ruined forest of field of battle and that was when he saw her. She was ragged, exhaustion weighing down her limbs, draining the life from her eyes. Her feet trembling along the frozen ground, dried sweat trails leaving clear lines down her dirty face. Tear filled eyes were locked on the cart. And her childhood friend, ex-suitor, now joining the rest of her blood family in death.
Her unbroken gaze on Joust suggested she had yet to see Legolas.
Slowing his steps further, he allowed her to accompany the cart through the gates undisturbed.
Finding her alive and no permanent worse for wear took away a sickening fear from his heart.
. . . but he would not approach. He couldn't.
What words could be spoken? Here? Now?
There were a lot of people around. And elves. And Carthal's defenses weakened and so many wounded-
Including himself-
"(Aglarebon is pained but in no danger)," Tauriel reported from his side, oblivious to the inner battle waging in his head, "(He's already been taken to the Dunedain stable to be tended)."
"(Good news)," Legolas was gladdened. His eyes tracked back-
"(Has a healer seen to you?)"
Legolas' sigh sounded more a growl.
Tauriel matched his glare, "(Perhaps your father should've insisted you swear to safeguard yourself as well as your soldiers-)"
"(There is time hence for healers)." Having need of healers was wounded pride enough.
She shook her head, then went on, "(It is as we believed; it was Aragorn riding south weeks past. Your father's spy network again proves its value)."
"(Have you uncovered the motivation?)"
Tauriel shook her head before he'd finished. "The Dunedain don't know. All they do know is the messenger came swiftly with a summons from Mithrandir-)"
"(Mithrandir)?" he stopped.
"That is what they said. And Aragorn left with the messenger no more than an hour later."
What was Gandalf up to? And to be so urgent Aragorn would leave his people? Knowing Angmar's army laid in wait somewhere nearby?
"(What do you think it was)?"
Legolas' head dropped, the weight of questions, grief and heartache, with the additional agony of his injuries-
Tauriel edged closer to his side, "(Questions for another moment perhaps. Let's go, your soldiers await you-)"
He stopped to face her, "(Nay. You will request entrance-)"
"(But-)"
"(I am guest here and need no invitation)," he cut her off with a murmur, "(and wish to remain without fuss. You will act on my behalf)."
"(As you wish, my lord Sindar)," Tauriel inclined her head but not without a taste of her feeling upon her face. But Tauriel went to join their elven brethren without further word and Legolas merged with friends and fellows of the Dunedain to cross under the gate.
On the other side stood Carthal manor as he remembered it, yet the compound was changed. The frozen grass was churned up and brown with icy mud. Splintered wood and weapons lay the everywhere. Carts and farming devices smoked from charred remains, one of the hay sheds was no more, burnt down to the ground. So too were many of the trees nearest to the great wall.
Thankfully the manor seemed to have suffered little damage. The great fortress of the north had shrugged off yet another siege.
"Sindar!"
With relief Legolas took the shoulder of a friend, face drawn, dirty and with a few more wrinkles. "Urion, my friend."
Urion gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Who knew this morning was to bring elves to our rescue? My dear Sindar, I congratulate your timing. Another day and nothing would've saved us."
He nodded, "I lament my arrival was not sooner."
"You should be inside, Dandelion. The healers need to stitch your pretty petals back together."
Legolas threw a glare at Faron coming to stand with them, "I am fine for a time longer."
Urion started to peer around his side-
"I said I was fine," Legolas growled, shifting so his injury was out of Urion's sight. "Do we not have more pressing concerns? What is the situation?"
Faron cleared his throat and pointed.
Behind them Tauriel marched up through the main gates to a waiting Eryndes. Taking out her twin knives, she held out them to the side in a show of non-hostility.
"Why can't they just come inside without ceremony?" Faron bit out.
"An army does not encroach on another without invitation, Faron, you know that," Urion explained shortly, "Wars start that way."
They watched muted as elf and woman exchanged necessary words of welcome and peace, and with Eryndes' invitation, one hundred and fifty elves and their horses marched crisply into the compound.
Tauriel sent Legolas a questioning glance before being ushered inside by Camaenor.
"Tell me," Legolas repeated, his eyes watching the Dunedain part ways to allow the elven captain entrance into the manor.
The bulk of Urion leaned a little heavier to one side. "They came five weeks passed. We saw them with plenty of time and gathered all Dunedain behind the walls. We predict most farms have been decimated. Too gone our livestock we couldn't reach in time. Then the orcs began their assault."
"Most of their devices we took out within in the first week," Faron put in, "saving Carthal from the worst of the bombardment. Crude machines and easily broken."
Legolas frowned, "But?"
Faron glanced at Urion, "Did they bring everything they have? I cannot fathom it. If they thought to starve us, they were foolish. It's winter. We have enough to last us months." Faron looked to Urion then back to Legolas, "I fear, we fear, there maybe more to come."
"They did more than blockade us," Urion shifted his weight again to ease an obvious pain, "our losses, well, while not catastrophic . . ."
Legolas' stomach sank, "How many?"
"At last count," a new voice added to their group, "eighty-one dead and twice that wounded."
Steeling himself, Legolas eyed the man. Gell held his stare evenly walking over to join them. The man was covered in remnants of battle but looked strong as ever. "Had your king acted quicker perhaps twenty percent of our rangers wouldn't be lying in frozen graves."
Legolas stiffened-
"Gell," Urion warned. "Sindar has returned and had he not our losses surely by now be one hundred percent."
Surprisingly, Gell nodded, "Yes, of course. Forgive me, Sindar. This loss grieves me greatly."
"As does us all," Urion soothed, "Sindar, amongst the dead I regret Joust joins Uan, Orthellon, Triw and Sirdhem."
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Legolas took the news of his fallen friends as best he could, "(May they know peace in death)."
"Come," Gell coaxed them, "we should go in. I am anxious to plan our vengeance."
"Yes-" Legolas stopped, feeling the tingly sensation of being watched. His eyes flicked to the source-
And was met by bright blue eyes. Tired, yet forever brilliant. They beseeched. Begged.
All he yearned for upon their reunion-
Words failed him. Thoughts failed him.
All he felt was the gaping wound. Not the wound born from an orc's crude scimitar. No deeper, buried in his chest.
Her lips opened-
Whatever her words, he could not allow her to speak.
This was not how he planned their meeting.
He was raw. Exposed.
Lowering his head was all he had the strength to offer.
Stiffly, she returned the acknowledgement.
"(Come)," he swiftly moved off to lead the others towards the manor.
"Should you not be seen by a healer first?" called Faron from behind.
Legolas' fists clenched, "(Later)."
Throwing himself up the stairs and down the main corridor towards the stairs, the distance did nothing. He'd been to his father's kingdom. Even to the ends of the Earth would give no relief.
With everything that had happened that day? What was he to say to change her mind and have her heal the wounds she left in him?
How could even think of such things when so many were dead? How was he thinking of Eryndes when his friend Joust had died by his side not two hours ago?
The pain from his back rose, burned. The battle was done. His body no longer held back the pain to keep him fighting.
Pain fatigued him. Grief and guilt ebbed. His clenched his fists.
Then hissed. He'd forgotten about his damaged hand.
"My lord."
Legolas saw Tauriel up ahead, blocking the top stairs on the next level.
Camaenor stood with her, his friend's face hard, his large beefy bulk made bigger by his muscular arms crossed over his chest. "Sindar," he nodded, then pointed back the way he'd come, "The wounded are being tended in the great hall."
Legolas' eyes narrowed, "I am aware."
"Camaenor's right," Faron brushed passed him to stand with Tauriel and Camaenor, "What would your 'king' say if we didn't patch up his 'lord'?"
Faron's threat was thinly veiled. It was never to be forgotten it had been Faron to save his life out there. Faron was as formidable a warrior as any of the Dunedain's best.
But he still had his own agenda.
Until it was known what that agenda was, Legolas could never trust him.
"We will begin preparations to honour our dead," Urion offered, ushering Gell and himself around Legolas so now they all were blocking the way. "We won't start anything more without you both."
"Both?" Legolas asked, resigned.
Tauriel surrendered the landing and came down the stairs-
"I do not require an escort, captain," Legolas growled.
Tauriel smiled her most dazzling smile at the men, "We will return later."
.
0000
.
"Shall I start dressing?"
Without looking up from tying off the last artery with a ligature, Eryndes nodded, "Please, Bregol. And bring more light. Is it getting dark?"
Bregol walked away, "Nay, just the sun's crept behind clouds." He returned with boiled sheet strips and an extra candle. In the passed few weeks Bregol had become a tremendous help. After his grandfather's fall, he spent a few weeks in isolation. No one knew what had become of him most the time. Then after Sindar left Bregol came to her and unleashed a mountain of his personal woes upon her.
In the end he said he needed a new purpose, a new chapter on his life. The mistress of Carthal couldn't turn anyone away asking for help. Being a boy still, and bright, Eryndes offered him the choice of any trade they had a master for; Bregol chose medicine.
Finishing up closing up the leg, she glanced up at her patient, a young ranger and apprentice to Joust, Glavrol. Far too young to live a life without a foot. But live he would and the Dunedain would see his sacrifice was honoured for the rest of his days.
Perhaps Camaenor could fashion a special saddle to accommodate his disability? It wasn't right for one so young and full of talent with horses shouldn't be able to live on to the fullest.
"Is he rousing?"
"No," she looked up to see Bregol watching her attentions on young Glavrol. She shook her head, "Just . . . far too young to be on this table."
"I can finish with him, if you want to take a minute? Get a little cleaned up? Tea?"
She smiled at him, "Tea sounds wonderful. Thank you, Bregol. I'll bring you a cup too. Watch him-"
"-If he wakes, come get you immediately?"
Wiping her hands, she patted his already blood-stained shoulder, "We'll make a healer of you yet."
Stepping away, she glanced around the great hall. Where there had been tables for eating were now sixty wounded, some not expected to make it to the tomorrow. Most of the worst were kept on high doses to dull their pain and ease their passing.
Of the fourteen healers, nine remained, five of their number were among the dead. The elven healers were in the back room, trying to save the worst. They preferred to work without their Dunedain 'colleagues' in toe.
The old wooden floor was covered in wood chips, and a good deal was covered with blood.
And yet they'd won the day?
If it hadn't been for Sindar, the captain Tauriel and their elves, by this time perhaps the number of wounded and dead would've doubled. Who knows how many more days Carthal could've held.
She was making her way through the labyrinth of tables and benches of wounded, heading to the kitchen-
Sindar.
She froze seeing he and Tauriel walking through the doors into the hall.
Eryndes swallowed hard. Would he walk on by, with no more than the same polite nod he gave before? Cold and without word, but he'd chosen not to see through her. Perhaps in that she should be grateful.
Should she try to escape into the kitchen without his notice?
Impossible. Sindar noticed everything.
And it was his right to treat her as well or as ill as he liked. He'd come back, back with an army of elves, and saved the day.
Gueniel came rushing to her side, "What is 'he' doing in here?"
She swallowed again, "Why shouldn't he?"
"I'll show the buggar out!"
"No," Eryndes took Gueniel's arm, "He and his elves saved us. He's welcome to dance on my grave if it suits him."
Gueniel's face soured even further, "Doesn't mean you have to talk to-" she stopped. "Is he lame?"
Letting go of Gueniel, Eryndes forgot her broken heart, and walked towards them. Gueniel was correct. There was something amiss.
Sindar did not walk properly.
Her steps involuntarily gained speed.
Sindar stopped when she got closer, "Tauriel-"
"My lord Sindar is injured," Tauriel announced boldly, "But you have all my healers hidden away somewhere?"
"You are injured?" Eryndes gasped.
"I have been injured before," he answered gruffly. His first words to her since that day. "It is nothing."
"Where are my healers?" Tauriel demanded from her side.
"In the back room," Eryndes didn't spare her a glance and pointed, her gaze not moving from him. Now she was closer she could see the gashes to his face, and how he held his hand. How he stood . . .
Tauriel left them with a growl.
"Turn around," she whispered.
He stood tall, unmoving. Stoic and regal, betraying all the time spent learning each other. Cold and indifferent, as if none of it ever happened.
"Turn around."
His lips parted slowly, his blinkless wells of silver stared down at her from their high perch. "There is no need. My healers-"
"Turn around!"
Sindar blinked and every able eye in the room turned to them.
She did not back down. Her every muscle shook. "Now."
His mouth opened but didn't speak then closed. Face hard as carved from stone, he did as she commanded.
Eryndes' stomach clenched. Seeing him earlier her feelings had blinded her. It was unforgivable.
Beneath all the dried cake of mud and unnamed grime, and dried blood, a sobering truth was revealed; the armored plating over shoulders saved his life. He'd been slogged hard down his back, the armor was dented deep from a hard blow. The scale feathering was dented too. Where the metal gave way to hardened leather his back then lay open down passed his floating ribs. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound was no scratch. His fine tunic underneath was dark red, so too the edges of his leather jerkin under his armor.
Eryndes took a couple hard breaths. "What-what do you think you were doing walking around like-like this? The battle ended hours ago!"
"You exaggerate. It is not that bad-"
"Are you a healer now?" she snarled, pointing to an unoccupied bench, "Sit."
He stood there, unmoving. "My healers will tend me. There are wounded a plenty to occupy your time-"
"Sit!" she shrilled, her voice bouncing off the great hall walls.
All in the hall fell silent again, watching them with intrigue.
Narrowing silver eyes bore into her, yet Eryndes was too angry, far too angry to show him any compassion or empathy. He could have died!
His neck corded and jaw grinding, she was then surprised when he moved and down on the bench.
Tossing things about the table, Eryndes prepared her tools and supplies. "What were you thinking? Is it your elven pride or simple stupidity?"
"My life is not in danger-"
Tearing viciously into a bandage, she cut him off.
"I am not permanently damaged-"
"That is for a healer to decide!" She tore another strip of fabric. Breathing to calm herself, she pointed, "Take your clothes off."
Sindar started, "(P-pardon)?"
"Take off your clothes." She was too mad to blush. "The top half."
He tried. He managed to even get off one bracer with his undamaged hand but then fumbled with the other.
With an aggravated shake of her head, she took his wrist and began loosening off the straps. Dropping the bracer next to the other on the table, she eyed his armor.
"It is tied," he explained quietly.
She frowned-
"Down my back."
Moving around him, she found the small ties along the small of his back and released them one by one. It was a lengthy task and slowly the figure-firm leather eased away from his body. Moving closer, she gathered his dirty matted hair and lay it over his good shoulder. Digging in her fingers she found the hooks behind his neck and began easing the armor loose.
Careful of his wound, Eryndes peeled back the leather, guiding it over and off his shoulders, then down his arms. It was a heavy ensemble. Intricate, very ornate, and heavy.
She held it with due care for not only would its worth be considerable but it was also responsible for Sindar still being alive.
Sindar however took the heavy bundle from her and dumped it on the bench beside him with complete indifference.
Making no comment, Eryndes went to work on the silver tunic he had underneath.
Reach for his waist the belt came loose and she dumped it on the table. Stepping in close, edging herself between his long legs, she took the tunic's hem, trying to keep from looking him in the eye. "Sit up straighter."
"It may have failed your notice, I am injured?"
Her eyes flicked to his, but went back to working on the sleeve laces.
Sindar used his good hand to unhook the fastenings down the front.
Focusing on her task, she would not to notice the pale skin peeking through the ever increasing opening beneath his neck. Working moisture back into her mouth, she took the hem "Lift your arms."
He started then stopped, grimacing, "Perhaps not."
"Let me," she gently eased the silk up his good side, slipping out his arm and shoulder. "This may hurt," carefully following the same path but on his injured side, she guided his arm out of the sleeve, gently pulling the fabric away from the wound and then over his head. Straightening and folding the garment, she distracted herself. "What happened?"
He was quiet and only answered when she stopped to look at him questioningly.
"Battle happened," he answered tartly, "What happened is what happens in battles. People get injured . . . They are slain."
Eryndes bit her lip, the pain helping her hold back her grief, "Like Joust?"
A solemn nod.
Pushing away her own grief, Eryndes refocused on her patient's injuries. "Your hand is hurt too?"
"Dislocated fingers. I put them back in."
She frowned, "Are you sure?"
"Am I sure I put it back in? Yes, I am."
Out the corner of her eye she saw Gueniel passing not far away, "Gueniel? Can you please bring more bandages?"
Taking a long silent breath, she took a bowl of clean athelas water from the table. "This may feel a little strange," she croaked, licking her lips and trying to work moisture back into her mouth.
Gathering his hair she again pulled it forward over his good shoulder and bathed the wound. For a good minute or two she worked to clean him, rhythmic and careful. "Your shoulder is heavily bruised. The cut is not terribly deep but I will have to stitch most of it," she told him. "Does it hurt when you breathe?"
"No." He sighed, "Yes."
"In your lungs or just the movement to your injury."
"The movement."
That was good. She pressed around the area of his shoulder, digging her fingers in to feel the bone. Satisfied, she moved down his back, examining each bone and rib.
Taking his arm, she moved gently it in a circle to have the shoulder move, "Any pain?"
"Indeed."
"From the cut or . . . deeper?"
"The cut."
"You cannot lift it?"
"Not easily."
She replaced his arm and return to the table, "I doubt there will be any permanent damage. Just how long were you planning on going without treatment?"
"I possess a high tolerance of pain. It ensures I fight until the battle is done."
Eryndes threw the bloodied cloth into the boiling water, "Yes, I sure that comes in handy fighting while missing an arm or leg."
He snorted, "Precisely."
Wiping the wound dry, she muttered to herself about his infallible delusions.
"I am not delusional."
"Just a fool then," she scoffed with no humour, continuing her work until satisfied there was nothing foreign in the wound. "This will sting."
He did not flinch as the needle pierced his skin. Careful, Eryndes was precise in her work, making no more stitches than was necessary. Precise but not time consuming, her practiced skill was quick and efficient. Finishing, she cut the thread and got up to retrieve the salve to see him watching her with a raised eyebrow.
"I do not suffer a mental disorder," he declared with a curled upper lip.
She applied a good amount of the salve, "I never said you did."
"'Lost all sense', I remember clearly. 'Befuddled by fantasy'. Now delusional."
"And I a filthy liar and a coward!" she dumped the salve on the table with a thud, then sighed, "You must know I meant none of it."
When he was silent, Eryndes faced him, her arms tightly crossed over her chest.
Sindar watched her, undaunted.
Guarded.
The reality of their departure hit, she lowered her defenses enough to bring forth the words she'd longed to say since that fated day, "I acted shamefully when last we spoke. I never believed the things I said of you."
Nothing about him gave any clue to his thoughts.
Her heart ached with desperation, "I am sorry."
He was stoic for another pause but then he looked away, his head dipping a little, "(I do see it is so)."
Disappointment? Because she apologised? What more was she meant to say?
With a shaky sigh, she squeezed out a clean cloth in more athelas with her back to him. She spoke to break the silence, "You will need to be checked daily."
He made no answer.
"An elven healer will do if you prefer."
"Is that your wish? Or you think it mine?"
"Your face is cut." Quickly but with no less care she wiped blood and grime from his face, rubbing away the grit from his wounds. Satisfied, she dropped the now filthy cloth on the table and grabbed the pot of salve.
Mind on her task, she moved in close to take his chin. Then stopped.
Their closeness . . . So close. That was the same face she'd held, those were the same lips she'd kissed and mouth she'd tasted.
She felt the warmth of his exposed body radiating, pale and powerful. That same intoxicating smell, even after fighting in a terrible battle and covered in blood and grime, played in her nose, and danced on her tongue.
Frozen, she stood there between his knees, his chin two inches away from her bodice.
His keen eyes watched her every move, and she sucked in his breath, swirling and mixing with her own in the tight space between them.
She chanced a glance at his mouth. His lips parted . . .
Cheeks hot, Eryndes drew away and smoothed salve onto the cut to his dark eyebrow. She hoped he could not feel how her fingers trembled.
Or hear the speed of her heart.
She snapped his chin to the side and dabbed at his gashed ear, "Fortunately your face won't be spoiled by my stitches." She cringed. What a silly thing to say?
"It matters little; I do not scar."
Sealing the salve, she moved back over to the table, drawing a shaky breath. Of course he wouldn't!
"You have finished with me?"
She shook her head, and faced him, "Your hand?"
Sindar offered his injured hand. There was some minor bruising and swelling, and turned it over so the back lay against her palm. Feeling along the bones there didn't seem to be any lasting damage . . . Accept the little finger- "It is broken in two places."
Keeping his hand cradled in hers, she reached for a strip of flexible cloth, "There is not much can be done but I will bandage to ensure it knits straight. Hold your fingers in line." He did as she requested. Wrapping it gently around the two fingers, she was careful with the tension until the end was reached and both were firmly but not tightly held together. "Keep it on as long as you can." When he didn't answer Eryndes tensed and retreated back to the table, "I must caution you against drawing your bow until I am satisfied of your healing-"
"That would be most inconvenient."
"More inconvenient than ripping your stitches?" she snarled, whirling around to face him.
He had slid off the bench and stood before her. "I do have a war to fight."
"You-you are incorrigible," Eryndes faltered; he was even more beautiful standing upright. More intimidating. Every inch was hardened warrior, muscle and skin wrapped taut over his long frame. More likened to a natural predator, accustomed to the hunt.
She felt tiny, a lamb staring down a wolf. A magnificent, but deadly wolf.
"Perhaps," he conceded stiffly, moving closer to her.
A fear, nameless, taunted her and she backed away. Grabbing a vial, she hastened to fill a small cup. "For the pain."
Sindar took the cup from her, their fingers brushing. Slowly he emptied the tonic into his mouth. With a grimace, he swallowed, but his eyes not once blinking, not releasing her.
"Have I so thoroughly lost your trust?" he breathed finally, reaching passed her for his clothes on the table.
His accusation hurt her. "No more than I lost yours."
"(So I can see)."
Eryndes held herself, refusing to tremble, or gulp at the thickening of her throat. Her heart beat far too fast.
Sindar watched her back. The world faded away. Time and wars were something far beyond her sight.
All she saw was the one, the whole world, within those eyes. Those eyes whose pain was her doing.
Breathing raggedly, Eryndes opened her lips-
Sindar inclined his head, "Thank you for tending me," and then left. Breathless Eryndes watched him go, desperate to go after him.
But across the room stood Tauriel. Watching her. Her lovely features stern.
Upon his approach the she joined him and the two elves walked out together.
Eryndes squeezed her eyes shut against the pressure.
"Eryndes?"
"Yes," she gasped. Recollecting herself, she forced her body to relax and breath to ease. "Yes, Bregol?"
"Are you well?"
"Of course," she faced him with a smile. "Perfectly well. Come. We have wounded to attend."