Of Ice And Starlight

by TimeTraveler2233.00

In a time before the dragon had claimed Erebor and Greenwood was still vibrant, an old forgotten elf may change the fate of a king or two. This is is me. Playing with an idea and an AU involing and OC. No violence toward the author or fellow readers please. I may change the rating later though. Changed rating to "T" just in case for the upcomming chapters.

21. Chapter 21

When the raven haired elf woke it was deep into the night. It was a moonless night and as a result the shadows being cast throughout Imladris were nothing short of eerie. The only light provided was the soft glow of pale blue lanterns that gave the place an unreal appearance. The elegant architecture having striking, contrasting shadows that twisted and turned into shapes both beautiful and menacing did little to lessen the sensation that what was seen and perceived was not real. For the first time in ages Himelon woke without thought or sensation. As his pale blue eyes wandered the room he felt detached as if in a dream. It was as though he was simply watching a scene play out without any control over his own movements. At the left side of his bed was an elegantly carved white wooden chair occupied by Thranduil who had fallen asleep with his head resting in his hands. The small twitched of his face and hands indicated that he slept lightly and dreamt deeply. To the right was a small bed-like sofa which was inhabited by Lord Elrond who too had fallen asleep reclining on the small violet sofa. His sleep was significantly deeper and his breathing had become so light it seemed as if he drew no breath at all. Slowly the raven haired elf slipped out of the bed and made his way to the door. Along the way he made note of where his bow and blade rested before silently slipping out of the room.

The first thought that Himelon recognized was that something was wrong. The lack of sensation throughout his body did little to aid in the discovery of the problem but something still seemed off to the raven haired male. His feet carried him slowly and lightly through the halls of Imladris as if of their own accord. From the healing chambers down through the gardens to the main bathing pools Himelon silently wandered. There was no wind or stirrings of creature or elf as he went and all sound seemed to have evaporated from the world. The second conscious thought to enter the raven haired male's mind was that there seemed to be nothing on his left side. Nothing he could see anyway. It was as if a void rested where the left side of his vision should have been. The thought was not enough to rouse him from his detached state however.

The main bathing pools of Imladris were underground fed springs that pooled and ultimately flowed down into raging rivers that gave way to waterfalls. They were lined with blue lanterns and, on this particular night, the water seemed to be made of glowing blue glass. The time it took Himelon to disrobe and enter the water was exceedingly slow. It seemed as if time itself had slowed to a crawl and the stiff protests of his limbs did not allow for easy removal of the thin silver sleeping gown that had been placed on him. For hours the raven haired elf just floated and reclined in the pristine pools as he slowly felt his senses returning to him. It was if the gentle caress of the water was washing away the embrace of sleep and bringing him fully back to the conscious world.

As the golden sun appeared softly on the horizon Himelon rose from the comforting embrace of the cool water with intent to return to the room in which he'd first awoken. He now heard sound and distantly felt the touch of the ground beneath his feet, but the raven haired elf still felt distant and detached as if his body were not his own. As he slipped the silver fabric back on Himelon became very aware that something was not as it seemed. Where ordinarily there was fluid motion and little to no strain it felt as if his limbs could barely moved. The tension of the skin on his left side was as if it was pulled taught like animal hide over a drum. As confusion spread over his face the raven haired elf gently brushed his fingers over his left arm. It looked as he last remembered and felt, to the touch, as it should and yet Himelon couldn't shake the feeling that there was illusion at play. Sitting down by the water's edge and furrowing his brow Himelon tried to think back to the events prior in hopes of finding the answer. He remembered Greenwood and all that had transpired there. He could remember dawning battle armor and going somewhere. Then there was a gap. He remembered dreaming of something or someone perhaps and then of waking in Imladris and all that had occurred since. Closing his eyes the raven haired elf focused himself on remembering why he had put on armor and where he had been going. There were only faint glimmers at first. The stench of the dead, snow, fire, orcs and something hot. Very hot. There were shouts and words. The more he concentrated the more of the words he could decipher in the depths of his mind yet they made as little sense as and unfamiliar language to him. Just as a soft pressure in his skull was beginning to develop the raven haired elf was able to make out one word. And that one word was all it took to bring everything crashing back to him. Sensation, memory, and knowledge of why his left side was dark and his skin felt odd. That one word was "Dragon".

With a gasp and single tear rolling from his right eye Himelon was snapped back into reality with such force that it left his feeling dizzy. He turned and ran back through the halls to the healing room he'd woken in. As his feet carried him blindly and he expertly swerved around the elves who were beginning to wake and emerge from their rooms the memory of shoving Thranduil out of the way and the dragon flame was all that played in his head. The raven haired elf cared little for how much noise he made when he re-entered the healing chambers. In a few movements Himelon had crossed the room to the full length mirror stopping mere inches in front of it. His expression was empty as if devoid of all thought and emotion. The exact opposite was the case. He was afraid, curious, anxious, and excited all at the same time. He feared what he would find under the illusion of his skin and yet Himelon was fascinated that he had survived. In the mirror he caught sight of both Elrond and Thranduil waking with a start and moving towards him. The starlight haired male said something but the words were unheard as Himelon released the spell that had been so expertly cast over his left side. For a second there was pain. It felt as if his skin was being torn clean off but then there was nothing. The scars were plain to see and the only sensation on the left side was that of the air caressing the gaps in his flesh.

Elrond looked away and halfway looked as if he himself was in pain while Thranduil simply stared with gentle eyes full of sorrow. The Elven King had been blaming himself for the other male's wounds. Had he not asked Himelon to come these scars would surely been his own. Guilt and a deep set desire to protect the other with everything he had gnawed at the starlight haired male's gut. Out of instinct and desire to comfort the other Thranduil took a few cautious steps forward and reached out to touch the other. The touch had been purposely aimed for the left side of Himelon but his hand was thwarted by the raven haired elf's own curiosity. Himelon slowly drug his fingers of the scars one by one starting with his eye. His hand did not shake and his expression had not changed. It was as if he stood there unaffected and simply assessing the damage as one would a broken arrow or damaged shield.