It took Legolas less than half an hour to retrieve enough athelas and return to the village. The villagers must have heard the news, as they hurried him to the infirmary the moment they saw him, worry etched onto their faces.
A lady, who could only be Melyanon, sat ashen-faced next to a pale Halbarad holding a frail looking boy of perhaps, four summers. The boy reached out weakly for his father's hand, an uncanny sort of understanding in his somber expression as he took his hand.
Legolas placed a hand on the child's shoulder as he said reassuringly, "Fret not, child. With athelas, your father will be up and about in no time." But he exchanged a glance with the man who must be Strider. It wouldn't be an easy battle against the poison.
Strider walked up, and his voice was calm as he said, "Come, let us leave our friend to work his healing." Stopping beside Melyanon, he added, "Mel, come. We'll wait by the side. It is time for Garion's medicine." As he scooped up the pale child, he put an arm around his friend's wife to assert a gentle pressure, half supporting her to the door.
Before he left, he turned back once, and Legolas saw a quiet plea to save his friend shining from Strider's eyes before he nodded and shut the door behind him.
He was exhausted by the time he had healed the man named Halbarad, but a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. In a way, being able to help this man helped assuage some of the grief he had felt at seeing his kinsmen fall at last Battle. He looked down at his patient, and with satisfaction, noted that the colour had begun to return to his face. It would take the better part of a month for full recovery, but the poison at least, was out of his system.
As he opened the door, he was surprised to see that the entire village was waiting patiently outside, and that a makeshift waiting area had been set up with food being brought around for the men who must have just returned from battle.
Melyanon was by his side at once, and he smiled at her, "Your husband will pull through." She sank in relief as the hint of a smile lit up her face, and her lightened expression brought attention to her beauty. "He is weak from the loss of blood, but nothing a good rest wouldn't heal." She grabbed his hands in gratitude, and as she thanked him profusely with tears running down her face, he was slightly bemused at the outward show of emotions these people were wont to portray.
Strider came up to him, still carrying the child, who had fallen asleep. "You have our gratitude, mellon nin. And yet, I have no knowledge of your name, with which to address you."
Legolas crossed his arm against his chest in an elven greeting, "Legolas of the Woodland Realm. Think nothing of it, for being able to heal you friend has brought me comfort as well." There was a question in Strider's face as he, in turn, returned the greeting as if he had used this same greeting all his life, "My friends call me Estel, but I am perhaps better known as Strider."
Tauriel's meeting with Lady Dis had been an emotional one, and yet, she was glad for it. The weight of the talisman had been stifling, a constant reminder of Kili's death. He had died defending her, for a love that she would not have been able to return, and the weight of that knowledge had been suffocating. Having returned that to its rightful owner, Tauriel could now focus on what she needed to do.
She had been overwhelmed by Lady Dis' gratitude, the latter having heard accounts of an elf that stayed behind to tend to her son's wounds before the battle. In return, she had been grateful for Lady Dis' understanding and acceptance of a stranger for whom her son died defending.
"He died honourably then."
That was all she had said. And yet, that had said so much.