9
"Come in." Elrond called, as he heard a knock on his study door. The door flew open to his surprise and Erestor strode in, his face in turmoil.
Elrond came to his feet "Erestor, what is amiss?" It was rare to see Erestor so disturbed.
"Elrond, a messenger from the border just came. The Imladris company that set out with Celebrian is arriving."
"Arriving? But they should still be in Lothlorien, Erestor." Elrond began then stopped as realization came. "What has happened, Erestor?" He gripped Erestor's forearm.
Erestor shook his head. "All I know is that they are returning and that Celebrian and Cyllessil are with them. As is Thranduil." Erestor looked at Elrond with a worried expression.
Returning with Celebrian? And how was Thranduil with them if he was to meet them in Lothlorien? Elrond's head was spinning but a deep dread was washing over him. He picked up his robes and ran to the front of his house, calling to Erestor as he ran. "I will go meet them, Erestor!" he said, before he realized his friend was right behind him.
He reached the front door and passed the waiting messenger. Outside he spotted the messenger's horse and vaulted onto it, not waiting to find one from the stable. He rode hard down the path.
His thoughts along the ride had still not adequately prepared him for what he found: a ragged company of Elves, most riding double, with horses that looked near death. Glorfindel looking spent. His sons pale shadows of themselves, Elladan cradling a bundled figure in his arms. And Thranduil. Elrond had not seen despair like that in an Elf's face for more than an age he thought, as he met Thranduil's eyes over the limp body of Cyllessil in his arms.
"Elrond!" Glorfindel called and pushed his horse to come to Elrond's side. "Elrond." He repeated, then came to attention and gave his report. "We were waylaid by a large company of orcs and warg riders at the Redhorn Gate. We were near overcome and Lady Celebrian and the Queen were captured. Those of us who could ride pursued and found them the next day. They have both suffered grievous injuries, Elrond. It is only the healing skills of your sons that have kept them alive to reach you here. Thranduil found us on the road and he and his guard have escorted us here." Glorfindel looked at Elrond sorrowfully. "I take full responsibility for this, Elrond. I have failed you."
Elrond stared at Glorfindel, at a complete loss for words. "I am sure you did all you could and more, my friend." Elrond said hoarsely, his own voice sounding far away and different to him. He looked to his sons and the expressions on their faces now mirrored what he had seen in Thranduil's and the fear came on him more intensely than it did with Glorfindel's words alone. "Bring them to the house quickly. I will get the healers." Elrond spurred his mount and rode back to the house, shouting orders as he slid off his horse.
Thranduil sat at Cyllessil's side as the healer examined her again. His heart sank as he saw that her arm was now black from shoulder to wrist. Her breathing was shallow and far too rapid. He had heard that as he carried her in his arms and he knew she was still burning with the fever. As she lay on his chest on the ride he had felt the heat from her, even through his clothing.
He gazed at Cyllessil's face, wishing she would open her eyes so that he could see them again. Her face had thinned and her lips were far bluer than he expected. The realization that she might truly die was one he had been fending off for days, focusing on the ride and keeping her stable on horseback. But as he looked at her now and allowed himself to really see her, he realized that she was dying. She was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.
His eyes flew to the healer and he saw the same realization in the healer's face.
"Your highness," the healer began, pausing as Thranduil threw his hand up to stop him.
"Is she going to die?" Thranduil asked bluntly. "Answer me that."
The healer looked down at Cyllessil and then raised his eyes to Thranduil's. "I am sorry, hir-nin. There is no more that I can do. What happens now is in the Valar's hands." Thranduil reached for Cyllessil's hand as the healer spoke, tracing circles on the back of it as his mind tried to take in the healer's words.
"Where is Elrond?" he asked finally. "I haven't seen him since this morning."
"I am here, mellon," came a tired voice from the doorway. Elrond leaned on the doorframe, eyes weary and new lines on his face that Thranduil had never seen before. "I am here," he repeated.
"How is Celebrian?" Thranduil forced himself to ask, knowing Elrond was as distraught about his wife as Thranduil was about his own. He had to be patient. Elrond was going through the same thing, but being forced to be a healer as well as a husband, Thranduil reminded himself.
Elrond gazed at Thranduil, regret showing on his face. "I think I may have slowed the poison finally."
Thranduil's eyes blazed hopefully as he heard Elrond's words, although a part of his mind was wondering at his friend's expression. Elrond looked at Thranduil for a moment longer and then spoke again, softly. "Mellon, the poison isn't the main issue with Celebrian and you know that."
Thranduil knew then why there was regret on Elrond's face. He couldn't do anything more for the poison still in Cyllessil, he realized. "Elrond," he said, not recognizing the pleading tone in his own voice.
Elrond came into the room and examined Cyllessil as Thranduil looked on. When he had completed his evaluation, he nodded to the other healer still in the room and the healer took his leave of them.
Elrond sat down next to Thranduil and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thranduil, nothing I have done has had any effect on this poison in Cyllessil's body. I cannot make it stop and I cannot lessen it." He paused. "There is nothing I have not tried, short of removing the source itself which would no doubt kill her just the same."
Thranduil buried his face in his hands. "Elrond, please," he begged. "What if . . ." he paused, hardly believing he was even suggesting this, "What if you took her arm?" he whispered between his fingers.
Elrond squeezed his friend's shoulder once before speaking. "Thranduil, it will certainly kill her if I even tried." He sighed. "I too have thought about this option. But the wound is so high and so close to her chest that I cannot. Her other lung is punctured still and not well functioning. If I attempt this she will likely lose use of this lung and that will kill her. And I doubt I will have even then removed all the source of the poison," he finished heavily.
"So there is no hope." Thranduil said, raising his head and looking at Elrond, tears gathering and flowing unheeded down his face. Elrond shook his head.
"She is burning from the inside, Thranduil. I cannot keep her temperature down. I cannot heal her lung. I cannot stem the poison. She doesn't have the strength to heal any of this herself anymore. It is too far gone." Elrond replied.
"What if she sails?" Thranduil asked, his voice a whisper.
"Mellon-nin," Elrond said, shaking his head, tears in his eyes now as well. "I do not think she will live through the day, let alone the trip to the Havens." Elrond whispered back.
Thranduil gripped the chair handles with ice-white knuckles, barely feeling the wood creak beneath his hands. "What must I do Elrond? What do I do?" he asked desperately.
Elrond laid his arm gently on Thranduil's forearm, feeling the tenseness of the muscles and the slight trembling coming from the King.
"Hold her until she goes and remember that you will meet again on different shores." Elrond replied, his voice edged with the sorrow he had at giving his friend these tidings. He had tried everything and he knew now, more than ever, that whatever else he did would simply cause her anguish and bring her end more quickly and more painfully. He knew Thranduil would not want that for his beloved Cyllessil.
He had never felt the limitations of his healing skills more than in the last two days. He was losing Cyllessil today, of that he was sure. But in his own mind, his thoughts hidden away from all others, he was coming to realize that he would likely lose Celebrian as well. Perhaps not today or tomorrow. He might succeed in healing her body but her spirit was beyond him. He could feel her pulling away through the healing bond he had with her and he feared, if she survived in body, she would leave him to sail.
He blinked his eyes and dragged his thoughts away from his internal turmoil and back to his devastated friend. He bent down and touched his forehead to Thranduil's, trying to send as much strength to his friend as he could spare. As he stood back up he looked down at Thranduil and stretched out his hand. "Come, mellon-nin, come hold your wife."
He pulled Thranduil off the chair and guided him to lay on the bed with Cyllessil on his lap, cradled in his arms. "Do you want me to stay, Thranduil?" he asked gently.
Thranduil placed his cheek on Cyllessil's red-gold hair. "No, Elrond. Go to Celebrian. Be with your wife." He closed his eyes and stroked his wife's hair. Elrond nodded, wiping a tear from his face as he gently closed the door behind him and walked back to where Celebrian lay.