HEALING CAN BE A SLOW PROCESS, BUT IT'S WORTH IT…RIGHT?
Time passed slowly in Rivendell leaving the inhabitants with a feeling of separation and isolation from the rest of Arda. While all were well aware of the struggle against Sauron's forces the was a distinct lack of evil in the air that could be felt nearly everywhere else. It was often for travelers to be unable to describe the feeling of safety and protection felt in the hidden valley. While others may consider safety and protection enviable, at this moment all Eruraviel felt was irritation. Glorfindel met her at her door every morning with Elrond to change her bandages, again refusing to let the wrappings stay off, and then escort her to the morning meal. She would then sit at the head table with Elrond, Celebrían, Celeborn, Glorfindel, Erestor, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen. She sat between Celeborn and Glorfindel on Celebrían's left side while the others sat to Elrond's right. During the meal, all at the table would converse on a variety of topics from history to battle plans. She was initially surprised to find herself so included in the discussions as her input was frequently asked.
After the morning meal, she would wander the forest surrounding the main household and visit with Arvellas who seemed quite taken with a black stallion that she later learned was named Arbellason meaning Noble Strength in Sindarin. In fact, Eruraviel wouldn't be surprised to find Arvellas pregnant in the next few years. During her walk she would find herself often accompanied by a variety of elves. Celeborn had walked with her multiple times so had Celebrían and Glorfindel. She had had a fruitful conversation about history with Erestor and talked about pranks with the twins. Arwen asked about her life abroad and her adventures. She found her tales to be fascinating and Eruraviel had to fight the sad smile that surfaced at the memory of the conversation during their last walk.
~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~
"Your life seems to be so full of excitement and adventure that I must admit I find myself jealous." Arwen stated and Eruraviel smiled sadly at the young ones naivety, it was times like this where people innocence and inexperience shown through.
"Ah Penneth, it is not as glorious as you think. At any point, something could have gone seriously wrong and I could have lost my life or failed to save the people I was protecting. Fighting against evil may seem to be a grand heroic adventure but to the one fighting…it's just hell. There is a strain on the mind during a fight where every sense is on high alert and every muscle in your body tense as a bowstring ready to snap. Learning to control the instinctive rush of power is difficult and if not done properly can result in death, not just of one's self but your comrades as well. The constant travel can be draining, as you must always be prepared for an ambush or a fight, as who knows what you my stumble across. These big battles in history you read about are beyond exhausting. You fought down in the training fields and you've felt the exhaustion that appears after a certain time. How long before that sets in?" she asked the elleth next to her who was walking with a frown on her face.
Arwen seemed to think for a moment before replying.
"About two hours or so before I have to stop lest I make a mistake or lose the fight" she said thoughtfully somewhat confused by my question. By now, I could feel the presence of Elrond, Celebrían, Celeborn and Glorfindel as they stopped to hear my response.
"Penneth I want you to imagine for a moment that you stand in the midst of chaos, a battle field wrought with danger on every side. You fight and pass the one hour mark and your body starts to slow a bit. Then the two hour mark hits and your mind becomes fatigued from the constant alertness you demand of it, but the fight is no where near won. You have people depending on you to keep fighting, if you fall so will countless others. Then the three hour mark passes and the determination that saw you through starts to wane as every muscle in your body screams for you to stop. Your mind has a near haze over it as it starts to shift to an instinctual mode of flight or fight but you can't let it do so as you must keep your wits about you. You force yourself to focus and want to scream as you realize that the fight is not even half over and already your legs want to collapse under you as numerous nicks and scrapes from your wounds make themselves known. Still you must keep fighting. The five hour mark passes and your hands shake as you hold your sword. You've seen numerous comrades fall and your spirit cries at the loss. Your panting and trembling as your body screams like never before; with your exhaustion you've taken more cuts from your enemy as they slow you down even further. But still the fight continues into the sixth, seventh and eighth hour as it finally draws to a close. You can barely stand and all around you is a scene of devastation and loss. You've won the battle but at what cost? Who have you lost and who will you lose in future battles that will follow? And what will you do when tomorrow is the same as today?" Eruraviel asked her and could see that while she struggled the young elleth could imagine the scene and her hands shook from the sheer thought of going through something so horrific. She gasped lightly for air as she turned and gasped out her response.
"How? How do you do that?" Arwen gasped imagined horrors no doubt filling her mind. With that question Eruraviel smiled sadly at her and beckoned the other four into the open slightly surprising Arwen.
"Ask these four as they have all faced that very struggle and more in their fight against the darkness." Eruraviel told her and could only watch with sympathy as the young elleth launched herself at her father and held on as though the world was ending. He held her tightly and she felt his thanks brush her mind with the brief memory of her asking to go fight with her brothers on patrol. She nodded wordlessly, left the small family in the clearing, and went back to her rooms her mind churning with the very memories that she had just described to that young elleth. She would rather the girl learn from her tales than experience. The elleth was no doubt very brave and skilled with the sword but using a weapon in training and using it in battle were two wildly different things. She had been blindsided by that very same thing when she first went to battle. There was just no way to truly prepare for a fight of that nature. She had more than her fair share of scars from mistakes on the battlefield. No one was a perfect fighter there were advantages and disadvantages against every opponent that changed drastically due to a wide variety of reasons.
Even now she was still convinced that she won her fight against Thuringwethil by luck and chance. Make no mistake she was very glad that she had won the fight but she wished she had the confidence to say she earned the kill. It was one of the reasons that when she talked about her past with strangers she didn't bring up the one kill that had made her so famous among the elves and those who studied history. While she believed Arwen had the will to fight, she was still a long way off from being able to hold her own in a true battle.
It was only rarely that she allowed herself to remember the friends that she had lost in her long life. She had lost so many during Gondolin's days of power and their standing as an enemy against Melkor. Morcion had been her best friend; they had met during training and had become as close as siblings and fought like siblings as well. They pushed each other harder and harder as the date of their graduation to warriors of Gondolin approached. It had be Mercion who had gifted her with the swords she still carries. He had received his own dual blades from her. When together they stood in sharp contrast Eruraviel was small and lithe and was more brightly colored than most elves with her hair and eyes. Mercion stood tall at 6'6" and was the most physically strong of their training group. He had sharp features with raven black hair, and oddity among the Vanyar elves with dark blue eyes. While she danced around her enemies, he just tore through them.
It was on their tenth year as Guardians on Gondolin when they had been on patrol and had come against a group of 60 orcs. They had sounded the horn and held on as long as they could until help arrived. However, during the fighting they had been separated and she had missed and orc archer aiming at her back. Shouting out a warning Mercion had jumped between her and the archer taking the arrow himself. It had caught him through the lung and was doused in poison. Terrified and furious at the same time she had fought over his prone form as blood trickled through his lips. When the reinforcements arrived, she had let them finish off the orcs and had dropped to her knees next to her friend trying to find some way to save him. But there was nothing she could do. There was a slim possibility of surviving a lung shot, but when you mixed in the deadly acid like poison the orcs used…there was nothing that could be done to help him. They stood by him comforting him as he passed into the Halls of Mandos.
His death had changed something in Eruraviel. She had become more withdrawn and now carried a personal grudge against the orcs and their master. Whenever she came across them on patrol, she didn't hesitate to leap amongst them and start killing every one of them. She had been reprimanded for her recklessness more than once, before she learned to temper her anger and obey her commanders during the fight. Now when she fought against orcs she became cold and hard. She had over time learned to turn that off when the battle was over, but it was better than flying into a rage every time she saw an orc. A wound of the soul may be less deadly but it takes a lot longer to heal than a physical wound. Although if Elrond didn't let her out of these Valar forsaken bandages she would not be held responsible for her actions. She hated being incapacitated in any way and not having all her limbs functional was making her more irritated than a cat in heat.
~~~~~~~~Flashback End~~~~~~~~~
She still had another week before Elrond would consider removing the bandages and she wanted them off now. She had tried asking Glorfindel but he turned her down however not before telling Elrond what she was trying to do. She had then gotten an hour long lecture on exactly what could happened if she used her arm before it was healed and was then watched like a hawk from that moment. Anytime she fidgeted with the bandages got her a dark glower and later her tea that she was supposed to drink to aid in her healing always tasted even fouler than normal. It didn't take long for her to get the hint and leave the bandages alone. During the times where the need to be active started to truly take her around the bend Glorfindel would arrive and take her on a long walk or hike while discussing Gondolin or a variety of other topics. Their walks had actually become one of her favorite activities not that she would tell Glorfindel that. That elf could be seriously smug sometimes and it made her want to hit him. Sometimes depending on the situation, she didn't bother resisting the urge though she tried not to do so in public as the last time had seen the surrounding elves look at her in horror as though she had just burned a book.
While a part of her flourished under the attention another part chaffed and rebelled insisting that she shouldn't need anyone and that it would be safer for them if she wasn't so involved with their lives. She had decided to try and cut back on the amount of time she spent around the others but that had only lasted two days before they nearly knocked down her door and refused to let her go anywhere before she explained what was going on. She had tried to make a few excuses to avoid having to divulge to real reason but of course, all of them had seen through her attempt to keep the real reason a secret. It had led to a sappy group hug that turned into them staying the night in her room all tossed together in a pile. It had been one of the weirdest experiences of her life.
Today she was headed down to the stables to check on Arvellas. She didn't know who Arbellason belonged to but she hoped they wouldn't mind her mare staking a claim. Arvellas had been following that poor stallion around almost continuously. She blinked her eyes and was surprised to see Elrond and Glorfindel at the fence line that enclosed the lower grazing field. She walked over and rolled her eyes as once again she saw Arvellas leaning up against Arbellason 200 yards away.
"I hope I can get a chance to apologize to the owner of that stallion, it seems that Arvellas is quite taken with him." She said as she joined them at the fence. She saw a smirk on Glorfindel's face and narrowed her eyes at him in response.
"You know who he belongs to don't you?" she said flatly. Watching as his eyes lit up in glee.
"Aye fair maiden," at this she rolled her eyes and her continued. "That stallion belongs to our dear Lord of Imladris here." He said before breaking out into laughter at the look on hers and Elrond's faces. Hers looked mildly horrified while Elrond seemed to be quite happy for his steed. She hastily looked at Elrond and bowed towards him apologizing in a rapid somewhat undecipherable apology due to the speed she was talking. He laughed lightly and shook his head.
"Do not worry so Eruraviel. I was actually worried for him as he never seemed interested in finding a mate, I am happy for him. That he has chosen your mare merely speaks to his good taste. Much like Glorfindel and yourself." At this, both her and Glorfindel turned bright red and refused to look at each other. Elrond just laughed harder and jumped the fence walking towards the grazing horses. She quickly followed not wanting to remain in the awkward and embarrassed silence left in Elrond's wake.
Elrond clucked slightly with his tongue to warn Arbellason of our approach. Arvellas looked up as she sensed my approached and trotted over her faer happy and sated. Eruraviel knew then that Arvellas had indeed chosen Arbellason as her mate and would take no other. Thinking lightly she wonder what she would do with the foal born from their union. The foal would be of Gondolin stock meaning that the chosen rider would have a steed who would last their lifetime as an eternal companion. She smiled and looked at Glorfindel who stood nearby and thought that maybe she already knew who to foal should go to. He would no doubt love a connection to their old home besides memories. She resolved to bring the matter up to Elrond for when her mare fell pregnant.
Arvellas butted her lightly in the shoulder before trotting over to Glorfindel who smiled and obeyed her request for petting. The lines on a Gondolin steed are different from others as they are more streamlined and narrow. While many would think that that would result in a physically weaker horse their bones are lighter yet stronger than another and their muscle more balanced allowing them to channel more strength and speed from them. The result was that you got a horse that was both fast and could easily hold their own in battle. They were also extremely intelligent and devoutly loyal to their riders. While the foal would only be a half breed the Gondolin steed traits were dominant as a result any horse that Arvellas bore would be of true Gondolin stock.
She scratched at her bandages and winced when she caught Elrond's glare. Great she thought, another night with foul tasting tea. She had hoped to avoid drinking the tea's and maybe being able to pour it into a plant off her balcony but Elrond stayed with her until she drank all of it. Tonight would no doubt be the same. She HATED having to recoup from an injury. At least in the wild while in may take longer to heal she would still have been able to use it. Here she was literally trapped until such a time as Elrond removed the bandages. May the Valar gift her patience for she was nearly out. She was starting to get a claustrophobic feeling and she knew it wouldn't fade until she was back on the road. She had faced the same feeling any time she remained in one place too long, although the effects were usually stronger.
She turned from the field and headed back towards her room. She would be leaving in two weeks and she needed to make sure she had her trip planned out carefully and the routes memorized. She got back to her room and pulled out her map and laid it on the coffee table. Looking at the possible routes she decided to follow the Bruinen river to the north-south road and follow the road to Pelagir. From Pelagir she would cross the river and making sure to have her Harad disguise ready, would head east then south following the end of the north-south road. Once past Gondor and into the desert she would change into the Harad desert garb and stash her other clothing elsewhere. She would also hide her swords and bow, as they were too distinctive. All she would have would be her daggers, which were easily concealable beneath her clothes.
She looked up at the knock on her door and was surprised to see that the sun had gone down while she had been lost in her planning. With a feeling of trepidation she opened her door to see Elrond standing on the other side…holding a cup of foul smelling liquid.