Chapter 10

June 18th, TA 3020

"To most of you, Chief Healer Lhaewen has taught that to use your own energy for the healing of another is a mistake. And justly so."

Elladan kept his voice and his footsteps quiet, loath to wake any of the Houses' residents. The southern corridor leading to the ward was yet deserted at this early hour; the first light of dawn crept in through the pointed window in his back, washing over the blue and white mosaic that covered the floor and seeping in between the chipped tiles. In the sculpted doorway stood Redhriel, Steward of the Women's Ward, who bowed upon his arrival.

"She is awake, my Lord," she declared, acknowledging Elladan's retinue with a curt nod, before dropping her voice to enunciate a warning: "The night has been…troubled, as usual."

"I see."

As Elladan entered, he breathed in the scent of the ward: citrus and lye, from the soap used to scrub the floors, along with the underlying fragrance of lavender, from the strands perfuming the sheets stretched over ranks of identical beds lining the walls. And, under their pleasantness, meant to cover the stench of sickness, the ever-enduring odor of blood and decay.

When Elladan had first arrived to Bar-Lasbelin, the manor had stood in ruins. Its occupants had fled the proximity of both Osgiliath and Minas Morgul; time and nature had done the rest. Estel had gifted Legolas with the domain and Legolas, in turn, had petitioned help from both Imladris and Lothlórien to render it habitable once more. With his father's blessing, Elladan had answered the call.

With their own hands, helped by all those who had also chosen Ithilien as their new home, they had chased away the bats nesting under the joists and the spiders swarming in cobwebs as thick as linens. Masters from Imladris had lovingly restored panes of stained glass which had been shattered during a storm to their former glory, while Lórien carpenters had raised the broken walls once more. Saineth and Redhriel had scrubbed the beams free of rot until the wood had stood pale and bare, like the skeleton of some giant beast. Now, long curtains hung from those beams, shielding each and every bed from sight; curtains now drawn open and billowing in the morning breeze, except those surrounding a bed in the south-east corner.

Elladan strode towards said bed, his footsteps now purposefully loud, and peeked in between the curtains.

"Good morning, Saehild," he smiled. "How are you today?"

The girl sat up in her bed and tiredly returned his smile, muttering an answer that did little to convince him. Elladan noted the dark circles under her eyes, and the weakness in her scarred hand as she pushed a strand of dark blond hair away from her face. At least the cup that stood on the bedside table was empty: a sign she had taken her morning medicine, and that her discomfort was not due to pain.

"Nightmares again?" The girl nodded, eyes downcast as though ashamed of troubling the healers with the terrors that plagued her dreams. Elladan forced his own smile to remain upon his face as he stepped towards the bed, closing the curtains behind him. "Now, now, why so shy? There is no shame in having nightmares, little one. Not when one has survived what you have. Not when one is as strong and brave as you."

Saehild's lip quivered as she smoothed the sheets by her side, finding an occupation for her hands so as to busy her mind with something more casual. "I'm hardly brave," she objected. "I cry every night."

Elladan perched on the corner of her bed, hands folded in his lap, and lowered his voice: "Let me tell you something, little one. So do I." And, when Saehild's eyes widened in surprise, he added: "Sometimes even I cannot sleep without seeing again the dreadful things I have witnessed – and let me tell you I have seen a few during my many years. So…can you promise me to keep your head up high even when your dreams try to bring you down?" A small, but courageous nod, which he rewarded with a grin. "Good."

He rose from the bed. "Now, today I did not come alone. There are not one, not two but three other people here who would like to greet you as well. Do you think you are feeling brave enough to meet them?" He awaited the girl's assent – given in a small but distinctly lifted voice – to draw the curtain aside and reveal those standing behind it. "Let me introduce you to Taniel, Bruiven and Annahad, apprentices in the Houses of Healing."

All three bowed in greeting, Annahad lower and with more flourish than the others, for which Elladan granted him a first good point. Though Saehild drew the coverlet up to her chest, she was beaming and blushing both at being the center of attention of so many; Elladan's heart lifted at seeing the change in her face, her cheeks flushed with curiosity.

To the apprentices' credit, none of them had asked or complained about the unusual hour of their lesson, thus learning the first and most important principle in Elladan's book: it was not the patient who must adapt to the healer's convenience, but the other way around. Saehild's nights had been restless ever since she had come to Bar-Lasbelin, sent here by an aunt too exhausted by the care of two nephews much younger than Saehild herself – the youngest but a babe – in addition to her own children and without a living husband to share the workload with. And while the burns on the girl's hands and arms, sustained when she had pulled her brothers from their burning home, had healed, her spirit lived through the trauma over and over again every time Saehild closed her eyes.

Even before she had been released from the ward and transferred into the dormitories under Mistress Meldis' care, it was no rare occurrence to see her rise well before dawn. Elladan had encouraged Saehild to get some rest in the afternoon, while the sun was up to keep the shadows at bay, and thus knew to find her awake at this early hour.

Elladan had hoped, however, to never see her in the ward again.

He motioned for the apprentices to gather by the bed while he came around to face them. "Let us resume. To use one's energy presents two major flaws." Elladan balled his hand into a fist before raising the index to emphasize his teaching. "Firstly, your prayer to the Valar, bidding them to permit this, may go unnoticed over the clamor of the other healers' voices to do the same." Another finger went up as the apprentices listened raptly; Taniel was scribbling on a piece of parchment pinned to a thin wooden board – the only sound besides Elladan's own voice and the chirping of the birds outside as the settlement slowly came to life. "Secondly, our source of energy is not endless. Therefore, drawing from it will only deplete your forces, and thus limit the number of patients you can aid." He closed his hand once more. "And, while this should not pose a problem in times of peace, it is not an approach that I recommend."

Elladan bent to lay a light hand on Saehild's shoulder. "May I?" The girl's chin bobbed up and down even as she bit her lip with worry – another display of courage that tugged at his heartstrings. Elladan raised his voice once more, addressing his audience: "Instead, you can use the patient's own energy to heal her, provided she is strong enough to endure this…" Elladan searched out Saehild's anxious gaze and winked, prompting her to relax under his touch, "…which she undoubtedly is."

With slow, cautious gestures he unwrapped the bandage that covered her right forearm. Beneath, the flesh was swollen and bruised, retaining the trace of the linen wrappings. Though Redhriel had reported the injury during the night, Elladan bit back an exasperated sigh.

"It goes without saying that it is of utmost importance you ensure this before attempting what I am about to demonstrate."

Bruiven raised a hand. "What if the patient…" he hesitated, clearing his throat before he continued, "…isn't? Strong enough, I mean?"

Elladan nodded, acknowledging the pertinence of the question. "If the patient's condition is too dire to risk depleting their energy any further, you must first stabilize and reinforce them using what remedies you have at hand."

"But what if it is an emergency?" This time it had been Taniel who had spoken, frowning at her notes; beside her, Annahad startled and looked away, avoiding Elladan's gaze to seek a point of focus outside the window.

Elladan doubted Taniel had ever known a true emergency. The hot gushing of blood, the gasping as breath foamed upon parted lips and, worst of all, the mangled goodbyes to loved ones they would never see again…. He suppressed a shudder, loath to frighten Saehild, and forced himself to breathe in the lavender-and-citrus fragrance that mingled with the acidity of the girl's sweat. Death was something Elladan had encountered times and again, while being too old to still harbor any hope to avoid it. Young Annahad, however, never should have crossed its path.

Not ever, if Elladan could have his way. Though it was too late for Annahad, perhaps had the Fellowship's efforts managed to spare some other young elf the same grief.

"The urgency of a situation is, of course, subjected to the healer's assessment, one dependent on the healer's experience, training and, regrettably, his or her emotions." He watched as Taniel squirmed under his stare before looking at Bruiven, whose face had turned solemn, sparing only Annahad. "I can only say, from my own experience, that when practicing the art of healing, proceeding with excessive haste may well cost your patient her life."

A mistake, Elladan realized at once as Saehild tensed under his hand, paling to match the sheets she lay upon.

Shaking his head with feigned cheerfulness, he lightly patted her arm well above the injury. "But none of this will happen here. Our today's patient is in good health, if excessively clumsy, I am told." Saehild blushed once more, yet this time it was with sheepishness rather than pride. "And so, we may proceed."

Sliding his hands under her forearm, Elladan lifted it off the bed. "Annahad, what is your assessment in this case?"

Still shaken, the apprentice swallowed at his question, but answered nevertheless. "A broken arm, my Lord. I would need to take a closer look to be more precise."

With a tilt of his head Elladan invited him to step forward.

"Mistress, if you would allow me…?"

"Of course, my Lord," Saehild beamed, too delighted at having been called a 'Mistress' to remember to fear what was to come.

Under Elladan's scrutiny, Annahad lay a hand over the swelling, probing the skin with his fingertips while Elladan surveyed Saehild's face for signs of distress. "A transverse fracture of the ulna, my Lord," the apprentice declared at last, "slightly displaced and now re-set. I detect no comminution, which bodes well for a fast recovery." He offered Saehild a smile, earning one in return along with a nod of approval from Elladan, who watched with satisfaction as Annahad established a genuine bond with the girl.

"A fracture," Elladan repeated. "A common injury, especially in children."

Yet, Saehild was no longer a child.

Mistress Meldis had reported her having been caught sneaking out of the dormitories twice in a week; the reason had not yet occurred to the matron, but Elladan was not fooled. Remembering his own youth, he could have sworn that the girl's arm had served to cushion a jump from the first story window of her room. Saehild was no longer a child, but perhaps was she already woman enough to commit to the recklessness of young love, when locked doors are viewed as a challenge rather than a discouragement. Which meant that a second culprit was still out there, somewhere, yet unnamed and unpunished, but only because Elladan had not attempted to discover his identity before having a quiet chat regarding his intentions.

"Bruiven," Elladan met the young healer's eyes, "how would you suggest we proceed from here?"

"The…traditional approach would be to ensure the arm is reset and not too tightly bandaged, and leave the body to heal the bone, my Lord" the apprentice enunciated with some hesitation, "but I suppose this is not the purpose of today's lesson…?"

"Indeed," Elladan concurred, "none of you need any teaching in such simple matters, or you would not be here today. May I?" He bent to pick up the arm that lay listlessly upon the sheets and raise it to Saehild's shoulder level again. "A simple fracture, and yet, see how the flesh around it is swollen and tender to the touch. The inflammation is under way, and at present, it does her body more harm than good…." He scowled as Taniel scribbled at her parchment when she ought to watch, struggling to keep the sheets pinned to that beard of hers as a draft swept through the hall. "…scattering its efforts like a disorderly student scrambling to catch the notes the wind has stolen from her grasp."

The apprentice startled and raised her eyes at last, meeting Elladan's pointed stare with a blush.

"Earlier, I have mentioned using the patient's own energy to prompt her recovery. What we shall do is simply…encourage it to focus on a very specific task. As so."

Closing his eyes, Elladan concentrated on the pumping of blood under his fingertips – his own, and that of Saehild, inside the veins of her forearm. On the tension under her skin, caused by the presence of liquid around the fracture. His brain knew that vessels constricted by the swelling prevented adequate irrigation, leading to poor evacuation of the debris; a distant, logical conclusion. His body, however, experienced the tightness as acutely as if it had been his own flesh: a crimson pulsation behind his eyelids, and a painful tugging he yearned to release.

Therein lie another trap, one Elladan had not yet shared with his students.

Focusing on the built-up liquid, he wordlessly urged the flesh to relax, conveying the lymph back towards the shoulder, slowly, as though opening a rusty tap. "As usual, we must proceed with care and without precipitation," Elladan murmured. "The heart does not take well to an excess of bodily waste…." The pulsation subsided as the swelling decreased, until Saehild's gasp informed him of his success. "…and thus we can drain the swelling with the help of the patient herself." Elladan opened his eyes and offered the bewildered girl a smile. "Yes, my dear, this is your doing as much as it is mine. I did say you were brave, and I seldom speak idly."

With care, he relinquished his support to Saehild's arm as she raised it to the light, still gaping, to better see what could only be perceived as magic by someone so young and inexperienced. The brightness in her eyes was a reward in itself, stark against the dark circles marring her skin; Elladan caught himself hoping her new inclination would bring her some happiness, if not wisdom, for which it fell upon Mistress Meldis – and himself – to see to.

The admiration in the apprentices' eyes was more of a surprise, however, and Elladan clasped his now useless hands behind his back to conclude today's lesson: "My contribution to this healing is thus minimal, and suffices to set the body onto the path of recovery."

He nodded at Redhriel on his way out, the corridor now bustling with people – both Men and Elves – hurrying towards their daily tasks in this wing of the Houses of Healing, the crispness of the morning air flushing their cheeks. Washerwomen marched towards the Men's Ward, empty baskets hanging from the crooks of their elbows, giggling at some news they shared between bowed heads. Saineth surveyed the smoothly-running chaos with a critical eye, her forearms resting on a balustrade that gave onto the courtyard.

She raised an eyebrow as the three apprentices exited the Women's Ward in Elladan's back, and waited as he neared her on his way to the easternmost tower, where his office lay, to address him in her usual, blunt manner.

"From the reverent looks upon their faces, you must have truly impressed them."

Elladan shrugged. "It is hardly difficult to achieve."

Saineth narrowed her eyes, surveying the group over his shoulder. "And yet, I see no joy, nor pride, alongside all that wonder." She pursed her lips. "Which one have you chosen, then? Have you chosen at all? Oh, Elladan," she ended up sighing, "you must take an apprentice."

"Must I?" Crossing his arms upon his chest, his hands still tingling from Saehild's injury, Elladan leaned against one of the wooden pillars that lined the gallery to cast a look towards the entrance of the Women's Ward. "They are still so very young," he spoke, choosing his words with care. "Perhaps, given a few years, they would be better fit for such a training."

"A few years?" Saineth refrained from rolling her eyes, but barely. "Must I remind you of a discussion just like this one, a year ago? Elladan, you and your brother must pass on your knowledge before you sail, else it will be lost forever."

The plea came like a punch to the stomach, if only because Elladan had refused, until now, to envision such a parting. In his mind, there was still time – his own lifespan, namely – to make peace with Elrohir and bid him farewell.

He refrained from grimacing as he swallowed the bitter taste of his secret; his mood, lifted by Saehild's promising reaction to his treatment, now soured completely. "And whom would you have me pass it to? Taniel, who cannot look up from her notes long enough to notice her patients? Or Bruiven, who barely dares touch them?" He was aware of the bitter tone of his own voice, so easily mistakeable for contempt. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Elladan murmured: "Or Annahad, perhaps? He, who still bears the guilt of his sister's death without being able to…."

"Enough!" A sharp finger jabbed into his chest. "You, my friend, are turning into an old grouser faster than I can say this."

A cowardly one, at that.

For all the bad faith Elladan was tempted to adopt at that very instant, he could not deny she was right. His fists, clenched but moments before, unfurled to hang limply at his sides. "Saineth, I…I am sorry." "I am an imbecile."

"Certainly not. I forbid you to use such an easy excuse to explain your appalling behavior." Tilting her head to the side, Saineth studied him with a critical eye, much in the manner she looked at the teachings of Gondorian medics on the matter of midwifery. "Whatever has gotten into you?"

Yet Elladan could not bring himself to burden her with the truth; not when he watched her other hand shield her yet unborn babe through the skin of her belly. The memory of the village children he had failed to save came back to haunt him, overlapping with a much closer image of Saehild's drawn face. "Bad timing," Elladan offered with a contrite smile, "nothing that you need to concern yourself with." He stared into the distance, beyond the windows of colored glass that opened onto the woods. Towards the North-West, and the Last Homely House beyond the mountains.

What was Elrohir doing? Did he miss him as much as Elladan did?

The anger was subsiding, replaced by the now familiar twinge of loneliness, before something tugged at his memory. Something much closer in space and time…something to do with Saineth, and his duty to protect his people.

"I am yet to apologize on behalf of our Haradrim guest," Elladan began, remembering the healer's discomfiture at the sight of the woman's fury.

"…Mehreen…" Saineth interjected, her voice slightly lifted, and Elladan continued, encouraged by her response: "…but perhaps it is best this way."

He remembered the way her cheeks had flushed with righteous anger, red blotches marring the skin of a long, graceful neck; eyes flashing with indignation, so different from the startled creature he had come upon the day before.

An exotic bird released into a cold land, as incongruous as a peacock in the snow.

"You underestimate her," Saineth declared, causing Elladan to shake his head in fond disbelief. "I doubt it. The poor thing has fled as though the demons of her homeland were chasing after her. I am sorry, Saineth, for you did all you could to welcome her –" he turned to look at her, noticing how intently she surveyed the courtyard below – "but I am ready to wager we will not see her within these walls again."

A slow grin spread across Saineth's lips. "You would lose." She nodded towards the green.

Pushing himself off of the pillar, Elladan spun around to follow her stare.

There, amidst the healers that criss-crossed the courtyard in their purposeful movement towards their respective tasks, stood the Southron princess herself, her arms wrapped around her waist in a manner that accentuated the thinness of her frame, and the apparent frailty that Elladan knew better than to believe. Her gaze wandered through the courtyard, both uncertain and relieved; no doubt had she feared meeting him once more in the same spot…and still she had returned.

Elladan pushed down a surge of admiration, quickly replaced by annoyance. "And what exactly does she think she will accomplish by this?" he muttered to himself, remembering too late the keenness of Saineth's hearing and her taste for provocation.

"Proving you wrong," she grinned, an uncanny pride within her voice.

"As if. It may have taken some courage to walk through those doors again, but mark my words…she will not last a week."

"Are you willing to take another wager?"

Elladan stole another glance of the lonely figure cut by Mehreen down below, before outstretching his hand with a smirk. A few days – no, make it a few hours! – of unrelenting, unrewarding work inside the Houses of Healing, her dainty hands soiled with blood and worse excretions still….

"Of course."

"Good. If I win, you will take an apprentice and train him, or her, to the rank of Master Healer. No more dallying. That, and I get your study; I have always found it more spacious than mine. And if I lose…."

The answer sprang to Elladan's mind, as sure as was his upcoming victory. "If you lose, we will not speak of replacing me for the decade to come."