"I tell you, Elrond, you must have more silver birches," Amroth said emphatically as Thranduil nodded his support. The welcome feast of Rivendell had now been in full swing for hours, and the Elven nobility at the head table were locked in pleasant conversation. "I crossed the Misty Mountains through the Redhorn Gate to come here. Near the western edge, there was such a copse of birches as I had never seen. My party spent a whole day there just to enjoy them."
"Birches add such beauty to Greenwood," Thranduil added. "My people tend to use beech and oak trees for their dwellings, but surround their homes with birches when they can."
"Perhaps we can send our sons to collect some seeds or saplings for us," Celebrian ventured with a smile at her husband.
"Some of my soldiers could accompany them," Thranduil offered. "There is none better than a Silvan for working with trees."
Elrond smiled at his enthused companions. "Very well, in a few days we can send a group to collect birch trees for the valley." Amroth cheered his small victory and Celebrian beamed, listing off potential planting sights.
Thranduil took the moment to look out over the other diners. The table where the bulk of his soldiers had been sitting was largely empty. He assumed they would be acquainting themselves further with the grounds and people or finding their own entertainments. Toward the edge of the dining space, he spotted Elluin as she supported a hobbling Harthadon, the pair slowly and awkwardly making their way towards the healing rooms. The king frowned, noticing that Harthadon was singing rather loudly and seemed to be largely uncooperative — likely due to an excess of wine, he guessed. Elluin was struggling unnecessarily under his weight as the ellon hopped along haphazardly.
"Merciful Estë," he murmured to himself in frustration. "Why is she on her own?"
Overhearing, Elrond abandoned his conversation and followed Thranduil's gaze. He quickly waved a servant over. "Pathanar, help the maiden take our guest to the healing rooms."
"Wait," Thranduil interrupted. "I will go. Harthadon needs to be reminded of the expected conduct of a soldier of Greenwood."
As the king rose and stalked away from the table, Elrond called softly after him, "Please do not be too harsh, Thranduil. The medicinal herbs I gave him are somewhat to blame for hindering his judgment."
Thranduil barely raised a hand in acknowledgment. He met Elluin and Harthadon in the walkway just after they cleared the dining area. Spotting the king, Elluin stopped short in surprise. Unable to curtsy without unbalancing her already unstable companion, she bowed her head briefly.
Harthadon was less graceful in his greeting. "Sire!" he called happily. His attempt to salute turned into a grunt of pain as he belatedly remembered his sore shoulder.
"Harthadon, you are dishonoring your position," Thranduil scolded. "I would hope that a soldier of Greenwood would at least show respect to his hosts and his healers."
"My king, this is my fault," Elluin interrupted. "I should have taken him back to the healing rooms sooner. It seems the herbs made him more susceptible to the wine." She looked darkly at her companion, who was suddenly fascinated by a nearby tree.
"Where are the others? They could have helped you."
Elluin smiled slightly at his concern then answered, "Lindir invited most of them to climb one of the waterfalls, sire. None of us realized Harthadon would be...this much trouble."
Thranduil sighed and stepped close to them, and Elluin dutifully passed her charge to him. With his good arm draped around a taller and broader set of shoulders, Harthadon was able to hop along more easily. The pressure of Thranduil's hand on the still-mending ribs under his opposite arm helped somewhat to sober him. Thranduil nodded for Elluin to lead the way and she obeyed, with an occasional glance behind as if to warn her charge to behave.
The healing rooms of Rivendell were warm, defying the chill of the newly-come spring. Steam carried the muted perfume of soothing herbs through the air. Elluin reached the cot assigned to Harthadon and rearranged the pillows for Thranduil to lower him into a seated position. She briefly studied a cup of something that had been set at the table beside his cot.
"Sire, this will calm him and help him sleep," she said, recognizing the mix of herbs. She sat on the cot beside the soldier then looked at him seriously. She adopted the tone she frequently heard the healers of Greenwood use with stubborn patients. "Harthadon, you have shown yourself perfectly capable of emptying cups unassisted tonight. Drink this."
Harthadon narrowed his eyes at the cup she pressed into his hand but took a sip, instantly grimacing and groaning at the bitter taste and trying to hand back the cup.
"All of it, please," Elluin insisted, gently pushing the cup towards his mouth again. She missed the sparkle of amusement in Thranduil's eyes as Harthadon glared at the elleth but obeyed. She reviewed her companion quickly, ensuring his shoulder was set correctly in the sling and that the splint on his leg was secure before rising.
"Sire, I will fetch fresh bandages for his head wound," she said and quickly left with a small curtsy when Thranduil nodded his consent.
Thranduil sighed heavily, studying his wounded companion, who was smacking his lips quietly, trying to get the taste of the herbs out of his mouth. "What am I to do with you?" the Elvenking said, though his words were weightless. He decided to keep his soldier company for a while, still feeling somewhat to blame for the injury. He pulled over a chair to sit by him. The herbs worked quickly and Harthadon soon leaned his head comfortably back against the pillows.
The peace of the healing rooms was interrupted when an elleth brought in a crying Elfling who was cradling one of his hands. Thranduil judged him to be about ten years of age, still a few years from growing tall enough to reach his hip. One of the healers quickly came to attend them, seating the wounded Elf child on a low bench. Thranduil smiled in amusement at the healer's somewhat ineffective attempts to sooth the child as she cleaned the small cut on one of his fingers, which apparently resulted from a stick sword sparring accident. Although the cut hardly needed a bandage, the healer correctly judged that the bandage in itself would help the young one feel better.
The Elfling's crying subsided to sniffles, but he still complained of excruciating pain. Thranduil found himself wishing that this small cut would be the only pain the little one ever suffered, and his eyes darkened as his own battle wounds — the ones that marred his spirit — began to ache.
Having nothing further to offer the ailing little one, the healer politely dismissed him and his companion, presumably his mother, incanting the age-old advice to rest until he felt better. As they stood to leave, Elluin returned from the back of the rooms with her supplies. She had heard the conversation and smiled at the sniffling young one.
"Brave warrior," she said, bending to look into his face, "are you still in much pain?"
The Elfling nodded and looked at her with teary eyes.
"I am from Greenwood, and we have a special medicine there. I have found it to be most effective on sword battle wounds." Elluin winked at the Elfling's mother, and knelt down beside him. She gingerly took his little hand in her own and took on a sober expression. "I will heal it with a kiss." She placed a feather-light but dramatically noisy kiss on the Elfling's bandaged finger and smiled brightly at him. "Now, doesn't that feel better?"
An answering smile broke out on his young face. "Yes! It's Greenwood magic! Mama, look, she made it better!" He showed off his kissed finger to his mother, who gave Elluin a conspiratorial smirk as she cooed her agreement and led her charge off while he chatted enthusiastically about the friends he was going to tell.
Elluin smiled after them as she quickly made her way back to Harthadon's side and began her work.
"Elluin, will you heal me with a kiss?" Harthadon asked with a sleepy smile.
If they had been alone, Elluin would think nothing of Harthadon's remark in his impaired state; however, she could feel the king's eyes on her and felt her cheeks redden.
"You hardly deserve it after your antics tonight. You were warned about avoiding the wine," she decided to say. She made him wince as she cleaned the wound and made no apology. Thranduil noted that Harthadon's discomfort did not seem to upset her, unlike when she was tending to his arm wound after the rock slide.
"Sire," Harthadon said, interrupting the king's thoughts, his voice groggy but quiet, "do you remember the last day of the siege?"
Elluin considered abandoning her task to allow them privacy for their conversation — she knew it was still painful for both of them to recall the days of the War of the Last Alliance. She opted instead for staying silent and speeding her work.
"Yes, Harthadon," Thranduil said quietly. "You used your sword to block an Orc arrow that would surely have hit me. I will never forget."
Harthadon spoke slowly as his eyes drifted shut. "I received a nice gash across the ribs for my trouble. I wish I could have had this medicine then."
"We had run out of so many supplies," Thranduil recalled. "We stopped in the first woods we saw to gather herbs."
Harthadon yawned. "Seeing trees again helped just as much… I think I would not like to venture again from our kingdom, sire."
"Very well," Thranduil said indulgently.
Elluin finished tying off the bandage and stepped away, waiting to be dismissed. Harthadon's breathing shifted after a moment as he slipped into sleep, and she waited still. Risking a glance to the king's face, her heart broke to see the anguish in his eyes as he watched his soldier's face. She did not think he still felt that guilty about not reaching Harthadon in time to avoid his injuries — this was something more grave. She guessed it was the same thing that kept him from rest at home. Thranduil left the Land of Shadows, but not unscathed. The Dark Lord had been defeated, but her king did not have peace in victory. Perhaps he feared that the darkness could return and even reach Greenwood. She longed to ask him what fear threatened him, to aid him if possible, but it was not her place. What could she do? He needed to see the hope that remained to him.
Of course. She subtly cleared her throat and could sense the king composing himself, though she kept her gaze on the floor. "Sire, forgive me, but Harthadon sleeps now and our hosts will be missing you." Given her station, she was unable to pull Thranduil from his brooding, but his friends could. They had faced the same evil and defeated it together.
"Indeed." Thranduil rose with a sigh and turned toward the door. Before leaving, he looked briefly over his shoulder. "Thank you, Elluin." His light footfalls soon disappeared amid the sounds of the banquet.
Elluin stared after him, unsure of exactly why the king thanked her. But she was satisfied that he was drawn back to the light, for a time, at least.