"Ada … Ada …. Ada!" The elfling cried and rocked back and forth, tightly clutching her Naneth's icy hands. The elleth no longer appeared to respond to the elfling's wails. They had escaped the tent of the Yavannildi and were huddled together on a cot in the unfamiliar encampment.
"Gellir! Aurmîr!" Oropher enfolded his wife and youngest child in a tight hug. His daughter erupted into tears and loud sobs while his wife stared straight ahead, strangely unaware of the presence of those around them. He tried to reach out with his mind. "Gellir! Gellir, all is well. Come back to me!"
"Look out for your daughter, while I assess the Lady's state, my Lord," the healer whispered.
"Shhh, my treasure, Ada's here!" Oropher pulled his daughter fully into his arms, covering her brow with kisses even as he rubbed her back soothingly. "All is well, dear one. You are safe."
"Elves with swords." The child sniffled and gasped quietly, suddenly behaving half her age. She clutched at her Adar's tunic and buried her face against his shoulder and neck. It tore at his heart to see his beautiful half-grown daughter in such distress.
"Our warriors have taken care of them. They will not harm anyone again." Oropher promised.
"The White Lady?" The elfling sobbed, horrified by the thought of their savior dead. "She fought them. Blood! ….She was bleeding."
"Lady Galadriel is well." He lied as he tried to push his cousin Celeborn's anxious eyes from his mind. "The healers are fixing her hurts now. She will be fine in no time."
"Nana?" She wailed again.
"How was Naneth hurt? Help us understand so we can help her." Oropher whispered soothingly against Aurmîr's golden hair.
"They wanted to hurt Queen Indiriel. Naneth pulled her away, and Lady Galadriel blocked their sword with a kitchen iron. They shouted for us to run." She trembled and shrieked. "Ada! There he is! Do not let him hurt me!" Oropher jumped up and scanned the room. But there were only the healers and other ellyth.
"Aurmîr, there is no one here who would hurt you." Oropher picked up his screeching daughter. "Come, let us sit in the sunshine."
"That is a wise suggestion." The healer motioned to his colleagues
XXXX
"Hail Oropherion!" The guard greeted the returning noble sons. "Your Adar sent word to join him immediately in the square before Aran Finarfin's pavilion." The sun had long since passed over them and was now meandering its way down towards the horizon.
"Is there a problem?" Andapher gasped, always the most volatile of Oropher's sons.
"Nothing to be spoken of in the open," the guard warned, although his face betrayed no sign of worry. "We will care for your horses."
"Elrond?" Thranduil nudged his friend slightly. The Peredhel dismounted but appeared dazed and weary. "Will your steed acquiesce to another's care?" In response, Elrond whispered and gently stroked behind the stallion's ears. The horse nuzzled his elf's other hand in obvious concern
"Thank you, Braigsûl." Thranduil caught the mumbled words. "Yes, I think he will be fine. Shall we head to see your Adar?"
"No, you are going to talk to the healers," Thranduil ordered. "Then you will meet us for dinner. Do not be late. Once they clear away the food, there is no way to convince them to open their cupboards."
"You best believe him, elfling!" Orodiun teased. "He has argued with the cooks on several occasions. I must say that the current rations are not enough for a grown elf." Elrond blinked in confusion, and Thranduil grabbed his shoulder, pulling him nearly eye to eye.
"You will visit the healers and then meet us for dinner." His voice had an extra, almost hypnotic quality, and the guards stepped back to break the spell.
"Healers, then dinner." Elrond repeated, mesmerized, then turned and walked deliberately towards the nearest healing tents, which happened to be the elven healers allied under Gil-Galad. The Peredhel had spent most of the war leading and teaching the healers of the Edain, although he occasionally traveled to Gil-Galad's camp to confer with the King's Master Healer. He noted with some chagrin that the healing tents were strangely lacking in healers. Only a few anxious voices were audible.
"The Teleri's wound has reopened. I can not staunch the bleeding." The silver-haired Elleth's voice trembled.
"Where is Master Mornur?" The other apprentice asked.
"I can not find him!" The young elf's voice rose in anxiety.
"Who is bleeding? What type of wound is it?" Elrond interrupted. The two apprentices turned and gaped at him in surprise. "Who is the Master healer on duty today?"
"Master Mornur is on duty, but we have not seen him for several hours. There was an attack and many healers were called to attend to the injured."
"Take me to the patient," Elrond said to the elleth, then turned to the ellon. "Try to locate the healer."
Xxxxxxxxx
"What could have happened?" Orodiun worried as he and his brothers hurried towards Finarfin's encampment. Their worry waxed when they were detoured away from the lembas preparation area situated between the camps.
"This way Oropherion." One of the guards directed them past the security checkpoint.
"Since when is security required within the camp?" Thranduil asked.
"Since assassins programmed by Morgoth sought to eradicate the Yavannildi." The brothers turned to see Finarfin's seneschal. "Your Naneth and sister were not physically wounded. But they need your care."
"What!" Andapher exclaimed, but the regal Noldo motioned for quiet as he led them forward.
"Speak softly, Oropherion. Many were unsettled by this attack, and it seems that in the darkness, Morgoth has wroth a new weapon designed to inflict despair upon the mind. I think your Adar could use your help to calm your sister." They meandered around blankets spread out in the open square. Distraught elves were being calmed and soothed by their kin. The soft singing and chanting carried melodies of hope and joy.
"Naneth! Adar!" They cried together.
"Ion-nin," Oropher looked weary beyond words. Their Naneth leaned against him, her straw-colored head resting wearily on his shoulder. Their sister was curled asleep in his lap, a sight not seen in a decade. "I was counting on your return." Thranduil bent and ran his hand over his sister's forehead. Her skin was heated, and her dreams were obviously disturbed.
"Thranduil, your skills are more developed than those of your brothers. Can you guard your sister's dreams while I rest and focus on your Naneth?"
"Of course, Adar." Thranduil sat and readied himself to receive his sister.
"I am fine." Gellir protested, although her cloudy eyes spoke volumes in opposition to her words.
"Humor me, my Love." Oropher transferred his sleeping daughter into her brother's awaiting arms. Then he pulled his wife onto his lap and kissed her brow. Her cheeks redden at this public display, for they had always been a private couple.
"What is this weapon of Morgoth?"
"Finarfin believes it is a mind weapon. It instills fear much like when a fallen Maiar, dragon, or balrog comes near, but it is more intense, perhaps because it has a Vala's power behind it."
"Do you suffer from this, too, Naneth?" Andapher sat next to his parents and grabbed his Mother's hand.
"Do not fear, your Adar called me back from the dark dreams." She mustered a weak smile. "But my mind is more developed – more protected than my little 'mir'." She focused on the golden head now tucked against Thranduil's chest.
"But your Naneth was far closer to these foes."
"Not so close." She protested.
"She helped to pull the Queen out of danger."
"It was Galadriel and Niphendriel who saved us all." She disagreed.
"It was the combined quick action by the three of you."
"Niphendriel? Is she all right? And Calimdriel?" Orodiun gasped in worry.
"Your future Mother-in-law is one brave Lady," Oropher announced. "Apparently, Galadriel blocked the first sword blow with an iron trivet and dealt the attacker with a swift kick to the groin. His companion was fast on his heels, and while he was trying to dispatch the Lady of Light, Niphendriel wielded a pot to finish off the first foe and threw his sword to Galadriel. Your Naneth and Niphendriel stewarded the ellith out of the tent."
"It is over, Naneth," Andapher repeated as he squeezed his Mother's hand. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she had begun to tremble ever so slightly during the retelling of their ordeal.
"You are safe, beloved. All will be well." Oropher focused soothing thoughts towards his wife. The brothers exchanged worried looks as Adar and Naneth shared their thoughts in private. Orodiun stood and surveyed the area.
"I do not see Calimdriel." He noted in worry.
"She is in the healing tents in Finarfin's camp," Oropher whispered. "You should go to her."
"She was injured?"
"Not physically, though she and her Naneth were exposed to this darkness. But her brother was one of the two guards outside the tent."
"Erestor!" Andapher gasped.
"He and Durgin were badly wounded. But of the six attackers, only two made it inside." Oropher stopped at his wife's sob. Around them, healers were carrying steaming trays. "Orodiun, bring us all a calming tea before you go in search of your betrothed."
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"I found the Master healer." The ellon's voice was fearful. A moment later, Mornur burst into the tent.
"Who are you? What business do you have touching my patient!" The healer snarled and advanced on Elrond. The weary Peredhel was washing his hand. The smock he wore was streaked with blood from the surgery.
"You patient would be dead had I not operated," Elrond said evenly. The apprentices openly quailed at Mornur's tone.
"Elfling!" Snarled Mornur as he threw a spectacularly off-target punch. "You are not qualified to operate nor speak in such tones to me. I was a healer in Doriath before your parents were even a thought." The two young apprentices stood cowering at the tent's entrance.
"You are not qualified," Elrond interjected. Mornur raised his fist to throw another punch, but Elrond caught his hand. Silver eyes flashed with anger. The drunken healer let out a cry of surprise and sobered as a burning pain passed momentarily through him.
"It is you who will be reprimanded. I can smell the alcohol on your breath. As the Master healer on duty, you are not allowed to leave the premises, not to mention the trouble you are in for imbibing alcohol while on duty. Your patient was hemorrhaging and would have bled to death had I not operated."
"You have no authority over me!" Mornur yelled. Elrond seemed to grow in stature and fixed the healer with a stare remarkably like King Elu Thingol.
"I am well within my rights as a healer and as one of Aran Gil-Galad's house. You will sit down quietly here and wait for one of the Master Healers to judge you." Mornur jaw fell open slightly at the Peredhel's tone. For a moment, there was silence before the drunken elf nodded and sat obediently. Elrond approached the two apprentices, who stood gaping at him in awe.
"My Lord." They stuttered. Elrond turned to the elleth.
"Nimbrethil, find one of the other Master Healers and inform them of what has happened. Tell them that there are only apprentices on duty. They will come immediately."
"Yes, my Lord." Nimbrethil bowed and quickly departed.
"We best see that no other patients are in distress. What is your name?"
"I am Calellas, It is an honor to meet you, my Lord."
"Will you accompany me?"
"Of course, my Lord," Calellas said
XXXXX
"Forgive me, Master Beteg." Mornur bowed his head in shame.
"Forgive you? You have endangered the lives of many by your careless disregard for our rules."
"There were ample healers here when I left!" Mornur's eyes flashed belligerently.
"You were the Master healer on record. There was an emergency, and many were called away to aid the wounded. If coincidence had not brought the young Lord to us, you would have been responsible for several deaths!" Beteg threw his hands up in exasperation as he waved to the guards to collect the drunken healer. "Then to threaten one who is both a skilled healer and a noble Lord! I will leave judgment to our King Gil-Galad!" Beteg looked up as his trusted right hand entered.
"Meridel, what news?"
"We have completed rounds and are watching two difficult cases closely."
"And Elrond? Surely, he came here for a reason? The King ordered him to rest away from healing duties."
"He is weary, and I sense a deep hurt. I hurried him away to see if he could make the last ration serving." Meridel's eyes mirrored his concern, but he could not express his intuition in words.
"You feel it is not the same as what plagues Master Noenri and the others who toiled too long." Beteg guessed correctly.
"I told him that you would visit him later tonight. Please forgive me, Master Noenri. It was too busy here. Whatever troubles the young Lord, was not something I could easily diagnose."
"That is astute, Meridel. But the best practice would have been to keep him here for observation."
Xxxxxxxxx
"Please excuse me." Manveru immediately straightened as he saw his King emerge from the tent. He quickly walked to greet and apprise him of the current situation. "How does your daughter fare?" Aran Finarfin's face was unreadable.
"One does not just imagine seeing the Lord of Mandos? Did one?" Finarfin mused as he tried to push his worries aside. He drew in a deep, calming breath. No, he could not discuss the tense hours of surgery or his own fear that she had lost too much blood.
"She is stable for now." He acknowledged as he clapped his seneschal's arm. "How are the others?"
"We have gathered most of the elves affected by this darkness in the square." Manveru waved his arms to indicate the crowd. His King appeared to only now perceive the gathered throng.
"The two guards?" Worry painted Finarfin's face. His daughter greatly cared for one of the guards, the unfamiliar name burst into his head. "Erestor?"
"The healers were still operating on both guards," Manveru informed him, shuddering slightly at the memory of the gristly scene. It could have been much worse had not the guards been able to hold off four of the six attackers.
"It could have been much worse." Finarfin agreed with his Seneschal's unspoken words. "Never let any denigrate my great grandson's guard."
Xxxxxxxxxx
"He has lost a great deal of blood," the ancient healer said soothingly in high Quenya. It took Niphendriel a few moments to comprehend the statement and several more to formulate her question in the foreign tongue.
"But he will live?" she asked, tightly grasping her daughter's hand. Orodiun moved to put his arms around both of them.
"He came through a very difficult surgery, and we must watch him carefully tonight." The healer sought to mitigate the fear that surfaced in these dark elves' eyes. They were so different than the elves of Aman yet no less brave. "I believe he will have the strength to live. We should know for certain tomorrow. My staff is arranging for cots and chairs by his bed. Your presence will likely be of great comfort and aid to him."
"Thank you." She whispered through the tears that were pouring down her cheeks. Her heart knew then that her son would live. Calimdriel embraced her Mother as both trembled in relief. Orodiun guided them back into the waiting chair.
"Thank you." He mouthed to the healer, who inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Xxxxxxxxxx
"No, we have put away the food for the evening. You are just trying to finagle more than your share!" One of the cooks irately yelled at a dark-haired elf. "Everyone knows they must come during the meal hour or else they forfeit the meal."
"We have just lit the bonfire, Sire." Manveru followed his King's gaze to see a young elf, clearly of Noldor decent and nobility by his dress, gazing silently at the cooking staff.
"It is your own fault! Next time, you will take better care!" The worker huffed in dismissal, then turned to clear the tables with his partner. The dark-haired elf shuffled back a few feet before crouching wearily to the ground, obviously bewildered.
"Manveru, please bring some lembas?" Aran Finarfin ordered as he turned to approach the seated elf.
"Earendilion, are you well?" Finarfin bent to observe the youth more carefully. Exhaustion and confusion dimmed the silver eyes.
"My Lord?" Elrond replied as he squinted. "Have we met?"
"I have spoken many times with your brother, but no, we have not yet had the pleasure." Finarfin helped the weary healer to his feet.
"Aran Finarfin?" Elrond reddened in embarrassment. Elrond would have bowed, but Finarfin held him firmly. The staff gaped at the amazing sight of a King assisting the young elf.
"We heard you were pressed into service in the healing tents."
"I only did what was needed." Elrond shrugged nonchalantly.
"Perhaps you might aid us in singing songs to lift the spirits of those exposed to what Lord Glorfindel has named the black breath. But first, you must have some nourishment. There is Lord Manveru with lembas now."
"My Lord." Elrond turned confused by the King's description of the black breath.
"Lord Elrond Earendilion." Manveru bowed before the young elf as he banished a smile at the astonished faces of their onlookers. His King had deftly elevated Elrond with the simple gesture. The Seneschal presented Elrond with the wrapped waybread.
"Thank you, you are too kind." Elrond managed to stutter.
"Open and eat before you fall over." Finarfin directed as he guided the young elf to the bonfire. Elrond munched gratefully on lembas and soon found himself ensconced among Finarfin's councilors, seated in the place of honor next to the Noldor King.
"Lord Elros!" Finarfin called. "We have retrieved something of yours."
"Aran Finarfin," Elros bowed politely. He was puzzled by the teasing tone until he spied the beloved face. "Elrond! I checked the healing tents for you. Master Beteg told me what transpired."
"I only filled in as the situation required." Elrond willed calmness towards his brother.
"He was more than disrespectful. They said he tried to hit you."
"No need to overreact. I am more than capable of dodging a swing from a drunken elf." Elrond grimaced slightly and whispered. He could feel Elros' agitation and sought to defuse the situation. "What transpired? I heard there was an attack this afternoon and something about bad breath. Where was the attack?" Finarfin and Elros exchanged a long glance.
"Black breath." Elros corrected, smiling despite his agitated state. He took his brother's hands in his own. "Indiriel and the other Yavannildi are well, though they were shaken up." Elrond went white and felt his brother and the King sending healing energy towards him.
"The Yavannildi!" Elrond stuttered in shock as his brother and King filled in the details in whispered voices until a commotion interrupted their story.
"Ah, the musicians have arrived." Finarfin announced. Indeed, they came with harps, flute, lute, and drums. The soothing music soon filled the air with the lilting voices of a seated harp player and two standing singers intertwining in a playful melody. After a few soothing lullabies, the harpist stood and bowed to Aran Finarfin. The King rose and moved to stand near the bonfire. A handful of ancient elves rose to join him.
"Herutaurë (The Lord of the Forest)," Elrond whispered to Elros. The ancient elf nodded slightly as if in confirmation of Elrond's words. Then a beautiful chant, an ancient song of power, swelled around them, beating back the despair, fear, and darkness that plagued so many present. Indeed, though night had already fallen, the whirling song provided its own brilliant light. As if in a trance, the sons of Earendil rose as one and joined hands with Finarfin and the Forest Lord. Their matching tenors augmented the music, adding the healing song of their Maiar heritage. The wind swirled around, dancing joyfully to ancient songs of renewal, healing, and hope. Its golden glow touched the very faer of all who listened and banished the blackness from the corners and crevices where it sought to emit its poison. Slowly, the song diminished in intensity, and the chanting grew fainter until, at last, it ended. Others rushed forward to aid the exhausted singers back to their seats and healers quickly passed around restoratives, for songs of power consume much strength from the singer.
"Ion-nin!" Indiriel embraced Elrond as Ereinion kissed Elros on the brow. They nearly carried their foster sons to their seats. Elrond succumbed quickly to exhaustion and dozed in Indiriel's arms. Elros leaned heavily on Ereinion and could barely get a few words out, though he did glare back at the dark-haired harpist, who seemed to send either angry or anguished glares at Elrond and him.
"Rest, penneth." Ereinion soothed as he stroked Elros' hair. It was mere moments before Elros also succumbed to exhaustion. "You have given everyone a great gift with your song."
"They both have inherited healing gifts from Melian?" Finarfin sipped a second glass of Miruvor. He, too, was tired beyond exhaustion.
"So it appears." Ereinion smiled slightly at seeing his two Peredhil sleeping like elflings.
"Come, my King." Lord Manveru offered a hand. "Your bed awaits."