To Lose Hope, is To Give Up

Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

 Author’s note:

Hello, I’m still new to this site and this is only my second try at fanfic, this time with a longer chapter-story. Don’t flame me, English isn’t my first language. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Erulisse. Lai

 Summary:

Great despair settles over the peaceful valley of Rivendell, as a tragedy strikes the Last Homely House and leaves the Lord of Imladris badly wounded.....

Rating:

PG-13

Title:

“To Lose Hope Is To Give Up”

 Author:

 Laikwalâssê

“He is gravely injured. I do not know if he will survive this night.” 

Chapter 6: Unexpected help

After ending his ministrations on his third prominent patient, Lord Erestor, Centhar stretched his aching back muscles, ready to collapse any minute himself. Looking around he was satisfied with the work the healers had done so far. They had laboured tirelessly throughout the night to attend any injuries and help all of the patients, including the three Elf-Lords, to be as comfortable as possible. The elf that Lord Elrond had tended earlier had finally died during the night, but no other deaths had occurred to mourn and Centhar hoped fervently that this would remain so. The help of Lord Elrond had been greatly missed, of course, but they had managed.

As he walked toward the tent entrance, he saw Lady Celebrían standing there, pleading with her eyes to enter. Not that she needed his permission, but she knew clearly that he wanted to shield her from the dreadful tasks they had to perform. Her face was pale and her features tired. ‘No wonder’, he thought, ‘I must not look any better’. As the young healer nodded, she brushed past him and sat carefully beside her husband on the cot. With a gentle gesture, she pushed a strand of hair from his face obviously disappointed that he was still unconscious.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Centhar waited until she looked up. “It´s better for him not to be awake. The pain would be unbearable.”

Knowing that the healer was right, she lowered her eyes, aware that her wish for her husband to be awake was selfish. Sensing her thoughts, Centhar squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and turned away to give the couple some privacy.

As he stepped outside he blinked, surprised to feel the first sunrays of the new day on his face. The night was over? He had not noticed. For a few seconds he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to relax a bit, but opened them quickly, when he registered the rustling to his left.

Turning he looked toward the house expecting the worst, but the fire had been extinguished and the residents had somehow managed to prevent the destruction of the whole building. The left wing where the fire must have started was greatly damaged, but it was surprisingly still standing even though much of the roof had come down. It remained to be seen if this part of the house could be used again or had to be rebuilt.

Sighing he let his gaze wander over the many elves sitting in front of the house completely exhausted from working the whole night. The hectic pace from the night had changed into something like apathy and an unnatural silence hung over the valley. It almost seemed as if nature was in mourning with them. Fearing the instability of the structure as a result of the fire, and since some of the embers were still glowing, no one could go and explore to make sure that all of the residents had managed to leave the house safely.

Being tired beyond measure himself, he straightened and walked back toward the tent, knowing that he could not give in to exhaustion; not yet anyway, when so much depended on him. The sound of hoof beats coming closer reached his ears and he stopped and turned around. Intrigued by the surprised murmurs from the elves around him, he squinted his eyes trying to determine who was arriving.

As the travellers came into sight, he could not suppress a gasp. There, in the courtyard, stood Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn followed by a procession of elves escorting some wagons.

He wondered fleetingly how this could be possible. The fire had happened only yesterday and no messenger had been sent out. Too tired to follow this train of thought or to recollect the ability of Lady Galadriel to foresee the future, he stood there immobilized.

Before, he had the chance to appear completely uncourteous and unused to this task, Lord Elrond’s assistant Lindir sprang to his feet and tried furtively to improve his dishelved appearance. He, nonetheless, formally greeted the Mithlond elves.

Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel returned the greetings, yet their eyes were fixed on the smouldering remnants of the house. Stopping Lindir´s flow of words, Galadriel laid a gentle hand on the younger elf’s shoulder. “Thank you for the greeting, Lindir, but who is in charge at the moment?” she asked softly.

Centhar swallowed. This question clearly indicated that she knew both what had happened and that Lords Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor were unable to wield authority at this time. Quickly brushing his hands on his apron, Centhar straightened and met the two elves halfway. He bowed as the couple came to stand in front of him, after Lindir had indicated that he was nominally in charge.

“I’m Centhar, my Lady, my Lord,” he managed to say. “I’m the head healer of Lord Elrond’s staff and in charge at the moment, I fear.” Not able to interpret their expressions, Centhar waited patiently for Galadriel to speak. However, before she could say anything they heard a cry from across the courtyard.

“Naneth, Adar”, cried Celebrían as she ran straight toward her parents. Elrond´s wife had not bothered to make herself presentable. She looked as exhausted and dirty as all the others who had been lucky enough to escape the inferno. Celeborn turned just in time to catch his daughter in his embrace and instantly, as the tension of the past hours left her, tears begun running down Celebrían´s face. Sending an anxious look towards his wife the silver-haired elf waited until the shaking of the slender body had abated.

“Celebrían, are you all right”? he asked trying to suppress his own fear.

Nodding, Celebrían tried to bring her voice under control. “Yes, Ada, but Elrond is wounded and…and…” she stopped as new tears welled up in her eyes. Looking over his daughter’s shoulder, Celeborn looked sadly towards his wife while stroking Celebrían’s back. Galadriel´s visions had come to pass, but to dread something and to see it were completely different matters.”

Looking up, Centhar braced himself for the inevitable question that would be directed at him. As Lord Celeborn looked at him, he nodded.

“It’s true my Lord. The Lords Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor are injured and not accessible at the moment.”

As a frown appeared on the Sindarin elf’s face, Centhar could make a good guess about what the older elf was wondering. How could it be that all three Elf-Lords were injured?

Again, Celeborn was interrupted, as another cry could be heard across the courtyard. This time, however, it was a high-pitched cry followed seconds after by a second, identical voice.

“Dearada, Dearnana!” Simultaneously Galadriel and Celeborn knelt to receive the running twins into their outstretched arms. Hugging their grandchildren close the couple briefly closed their eyes relieved to know that the boys were all right. Gently rubbing their backs and whispering soothing words in their ears, they each tried to calm the crying children.

Entangling himself from his grandfather´s loving embrace, Elladan looked up with wide eyes. “The house burned and there was so much smoke that we nearly didn’t find the way out, but Glorfy came and rescued us and then… then the roof crumbled and now I’m not allowed to see Ada”.

Celeborn smiled inwardly, as only the need for air stopped the flow of words of the youngster. Sensing the distress in the child, Celeborn sent calming thoughts until the emotional turmoil had abated somewhat. Galadriel did likewise with Elrohir.

“Your Ada is hurt and must rest. We do not want to disturb him, do we?” Celeborn admonished gently. With identical frowns on their faces both elflings nodded reluctantly, not really understanding why their Ada, the one who always comforted them, was not there.

Sensing his wife´s wish to get some answers, Celeborn set his elfling to his feet while Galadriel did the same with hers. Celeborn then took both elflings’ hands in his.

 “Come”, Celeborn said, “we have brought many supplies with us. Will you two help me unload the wagons?”

Torn between the wish to stay with their mother and the chance to discover what the wagons contained, the boys looked questioningly at their mother, and after receiving an encouraging nod both walked with their grandfather toward the waiting party of newcomers.

Turning serious again and wiping the forced smile from her face Galadriel addressed her daughter and the healer. “Where can I be of help? We have brought two healers with our group, if you are in need of their help, you have but to ask. Celebrían, will you show me where the injured are treated and perhaps we can prepare a breakfast for all.”

The silver haired elleth only nodded; already on her way to show her mother the way. Centhar bowed. “Thank you, my Lady. I will advise the healers and helpers.”

After the two elleth had walked away, Centhar heaved a sigh of relief. Knowing the capabilities of Galadriel, he hoped that things would progress faster now. He could now share the burden of responsibility and for that, he was grateful.

Following the path taken by the two women he looked over his shoulder and saw that the elves were already busy unloading the two wagons packed with much needed supplies. There were now many simple things that had been destroyed during the night and that nonetheless were needed urgently.

Before reaching the tent, he took a quick look around again, surprised at how calm and controlled most of the elves seemed to be. Yet he knew that their minds and thoughts were still ruled by shock. Until now, most of them had not had the time to consider the happenings of the night before.

Entering the tent, he smiled in surprise to see Glorfindel awake. His smile faded as he recognized how pale the golden warrior looked and that fine lines of pain were upon his face. When Glorfindel saw the healer, he struggled to rise but grimaced as his body betrayed him. Centhar quickly crossed the distance between them to avoid this foolish act and to save the councillor from further injuring himself.

“Please, Glorfindel, don´t move, you must remain abed,” Centhar ordered. Knowing that the healer was right, Glorfindel relented and leaned back with a sigh.

“I’m glad to see that you are awake now,” Lady Galadriel addressed the elf. Glorfindel blinked, the only indication that he was surprised to see Galadriel there. Inclining his head respectfully towards the Lady, Glorfindel redirected his gaze at Centhar.

“How are Elrond and Erestor?” he asked trying to find a more comfortable position.

Sighing the healer knew that Glorfindel would never back down until he had his answer. “Their injuries are severe and they have not woken yet, but they are stable at the moment“, he answered purposefully concealing that the state of Lord Elrond was much worse than Erestor´s.

Receiving a sharp gaze from Galadriel, he knew that she at least had seen through his attempt to calm his patient. Glorfindel however nodded reluctantly, temporarily satisfied, but he had only to look at his friend lying right next to him to know that the healer did not want him to get upset.

With a concerned expression on his face, Glorfindel looked back at the healer. Centhar cringed, knowing what this gaze meant. If the Elf-Lord’s condition worsened, he did not have the power to do anything against it. Elrond was the skilled healer and Centhar’s own skills were far from matching the Elf-Lord’s.

Galadriel’s purposeful coughing jerked him back from his musings. “Do not despair yet”, she said to both of them in her low voice. “The future is in motion and nothing is sure yet.”

Centhar frowned, not able to catch the meaning of her words with his tired mind, yet the golden warrior seemed to relax a bit. For the second time the young healer was jerked from his wandering thoughts when Galadriel laid a hand on his shoulder. “And you, young one, should rest also, before you fall over.” As if her words had a hypnotic note, Centhar only nodded and he walked to a cot and was asleep, before his head touched the pillow.

……………………………………………………….

When he awoke, he sighed contently and felt truly rested. He heard birds singing and the distant rumble of the Bruinen. He blinked, looking drowsily at the tent canvas. A light breeze ruffled the linen material… Tent….what was he doing in a tent?

Suddenly he jerked upright, as the memories connected him with reality. Frantically he searched around and gasped, as he looked at the empty cots to the left and right of him. What had happened to all the patients during the short time he had slept?

A short time…how long had he slept? He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his foggy mind while jumping to his feet. He groaned, as he was forced to sit back on the cot. The world spun quickly before his eyes, and the floor was very determined to meet his face. Having enough knowledge as a healer, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths to overcome the nausea that rosein his throat. After his body had convinced him to take it a bit more slowly, he staggered to his feet and felt instantly that his rest was not as sufficient as he had initially hoped.

Emerging from the empty tent, he was surprised by the activity that greeted him. Many elves hurried back and forth clearing burned debris from the area directly around the house and taking an inventory of the many items that could still be used. A few elves carefully checked the structure of the main beams that had survived the fire and tore down the hopelessly burned ones. Other groups on the lawn searched through the items the residents were able to grab during their flight. The young healer was surprised by how many things could still be used.

As he spotted Glorfindel among a group of elves already busily planning to reconstruct the roof of the side wing, he groaned. The elf-Lord was surely far from fit enough to work and the angry red patches on his bare upper body indicated that clearly. Centhar also knew that trying to stop Glorfindel would be futile.

Sighing he turned, determined to find out where they had brought all his patients.

To be continued……………………..