Some hours later, the lead healer finally left Arafinwë’s side. While the healer washed his hands and arms in a bowl of warm water, he spoke over his shoulder to Huoro and Guilin.

“I pulled four arrows from your friend’s body and stitched many cuts. He is very fortunate that you were able to bring him to a healer.”

“Thank you for helping him,” Guilin replied, shifting his left arm in its sling. “And for helping us, too.”

The healer turned, drying his hands on a towel, then walked over to Guilin and began inspecting the lord’s bandaged shoulder and the stitches on his cheek and leg.  “We were not properly introduced before for the need to see to your friend was too great. I am Curumaitë. What are your names?”

“I am Lord Guilin and the one dozing over there,” he nodded to Huoro’s sleeping form on the adjacent bed, “is Lord Huoro.”

“I have rarely had occasion to meet or speak with any of the Noldor, let alone anyone of the Minyai. It is strange to me to see how different you are and yet how similar we all still are. The exiled Noldor boasted of their superior intellect and that the strength of their bodies was greater than ours. I used to despise them for their haughtiness, but after examining you and your comrades, I must at least agree that you are healing must faster than I had anticipated. And I have treated enough elves to know how quickly one should recover from injuries.”

Guilin inhaled sharply in reply as Curumaitë expertly ran his fingers over other sensitive areas. “Not to worry,” the healer reassured. “The bones are bruised, but not broken. You will mend. I see that someone helped you bathe already. Fresh clothing will be brought to you in the morning.”

He arose and went to Huoro. Careful not to wake him, he examined the line of stitches across Huoro’s forehead and on his chest and hip. “I must say, Lord Guilin, that your armor of Valinor deflects much, but not everything. Your armor is not made after the manner of the dwarves like ours is. I noticed it was much lighter when I removed it from your friend over there. A Tatya would not have sustained injuries such as these,” he pointed to Huoro’s chest and hip injuries, “wearing our armor.”

He finished with Huoro who surprisingly still slept. Returning to Guilin’s side, he crossed his arms, staring down at him. “Your badly wounded friend over there may waken during the night. By what name is he known so I can alert the healer on duty?”

Guilin looked at him shrewdly, “I will be here should he awaken. I do not intend to sleep tonight.”

“You refused the pain draught we gave to Lord Huoro to stitch his wounds. You may yet wish for something to ease your pain. If you do then you may well be asleep when your friend wakens.”

“As I said, I do not intend to sleep tonight. And I do not think that Lord Huoro would have accepted the draught had he known how deeply he would sleep afterward.”

“Are you Eldai of Valinor more impervious to pain then are we? I heard your cries of agony when they stitched your wounds, Lord Guilin. I think not. As for Huoro, we would not have stitched his face so close to his eyes without him first taking the draught. My healers gave him little choice in the matter.”

Guilin scowled.

Curumaitë gestured toward Arafinwë. “Just who is this friend of yours that you are so protective of him? He obviously is of great importance to you – and to the enemy as well. Judging from the pattern of the wounds he received, I would say that the enemy specifically chose him as a target, perhaps desiring to incapacitate him so they could take him prisoner or so they could revel in his slow death. I have seen this before. Morgoth saves this for his most prized game.”

Guilin carefully schooled his expression trying to hide his surprise at this revelation of the wounding. “Healer, do not your friends matter to you? Would you not be willing to stay by a friend’s side to see to his health and safety and so that he might not awaken wounded and alone in a strange place? Such is my loyalty to my friends. Lord Ingoldo over there” –he carefully referred to Arafinwë by his mother-name –“is such a friend to me. He is also a warrior of great prowess. The enemy fears his sword and would like nothing more than to blunt its edges forever. My comrades and I do not intend to allow that to happen.”

Curumaitë considered Guilin for a while longer then asked, “Why do Noldorin lords answer to a lord of the Minyai?”

“The leader of the Vanyar saw that Lord Ingoldo was badly wounded and ordered us to see to his safety and commanded one of his trusted lords to help us get him back to camp.”

“This is not your camp.”

“No, “Guilin agreed, sighing in resignation. “It is not. However, Lord Ingoldo’s injuries have been treated skillfully and he now heals. I do not believe that we have completely failed in carrying out our orders.”

“The king of the Tatyai trusts in my skills to care for his wounded, including his own kin when they are in need. I do not think that the leader of the Minyai – would that be Ingwë? – should be disappointed in the care I have provided and will provide to one of his most valued warriors.” Curumaitë smiled proudly.

Guilin looked in wonder at the healer. “You personally serve the king of the Tatyar? What is his name? I only remember Finwë’s rule on the journey, but I was born in a forest along the way and not in Cuiviénen like my parents were.”

Curumaitë walked over to a table and began tidying the supplies. “The Bali chose Finwë to be the king of the Tatyai for the journey, however, his rule was contested by some who thought it should have gone to someone else. Finwë was a great leader, but he was proud and crafty and his wisdom could be clouded by personal interests. I heard how he put his own eldest son before the needs of his folk in Valinor, thereby earning his own death and causing the quarrelsome Noldor to rebel and go into exile with his sons as poor excuses for leaders and weak kings to guide them. Some of his line have acquitted themselves well, but still…Do they, too, not all lie dead and defeated, their folk scattered and huddling on an island waiting to be rescued by you and your armies from Valinor? Our king was equally gifted as Finwë, but less haughty and his wisdom more adamant toward the good of our folk. He has not forsaken us, nor we him. And he yet stands while how many generations of Finwë’s line rot in the earth –if they even received a decent burial?”

Guilin remained silent and thoughtful for a time, then said, “The leader of the Vanyar forces is High King Ingwë’s son Prince Ingil. And I hope that he will not be disappointed.”

Curumaitë handed Guilin a cup and filled it with water. “I shall endeavor to earn his appreciation for my skills as my own king appreciates them.

“This is plain water. If you intend to stay awake, then I want you to drink the contents of this pitcher. You have lost much blood and need to replenish it.” He placed the pitcher on a small table beside Guilin’s bed. “I am going to check on your other comrades. If I do not return to check on you shortly, then someone else will. If you need anything, call loudly and someone will be along presently.”

With a self-satisfied smirk, he patted Guilin on his good shoulder and left him alone with his comrades and his thoughts.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few hours after sunrise the next morning, Arafinwë finally roused. A newly dressed Guilin, garbed in clothes of the muted shades favored by the Tatyar, met Curumaitë at Arafinwë’s side.

“My lord, be still. Do not try to speak,” Guilin said as he placed two fingers over Arafinwë’s mouth when Arafinwë turned his head toward him. “Be at peace, my friend. We are safe.”

Arafinwë stared at Guilin questioningly as he tried to shake the oppressive fingers from his mouth.

“Be still. Please, be still,” Guilin soothed. “We are not at our camp, but we are some place safe. Do you understand?”

Arafinwë nodded and Guilin moved his hand away from his king’s face.

“You were grievously wounded in the battle and Prince Ingil ordered Lord Huoro from his personal guard to accompany us in leading you to safety. Séro, Ortírion, Calmon, and Sanarondo are here are well. These good folk found us and have seen to our wounds.”

He gestured to Curumaitë and the other healers in the room –Arafinwë silently following with his eyes. “They are of the Tatyar and, though they no longer call the Noldor brethren and do not hold the Noldorin lords as liege nor in high regard, they have helped us in our need.” Guilin paused and smiled reassuringly at Arafinwë’s suddenly concerned expression. “I told them who you are, Lord Ingoldo, and they hold mighty warriors in the same high regard as do we. Curumaitë here is their finest healer and has seen to your wounds personally. He even said that Morgoth’s servants must have singled out you specifically as someone to be taken down or captured, given the wounds you received. Apparently Morgoth fears your sword.” Guilin chuckled good-naturedly. “Who ever would have expected that?”

Arafinwë nodded in grateful acknowledgement to Guilin. “Who ever would have thought that indeed?” he quietly rasped, reaching out to grasp Guilin’s nearest hand. “Thank you my friend.”

“Lord Ingoldo,” Curumaitë called and Arafinwë hesitantly turned to meet his gaze. “I removed four arrows from you last evening. I need to change your bandages and then I want you to try drinking a bit before I give you something for your pain. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Arafinwë whispered. “Thank you.”

He lay quiet and still, occasionally stiffening and grimacing beneath the healer’s skilled hands. When Curumaitë started on the third bandage on his torso, Arafinwë suddenly turned toward Guilin, reaching out and grasping his shirt in panic.

“Does Prince Ingil know what has become of us?” he demanded.

Guilin took the king’s hand in his, gripping it reassuringly as he grimly shook his head. “No, my friend, he does not. No one knows where we are. We were well behind enemy lines when the High Prince ordered us to see you to safety. None of us escaped without injury. We wandered under Huoro’s guidance until these Tatyar –Tatyai as they refer to themselves –found us. We are deep in the forest in their settlement, safe behind well-guarded walls. Fëanáro would have delighted in talking to these folk, given the interesting manner of their speech.”

Curumaitë looked up from dabbing at the exposed wound. “I notice that you refer to Fëanor as neither prince nor king. Why is that? Was he not king when he died? Or did you acknowledge Fingolfin as king instead?”

Guilin drew himself up straighter, holding his friend’s hand to his chest. “Actually, I held neither as my liege for they both abandoned Valinor. I took Arafinwë, the wisest of Finwë’s sons for my king, as did all of us who stayed behind in Valinor.”

“It would be proper to name Fëanáro and Nolofinwë each with the title of king,” Arafinwë whispered in admonishment.

The healer scoffed in contempt. “You are a lord of the Noldor and you do not even know how to properly name your kings. As I told you before, Lord Guilin, the Tatyai have only had one king and have maintained our loyalty to him since we broke off from Finwë’s misguided following. Do you wonder at all why we do not acknowledge the Noldorin king as our own king when you yourselves are unclear as to who your kings are or were?”

Anger flared in Guilin’s eyes and Arafinwë twisted, hissing in pain as the healer resumed his ministrations much less gently than before.

Curumaitë stopped mid-swipe over the reddened, bloody stitches beneath his hand. “I am so very sorry, Ingoldo. I did not mean to hurt you.” He hurriedly applied a fresh cloth to stop the bleeding.  “I have heard very little to my liking about the Noldor since their arrival in Ennorath. I did not mean to take it out on you.”

Breathing heavily, Arafinwë settled back, squeezing Guilin’s hand tightly.

“Your comrades have been asking after you, Ingoldo. I will tell them that you have awoken. Is there anything else that you wish for me to tell them?” Curumaitë quietly asked.

“Yes,” Arafinwë panted. “Tell them… tell them that I am most grateful to them for their help and that their liege will honor them for their courage when I tell him what they have done.”

“You have the ear of the king of the Noldor?” Curumaitë dubiously asked in surprise.

“I do.”

“Good. Then when you return to your king, tell him to leave us in peace and keep the war away from our forest.”

“In all honesty,” Arafinwë commented, his breath coming easier now. “I do not think that the King of the Noldor knew of your settlement here. If it were within his power to keep the war away from you, I believe he would. However, Morgoth drew us into engagement in these lands, not the Valar nor Prince Ingil’s army. Perhaps, Morgoth knows you are here and seeks to rid himself of all of those who oppose him, no matter what kinship they claim?”

“Perhaps,” Curumaitë conceded. “Perhaps…”

When he finished changing the last of the bandages, he said “You are healing well, Lord Ingoldo, much more quickly than I would have anticipated. Living so close to the Belain has served you well – physically at least.”

Arafinwë smiled. “Thank you. If you should ever choose to come to Valinor, I am certain that living close to the Belain will serve you well, too.”

“I never intend to leave here, but if I should, I guess we will have to see how well it serves me.”

A small cup of broth and another of pain draught later, Arafinwë wearily settled himself to sleep, Guilin still sitting by his side.

“My king looks forward to speaking with you and your comrades when you are well enough,” Curumaitë commented.

“Thank you. I look forward to that meeting as well. By what name is your king known? I do not recall hearing the name of the leader of those who turned back and did not follow King Finwë to Aman.”

Curumaitë drew himself up proudly as he replied. “King Sulwë and his family rule the Tatyai.”

“Sulwë,” Arafinwë muttered to himself drowsily in Quenya as the potion took hold of him. “Sulwë…but atar said he was dead…”

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Eldai – archaic plural of Eldar

Belain - Valar

Atar – (Q) father