Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 6: 

Anxiety

Isiwen nearly dropped the plate she was carrying, when she heard a low moan. Quickly setting it down on a shelf, she then wiped her hands on her apron, turned and strode through the little room to the alcove containing the only bed. Carefully she sat on the edge of the mattress and took a slender hand between her own, rubbing the back of it gently.

“Wake up, Master elf. Don’t be afraid. You are safe here,” she said softly. As another low moan could be heard, she repeated her low, spoken request while searching the pale face intently and at last, to her joy and surprise, the dark-haired elf slowly opened his eyes. What she had long hoped for she dreaded now. What should she say? How would he react to her, to his surroundings?

All anxiety, however, was gone as the eyes regarded her. Instantly she was taken aback by these intense eyes, albeit she winced in sympathy, seeing the pain and confusion that clouded the gaze. Instantly she was lost in those eyes. Never before had she seen such a gaze.

When the elf croaked something, she didn’t understand. She quickly poured a glass of water and held the cup carefully to the dry lips. Lines of pain crossed the fair features, as she lifted his head a few inches, to aid the swallowing.

With a sigh the elf sank back, but his gaze cleared somewhat. Again Isiwen was overwhelmed by these eyes. Letting his eyes wander over the unfamiliar surroundings the elf´s gaze settled on her again.

“What happened?” he finally managed to say. Only slowly the young woman realized that the elf had now spoken in her language, which came as another surprise to her.

Despite her curiosity and a little fear Isiwen smiled. “I don´t know what happened to you, but my husband and I found you down by the riverside nearly dead. You are in our cottage now. I’m Isiwen.”

The elf listened to the words, but Isiwen had the vague feeling that he did not fully comprehend what she had said. Vague and most disturbing images were swirling through his mind about floating in numbing cold water with bound hands and feet; desperately struggling and fighting against the current.

He recalled immense pain in his lungs as the lack of oxygen had forced him to struggle even harder to return to the surface of the water. He also remembered overwhelming panic at the sensation of drowning.

He dimly remembered the sharp rocks he was tossed against, but they had at last worked to his advantage by somehow cutting his bonds so that he was able to surface and take another desperately needed breath of air.

“Thank you,” he answered finally. “I’m Elladan.”

Isiwen inclined her head. “You are welcome, Elladan. I’m glad that you finally awoke.” The elf nodded, too exhausted to uphold the conversation any longer. Isiwen tugged the blanket around the slim shoulders. “Sleep, and the next time you awaken you will feel better.”

She sat there until the elf had closed his eyes and the even breathing told her that he had fallen asleep, and then sat there a bit longer contemplating the brief conversation. She had never before seen an elf much less spoken with one and was again deeply touched by this fascinating race.

She thought about eyes in which you could get lost, a melodious voice, and the ever-present touch of melancholy.  All of these things touched at her heart. Shaking her head to get rid of this drunken-like state she rose casting a last glance at the elf to make sure he was still comfortable and asleep.

Silently she did her housework not willing to disturb her sleeping guest. Already she dreaded the dawn-hour when it was time to change the bandages. She feared that there would be no improvement again.

Many times she looked out the window of the little hut hoping to see her husband return with help, but every time the silence of the wood surrounding the house greeted her.

Despite the promising moment that morning, the elf grew restless again. He moaned and thrashed in his sleep. Quickly she sat on the bed again and tried to catch the flailing limbs and sooth the agitated elf with whispered words of reassurance, but to no avail this time. He obvisiously battled against unseen foes and haunting memories she had no chance to chase away.

Isiwen’s worry mounted again. These movements would not help to improve the elf´s condition, but she had not the heart to restrain the fragile looking body too hard. With gentle hands she gripped his wrists and spoke soothing words again hoping to reach the dark place the elf was trapped in.

After her patient had stilled somewhat and seemed to have settled a bit, Isiwen took care of the wounds again and shuddered when she saw there was again no improvement. All of the cuts and scratches were still red and looked angry. ‘This should not be’, she thought. ‘Even a human would have shown some healing by now.’

Surely she was doing something wrong. Now she regretted her slim-to-none knowledge about the race of the firstborn. Did they not have miracle healing abilities? Or was this a fairy tale, like so many others?

She sighed, frustrated at being so helpless. Something was not right. That night she really feared for the elf’s life, because his fever rose to incredible heights and he lost consciousness again.

Tired and desperate beyond measures she pleaded: “Maren, please hurry. I cannot bear to see him suffer any longer.”

……………………………………………….

Many miles away Elrond, Glorfindel, the Ranger Dargost and ten of Imladris’ Guards urged their horses forward, in a hurry to reach their destination in time. For hours they had been riding without rest, the landscape flowing by. Dargost desperately tried to keep pace with the elves and their swift mounts.

He had not complained until now, but he knew that he could not keep up with this pace any longer. His horse would stumble and break a leg or he would be smashed against the next branch, so weary he was by now.

When the golden-haired Elf riding in front of him finally called a halt at nightfall, an audible sigh could be heard from the human. He could not have gone one mile further.

Not aware of the human´s predicament, Elrond started to protest. With a quick look at the ranger, Glorfindel brought his steed alongside that of his Lord and touched his forearm lightly bringing the dark-haired elf and his mount to a complete halt.

“Elrond, we must take a break. It serves no-one, if we stumble into an abyss at night in these mountains, and the horses are exhausted too. Let us rest until dawn and then continue.”

Only now the dark-haired Elf-Lord registered the tired features of the man and the lowered heads of their mounts. With a guilty look toward the ranger, who was clinging with shaking hands to his horse´s mane and an apologetic pat to the neck of his panting and tired horse, the Elf-Lord nodded reluctantly.

“I’m sorry. You are right, my friend.” Seeing the trembling of the ranger’s frame his guilt mounted. Laying a comforting hand on the rangers shoulder he tried to smile. “I´m sorry my friend, but…..”

Breathing deeply the ranger waved the apology away. “I’m the one who is sorry for slowing you down.”

“Never mind,” Elrond smiled. “We will rest until dawn.”

Glorfindel heaved a great sigh of relief, as did his warriors. He was as eager as Elrond to reach their goal, but he was also responsible for their safety; and racing along a mountain pass on a moonless night was not something he would allow, regardless of the reason.

Like his Lord, he was grieved that they could not reach their destination faster.  He let his warriors set up camp and assigned the watch.  Although he did not “order” everyone to rest, all those who were not otherwise assigned began to unroll their bedrolls and rest for the night.

Elrond was too restless to sleep.  After many fruitless attempts to coax his friend at least to lie down and rest, if not sleep, Glorfindel sighed and lay down himself, knowing he would not be able to find rest this night either.

At first dawn the golden warrior awoke from a restless sleep and looked around, surprised that sleep had at last claimed him. After they had all had a chance to break their fast he looked around and sighed when he spotted his friend impatiently waiting for them to depart.

Elrond had, of course, not slept a minute and Glorfindel felt a pang of guilt. Was he not also anxious to finally find out if Elladan was still with them?

No! He was as agitated and excited as Elrond but he must also consider the lives entrusted to him, including the Elf-Lord himself. If they met trouble on the way he would be rested and ready.

All these thoughts however left his mind when Elrond looked at him impatiently; his eyes were pleading and his body was as taut as a bowstring. Knowing that nothing could delay the Elf-Lord any longer, Glorfindel gave the signal to depart.

No sooner than the golden warrior had announced their departure, Elrond jumped on his horse to resume the dead race toward their destination with the hope in his heart that his worst fears would not be realized. Dreadful images had crossed his mind throughout the night and they had all ended in the same way. He would come too late...too late to save his sons.

 To be continued……………..