Disclaimer:  see chapter 1

Author’s note:

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

Chapter 12:  one up, one down

Elarinya watched hopefully when the Master of Imladris made her little son drink another portion of the antidote. She had the little boy’s head cradled in her lap and stroked his hair softly while fighting to hold her tears in check. The boy didn’t react at all, lying limply in her arms too exhausted to fight or struggle or simply cry. They had performed this procedure many times now, ever hopeful that the child would finally show some improvement.

Again long moments passed while waiting and hoping. The elfling was not the only one at the limit of his endurance. The dark circles under the Queen’s eyes gave testimony of the worry that burdened her heart. Thornil, the palace healer stood ready in case his colleague needed any help, his heart as troubled as the Queen’s. He knew that if the boy’s condition did not improve their fight was lost. Elarinya kept sitting at the head of the bed still stroking her son’s hair, while Elrond re-arranged his utensils on a chest silently conversing with Thornil.

Elarinya had come to the sick room from visiting her husband’s steward and gathering the latest news. The reports about the mysterious illness as well as calls for help still arrived in great numbers at the palace doors and this grieved her beyond measure. This was unlike anything the wood elves had been forced to endure in the past. The situation around the palace was eerie. No one dared to cross outside. The usually lively area around the palace was silent, muted, and devoid of life. A terrible vision crossed her mind…that all inhabitants of the great forest had already died. She let out a gasp and shook her head vehemently to get rid of this thought.

She knew that word had spread throughout the forest that the Master Healer from Imladris had arrived and was working on an antidote. Many of the wood elves again looked hopefully toward their King to eventually provide them with help, yet, for many of the families that help would come too late, and that was hard for her to bear. She could not imagine losing a child, yet many families had had suffered that very fate.

Having heard the gasp and guessing what thoughts had crossed the Queen’s mind Elrond laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Have faith,” he murmured, “I’m confident that the antidote will work. Those who are not too weak to struggle will pull through. His breathing is less laboured than yesterday. As soon as his condition stabilizes, I will begin to produce the antidote in larger amounts. We will soon be able to provide your people with the medicine.”

Nodding mutely and a bit embarrassed that Elrond had so easily read her mind she only squeezed the healer’s hand in gratitude. With the promise to watch over mother and child, Thornil had settled in a nearby chair. When Elrond was convinced that the elfling was resting he arose, determined to return to his work. However he turned sharply when he heard a gasp from the Queen now sitting on the cushioned window sill.

Alarmed he looked first at the elfling in fear that his condition had worsened again, but turned his head quickly toward the elleth when he could not detect any change in the child’s condition. Elarinya’s face had become unnaturally pale all of a sudden and her hand clutched her chest with a painful expression on her face.

Sending a bewildered look toward Elrond, Thornil sprung up and stood beside his Queen to aid her if she should collapse. “What is it?” he asked concerned, suspecting that the mother was simply exhausted and drained. Elrond however narrowed his eyes. This did not look like a mental breakdown. The lines of pain across Elarinya´s face were atypical and he suspected that she experienced not her own pain. While fighting for breath the slender body of Thranduil´s wife shook with silent sobs and after regaining her breath she confirmed the healer’s worries. “It’s Galadhion, something has happened to him,” she whispered.

The two healers exchanged a quick look. Deciding against pressing for further information from the already stressed mother Thornil held up his hand and sat down beside her in silent support hoping to get some information eventually. Elrond nodded his agreement and left the room silently. He did not need a lot of imagination to guess that something had happened to the Queen’s other son. He only hoped that the King and Glorfindel would be able to arrive in time to prevent the worst.

It was quite some time until Elarinya calmed down and relented to the request to rest although she insisted that she would stay with her youngest. Thornil spread a blanket over the exhausted elleth, reclining now on the couch beside the bed, and sat on the window sill keeping a watchful eye on both mother and son. He, like all others, could only wait until the rescue party would arrive.

………………………………………….

The mood in the little camp was downcast, the tension almost palpable. Even the trees’ songs were veiled, expressing their sympathy to the little group. The King’s guards had established the camp and distributed their watch duties. They would not let any harm come to their King or the other elves for as long as they were forced to stay here. The healer had immediately begun to treat the injured and provide the five survivors with all of the care he could make possible at the moment.

His main concern, however, was directed at the Crown Prince. Since their arrival he had not woken and he showed no improvement despite the healer’s efforts. He remained pale and motionless and the deep wound in his chest refused to stop bleeding altogether. Much more than the basics; cleaning the wound, applying an herb paste, and rebinding the wound, were not possible in this camp. If the injury had caused severe internal damage only time would tell if the young elf would survive.

After wrapping the prince in a blanket to help keep him warm, the healer directed an apologetic glance towards the worried face of his King. He was unable to do more at the moment. He knew that he did not have to explain the extent of the injury to his liege. Thranduil had fought in enough battles to be able to judge for himself the severity of a wound.

After having offered his help to take one of the watch shifts and being politely but determinedly refused, Glorfindel sat back with a sigh. He was not offended; he would not have allowed guests in Lord Elrond’s realm to share his duties. Silently, he watched the guards on watch duty vanish into the trees. He doubted that they would be bothered by orcs again, but one could never be careful enough and this was Mirkwood after all and not Imladris. Briefly he wondered how the situation was at home. Hopefully the illness had not reached the Valley.

After a while the golden warrior directed his gaze toward the King. Thranduil was sitting near the little campfire, his eyes closed and the head of his son cradled in his lap. He sang softly to the injured young elf while his head rested against the trunk of an old oak. Glorfindel looked curiously at the tree. He could almost feel the connection the tree had established with the wood elf. He was not unacquainted with the song of the trees, but not to the extent of the wood elves and their King in particular.

Glorfindel looked at the motionless youth resting in the King’s lap with concern. They had decided to depart by first light and this could be quite dangerous for the seriously injured Galadhion; but staying there any longer would guarantee his death. Glorfindel dreaded the journey back to the palace already. It was no short distance and there were still the orcs to consider. Another attack on this little group would be disastrous.

Seeing no task which could occupy his thoughts, Glorfindel tried to rest, but his thoughts strayed again towards home. He could quite imagine the chaos that would erupt when the illness reached Rivendell. Elrond had left some of the antidote, but it had not been altered such as the one they were now using here in Mirkwood. The unaltered serum would be less effective, maybe even useless. Additionally, the Valley’s Master was absent.

Having given up the fruitless attempt to relax, he was glad when the guards returned from their watch and the King immediately pronounced their departure. Glorfindel sprung to his feet and walked over to the King. Thranduil was whispering softly to his stallion until the great horse tossed its head and begun to kneel. Seeing the King’s intent Glorfindel hurried over to assist.

“Let me help you”, the Balrog Slayer said after he had gathered an approving nod from the healer who was helping Ruanal to mount. Glorfindel bent down and carefully lifted Galadhion into his arms. Nodding, the King sat astride his horse’s back and stretched out his hands. Glorfindel smiled inwardly. Thranduil did not even think about the resentment he had harboured against the elves from Imladris no more than a week ago. After Glorfindel placed his son into his arms the King tightened his grip careful not to add to the young one’s hurts while the horse got to his feet again.

When Glorfindel was sure that the King had a firm grip on the unconscious body he turned and grinned listening to the dispute Ruanal was having with the healer. “I’m perfectly able to ride unaided and certainly on my own horse,” he grumbled. Glorfindel had agreed with the healer that Asfaloth would bear the injured captain while Glorfindel would lead the horse to make sure it made no misstep. “No you are not,” the healer returned irritably with an indication at the new red spot on the younger elf’s leg. Sighing and lowering his head in defeat the elf nodded and handed Glorfindel the reins. Squeezing Ruanal’s good leg Glorfindel nodded at the captain. “Be grateful that you are able to ride at all,” he whispered with a sympathetic tone. Understanding the underlying meaning Ruanal looked guiltily at the back of his King holding his best friend’s limp body in his arms.

With a last look around, and satisfied that all the injured were mounted and the guards ready, the King gave the signal to depart. The dead had been placed upon the guards’ horses. The King’s warriors marched along the perimeter determined to prevent any more harm from coming to the desolate group.

…………………………………

Because of the slow pace they had to use the way home took more time than the King had anticipated and hoped for. For about the hundredth time he adjusted his hold on the limp body in his arms, his shoulders and back aching from the cramped muscles. The King grimaced. What was this small discomfort in comparison to the pain the injured must endure now?

When he looked into the pale face of his son’s captain riding on Glorfindel´s horse next to him he was almost grateful that Galadhion was still unconscious. He took a deep breath however when he felt the wetness beneath his hand which lay lightly over the bandage around his son’s chest. He knew without looking at it that the wound had begun to bleed again. He must soon decide if they should proceed with all possible haste or stop to let the wounded rest and rebind the wounds. Being well inside the Home Guards’ territory now he deemed a rest not overly dangerous apart from the time they would lose.

Catching the look from Glorfindel walking next to his horse they silently agreed that a short rest was necessary. Holding up his hand the King brought the procession to a stop.

Relieved sighs could be heard from the wounded, the guards however looked annoyed. The distance to the palace was short now, but they refrained from arguing with their King. Again with the help of the golden haired warrior Thranduil laid his son on a blanket and settled right beside him. The pallor of his son worried him beyond description. The bandage around the younger elf’s chest was now completely soaked with fresh blood.

The healer changed the bandage around the Crown Prince’s chest and Thranduil did not have to look at the grim face of the healer to know that the condition of Galadhion was dire. After finishing re-bandaging the wound the healer nodded toward his liege knowing that he did not have to speak about the severity of the situation.

Resting his hand lightly on the cold and clammy skin of his son’s cheek the King rested his head back on the trunk he was leaning against and received, gratefully, the sympathy and support the tree offered; but his heart´s ache could not be lessened. Regretting the words he had said to Galadhion tenfold, he now feared that he would not get the chance to ask for forgiveness.

Above and beyond that was the worry that plagued him about the situation at home. How was his youngest faring? Was the antidote ready for administering by now? If fate was cruel this day he would have to mourn the death of both his sons - one at home and one whom he was bringing with him.

……………………………………………………………

When the Master of Imladris silently entered the room of the little prince his face brightened immediately at the sight that greeted him. The boy was awake and actually tried to smile at his mother. Hearing the door open Elarinya turned her head and Elrond saw through the tears that streamed down her face the immense joy in the green eyes.

Smiling, he quickly crossed the distance and sat on the edge of the large bed opposite the Queen. The elfling looked at him curiously, not able to remember if he had seen this stranger before. “I’m glad you are better now, young one,” Elrond said while monitoring the little elf intently. “Hello,” Saeron replied a bit timidly still not sure if he liked these grey eyes looking at him so piercingly. Just in case he groped for the hand of his mother.

Chuckling, the healer laid a gentle hand on the child’s forehead. The fever was not yet gone but was at a tolerable level and the child’s breathing, although still laboured, was equally at a state that was acceptable. More worrisome to the healer right now was the frail condition of the child. The boy was dehydrated after many days of high fever and much too thin and weak to master the rest of his way to full recovery.

Silently watching and not really understanding the still concerned countenance of the Imladris elf the Queen looked questionally at the healer. “What is it?” she asked with a forced calmness, new fear rising in her chest. Winking at the elfling Elrond rose and guided the Queen a step away from the bed. “His condition is much improved, but he is not out of the woods yet. Make him drink as much as possible and try to feed him some broth. He will need his strength to fully recover and he must be watched closely. A relapse is not out of the question.”

Nodding and seeing that her son was squirming impatiently on the bed the Queen and the healer turned back smiling down at the elfling. Squeezing the arm of the Queen reassuringly Elrond turned and strode toward the door. “I’ve much work to do,” he whispered and exited the room after winking a last time at the elfling.

Elarinya sighed relieved. The antidote was now ready to administer. Elrond would organize the delivery with the help of the palace healer. This would bring change, and hopefully no more elflings had to die. Smiling she sat back on her son’s bed. “Nana, where is Ada and Galahon?” the boy asked, still not able to pronounce the name of his brother correctly.

Quickly masking her worry the Queen forced a smile on her face. “They will visit you soon, Saeron,” she replied while stroking her son’s flushed cheek softly. “You must rest now.” His brow furrowed the elfling clearly sensed the tension coming from his mother but he was too weary. He snuggled deeper into the covers and was asleep instantly.

………………………………………………….

Elrond looked up from his work when he heard a knock on the door. He was satisfied so far. He had produced a considerable amount of the antidote. Now he only had to decide how to bring it effectively and quickly to the sick.

He rose from behind his worktable and bade the visitor enter. He had hoped to see a guard informing him that the rescue party had returned but was surprised to see the palace healer Thornil coming into the room. He had intended to call for him but had not done so yet. His posture involuntarily stiffened. He already had a guilty conscience when facing his colleague. He could imagine how he would have felt if the situation had been reversed and another elf had done the work that he had usually been responsible for doing. 

Inclining his head toward the tall elf, Elrond waited to learn what had brought the palace healer to him. “Master Elrond, I’ve heard the good news that the young prince is recovering now and I wanted to express my gratitude to you. I’m in your debt,” he said.

Elrond relaxed. He had seen no ill feelings in the other’s eyes, only sincere gratitude. Stepping around the table he looked at the healer directly. “No thanks are needed. I’m only glad that all turned out well in the end, although the help came too late for many.”

Sighing Thornil nodded and lowered his eyes. “Yes, and that’s my fault. I’ve failed the King and my people.”

Understanding the other’s feeling all too well Elrond stepped closer and laid a hand on the other’s forearm. “It’s not your fault. This illness is nothing anyone of us has seen before. I was only fortunate to find the right cure in time. I’m sure the King will not blame you.”

Sighing deeply and not really convinced the palace healer nodded weakly. Drawing the other’s gaze again Elrond swallowed before he uttered the apology which was long overdue. “I wanted to thank for your tolerance allowing my presence in your domain.”

Furrowing his brow in annoyance the palace healer stepped back. “But it was a matter of course!” he said vehemently.

Elrond smiled. “I know it was not, but I thank you nonetheless for your words. It has made my stay here more pleasant than anticipated.”

Smiling back the wood elf relaxed too. Seeing this Elrond took a deep breath of his own and gestured back to his worktable. “In fact I would be glad for your help right now. The antidote is ready for administering. Have you any suggestions on how we could accomplish this?”

Smiling openly now Thornil nodded. “Yes I have. It is why I’m here.”

To be continued…………………….