Disclaimer:  see chapter 1

Author’s note:

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

Chapter 13:  joy and sorrow

Elrond dragged the sleeve of his tunic wearily across his eyes. He had been labouring for hours now to produce more of the antidote. At first he had underestimated the amount that would be needed. Not long after word had spread throughout the forest that a cure had been found, families arrived in great numbers at the palace with their sick children. Elrond leaned back while the memory of the first wave of giving out the medicine surfaced again in his mind.

There had been really chaotic scenes happening in the courtyard in front of the palace. Every restraint seemed to snap when children were concerned. Families who had known each other for centuries glared at others who had garnered a closer place in the seemingly endless column of waiting elves. Sometimes Elrond had to watch parents being heartbroken when he had to turn down aid to elflings who were already beyond his help. In those cases he had to deny administering the precious antidote and give it to others with more promise of success. Joy and sorrow lay so close together that it made him reel.

And then came the moment when the already produced antidote was used up and he had to announce that they had to stop treating the sick until more was available. He had many helpers of course but it would take some time to come up with the next portion; time that a few children did not have.

The wail that erupted on the lawn nearly took the healer’s breath away. The desperation was all too understandable but he was no wizard and needed time to produce more of the precious medicine. At first he had feared that the agitated mob would stop the riders that Thornil had sent out to distribute the antidote to more far away villages, but only desperate glares followed them.

Now he sat here hours later and tried to focus his tired mind on the task at hand. Without Thornil´s apprentices he would have never stood a chance to fulfil his task. Fortunately the great forest provided the healer with enough of the herbs and other ingredients he needed to produce more of the slightly yellowish liquid. A constant stream of young elves hurried between the forest and the palace to deliver the much needed plants.

When he looked outside the window onto the courtyard he noticed gratefully that the column of elves waiting to receive aid shortened with each new amount of the medicine he could provide. Only a few hours more and the majority of aid seekers would be medicated, at least for the time being.

After a brief visit to see “his” elfling he closed the door to the young Prince’s chambers pleased with the progress the child was making. He was sure now that the elfling would fully recover. If his other patients did equally well in response to the medicine he was confident that the plague would soon no longer be a threat to the inhabitants of Eryn Galen.

Sighing deeply and resolutely ignoring his body’s request for rest he dragged his feet over the floor toward his workroom knowing that much work still had to be accomplished. The sick could not wait. When he had nearly reached his room the clatter of many hooves sounded through the long corridor and he spun around. Judging by the raised murmurs coming from the courtyard he guessed instantly that the rescue party had returned.

His weariness forgotten he turned around and hurried toward the great entrance door. Halfway down the corridor he nearly collided with Elarinya coming around a corner. With an apologetic glance over her shoulder she did not even stop; too anxious to reach the arrivals. Elrond both looked forward to and at the same time dreaded what would await him at the courtyard. The reaction of the Queen earlier this day promised nothing good.

Reaching the many steps that lead down to the courtyard he stopped and narrowed his eyes when he observed the group that had arrived there. The waiting elves had parted to allow their King and his followers to enter the courtyard. The warriors surrounding the King looked curiously at the gathered elves in the courtyard, while the families, in turn, gazed at them.

Both groups did not comprehend at first what this commotion meant. The King however instantly recognized the meaning of the gathering and signalled his warriors to not disturb the administration of the antidote, motioning them a bit aside. The murmurs had died down when it dawned on the elves already gathered in front of the palace what procession they observed.

The healer from Imladris quickly scanned the newly arrived group and sighed, relieved, when he spotted his advisor. Glorfindel was obviously uninjured as was the King, but the sight of the other elves was all the more saddening. With sorrow in his heart he looked at the many wrapped bodies on the back of the horses brought home for their last farewell.

And then his look came to rest on the limp body the King so desperately clutched to his chest. The Queen was looking up at her husband with wide eyes barely able to hold her tears in check at the sight of her eldest son.

Elrond did not have to come any closer to tell that the young elf was gravely wounded. The too pale face, the limpness of the body and the bright red patch of blood on the young one’s chest spoke a clear message. The living members of the patrol sported varying degrees of injuries but no one except the Crown Prince seemed to be in a life-threatening condition.

Not wanting to displace the palace healers again he remained at the top of the steps while some of his colleagues with Thornil at their head rushed past him to receive the King’s son and the other injured elves. After delivering his son into the care of the healers the King dismounted and gathered his wife into his arms. Over the top of her head Thranduil observed the many elves waiting in the courtyard.

Seeing his hopes confirmed that the antidote could now be administered he took a deep breath and directed his gaze toward the healer from Imladris still standing at the top steps. With a light nod of his head he expressed his thanks with the promise to do this in a more proper manner as soon as the imminent business at hand had been handled.

After the King made sure that every injured warrior had been cared for, he walked over to the waiting elves and reassured them through either a gesture or word, promising more help as soon as it was available. Being comforted by the presence of their King the families calmed down with new hope in their hearts.

After bowing to Glorfindel and expressing his thanks; the King took the hand of his wife and mounted the many steps to stand before the healer from Imladris. Momentarily at a loss for words to express his thanks or even to ask questions concerning the antidote, and anxious to follow the healers attending to his son, Thranduil simply stood there staring at Elrond. Sensing the inner turmoil of the King Elrond only smiled and gestured inside the palace.

“Go, we can talk later,” was all he had to say to set the royal couple in motion earning a grateful smile from both Elarinya and Thranduil.

After Glorfindel had reached his side Elrond looked him over carefully again. Though not injured the warrior looked dead on his feet. No wonder Elrond thought when he noticed the dead that were taken away. “I’m alright, Elrond,” Glorfindel reassured, well aware of the scrutiny of his friend. “Sadly this cannot be said for many others. Galadhion is badly wounded. I worried he would not make it home.” Elrond only nodded when he looked into his friend’s blue eyes. “I also was afraid of that.” What happened out there?”

Taking a deep breath Glorfindel let his gaze wander over the still waiting elves in the courtyard. “We arrived too late. The battle was already over. The patrol had stood its ground and dispatched all of the orcs, but they paid a high price. We could only pick up the pieces.” The golden warrior directed a pained look at his friend. “I fear for the King’s eldest, Elrond. The injury looked bad.”

Elrond sighed in desperation. The positive news he wanted to deliver was without value at the moment, but he knew that Glorfindel had seen enough of the events unfolding in the courtyard to know them anyway which he confirmed with his next words.

“At least you have achieved your goal,” he said. Elrond looked up sharply when he caught the guilty note in his advisor’s tone. “You did what you could. Nothing is your fault, Glorfindel,” he tried to reassure but stopped when the elf beside him shook his head.

“I know but that does not make it any easier.” Elrond nodded. Saeron was out of danger and many of the inhabitants had been given reason for hope but the Crown Prince’s life hung in the balance now.  Maybe tonight they would rescue one life but lose another.

…………………………………………………….

The two Imladris elves passed the great doors leading into the healing ward and Elrond was just about to sternly advise his friend again to take his much needed rest, when one of the doors opened and revealed a frantic looking Thornil. Seeing the one he was seeking standing right there in the corridor, the palace healer strode directly toward his colleague. Seeing the open desperate expression on the other’s face Elrond swallowed, expecting the worst.

“Master Elrond,” Thornil addressed the other healer, “the injuries of the prince are beyond our skills. I wonder if you…” he trailed off suddenly aware what he was requesting. Thornil knew exactly how his King had treated the elf from Imladris and what Elrond had done so far to help the wood elves despite the rejection he had received.

Shame was clearly written across his face, over the fact of his own inabilities and the way that these guests had been treated. Thornil looked down. Elrond had achieved what he could not, and now he was asking for assistance again because he knew that the healing skills of the dark haired elf surpassed that of himself and his staff. Throwing his dignity to the wind and knowing that they could lose no more time Thornil looked up again. “He’s dying, we can do no more for him”, he nearly whispered.

Shocked by this bad news Elrond did not have to look into his advisor’s face to see the disagreement there when he stepped toward Thornil. A few minutes ago he had wanted to reprimand Glorfindel because he was still on his feet, yet at the same time denying that he needed rest just as badly.

“I will do what is in my power,” he stated and followed an already turning Thornil into the healing room. Swearing under his breath Glorfindel had no choice but to follow his friend; determined to prevent the Elf-Lord from endangering his own life.

……………………………………………………….

After entering the sick room right behind the two healers Glorfindel swallowed taking in the scene before him. Thranduil and Elarinya were hovering beside their son’s bed holding onto each other while they watched the desperate attempts of the palace healers to rescue their son’s life.

Glorfindel closed his eyes when he saw the great amount of blood all over the bed, the floor and the clothes of the healers. He did not have to be a healer to know that this was definitely too much.

The King’s face was a mask, in contrast to the tear streaked expression of his wife. Glorfindel´s heart ached for the couple because of the scene that was repeating itself before them. Again the parents were forced to watch as one of their children fought with death.

Seeing Elrond rush towards the bed, Thornil motioned for his helpers to step back and allow him room to get to the Prince. They had done what they could anyway. Only the superior skills of the Master healer could achieve something now, if even he could succeed. The King looked bewildered at his staff whereas the Queen’s eyes held a spark of hope when Elrond carefully sat down on the bed.

Thranduil only now recognized how precarious the situation had become. The presence of Elrond clearly indicated that his own healers could help no more. Not looking at the royal couple Elrond looked the young elf over carefully.

Judging by the ashen complexion and the rattling sound he could hear every time the Prince tried to draw a breath, he could tell that not much time was left. The sword that had stabbed the Prince’s chest had pierced a lung, resulting in heavy internal bleeding. The young elf was drowning in his own blood.

Elrond closed his eyes briefly. This injury was one he could hardly do anything against and so he did the one thing he hoped would at least achieve a lessened blood flow.

He closed his eyes, placing one of his hands on the heaving chest and the other one on the young elf’s forehead and sinking into a healing trance. Hopefully he could provide the weak body with enough energy to fight the damage done to it on its’ own.

Glorfindel stepped beside his Lord with a concerned frown on his face. He knew what would follow. The healer would pour as much healing energy as possible into the weak body and encourage the elf’s own healing powers to increase. This was exhausting at best and could be dangerously deadly for the healer in his current physical condition.

For a moment Glorfindel was at a loss about what to do. If he interrupted this now the Prince would die, but if he allowed this to happen then it was possible that Elrond might not be able to hold enough back for his own survival. He was not willing to risk that. Resolutely he stepped up beside the healer with a trained eye constantly directed towards him. He would let Elrond proceed as long as he was able to determine that the healer could handle it. At the slightest indication however that something was earnestly amiss, he would intervene – a life in the balance or not.

With a frown Thranduil looked between the Balrog-Slayer and the healer. Not familiar with this procedure he did not know why the posture of the blond elf had stiffened.

Elarinya seemed not to notice the silent exchange between her husband and Glorfindel. Her eyes were fixed on her son, fervently hoping that the dark haired healer would achieve something.

Even without knowing what was happening she completely trusted the dark haired elf. Not wanting to interrupt what magic Elrond was performing through his questions, Thranduil redirected his gaze at his son. Not more than two weeks ago he had tried to deny the Elf-Lord entrance to his realm and now, for a second time, the healer was the last chance one of his sons had.

While the time dragged on Thranduil could not get rid of the feeling that something was amiss with the healer. Elrond’s face had lost its colour and his hands had begun to tremble, slightly at first but with increasing intensity.

When the King looked up to demand an explanation from Glorfindel he nearly took a step back at the furious expression on the other’s face. The blond elf stared intently at his Lord with a firm hand on the healer’s shoulder. If he didn’t now better he would have sworn that he saw a surge of energy coming from the warrior’s hand and vanishing into the healer’s shoulder.

Before he could comprehend this, the healer moaned and would have collapsed onto the floor if not for Glorfindel. He quickly caught his friend before he could tumble from the bed. Elarinya let out a small cry of dismay when she realized how utterly drained the healer looked. He was barely conscious and holding onto Glorfindel to steady himself.

“What just happened?” the King demanded, in a sharper than intended tone of voice. His confusion and irritation was getting the better of him. Glorfindel did not even look up, fully concentrating on the swaying figure before him. After the Elf-Lord had regained some of his strength, Elrond looked up and addressed first the Queen and then the King. With a hoarse voice he looked back at the young elf on the bed.

“I’ve stabilized him enough that he hopefully will stand the night. If the wound does not start bleeding again then he has a chance to survive.”

Feeling unconsciousness tugging at the corner of his mind Elrond stood and turned unable to hold up a conversation much longer. Motioning for Glorfindel he walked toward the door closely followed by his advisor.

Opening the door for the exhausted elf Glorfindel looked back over his shoulder and was rewarded with two bewildered expressions. Resolutely he followed his friend out of the room while Thornil rushed past them toward the bed. Their questions would have to wait.

To be continued…………………..