Chapter 6: words we never wanted to hear

With a last look at the remnants of the still smouldering pyre, the Lord of the Last Homely House closed the front door with a silent thud. It was almost morning with the promise of a glorious day but this prospect did not bring any peace to his heart.

He was weary beyond the body now. He had led the ceremony of the burial, had delivered his condolences to every family who had dead to mourn and visited with the warriors. Three times he had checked on his Troop Commander; whenever he could afford to be absent from his other duties.

He knew, even without the constant reminders from his sons, that he had to rest soon or his body would shut down. This was what he was doing now: functioning. He felt awful, so tired that he feared he would not find rest without using outside methods to force his body to sleep. He felt weighted down and was worried about his exhaustion. It was so extreme that it frightened even him.

However, he could not grant himself rest now. He swallowed another dose of a drug that would keep him upright and allow him to stay at his friend’s bed side until he was sure that the elf would pull through.

He silently slipped into the room where the warrior was lying. He inclined his head at the ever present healer sitting next to the bed.  The quiet sigh of his colleague told him that nothing had changed. Calming his thoughts, Elrond directed his senses towards the still body on the bed.

With his eyes and ears he could detect the slow rise and fall of Glorfindel’s chest. This was satisfying, but only a sign that the vegetative nerve-system was still functioning. It was no sign of real life.

For that he had to probe deeper, had to extend his senses beyond the visible. He brushed the surface of the wounded elf’s fëa but could detect no trace of conscious thoughts. Seeing what his Lord was going to do, the young healer silently left the room.

Determined, the Elf-lord burrowed deeper in search of the place where the spirit of his friend had retreated to. He was determined to reach the fëa and guide it back to the light. He wanted to be the beacon the fëa needed to return to the surface again.

His advance however came to an abrupt halt when the dark shadow he had felt before blocked his view of the consciousness he wanted to reach. The dark clouds swirled around the elf’s mind imprisoning it and darkening his way to awareness.

The Elf-lord increased his mind’s power to lift the black curtain from his friend’s mind but was repelled so abruptly and viciously that he physically stumbled backwards, slamming his back against the wall.

He stared incredulously at the body on the bed and instantly he knew what had happened. His weariness in both mind and body had weakened his healing strength so much that he was unable to remove the imprint on his friend’s fëa. It had anchored itself there firmly.

Taking a deep breath Elrond walked to a chair beside the bed in real need of a seat now. His whole body was shaking from the exertion and the shock. Clearer than any words could have made it he understood now that rest was imperative.

If he was to help his friend then he would need not only his healing power but also his mental stability to remove the shadow lingering on the fëa. Once the evil was removed, the body would heal.

Just when he was about to rise and call for a healer to relieve him his sons entered the room with worried expressions on their faces. They had, without a doubt, felt the mental backlash and had hurried here to investigate what had happened.

Before they could even ask the question he was much too tired to answer right now; he opened his mind and dropped his guard to let them see what had caused the mental tremor.

While a stormy expression of disapproval appeared on the older twin’s face, the younger twin’s face showed concern for his father and the warrior. Yet before either of his sons could say anything, the Elf-lord rose and walked around the bed.

“I have to rest, my sons. Please stay with him and fetch me should anything worsen.”

Hearing their mental approval while seeing that their faces were stunned speechless, the Elf-lord kissed each forehead and turned without another word. When the door clicked shut behind him, the brothers looked at each other in surprise. They had braced themselves for a battle and had won without even drawing their weapons. Yet they felt no satisfaction.

……………………………………

Nearly twenty hours had passed while the Elf-lord slept, too exhausted to even walk the path of dreams. His sons had made sure that no one dared to interrupt his rest. The brothers had feared for their father’s mental health and were more than relieved that he had seen reason and taken their advice.

At the same time, they had prayed to the Valar that the state of the warrior in their care did not worsen to a degree they could not handle, where they would be forced to waken the Elf-lord.

To their relief the condition of their mentor had not deteriorated, but, and this filled their hearts with dismay, his state had also not changed. He was not getting any better. The tall elf had not moved an inch since Elrond had left.

The twins and the other healers had changed bandages and applied salves. While caring for him they had carefully shifted the body into different positions to avoid irritated skin areas. But every time when they settled the limp body back onto the mattress it stayed immobile, not making the small movements that a healthy body would do every so often.

When it was their shift to watch over the prominent patient again, the twins took up their duty; determined to prolong their father’s rest as long as possible. Elrohir was sitting at the bed’s edge and softly singing to the warrior while holding his hand.

Elladan sat on the window sill and stared down into the courtyard. He did not know why, but today he could not swallow his anguish. Every time they had walked into the room with the same hope in their hearts: to open the door and be greeted by open eyes and the smile they had grown to love.

It was long past time for that. The severe wounds had healed to a degree they could be comfortable with; even if the state was far from the condition it should be. Through some reason that eluded them the body refused to heal properly. Obviously the mind was too affected and blocked a complete recovery or, and Elladan feared as much, the elf had lost his will to live.

Sitting on the sill he pondered these dark thoughts while looking down at the front porch and listening to his brother’s sweet voice.

Life in Imladris had nearly returned to normal or it would have seemed so to a casual observer. A thick cloud of grief and mourning, only detectable by the sensitive souls of the elves, still hung over the valley.

The patrol was not re-established yet. No troop leader, and not even the Lord of this valley, had the heart to replace Glorfindel’s position yet. But a new patrol had to be assigned.

The gap in the circle of protection around the valley had to be closed. The enemy would not grant the elves their time to mourn and they had still not discovered what had cost the patrol so dearly and what was still threatening the road bypassing the valley.

Still deep in thought Elladan turned, startled, when he heard the door open. Relieved to see his father on his feet again, yet at the same time dismayed that the Elf-lord had not taken more rest, the older twin rose and walked over to stand next to his brother.

“Adar, we are glad to see you on your feet again….” the younger twin greeted their father but stopped short when he noticed the Elf-lord’s face.

Elrohir closed his mouth. He did not have to ask; the dark haired youth knew exactly why their father was angry and he did not have to wait long. With a disapproving look the healer gazed at both of his sons. “Why did you not wake me? It’s been over twenty four hours!”

Elladan narrowed his eyes when he felt the irritation and hurt coming from his brother. They had not expected any thanks for keeping watch for two days without leaving the warrior’s side; it was not needed anyway. But this reaction was out of place.

However, before Elladan could reply and much to his surprise, it was Elrohir who answered, calm and controlled. “We thought it best to grant you as much rest as possible. Though the patient’s condition has not improved, it has not deteriorated either and we deemed your presence not necessary. I’m sorry if we judged the situation wrong.”

Elladan swallowed and made a conscious effort to close his mouth. His little, tender-hearted brother, ever seeking to please, had just made it very clear that even he had boundaries that should be heeded.

The brothers were drained both emotionally and physically like their father and their short tempers were only a result of that. Elladan stepped pointedly closer to his brother while meeting the Elf-lord’s gaze, but where he had expected anger he could see shocked silence first; quickly followed by remorse.

Taking a deep breath the Elf-lord stepped forward and laid a hand on both Elrohir’s shoulder and Elladan’s lower arm. “Please forgive me my sons,” Elrond said with an unstable voice. “My words were poorly chosen and I’m sorry.”

Breathing in deeply in relief Elrohir briefly closed his eyes. Willingly he moved into his father’s embrace. “There is nothing to forgive, Ada,” he whispered before he withdrew. Elladan nodded his forgiveness and accepted his father’s squeeze on his arm.

While gazing at one another and exchanging more than any words could have, the three elves turned sharply when a moan came from the bed.

Stepping aside, the brothers made room for their father. The healer moved quickly towards the bed and perched carefully on the edge of the mattress. The twins stepped behind the Elf-lord and gazed, hopefully, at the pale face of the warrior.

Elrond took Glorfindel’s twitching hand gently into his and waited patiently to see if the warrior would regain full consciousness. He sat ready to guide the fëa back to the surface if it should be necessary, yet his spirit just hovered nearby so it would not irritate his friend’s mind.

They were thinking that this was another unsuccessful attempt when the warrior finally opened his eyes. The blue eyes focused slowly and the pained moan conveyed pain, confusion and desperation in the dull gaze that he trained on the healers.

Squeezing the hand he still clasped a bit tighter to let the warrior know someone was near, Elrond imparted some healing energy to calm the distressed mind. However as soon as the contact was made the warrior jerked his hand away and looked at the Elf-lord with an angry expression.

Elrond managed, through long experience, to hide his shock and surprise at the warrior’s reaction just in time. Yet it was not the reaction but an entirely different matter that had made him recoil.

Not fully comprehending what had just happened Elladan quickly made sure to steady his father should he faint when all colour drained from the healer’s face. Elrohir’s brow furrowed in consternation while he regarded the anger expressed on the warrior’s face.

Elrond quickly strengthened the barrier around his mind. The dark images he had glimpsed fleetingly while connecting with his friend’s fëa had caught him off guard. A few times he had seen the dark imprint on the warrior’s spirit but this was nothing compared to the black malice he had experienced now.

“Adar?”

“Glorfindel?”

The tentative questions from the brothers remained unanswered. His composure in place the Elf-lord furrowed his brow when the warrior turned his head away from the three faces looking at him with concern.

Elrond was just about to address his friend again when the warrior suddenly turned his head and gazed at the three peredhil with the same angry expression.

“I’m not dead!” was the statement that came out like an accusation. Ignoring the audible gasps from his sons; his face an unreadable mask now, Elrond looked sharply at the fair haired elf.

“No my friend, you are very much alive, thank the Valar!” he answered with a smile that did not reach his eyes. Still hoping that Glorfindel was making one of his jokes he was famous for, the Elf-Lord was quickly disabused of that idea. If he had expected relief on the warrior’s face he only saw sorrow…disgust?

Elrond quickly shook his head. He had to start thinking rationally again. His patient had just awakened from being deeply unconscious and had experienced a severe wound. Had his sharp mind and his experience deserted him?

He really should know better than to give credit to anything a person said after recently awakening from severe injuries. Such a reaction was unanticipated but not uncommon. The warrior was still disorientated and confused. What had he expected?

Determined not to let his personal feelings cloud his healer’s judgment again, Elrond looked into his friend’s eyes. But again he was taken aback. The dullness in the gaze which would have accounted for the strange behaviour had been replaced by crystal clarity.

“You should not have rescued me, Elrond Peredhil. It was not my intention to survive!”

To be continued……………………………..