Chapter 9:  time is of essence

The Master of Imladris stood on the window facing south. He had come to the entry hall of the fortress for some indefinable reason.

Again the series of experiments he had done in conjunction with the head healer of the palace had failed. There was nothing left for him to test anymore. All possible poisons from the animals native to this forest, including all spider species, had been tested. The only possible poison left was from the species of spiders living deep in the south near Dol Guldur.

Dol Guldur – again this dark patch on the map had shown them that, even if it currently uninhabited, it still was a steady source of evil. They had to remember that.

Thranduil had announced that he would send out scouts toward the dark fortress to ascertain if there was any additional activity or if some new leader had settled there.

Elrond and Thranduil were sure that the orcs were not intelligent enough to produce the new poison. They felt that there had to be a greater power at work here. Elrond shook his head in anger. Once again a new darkness was threatening the elves and they did not know where it came from or who was behind it. Elrond paced aimlessly. This was unsatisfying, very unsatisfying.

He had come to the entryway hoping that the search party would return soon. The poison of the red spiders was now his only hope to formulate an antidote. He only had to add this poison to the awaiting potion of the remedy to see if the antidote would work.

Thornil was away, dealing with an emergency. One of the kitchen staff had suffered a severe burning. Elrond was reluctant to proceed without the assistance and advice of Thranduil's healer.

Now he stood still looking out over the green in front of palace with an uneasiness steadily creeping into his consciousness. Blocking out his analytical mind he tried to explore where the feeling was coming from, yet after some time he still could not isolate it.

He let his senses expand out into the forest surrounding the underground fortress. It was similar, yet distinctly different from Imladris. He was unable to connect with the plants and animals around him, at least not in the way he did in his own sheltered valley.

The Song was present, of course, yet the trees in Rhovanion communicated differently. They were more vibrant and bursting with life, but they also guarded a hint of something darker and veiled that seemed cloaked or hidden.

`No wonder`, Elrond thought. Always have they endured the menace of dark evil in their midst'. Dol Guldur had changed and twisted the once pure Song of Iluvatar.

He started when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

“They will return soon. Galadhion knows his business.” Elrond turned and looked into the green eyes of the King. He did not doubt the skills of Thranduil´s eldest son, yet the bad feeling in his gut attested to something that could not be ignored.

“Come, my Lord Elrond, share some wine with me. It does not quicken time, yet it makes the waiting a bit more pleasant.”

Elrond smiled and followed the King through the hall. The two rulers had barely reached the opposite side of the great central hall when a side door suddenly opened and a captain of the Home Guard stormed in.

Seeing his king the guard hastened over and bowed deeply. After receiving permission to speak, the guard raised his eyes and looked straight at his liege.

“My Lord, the eastern border patrol was attacked by an unusually large number of orcs and….”

The King swallowed while the guard was still reporting and Elrond instantly knew why. Saeron, the King’s second son was the leader of this patrol.

“….two warriors died after receiving arrow wounds. My Lord, these wounds were by no means deadly, yet within an hour each of them was dead.”

Elrond’s head jerked toward the warrior. Now it had happened. The deadly poison had finally reached Mirkwood.

Thranduil stood frozen for a moment. He had also recognized the implications. The King was just about to issue some orders when the warrior spoke up again.

“Excuse me, my Lord but we have one more victim. On their way home the patrol was attacked again and your son was then struck by a poisoned arrow.”

With a supreme effort, the King pushed his feelings behind a stony façade. Once again he prepared to give some orders when the front door opened behind him. Galadhion stood in the doorway and after recognizing his father, came running over.

“Adar, we recovered the spider poison but on our way back we came across the eastern border patrol and…..”

Galadhion stopped when the King raised his hand.

“Galadhion, I’ve already been informed. Where’s your brother now?”

“They are bringing him into the infirmary. Adar it’s already half an hour past that he was struck!”

The King nodded. “Deliver the poison to the healers; I will go to your brother's side in the healing wing.”

Galadhion nodded but before Thranduil could turn, Elrond grabbed the King’s arm.

“Thranduil, the antidote is not yet crafted. There is no assurance that it will work against this poison!”

The King stopped and turned around. With a frightening calm he looked at the healer from Imladris.

“Then you had better hurry. I will send Thornil to you!” he said and turned.

For a moment Elrond was angered by the cool attitude of the King. How could he think this would work? Did he imagine that they would simply pour two substances together and all would be fine?

He shook his head. Standing here would accomplish nothing. Briskly he turned knowing that every moment was now of essence.

Before he left the hall, another figure appeared at the entrance. Elrond stopped short. Glorfindel was leaning heavily against the doorframe for support. Now the bad foreboding from earlier in the morning had returned.

Muttering under his breath the healer turned and hastened toward his councillor.

He had barely reached the entrance when the fair-haired warrior looked up.

“Elrond, don’t worry, you have more important work to do than to look after me. Saeron will die if you cannot provide the antidote. I can look after myself!”

Elrond stopped a sharp retort on his lips. Although people kept telling him what he should do, he knew his duty. The only important thing now was to mix the remedy. Time was running short and he had only one chance to save Saeron's life.

Narrowing his eyes he quickly scanned the warrior’s body before him. How seriously was he injured?

Glorfindel waved his worry away. “Go, Elrond! I’m alright, really!”

Nodding the healer turned and hastened toward his work room. `Valar, let the antidote work` he muttered while he slipped into the room.

Containers filled with a slightly yellowish substance were awaiting him on the large work table. Elrond sloshed one of the containers around and nodded. The substance was oily and viscous like the other spider poisons had been.

Quickly he donned his apron and begun to unpack the utensils he needed. He could not wait on Thornil. Surely the healer was with Saeron and would shortly storm in here and demand the antidote.

Elrond was measuring the poison to mix with the antidote compound they had already created. He carefully placed a vial of mixed poison antidote on the table, then put four glass dishes on the table He was just about to pour a small amount of the poison into each dish when the door was pushed open.

As he had expected, Thornil stood in the doorway looking agitated.

“Master Elrond. I need the antidote – now,” was all he demanded, yet his voice sounded more desperate than demanding.

Elrond rose from the chair and held up his hand.

“Thornil, I have not even had time to make a single test. If the antidote fails then he will be dead by my hand. If the amount of poison is not calculated properly he will die in agony.”

Elrond stopped when his colleague shock his head.

“Elrond, Saeron is already dying. He needs the medicine now. If it works then we are lucky, and if it doesn't, the dosage will make no difference.”

Elrond swallowed. All his instincts rebelled against administering an untested drug.

“Elrond I have the highest confidence in your work. The proportions of the antidote will be correct.”

With this Thornil stepped at the table and reached for the vial of antidote. However, Elrond was faster and stayed his colleague’s hand.

“Thornil,” he said insistently. “What if it fails?”

The palace healer freed his hand and grasped the vial.

“In a few minutes it will no longer matter.”

With this Thornil turned and stormed through the open door. Elrond sighed. He quickly followed the other healer. The next few minutes would show if the King of Mirkwood would lose his second son and if his own skills, honed over millennia, had served him well or not.

Elrond walked after Thornil and entered the sickroom. He stopped short, looking around the room.

It was crowded with elves. In Imladris, Elrond always took care to avoid such sick room situations. The patient's agitation was high enough and it did not help anyone heal when they were surrounded by too many people.

Thornil looked irritated as he hastened toward the bed.

“Everyone has to leave the room, including you, my Lady and my Lord,” he called looking pointedly at the hovering royal couple.

“Please,” he added a bit more softly after seeing the irritation and fear on both of their faces. Elarynia looked uncertain while the King merely tightened his hold around his wife’s shoulders.

Thornil however had no time to waste. Saeron was writhing on the bed barely restrained by two of his assistants.

The prince was already having trouble breathing and was no longer reacting to sounds or commands. Elrond pressed his lips together into a thin line. Even if the antidote worked, he doubted that the potion could reverse the effects of the poison. The poor young elf was already in the final stages before his death.

While Thornil uncorked the vial with the remedy, Elrond registered in the back of his mind that the room had cleared save for the healer's assistants and Saeron's parents. At least there will be fewer witnesses if the antidote doesn't work, he thought.

Thornil had made no further comment on the presence of the royal couple. He accepted that the King and Queen would be witnesses of his success or his failure.

Saeron finally stilled, too worn out to move despite the pain that wracked his body. His hands were shaking and the only sounds were the laboured and desperate attempts of Saeron to breathe.

Thornil sat behind the prince and lifted the sweat-soaked body up gripping his chin with one hand. Elrond rounded the bed and sat on the mattress. After a momentary hesitation, he poured some of the sticky liquid down the young elf’s throat.

As expected, Saeron begun to cough splattering the Elf lord with the antidote. Elrond simply repeated the procedure with a much smaller amount, stroking the elf's throat gently while simultaneously focusing some healing energy to relax the younger elf's muscles.

Saeron swallowed but it was no longer a conscious act. Elrond quickly poured some more over the young elf’s tongue until he was sure that it had to be enough.

He casually gripped the prince’s wrist to monitor his pulse, the action noted by both Thornil and the King.

Elrond expected the slowed heartbeat to stop any minute. Thranduil's lips pressed together into a thin line while Elarynia's eyes fixed on her son’s face.

The minutes stretched on and Thornil closed his eyes. Elarynia's breath caught in fright. She did not know if the healer had detected something she could not perceive, or if he was simply increasing his concentration. Thranduil did not take his gaze from Elrond.

The healer from Imladris was sitting totally still, his eyes closed and Saeron's wrist still gripped firmly in his hand. There was still life in the prince's body and Elrond hadn’t yet heard the call of Mandos.

Thranduil could also still feel that the bond to his child was intact. As long as it was not severed he would not accept his son’s death. Unconsciously he tightened his grip around his wife’s waist.

However, as time moved on even Elrond began to accept that they might have to add another causality to the list of those slain by the new poison.

They had been so close; but now all his experience, indeed, all hope had failed. At least the untested remedy had not killed the prince, but it had not worked either. The outcome was the same.

Just as he began to release the elf's hand and place it on top of the still body he felt a tremor. It was very slight, but nonetheless was there. At first, he attributed it to his strained nerves, but he concentrated more intently, focused only on his patient. Now he could see it. Saeron's fingers were twitching ever so lightly.

“Thranduil,” he called and three heads snapped into his direction. Thornil instantly pressed two fingers against the prince’s neck while Elarynia had sunk to her knees beside the bed gripping the other hand of her son between hers.

Thranduil stood frozen. For a moment he could not detect any change. His son appeared as lifeless as before, yet something must have alerted the healer.

He narrowed his eyes and now he too could see it. The hands of Saeron were beginning to shake. Unbelievingly he looked first at Thornil and then at Elrond but both healers´ gazes were glued to their patient.

As happy as he first was, seeing the signs of life, Thranduil blanched when the tremors quickly changed into full-fledged seizures.

To his consternation both Thornil and Elrond rose from the bedside and avoided any contact with Saeron's convulsing body. Thornil was even softly drawing Elarynia away from the bed.

Feeling the king's questioning gaze Elrond looked at him.

“The antidote is working. His body is fighting against the poison. We can only hope that he has enough strength left.”

Thranduil nodded while looking back at his son. Was there really reason to hope again?

To be continued…………………………..