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Burden of a Healer  by Laikwalâssê

Burden of a healer

Chapter 10:  victory

After the seizures had stopped Elrond had sat back on the bed and again checked the vital functions of the young elf. Saeron's heart was beating stronger now in a normal rhythm and his fever had gone down a bit. However he was still unconscious and not out of the woods yet. It would be a long recovery ahead of him.

Thornil had left the room to order fresh clothing and bedding for the prince.

Elrond had sealed the vial with the precious liquid and stored it into his pocket. From the remaining drops, the healers of Mirkwood wound have to produce more of the antidote.

When Thornil returned with one of his apprentices in tow Elrond stood.

“Elarynia, Thranduil, I will take my leave. I think your son now has a good chance of survival. I leave him in the best of hands,” he added, nodding toward his colleague. He still felt uncomfortable invading his colleague’s territory.

While the Queen only kissed him on the cheek and hurried back to her son’s bedside, Thornil inclined his head.

“And once again, it was you, my Lord, who saved the prince’s life. I’m in your debt.”

“It was your superior knowledge about the spider poison that made the antidote workable,” Elrond retorted.

Thranduil interrupted the two healers. “Enough of that. The only thing that matters is that the antidote is working. Or am I mistaken?” he asked with a nod in the direction of the still form of his son.

“Your son will recover, my Lord, with time. Now, his body is still fighting the poison,” Thornil said with conviction and Elrond nodded relieved that the palace healer had rediscovered his self-confidence.

With a last look at the youngster on the bed, he turned and left the room. He had still some work to do. Imladris would need the antidote as much as Mirkwood and he would not return without having a sufficient amount of it in his packs. Restlessness was already tugging at him.

 

……………………………..

Elrond had just left the healing ward when Calan, a young apprentice of Thornil, came running down the corridor. When he caught sight of the Imladris' healer, he stopped appearing unsure. His gaze wandered past the healer to the door closing off the room Elrond had just emerged from.

Elrond instantly felt that his presence again brought some misbalance to the well organized and established hierarchy of order in the King’s household.

Knowing that Thornil would remain with the prince to make sure that his healing progress was going well; Elrond stepped toward the young healer and raised an eyebrow.

“Master Thornil will be occupied for some time longer. If you are willing then I would be glad to be of help.” Elrond offered, carefully watching the young elf’s reaction. He was sure that Thornil would not mind.

Making up his mind Calan straightened.

“Thank you, my Lord, but it is indeed you I’m seeking, yet I don’t want to ignore Master Thornil...”

Calan stopped in mid-sentence when the Elf-lord narrowed his eyes.

Elrond’s confusion deepened. Why would the apprentice healer seek HIM out? The bad feeling from earlier in the morning was back full force. With all the agitation he had totally forgotten about…

“Calan, what is it?” he asked, carefully neutral.

The young healer swallowed at the low tone.

“My Lord, two hours ago I helped to care for Lord Glorfindel´s wound. At first all seemed well, yet after…”

Elrond swallowed. Glorfindel! The warrior had assured him that he was not badly injured. With all the focus on the prince, he had ignored inner voice and had left the warrior to himself. Elrond grimaced. With the events unfolding as they had he would have had barely found time to care for Glorfindel anyway. Now he was sure he would pay the price for his negligence.

Not wanting to lose more time Elrond was not interested in the full tale. He would learn it soon enough.

“Where is he?” he asked briskly. Motioning the young elf to follow him Elrond started already hastening down the corridor.

Irritated, Calan directed a last glance at the still closed door of the prince's quarter, but then he turned and followed the visiting healer.

“He said that he was not feeling well and before we could stop him he had returned to his room. Two times I checked with him and wanted to look after him, but each time he dismissed me assuring that he was well. The last time I checked I heard him moan and after that there was a loud commotion and…”

When Elrond looked at the healer with stormy eyes the young elf fell silent. Elrond quickened his pace fearing that again haste was required.

When he had reached Glorfindel's guest quarter he did not bother to knock. He pushed the door handle down but the door wouldn't open.

Elrond whirled around. “Do you have a master key?” he asked the befuddled young elf.

Calan rummaged in his pocket and to Elrond’s relief produced a key. Without further delay Elrond unlocked the door and strode into the room. As he had feared, Glorfindel was lying next to the bed on the floor unmoving.

Elrond swore under his breath and hastened over. The fair-haired elf felt cold to the touch even though he was sweating profusely.

Elrond turned his councillor over and felt for his pulse. It was present, but much too fast and somewhat erratic; a clear sign of a body’s reaction to poison.

Elrond lifted Glorfindel's limp body in his arms and placed him on the bed. He quickly opened the elf's tunic and while placing his right hand on his chest, he poured healing energy into his shivering body.

Calan stood nearby, unsure how to help. He looked uncomprehendingly as the healer of Imladris loosened the bandage he and his helpers had applied earlier. What was the Master Healer determined to find?

When Elrond continued to inspect the long gash Calan stepped closer.

“My Lord, how can I be of help?” he asked. He was partly irritated and partly worried. What had the palace healers overlooked?

Elrond had no time for explanations. Glorfindel already had problems breathing. It was clear now that that the gash had somehow been contaminated with spider poison. The red puffy tissue around the gash was not a result from this kind of injury. However, the amount of poison had to be minor otherwise the warrior would not have survived this long.

Something had come into contact with the open wound and it could only be poison given the symptoms Glorfindel was showing. Elrond had to admit that until now he had not learned what had happened to his advisor during the hunt.

Remembering that he still had the vial with the antidote he had used earlier on Saeron in his pocket Elrond did not hesitate. The antidote's recipe used the poison of the red spiders and it was against these beasts that Glorfindel had fought. The antidote would work against the pure poison as effectively as against the vile new combination made from spider poison and the poison of Aconitum.

Without any further delay he retrieved the vial, uncorked it and carefully poured some down the fair haired elf’s throat. He had to be careful because there was not much left and a few drops had to remain to produce more.

Remembering Calan was still standing next to the bed, Elrond looked briefly at the young healer.

“Please fetch me some warm water, some more blankets, and inform Master Thornil about where I am as soon as he is available.”

Calan nodded curtly and left the room. Elrond turned back to his friend and poured some more liquid down Glorfindel's throat. He encouraged the swallowing reflex and placed the elf's head back onto the pillow.

Experiencing the feeling of déjá vu Elrond grimaced. Hopefully this would have the same good result as earlier in the long day.

For nearly one hour Elrond sat on the warrior's bed, monitoring his friend’s condition. To his satisfaction the antidote seemed to be working and the symptoms were already milder. Glorfindel was sleeping now and he seemed to be returning to a more acceptable if still not normal level.

Suddenly the door opened and an irritated looking Thornil stormed into the room. Seeing the pale and unmoving figure of Glorfindel lying on the bed and the Master Healer from Imladris sitting right next to him, Thornil stopped and took a deep breath.

“Elrond, I’m sorry, I had no idea…”

Straightening an additional blanket and pulling it up to the still elf’s chin, Elrond rose and motioned for Thornil to follow him away from the bed.

“Don’t worry, Thornil. I found him in time and was able to stabilize him. The antidote worked as effectively as on Saeron, even though I had to throw all caution to the wind for a second time. My limits for being so rash have now been reached for the next millennia.”

Thornil grimaced, not really content. Being King Thranduil's guests, Thornil had been responsible for the Noldor elves and Glorfindel's poor health had slipped his notice.

Seeing what thoughts were coursing through the other healer’s mind Elrond placed a comforting hand on his colleague's shoulder.

“Thornil it was not your fault. Glorfindel fooled me too and he is a really good actor. I will have a few clear words with him when he awakens before I kill him with my bare hands.”

Now Thornil smiled. “May I at least assist you in that?” he asked and both healers laughed silently while glancing at the sleeping elf. They turned and left the room.

Five hours later Thornil re-entered the room of Glorfindel and stepped quietly closer. With a sigh he grabbed a blanket and placed it over the half-elf sitting in a comfortable chair next to the bed, sleeping. It still irritated him that the Master healer was sleeping with his eyes closed.

When he glanced back at the bed he recognized the first signs of waking by the fair haired elf. He gently shook Elrond, sure that his colleague wanted to be alerted.

“Elrond, wake up,” he said quietly.

The healer instantly opened his eyes and his gaze focused on the elf on the bed.

Thanking Thornil with a nod, Elrond moved to sit carefully at the edge of the mattress.

“How do you feel, Glorfindel?” he asked when he was sure that the warrior was recognizing his surroundings.

The warrior blinked a few times until his gaze locked on the healer’s sober face.

Closing his eyes briefly, Glorfindel took a deep breath.

“Elrond, I know what you want to say…..”

The warrior stopped when the dark haired elf held up his hand.

“No, you don’t,” the healer answered and exhaustion crossed his face. “You scared me, Glorfindel, but I’m the one to blame. I should have made sure that your assertions were true.”

Glorfindel clearly heard the accusation and the regret and he lowered his eyes. After another deep breath, he looked up at his friend.

“Elrond, I’m sorry. I did not deliberately lie to you; in fact, I did not lie at all. I simply underestimated the severity of my injury and I was completely unaware that poison had entered the wound.”

Elrond gazed back at the warrior but he only saw open regret and sincerity.

“Maybe you could leave it a healer to judge your injuries next time?" he asked but his tone had already brightened. Glorfindel knew that the healer was still angry, worried, and filled with self reproach but it was a beginning.

“Promise," Glorfindel replied, refraining from using any phrase that could aggravate the healer further.

Elrond nodded and squeezed his friend’s arm in sympathy.

“You are in the best of hands here and I expect that you will cooperate with Thornil because I intend to return home as quickly as possible.” Elrond nodded at his colleague still standing at the footboard of the bed.

“I will not be the cause for any further delay, Elrond,” Glorfindel answered also nodding at the palace healer.

Elrond rose satisfied.

“This is settled then. Please sleep, Glorfindel,” he advised and the warrior refrained from commenting. He only waved the healers away and pretended that he was already asleep.

When the door had been closed the warrior took a relieved breath. ´Never anger a healer!´ he thought.

 

…………………………………………

 

Elrond checked again, making sure to secure his packs safely on his horse’s back. The great stallion was dancing nervously eager to return home. The big leather pouches across his back contained, apart from his Master’s personal belongings, a few flagons containing the antidote. With a last reassuring pat at the proud neck Elrond turned and received a nod from his Troop Commander that he also was ready to go.

Elrond turned toward the fortress doors, expecting the King to be standing at the great steps wishing them farewell; but it was not only Thranduil standing there but Elarynia as well, and Galadhion, and to his dismay even Saeron.

The younger prince, however, was no longer his responsibility and things were handled differently in Mirkwood. The recovery period of their warriors was much shorter, although whether the foreshortened time was intentional or forced he had not learned.

The presence of the palace healer showed Elrond that at least one other person was uncomfortable with the not yet fully recovered young elf walking around. If the sons of Thranduil were as stubborn as their father was, then Elrond did not envy his colleague.

Before he could contemplate anything else, a blond whirlwind rushed past him right into the outstretched arms of his advisor. Glorfindel caught the bundle of energy easily and threw him in the air earning a loud shriek.

“Do it again…again…again….”

“He will never tire of this,” Thranduil warned when Elrond walked up to him. Elrond smiled indulgently. Glorfindel knew how to handle the youngest son of Thranduil. He had survived the childhood of his own twin sons and was still intact while enduring his youngest, his similarly aged and energy-laden daughter.

As Glorfindel walked over with Legolas riding on his shoulders Elrond directed a thoughtful gaze at his friend. He clearly remembered how Glorfindel had downplayed his injury and made them believe that all was well.  He had nearly paid for that deception with his life. He would keep a close eye on the warrior during their journey home.

While Gorfindel deliberately avoided his gaze, Elrond focused his attention on Saeron until the young elf begun to squirm. Here at least he was successful.

“I’m really feeling better, my Lord,” the young elf answered the unvoiced reproof, while he sent an uncertain look at his parents.

“Do not worry, Lord Elrond, I will make sure he takes it slowly,” Thornil assured.

“And I will too,” Thranduil added sending a dark look in his son’s direction. Saeron ducked in mock fright, receiving a kiss from his mother who was standing next to her husband.

“Me too, darling,” she whispered sweetly while squeezing the arm of her son affectionately.

Elrond smiled. It was high time to return home. He inclined his head toward the palace healer.

“Thornil, I’m glad that we came to such a promising result. Once again, we were able to repel the darkness. May the next assault be long in coming.”

Thornil inclined his head.

“That’s my fervent wish too, Elrond. I wish you both a pleasant and uneventful journey home.”

After that, the Master of Imladris turned toward the royal couple.

“Thranduil, Elarynia, Galadhion farewell and don’t forget to follow my invitation to spend the summer in Imladris.”

“I will remind him and thank you Elrond,” Elarynia answered while again placing a kiss on the tall elf’s cheek.

“And greet Celebrían from me.”

“That I will surely do,” Elrond replied as he turned, followed by the King who would escort them out of the courtyard.

Suddenly Glorfindel stooped when something tugged at his braid.

“Let me down, please,” the elfling whispered but Glorfindel looked at his friend walking right next to him with a surprised look on his face.

“What is this? I thought I heard something?”

Elrond tilted his head and pretended to be listening, deliberately ignoring the squirming child on his councillor’s shoulders.

“You must be mistaken,” he finally answered while hiding a smile at the frown that appeared on the elfing's face. Now Legolas looked like a perfect copy of his father.

“But I’m here,” Legolas cried his voice slightly wavering. Glorfindel mounted his horse with a leap making the elfling shriek with both fright and joy.

Sitting atop his horse, Glorfindel tilted his head up.

“Oh, my Lord King, I nearly overlooked your son and took him home with me….”

“Nooo…” Legolas cried. When the King stretched out his arms the elfling quickly scrambled down into the safety of his father’s embrace. With a scowl he looked back at the fair-haired elf.

“You clearly heard me,” he said accusingly. When Elrond, Glorfindel and Thranduil burst out in laughter simultaneously, the elfling buried his face in his father’s chest.

“Farewell Thranduil,” Elrond said and Glorfindel inclined his head while turning his horse around.

“Farewell Elrond, Glorfindel. May the Belain watch your path,” Thranduil said and waved until both elves were out of sight.

End.





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