Healing Hope

Chapter Fifty Three

First Do No Harm

“Care inspires and gently reassures us. Lending us a feeling of security and support, it reinforces our connection with others.”  Don Martin

As Elrohir, Beling and Glorfindel rode across the bridge towards home, the twin felt a surge of relief.  Glorfindel told the pair when he met them that Elrond and Sariboril had treated Elladan with a potion, but Elrohir was anxious to see for himself and to deliver the precious bit of arrow Beling retrieved from the tree.  They rode hard, asking much of their horses, but the faithful mounts gave the elves all they had.  If Sariboril’s treatment did not fully heal El then this might make a crucial difference, the twin reasoned.  Most of all, he was anxious to see his brother.

Having been alerted to the rider’s arrival by the sentries, for by this time all of Imladris was aware of the situation with Lord Elladan, Aradol met them at the front of the house to take the horses.  He was more than relieved to see Celon, for Celos had been agitated since the departure of Elrohir and his twin.

“Did you find something that might help?”  Aradol asked Elrohir as the twin dismounted from Celon.   “Yes,” smiled Elrohir.  “Treat him well,” he said, handing Aradol the reins.  “He earned it today!”

Aradol took the reins of Celon as another elf stepped forward to take Beling’s mount to the stables where he was housed.  “Have no fear,” assured the Ostler “Come Asfaloth,” he called, knowing that Lord Glorfindel’s mount would follow at his spoken word.  Aradol would treat the pair with all the loving care he always gave them and then some.  “Your brother shall be glad to see you,” he crooned to Celon, as he led the pair away.  “He has been in quite a state since you left!”

“I will take my leave now,” said Beling as Glorfindel and Elrohir started up the steps.

The pair stopped and turned back.  “Beling...thank you!” Elrohir breathed.

“Well done, young one,” praised Glorfindel.

Beling placed his hand over his heart and gave a small bow to the Balrog Slayer and Lord Elrohir.  “It is ever my honor to serve Imladris,” he vowed.  “Now I must see to my sister.”

Elrohir was struck again by the fact that Beling had so recently lost his brother, Belan.  “Beling, I shall forever be in your debt.”

“Come,” urged Glorfindel, saving the young ones from their awkward leave taking.  “I am sure your father is waiting for this,” he said indicating the arrow Elrohir held. 

With a final nod to Beling, Elrohir turned and sprinted up the stairs to the third floor. 

O-o-O-o-O

For a horrified second, Nárë could not believe the scene before him.  It was only when Estel moaned again that the elf sprang into action.  Quickly Nárë knelt beside the child and gently turned him over. 

Estel cried out as his arm was jostled.  There was blood trickling down his chin from the cut to his lip, and the side of his face around his eye was swelling and blackening. 

“What have you done?” he asked in disbelief.   He started to scoop up Estel, but stayed the action when he realized that he could not properly support the child with just one arm.

“Lariel, remove yourself from my sight and pray that you have visited no lasting harm upon this innocent,” Nárë thundered. 

The fury in his voice shook the elleth from her reverie.  With a choked sob she ran from the room, sickened by what she had done.

“Pendan, are you able to attend me?” Nárë asked the warrior, frustrated with his inability to properly lift the child.

“I am, my Lord,” Pendan immediately responded.  He bit down on his lip to hide a grimace and held his injured ribs as he gingerly got off the bed.  As quickly as he could manage, he knelt down beside the Sword Master.

“Very carefully place his injured arm on top of his chest and hold it there as we rise,” instructed Nárë.  He held the back of Estel’s knees in his hand with the child’s head in the crook of his elbow.  “That is right,” he said as the pair came awkwardly to their feet.  “I am sorry for the hurt this causes you, Pendan, but I would have caused the child more harm attempting to lift him alone.”  To Nárë, the shame of his disability was never more evident than at this moment.

“It is my honor to serve you, my Lord, and to help Estel.”  He stepped back once they were both standing.  “I cannot believe that Lariel could have reacted so.”

Nárë’s face hardened.  “We will speak of Lariel later.”

Pendan felt fear such has he had never felt before for his sister.  “My Lord, she has brought great dishonor upon our house, but I beg your mercy...”

“Not now, Pendan,” Nárë warned.  “Go back to your bed; I will speak to you after Estel has received aid.” He glanced down at the child resting against his chest. “You are safe now, Estel.”  Nárë looked for any reaction and saw none.  “Hear me, Estel,” he urged.  “I will not leave you.”

O-o-O-o-O

Elrond and Sariboril had quickly decided that their best chance was in working independently, each in their own apothecary, Sariboril on the first floor and Elrond in his room located just off the room where Elladan was being watched over by Elrohir and Glorfindel.

As he worked methodically to isolate the poison on the arrow, Elrond forced himself not to think about Elladan....not to allow the fear for his son to cloud his thoughts with worry.

Working beside him, as he had done the many years that the twins were away killing orcs, was Erestor.  Though Elrohir most often worked beside his father in recent years, Erestor still retained his skills with herbs.

In the past few hours Elladan’s breathing became labored, his pulse quickened, and the wound began bleeding anew.  Elrond recognized these symptoms to be consistent with those of a poisonous snake bite.  At last he had some clue to the unusual progression of this wound.  The Elf Lord knew that many snake venoms were odorless and colorless, but since there were no serpents in the valley of sanctuary he had not immediately thought of venom.  Now his heart lifted to feel so close to solving the debilitating progression of Elladan’s condition.

Working easily beside Elrond, Erestor was mixing a potion of Kumina, Kress, and Iris.  The Kumina and Iris were first ground together and mixed with a bit of water. With these two herbs Erestor hoped to retard the symptoms of the venom until Elrond could isolate the particular species of viper from which it had come. He held up the vile to study the consistency against the light from the lantern.  Content that he had the correct measurements, the Seneschal swirled the mixture in the vile before adding a small amount of Kress to alleviate, or at least lessen, the difficulty the twin was experiencing breathing.  Last of all he added Elecampane and Cucumber to fight the infection and slow down his rapid pulse. 

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir sat on the side of Elladan’s bed holding his twin’s hand and talking softly to him as his Adar and Sariboril worked to isolate the trace amount of poison found on the arrow.  Upon his return, he was shocked to see the deterioration in Elladan’s condition as the poison spread insidiously throughout his body.

As though sensing the presence of his twin, Elladan stirred and struggled to open his eyes.  “El?”  His voice was weak and raspy, but Elrohir rejoiced to hear it.

“I am here, El,” he said quickly.  Elrohir reached for the water on the bedside table.  “Here, drink some of this.”  He gently tipped Elladan’s head with one hand while holding the cup to his parched lips with the other.  “Only a sip now,” he cautioned.

A taste was all Elladan could manage, but it felt wonderful going down his throat.  Why was he here?  The twin could not remember what had happened to him.”  “Estel...where is Estel?” he asked, trying to piece together all the images in his fuzzy mind.  The care and protection of his baby brother was always at the forefront of his thoughts, even now in his confused state.

“Hush now,” Elrohir soothed his restless brother.  “Ada will give you his tea if you do not quiet down,” he teased, his heart buoyed to see his twin’s eyes again.

“El?” Elladan gasped, as the pain in his shoulder slammed against his consciousness.  He lay panting for a moment, his hand grasping Elrohir’s with what little strength he had.  Elladan could feel the cloying blackness seeking him once more and fought to remain with his brother. 

“I am here, El,” Elrohir vowed.

“Forgive me...”  Elladan’s eyes closed as the void claimed him once more.

“El!” Elrohir cried, squeezing his hand and willing his brother to hear his voice.  “Do not leave me!”

O-o-O-o-O

Legolas reached Falathar’s side only moments after the elf fell unconscious. Such was his faith in his Adar’s ability that he did not even spare a glace at the beast or fear that he could be in danger.  His only thought was for Falathar, the friend and companion of his youth.

Quickly Legolas assessed Falathar’s condition.  His only wound seemed to be the obvious one.  With trepidation, he reached to take hold of the shaft, but his hand was stayed by Thranduil’s.  The King had quickly dispatched the Uruk and now knelt beside Legolas and Falathar.

“No Greenleaf,” cautioned the King. “You must not remove the arrow.”

Legolas frowned, but withdrew his hand.  The thought of leaving that vile thing inside Falathar was reprehensible.   “Will not more poison be corrupting his body from the arrow?”

“That is a possibility,” the King conceded, “but from the location of the arrow, I can tell you that removing it would be worse for him.”  At the look of doubt on his son’s face, Thranduil reached over and placed his hand on Legolas’ shoulder.    “It is hard, I know, but if we remove the arrow he would bleed to death before we could get him back.”  He gave his son a hard look.  “What is the first rule of caring for a wounded warrior?”

“First do no harm,” Legolas repeated automatically. 

“That is correct,” nodded Thranduil.  “The healers will know best how to care for Falathar.”

Legolas nodded, trusting his Adar.  “I will take him.”

Thranduil looked around the area, judging the progress of the battle and seeing that his warriors had things well under control.  In a few more moments it would all be over, at least until the foul beings regrouped and decided to fight again.  “We will take him back,” he said. 

O-o-O-o-O

“Thedin!” Nárë called as he swiftly carried Estel towards the triage area.

The nestron turned when he heard his name called and blanched when he saw the grim faced Sword Master striding towards him holding the injured child.  Thranduil would be furious when he learned the child had been hurt while under Mirkwood’s protection, and how would the Lord of Imladris react?  Valar, were relations between the two Elven realms not strained enough?  The healer rushed forward to help as Nárë lay the child onto the nearest treatment board.

“This was no mere fall,” frowned Thedin as he assessed Estel’s injuries.

“No,” confirmed Nárë, “it was no accident.”  Anger radiated from the elf.

Thedin was glad that he was not the recipient of the Sword Master’s famous ire, and then his mind registered what Nárë said. “Are you saying this was deliberate?” Thedin was dumbfounded.  He had not even considered that scenario.  Who would do such a thing to a babe, and one already injured at that?  Setting aside his curiosity – for the moment – the healer quickly finished his evaluation.

“Tell me how he is,” ordered Nárë.  The warrior was furious with himself.  Estel had been left in his care and he had failed the child and his King.  How could his judgment have been so flawed that he would choose an elleth capable of such an act?

“Estel’s arm is not re-broken, thankfully, but there are several gashes from the broken plaster, and the arm is swelling from the trauma of the fall.”  Thedin was relived that the arm had not broken for that would have been a knotty problem.  “I will have to let the swelling subside before I re-cast the arm.”

“What about his head?” asked Nárë.  “There is a lot of swelling and discoloration there.”

“Yes,” nodded Thedin.  “I fear the bones around his eye may be damaged.”  He gently prodded the area drawing a groan from Estel. “Do you see this bruising?” instructed Thedin, pointing out a sharp line of blue-black discoloration in the middle of the swelling.  Tinges of blue were spreading across the child’s face as the bleeding under the skin continued.  “He appears to have struck or been struck by something with a sharp edge.”

“His head hit the table leg,” explained Nárë.  “Why has he not awakened?”

“Loss of consciousness with a head injury is not uncommon,” replied the healer, “though I would not like to see this continue for long.”  The doctor straightened Estel’s arm and began pulling away the remainder of the cast.  Next he swabbed the cuts caused by the sharp shards of plaster.  “There are two gashes here that will require stitching,” he commented. “I will not be able to apply a cast over the stitches,” he murmured to himself.

“What will you do?” Nárë marveled again at the fragility of the human child, and realized how very much out of his league he was when it came to the care of one.

Thedin sighed as he began gently swabbing the blood around Estel’s mouth.  “I will splint and immobilize the arm until the stitches can be removed.”  He sat the bloody swab aside.  “It is not the ideal situation, but it is the best I can do for now.”  Turning Estel over, Thedin frowned at the deep bruising on his back.  “This blow was not the result of a fall.”  Thedin shook his head, his anger building over the abuse this child had suffered. 

“When can I take him back to my rooms?”

Thedin’s eyebrows rose indignantly at that question.  “Estel can go nowhere until he regains consciousness, and I have completed the work on his arm.”  The healer nearly huffed at the preposterousness of Nárë’s question. “There could also be further problems resulting from this blow to his back.”  Thedin forced himself to calm before continuing. “Once I am sure that he is well, I may consider allowing him to leave my care.”

Nárë glanced around the room at the measured chaos, his feelings on leaving Estel here clearly evident. 

Thedin bristled all over.  “I have been charged by my King with the medical care of this child.”  He glared across the table at the warrior.  “I did not travel all the way to Lake Town and spend days in the tutelage of the human healers to abandon my responsibilities now.”

 Nárë could not help but smile at the change in the healer.  “Peace, good elf, I do not doubt your devotion or your skills.”  He held up his hand as though in surrender.  “I am only concerned that with the number of wounded requiring your time that you will be hard pressed to give Estel the amount of supervision he requires.”  The Sword Master stroked the child’s damp forehead. “I have already made that mistake and it cost this young one dearly.”

Thedin nodded his acceptance of the warrior’s explanation. “There are sufficient healers present for the wounded we have to allow me to devote my full attention to Estel.

“Master Nárë!” a sentry called from the doorway.  “The King approaches!”

TBC

Translations:

Nestron:  Healer/male

Ostler:  Stable Master