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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

100: Crisis in ICU

ICU was a world of wonder to Elrond as he followed his sons who stopped first at the nurses’ station and spoke to them about the patients. He listened to them, actually surprised at the technical language that meant little to him. How different from his own day when the most technical terms related to the herbs he used to combat the ills that beset the Mortals who came to him for help. He shook his head, wondering at the easy command of such language which his sons displayed.

Then they were visiting the actual rooms. In the first room, Elladan was the one who checked on the patient, who was sleeping or unconscious, while Elrohir quietly explained to Elrond what all the machines were for and what they told them about the patient’s condition.

“The Mortals don’t have the ability to scan as we do, so they’ve made up for it with these machines that give them the necessary information, and in some cases, it has been proved that even using something as simple as a stethoscope is a more reliable method for ascertaining a patient’s condition than scanning.” He gestured toward his brother who had his stethoscope out and was in the process of listening to the patient’s heart.

They made their way from one room to the next, the Twins taking turns examining the patients while the other showed Elrond how to interpret the information being displayed on the various machines, checking the charts on the laptop one of the nurses had loaned them to see what injuries each person had sustained and how it had been treated.

“So little trauma occurs in Aman that most of us healers have had little to do,” Elrond commented at one point, “though Lord Irmo keeps us busy with studies on improving our techniques and developing new skills.”

“Vardamir told me you were an apprentice for a time,” Elladan said in a neutral tone as he watched Elrohir speak softly to the Woman who had woken when they entered her room.

“Yes,” Elrond said with a nod. “I was resistant to the idea for a number of reasons, but eventually Lord Irmo assured me that he would not accept me as a healer under any other conditions.”

“It must have been galling,” Elladan commented.

Elrond shrugged. “More annoying than anything.” He chuckled slightly and Elladan finally looked at him, his expression quizzical. “I remember standing there while some wet-behind-the-ears elfling, who shouldn’t have been left off his nana’s apron strings, was telling me about the best way to process willow bark for making tea.”

“You’re kidding!” Elladan exclaimed.

Elrond’s expression was one of deep amusement at his son’s nonplused expression. “I put up with it for about ten minutes before I simply walked out of the grove without so much as a by-your-leave. Left the poor ellon gaping after me. Lord Irmo appeared before I got a dozen steps away, asking where I was going.”

“What did you tell him?” Elrohir said, joining them. “Let’s go and let Mrs. Williams get some rest.”

Elrond and Elladan nodded and the three exited the room but did not immediately head for the next one. “So, what did you tell Lord Irmo?” Elladan asked.

“I told him I was going to Alqualondë,” Elrond said in reply.

“Oh? Why there?”

“That’s what Lord Irmo asked, and I told him it was so I could ask Olwë for a loan of one of his swan ships to take me to Aewellond and ask my adar for a ride back to Ennorath on Vingilot because I was not about to remain in Aman to be insulted.”

“You see?” Elladan said, turning to his brother. “I told you that, Vala or no, Lord Irmo had no right to treat Ada that way and humiliate him and not respect him as a master healer.”

“Peace, my son,” Elrond said with equanimity. “Lord Irmo was not being disrespectful toward me. He honestly wanted me to be the best healer I could be and that meant going through the apprenticing process, though I assure you that it was not for the full twenty-four years and I was only a Journeyman for perhaps a decade or so while I honed my talents to the fullest.”

“Still…”

“What was Lord Irmo’s response?” Elrohir interjected, wishing to cut off his brother’s protest. He felt as angry as Elladan about what their adar had to go through, but Elrond obviously was not bitter and he respected his adar too much to think the erstwhile Master of Imladris would let himself be humiliated even by a Vala.

Elrond actually chuckled, which surprised both his sons. “He gave me a discerning look and said, ‘I’ll make the arrangements’. Well, that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting and I figured there was a trap there somewhere. Lord Irmo must have divined my thoughts for he then said, ‘No trap. You’re free to leave anytime, Elrond. I won’t stop you or bully you or blackmail you into staying. I will, however, ask that you withhold judgment. You think I am belittling you and your abilities and that is the furthest thing from my mind. If I thought so little of you, my son, I would not have asked you to become my apprentice. You are, indeed a master healer, but you are not yet my master healer. There is a difference and a little thought on your part will show you why.”

“You obviously didn’t run off to Alqualondë,” Elladan said, “so why did you decide to stay and suffer humiliation?”

“Why did you pretend to know nothing of the healing arts when you attended the mortal school?” Elrond countered.

“We had to,” Elrohir answered. “It was hard not to show off our superior knowledge, but we knew it needed to be done that way if we were to achieve any kind of legitimacy among the Mortals. And somewhere along the way, we both learned to respect the Mortals and their methods, recognizing that our own abilities weren’t necessarily superior, merely a different way to achieve a similar end: healing the patient.”

“And that is why I stayed,” Elrond said. “There was no humiliation, only humility, both on my part and on the part of my teachers, who needed to understand that I was not new to the healing arts and probably knew more about certain aspects of it than they did. After our discussion, Lord Irmo assigned Vardamir to… um… test my knowledge, to see where I stood in relation to all the other master healers. In doing so, he was able to demonstrate where I fell short in my abilities or knowledge. That helped me to respect Lord Irmo’s decision to make me an apprentice rather than according me master status automatically. After that, things got easier for us all.”

His sons grew thoughtful and Elrond allowed them a moment or two of reflection before saying, “Shall we see to the others?”

The Twins nodded and they went to the next room. This one held a girl-child. She was not alone, though, for her parents were still there, watching over their sleeping child. Elrond recognized them as the Stillmans. They both looked up as the Elves entered, their eyes widening at the sight.

“What are you doing here?” Stillman growled.

“Easy, George,” Elladan said soothingly. “We’re just here to check on all the patients here in ICU, including your daughter. May I?” He pulled out his stethoscope and held it out.

When Stillman hesitated, his wife pulled him away from the bed. “Let the doctors check on Janey, George.”

“They’re Elves, Erica.”

“They’re doctors and you’re being a fool. God, George, I swear if this were the sixties, you’d be complaining about some black doctor treating your daughter. How did you become such a bigot?”

George’s expression was one of shock. “Bigot? I’m no bigot!” he hissed, his expression bordering on anger and it almost looked as if he would hit his own wife in front of witnesses.

Elladan’s and Elrohir’s expressions were neutral and they made no move to interfere in the argument. Elrond decided to intervene before the Man did something he would always regret. Stepping quietly as only an Elf could, he came between husband and wife, giving them a smile.

“You should hear what my wife calls me when I’m being less than sterling in my behavior,” he said, addressing Stillman in a conspiratorial manner. “It always amazes me how she can make me feel like a right idiot with just a glance.” Stillman just goggled at him, his anger forgotten at the unexpectedness of Elrond’s words. “Now, I know how you must feel, sir, but I assure you we have only the best of intentions toward your daughter. Janey, is it?” This last was addressed to the Woman, who appeared somewhat flustered by the attention.

“Yes, well, it’s Jane Margaret actually. We named her after her grandmothers.”

“A lovely name for a lovely child,” Elrond said smoothly, though privately he didn’t think the names were all that lovely but he recognized pride when he heard it. “She reminds me of my own daughter at that age. I imagine she’s a handful at times.”

“You have a daughter?” Erica asked, seemingly surprised at the idea of an Elf having a daughter.

“Yes, once,” Elrond said calmly. “She fell in love with a Mortal and chose to die with him when his time came, but since she chose a mortal death, she was not re-embodied as Elves are who die. Her mother and I and her brothers” — he nodded to the Twins and both Mortals glanced their way — “will never see her again until perhaps at the time of the Remaking.”

“Remaking?” Stillman asked. “What’s that?”

“When Arda is renewed and all the evil that has beset it from its inception will be transformed and only good will remain.”

They all gasped, the Mortals turning white with shock, at the sound of the dark, melodious voice. Turning, they found Lord Námo standing by the door, gazing upon them with amusement. He was clothed in chthonic splendor, his robes black and pewter gray, his elf-braided hair adorned with a mithril circlet with his symbol of the sun-in-eclipse as the centerpiece carved from sunstone and obsidian.

Elrond was the first to recover, giving the Vala a bow. “Lord Námo, greetings.”

Erica gave a stifled scream and practically threw herself over her daughter’s sleeping form. “You stay away from her, you… you monster,” she hissed. “I won’t let you take my baby.”

“Now who’s the bigot?” they heard Stillman mutter.

Námo raised an eyebrow, but whether at Erica’s words or her husband’s was anyone’s guess. “Madam, if I were here for your daughter, I would not be dressed like this,” Námo said somewhat coldly. Then to their surprise, he gave them a conspiratorial wink. “Much too scary for the little tykes.”

Elrond hid a smile when he noticed his sons blinking and exchanging looks he could not quite interpret. The Stillmans were still a bit nonplused, though Erica had straightened from her crouch over Janey, now looking somewhat chagrined. She started to apologize, but Námo held up a hand, giving her a cool look. “Believe me my dear, as Glorfindel would say, I’ve been called worse by better.”

There was an awkward silence after that and Elrond decided he needed to break it. “Then, may I ask, my lord, to what do we owe your visit?”

“Oh, I’m not here for any of you, never fear,” Námo said. “I’m here for Mr. Anderson in room eighteen.”

“We haven’t gotten to him yet,” Elladan said softly, looking suddenly sad.

Námo gave him a sympathetic smile. “Mr. Anderson is eighty-nine and he’s been ready to go for some time. I was just visiting him, assuring him that he will soon be reunited with his wife and two sons and the rest of their family. He’s quite eager to see them again. I would not be overly concerned for him.” Even as he was speaking, Elrond noticed the Vala’s gaze shifting between the little girl still sleeping and oblivious to the adults around her and the machines that were quietly beeping away.

“George, Erica, you may want to step away from the bed so Elrond and his sons can see to Janey,” Námo said quietly.

“What—?” George started to demand, but then his daughter’s small form jerked and the machines seemed to go wild.

Elladan and Elrohir were immediately beside the bed with Elrohir holding the child down and Elladan quickly removing the ventilator tube from her mouth. Erica was screaming at Námo, “What did you do to her? What’s happening to my baby?” while George was wrestling with Elrond who was holding him back from Elrohir, too intent on the child to pay attention to the father. “Don’t touch her!” he yelled.

Just then a couple of nurses came running in.

“Get them out!” Elladan yelled to one of them, nodding at the Stillmans as he and Elrohir continued working over the girl with Elrohir rattling off a list of the meds they were going to need to the other nurse. The first nurse started toward the Stillmans and then saw Námo and stopped in hesitation. Námo smiled at her.

“I will see to them, my dear. Go and help the doctors. We’ll stay out of your way.” He then grabbed George by the scruff of his neck and simply pulled him off Elrond, plopping him on the floor next to him and commanding, “Be still!” and the Mortal went absolutely quiet. That seemed to frighten Erica even more than what was happening to Janey, for now she was screaming and hitting Námo, “What did you do to George, you monster?”

“Erica! Stop that!” Námo nearly shouted in frustration, grabbing her as well. “George is fine. Concentrate on your daughter. And I am not a monster. Not even close. Just ask my wife.”

“Janey!” the Woman exclaimed, ignoring the Vala’s words, her eyes wide with fear as she turned to see the three healers huddled over her daughter, speaking in that strange language of theirs that sounded to her ears like water flowing over rocks.

The next several minutes were fraught with fear on the part of the parents and heightened tension on the part of the Elves and the nurses as they fought to keep the little girl from having another seizure. Elrond was crooning something soft as he held a hand over Janey’s eyes while his sons continued ministering to the child, utilizing a combination of Elvish and Mortal techniques. Even in the midst of the crisis he could not help feeling a swell of pride at the sight of his sons working side-by-side to save the child’s life.

Finally, Elladan straightened up, checking the vitals displayed on one of the machines, nodding to himself. “I think she’s going to make it,” he said. “Good work, everyone.”

The two nurses smiled and one of them said, “It was a good thing you were here, doctors. I don’t think she would have made it otherwise.”

“We’re just glad we were here as well,” Elladan said. He glanced over to where Námo stood out of the way with the Stillmans on either side of him. Námo raised an eyebrow at him. “Kathy, go check on Mr. Anderson in eighteen, would you?” the elder son of Elrond ordered.

“I saw him about an hour ago, Doctor,” Kathy said, frowning. “He was fine.”

“Humor me,” Elladan said with a slight smile. “Roy and I still need to make the rounds, but I want to have someone check on eighteen in the meanwhile.”

Kathy nodded, still looking unsure, but obviously used to obeying instructions from doctors, for she gave no further argument and left with the other nurse.

“Janey?” Erica whispered.

“She’s fine, Mrs. Stillman,” Elrohir said soothingly. “Your daughter has a long recovery ahead of her, but she’s a fighter, just like her dad.” He cast a brief smile George’s way.

The Mortal harrumphed, looking slightly embarrassed. “Gets it from her mother, actually,” he muttered, then gave the Elves a penetrating look. “Brain damage?” he asked and Erica gasped, looking frightened.

Elrohir shook his head. “It’s too early to tell.”

“The damage is minimal,” Námo said. “She’s young enough that with therapy she’ll be able to compensate. It will not be easy, but she will succeed.”

“And there may be techniques we can use to help her,” Elrond interjected.

“What do you mean?” Stillman demanded, though now his tone wasn’t nearly as belligerent as before.

Elrond smiled. “When one is taught by a Vala, Mr. Stillman, one tends to learn some interesting ways to heal, ways that are not readily evident to us poor Incarnates. I would need to consult with Vardamir and Eärnur, but I think, once we know the extent of any damage to your daughter, we can arrange therapy that will help heal the damaged areas. They won’t be completely healed, you understand. The brain is far too delicate and once an area is lost it remains so, but we might be able to… to…” he paused, looking somewhat frustrated and resorted to a spate of Sindarin.

“Father means he and the other healers from Valinor might be able to alleviate some of the damage, restore some of it to health,” Elladan interpreted for the Stillmans. “I confess, I have no idea if such a thing is possible, but, since neither I nor Roy has been trained by a Vala — by an archangel, you might say — I cannot tell you if such a thing is possible.” He glanced up at Námo, who nodded.

“My brother Irmo is very good at what he does,” was all he said. Then he looked gravely at the Stillmans. “Your daughter is alive only because these three were here.”

“What!” George exclaimed. Erica stifled a cry.

“By the time any other doctor could have gotten here, Janey would already be dead,” Námo explained in a gentle tone. “She lives because Elladan and Elrohir were here. It is doubtful that any of the mortal doctors, had they been here instead, would have been able to save your daughter. It was only because these two are Elves with powers you do not yet comprehend that Janey is alive.”

“And Adar,” Elrohir said somewhat heatedly. “Don’t forget Adar.” Elrond gave his son a swift hug.

Námo smiled at the younger twin. “I do not forget him, child, but it was you and your brother who did most of the work. Elrond merely kept Janey’s fëa quiescent. She was frightened and did not know what was happening, but Elrond was able to speak to her soul, her spirit, whatever you wish to call it, and calm her. That helped you, for she was not fighting your ministrations as she would have otherwise. You three make a good team.”

“I have always been proud of my sons,” Elrond said, smiling fondly at them, “but never so proud as I am this moment.” The Twins actually blushed, and Elrond hugged them both.

“It was good working with you again, too, Ada,” Elladan whispered, returning Elrond’s hug.

Erica held out a hand to Elrohir, who looked at her in surprise. “Thank you, from both of us,” she said.

He nodded, taking her hand and shaking it. “You’re welcome.”

“You should go home,” Elladan said gently. “Janey’s in good hands, the very best, and there’s little that you can do here. You’re both exhausted. Your daughter is going to need you to be strong. Go home and rest. You can come back in the morning. She’ll be awake by then.”

“I don’t want to leave my baby,” Erica whispered.

“The doctor’s right, Erica,” George said, surprising them all. “We’ll do Janey no good if we’re emotional and physical wrecks. And don’t forget we have two other children at home waiting for us. Bobby’s only fourteen. He shouldn’t have to deal with Christopher on his own for any length of time.” He turned to the Elves, giving them a wry look. “Chris is two,” he said by way of explanation.

“Oh, lord,” Elrohir said with a grin, “I remember when Arwen was two. What a terror she was.”

“While you and your brother were perfect angels at that age,” Elrond said with a knowing smile.

“Of course,” Elladan said with a sniff. “What else would we have been?”

Elrond just rolled his eyes, and that simple gesture actually set the Stillmans chuckling, but the moment of levity passed when an alarm went off and they heard someone calling over the PA system, “Code blue. Room eighteen.”

Even before the voice stopped speaking, Elladan and Elrohir were out the door. Elrond remained where he was. The alarm was cut off abruptly and the silence that followed was almost deafening.

“You do not go with them,” Námo said to Elrond, speaking in Quenya, making it a statement rather than a question.

“Is there any point?” Elrond asked in the same language.

“You used to curse my name fighting for the lives of your patients,” Námo replied. “Your sons know that Mr. Anderson will be coming with me, but still they fight or they would except Mr. Anderson has foiled them.”

“What do you mean?” Elrond asked.

The door to Janey’s room opened and Elrond turned to see his sons there, looking immensely sad. “He was DNR. There was nothing we could do,” Elladan said quietly.

“Dee… en… ar?” Elrond asked, unsure of what his son was saying.

“Do Not Resuscitate,” Elrohir explained. “Mr. Anderson signed a form that said that he was not to be resuscitated if he went into cardiac arrest. We had to stand by and watch him die.” He scowled. “It’s one of the reasons Dan and I didn’t always practice medicine. It was sometimes too hard to stand by and do nothing when we had the power to save lives.”

“Hey!” George said. “I hear that from a lot of doctors. It goes with the territory. It sucks, big time, but then there are others you do save, like my little girl. You gotta take the bad with the good, as with anything in life.” He gave them a philosophical shrug. “Well, we should be going,” he said, then he went to the bed, gazing lovingly at his daughter before bending down to give her a kiss. Erica did the same and without another word, they left.

“And I must go as well,” Námo said and before the Elves could give their farewells, he was gone.

For a moment the three of them just stood there, then Elladan gave a shake of his head. “Let’s finish up our rounds,” he said quietly, and taking a last look at the instruments surrounding the child to make sure all was well with her, he exited the room with his brother and father following.

****

Notes:

1. Sunstone: A sparkling orange-gold stone that is a symbol of self-discipline, humility and a desire for service to the greater good.

2. Obsidian: Associated with Hades, the Greek god of the Underworld and keeper of hidden treasure. Obsidian is a grounding stone but it also contains a fiery element. It is useful for developing the strength needed to stand on one’s own convictions against any enemy (hidden or otherwise).





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