The Littlest Warrior

With Andras’ daily bath completed, Timagol was then quite summarily ‘dismissed’ by Udalin, which garnered the healer an extremely disapproving scowl from the gentle giant. As Elrond predicted, the potion Udalin prepared sent the injured elf, as usual, to the land of dreams, where all things are possible, including the healing of an otherwise lifeless arm. Elwaith sat on the side of the bed, humming as he finished drying Andras’ trail weary body.

Four days and nights in the saddle riding from the Entwash and another three weeks on the trail from Lothlórien, Elwaith felt as though he himself had been in a pugilistic competition, as though someone had pummeled his body relentlessly. Everything ached, and as bad as sitting a horse had been, being jostled back and forth in that old, hard wooden cart day after day had been even worse. He was tired, no - correction; he was exhausted; it had been two days since their arrival and he had yet to take any rest. All he wanted to do was avail himself of Lord Elrond’s famous bathing pools and find a soft comfortable place to lie down – just for a little while. If he had to admit it, his stomach felt quite empty, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken the time to eat. For much of the last week he’d spent any free time he had tending to Andras and working out formulas in his head trying to think of a drug, or combination of drugs that might work in concert with this new herb he’d gotten from Rohan. So focused was he on finding a cure that he’d neglected all but the most basic needs for himself, and now that tree of neglect was bearing fruit.

His eyelids felt so heavy, the muscles of his arms and back were stiff and sore…oh, what he would not give for a hot bath, clean clothes, a good massage, and some of his mother’s wonderful stew and biscuits. Unfortunately, he knew that a massage and his mother’s biscuits were out of the question. However, he remembered his father saying that the Lady Nénilya was still residing in Imladris; he referred to her as “one of the last great elves,” so perhaps there was still hope for excellent stew. Elwaith hoped that was true, for she was touted as one of Arda’s finest cooks and he was anxious to sample her cuisine. The drying complete, he slipped a pair of sleeping breeches on the heavily sedated elf and sat back down in an exhausted heap on the chair beside the bed. The quiet in the room was comforting, and the longer he sat, the sleepier he became; it did not take long before he was slumped over the small table at the side of the bed with his head resting on his arms. His half-lidded sightless eyes had just found the pathway to complete reverie, when he was awakened by a gentle shake of his shoulder.

“Elwaith? Elwaith!”

“Huh? Wha ?” the drowsy elf muttered as he sat up with a start, “Lord Erestor…forgive me…I do not know what came over me…,” he stumbled on, “…I assure you, I am not in the habit of sleeping when I should be on duty.”

Erestor just smiled, ‘These young ones…’ he thought, ‘…so entrenched in duty and obligation’. ‘Oh well, they will learn soon enough…no matter how hard you try you cannot be all things to all people – nor can you function without sleep’.

“Master Elwaith, your duty, at least for the moment, was discharged when you turned Andras over to Lord Elrond. Believe me he would not be supportive of you working yourself to the brink of exhaustion, besides, unless I miss my guess Udalin has given Andras another of Lord Elrond’s more potent sleeping draughts…your friend will be sleeping soundly until at least tomorrow morn. At the moment my concern lies with you.”

“Me? Oh please do not worry over me Lord Erestor I am fine.”

“I checked your room earlier and it does not look as if it has been used and from the look of you I see that you have not changed?”

With downcast eyes the young healer looked at his dusty traveling gear and answered shamefacedly, “No My Lord.”

“Nor have you bathed. Have you eaten?”

“No My Lord…”

“And obviously you have not slept or you would not be doing it here, I am forced to conclude young one that you are quite obviously - not fine. The House of Elrond is renowned for its hospitality, and I intend to see that you avail yourself of it – immediately.”

Erestor’s authoritive tone left little room for argument or debate; with the battle so obviously lost, Elwaith could do little else but comply. Tiredly he rose from the chair and nodded his acquiescence to the ancient seneschal. “As you wish Lord Erestor, as you have undoubtedly accurately surmised, I am too tired to be of use here…and I must admit that the prospect of the steaming bathing pools of Imladris would be a most welcome treat.”

The seneschal’s sometimes elusive smile lit his face; he liked this young one, he was dedicated and he was humble; always a good indication that one had a good head on his or her shoulders, at least in Erestor’s book. And, he had been quick to apologize when he found himself in the wrong. ‘Yes…,’ Erestor thought ‘…this was a good and serious young elf who was in need of a little pampering’.

“Follow me then, I will show you to your sammoth and help you get settled in.”

“Sammoth?” Elwaith questioned hesitantly, “I have more than one room?”

“Of course, as befits an elf of your station.”

“My station?” the tired elf asked incredulously as he followed behind Erestor clutching his dusty travel pack to his person.

“Are you not the Personal Healer for the Lord Celeborn and his Lady Galadriel? Master Herbalist for the realm of Lothlórien?”

The young elf’s smile brightened, and his posture straightened quite a bit as he only now realized the truth of Erestor’s statement, and his reply held almost as much revelation, as if this fact had only now occurred to him.

“Why yes, I guess I am.”

“Then hopefully these rooms will meet with your approval,” the seneschal responded as he unlocked and pushed open the double doors to the most exquisite suite of rooms the young elf had ever seen. His accommodations in Lothlórien were somewhat sparse, and he was used to making do with just the basics. Since most of his time was spent either in the infirmary, researching in the library or experimenting in the laboratory he did not miss the things that made life more comfortable – at least that is what he thought, until now.

As Erestor opened the door Elwaith immediately caught sight of an adjacent open doorway that led to another room, and the huge hand carved four-poster bed that sat on the other side. Billowy sheer draperies hanging from the canopy were fluttering lightly on the breeze, the bed itself looked as though it was big enough to hold four people, and the crisp white linens and plump eider-filled pillows made it look all the more inviting. Erestor stood to the side to allow Elwaith to enter the rooms first, and the look of wonder on the elf’s face was too good to miss. The seneschal smiled, pleased that he had indeed selected someone appreciative to spoil – as was his habit. The Last Homely House was famous for its hospitality, and all of Lord Elrond’s guests were well treated, but Erestor had long ago established a pattern of selecting one guest out of the sometimes many, and pampering them as only he could.

As the awe-struck young elf stepped further into the room, he noticed the doors leading to the balcony off to his left. Nestled snuggly in a corner was a large oak table equipped with inks, quills and some rather expensive looking parchment. On the wall over the table hung a large piece of black slate framed in matching oak, and on a small table beside it sat a box of colored chalk. Beside the table was the door to a small ante-room; a little larger than a closet, lined from floor to ceiling with shelves and Elwaith could see that all manner of herbs and elixirs sat waiting in glass apothecary jars; and last but not least, one whole wall of the room held books, dozens of books on medicine, herbs and anatomy.

“Oh my…,” he sighed longingly, “all this….for me?”

“I thought you might like to be able to work from your room should you wake in the night with an idea, This way you will not have to worry about dressing or access to the apothecary if you wish to experiment.” Reaching into his pocket he produced a braided leather lancet and handed it to Elwaith.

“Here is the key to the closet; I trust I do not have to remind you to…”

“Oh no,” Elwaith interrupted, “have no fear Lord Erestor I will be sure to keep it secured when I am not using it.”

“Of course…if you will follow me I will show you to your bathing chamber.”

“MY bathing chamber?” the elf asked in disbelief.

“Yes, your personal bath…you did express a desire to bathe, did you not?”

“Yes, I did…I just did not think that I would have…such privacy. In Lothlórien we use communal baths for the most part; I did not stop to think that it might be different here.”

“Well,” Erestor said as he opened the door to the bath, “I am pleased to be able to surprise you. Welcome to Imladris Master Elwaith.”

Stepping through the door of the chamber Elwaith found a luxuriously appointed room. The bathing vessel, a large hand-hammered copper tub, big enough to seat two comfortably, sat gleaming in the center of the room. Candles of various shapes, sizes, and scents sitting on ornately carved wrought iron pedestals ringed the room. Drying cloths woven from the finest linen, and the most sought after soaps and oils to be found anywhere in Arda were scattered in neat graceful groups around the room. And then there were the flowers, flowers of all kinds in small tastefully arranged groupings throughout the entire suite of rooms. Lastly, and much to Elwaith’s delight – another balcony, smaller, but a balcony none the less.

“I have taken the liberty of drawing your bath…I hope the scented oil is to your liking?”

Elwaith stood there wistfully, immersing himself in the ambiance and the unmistakable scent of jasmine – his favorite; finally he found voice to speak.

“Lord Erestor…everything is lovely…warm, inviting… and comforting – exactly what I needed, but I suspect you knew that,” he said blushing.

“I try to anticipate the needs of all our guests,” Erestor responded coyly, refusing to tip his hand that this was anything more than ‘business as usual’.

The young healer turned and faced the seneschal with weary tear-filled eyes “Yes, but this…its…its exactly what my spirit needed – thank you Lord Erestor, thank you for taking the time to see that.”

“Just ‘Erestor’ will do, no one addresses me as ‘Lord’ unless we are engaged in some type of formal negotiation, and you are most welcome. Well then, I will leave you to settle in, I will have one of the servants come by in say…45 minutes to bring you a luncheon tray? Meanwhile I will lay out something more comfortable for you to wear, try to get some rest, your friend will be sleeping until at least tomorrow, and unless something unforeseen happens, you will not be expected in the infirmary until morn. I will come by for you around 7:00 o’clock to escort you to the dining hall for the evening meal. In the meantime if you have need of anything else you have but to ask one of the servants, or send for me, I will be only too glad to help you.”

“Thank you Lord…I mean, thank you Erestor…you have been very kind.”

“It was my pleasure, now into the tub with you,” he said smiling, “after that long dusty trip I suspect it will take quite a bit of soaking to make you feel like an elf again.”

As the graceful seneschal turned and headed for the door Elwaith looked wistfully around the room and whispered. “Such opulence, everything you could ever need, wait until the elves back home hear about this.”

As the wily seneschal shut the door to the bathing chamber behind him, he smiled; thinking, “Mission accomplished.”