The Littlest Warrior

The members of the healing room staff were all nervous and anxious. None of them had ever seen the great lord in such a state. Tired? Harried? Yes, they had seen that. Worried, frustrated and overworked? They had seen that as well. But no one had ever seen him so unceremoniously incapacitated. Anything that could take the elf lord down to his knees was no small thing, and the staff worried now for his recovery. Berach, the fourth assistant, was the one who seemed least able to cope with Elrond’s sudden affliction. Nervously he paced back and forth in front of the door to the infirmary awaiting either his lord’s return or word from Glorfindel. The Golden One had, at Elrond’s request, quickly escorted the ancient healer from the rooms as soon as he was able to stand. As usual, Elrond refused medical assistance, citing a momentary weakness in his knee as the cause of his near collapse; and with the balrog slayer’s help, was up and out the door before the two more experienced nestron could assess his condition.

Diligently tending to their two patients they busied themselves administering the latest batch of sleeping draughts, and re-hydrating the flesh of the injured elves while they waited for news from the room next door.

“Perhaps one of us should go and see to him?” Berach offered.

“Calm yourself Berach, he will only send us away…trust me, if we are needed Lord Glorfindel will be the first to let us know,” replied Sereth the second assistant.

“Do not worry for him, he was able to leave under his own power and would not want us hovering over him while there are patients to tend. Come, help me with Aphrod…we should bathe him and get fresh linens for his bed.”

Reluctantly, Berach moved from the door. His worry over Elrond was compounded by his fear of treating the sentry. They’d been told that the wound was caused by some outside influence, and was therefore not contagious. However, Berach, always a worrier, was not completely convinced, and had yet to assist in the hands-on care of either patient. The young healer had an excellent mind for medicine but could sometimes be thrown off track by maladies or injuries that he’d never before seen. Because of this, it was most often he, who Elrond would ask to accompany him on journeys to neighboring realms; he felt it was important for the youngster to be exposed to as many new circumstances and people as possible.

But there was something about this new situation that frightened Berach beyond all reason. He wanted to help as much as he could, but was afraid to get too close or to touch either patient. Obviously, this was not something that could be allowed to continue. The young one would have to get used to all kinds of injuries and all kinds of sickness, lest he forever be relegated to the shelves of the apothecary with no hope of ever being allowed to treat patients. It was Elrond’s fondest wish that he would somehow overcome this trepidation, for his potential as a healer was great, and the elf lord did not wish to lose such a valuable asset to the mindlessness of fear.

But standing here now, stomach churning, feet seemingly frozen to the floor; it was all Berach could do to keep from turning and running in the other direction. He was afraid, and he did not tally the likelihood of that fact changing in the next few moments, so there was naught else to do but practice what his Lord had tried to teach him.

Mentally he ticked off the list; “#1 - Be bigger than the situation as a whole. #2 - Control it, own it, command it, bend it to your will. You cannot be infected with a disease if you are in control over it. #3 - You are the healer, and this malady will bend to your treatment, succumb to your abilities, and be vanquished by your superior knowledge.” At least that’s what he kept telling himself as he moved to help Sereth bathe and tend the wounded elf. “I can do this, I can do this, I can do this”… he said to himself – but somehow his heart just wasn’t in it.


Evening of the sixth day:

The day went much as the preceding days had. Estel spent his morning with Rúmil, the hours during his lessons with Cilinwë and Erestor, and his late afternoon and evening with Haldir. Naptime was just about over and the first of the dinner bells had sounded. This first bell was designed to alert the residents of the Last Homely House that supper was a mere hour away and that they should begin to wrap up whatever chore they were working on and ready themselves for the evening meal. Dinner at Imladris was a special occasion. It was not always possible for everyone to sit at each meal, but dinner was a little different. Dinner was the one time of the day when every resident, with the exception of the sentries, was present for the meal. Lord Elrond felt it important that they have this time together each day to break bread and commune; so barring any unforeseen circumstances everyone stopped work at first bell and returned to their quarters to prepare for supper.

The sound of first bell roused Haldir from his sleep. The drowsy warden yawned and stretched, and momentarily forgetting where he was, almost rolled over onto Estel. He lay there for a few minutes gazing down at the peacefully sleeping child; wondering if any of their lives would be as peaceful and calm as this again; pondering whether the day would ever come when he would be cradling his own elflings in this fashion. He acknowledged that it was generally agreed throughout Lothlórien that Rúmil would probably be the first to have children. He could understand how folks would come to think that, as Rúmil’s great love of children was undeniable. Orophin was a confirmed bachelor, or at least it seemed that way to outsiders, and he, well the only entity folks could imagine Haldir being married to was the Golden Wood. Little did they know that they were wrong, completely wrong on all three counts. Rúmil did in fact love children, however, it was he and not Orophin who truly lived the bachelor lifestyle. And although Orophin’s patients were always his primary concern he did in fact long to be married, to start a family of his own. As for Haldir, no one would ever guess how desperately he longed for the peace and tranquility of married life.

Estel slept peacefully on as Haldir exited the bed and searched for his boots. His movements in the twilight-darkened room finally roused the sleeping youngster and he slowly sat up rubbing his eyes and searching the dark for his new friend.

“Halli?”

“I am here little one, I cannot find my boots – wait a moment while I light a torch.” The warden removed an extinguished torch from the wall and exited the room into the hallway where he lit it by one of the already burning torchere in the corridor. Returning to the room he lit the other torches and remembering the things he’d learned in his dealings with human’s and their sensitivity to cold, he kindled a fire in the fireplace and stoked it until he could feel the heat begin to warm the room.

“There, that should do it.” With the room now warming and fully illuminated he finally found his boots.

“Ah there they are!” he exclaimed. “Did you sleep well little one?”

“Uh –huh.”

“Are you ready for a grand supper?”

“Yeth, my tummy is talkin’ Halli.”

“Talking?”

“Uh-huh it wumbles sometimes – like da thunder. Ada says iss just tellin’ me iss em-tee. Boy it must weally be em-tee Halli, cause its talkin’ weal loud.” The warden just laughed as he flopped down on the bed and pulled the child into his arms.

“Well then we must hurry and get ready for evening meal, we do not want to keep your tummy waiting do we?”

“Nope, ‘sides Ada does not like it when we are late to evening meal, he says it makes everyone else wait for dere supper and dat’s rude.”

“All right, what say we gather up your clothes and things and take them to my room and get ready together?”

“To your room Halli?” the child said in amazement.

“Yes, that way you and I and Rúmil can get ready together, I think Rúmil has probably missed your company this afternoon, and then you can meet our little brother Orophin.”

“Oh boy!” the child exclaimed as he bounced on the bed, “I gonna meet you liddle brudder Halli?”

“Of course. He has been very busy these last few days, and his schedule in the infirmary has not allowed him much personal time, but tonight he is off duty and he is anxious to meet you. So, let us make haste, go to the privy while I get my boots on, then we will pick out your clothes and go to my room to bathe and dress.”

“Yippee!” Estel yelled as he scooted down off the bed and ran for the toilet. As the Marchwarden watched him leave he smiled to himself – ‘One of these days’, he thought ‘I shall have a house filled with elflings, and if I am lucky they will all be full of life, just like you’. Then he hurried to pull on his boots, dinner was calling, and as Estel had just reminded him, it would not be good form to be late.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The darkness of evening fell over the Misty Mountains, and the Last Homely House came alive with action. Moving from room to room the staff quickly lit the torches throughout the house and the resultant light gave the home the appearance of a glittering jewel nestled in the bosom of the mountain. The lights were a welcome beacon, helping to dispel the gloom and the sense of foreboding that had settled over the inhabitants of Imladris; providing a much needed incentive to tired riders making their way back home. Riders, who wanted to stop and rest, but could not. Rescue riders who had not dismounted since they left Imladris days earlier – not even when they reached their destination, too fearful that the enemy might spring upon them and catch them unawares if they alit. Horses that were panting and sweated over from the journey, too dedicated to their masters to give in or give out.

Four sets of riders, one from each compass point surrounding the valley: North from Thranduil, South from Rohan, and East and West from the border outposts, all hurrying, all desperate to get home, back to the Last Homely House and the safety found behind impenetrable Elven gates - gates buoyed by the strength of their warriors and the power of Vilya.