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━━━━»•» act four. age of glory

45. the healer's hands «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 rohan; helm's deep

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WHEN SHE WAS YOUNGER, HER FATHER USED TO TELL HER ABOUT THE HISTORY OF THEIR PEOPLE. The Ñoldor in exile had fought many battles and overcame many hardships but here was one story in particular that had always stood out to her. It was not one of glorious deeds but rather of what came after. Her father told her that after the sacking of the Havens of Sirion he'd walked amongst the fallen. He'd arrived too late to help his kin and they'd been slain at the hands of the sons of Fëanor. It was then when he realised that his task as king didn't truly start until after the battle was over. She'd never quite understood his meaning.

Until now.

Everywhere she looked the ground was covered with the bodies of elves, men and orcs. At times, the stone floor of the fortress was slick with blood, causing her to stumble and her stomach to writhe with discomfort. She kept a sharp eye out for any sign of life, of someone wounded she might yet be able to save. And all the while her father's words echoed through the back of her mind.

Yes, a ruler should lead their troops into battle. Yes, a ruler was expected to fight and inspire courage. But a ruler was also required to pick up the pieces after the fight was over. To help their people mourn, rebuild, and eventually move on. It was much more difficult to convince someone to not give up hope when he'd lost so much, than it was to call him into battle to protect his family. The true hard work came after the hour of valour was long gone. For that was when men needed someone to look to the most.

Elgarain only wished it hadn't taken so much death for her to finally understand that responsibility.

Those who were still able to stand had begun the task of cleaning up the wreckage of the battle. Not a single Orc was left alive and no one bothered to dig them a grave. Their corpses were piled onto several great heaps. They were to be burned later.

But for the fallen men and elves, two mounds were raised. Beneath the first rested the Riders of the Mark with their horses, their faithful companions. Elgarain had watched as Alys and the other healers had laid Fridwyn to rest there. Her heart ached at the memory of the stern but kind woman who had stood beside her to defend her people until her last breath.

Beneath the second mound rested the Elves of Lothlorien, their commander Haldir among them. He was placed there by his brother Rúmil, who had lamented his fall with crystal tears before retreating to his brother's bedside. He hadn't moved since, waiting for Orophin to open his eyes.

None of it was fair, none of it was supposed to happen this way and yet they had to find a way to live with it. Though Elgarain wasn't sure how. If her pain was this great, how much greater would the pain be for the people of Rohan? She feared if she did nothing, her heart might break beneath the weight and so she did the one thing she could think of to help. She would lead and help them to heal and find whatever measure of peace they might have left.

Thus, she walked among the fallen with the same grace and kindness as her father had done many years before. Many broken bodies she passed and either closed their eyes while muttering a prayer or called to the nearest soldiers to have them moved to the infirmary. At times she would come across a soldier so heavily wounded that the only medicine she could provide them with was a quick death. There were no tears in her eyes, no shaking hands or quiet sobs. She wore the mask of a healer with the strength of a queen. Right now, there was no place for her own grief.

The sound of swift steps made her look up. As soon she caught sight of Alys running towards her, she got to her feet. "What is it, Alys?"

"We need yer help, m'lady," she panted. "I have no idea what ails him."

Elgarain gathered her supplies and hurried after the young healer. They made their way through the fortress, forced to slow their pace to avoid stumbling on the remaining bodies. At last, they entered the hall. The number of wounded was far too great to place them all inside the room. Makeshift beds of cloaks were placed in orderly rows. Though most were forced to lay upon the cold stones, not so much as a cloak to keep them warm. Pain screams and sobs filled the room, the sorrowful song of the wounded.

Alys led her to the far end of the room. There, shivering on the ground, lay an elven soldier. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide and unseeing, lips slightly parted as though frozen in a silent scream. Though there was no wound visible to her eyes.

"I fear we don't know much 'bout healing elves, m'lady," Alys muttered.

Elgarain placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, I will try all I can for him. Please have Lord Aragorn brought to me, as quickly as possible."

Alys nodded. "Do ye require anything else?"

"No, that will be all."

For a moment the young healer looked doubtful, but then decided to trust Elgarains instructions and hurried away. With a soft sigh, Elgarain dropped to her knees beside the Ellon. She studied his body once again to make sure there truly weren't any injuries, but part of her already knew there wouldn't be. His skin was cold to the touch and his heartbeat far too fast. These were symptoms of the mind.

During her stay in Rivendell, times had been relatively peaceful. The only danger was the occasional Orc attack from packs wandering the wilds. One time, a company of guards was attacked by such a pack. Among them had been a young Ellon, who had never seen death before. He was the only survivor, but only because the Orcs had believed him to be dead. Upon seeing his friends killed, the Ellon had fallen into a state of shock. His fëa had been unable to process the horrors he witnessed and lost the connection to his hröa. He'd been found by a young boy, who had returned him to Rivendell and watched over him as Lord Elrond worked on healing him.

The young boy was now a man, but as he came walking towards her and saw the Ellon on the ground, she could see in his eyes he remembered that day as clearly as she did. Aragorn knelt at her side, his movements slow from exhaustion and yet his eyes were still clear. He checked the Ellon's pulse, just as she had just done. Then, he looked at her.

"I know what Lord Elrond did to heal him," she said.

His eyes flickered to the ring on her finger. It seemed he already knew why she'd called for him.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

She offered him a grateful smile. His trust in her meant more than she could ever put into words. "Hold him still. He will start convulsing and that might break the connection."

He nodded and moved to hold the Ellon in a firm grip.

Elgarain sat down behind the Ellon and placed his head on her lap, like she had once seen Lord Elrond do. This required a different kind of connection like the one she'd made when she healed Gyda. Neither his hröa nor his fëa were wounded and so she didn't have to mend the bond between them. Instead, she would have to free his fëa from the cage he himself had built to protect himself from the horrors he'd seen.

She placed her fingertips against the Ellon's temple, took a steadying breath and closed her eyes. Vilya's guiding light greeted her in the dark behind her eyelids. The ring sensed what she wanted without her having to think or say it. And so, she entered the realm of spirits once again.

A pale, flickering light appeared in front of her. She recognized the shape as the wounded Ellon and carefully edged closer. Dark strings of shadow twisted around him, extinguishing the light of his fëa like a star fading from the sky. Every time the strings were pulled a little bit tighter, the Ellon writhed in pain. Sadly, that would be nothing compared to forcing him free and facing all the horrors he'd witnessed.

"Goheno nin," she muttered, though no sound left her lips. Then she started pulling at the strings.

Immediately she could feel his resistance. It wasn't like she could hear him scream, for no sounds seemed to reach that strange realm between worlds. Instead, she could feel the sound tremble in her very bones. Yet, she knew this was the only way she could help him.

The shadows were cold to the touch, as if her skin was slowly being covered in ice. The longer she held on, the colder it seemed to get. But Vilya was at her side and fought against the cold with a warm light. She knew no way to ease the process, so she focused on getting it done quickly instead. She pulled at the strings with all her might, but as she moved one, another took its place and tightened its grip. The Ellon winced and the world around her trembled. She waited with bated breath until it stopped, hoping Aragorn would manage to keep her patient still.

Only when the tremors stopped did she continue. Moving more slowly this time, she tried to untangle the shadows as though undoing a complicated knot. The longer she worked however, the more exhausted she became. It felt as though she was moving through water, until everything had become a blur and it was hard to breathe.

The shadows were too strong. She couldn't undo the damage that the darkness of battle had brought. No light would ever be strong enough...

Yet the healer within her refused to give up and she moved to pull at the strings once again. Her heart leaped in her chest when she finally managed to create an opening big enough to put her arm through. She reached inside and tried to take a hold of the Ellon, to pull him back towards the light.

His body seized violently, the shadows moved in closer, twisting around her arm. Instinctively she pulled back, at the same time losing all the progression she'd made as the gap closed again.

A voice echoed far away in the distance. Elgarain was vaguely aware of someone calling her name, but she ignored it. Her work wasn't finished.

A string of shadow moved quickly, a snake attacking its prey, and snapped its jaws shut around his torso. The Ellon writhed in pain and the sudden movement made the world flash brightly before her eyes. She gasped at the sudden loss of connection. Light, sound and smells all came rushing back to her far too fast as she was violently thrown back into the mortal world. She whimpered and covered her ears.

Aragorn's arms wrapped around her in an instant. He pulled her close, his body forming a shield from the assault on her senses, just like he had done back in Lothlórien. He was her tether to this world and his presence allowed her fëa to settle back into her hröa. Slowly but surely, the harshness of it all faded away. Only when she could breathe again, did Elgarain untangle herself from his embrace.

Despite knowing the sight awaiting her, she couldn't help but look at her patient. His eyes were glazed over, his muscles relaxed instead of wound tight. He was dead.

"I failed," she whispered.

Aragorn stroke her hair. "You did all you could, anarinya."

She could feel her eyes burning with carefully controlled tears. Exhaustion finally caught up to her, slowly breaking her mask of resolve and calm. She bit her lip to try and stop the tears, not wanting the other healers to see her break.

"Come," Aragorn said softly. He got to his feet, holding her hand as he pulled her up.

They left the healing rooms behind. Through the watery blur of gathering tears, Elgarain noticed he was leading her further into the fortress. The smooth stone walls slowly transformed into the natural rough surface of the mountain. The air was damp and cool, no longer filled with the stench of blood and death. The sudden quiet was like a blanket, covering her in comfort.

She blinked her tears away and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. The glittering caves, or the Aglarond in the tongue of her kin, stretched wide and tall. White stalactites hung from the ceiling, weather and time forming them into pillars of hardened salt. From the ground rose stalagmites to meet them like the earth was desperate to touch the sky. Little patches of sunlight came falling through the ceiling, making the drops of water glitter with rainbows. A stream to her right carved its way through the rock, forming a small lake before disappearing into the darkness.

With steady steps Aragorn led her down the lake. He got down on his knees, pulling her to the ground with him. Wordlessly he started cleaning her hands. It was only then she noticed the dried layer of blood painting her skin. A sob escaped her lips as she frantically started rubbing her skin to get rid of it. The blood of those she failed to save...

"Elgarain." Two calloused hands took hers gently. Aragorn's face was a blur through her tears.

"I couldn't save him," she sobbed. "I can't save any of them."

He shook his head. "Many of them are alive because of you."

She couldn't find the words to reply. He was right, of course he was but it felt as if admitting so was a betrayal to the dead. Instead, she watched as he continued to wash the red away. Slowly her pale skin was revealed and when he was finally finished, he brought her hands to his lips, kissing them with a tenderness that made her heart flutter.

"These hands are not the cause of the death," he said, his eyes holding her captive. "Don't ever tell yourself otherwise, my love."

Her heart hammered in her chest and she squeezed his hands in return. The usually calm grey now seemed to hold a storm. A trembling gasp fell from her lips and that was the only invitation he needed. He leaned in, his lips meeting hers. There was no way she would ever get used to the fire his touch ignited within her. It was all consuming, leaving her warm and yet shivering. Even if the entire world was dark and all hope was lost, she knew this would never change.

With the tip of her fingers, she traced the lines of his face, revelling in the way it made him sigh.

"I love you," she whispered, smiling as she leaned her forehead against his.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "And I you."

Pushing aside the burning need to kiss him once again, Elgarain forced herself back on her feet. "Come, there is still much to be done."

Aragorn let himself be pulled up and nodded, his eyes holding a certain pride that set her entire body on fire. "Indeed, there is."

Hand in hand they made their way to the exit of the cave and back into the fortress. The change in the air was instant and came with the stench of burning bodies and death. She gripped Aragorn's hand a little tighter, trying with all her might to put the shield around her heart back into place. As they climbed the stairs to the main square, Elgarain couldn't help but notice the way Aragorn tried to hide his slight limp.

She came to a halt and narrowed her eyes at him. Even after all this time she kept forgetting humans had far less energy and more need for sleep than elves did. "You need rest."

He looked at her with a small frown, the face he always wore whenever he was about to protest. But then his gaze shifted to something behind her and his eyes sparked with mischief. A look she had last seen when they were younger and chasing each other through the gardens of Rivendell.

Curiously, she turned around and noticed Legolas and Gyda standing behind them. There was something obviously different between the two of them. Maybe it was the way Gyda held his gaze longer than she had ever allowed herself, or the way they were standing just a little bit too close. But what surprised her the most was the fact that Legolas was holding her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Thank Elbereth." She laughed, unable to help herself. "I thought those two would remain silent forever." She was about to walk forward but Aragorn tugged at her arm, making her turn back around.

"Let them be for now," he said, the spark of his youth gone.

She raised a brow. "What did I tell you? You have grown too serious."

"So have you," he replied, giving her the same response he did back in Rivendell.

Once again, he was right. She knew better now than to force Gyda to express her emotions before she was ready. Oh, if only Galion was here now.

She sighed. "Alright, I'll pretend not to have seen a thing."

Aragorn smiled and started walking towards their friends. "I'm glad to see you two together...and safe," he announced their presence, his voice a little louder than it normally would have been, startling them on purpose.

Barely able to hold back a laugh, Elgarain just about managed to keep a straight face. It appeared Aragorn hadn't lost his childish mischief entirely.

Gyda subtly stepped away from Legolas and cleared her throat, whilst Legolas remained unphased by the teasing looks in the eyes of Elgarain and Aragorn and just smiled upon their arrival. "We've just found one another." She paused, taking note of their intertwined hands. "As have you it seems."

"I was in need of his assistance in the healing rooms," Elgarain explained. "There are more wounded than healers."

A sombre expression appeared on Gyda's face. "Are you..." She faltered, eyes darting to look at Aragorn and Legolas before back at Elgarain's pale face. "Are you able to keep up?"

Her stomach turned with dread as flashes of Gyda's fëa taking over her hröa during the battle came back to her. "Actually, I was hoping you could help me with something," she replied. Then turned Legolas and Aragorn. "Could you give us a moment?"

The man nodded at her. "We'll go help with repairing the gates," he said, kissing her forehead before taking his leave. Legolas followed, though not without one last look over his shoulder at the Head of her Guard.

No matter how much she wished she could talk about happier things, like how elated she was about Gyda finally allowing herself to be happy, there was another conversation they needed to have first. With all the work that had to be done, she had forgotten all about it. Or maybe it was just the excuse she needed not to think about it at all.

As soon as Legolas and Aragorn were out of sight, Elgarain softly took a hold of Gyda's arm and dragged her along to an empty corridor. "Please tell me we are not slowly losing our minds."

Gyda's shoulders tensed, worry clear in her eyes: "Whatever is happening, it is real and it is dangerous. Elgarain you look as if you should be laid to rest next to the dead."

She winced at those words, but knew them to be true. "I feel even worse and I have been ever since we left Lothlórien." She took a trembling breath. "I was hoping it would get better with time but I'm no longer too proud to admit that my strength feels like it's slowly, somehow, fading but that's not what scares me."

"Then what is?" Gyda asked, worried clear in her voice.

Elgarain lifted her gaze. "Before the battle at Helm's Deep, when the Wargs attacked and we were fleeing towards the fortress, I felt this stabbing pain." She held her hand against her side. "Right here but there was no wound visible. But then you returned and I saw it was you who had been wounded." Her voice started shaking. "It was your wound and somehow I felt it too."

With trembling fingers Gyda pushed her hair out of her face. "We both know Elgarain, whatever is happening, started when..." She took a deep breath. "When you used Vilya to heal me."

"You don't know that—"

"Vilya calling to me, your fading strength—Elgarain something went wrong. What if I get hurt during this war or worse... I-I can't have anything happen to you because of me."

Elgarain sighed as she went through everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Entering the spirit realm to save Gyda, the strange dreams they'd shared, Gyda feeling Vilya call out to her and now the way they'd shared minds or bodies or whatever it was that had happened. Something had indeed gone wrong...

"If something does happen, it is because of me," she said, feeling a stab in her heart. Aragorn had been right to question her use of the ring after all. "I used a method I hardly know anything about."

"I worry Elgarain, I truly do. I don't know what to do, how to protect you from this." Gyda admitted quietly.

She stepped forward and took Gyda's hand in her own, holding it gently. "Then let us find someone who might be able to help."

Her eyes softened, squeezing Elgarain's hand in return. "Would anyone know?"

"If only Lord Elrond was here," Elgarain sighed.

"He'd help only after scolding us." Gyda chuckled. "But I wish so too."

Elgarain smiled. "Perhaps we could use a good scolding for getting into this predicament in the first place." She'd barely finished when another name crossed her mind. "Perhaps Gandalf knows something?"

Gyda nodded, pulling Elgarain's with her by the hand, "We must find him quickly then lest you get worse."

The Elleth had to try her hardest not to stumble over her own feet as she was pulled along. She didn't want to show how weak she truly felt, but it was as if, now that she'd talked about it, her body finally allowed itself to truly give into it. She tried to focus on Gyda's steps, trying to fall into her rhythm as they walked until she found her own balance again. Things were looking far worse than she'd wanted to admit.

They followed the long hallways of the fortress, looking for a sign of the White Wizard. As they walked, she noticed most of the cleaning inside the lower levels was done. But the upper levels were still covered in bodies. Though most of the soldiers had been ordered to take some rest and resume their work in the afternoon.

She caught the first glimpse of Gandalf as they neared the gates. A white robe in a sea of black and red. Suddenly she wondered if he used some form of magic to keep it clean, because the wizard seemed to shine bright as a star in the darkness surrounding them.

"Lass!" a familiar voice called out behind them.

She paused, forcing Gyda to come to a halt as well. They turned around and watched as Gimli made his way towards them. She could tell by the way he walked that he needed sleep, but she knew better than to tell him so.

"Gimli?" she asked as soon as he reached them. "Is everything alright?"

The dwarf nodded. "The king is setting out for Isengard. He's asked us to join him."

"When?" Gyda asked.

"Now." 

°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

We're back!!

I officially finished college which means two things: I have to pretend to be an adult now and my hiatus is finally over! I'm so excited to be writing again, especially for this story. -voidlegends and I have so many fun things planned for this Act. I truly hope you guys will enjoy reading it as much as we do writing it.

Please leave some comments and votes. I'd love to hear from you all after all this time! A big welcome to all the new readers who have joined us, hope you enjoy your stay. I appreciate you all, new and old readers, so much!

See you all again soon!

xx Nelly

TRANSLATIONS:

Goheno nin ― Forgive me

Anarinya ― My sun

Fëa ― Spirit or soul

Hröa ― Body

NOTES ON LORE:

Fëa & hröa ― Fëa and hröa (fëar and hröar in plural forms) are Quenya words for "soul" (or "spirit") and "body". According to the Elves, the fëa is powerless without the hröa, and likewise the latter would die without the former.

Elbereth ― Varda (or Elbereth in Sindarin) is the Queen of the Valar, the wife of Manwë. Of all the Valar, the Elves revere her most because she created the stars. Calling out her name when in danger is comparable to calling upon a saint or angel for protection.