Song for this Chapter

"Keep your eyes open! I am not even at full speed," commanded the king.

"My eyes are open," I said.

"You might as well be unconscious, for half the mind you are putting into this."

"That is unfair, My Lord!"

"You are not fully engaged. I can see it in your face."

"In my face?"

"You are not giving this everything you have. You are thinking too much. You must be fully concentrated upon this very instant, watching for my move, readying to counter. Do not think about anything else. Do not think about being a Lady, or about my being your king. Do you understand?"

I thought a moment and knew that he was correct. I was self conscious while fighting him, afraid to be seen as too ferocious or wild. Some part of me was, indeed, holding back, and he was far too masterful a warrior to miss this.

Raising my sword again, I thought of an orc. If I were facing a real monster, there would be no other idea in my mind but surviving, and so the king would have to be an orc--a blindingly handsome, unthinkably skilled orc.

It would have helped were he even the least bit hideous. But nevertheless...

I swung at him and he easily avoided it. I swung again, my face screwed up in concentration, and I came closer that time, but he countered so fast it took all of my mind to leap from it. He allowed no time for recovery, ever, just barraged me with an onslaught of lightning fast maneuvers where I could normality only manage to counter a few, here and there...until now, when I felt the satisfying clash of our swords. I blocked him for the second time in a row

I was certain my face was twisted in some sort of awful way, but it was working, and the fierce smirk upon My King's face told me that he was pleased.

"Better! You provide me a sliver of a challenge," he said.

The arrogamce. A sliver?

I dove forward with my thrust and he blocked me, and again, and again, until finally he missed my advance and in my overzealousness I marked him upon his left cheek with my sword. He held it, and winced.

"Oh, My Lord!" I rushed forward to look at what I had done, but his hand covered it. "I am so terribly sorry! Allow me to help. Please."

He waved me away with his free hand. "It is fine."

"But it is not. It is obvious that I've hurt you. But..." Upon closer look, I could see no blood anywhere around his fingers.

Certainly I had marked him deeply enough to draw blood. "You do not bleed?"

He lowered his hand and the area seemed perfectly untouched. It was impossible that there should not have been at least a scratch there. With an instinct to heal, I reached up to touch his face and he grimaced. The skin was colder there, colder than it ought to have been. I was perplexed. Then I recognized.

"An enchantment of the flesh? Do you hide your injury? I inflicted it...I would heal it."

"You did not inflict it."

I turned up my face in question.

"And you cannot heal it," he said.

"I do not understand. For I can see that I have surely caused you pain. And what use is a Healer to her king if you will not let me sooth you?" I looked at him with gentle, but pleading eyes. "Please."

He considered me for a moment, then said, "Not here. We will go to your chamber."

So I followed him at once from the garden courtyard and into the dim of the palace. In silence we walked the passageways to my chamber, and we entered, first the king, then myself.

He closed the door behind us.

Then he walked up to me and said, "What I will show you now...steel yourself. It is not for a delicate nature."

Again, I looked at him, perplexed, but nodded.

Then he closed his eyes, and, amidst what seemed a great deal of effort and concentration on his part, the skin of his cheek began to disintegrate before me, revealing raw, open muscle and bone and sinew.

He opened his eyes again, watching me.

I mentioned nothing about it, nor did I react in any way, other than to say, "Would you sit upon the chair, My Lord?"

He peered at me. "Would you not recoil to touch this?"

"Yours is not the first wound I have seen inflicted of an evil fire. And though I cannot heal it, I can sooth it for a while. Please...sit down, Lord Thranduil."

He did as I asked, and sat upon the high-backed chair, watching me carefully as I approached him. I stood close before him, having to place myself between his long legs to reach him properly, and lifted a hand, ready touch his cheek.

He said, "No medicines?"

"There is no balm can help this, My Lord... only grace."

Then I laid my hand upon his broken face, stroking my thumb over the muscle there, and he parted his lips and closed his eyes, the simple touch alone seeming to ease him.

I closed my own eyes, as well, and said, "Cam asie." Take comfort.

There was the familiar flow of warmth, which I urged from my hand into his injuries. Then the king's breathing became tremulous, and when I moved my hand just a bit, his own shot up to hold me there, as if fearing its removal.

"Always it burns, at least a little," he said, opening his eyes. "And yet somehow it is always cold. But not now. I feel...peace."

I smiled gently down upon him. "This will not last very long. It will fade. But...whenever you find it too burdensome, I am here, My King. I will help you."

He seemed to study me for a moment. Then he lowered his eyes and closed them again, reveling in the relief of my hand.

Very powerfully, I felt what seemed to me a cord, tugging upon my heart and pulling me toward him. I did not allow my mind to ponder it closely, for I did not dare. But I knew, with my hand upon his face, and his own securing its comfort remained, that there was now an ache in my chest for the king. And I feared to acknowledge its reasoning.

"Thank you, Laewyn," he said, quietly.

My jaw dropped a little. He had called me by name, without the formality of my title. It was an act of familiarity that I had not anticipated.

"I am happy to do it," I told him.

"Yes. For..." he looked at me again, "you and I are as friends, are we not?"

"Yes, My Lord. I am your friend."

"And I am yours."

"Yes," I said, smiling. I wondered if friendship was so rare a feeling for him, that he should seem bewildered by it.

A few moments passed in complete silence, and I gazed upon his closed eyes, his face nearly pained with relief.

Then, he removed his hand from my own and sighed. "I cannot remain this way indefinitely, pleasant comfort though it might be. And we must finish what we started with those swords. So let us go."

"Yes," I said, admittedly saddened by his sudden restlessness.

I followed him out of my chamber and into the corridor. As we walked, he said, "And mind your aim this time."

"Absolutely, My Lord. Although you did tell me to be more aggressive with you, so you might give me some parameters..."

"Yes, yes, well, you are forbidden to behead your king. Do you think you can manage that?"

"That seems reasonable...but I am still learning and I make no promises."

"You know, Lady Laewyn, I have never before locked a Healer in my dungeons, but there is a first time for everything..."

I smiled to myself. "I'll mind my aim."

"Mm, I thought as much."

---

While the king trained his Healer to be a soldier, I trained his soldiers to be Healers.

Or at least I tried. Some of them seemed to lack any inclination toward it whatsoever. These were inevitably the soldiers who had grown more hardened with battle.

The more they saw, the more numb they became, and numbness was the enemy of a Healer.

One of the greatest challenges of my calling was emotional. In order to truly practice the gift of healing, it required that my heart remain open. This meant that, through the ages, as tempting as it might have been to dull my emotions, which some elves were prone to do after enough time, I invested deliberate effort in doing nothing of the sort. This meant that I wasn't terribly good at stoicism. Nor was I very good at hiding my feelings. I could bite my tongue, never speak a word, and it would still show upon my face.

"I saw Feren earlier today. You certainly make him very happy," I said to Tauriel.

She and I had worked together today, and were seated side by side at a long hall table.

"I feel the same way," she said.

"I can tell."

"My Lady, if I may ask, how is it that you never found love? You are most wonderful..."

"Oh. Thank you," I said. "And I do not know," I told her. "It is not that I havent a world of it to give, but that no elf ever felt right to me. I had no strong inclination toward anyone in particular, and as one binds their souls eternally by marriage, it seemed too big a risk to take when I felt so little for my prospects."

"I understand. I would not have inclined to marriage before this."

"Before this?"

"Yes, I mean..."

"Has Feren asked you to be his wife?"

"Yes," she said, joy in her eyes. "But...we are worried."

"Worried about what?"

"The king."

"The king? I don't understand. What has he to do with you and Feren?"

"Only that he has expressed doubts, in the past, regarding the wisdom of personal distraction in a position such as mine."

"Tauriel, that is ridiculous. He has no right to try and dictate your heart."

"He believes he knows best."

"Yes, well, he is wrong in this. It is cruel. If he believed you distracted on a battlefield because of love, imagine your distraction from grieving it."

"Yes," she agreed. "I wonder... I am sorry to ask and I do not wish to be too forward. But, you seem to have a way with him. A softening way."

"Do I?"

"Yes, My Lady. We can all of us see it. Can you not?"

"I hadn't thought about it. But I am a Healer, and I find that many people react differently in my presence. Perhaps it is the same for him."

"Yes, it is just, I wonder...I wonder if you might have a word with him," she rushed out. "If you might get a sense for how he would treat a betrothal and perhaps even paint it favorably?"

"I see," I said, giving her a reassuring smile and laying my hand upon hers. "Yes, my dear friend, I will certainly try to sway him. And I will not let on that we have spoken of this."

"Oh, thank you!" she said, leaning over to wrap me in a hug.

It was the first embrace I'd known in months. I sighed. "It is my honor to stand with love," I told her.

--

I determined that I would address the issue of Feren and Tauriel at first opportunity. The sooner I might help them, the better.

As it was, my next opportunity was during swords practice with the king.

"You are very nearly at a point where I might consider this a fight, " he said, moving with his usual minimality while I jumped about like a mad person with great effort.

"That's..." I blocked him, panting, "a relief."

"Indeed. I should like to see you fight Feren again. I wonder how that would end now."

"This is a good questaah!" he marked me with his sword tip on the shoulder, but did not cut me there.

"Pay attention," he said.

"Do you think," I said, blocking his next thrust, "your servant might be surprised?"

"I believe he would."

Was this nearly a compliment?

"Yes," I went on, seizing the opportunity. "He is in good spirits these days. He smiles..."

"I have noticed."

"And...your Captain is to thank for that."

"I have also notice--miiind...the hair, please," he said of my next sword swipe.

I smiled guiltily. "Sorry, My Lord. Eh...as I was saying. I think they make a lovely pairing."

"I would not know."

"But, you have seen yourself that Feren is happier. And that is wonderful, is it not?"

"Happiness is second to duty," he said. "Their affections are permitted so long as they do not interfere with the good of our kingdom."

"Permitted." I stopped my maneuvers entirely, not at all concealing the disapproval in my voice.

"Yes. Permitted."

"Surely you would not seek to control the hearts of others, My Lord. Love cannot be permitted. It is a force of its own making...of the making of fate, which is greater than all of us."

"Fate? Fate does not show mercy, and must be countered. Love can make us foolish and rash," he said, lunging for me again with his sword, and I blocked him.

"It makes us better. It makes better, My Lord. We must fight for it..."

"We fight to survive!" He cut toward me twice and I returned it with all my might, thrusting my sword so quickly that I found myself standing directly before him with its point to his chest. He looked shocked.

"You are dead,' I said. "And we survive to love. It is the underpinning purpose of our very existence, otherwise what is the point of surviving at all? If we lose sight of that end...we have little chance of winning this war."

He was surpringly quiet now, and I could see I had managed, through some miracle, to take him off guard.

"It is possible," he started, "that I view love from a standpoint of creating weakness. Perhaps I am a bit...harsh in that regard."

I lowered my sword. "Perhaps a little, My Lord," I said more gently.

"Yes, well, let us turn attentions back to our swords. I am not one to be prodded long on a subject," he said, cautioning.

"Prodded. I was merely making a poin--"

"You were nagging, Laewyn," he said.

"I was not nagging. I do not nag."

"You do and you were."

"I most absolutely did...was...not."

"And now you are arguing with your king," he said, with no small amount of aggravation, and yet a little smile played at the corner of his mouth.

"My Lord, I wonder, were I an elf of the male persuasion, and speaking to you passionately on a subject, would you call it nagging then? Or does this only apply to females?"

"Are you suggesting I have a prejudice against your gender? My own Captain of the Guard is a woman."

"That is not the same. You value fighting over all else. You would have respect for her simply because she is skilled with a weapon.

"As for weapons, you are getting there...and I admire who you are. Even moreso now," he said, throwing me off.

"My Lord, you...you cannot distract me with a compliment."

"That was not a compliment, Laewyn. It was the truth. I do not waste idol words on flattery. You are much improved. And I think highly of your mind and your gifts, or I promise you I should not be standing here giving of my valuable time listening to you at all."

I suppose I could have argued further, but his last words gave me enough affirmation that he might take my thoughts into consideration, and in turn, I hoped he would view a possible betrothal between Tauriel and Feren more favorably.

It was the best I could do for now. I had a decent sense of him...enough to realize that prodding him further would be counterproductive.

"I see. Well," I said finally. Then I lifted my sword and assumed my stance once again.

----
Chapter 8, coming soon!