Song for this Chapter

Rough branches pelted me in the face as I ran at full speed through the Mirkwood with Tauriel and the king.

Our guards had been attacked by warg wolves. I feared what we might find when we reached them.

And I was not wrong to be afraid.

Three guards, including Gurdis, lay bleeding upon the ground.

I assessed, quickly, whose wounds were most dire, then ran to my student Healer, who I could see had lost much blood already.

"Tauriel, help Nerion, if you can."

She rushed to the second most wounded elf, and King Thranduil watched with a look of frustrated concern as we leaned over his soldiers.

"Oh, Gurdis," I said to the young Guard. She was frightfully wounded. Her stomach had been lashed open and I found myself pressing it back together. She gasped and sputtered for air, clearly in agony.

I prayed over her with such intensity that I became dizzy with the effort of it. Her wounds were as grave as a wound could be and it took such effort to try and capture enough grace to give her any chance of living.

Little by painfully little, her flesh began to join together, first internally, and then on the surface. But she was barely breathing now, and I could not tell, for certain, if she had lost too much blood to recover.

I looked over at Tauriel, my eyes drooping, and she looked every bit as drained and frightened as I was...moreso. But Nerion was sitting up, the claw marks on his chest still deep gashes, yet there was no bleeding.

I turned my eyes to the third Elven Guard and noted that King Thranduil was kneeled beside him. The Guard's face and shoulder had been badly slashed. The wounds were not likely mortal, but they were painful.

"Tauriel," I said. "Have you strength to attend Gurdis for a few moments more? I will help the last Guard.

"Yes," she said, taking my place.

I crossed to the third soldier and kneeled down beside him, opposite of the king. Then I took some cleansing cloths and wiped his wounds, applying my poultice and praying.

"Your hands tremble," said the king to me.

I did not respond, but finished giving my grace to the soldier,  whose demeanor grew at once relieved.

"Thank you, My Lady," he said.

"You are welcome."

I sat back and took a deep breath.

"Are you all right?" The king asked.

"I am all right. Gurdis is gravely injured."

"It took much from you?"

"Yes, but I will be recovered quickly. I worry for her..." But even as I said this, Gurtis began to stir. "Oh, thank the Valar."

King Thranduil's face fell and he looked upon his injured soldiers, shaking his head. "We've had no wargs here in some time. It is worsening."

"It is, My Lord," said Tauriel. "Every week that passes, it seems there are more threats in our woods."

"And how long before they are at our castle door?" he said.

"Yes."

I had only ever seen a warg once, far outside the boundaries of Lorien. It traveled amongst a group of orcs and it was so powerful that it took a few of our soldiers to fell him with their arrows.

Now, three of the dead creatures lay scattered around us. I had not looked at them yet, first because I was healing our Guard, but also I did not wish to see them.

Still, I knew that I would have to firm up my courage for these things, for one day I may face them alive, and I could not afford to be frozen in shock or fear.

Thankfully, all three of our fighters survived, although Gurdis would not be among her Guard for a while until her body had healed. I forbade it.

Now, after the day's trepidations, I sat in my chair and held a scroll in my hands. I was writing Lorien. I wanted to update Uncle Celeborn of everything that had happened in the last several months of being here.

I did not know where to begin.

"My Dear Uncle Celeborn," I said out loud. "First I should like to know why you deceived the king of the Woodland Realm when first I came here," I feigned a message. "I should also like to say that the king is most terribly handsome, very complex and mercilessly sharp tongued, and I fear he is...he is stealing my heart, which is quite unfortunate, as his is already occupied for all eternity... Please advise."

I sighed at the empty scroll, rapping on it with my fingers. Then the rapping turned louder.

Someone had knocked upon my chamber door.

I pullee a blanket around me before answering. I was not cold, but I was wearing a gown for lounging, and it was not terribly modest. Then I opened my door.

"My King."

"Lady Laewyn."

He said nothing, and I waited a moment,  looking on expectantly. It was unlike him to be hesitant for words.

"I am sorry to disturb your well-earned rest, but...may I come in? Please."

"Of course you may."

I stepped aside and allowed him in, then closed the door behind us.

The King looked around, as if deciding whether to sit or stand, then said, "Today...it has made me think," he began.

"What about?"

"In the woods...with my Guard. All I could do was wait there, watching him suffer while you and Tauriel did something about it. I felt..."

I neared him and looked up with encouraging eyes. "What did you feel?"

"I felt...helpless."

If ever he had looked perplexed, it was now. For if there was anything King Thranduil was not, it was helpless--with the exception of one heartbreaking occurrence in his life.

And now, again, apparently, today.

"I see," I told him.

"Yes, but I am their king. If anyone should be able to help them, it is me. Teach me," he ordered. "Please," he said, more softly. "Show me how to do this. You were so tired today, after only one grave healing. It is too much to ask of just a few should we face a battle. I... I want to know what to do. I will not sit and watch one of my own Guard suffer having defended his kingdom if I might help them. I will not feel helpless."

I stepped forward and took his arm. "I will show you," I said determinedly. "Come, My Lord."

I would need to sit close beside him, and as I had but one chair, I told him to sit upon the edge of my bed, which he did, and then I took a seat beside him.

"My Lord...do you remember anything at all? From..."

"Yes. The prayers. She said the same words that I've heard you whispering. In the old tongue."

I sat deliberating, torn as to whether I should tell him this was quite impossible, as a Healer's prayers were as personal to them as their own voice. I had found these words in my heart many ages ago. Still, I did not want to inflict further pain upon him.

"Then we shall use my words," I said. "But first, you must have a sense of your grace. And you remember what I told Gurdis? About the warmth..."

"Yes."

"All right. Then take your hand, and place it upon my own." I lifted my hand, palm side up.

He rested his own there, and at the warmth of his skin, I felt a jolt that traveled straight to my chest. I prayed its impact did not show in my face.

"Now. Close your eyes, and in your mind, ask for grace," I said.

He closed his eyes, and I waited, but he snapped them back open again, and said, "It is not working."

"My King...one must humble their heart to receive it. Soften your heart."

Reluctantly, he closed his eyes again, and again we sat in silence for a while. Then he sat suddenly upright, pulling his hand from mine.

"What...what's the matter?"

"I felt it," he said, amazed.

I laughed quietly. "Then why did you pull away?"

"I suppose I was taken off guard."

"And that is quite normal, My Lord. You will quickly learn that it is nothing to fear."

"I was not afraid," he defended.

"No, of course not," I said, but I knew that he was.

Again I held out my hand to him, and he laid his own upon me, and we began anew.

This time, though he sucked in a bit of a quick breath when he felt the flow of grace, he did not pull away.

"Good," I urged gently. "You've got it. Now,  with your mind, move the warmth into your shoulders, your chest,  into your arms..." I gave him a moment. "Are you managing it?"

"Yes. My arms," he said, trying endearingly hard not to break his concentration.

"All right. And then from your arms into your hand, and then into mine."

He breathed with the effort, his eyes closed tightly, and then I felt a heat, as if I'd placed my hand in the midst of a sunray.

"You are doing it, My Lord. I can feel it."

He smiled, his eyes still closed. "I would try to touch your face. Where the scar remains."

There had been but the smallest of scars left from the ring of the drunken Woodsman at the port city. But the king had noticed it.

Then he raised his hand from mine, eyes still closed, feeling for my face. I took hold of it and placed it upon my cheek.

"I must call it back again," he said. So I waited for him to find the light and after only a short time, it swelled from his hand and into my skin.

My breath caught at once and I swallowed hard.

"Do you feel me?' he said quietly.

"I feel you, My Lord," I breathed out, my voice wavering.

Then I lifted my own hand. "Shall I touch your burns?'

He nodded, and so I took the left side of his face in my hand and called forth my grace, and when it found him, he opened his eyes and looked deeply into mine.

His hand he moved a little from my cheek and the warmth faded, but his thumb he pressed below my mouth, brushing it just beneath.

I stared at him, breathless and wide-eyed, at the way his gaze had fallen upon my lips, and the touch of his thumb, so close that I need only have lowered my face a breath to feel it upon them.

Never could I recall my heart having pounded so loudly in my chest in such a way that was not from fear.

I dared not move. I did not know what to think, nor expect. I only knew that I did not want his hand to leave my skin.

And yet, I had no right to it. I never would.

"My Lord?"

At the sound of my address, he pulled away abruptly, his eyes averted. "That, that was enough for now," he said, and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "I should go." He stood quickly.

"Yes. But, My Lord, wait." I stood as well. "Before you do...I wish you to know that you have a strength for healing. You managed to find your grace with little effort, and you moved it with a skill that others would not possess so quickly. You are an older soul...you are closer to grace than any of us. And you have retained more than you know. You can do this, My Lord. You need only practice and have faith in yourself."

He stood, halfway facing me, and still not looking me in the eye. "Thank you. I shall...I shall practice then," he finished, crossing for my door.

"And...will I be teaching you?"

He paused to consider this, looking intently upon some inane object upon the wall or the floor, I could not tell. Then, "I will come to you tomorrow. Goodnight,  Laewyn."

I was only half finished saying, "Goodnight, My Lord," before he'd shut the door behind him.

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Chapter 9, Coming Soon