Elendor

(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 44 - The Healing of Thorondur

Thorondur, still mad with a Morgul wound seems possessed. He is healed through Elven-love and a good hard slap on the face by Indilzar Bragollach.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Amon Thranduil
Description:
Middle-earth time is:
Daytime on Trewsday, Day 2 of April.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 13:39:26 MST on Sun Jan 07 2001.

-----------------------The weather around Amon Thranduil-----------------------
Clouds cover the spring sun and
the wind blows off the surface of the Long Lake to the east.
It is mild and refreshing out, despite the overcast sky.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Along the Balcony, Western Corner
You stand upon the balcony overlooking the splendid Hall of Laurelin, easily fifty feet below. The balcony itself is made of pink marble, and is bounded by a likemade rail. As you walk along it, you are struck by the magnificence of this kingdom, which in itself is a tribute to the lost glory of Menegroth. A passage leads away west from the balcony here, and a staircase descends from here into the hall below.

Contents:
Indilzar
Rhuarc
Obvious exits:
Northeast leads to Along the Balcony, Northern Corner.
Down leads to Hall of the Laurelin.
West leads to Fountain of Oropher.
Southeast leads to Along the Balcony, Southern Corner.


"There is a bit of recent history that your folk may have interest in, while you remain in the region." Rhuarc says as he reaches the top of the steps and begins walking towards the southern corner of the balcony that overlooks the hall.

"Oh?" inquires Indilzar, "What would that be?"

Remaining two steps behind Indilzar, Drenlyn's ears perk, as he stares forward at Rhuarc, eager for knowledge.

"There was a man I met not a year ago in Lake Town, one which claimed to share a common homeland with your people." The elf pauses a moment as the group nearly arrive at the southern corner, "Indeed, he had the look of one of your folk, but there was something else to him which was not of your kind."

You walk along the balcony, amazed at the skill which wrought it.

Along the Balcony, Southern Corner
You stand upon the balcony overlooking the splendid Hall of Laurelin, easily fifty feet below. The balcony itself is made of pink marble, and is bounded by a like made rail. As you walk along it, you are struck by the magnificence of this kingdom, which in itself is a tribute to the lost glory of Menegroth. A passage leads south here, sloping slightly upwards as it goes.

Contents:
Indilzar
Rhuarc
Amantir
Obvious exits:
Northeast leads to Along the Balcony, East Corner.
Northwest leads to Along the Balcony, Western Corner.
Out leads to Entrance Hall.

"What was the man's name?" asks Indilzar. "Two of our kindred traveled this way some three years ago. His name was Numandil, and with him journeyed his nephew, Naerdil."

Eagerly following the conversation, Drenlyn's eyes dart as they seem to record every name that passes through both elf and Knight's lips. Eyes sparkling with mixed excitement, Drenlyn's step is light as he eagerly follows Rhuarc.

Rhuarc laughs and shakes his head, "I would not be proud to lay claim to this one, though he claimed to be from the Gondorian realm of Dol Amroth." He grins, "In any event, I had heard tale of both of these men from Celeborn's scouts during my last visit to his wood. This man gave us no name, though why he would not when he so eagerly revealed other things to us which would describe him more clearly than any mere name would, I cannot guess." He takes a glance back at Indilzar, searching for something.

Entrance Hall

Just inside the gates, a hall hewn from the hill houses a guardpost and serves as a hub from which several tunnels radiate. The main tunnel leading deeper into the heart of the hill is a gently sloping affair, warmly lit by flickering torches set regularly in sconces along its twisted way. No dark tunnels of dwarves are these, despite what may be said of King Thranduil's nature! A dim echo of the halls of Menegroth, the air here is sweet and wholesome, as if the plants and trees carven into the walls and ceiling were alive and breathing into the caverns.

The great gates to Thranduil's caverns are closed.

Contents:
Rhuarc
Elven Guard
Obvious exits:
East leads to Armory.
West leads to Stables.
North leads to Along the Balcony, Southern Corner.
Out leads to Great Gates.

Indilzar nods and says, "Strange. I wonder who it might have been? What did he look like?"

Rhuarc nods approvingly at Indilzar's ignorance and laughs, "Pale, tall. Clad in black, with eyes he could make glow with a simple sorcerer's trick."

The Guard orders the gate opened.

The great gates open smoothly and silently.

You pass out through the gates of the city.

Great Gates

Before you rise the majestic gates of the Elven King's subterranean kingdom. Rising nearly 60 feet in the rockface of the hill, the immense doors are formed each from a stone of singular proportions, unweathered and smooth. Their margins are capped by heavy ends of metal which clank and reverberate in the twisting reaches of the tunnels beyond every time the cunningly wrought magical gates swing shut. Enchanted as they are, the doors part only for citizens of the realm and a handful of elf-friends.
Contents:
Indilzar
Elven Guard
Obvious exits:
Enter leads to Entrance Hall.
Terrace leads to Terrace Before the Gates.

Indilzar considers, "That sounds like no Man of Gondor that I have ever heard. Indeed, you are not the first to speak of this person to me either. This one had been among the Beornings."

Rhuarc nods. "Aye. This sorcerer has caused no end of trouble to my kin and others. A man from the other side of the Misty Mountains named Estel even came and offered a reward for the capture of this fellow."

Rhuarc shrugs it off, and makes his way towards the terrace.

Terrace Before the Gates

In some time in the distant past, the massive granite of Amon Thranduil's southwestern face was shorn clean away, leaving a sheer stony face nigh upon ten-fold the height of an elf. At its uppermost margin, where it begins sloping more gently backwards towards the crest of the hill, beeches crowd its edge, reaching their limbs eagerly out towards the free space beyond.
Fourteen broad steps - one for each of the Valar - fall away towards the Taurduin which rushes dark and swift and strong between its banks nearby. A well worn path, straight as an elvish arrow, traverses through the small stand of trees between steps and river and crosses over a stout bridge to be lost in the depths of the tangled wood beyond.
In the rockface itself is set the tremendous stone gateway to Thranduil's caverns, and at its feet at the top of the stairs is a smooth, broad terrace, its edges bordered by the soaring trees of the wood. You must either add a seasonal description (ie. &descnight.lightSpring) or add a normal &descnight.light to the room. See Thranduil for help.

The sky is overcast.

Contents:
Rhuarc
Obvious exits:
Gates leads to Great Gates.
Down leads to Great Stand of Beeches.

Indilzar nods, "If I see him, we shall lay him in irons."

Rhuarc laughs, and shakes his head, "If you see him, it shall be at a time of his choosing. He has eluded the greatest hunters of this realm, the western rangers, the sons of Elrond, and Aiwendil. I would suggest you be wary."

Great Stand of Beeches(#17240RVntof)

Sweeping around a southeasterly bend in her course, the Taurduin river encircles a great stand of beeches that rise tall and proud within the embrace of her clear-rushing water. Her banks are spanned by a stout stone bridge to the southwest, and over it crosses a well travelled path straight towards a flight of broad steps and the magical gates to Thranduil's caverns in the north-east, at last taking a direct route after the tortuous twisting it endured in the depths of Mirkwood on the other side. A smaller path follows along the river's banks towards the east, soon winding out of sight among the dense trees.
The trees come right down to the bank, feet dipping in the river, and they rise impossibly massive and tall, just as pillars carven in the likeness of beeches once rose to the ceilings of the thousand caves of Menegroth.

The trees are tall, casting a flickering shadows with your light, and the earth between them feels damp and cool in the mild nighttime air.
The faint glint of a lone star sparkling high in spring sky the finds its way through the tangled limbs overhead, but is quickly hidden once again behind dark clouds.
Contents:
Rhuarc
Obvious exits:
North leads to The Beeches.
Northeast leads to Terrace Before the Gates.
Southwest leads to Bridge.
Northwest leads to Training Hall of the Tirith Eryn.
East leads to Mal Taurduin at the Willow.

Indilzar is silent and then says, "Your houses of healing are among the trees?"

Rhuarc nods and raises a brow, "You would think a healing house would be better were it confined in a case of stone, perhaps?"

Mal Taurduin at the Willow

An ancient reminder of Nan-Tathren of old, a venerable willow grows twisted and gnarled just south of the path. The girth of his massive trunk is enormous, deep wrinkled folds clad all in smooth brown-grey running bottom to top along its entire weathered length. His feet hold him fast to the river's edge some sinuous toes delving deep into the earth while others twisting emerge from the bank to play with swirling eddies in the cool currents of the Taurduin. Overflowing from his crown and limbs, a sea of withes tumbles out to greet ground and water with their light kisses, in spring their lengths aflutter with silver-bellied leaves hanging down in a trailing halo where not even the massive beech nor proud oak dare drop their seed. On either side, the old willow is flanked by ground sprouting and green, as new growth pushes its way through the spring shower-soaked ground to open colorful blossoms wide to the sun's warming golden rays. The river grows quite wide and its currents quite peaceful here.

Doubtless the lantern of Ithil shines silvery somewhere in the sky, but alas here his moonbeams are hidden and scattered by the clouds that crowd the spring vault overhead. The Taurduin's waters slip by quietly in the nighttime light garlanded by hosts of multicolored wildflowers, their whisper-soft singing sweetens the mild air. From hiding places safe on the banks of the river, the high pitched peeping of innumerable frogs pierces the nighttime wood.

Contents:
Indilzar
Rhuarc
Forest camp(#6303Ven)
Obvious exits:
North to the Grove of Yavanna leads to Derenlim (Oak Grove).
Southeast leads to Mirkwood Path.
West leads to Great Stand of Beeches.

Indilzar laughs for a moment and says, "Nay, I come from the world of Men, and there are no forests as to this one where I am from."

Rhuarc furrows his brows, and stops a moment to think on that.

The pause his short, and the elf shakes his head to clear it, saying, "I have seen many things, yet lands without forests near at hand? A queer thought. Though I suppose I can imagine your wonder at a place such as this."

Indilzar nods and says, "There are forests in my land, but nothing near the size of this one."

Though the stand of oaks to the north appear to be a trail-less way, Rhuarc turns toward it and, somehow, a path seems to emerge to meet his step.

Derenlim (Oak Grove)

Growing in the lee of Amon Thranduil's southeastern edges, massive oak trees stand together, ancient companions, in a grove of subtle strength and beauty. Each individual tree has grown with spreading limbs and wispy twig fingers, rough brown bark mantling them all with scales that run over every contour, every knot, every branch on every unique bole, bestowing upon them each character incomparable.
To the east, further from the rock toes of the elvenking's hill, the trees thin somewhat, growing less in stature and substance, if gaining in youthful exuberance. In the northeast, a structure woven of living limbs is nestled snugly amongst the oaks, with but the faintest of trails leading through the open understory towards it, while to the north where no trail marks the serene beauty of the grove there is faintly glimpsed a cleering, and the glitter of light caught upon a pond.
To the west looms the great hill, boulders tumbled in years long past scattered about its feet amongst the trees. Upon steeper ground the oaks have not taken root, and shaggy barked hemlocks have taken this opportunity to crowd the rocky slopes with their needle clad limbs. The downhill side of every treetrunk and every stone is coated with grey-green lichen, an eerie picture when viewed from below where everything, plant and mineral, growing and lifeless, blends into a hazy green tapestry.
Your light plays on the looming trees surrounding you, but they are not foreboding, rather, it is comforting to know that these massive oaks are watching over the grove while Isil makes his journey across the vault of the sky. Faint glimpses of firelight flicker through some branches to the northeast, indicating the presence of a cottage, while various dim openings in the surrounding trees betray the presence of paths leading out of this clearing. The ground underfoot is soft with a layer of new spring grass, and the mild air is filled always with a soothing comfort, a feeling that nothing evil could ever penetrate this holy grove.
The sky is overcast, and the light all but the brightest of stars, Morwinthi, is hidden in the clouds.

Contents:
Indilzar
Rhuarc
Obvious exits:
NorthEast leads to Healer's Lodge.
West leads to Aeriaun o Ivann.
East leads to Ivaladhand (Orchard).
North leads to Lhantaelin (Lake clearing).
South leads to Mal Taurduin at the Willow.

Indilzar follows the elf silently...

Healer's Lodge

You find yourself in a small, comfortable lodge, where intertwining limbs, bushes and vines have grown into living, breathing walls. The floor is carpeted with soft animal furs, and the sweet scent of dried herbs hangs faintly in the air.
In one corner is a large stack of scrolls, their yellowed parchment worn from centuries of loving use. On a shelf above, equally venerable tomes are neatly arranged. Along one wall are exquisite shelves of intricately carved and smoothly polished oakwood laden with bottles and jars of herbs and colored liquids beneath which there is a large workbench. Sitting on the tabletop are a mortar in pestle, well stained with use, as well as orderly stacks of smooth wooden bowls of graduating size. In the center of the floor is a small cooking pot hanging over a stone fireplace where the fire never dies. Few candles light up the room and chase away the dark nightshades, casting a warm light that plays among the bottles on the shelves, creating glowing spots of color that shift with every flicker of the candles. Carved into the hearth stone of the fireplace you read these words:

My sleep is dreaming.
My dreaming is meditation.
My meditation is Mastery of Wisdom,
the wisdom of all that was, is, and shall be.

You realize that you are in the lodge of the healers of Amon Thranduil, menders of bodies and spirits, guardians to all who pass through the door.

Contents:
Indilzar
Rhuarc
Healer's Log
Obvious exits:
Doorway leads to Talafolvar (Herb Garden).
Infirmary leads to Infirmary.
Out leads to Derenlim (Oak Grove).

Indilzar steps into the hall and then says, "Which way friend Elf?"

The infirmary is now visible through an oaken arch at one side of the room. The elf smiles reassuringly and motions for the men to follow.

Infirmary

You enter a warm and inviting room, the infirmary of the Eryn Galen. The floor is covered in thick animal furs, and the aroma of drying herbs fills the room with a comforting fresh scent. Light occasionally glints off the glass doors of several large cabinets and the rows and rows of jars that they hold. There are several large beds in the room, each with a fluffy mattress of goosedown and spread with a light cotton blanket and beautiful quilt to guard patients against the still cool spring nights.
Candles glow brightly from their wall sconces, their flickering light casting restless shadows on the walls. In the center of the room, a low fire burns cheerfully in its stone fireplace, a few kettles of water ever hanging ready over its flames.

Contents:
Indilzar
Rhuarc
Thorondur
The healers apprentice, Estelloth
Obvious exits:
Out

Candles flicker faintly in their sconces here, small yet solemn guards against the night. In the hearth, a fire burns cheerfully, its occasional snap and crackling the only sound. Thick furs cover the floor, and warm quilts the beds. Light, and warmth, and comfort: a cheery place unlike the drear and disconsolate healing halls of Men, in their far South-Kingdom.

Only a one of these beds lies occupied, and beside it the elfmaid, Estelloth, hovers in curiosity and concern. Asleep, her charge is a form beneath his blankets -- no more than a shock of raven-dark hair, to the eye.

The elfmaid lifts her eyes, when visitors arrive. "Rhuarc," she whispers, smiling.

Indilzar steps into the infirmary and glances about, looking for his colleague. He then looks at the elfmaid and bows grimly, "Hail Lady."

Rhuarc nods to Estelloth and glances about, grinning, "Eilialhenel is not lurking about, ready to sweep us all away with the slightest twitch of her proclamation device, is she?"

Following the Knight, Drenlyn smiles to the lady, and bows silently, leaving the formal matters to Indilzar. His eyes straying to the occupied bed, Drenlyn remains silent, though he stifles a light chuckle at Rhuarc's comment.

The elleth looks shyly at these proud and masterful Mortal Men, but her voice is firm. "He sleeps," she tells Indilzar, simply. "Faenwen found him in the forest, near the borders. He has... not had an easy road."

Yet her fellow-elf brings her smile back. "She told me she would return, and soon. Be on your toes."

Indilzar does not smile. His stern glance is now set and he says, "Where does he lie? Let us look upon him."

Rhuarc nods, and in an instant is on his toes, stepping aside to allow the men access to their comrade.

Estelloth gestures to the bed -- the very one she stands beside, the only one here occupied. And without further speech, she stands aside.

Indilzar steps forth and looks upon Thorondur, the light casting deep shadows upon his face, "Here lieth a man astern and sunken. Ashcraft riven from the tops of mountains has casted him down low as if the wrath of some god of old had descended to mar fair fields. Yet was it his sin that brought him to such a state?"

He looks now to Drenlyn and his grey eyes are filled with sorrow, "For if aught else, a man of action is a man to uphold. No shirker was this one. Though if he was negligent in his duty not just to you dear Drenlyn, but to all of us, then let us remember that baleful woe that had smitten him down into the dust. Long are the leagues from Gladden Fields, and if any healing can be found, it shall be among this elder kindred."

"Woe without and at bay," continues Indilzar, "but here may the shadow pass so that he can ride fair and afield again."

And beneath the long and eloquent speech of Indilzar, the man abed stirs. Thorondur it is, in truth, though as he turns from his side, yet in slumber, his face is revealed -- and it is changed.

Handsome still, and fair to look upon -- yet wan he has become, and gaunt, and pale most of all.

Rhuarc turns to Estelloth with a look of simple curiosity, "Although I can guess at least part of it, what is the nature of what ails this man?"

His eyes moving slowly, and solemnly between Indilzar and the sleeping Thorondur, Drenlyn's smile fades quickly. Bowing his head down Drenlyn sighs, and wipes a stray tear driven forth by the both the words of gloom from the Knight, and from the relief upon seeing the Herald's body whole.

"Indeed he journeyed into darkness and has now return. And though he has been negligent on this matter, I will remember the great turmoil that he must have suffered in his absence...That perhaps is punishment enough."

Indilzar motions to Drenlyn, "Take his hand squire, for he loves you more than I. For I am but a colleague, while you are as if almost a son. Perhaps an immortal sleep is upon him... but look he stirs! Thorondur? Thorondur Girithlin? Awake."

Now does the elfmaid quiver, and softly she says, as if with fear, "He was wounded by the blade of the Ulairi, and fallen beneath the shadow of their despair. From his speech, for in his dreams he has spoken much..."

Her melodious voice trails off, as if uncertain. She watches instead, as Indilzar calls him, but the sleeping man wakes not.

Indilzar glances at the Elf-maid, "Alas! A knife of the Morgai is fell indeed. But has it been removed? Was there any part of it left within?"

"No knife, Man of Gondor, but a sword. The sword of their fell Captain," Estelloth says. And it would seem as if a shroud of that selfsame darkness falls upon the room, at that.

Indilzar shudders involuntarily and says, "How did you find him? How did he come to this place?"

Estelloth glances to Rhuarc, and says to Indilzar, "I have already told you what I know. Faenwen found him near the border."

Kneeling beside the sleeping form, Drenlyn takes the Herald's hand, and strokes it gently, calling out his name softly. Great pain is in his face, and he looks up towards Indilzar, muttering, as if he repeats a legend heard of long ago, "A knife of the Morgai..."

Turning back his sad face Drenlyn's eyes are intent upon the face of the Herald, as if trying to bring the Knight to life by willing it. The words fall upon the squire's ears, but now recognition is not given them. Deep thought, and great sadness can be read in Drenlyn's downcast figure, but no more.

Rhuarc nods and sighs. "I remember when last I saw that beast. I do believe my insults and song concerning the impotence of his order hurt him more than my arrows." He looks towards the men, "Though surely he injured my body much more than I harmed his pride."

And now, though still he sleeps, the fallen knight speaks -- but his words come from a great distance, and are whispered through cracked lips. His hand in Drenlyn's is cold and clammy.

"They came in the dark, came up through the mines and the cellars. The south gate overrun, the sorcerer lead them! Arvegil, where is Prince Arvegil?"

Startled by the voice from Thorondur, Drenlyn calls to the Herald in a soft, but firm voice, "Thorondur...Thorondur! Return, return to the light. It is I Drenlyn, your squire. Return to us Thorondur...escape the darkness and return...Thorondur!"

"Cardolan? Cardolan is dead," whispers the sleeping knight beads of sweat gather on his brow, and his dark bangs plaster to his skin. "Dead these long years and now Fornost falls... the Prince! Where is the Prince, the King has fled--"

Indilzar watches grimly and then approaches the bed and takes Thorondur's other hand and says, "Gone and gone, but they live on. The light is not dimmed, nor is hope."

Rhuarc stands silently, suddenly intent on the actions of the men, and seeming to see... something more than the eyes of the assembled men see.

"The Shadow is at the gate," Thorondur rasps, gritting his teeth in the nightmare, "and the King has fled to the Sea... the Sea... we will fall to Carn Dum, and may the Valar keep our souls. Where now is Gondor... Gondor... the Shadow comes..."

Infirmary

You enter a warm and inviting room, the infirmary of the Eryn Galen. The floor is covered in thick animal furs, and the aroma of drying herbs fills the room with a comforting fresh scent. Light occasionally glints off the glass doors of several large cabinets and the rows and rows of jars that they hold. There are several large beds in the room, each with a fluffy mattress of goosedown and spread with a light cotton blanket and beautiful quilt to guard patients against the still cool spring nights.
Candles glow brightly from their wall sconces, their flickering light casting restless shadows on the walls. In the center of the room, a low fire burns cheerfully in its stone fireplace, a few kettles of water ever hanging ready over its flames.

Contents:
Indilzar
Rhuarc
Thorondur
The healers apprentice, Estelloth
Obvious exits:
Out

His eyes still bearing down, Drenlyn finds no words, his face wrought with concern and pain.

"Hope lives on...it does live on..."

Speechless now, Drenlyn's eyes dart around the infirmary, confusion and sorrow written on them. Nay the squire's face comprehends naught what the Herald speaks, only names of vague histories do his ears receive. And yet once more his gaze turns to Thorondur, his eyes blazing with hope and grief, but words can no longer pierce the inner turmoil that this simple squire holds.

Indilzar chants softly,

"Gondor Gondor between the Mountains and the Sea!
West Wind blew there the light upon the Silver Tree
Fell like bright rain in the gardens of the kings of old
Oh proud walls, White Tower and Throne of Gold!
Oh Gondor, Gondor! Shall Men behold the Silver Tree!
Or West Wind blow again between the Mountains and the Sea?"

He looks at the fallen knight and says, "Return now! Your errand is not done! Awake and return to your kith and kin."

In the room, the candles flicker as if in a breeze -- yet there is no breath of wind upon the skin. Thorondur's eyes flutter, and open, crystal and blue. Upon Drenlyn, he looks, and Indilzar, and the Elves beyond them at the foot of the bed.

"I am not slain," he says in wonder. "Is Angmar then defeated? Has Glorfindel come at last?"

"Angmar is gone," says Indilzar without mirth, "and you are Thorondur the stalwart of the House Girithlin, not least among the knights of Dol Amroth and servant of the Prince Imrahil in his castle by the Sea."

"Elendur is Prince of the House Girithlin," argues the Knight, weakly, struggling to sit up, "and Dol Amroth is many leagues from here--"

To Rhuarc he looks, now, and wonders, "Am I in Lindon, then? Has the war been ended?"

In answer, Rhuarc takes up Indilzar's tune, replacing the words with,
"Gondor, Gondor, far from river and the wood!
Speak, good man, that you might be understood!
To present times return, to the great wild forest!
Hear your friends call, do not dare ignore us.
Come back now to my home among the trees,
That you may return to Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea!"

Indilzar frowns and then with a glance back at the healer his eyes twinkle grey with wroth, "I grow tired of this..." He then SLAPS Thorondur right across the face, "THORONDUR! This is Indilzar! You can go to hell, or you can help me recover the damn sword! Get up now you bastard!"

Squeezing Thorondur's hand as the Herald's eyes open, Drenlyn's eyes alight with more hope, until they seem to shine...or perhaps the glimmer is only tears held at bay.

Silent is he, this kneeling squire at his Knight's side, for no words can he find now, his relief being so great. Confusion sweeps across his face as he stares blankly at Thorondur, neither comprehending his words, nor Indilzar's actions.

Blinking, Thorondur seems puzzled by Rhuarc's song, and yet within his eyes a bare sparkle returns -- dashed of a sudden to a thousand splinters by the wrath of Indilzar. In his weakened state, the slap snaps his head to the right, and away --

And slowly his head comes around, a look of vague incomprehension upon his face. "Indilzar? Drenlyn? Where am I?"

Indilzar nods grimly to Drenlyn, "You are in Amon Thranduil, in their house of healing. And might I say you have caused quite a stir with us wondering what will-o-the-wisp you were chasing."

Rhuarc nudges Estelloth and asks, in an amused tone, "Why did you not try that before, mellon?"

The elfmaid smiles wryly, and replies with a laugh, "His face was too handsome, mellon."

Standing up amazed, still grasping the Herald's hand, Drenlyn gapes, "Thorondur, it is good to hear your words. I feared the worst, and now..."

Unable to contain himself, Drenlyn lets out a laugh, a light tear streaking across his cheek. Pulling his other hand across his face Drenlyn kneels once more, and lays the Herald's hand on the bed.

Indilzar rises and then his words are stern, "Now, I suppose you are about to spout some speech or two Lord Herald. Well I shall have none of it. Rather, rest. How do you feel?"

The Herald's face darkens at these words from his brother-in-arms, and Thorondur says only, "Do not ask me where I have been. I have no wish to remember it yet." There is a surety in his speech that can be naught but the promise of fear, until his squire stirs by his side.

"Drenlyn," Thorondur says in wonder, glancing down to the youth, and then to the Elves. "The wood-realm? I have come even to Eryn Galen? Then... it was no dream? But who was she that brought me hither, if not Tinuviel, as that much, at least, I know for a vision."

Rhuarc laughs, and smiles to the awakened man, "She will be a most flattered elf when she hears such a comparison, I am sure."

"I would not know it," says Indilzar, "rather, I need you well. Do you realize how difficult it is for me to try to smooth over all the strange folk we have been meeting. I constantly have been asking myself: Where is the herald? The herald would know. Well now, here is the herald, and there is no shard of Anaril here."

Slowly, the convalescent lifts a hand to his brow, and their runs slender fingers through dark, lank waves of hair. A look of awe remains upon his face. Yet to Indilzar he turns now, and he says, "The Shards of Anaril! Indilzar, I -- I remember now! By the shores of Nenuial..."

Into silence Thorondur says nothing more, stunned speechless by his own last words.

A gentle breeze, the fresh scent of spring verdure borne gaily upon it, breathes sweet life into the infirmary as the door to the lodge is flung open, and a figure who walks with the assurance of centuries behind her enters the door. There is mild surprise on her features to be greeted with the sight of men in her refuge, growing with the words of the convalescing human... finally mingled with a frown.

She steps in further, clearing her throat in the silence following his words.

Indilzar looks at Thorondur puzzled for a moment and says, "Say no more. Sight seems to have fallen upon you, even as it did to me in the groves of the Dreamflower. Yet now, I need to know and tell me the truth: How are you?" He glances back to the healers, "When can this Man leave this place?"

"Do not ask me how I am," says Thorondur, slowly, as if returning to the present, "for I cannot say I know the answer."

Rhuarc laughs and nods to the prone man, "Indeed, you did not know who you were but a few minutes ago."

Smiling beside the bed, Drenlyn looks on, only happiness swimming over his face. Speechless is he, all but one concern washed away...the one remaining, centered around the words that he yet does not comprehend.

Standing and turning swiftly around, Drenlyn looks upon the new come elf, with thanks and appreciation, though it seems that the squire's tongue, which once spoke freely and often, is now silent.

Indilzar now glances at Thorondur and says, "Well then, I will not, but I will ask others." He smiles blandly and says, "A long road is yet before us and our quest is not fulfilled."

Creases growing rapidly deeper upon her brow, the healer fixes her silent gaze upon Indilzar for a moment before turning to Rhuarc and voicing a query in the common tongue of the wood-elves.

Rhuarc fights back a smile and answers in as serious a voice as he can muster, "You are in the infirmary, my dearest." He walks over to her, still on his toes from Estelloth's request, "Are you also not well?"

Eilialhenel fixes the clan-chief with a withering look, crossing her arms about her willowy frame and tapping a bare foot impatiently upon the floor.

"Too long a road, I begin to fear," says Thorondur into the silence, long moments of thought behind him since last his kinsman spoke. "And dark foes are allied against us, I think. There is a hand of malice guiding these blows against us, Indilzar Bragollach. A dark mind that wishes our doom."

Rhuarc falls to his heels and laughs, responding to the look, speaking now in the tongue of the wood-elves, "... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..., .... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..., ... ...."

"Already some of the company has taken hurt," says Indilzar, "yet it is no surprise that the Enemy would wish our doom. Whatsoever the case we must be vigilant, and now more secretive."

He then turns on his heels and says, "Rhuarc. Can you detain the woman Kaide here until we are far on our road? I do not trust her despite what she did for Rowaen."

Then for the first time Indilzar looks upon the elf-maid Eilialhenel and he bows, "Forgive my discourtesy Lady..." He is yet captivated by the wondrous beauty of the Fair Folk.

The indelicate snort, as of a mare disturbed, blows through the healer's nostrils at the patrol-master' words, and deigning him no more time, she floats smoothly to the bedside.

"Which discourtesy would that be?" she inquires with musical accent. "Introduction? Or perhaps speaking of such foul matters in my house?"

She pauses to draw a deep breath, and shakes her head. "They have no place in this room," she states with finality.

And yet for his part, Thorondur's eyes are drifting towards sleep, and weariness threatens to overtake him. Arguments around him fade swiftly into the world of dreams, as he falls back to the pillows, exhausted.

"For introduction and lack of it," says the black knight, "yet all the same I am Indilzar Bragollach and I give you greeting of courtesy."

Rhuarc laughs lightly as Eilialhenel brushes past him and he turns to watch the maiden go about her work with an amused smile.

Nodding as Indilzar talks of the Maiden of Shadows that newly accompanies the quest, Drenlyn says, I trust her not. A fair mask this Kaide the Daggerless wears, but a young maiden who wields poisoned daggers should not be trusted."

Startled by the elf maid's words, Drenlyn bows low to Eilialhenel. No words does he yet speak to her, but his face expresses his thanks and apologies.

"I am Drenlyn, squire of Sir Thorondur here, who you and your kind have assisted. For that assistance I am grateful, and I apologize for darkening your bright halls with these matters of darkness."

Rhuarc clicks his tongue and shakes his head at the words of Drenlyn, "Although I am inclined to agree, this is, of course, not quite the place for this discussion." His eyes flicker towards Eilialhenel, "Especially not in present company."

"Aye, your name I already know," responds the healer to the Lord Bragollach, extending the comment to the squire as well. "My name is Eilialhenel, among others," she mutters as she bends and peers closely at the man in the bed.

She mutters to herself in indecipherable tones, before straightening and asking intently, "What roused this man?", then posing a second question of Rhuarc.

Smiling towards Eilialhenel, Drenlyn says, "Aye, I remember your presence at the meal."

Quickly cutting in before Rhuarc can answer the question Drenlyn continues, "'Twas only the gentle hand of the Lord Indilzar, my lady. He is skilled sometimes in awaking those that are asleep. That I have experienced myself, and can speak for his virtue."

Rhuarc laughs and nods, "Aye. The hand-shaped mark on the sleeping man's face speaks volumes of Indilzar's gentleness." The elf looks to Eilialhenel then, and says, "Though it was Thranduil who permitted these men to look upon their friend. Think not that Rhuarc would willingly lead these men into your realm without permission!"

"The I question the meaning of 'gentle' in the land of stone. Are all those who slumber awaked with such welts upon their faces?" Eilialhenel inquires with bitter tones.

"Aye, they are my lady. For from our youth we are taught that a swift cuffing in the morning is better than an Orc's axe in the belly. Once we learn to wake when we are commanded, then we will no longer need to feel those welts. The Lord Thorondur, did not wake when he was commanded, and so the Lord Indilzar invoked this teaching."

Smiling down towards the sleeping Herald, Drenlyn sighs, "And lo! It has worked and the Herald is himself, though I believe that Rhuarc did more by his sweet voice to bring back our Knight than the hand of Indilzar."

"And even so..." Eilialhenel begins scathingly, only to fall silent. "The foul stench of darkness in this man's wounds has poisoned even the air here, I deem! Ai!" she laments.

Taking a step back from the bed, she turns her gaze upon the stars flickering beyond the trees outside the window and sighs. "Smile your benediction upon us here, Yavanna," she implores softly, and even as she does... can it be? Do the dancing jewels in the sky flicker brighter with her words? Does the air grow sweeter in the infirmary?

Or perhaps it is aught but the softening of Eilialhenel's features, and the gentleness that returns to her voice when she speaks again: "Still, he has returned to his slumbers, as well it should be. Have you satisfied yourself that it is indeed your lost companion, and that he will recover? Or is there further errand that you have in this room with the sleeping man?"

Rhuarc smiles warmly at Eilialhenel, and shakes his head, "I know I do not, though ever do I have a hard time taking my leave from this place." He nods then and says softly, "I will go now. I shall see you again soon."

Smiling now, as he breaths the air deeply, Drenlyn replies, "Yes my lady, we are satisfied. This is our companion, and he has been cared for most skillfully. I thank you my lady for all that you have done. May Yavanna bless this place of healing such that the evil that we have brought will be washed away."

Bowing low once more to both of the healers, Drenlyn turns to Rhuarc before he departs, "Rhuarc, I ask one thing of you ere you leave. I must return to my companions and I know not the way. If you could suffer your self to lead a moody squire, such as my self, back to his comrades, I would be most grateful."

Rhuarc nods to the man and says, "I shall, so long as the lady of the house has nothing more she needs of me?"

"Do not make me slap you, Rhuarc!" replies Eilialhenel with a mirthful smile. "Take the man to his company!"

Rhuarc winks and dashes out of the room, shouting, "Follow quickly, o Dour-Handed! Even the forest trembles at such threats!"