Chapter
2
Orophin
brushed a stray strand of hair off of his brother's sweat-
soaked brow. Haldir had fallen ill shortly after learning of
Rúmil's
death. No one had said so aloud, but Orophin knew Haldir was
fading.
He had pleaded with Haldir repeatedly not to leave him, but
his older
brother was past all reasoning, knowing only grief. He would
allow no
others near him; only Orophin could tend him.
Orophin
was exhausted. He'd had little rest since they got the news
and had ignored his own grief as he took care of Haldir. He
too would
fade if he did not get a respite soon.
He
rose as he heard a knock on the door. Opening it he saw Anoriel,
an old friend he'd courted for a while some centuries ago. She
smiled
softly at him. "Orophin, the Lord and Lady wish to see
you
immediately." She said. She laid her hand on his arm as
he looked
back at Haldir. "I will sit with him until you return."
He smiled at
her; though it had not worked out between them they had remained
friends and he knew he could trust her.
"Thank
you." He replied. "He's sleeping now, should he wake
he may
look for me. If he does - please try to keep him calm. He's
not let
anyone other than me near him; it is fear, I think. I will try
not to
be long."
"We
will be fine." She assured him. "Just go." With
one last glance
at Haldir's still form, Orophin left.
He entered the Royal Talan and bowed to the Lord and Lady. He
wondered what they could want that was so important he had to
leave
Haldir's side.
Lady
Galadriel smiled at him. "Orophin, please sit down."
He nodded
and sat in the chair to the Lady's left.
"What
can I do for you my Lady?" He asked softly.
She
looked sadly at him, seeing how thin and pale he had become.
Celeborn was right, this could not continue. Rúmil would
not have
wanted his brothers to fall apart.
"My
grandsons arrived a short while ago." She said. "They
brought
news from their home; it appears that one member of Rúmil's
patrol
made it to Imladris." Orophin gasped.
"Who
was it my Lady?" He asked, though he did not really think
it was
Rúmil.
"We
do not know, Orophin." It was Celeborn speaking now. "Whoever
it
is was badly injured and has not been conscious since he was
brought
to Rivendell." He looked at Orophin. "We want you
to go to Rivendell
and identify him."
Orophin
was shocked. "With all due respect, My Lord, the chance
that
it is Rúmil is - minimal." His voice was so quiet
it could barely be
heard. "Please, My Lord, I cannot leave Haldir."
"Orophin,"
Galadriel placed her hand on his. "I realise that it is
unlikely that this elf is Rúmil. But you are making yourself
ill by
ignoring your own grief. You will not heal until you have had
time to
accept the loss of your brother. Likewise, Haldir will not heal
while
he continues to cling to you. The loss of Rúmil has been
hard on all
of us. I would not lose you and Haldir too."
Bowing
his head, Orophin nodded. Though the Lady spoke gently, it was
clear there would be no pleading with her.
Celeborn
stood and gestured for Orophin to rise also.
"Come."
He said. "I do not believe you have met my grandsons."
Sadly,
Orophin rose and followed his Lord.
They
left the room and walked a little way to an airy chamber where
a
table had been laid for dinner. Sitting at the table, having
just
finished eating, were the twin sons of Elrond. As they entered
the
twins stood in respect. Celeborn smiled. "Orophin, these
are my
grandsons. The one with the blue broach is Elladan; the one
with the
green broach is Elrohir." He turned to the twins. "This
is Orophin.
He will be accompanying you to Imladris and will remain there
until
the injured Elf has healed." The twins smiled and greeted
Orophin
warmly.
After
another brief conversation with the Lord and Lady, the three
younger Elves left the talan together.
"Is something wrong?" Elladan asked as they walked
down the stairs.
The Elf beside him seemed unusually quiet.
"Forgive
me," said Orophin softly. "My brother was amongst
those lost
in the mountains. I was thinking of him."
"I
am so sorry!" Elrohir said with deep sympathy. "I
can only imagine
how hard it has been for you. But is there not a chance that
the Elf
we found is your brother?" He did not want to give Orophin
false
hope, but it had to be said.
Orophin
shook his head.
"It
is unlikely. Rúmil led the patrol; most likely he was
the first
to fall." He closed his eyes in an attempt to compose himself.
The
twins were silent; it was most probably true. Elladan laid a
comforting hand on Orophin's arm.
Orophin
sucked in a long breath. "My other brother has been ill
since
we lost Rúmil. I must speak with him and make arrangements
for his
care before we leave."
"Of
course," Elladan said, "dawn will be soon enough.
We will meet
you at the stables."
"Thank
you," Orophin all but whispered and headed back to Haldir.
Re-entering
his talan he found Anoriel waiting for him. "He hasn't
woken." She said, "Though his sleep is troubled."
"I
know." He acknowledged. "Anoriel, the Lord and Lady
have ordered
me to go to Imladris. They think that neither Haldir nor I will
heal
while he relies so heavily on me and I devote all my time to
him.
They are probably right, for they are older and wiser than I,
but I
cannot leave him alone. He needs someone to care for him."
He looked
hopefully at the maiden.
She
smiled and placed her hands in Orophin's. "I will care
for him,
do not worry. He will be safe with me."
"I
thank you." He replied, squeezing her hands. "I must
leave at
dawn; feel free to use my room for as long as I am away."
************************
Elrond
observed the pale bandaged-swathed figure on the bed. The Elf
still breathed and for that he was grateful. Still, the longer
he
remained unconscious, the more unlikely his recovery became.
It had
been days now and the pale elf had not moved. Elrond sat down
and
placed his hand on the Galadhel's forehead.
"Awaken,
awaken now, my friend." You have dwelled in the darkness
long enough." He called to the Elf, trying to will him
back to Arda.
A slight movement made him look down and he smiled as he saw
the
Elf's eyes flicker. So severe were the Galadhel's injuries that
his
eyes had been closed, but now they began to open again. "Welcome
back, my friend." said Elrond with a smile. "I have
been most
worried."
Blue
eyes, glazed with pain, stared up at him. The Elf opened his
mouth to speak but all he got for his efforts was a searing
pain in
his throat. "Please, do not try to speak." Elrond
told him
gently. "You have been badly injured." He put one
arm round the
injured Elf's shoulders and held him up while with the other
hand he
lifted a small cup. "Drink this; it will help with the
pain." He held
the cup to the other's lips.
The
Galadhel swallowed and Elrond hated to see the warrior fight
back
tears as the liquid aggravated the raw wounds. "I am sorry,"
he
said. "I know it hurts, it will ease soon." The Elf
only nodded
weakly as Elrond laid him back down. He was asleep again within
minutes.
Elrond
sighed sadly. Sooner or later, he was going to have to tell
the Elf about the extent of his injuries.
************************
Orophin
said little on the way to Imladris. The twins carefully
avoided the path where the messenger patrol had been attacked,
though
they had found and burned the corpses on their way to Lórien,
they
did not wish to inflict further pain on Orophin. For his part,
Orophin drifted between grief for Rúmil and worry for
Haldir. The
twins did not bother him, but one of them was always close by.
They
kept a watchful eye on him, making sure his grief did not hit
too
hard now that he had time to dwell on it.
He
was grateful for their silent support and he had a feeling he
would need it more in the months to come.
Often
he found himself wondering what had gone wrong, how a group
of
bandits had defeated a patrol of Galadhrim. Had they been heavily
outnumbered? Had their deaths been swift? Orophin couldn't bear
to
think of Rúmil suffering a slow, painful death. The Valar
knew he
didn't deserve that. He wished he had answers and he hoped the
remaining member of that doomed patrol would be able to provide
them.
************************
Elrond
sat down besides the sleeping Elf. It had been several days
since the Lórien elf had woken and though he slept a
great deal, his
sleep was the normal open-eyed Elven sleep and he was coherent
as far
as Elrond could tell. His throat seemed to pain him less, though
all
attempts at speech had failed, much to his distress.
Now
it was time for the truth.
He
gently shook the Elf's shoulder, careful not to aggravate the
many
injuries. "I am sorry to disturb you, my friend, but I
must speak
with you." He said quietly. The Galadhel must have heard,
for his
eyes lost their faraway look and came to rest on the Elven lord.
Elrond took a deep breath. He was loath to do this; he did not
even
know the Elf's name. With both his hands broken, the Galadhel
could
not even write it down. But this could wait no longer.
"My
friend," He began, "When the orc sliced your throat,
it did much
damage. You were lucky it did not kill you. I repaired the damage
as
best as I could, but I could not repair it all. Your vocal cords
were
sliced so badly by the blade I could not salvage them. I am
deeply
sorry to have to tell you this, but you are no longer capable
of
speech." Blue eyes opened wide in horror and shock. "I
wish I could
tell you that it will heal in time, but I cannot. Not even Elven
healing can help - the condition is permanent."
The
elf went even paler and shook his head. Denial was written
plainly on his face. His eyes begged Elrond to take back those
words,
for it not to be true.
"I
truly am sorry." Elrond said sadly. "I can only imagine
how
terrible this is for you. But you are not alone in this. I have
sent
word to Lothlórien, I am sure they will send someone
here for you. I
am here for you too, and all those in my household. We will
help you
get through this."
The
Elf turned away and buried his face in the pillow. Shock
threatened to overwhelm him at the horrifying news. He had known
his
injuries were severe, but he had never imagined this. Tears
threatened to spill from his eyes and he tried to force them
back as
he took in the awful truth.
Mute.
He'd never speak or sing again.
In
that instant it hit him how much he relied on his voice. The
simplest things, asking a question, saying good morning or giving
an
order would be impossible now.
//Why?//
He thought desperately. He didn't know what he'd do now.
What was left for him? He could see no use for a mute Elf. As
despair
engulfed him he found himself wishing he'd died with the others.
Elrond looked sadly at the shaking body of the Elf. He prayed
to the
Valar that the Galadhel wouldn't choose to fade.
END
CHAPTER 2
