"Some things that should not have been forgotten were lost."
Eru Ilúvatar. The Creator. The Father of all within Eä. It was he who began it, the shaping of the universe and its inhabitants. He bore knowledge in all things; knowledge of things that w...
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2933 TA. March 7th. Eastern Eriador. The Elven Kingdom of Imladris ﴾Rivendell﴿ A fortnight succeeding the attack upon the EldrithèmKingdom
Scarcely had he left her side, the suffering she endured due to the poison was great. Nevertheless, he felt the haunting remanence of his past unbridled fear course through his veins. Never had he driven himself or Felaróf so vigorously. He did not stop, not for bread or breath, nor rain or respite. He could not stop. He would not stop. He rode to the very near end of himself.
Alabẙran sat with his back bent, his posture spoiled as he rested his elbows upon his knees and his hands clasped beneath his chin. His gaze remained transfixed and unwavering upon the sleeping girl lying before him in the large bed. She lay motionless. The steady rise and fall of her chest provided a comforting reminder that her fëa remained within her hröa.
She had been tended by Lord Elrond himself, as there was none more capable than he to cure her of her deathly ailment. The green elf was permitted, from a distance, to remain hereabouts as Elrond's experienced hands worked carefully yet swiftly. Removal proved scarcely an easy task, for the arrowhead was barbed and lodged deep within her breast. He drew what poison he could from the site, staunch the bleeding, then spilled Linquë Súrisse over the wound. The tincture was potent and known for its enduring effectiveness to stave off Hellebore.
It was a difficult endeavor for Alabẙran, having to render Lord Elrond assistance. Both emotionally and mentally. The girl convulsed violently beneath their hands. They fought to retain a hold upon her form without bringing her further injury. Elrond was swift to give the command, "Lie her head upon your shoulder and grasp it there!" He was seated upon the bed, the girl inclined against him as he followed his instruction. Lord Elrond's nimble fingers grasped firmly around her jaw, moving her mouth to open. Forthwith he drew from his pocket a curious thing. A wide wooden crescent wrought of oak and swathed in leather. Protruding from the high-point of the arch was a handle, polished and smooth, akin to that of a teardrop.
The iatrical object procured elicited a blatant and unmistakable reaction from Alabẙran, one that did not go unnoticed. The green elf's head cocked to the side, his brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. The look splayed across his face was one of pure confusion and curiosity. 'What in Ilúvatar's name...?'
"An aegis." Elrond explained, "Heretofore she has endured much. I would see that she retains her tongue henceforth!"
Ere long the girls form quitted, allowing for the prolific elven healer to administer Fuiyáru. A task that proved to be nearly impossible amidst the onset of the girl's writhings. It was a consumable, potent tincture known for a different aspect, to aid in the suspension of convulsions. It took multiple attempts, yet they managed to get enough of it into her to satisfy Lord Elrond. In the end, despite their little need for sleep, both elves found themselves unusually weary and in need of respite.
