In Time

Chapter Seven

Amara's feet didn't touch marble as she vaulted over the railing and practically flew down the colonnade on Jassin's heels. "What happened?"

"I'm not entirely certain," Jassin called back. "Kenia and I were out on the terrace—"

"Out on the terrace? I told you to keep an eye on Mr. Oakenshield. Pray tell, how were you doing that from out on the damned terrace?"

The Healing Room never seemed so far away, and she was actually out of breath as she rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, her fury shooting to new levels at the sight of a pale, limp Thorin Oakenshield lying in a pool of his own blood, with an equally bloodied Kenia frantically trying to quell it with linen cloth upon linen cloth.

Amara grabbed a fistful of clean cloths and dropped to her knees beside Kenia, slipping a little on the red ooze spreading in all directions. "How long ago did he fall?"

"Only minutes, Amara. I sent Jassin for you as soon as we heard the thud."

"Move." Amara shoved her aside. "Get me the scissors. Now!"

Jassin pressed the silver scissors into her hand and she cut away Thorin's tunic and the blood-soaked bandages wrapped about his waist. Her stomach curdled at the horrific sight of torn stitched and shredded skin and muscle. "Needle, thread, and kingsfoil solution," she barked, tugging the old bandages off to pluck the split threads free.

A low, mournful wail rose to Thorin's lips. "I know it hurts," she muttered, tossing the soiled bandages over her shoulder, "but there is no time to spare numbing you, dear. I am so sorry, but this will hurt."

Jassin threaded the needle and passed it to her, then carefully flushed the area with the solution to give her a clean field with which to work. Taking the needle, Amara looked down at the semi-conscious dwarf and murmured, "Forgive me, Thorin."

"AUGH!" His roar echoed all throughout the chamber and most likely even along the colonnade and out into the courtyards. Perhaps all of Rivendell heard it, she wouldn't have been surprised at all.

"Kenia, Jassin, take his arms and legs and hold him absolutely still."

Each did as they were told, pinning Thorin as best they could and even so, he still fought, writhing to get away from them, from Amara as the needle went through his flesh again. His cries echoed around them, bounced off the walls, the floor, rang out until Amara's ears hurt from the sound and her heart ached from the primal agony tucked within each scream.

He tensed as she sewed as quickly as she could, biting on her bottom lip at his anguished cries. She knew it hurt, and knew how terribly so, but he was bleeding out and there simply was no time to make him more comfortable. Her hands shook slightly, her stomach curdled even harder, and she had to swallow the terrible brackishness rising in the back of her throat as she continued stitching and finally, Amara sat back and cut the thread. "There, love," she whispered, shifting to stroke his sweat-matted hair. "It's over. I am so sorry I had to do it, but it's over now."

Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes as he went limp, his breathing rough and shallow and ragged. Glancing first at Jassin, then at Kenia, she said, "We need to get him back into bed. Carefully."

"He is still in bloody clothes." Kenia pointed out.

"I will change them. The two of you go and wait out on the terrace. You seem to like it out there."

Both elves turned scarlet, but did as instructed. Amara rinsed the blood from her hands, drying them on one of the few squares of linen they hadn't used. She wouldn't attempt to wrestle him into a tunic of any sort. It would only cause him more pain and that was the last thing she wanted to do.