The ElvenKing [A thranduil fanfiction]

Chapter 17

Greenwood T.H 2048

          The second we entered my room, my knees buckled and Voronwë had to keep me upright while we moved to the bed. I was positioned there before he helped me open the leather straps to the quiver and sword strapped to my back. I winced when the weight shifted off me and reached for my shoulder again. Voronwë hesitated but helped me ease out of my armor in the least painful way possible, leaving me only in the tunic that made up the base of my uniform.

The healer entered not long after, a bowl in hand and a bag swung over his shoulder, which were like the one Ûtridien always carried around. He looked at Voronwë who shifted away to give him room by moving to the opposite wall. He leaned against it with his arms crossed against his chest. It was first then that I had time to look at him. He seemed to be unscathed except from a small cut on his forearm.

But before I could do much more than notice, the healer placed the bowl down on the bed right next to me. It reclaimed my attention before he looked at the tunic I were still wearing. I quickly opened it, wincing occasionally until it fell around me on the bed. Voronwë turned away because I was left in only my undergarments as the healer began cleaning the wound.

I scented the herbs instantly and recognized the same concoction Ûtridien always used when he cleaned up wounds. My surprise must've been visible because the healer chuckled. "Ûtridien was my teacher once. I have learnt much from him, but my skill will never be his equal." He admitted when I winced because he touched a particularly sore spot. "I am the one they call Nestarion. I was one of Ûtriden's last students before he left Greenwood."

I placed my hand against my chest and extended it in respectful greeting while he continued working with the wound on my shoulder. It took some time before Nestarion had finished cleaning it and it had stopped bleeding so he could sow up the deepest indentations. When he finally reached for the silk bindings after making sure his hands were clean, I couldn't help but release a sigh of relief.

But I regretted it when he tightened the bindings causing me to cry out in pain before he released me. I kept a hand over the wound, the bindings tight but not uncomfortable. "You need to rest for the next few days. Do not resume your guard duties before the wound has healed. You will not be able to wield a bow or a sword during this time." Nestarion arched a brow at me until I nodded in agreement.

"A word of caution." Nestarion extended the look to Voronwë before he continued. "I would strongly advise against either of you going near our king for the next few days. Thranduil might not remain collected enough to see reason. His son means more to him than words can describe." Nestarion reached for his bag of herbs. "What happened last time, still remains fresh in the Kings memory. He vowed that the next who dared try to hurt Legolas would not receive the same mercy that was extended then, let alone make it out of the Kingdom alive."

"Now." Nestarion turned to Voronwë and extended a hand to him. "Give me your arm, please." It was with quite a bit of reluctance that Voronwë pushed away from the wall while opening his armguard. He held it in one hand while pushing his sleeve up, gaining access to the cut so that Nestarion could tend to it as well. Once that had been cleaned and bound as well, Nestarion took his leave.