Prescient

Chapter Twelve: Healing

Fever hit well before she could arrive in Imladris' Halls of Healing, stomach rolling as she slumped back against Lendor and she groaned all the while. Why had she thought it a good idea to charge into a pack of forty orcs, she couldn't quite recall. Probably her pride as a warrior and the reckless streak she'd somehow managed to survive with – well, mostly, in any case. She had always been called reckless whenever she had charged into things in that brash manner of hers... never thinking about what would happen to her at the end. Sure, she thought about what would happen to others, but rarely had she ever concerned herself with her own health. She had always gotten injured one way or another, and it seemed a part of her no longer cared for that. It was why her lord had always called her a reckless fool... and told her she should value her own life more. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she thought about him, the fever making it harder for her to hide the evidence of her emotions. Her body alternated between feeling horribly warm and dreadfully cold, small moans escaping her even when she found herself collapsing forwards. Sweaty fingers could barely maintain their grasp on Lossenloth's proud mane. Anna wound up attempting to hug her beloved horse to stay on, all the while trusting Lendor to do something should she be about to fall.

Her silvery hair mixed with Lossenloth's white locks, sticking to her forehead and cheeks as sweat rolled down from her face. Time stopped having much meaning, and Anna was only lucid for long enough to realise they were being attacked by a smaller group of orcs on the route home before she went back to her blissful world of ignorance as Lossenloth sped up to a gallop. Her trusty horse would see her home – she always had.

The clatter of hoofbeats against solid paving stirred her from her fever-induced delirium, bringing the thought of her sickness to the forefront of her mind. Never had she wanted to throw up as badly as she did, but she kept it down. She refused to be sick in front of a bunch of people. That was the extent of her pride.

The clattering of another horse's hooves against the paving did nothing to help. She still wanted to find a quiet corner in which to throw up.

"Carvon?" an unfamiliar voice sounded.

Lendor dismounted behind her, and Anna only groaned weakly. She really would have preferred it if she had passed out. That way she wouldn't have to feel the horrible sickness as well as her fluctuating temperature.

"Summon Lord Elrond," Carvon ordered, no doubt aiding Therion off his horse as Lendor helped her down – though really it was less him helping and more him carrying her off her precious horse. "We bring news from his sons."

"And injuries too!" Lendor called, and Anna grunted at the loud sound which pierced her ears and made her feel that much worse than before.

"' can walk," she muttered, wishing Lendor would put her down on her feet, no matter how unsteady they might have been – but it seemed Lendor was not listening to her, though that may have been because she was half-delirious and occasionally rambling about random things. "Down?" Anna pleaded, grumbling as she felt herself rocked with the pace of his walking. No matter how smooth the elven gait was, she was ill, and she only felt everything that much more clearly. Corridors went by in a flurry of activity, and Anna soon found herself being placed on an oddly familiar bed which she patted happily. "Missed you," she mumbled, snuggling into the fluffy soft mattress of one of the rooms inside the halls of healing. It was a private room too – just like the one she'd been in before. Briefly, she wondered if it were the same before the rolling of her stomach took up the rest of her attention.

She hadn't experienced the effects of poison much before – the first age had contained more of the flaming and unpoisoned weapons variety. She missed that. Unpoisoned wounds hadn't made her feel as horribly sick, though they'd hurt far more.