𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

34| a new hope

I wrapped my fingers around the shaft of the arrow.

Aragorn knelt opposite me, ready to help within a moment's notice. The pounding of the Uruks against the door reverberated through the hall, each pulling me further and further into a downwards spiral of tumultuous emotions.

I took in a breath in an attempt to calm my racing thoughts. My hands were trembling.

I'd never healed someone else before with Amarya, who knew what it would be like? Did I even have the knowledge to do so? Would I be forced to watch him bleed helplessly as I had done countless times before?

"Daeriel," Aragorn placed his hands over my shaking hands and interrupting my flurry of thoughts. "You are the only one who can save him. You will not fail him."

I nodded, forcing myself to calm down with a few sharp inhales and exhales.

The arrow was plugging the wound, restricting some of the bleeding.

Once I pull it out, Valar knows how long I would have left.

The scene of my father lying, bleeding on the ground flashed across my mind, just as Legolas did before me now; blood staining his clothes, strength fading away.

I couldn't save my father. I had watched as he bled out before me.

This time was different.

Maybe this time, I could save Legolas.

I was his last hope. I had to do this.

Aragorn gave me an encouraging nod as I turned back to Legolas.

"I'm sorry, this will hurt."

Legolas nodded his head weakly, his breaths shaky as he tried to ready himself for what was to come.

I drew in a breath, tightening my grip on the arrow.

"No enni Îdh," I whispered a prayer to the Valar above, "togo laugas lín nestad enin gûr hen."

(May Estë, Valar of healing, be with me, may your warmth bring healing to this heart)

In one swift motion, I pulled out the arrow. I winced at the sound of the elf's cry of pain.

Blood gushed out profusely from the wound as I let the arrow clatter to the ground. Using a piece of cloth, Aragorn put pressure on the wound, trying to slow the flow. Legolas threw his head back in pain.

Holding my hands over the wound, I began to block out all other sounds, focusing only on my breathing and my slowing heartbeat, closing my eyes. The thudding of the gate and the voices of the men slowly fell into silence.

Strands of warmth and energy spiralled through my body, a soft golden glow rushing through my body. Holding my hand over Legolas' abdomen, I reached out, feeling the warmth radiating from my fingertips as I tried to make contact with the same energy that coursed through Legolas' body. Perhaps through that, I could heal his body just as I would heal my own.

But I could sense a resistance, like a barrier that I could not cross over. I squeezed my eyes shut, directing more of my energy as I sought out his fëa, calling out to his spirit as it grew more and more distant.

"Come on Legolas," I muttered beneath my breath, "please keep holding on."

But with a sudden flood of warmth, I felt a connection. Just like that, I could sense the strands of torn muscles in his abdomen, the blood pouring profusely from broken vessels.

I needed to take advantage of the connection. I knew his fëa would not be able to hold on to the body for much longer. I needed to work fast.