The standard bearer (Elrond x oc)

9. A Very Bad Horse

She was awoken the next morning by a gentle voice at the entrance to her tent, and groggily opened the flap to see a page holding a steaming basin.

"Luinil instructed me to bring this to you." He carried it in gingerly.

Gildinwen touched a finger to the warmth – it was heavenly. "Please thank him."

"Generally we're quite short of water," he grinned, "so don't be expecting this every day."

She smiled back, "I won't, and thank you."

"You're welcome, my lady," he called over his shoulder as he ducked out.

Looking around the tent she found some soap and towels, as well as a clean set of clothes. After a thorough wash, and dressing in the fresh clothing, she felt completely renewed. There was not enough water to wash her hair, so she settled for combing and braiding it. Her new clothes were in the livery of Gil-galad's house, such as she had seen many Elves wearing the day before. The neatly-fitting trousers were somewhat long, but the thigh length tunic and sleeveless mantle fitted well.

Stepping outside the tent she made her way uncertainly up to the concourse where she had been the previous evening. Gil-galad and his council were already poring over their papers. At the outskirts she hesitated, then with a deep breath walked forward.

"Good morning my lords," she bowed.

"Ah! The Lady Gildinwen," replied the Elf-Lord. He held up a paper, "Do you have the tongue of the Dunlending?"

"Yes, my lord, both speech and writing."

"Excellent!" He motioned her over and gave her the letter, "Translate that for me, and make two copies."

"Yes, my lord." It looked like all those hours spent poring over her father's old books were going to come in useful.

She retired to the far end of the table, gathering the materials she would need. A page placed a plate of bread and fruit beside her, along with a cup of spring water.

The day passed thus, Gildinwen quietly copying and translating many letters and reports, while the tide of Men and Elves ebbed and flowed around Lord Gil-galad. When it came to the late afternoon, and she had finished the last one, she dared to ask if she might be excused for an hour or two.

"I had two friends with me yesterday who were gravely injured, I promised that I would call to see them."

Gil-galad nodded and waved her away, "Luinil will fetch you, if I have need."

The hospital tents for the Men were set up between the two camps. They were spacious, with the sides rolled up to admit light and air, but many cots crowded the floor. In every one lay a human, each with his own injury, his own pain.

As she walked among them searching for her friends, Gildinwen heard many call to her.

"The Lady of Amarnon."

Awkwardly she touched the hands of those that reached out to her, smiling to give them what comfort she could.

"Gil!" Tom's voice reached her from the next row, and she stepped to his side with relief. He looked suddenly embarrassed, "I mean, my Lady."

She smiled broadly, "Tom! You're looking well." And he was. "So, have you changed your mind about the Elves?"

He blushed and nodded.

"How's Will?"

"He's asleep now," Tom pointed to a bed nearby, "But he's regained his senses."

"That's good."