Of Sands and Time

Thaurdae followed Amanhír’s lead as they quickly made their way further into Galadriel’s realm. They only had been here once before, but Amanhír seemed to remember exactly where to head to.

Path upon path they went, passing vast expanses of gardens, forests and fields. Smaller buildings were scattered throughout the landscape, one more delicate than the next.

After nearly and hour the twins could make out the tastefully designed main building that took up the whole clearing before them. Galadriel’s home. Creeping stealthily along the outer walls Amanhír listened intently. It was a good thing that the Galadrim still built their homes in the same open way that they had used to on Middle Earth. This way it was easier to eavesdrop.

Thaurdae nearly bumped into his brother when Amanhír suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He immediately motioned Thaurdae to be silent and pointed carefully at a patio that was adjoined to the main building a few yards away. It was surrounded be rose hedges. As quietly as possible they edged over to it and suddenly could make out quiet but at the same time excited voices. Galadriel and their fathers.

Crouching low they took a position from where they could overhear the conversation easily and waited for what they would be able to hear. At first the three persons inside the patio spoke all at the same time and it was near to impossible to understand them, but after a while they appeared to calm down and Amanhír and Thaurdae could make out Haldir’s voice.

“But My Lady. You surely cannot mean what you have just said. Clearly there must be somebody else for this dreadful deed.”

“Be at peace Haldir. The counsel has decided and we’re quite sure that Legolas is well able to handle this situation. He has always been the one who’s soul obviously is still tied strongly to the fate of Middle Earth. Who better to send over?” the Lady’s voice was soothing and impassionate.

“No, I will not let my husband into a danger like….”

“Will you stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here! It is my life and my future we’re talking about and I think I do have some right to make my own decision. As much as I fear losing my family, I need to go and see my health and inner self restored. And if that means that I will have to go back to where I came from, then I will do it.” Though slightly shaky, Legolas’ voice was determined.

“No!” his husband howled.

“Yes! I will go. I have to. For our sake Haldir!”

“Please don’t leave me. I could not bear it. Not again.”

“It will be different. And maybe it won’t take that long anyway.”

“I cannot let you go, my love.” Haldir pleaded. “But if you must, then let me come with you.”

“And what about our children? Do you want to abandon them?”

“Abandon. You speak of abandoning? It is you who wants to leave everything behind and rush off to save Middle Earth again. But this time there will be no Aragorn to protect you.” Haldir sounded more and more bitter.

“Protect me? As far I as I remember I didn’t need any protection.”

“Oh? You think running off headlong from battle to battle highly pregnant made you invincible?”

“Haldir!” Galadriel interfered angrily. But Legolas’ sudden sharp intake of breath already told the twins that their father was hurt beyond belief.

“Legolas. Stop. Don’t leave, please. I am sorry. I had no right to say this.”

“No you didn’t.” the prince whispered.

“Listen my love. I would not abandon the twins. We could ask Gimli to watch after them. He has done so before and they are not that young anymore. And just as you said, it might not even take that long.”

“Haldir is right, Legolas. Maybe it would be best if you two go together. But it is most important that you go. As I have already told you. Your soul is still bound to the fate of Middle Earth and the imminent danger of destruction is weighing heavily on you and your health. I presume it would be best if you had somebody close by to watch over you, for I am not sure how you will react the nearer you come to the source of your waning health. And Haldir is right. Your children are both old enough to stay in Gimli’s care for a while, since they are nearing their coming of age.”


Thaurdae was just able to clamp his hand over his brother’s mouth before anybody could hear the angry and annoyed hiss. “Mhat?” the muffled cry of anger disturbed the silence around the twins. All of a sudden a rustling of cloth, quickly coming nearer told the young elves that somebody inside the patio was swiftly making his or her way towards one of the large open window like frames.

Frantically they ducked further into the rose hedges, scratching and hurting themselves badly while doing so. Haldir’s head appeared at the window and he scanned the area with a slightly confused look. After some seconds he retreated and vanished from sight.

“I thought I heard something” the silver haired elf mumbled.

“We have many different kind of birds and animals here, my march warden.” Galadriel explained.

“My, Lady,” Legolas began hesitantly “If we have nothing further to discuss now, I would like to return home and think everything over. Also there are many things to organise now and it will be not so easy explaining everything to our children.”

“Go in peace, Legolas son of Thranduil. Let your mind rest and come to peace with this situation that has arisen for you and your mate. We will talk again some other time and then I believe it would be wise to have Gandalf present.”

Soft footsteps on polished wood made it clear to Amanhír and Thaurdae that their fathers were about to leave. Hoping against hope that they would not pass their hiding spot the twins tried to press even further into the thicket. It seemed like hours until they also heard the soft patter of naked feet leaving the patio to somewhere inside the large main building. They waited another few minutes until Amanhír and Thaurdae decided it was safe to leave their hiding spot.

“Oh, Amanhír!” Thaurdae cried out in horror. “You look terrible. Here let me see.” Carefully taking Amanhír’s left hand into his own Thaurdae examined the bare lower arm. It was not only full scratched but a thorny, very hard stem had buried itself deeply into the muscle on the upper side of it. It was bleeding profusely and already began to swell.

Thaurdae looked disbelievingly at his own arm and only then felt the accompanying pain.

“Quickly let us return to the main entrance, where Elrond has set up his house of healing. Surely he will be able to help.” Thaurdae took his brother by the other hand and gently led him along. Amanhír was holding his injured arm carefully before his chest and tried not to wince with every step. It took them much longer to reach the halls of Elrond than it had taken them to run to the main building only a short while ago.

“Oh!” a slightly shocked cry of pity greeted the young elves when they at last reached the halls of healing. One of Elrond’s students, by the look of it, had seen them and also Amanhír’s wound. Keeping himself from clamping his hand over his mouth in horror, he quickly strode out towards them and gently led Amanhír inside the house and into one of the many examination rooms.

“I will fetch Lord Elrond immediately!” the young elf announced hectically and quickly left the room.

Thaurdae stood by his brother’s side and made sure that Amanhír settled comfortably on the large examination bed. By now Amanhír felt his arm throb painfully and every move sent sparks of sharp pain down to his fingers. Every time he was lowering his arm it started bleeding profusely again, so he was forced to hold it up to his chest at least.

“I hope Elrond will be here soon.” Thaurdae worried.

“I don’t care, as long as they can give me something against the pain. It ‘s really excruciating.” Amanhír let out a hiss in the attempt to lower his arm and quickly pulled it against his chest again.

Only seconds later Elrond swept into the room, closely followed by the young elf that had brought them to this room in the first place. He stepped quickly to the left side of the bed and hovered anxiously awaiting Elrond’s orders.

With a raised eyebrow Elrond gently took hold of Amanhír’s arm and probed the wound carefully, very carefully nudging the imbedded stem, to find out how deep and how firmly it was lodged inside the flesh. Amanhír did his best not to flinch or cry out during the painful examination, but his pale complexion betrayed him and Thaurdae let out a comforting “Shhh, it’s okay. It will be better soon.”

“Now, sons of Legolas, may I inquire as to why you are here and on how in Elbereth’s name you injured yourself thus?”

Now it was Thaurdae’s place to grow pale but he managed to find an excuse rather quickly. “We wanted to speak to Ada rather urgently and when we found out that he had already left again, we wanted to take a short cut and …, well I stumbled and pushed Amanhír straight into a flower bed with roses.”

Amanhír, who could see Elrond’s face unlike his brother, could tell immediately by the look of it that the Elf Lord didn’t believe a single word. He frowned and closed his eyes for second but they shot open again when Elrond suddenly spoke.

“Goldohir, I think you will be well able to handle this. Come here, take a look. The stem will have to be removed by cutting it free, clean the edges of the wound and then stitch it. Only a light bandage will do, so that that the skin will get enough air for a quick healing. If you are in need of assistance, which I seriously doubt, I will be in my study.” Elrond smiled encouragingly at Goldohir and left the room.

The young elf blinked nervously and gently made Amanhír lay down on the bed, fixing a special wooden construction that was covered in soft white linen to the bed, on which he could place Amanhír’s arm and secure it on for treatment. His hands seemed to tremble slightly but Thaurdae thought that was something to be expected. It seemed to him that even though Goldohir had surely learned a lot in Elrond’s halls by now, that he hadn’t have the chance to work on too many patients on his own. Trying to give the other elf every sign of confidence, Thaurdae stopped hovering near his brother lying on the bed and stepped back to some chairs that were standing near the far wall and sat down, watching closely.

Goldohir moved to the marble wash basin to clean his hands before the task he had to perform. He could barely keep himself from clutching his hands together and wanting to run from the room. This morning when he had risen from his bed, he had been sure that it would be a wonderful day. Full of new things to learn and to discover. He had been looking forward to sitting outside and reading more of the fascinating works of the most famous healers among the elves.

But then everything had suddenly and drastically changed. Only minutes ago he had first laid eyes on the most magnificent, beautiful and enchanting creature he had ever seen. His heart had sped up, his palms grown sweaty and all he could think of, was to turn around and run away. But then he had seen all the blood running down the arm of this unearthly elf and he had nearly panicked.

Now the elf was lying behind him on the large examination bed and soon he would have to treat that arm of his. No way would he be able to carry out his duty with his hands shaking like this. And above all Goldohir felt his cheeks blushing and burning every time he looked at his patient. ‘Legolas’ sons’ Lord Elrond had called them. Oh, if he would only know their names. His name.

With a shuddering breath Goldohir turned back to his patient and dried his hands on a clean cloth. He was desperately trying to focus his mind on the task at hand and gingerly sat down at the side of the injured elf on a small stool so he could treat the wound. Pulling closer a small side table on wheels, he took up a cylinder shaped piece of wood and handed it to the elf on the bed.

“Byte down when the pain becomes too much.” Goldohir ordered him and with trembling hands reached for a small vial with a dark brown foul smelling liquid.

Goldohir poured some of it on a piece of cloth and carefully dabbed the section of the arm that he was about to cut with one of the fine and sharp knives that lay waiting on the table. He faintly heard the other elf, who had sat down on one of the chairs clear his throat nervously and wondered for a second who of them was the most nervous. The beautiful elf on the bed, his obvious twin at the end of the room or he himself.

Pretending that the tincture needed some time to have the desired effect of numbing the pain, Goldohir buried his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking. And also he could take another opportunity to get a better look at the elf beside him. His patient had closed his eyes and obviously tried with calm breaths not to show his anxiety. His long silvery blond hair pooled around his head and his features were those of a warrior. Even though the twins were clearly identical, this one was more broad in built, his hands trained and ever so slightly callused, his legs shapely, surely from much riding and running and he emitted the aura of a strong warrior. Goldohir sighed inwardly as he reached for the smaller knife. Never would an elf like this one be interested in him. And how could he. He was nothing more than a common elf, not so beautiful, not lyrical nor skilled in the art of fighting. He would, hopefully, one day become a well skilled healer. No more and no less. And regarding his heritage, that was nothing to boast with either. Those here were the sons of Legolas and thus of royal blood. He sighed again, louder this time and carefully pressed the knife down against the skin.

Thaurdae had watched with large eyes, slightly frightened as Amanhír was made to lay down and his arm was fixed to this weird construction. But at first nothing much happened. The young healer, what was his name? Ah, yes. Goldohir, had gone to wash his hands. While Thaurdae was still contemplating if it had been a wise choice of Elrond to let this young one handle it all, he noticed that the nervousness Goldohir was radiating had only little to do with the small operation he was supposed to perform. Instead he glanced to Amanhír most of the time, hoping nobody would notice and a pretty blush would colour his cheeks every time he did so.

A small smile managed to creep across Thaurdae’s face while he watched the scene unfold before him. Suddenly a loud groan and muffled cry pulled him back into the here and now and he saw how Goldohir slowly and carefully drew a small knife through Amanhír skin right above the wound in which the stem had lodged itself.

Goldohir drew with now steady fingers the knife along the imbedded stem until he reached the open wound. After replacing the used instrument he picked up two pairs of tweezers and carefully pulled the cut further apart. Holding one pair of tweezers in place he took the knife again deepening the cut until he had cut through all the fibre and could see the stem of the rose. To his dismay two thorns had buried themselves deeper into the flesh and he had to carefully cut around them as well. By now he had calmed down and wholly concentrated on his work, from time to time dabbing away some of the blood that flowed freely from the wound.

Goldohir worked for about half an hour before he had successfully removed the stem and now cleaned the wound before setting to close it with small and immaculate stitches. Amanhír had made good use of the piece of wood, even though he had found it embarrassing at first, but the pain had been so severe that it hadn’t bothered him anymore in the end. Now he started to relax again and opened his eyes, glancing carefully at his arm. When he saw the slender fingers of the healer threading the needle through his flesh he quickly averted his eyes and instead watched the elf named Goldohir while he worked.

Small beads of sweat shone on his upper lip and his brow was furrowed in concentration. He looked quite young and Amanhír wondered how old he really was. His long auburn coloured hair was fastened in a long, tight plaid and his forest green eyes were fixed on his duty. The only thing that showed his inner tension was the constant nibbling on his lower lip, while he gently placed a bandage around the freshly stitched area.

t.b.c