Was it one year ago? Ten? One hundred?
It mattered not. She left the Valley with little regret, the older beautiful memories were now tarnished by the more recent, sad ones. She wore a black, consistent, outdoors outfit because in the Moors winter awaited. White would have been better but she was in no mood to look like a pigeon. She will be an old dead tree if need be. All that she took with her fit well in the two sacks by the sides of her horse. The horse did not like her. She did not like him back, but she needed him and he obeyed her orders. She will give it to another or have it returned to the valley once she settles in with the rest.
She stopped at the height of the northern gate of Imladris. Two elves rode past her smiling in greeting, she wore a brown leather jacket with delicate green and gold embroidery. He wore an uniform-looking long coat. Even though both were brown haired and resembling each other like siblings a painful flashback reminded brighter days. The Valey was sparkling red and white of autumn leaves under hoar-frost. The house of Elrond with the Hall of Fire, hidden Imlad Gelair and its secret and hopeful beauty, the imposing Forges that Vanimarians held so dear and so high in respect. She will miss none of it, not for a long time.
She turned the horse back towards their climbing path and rushed it. The snowy slopes welcomed her soon and her mind focused on the next step,, then the next one, the noises on the sides of the road and those further away. Danger could be one step away or one thousand steps away but it was for sure all around her and kept her senses sharp and her mind focused.
She recognized their signs from afar and responded correctly and no arrow searched her, no sword stopped her until she dismounted at their camp.
“Welcome! I can help you with your horse if you wish” a blonde elf she did not know yet was smiling to her. She took one look at him before taking her packs from the saddle and giving him the reigns.
“Thank you. He is free for who needs him, from the valley. Can you tell me where can I find the Lord Veryacano, friend?”
She found his tent easy enough, even though it was only slightly bigger than others and simple as can be. He did not look surprised to see her and did not rise from his writing table to greet her with any formalities. She did not expect any and the place felt like home, smelled like home, one needs no welcoming to his house.
“Welcome, Turuviel. I am glad you join us. You will stay, will you not? I thought so. Make yourself at home. Talk to Celephindir to help you settle. You see, we have all comfort, thick tents, good fires and maybe even some wine when someone brings some from the Valley” he gestured around with half a smile.
“Thank you, Mylord”. She bowed deeply before him and he raised an eyebrow, keeping the same uncertain smile.
“War council when the Sun sets. Dismissed!”
***
A light seemed to surround the high lord of Imladris, Elrond, as he entered the room. The sky was still high and the curtains of the room were almost closed, so the light in the doorframe was even more striking. He bowed his head in greeting and Turuviel rushed up from her chair and bowed deeply before him. He was followed by the tired healer that Turuviel met in the morning.
“Turuninde, isn’t it? I will see what I can do for her.” The healer nodded.
Elrond moved the sheets carefully and with equal care opened the bandages. The wounded moaned and struggled. The healer rushed to hold her and Turuviel stepped forward to help if needed. It was not the first wound she saw and her hands were not trembling when helping someone in pain after all this time.
“Shhh”. He seemed to look beyond the pale skin of the wounded and continued to speak other words that Turuviel did not understand, she did not speak Quenya well enough to distinguish distinct words of his enchanting. He put his hand on her front head and on her chest while Turuninde was becoming inert again.
He looked back at the wound and frowned.
“Veryacano was right, that was no ordinary blade, a lesser one but still tainted by dark will of the enemy. It’s malice is not ordinary poison. Also he was right to send her here, because for each darkness there is somewhere the light to scatter it.”
Elrond turned to the healer.
“The concoction you made is good for poisons but this needs more. Come with me, I will give you another, and I will again return in the morning. If she changes her state to worse call me again, no matter the time”.
He put his hand again on Turuninde’s forehead and spoke something in the old language. The stone of his ring sparkled when the thin sun ray that the curtains were letting in fell directly on it.
The healer returned a little after with a silvery long neck bottle.
“I need to give this to her each hour. Can you stay to help me hold her or I can call another?”
“I will help you”.
Neither the healer or Turuviel were prepared for the spasm of the weakened body when the medicine passed trough her lips, but old practice strengthened the arm of the huntress. Turuninde cried painfully in her slumber several times and the fever went up and down all trough the night, but no more than during the day. With the break of the next day it started to diminish and the weakened body seemed to find rest. When Elrond came and inspected the wound, chanting his indistinct words, he frowned no more.
“She will be all right. Continue the same way and add some regular potion to give her some strength to fight. In a few days she should wake up.”
