The ElvenKing [A thranduil fanfiction]

Chapter 11

Greenwood T.A 2048

           The healers worked quickly. Stripping Rüdhon of his armor and his tunic, leaving him clothed in just his pants. His heavy body was completely uncooperative whilst they kept him upright in a seated position, trying to stop the bleeding from the wound on his chest. Red dark blood stained his skin, pouring out in soft gushes that matched with his heartbeat. Then a large snap as the bottom part of the arrow was detached. They left half of it in him because it kept him from bleeding out. None of them could do much else. We desperately needed Ûtridien.

I remained in the back, pressed up against the wall while trying to stay out of the way as they worked on Rüdhon. The wound on his side, nothing more than a long thin line, but still bleeding more than it should. Several healers had been called to his room, but none of them dared touch the arrow imbedded in his chest. Rüdhon released several of his wheezing breath whenever he was forced to shift but his eyes remained closed, his expression contorting in pain more than once.

They did all they could, even if that was only to make him comfortable. I tried to remain strong, fighting the tears that wanted to emerge. I had to remain strong, despite how much I was crumbling within. Finally, when the healers began taking their things out of the room, I was allowed to go near him again. One of the healers, an older elf with dark blonde hair and brown eyes, lowered his head to me in respectful acknowledgement once I sat down next to Rüdhon lying in the middle of the bed.

Our eyes had met for a brief second before he diverted his gaze back to Rüdhon who was moaning, still in pain. He put down a cup on the nightstand, the herbs filling the room. I recognized the brew, it would ease his pain and discomfort. "Hannon le—" My voice broke but the healer heard me and sent me a soft smile before yielding a step, giving me room. His expression had been one filled with sorrow, he knew as well as I did, that Rüdhon would not survive this. The wound to deep. There was no telling what the arrowhead had nicked or cut through. The position to precarious.

When the last healer exited the room, my tears finally fell freely. I didn't hold them back as I reached for the hand resting on his stomach. He was awfully pale, skin clammy and already drenched with sweat. I squeezed his hand reassuringly whilst brushing several of the strands of hair clinging to his forehead behind his ears. The touch extremely gentle, yet he didn't even react when I touched the sensitive part of his ears.

My sniffling was the only sound filling the room other than his occasional wheezing. He looked comfortable despite everything. I blinked the few tears remaining away, before wiping them from my cheeks with the back of my hand. I shifted closer to him and tucked my legs in under me, my hand still around his and my other hand placed on his chest. It was rising, but the rhythm inconsistent and jerky.

Several white bandages had been bound around him, to stabilize the remaining part of the arrow still in his chest. It rose only a few inches above his skin. I followed a few of them, my fingers brushing against the soft silk but also the clammy skin underneath, correcting it while also exanimating all the fine scars there were all over his chest. There were more than I could count, many almost invisible to the eye.