Set in Stone - Haldir's Story -

Chapter 27 - The End

When Daëra entered the forest on her faithful horse, she immediately felt at home. It was so good to exchange the dark, rough trees for the smooth grey-skinned mellorn trees that grew in Lórien. Even Galadriel took a deep breath: "It is indeed good to be back." – After only a few minutes some wardens appeared to greet them, one of them was Rohir. "My Ladies, perhaps you would not mind following us immediately to help our healers? – They have been struggling to completely heal some of the graver wounds and poisonings." – Galadriel nodded and two wardens took care of their horses while they went with the others. Daëra knew about the battle that had happened, Galadriel – who was always in touch with Celeborn – had told her about it. The last bit of the journey they had ridden fiercely to be able to heal as many as possible in the short while they had left. The fate of Middle-Earth would be decided soon, one way or the other.

Suddenly, a hand grasped Daëra's arm and whirled her around. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself being crushed to Haldir's broad chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on to his tunic. "You are not hurt?" she quietly asked after a while. Haldir bent down and kissed her softly. "I am fine, but I would be glad if you could have a look at Orophin." – Daëra could clearly see the sorrow in his eyes and quickly stepped back. "Show me to him." – They were running elven-style and Daëra was still impressed at how being an elf had contributed to her endurance. She could even talk while running at her quickest pace. "What kind is his wound?" – "He has been cut by a poisoned blade." – Daëra expression darkened when she remembered how Haldir had arrived in Lórien after Helm's Deep, the constitution he'd been in. But she'd managed to heal him, even though she'd had to use the fire on him several times, so Orophin should not be in greater danger than him - unless of course the orcs had found a deadlier poison than the one they'd been using before, never to mention that different groups of orcs might be using different poisons, depending on where they had their base camps. Daëra tried to keep the bad feeling from her mind. – "He has not suffered as much as one would have thought, he has borne it well. Yet his health is constantly declining. Without help, he will be dead within a week's time." – Daëra smiled at Haldir in a determined manner. "Don't worry, that will not happen." – He nodded and they continued running; it wasn't hard for Daëra to know when they were approaching their aim: there were voices, elves shuffling about and a pained sigh now and then.

On a small clearing, the elves had put up pallets for the wounded who had to wait for Galadriel and Daëra's return to be healed. Some were looking pale and sick, as if most of their lives had already drained out of them, others merely seemed to be asleep. Orophin was among the latter mentioned. His plaits had started to look a bit untidy and his hair was spilled all over the make-shift pillow on the top-end of the pallet. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful – had he be human, Daëra would have supposed he was dead. He wasn't, though, and when they approached he opened his eyes. "You are back," he said with a voice that was somewhat weaker than it would have usually been. – "I am." Daëra smiled and sat on the side of his bed, pushing back his sleeve. Orophin lifted his hand. "What are you doing?" – "Healing you." – Orophin sat up: slowly but he did it. "There are worse cases than mine. I will last an hour longer." – Daëra looked back and forth between Náre, Orophin and Haldir. Then she took notice of the other sick elves, especially those who seemed at the very verge of death. Her eyes came to a halt when they met Haldir's. He slowly nodded. "If this is his wish..." – Daëra stood up and stepped back so she could look at both brothers at the same time. "The thing is just..." her voice was barely more than a whisper, "Náre's power might be destroyed any minute. Frodo... he will get caught or he will succeed. But both times it will end with Náre's power dying." – Orophin took a deep breath. "Well then I suppose you'd better hurry."

Daëra nodded slowly and was about to move on to some patient closer at death's door than Orophin when Haldir took hold of her arm. "What will happen if Sauron wins? I he acquires the one ring?" – I will die, and so will all who are within a range of 50 metres of me. The words were on Daëra's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to say them – yet neither could she lie. Haldir threw her a scrutinising glance. "Will it destroy us?" he suggested. Daëra nodded, making sure none of the wounded was listening in. "You should leave," she stated. "Please do leave. Caras Galadhon should be out of the explosion's reach." – Haldir continued looking at her for a while, then he almost smiled. It was a weird thing to see, regarding the graveness of the situation. Daëra slightly frowned at him, but the faded smile stayed on his lips. He took hold of her hand, entwining their fingers. "A world where Sauron rules is not worth living in, anyway." He kissed her softly. "I almost died once and I left many a business unfinished. Now this is not so. I love you, and always will – in this or any other world." – Daëra felt tears welling up in her eyes. "I love you too. With you I am at home – as short as my time as elf might turn out to be, this is where I belong: next to you."

"Well, you could start healing other people," Orophin chimed in from behind. "I want you to heal them first, but I hadn't intended to actually dying a martyr." When he saw Daëra's watery eyes, he frowned. "Is my fate already sealed? – Or is something else amiss?" – She smiled. "No, you will be fine. Everything will be fine. Do not worry. We will be back soon to heal you." Daëra held onto Haldir's hand and together they went to release other wounded elves from their pains. It was the middle of the day, but the Eastern sky seemed redder than what was normal. Without looking Daëra knew it must be Minas Tirith: the Lady had seen it burn, but by now the battle would be long over – Galadriel hadn't been able to tell who would win or lose.

It was an hour before Daëra and Haldir returned to Orophin's bedside. His state of health hadn't changed much: he'd gotten a slight bit paler, but that was about all. Daëra – perfectly experienced by now as to how prepare her patients for the fire-healing – knelt down next to his pallet. Making people believe it wouldn't be painful usually made the shock worse when it did hurt, so she frankly said: "This is going to be a lot of pain – but since you're a warden, I'm sure you'll deal with it admirably." – Orophin smirked. "Well, well, such flattery." – Daëra suppressed a smile. "Your laugh will get stuck in your throat once I have started." She said it as if in jest, even though it was true. She placed her hands on the cut on Orophin's arm and concentrated on Náre. When it started working, she felt the warden's muscles growing tense, but he never screamed. "You are doing well," she said quietly. It reassured the people as she had found out, but this time it was not even a mere flowery phrase. – "Well, it is not that bad," Orophin stated, his voice sounding almost normal. Daëra's eyes flew open. "Is it not?" Her stomach fluttered, had she perhaps found a way to make it hurt less... without noticing? Daëra let Náre's whole energy flow into the elf's wound: the poison must be awful, the healing was eating all the energy right up as if it were nothing. After a whole of five minutes, Daëra stumbled backwards, right into Haldir's arms. "This is taking so long. Is he healed?" – Daëra wiped her forehead and looked right at Orophin. "The poison is taking a lot of Náre's power. It must have been especially strong." She frowned. "But if it had been, it should have killed you sooner, should it not?" – Haldir rubbed her shoulder. "Do not worry, Orophin is better now, so there is no need to worry." – The younger brother sat up carefully. Obviously satisfied by the result, he stood up, took a step forward – and fell to the ground with a choked cry. Haldir knelt down next to him. "What is happening?!" – Daëra ruffled her hair. "I don't know, I healed him for five minutes, even a really bad poison should be drawn out of his system by then, unless..." She froze and then whispered: "He said it wasn't that bad, did he not?" She stared at her right index finger where Náre gleamed innocently and then at Haldir: his glance said he understood. He looked back and forth between his brother who was cradling his hurt arm on the ground and the ring. "It is losing its powers, is it not?" he whispered. Daëra took several steps back, a tear rolling down her cheek. They should have healed Orophin first after all, she didn't know whether there was another way of healing him now. Daëra nodded. "Frodo must have made it." She felt the Lady's eyes on her and when their glances met, they were thinking the same thing: their rings were limited now; their powers would be gone for good soon. "Orophin, I..." Daëra began, but she never finished. All of a sudden Náre was blazing hot on her finger and before she could even take a step, the ring of power exploded.