Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

He lives

Illeandir lay there, listening to her sing of the forest and the stars. She finished the song and worked in silence until she had finished mending the shirt. She dropped it next to her and, without looking at him, said,

"I am sure you have questions."

Illeandir was so startled he jerked and nearly fell off the bed. He caught himself even as the elleth jumped up to try and catch him before he did fall. Groaning softly he pushed himself up into a sitting position as sore muscles stretched for the first time in possibly days. He arms shook as he held himself up. His right arm gave out and he crashed back into the bed with a cry.

"You would do well to not use that arm until you are fully healed. You seem to have a habit of getting shot there."

Illeandir grimaced. He had noticed, especially in the last few years, that his right arm had weakened. Probably due to the immense amount of strain he'd put on it, having broken his forearm twice and been shot five times in the shoulder not to mention the old wound from the goblin attack in Hollin.

"Who are you?" Illeandir asked as he propped himself up against the headboard.

"My name is Ithilwen. I am friend and honorary maid of Princess Nara."

"Honorary?"

"An excuse to be with her whenever I want." Ithilwen said with a smirk.

"Ah, I see." Illeandir said, he had no idea. The complexities of court life escaped him. He was an elf of action. Preferring to solve his problems quickly and usually with a bow and conveniently placed arrow. Titles meant little to nothing to him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You were poisoned."

"I gathered that." Illeandir said. Ithilwen smiled. "By what?"

"Gurthlass." she said solemnly. Illeandir closed his eyes and took a deep breath knowing he should be dead.

"Death Leaf." Gurthlass was one of the deadliest plants in all of Middle Earth. The shiny round leafed plant only grew in what was once known as Mordor. The soil there was so tainted with evil that whatever had managed to grow was twisted and poisonous. As it was, the heart of that black land still lay barren. Only the furthest edges could support such life, but even then it was hardly enough.

The Gurthlass plant was easily recognizable by its shiny black leaves, which very nearly oozed poison. The leaves could be dried and crushed into a deadly powder or pressed and the clear, tasteless poison extracted. Both ways would drop a man within hours and kill him slowly and painfully but if the plant was consumed directly a person could be dead in under five minutes.

"I do not know how you survived." Ithilwen said. "I believe there was enough in you to kill ten men. We had to cover you in ice to slow the poison before we could get the antidote made."

"How long?" Illeandir asked.

"We've kept you in an induced coma for the past two weeks while your body healed. We didn't dare do it the first week, even to stop you from hurting yourself as you thrashed about. You woke once just before we put you in a coma."

Illeandir nodded. He remembered that. He also remembered something else that made his heart leap into his throat.

"El?" he asked. Ithilwen shook her head.