The Night's Wanderer

Chapter 2 ✪ A Healer's Hands

Within the early hours of the next day, an elleth rode through the gates of Rivendell with as much haste as her horse could muster while the soul in her arms faded.

Morrandir, without the words of his Lady present in his mind, ran to meet her. 

Elrond, along with Healers of Rivendell, started assessing the halfling's wound straight away. He was being taken to a room in the Healer's building. It was a building Morrandir was much more accustomed to. He often aided the Healers when in Rivendell. 

He followed silently behind the group knowing his use was only valid once the halfling was settled on a bed.

The Healers placed the halfling upon a premade bed, the clean and light bedding pulled back so as not to cover him, and started to remove his clothing. A small cape and jacket were removed which revealed a simple shirt with a dark stain on one shoulder, a bandage made from fabric had been put in place and held a natural paste of a common weed.

Arwen stood explaining the wound to the Healers and her father who were washing the wound. The wound from the blade of the Nazgûl was hard to heal. Much harder than that some of the Healers had faced before, it had been a while since any of the elven folk had faced a Nazgûl weapon.

"Elrond let me." A small whisper left Morrandir's lips making his presence known from the doorway.

Elrond peered up, unsurprised at Morrandir's presence, before telling the Healers to leave the room. They left, all glancing warily at Morrandir as he still remained a stranger to them and shut the door behind them.

Swiftly Morrandir moved to the bed's side where the halfling lay. He removed his own cloak and pack before carrying on. Arwen stood in the room as well as Elrond and watched the Healer do his magic.

Carefully Morrandir ghosted his hands over the smaller body. He could sense the poison through the bloodstream and needed to find its source. On the shoulder of the halfling was where it was strongest. 

Morrandir placed his right hand on the wound and raised his left to his head. He placed the base of his thumb on his forehead and mumbled out words of an old language. 

"Tilaf kin sortin. [Heal this body.]"

Elrond and Arwen watched as foreign words entered the air. With them small markings made themselves evident on Morrandir's forehead. The pale blue lines glowed softly as the same words passed Morrandir's lips over and over again. 

The words became a soft chant in the air and cast a haze of serenity around the four by the forgotten language being spoken.

An hour passed of the same thing before Morrandir parted from the body on the bed. During that hour Elrond had a quiet conversation with his daughter -enlightening her on their friend before them. 

Morrandir took in a deep breath before turning towards the two elves. "He should be fine, a scar left on him is all." 

He moved to his pack at the bedside and let his hand feel around until coming upon the bottle he was searching for. Pulling it out the glass bottle was seen to hold a green liquid. Morrandir set it on the table to the side of the bed, beside the glass of water so the Healers understood it was meant for consumption.

Arwen sighed in relief while Elrond smiled slightly at the power his friend held. Morrandir moved his hands back to his cloak, securing it back around his smaller frame, before hoisting his pack back onto his shoulders.

"Arwen you may leave with Morrandir." Elrond glanced at the male with hesitant eyes. Arwen followed her father's eyes and saw why there was hesitance in them. The younger male was wobbling slightly on his own feet while his skin drew pale.