DISCALIMER – I do not own any part of Tolkien Enterprises, nor do I have any rights to the Lord of the Rings storyline, characters, or places. I intend no copyright infringement, and am making no profit from the following story. However, I do own Corwyn and the minor characters involved with her. Use by persmission. Feel free to add my fic to any website of fanfiction, but with permission only. I’ll never say no, but I like to know where my story is. And finally, I do not own the gorgeous Craig Parker, who inspired this story. (PS – a telain is the tree houses that the people of Lothlorien lived in… also called flets).

Okay, I’ll shut up now…

Chapter Three

***

Caras Galadhon, the great Elven city of Lothlorien, was quiet. It was late night, and most of the Elves were in their quiet, dark telains. But from one of the platforms, high in the trees, a bright light shone. Despite the hour, somebody was busy working.

“Okay, so if Fingolfin descended from… no, wait, that can’t be right. The lines would have had to have been traced to…”

The sound of shuffling papers. A woman was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, laying papers about her, her eyes searching each one.

“Yes, yes, that makes much more sense.” The elf muttered, rubbing her eyes. It was much too late to be messing about with her documentation of Elvish bloodlines. She studied one more paper, ignoring the sound of running feet from below. Something must be happening, she thought absentmindedly, a spark of uneasiness alighting in her mind, but there’s no way it has anything to do with me so…

“Corwyn! Corwyn Anelith!”

The Elven maiden looked up from the mass of papers strewn about her. The voice was coming from down below her telain, and it sounded urgent. I spoke too soon, she thought to herself with a sigh.

She stood, being careful not to cause the papers, which, contrary to their appearance were in a specific, important order, to go into disarray.

Leaning out the window of the room she was in, her study, she looked below her. Lalwen, an older elf-maiden stood below. Her silvery hair looked even more so in the light of the crescent moon. But there was no mistaking the look on her face. She was obviously dismayed over something.

“Lalwen, whatever’s the matter?” Corwyn asked, worry creeping into her own voice. It wasn’t like the old maid to get upset unless something truly horrid had happened.

“Hurry down, dear! You’re needed badly!! The Lady and Lord request it!”

Corwyn’s eyes widened as she ducked back into her room. What could Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn possibly want? Whatever it was, Lalwen sounded worried, and Corwyn knew she must not keep anyone waiting. Quickly, still taking care to leap over her papers, she tied her mocha colored hair back and wrapped a cloak about her nightdress. With that, she hurried out of the telain and down the large steps made into the mallorn trees, which were what her home was situated in.

She reached the bottom in record time, and was further bewildered when Dylabrant, one of Lord Celeborn’s menservants, grabbed her arm roughly and began to walk very quickly over the grassy slopes of Caras Galadhon. Corwyn found she had to jog to keep up with the elf-lord’s long strides.

“What’s going on?” she asked, trying not to relay the fear she felt inside.

Dylabrant pulled on her arm and said, “Faster, you are needed most urgently, Corwyn, daughter of Celedaner.”

“I, I don’t know if anyone has told you Lord Dylabrant, but I am only a knowledge-keeper and a healer,” Corwyn was getting worried.

Dylabrant didn’t even slow his pace, “Yes, your talents are known to the Lord and Lady of Light. Now hurry…”

Corwyn suddenly understood. There was only one thing that would cause her be called in the middle of the night. “Who is injured?” she asked, worriedly. “For that is what I am needed for, correct?”

Dylabrant allowed himself a smile. “You ask many questions, Lady Corwyn, all of which will be answered momentarily, but we do need to hurry.” With that, he pulled Corwyn towards the tallest and most magnificent mallorn in the forest, the home of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. A small crowd was gathered around the base. Corwyn gulped, and any lingering thoughts of Fingolfin’s descendents flew from her mind.

***

Blood, oh, so much blood!

“What happened to him?” Corwyn asked, quickly falling to her knees and putting a finger on the pulsing artery on the fallen Elf’s neck.

She looked up, meeting eyes with the two Elves who had brought this one in. They were covered in blood, both their own and a black sticky type that Corwyn could only guess was orc blood. One of them spoke up, “The western edge of the forest came under attack by orcs, my lady,” he said, “ and my brother was ambushed. Those damned beasts…” he took a breath and regained his composure. “Excuse me, I meant to say that we managed to slay all of the orcs, but not without cost.” His large fists clenched and unclenched in anger over his brother.

The other elf had worry in his blue eyes as he looked at the fallen one. “Will he be all right?” he asked. This one was younger, and his voice cracked as he continued. “Will he… die?”

Corwyn looked at the fallen elf’s face, which was beginning to look pallid and lifeless. She noted his right ankle, which was twisted at an impossible angle. “We need to get him to my telain, immediately. He needs aid.”

Before she could say another word, several Elven men grabbed the rope and canvas stretcher the unconscious elf was lying on and carried him swiftly away. Corwyn rose to follow, but noticed the injuries on the two others. She reached a hand out to examine one’s shoulder wound, but he pushed her hand away, shaking his head.

“Go, my lady, please,” he said, “Take care of my brother.”

Corwyn was about to argue, but she saw someone coming down the steps of the grand Mallorn palace that took her breath away. Lady Galadriel, long hair flowing about her in the moonlight like a golden, wavy river. She was holding her long, silver dress up a bit as she glided quickly down the steps. Corwyn immediately gave a curtsy, and the two elven men, injured though they were, bowed low.

They Lady of Light nodded, and looked at Corwyn with her clear eyes. Go, Corwyn, daughter of Celedaner. You are needed elsewhere. I will take care of these ones.

Corwyn didn’t see the Lady open her mouth, but she heard the instructions clearly. She curtsied one last time before hurrying away, turning her head back one last time, in time to see Lady Galadriel smile softly at her. Go on, hurry, my dear one.

***

Corwyn ran as quickly as her long legs would carry her. She finally caught up with the men carrying the stretcher as they hurried up the steps to her telain. She panted softly as she followed they entered her hall and hurried down to her healing room. Unfortunately, they also hurried through her study, scattering her carefully laid out papers. She let out a little cringe at the sight of her weeks of hard work drifting every which way, all about the room, but all she had to do was remember the injured elf’s face, with his lips slightly bluing from loss of blood, and his blonde hair matted with sweat and blood, and suddenly her work on Elvish bloodlines seemed much less important than she had thought ten minutes ago.

She followed the Elven men into the room, where they set the stretcher down on the long, flat examination table. Corwyn didn’t say a word, she nodded at the elves, who looked a bit reluctant to leave, but did so willingly upon seeing how proficiently Corwyn was handling everything. She didn’t even notice them stepping out, she was so preoccupied with setting the broken ankle. Once that was done she examined his shoulder probing some bloody wounds. A look of disgust crept over her face when long, sticky strands of orc saliva came off on her fingers. He was bitten, she thought briefly while cleansing the wounds.

She looked at his pale face worriedly, and prayed to Earendil that she might be able to save his fair life.

Please help me to save him...

***

The rising sun cast its bright rays directly into Corwyn’s eyes. She moaned and shook her head, knowing she would not be able to go back to sleep. So she rose to her feet from a blanket she had placed on the floor and decided to go check on her patient.

She walked out of the study and into his room, well, it was her room actually, but for the sake of his condition she thought it would be better for him to have somewhere more spacious and comfortable than an examination cot. She looked him over. He was still grimy and bloody, luckily most of it belonging to orcs, and his face was still paler than she would have liked, but as she put a fine finger to his artery, she felt the pulse stronger than she had before. That, at least, was comforting.

Her healing salves had already begun to do away with his bruising and lacerations, and the ankle was also coming along very quickly, thanks to some special medicine from the Lady and Lord.

She was pleased overall with his condition, except for the fact that he was still unconscious. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but could not, as he could not answer her, and the elves he had come in with, who had said he was their brother, were being treated by another healer, and were unavailable to speak with.

Oddly enough, this elf’s face was somehow familiar, though she could not place his name. It danced on the tip of her tongue, but she knew it was futile to try and remember it. She would just have to wait.

In the mean time, she decided to clean him up a bit. With careful hands, she washed his face and hair, removing the blood and grime. She removed his bloodstained shirt, and scrubbed his chest softly. She frowned thoughtfully as she looked at him. He really was quite handsome, her subconscious thought, especially all cleaned up. But her conscious self did not recognize that thought, honoring this elf only as a patient, and one in serious condition, as well.

Corwyn brushed his hair out gently, letting it fall over his shoulders. She smiled upon finishing. Her maternal instincts, like all women’s, were strong, and it was satisfying to take care of someone. She put a hand on the elf’s cheek for a moment.

“Quel Kaima,” she said to him, watching his chest rise and fall with his deep, even breaths, “Sleep well.”

***