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Tending Elrond's Heart	By : kathmco Category: -Multi-Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 3677 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Tending Elrond's Heart

Author: Emmess

Rated: NC17

Genre: Fluffy romance

Tending Elrond's Heart

Chapter One

The House of Healing

"How long, Elrond? How long will you continue to isolate yourself? It has been centuries since she sailed."
"I am well aware of how long it has been, Glorfindel. I am conscious of every day that has past…every hour. You needn't remind me."
"Someone needs to remind you! You have cut yourself off from the living, Elrond. You spend nearly every waking moment in the House of Healing…or tending your gardens. There is life out there, Elrond, a world bursting with it, yet you continue to disavow it…disallow it to touch you."
"I need not a lecture from you, Glorfindel."
"I speak as one who knows, Elrond. Far too many years did I waste upon my return keeping my heart safe from hurt, so many that it nearly withered within my chest. I wish not the same hurt upon you, my old friend, and yet…I see it approach you as clearly as I see the frown upon your brow."
Elrond slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the cups and saucers. "Enough! My heart is mine to do with as I please. Do not seek to speak to me on this subject again." The Peredhil Lord glared at the Slayer from under dangerous, hooded eyes.
Glorfindel stared back, unruffled by the Lord of Imladris' temper. After a moment, Elrond sighed, and turned from his old friend to stare out of the window at his treasured gardens.
"My heart is in no danger, Glorfindel, because it sailed with her. My chest rattles empty, and cobwebs have been strung in its place."
"Then I suggest you find someone who is a hand at cleaning. Perhaps a chambermaid?" The Slayer said, hoping to lighten the mood of his Lordship.
Elrond managed a small smile, though in his current mood it felt alien upon his lips. "My old friend, even a chambermaid of the highest order would fail to sweep the dust from my loins, so thick has it grown over the centuries."
Glorfindel smirked, welcoming even that small a jest from Elrond. "There are many who would be lined up outside of your House, brooms in hand, my Lord, if only you were to give the word."
Turning back to his friend, a fuller smile on his face, Elrond shook his head at the tall, blonde warrior. "I thank Eru for you, old friend…even in my darkest hours, you manage to lighten my spirit."
"There was a time when it was I on the receiving end of such a lecture, my Lord…Elrond…I am not the only one who worries. Erestor also worries, as do your daughter and your sons. They have never fully recovered from their mother's tragedy, nor from her departure to the West, and wish not the same for you," Glorfindel finished softly.
Elrond nodded, indicating that he both understood, and wished, once again, to be alone with his thoughts. Unable to do anything other than acquiesce, Glorfindel bowed, his fist to his chest, and silently left the room, closing the door behind him.
Elrond turned again to the window, his eyes looking out over his gardens, but his mind turned inward, thinking about their conversation, and about all he had lost when Celebrian sailed West.
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The House of Healing stood surrounded by peaceful flower and herb gardens, a solid and gleaming white stone structure. It was here that Elrond spent most of his time, tending those rare few who had managed to sustain some injury or the other, drying his herbs, mixing his potions, wandering through its cool pale rooms, and hiding from the world, if one believed Glorfindel.
In truth, Elrond knew he spent far too much time there than was warranted. Still, he found solace in the crisp, clean white curtains and sheets, in the smells of lavender and chamomile, and in the silence of the empty halls. He supposed he was hiding, as Glorfindel so often accused him, but only from himself, only from his own pain…never did he turn away any who sought him to comfort or heal their own.
He was seated at a small table in the main solarium, cleaning a few herbs that had been freshly plucked to ready them for the drying racks, when his keen ears picked up the sounds of running footsteps on the path that led to the House of Healing. Instantly knowing that those footsteps brought word that his skills were required, he rose to meet them at the door.
His son, Elrohir stood at the door, holding it open, a look of near panic on his face. Elrond looked beyond him to see Elrohir's twin brother, Elladan, carrying a limp figure in his arms, running toward them.
"An accident, Ada…an Elfling practicing the bow made a shot that flew awry…she has been shot, badly."
"Bring her," was Elrond's only response, as he flew ahead of them into the main solarium, already throwing herbs into a bowl and readying bandages and clean water by the time they laid the unconscious elleth gently on a bed.
He bid Elrohir, who had in the past showed signs of an interest in healing, to aid him as he stripped the cloth from her shoulder, freeing it from around the arrow that protruded from her chest. Knowing that Imladris arrows were barbed, Elrond snapped the largest part of the shaft that stuck from the elleth's chest in two with his strong hands, leaving only a short piece still sticking from the wound.
"I shall have to push it the rest of the way through," he informed Elrohir. "Keep her still…do not allow her to thrash." A glance at the maiden told him that she had not regained consciousness, a blessing, as far as he was concerned, since the pain would be great.
Sitting her up, supported and held immobile by Elrohir's strong arms, Elrond, in one quick and sure movement, pushed the arrow through the rest of the way, pulling it out by its metal head from her back. Quickly he applied pressure to the injuries, instructing Elrohir to hold the compresses on both the front and rear wounds.
Gathering his supplies, he bent his head to her chest, listening carefully for the telltale sounds of a punctured lung, or other serious internal damage. Thankfully, there were none, but a flesh wound itself could be deadly, even to one of the Firstborn, if left unattended. Loss of blood was a particular concern, and Elrond could see that she had lost a great deal already, simply by the crimson stained gown she wore.
Quickly, he cleansed the wounds, packing them with herbs and applying an emollient that would help both ward off infection and stem the flow of blood, bandaging them with strips of clean, white cloth. His lips whispered a healing chant, as gently, Elrohir lay her back against the soft, white pillows, and sighed with relief as she seemed to breathe easier, falling into a healing sleep.
"Who is she?" Elrond asked, washing his bloody hands in a bowl of water, and drying them with a towel.
"I know not, Ada. I know only that she was strolling near the archery field, when the shot flew off course. It struck her and she fell…we did not wait to find out any information. Elladan picked her up and we came here straight away."
"Go back and see what information you can ascertain, Elrohir…someone must be missing her… worried for her," Elrond instructed. "She will be here several days, at least, until I am sure the wounds will heal without further intervention. Also, I trust that you will speak with the Elfling whose arrow flew badly…and instruct him or her on the importance of aiming. If need be, bring the Slayer to the field to further their instruction," he continued, knowing Glorfindel would leave them quaking in their breeches, but with a lesson never forgotten.
"Aye, Adar…immediately." Elrohir bowed, leaving the room, calling for Elladan to come with him.
Alone with his patient, Elrond eyed the bloody garment she still wore. Noting its threadbare condition, he supposed that it needn't be saved intact. With a sharp knife, his sliced open her ruined gown. Slipping it from her arms, careful not to jostle her too much, he pulled it gently from her body.
With a soft sponge and clean water, he bathed her as best he could, washing most of the already-drying blood away. He dried her off, and covered her with clean sheets and a soft, down comforter.
As he washed his hands again, the thought of what a lovely young thing she was entered his mind…she seemed barely at her Majority…thick, silky hair, as dark as his own…such beautiful, smooth alabaster skin…high, full breasts…rosy nipples…
He stopped, surprised at the quickening in his loins. He hadn't had such carnal thoughts in more centuries than he cared to count… Shrugging it off, he placed the blame for his decadent thoughts on Glorfindel's lecture that morning. Resolving not to think of it again, he went back to the business of cleaning his herbs for the drying rack.

Translations:
Ada…dad

Adar…father
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Tending Elrond's Heart