his exception

chapter five: healing

The shouts echoed in Maethel's ears as she staggered back from the orc. She didn't want to see any more, nor hear any more. It was over. She backed away from the orc, who then fell to the ground. She was too weak to even notice, to also notice the figure beside her. 

"Maethel!" Her father's voice was faint, as if he stood so very far away and not less than a yard from him. Her legs betrayed her, her knees going to sponge. Her father was there, kneeling beside her. "Hang on, Maethel.. we'll get you fixed up in time, we're not too far away from home.." Thranduil cried as he stroked the cheek of his daughter. "Don't give up on us know.." Maethel felt her eyes closing yet she had a strong urge to keep them open. "Ada...." She whispered between gasps, she then looked down at her shoulder which still had the arrow protruding out of it. She felt tears pour out of her,  tears that were out of control. They poured left right and centre and she had no control over them. "I'm here.. I'm not going to let them get you.. you're safe"

"Lego..Legolas, is he s-safe..?" Maethel looked up at her father. "I told him to stay back in Mirkwood.. he's safe." Thranduil then thought he saw his daughter smile. He then noticed that a guard was walking towards them. "We've killed the remaining orcs, my King." Feren started. "What do you expect us to do now? Shall we help the people? Their homes have been set on fire, they've lost family.. friends.. lovers.." Thranduil looked down at his daughter who he was still holding in his arms on the floor before he answered, "I want a third of the army to come with me, I need to get Maethel to Rivendell. The others will stay to help the people of this village." Feren nodded before he rushed off to tell the others about the plan.

...

"When will she arrive?"

"Shortly." Elrond's expression grew grim, far more so than the healer had seen in a long time. "From what I understand, she is wounded very seriously." Amara nodded slowly. She'd seen and healed plenty of battle wounds. "Impalement?" Elrond nodded. "She got shot at with a poisonous arrow in her right hand shoulder... she also got stabbed in her back and also her her upper abdomen. She would have been mortally wounded, had her father not rushed her to Mirkwood to see a healer of there's who had kingsfoil."

"Very well. We will be ready." Amara looked down, she had seen Princess Maethel very briefly only a couple of days when she was staying in Rivendell. She was a very lovely person. Lord Elrond bobbed his head and turned to take his leave. She waited a beat, then clapped her hands. "Luthien! Morwen! Come here, please." Not too long later two other healers were standing by her side. "We are taking in a wounded Princess of Mirkwood, Maethel."

The two healers looked shocked with their mouths hanging wide open. "Maethel.. she was just with us three days ago.." Luthien mumbled as she looked at Morwen and then back at Amara. "What happened?" Morwen asked and Amara was quick to answer. "From what I have been told she was shot with a poisonous arrow in her right hand shoulder.. with a deep stab wound to her back and upper abdomen.." Luthien gasped and out her hand to her mouth.

Luthien and Morwen continued preparing the bed in a private room. Amara moved to the tall white cabinet, where she kept the basic supplies—bandages, gauze, needles and thread—anything that she might need to treat emergent patients. Impalements could be messy, especially if the tool with which one had been impaled had been removed. Elrond had said that the blade did not remain in the princesses body. Although blood normally didn't trouble her, her stomach still clenched a bit as she heard the sounds of approached elves. They hurried toward the Healing Room and when the first group rounded the corner, she gestured to the bed Luthien and Morwen had made up.

The elves gently placed the wounded body of Maethel on the neatly cleaned healer bed. Luthien noticed how most of the colour had drained from the princess'  face except for a small blush on her ghost like cheeks. Her eyes were closed, her hands limp on her chest. Amara took a large knife and deftly cut away the t-shirt she wore. She gripped the bottom of her blood-soaked tunic and slit it from hem to neck, so the princess was left with just her bra and her open stomach. Blood spattered against her white gown, but she paid it no mind as she bent over the elven princess. Tauriel the Wood Elf had done a fine job of packing off two ugly, jagged slices with kingsfoil and linen and Amara felt very relieved it meant the princess had a higher chance of survival. "Ahhhh!" Maethel let out a roar of pain, trembling as the wound gushed fresh. Amara looked over at Morwen. "Needle and silk, please." 

"Of course." Morwen hurried over with both. Amara threaded the needle and set it atop a sterile cloth, then picked up the ewer of sterilised water to flush out the wound. Maethel stiffened, moaned low in her throat, and muttered something unintelligible.  "Shhh..." she told her gently. "It will be all right. I know it hurts, and I will give you something for the pain as soon as I am able. Now, lie still." A single tear fell down her cheek as she gritted her teeth. She still trembled, but as Amara probed the wound, and then began sewing, she made not a sound nor moved a muscle. As she stitched, she whispered the words of an ancient elven healing chant and as she finished the inner layer, reached over to the small jar on her left. Powered kingsfoil, which had such powerful healing qualities, only a few were trained to use it. The lower wound was far worse, and the heat wafted from the princess's body as she unpacked, flushed, sewed, sprinkled, and closed that as well.

"Go and get cleaned up. I will sit with her for now." Amara didn't wait for a response she looked down at Maethel who was still so terribly pale, and still. But, heat wafted from her, so Amara knew she lived. She ran a fever, but that was to be expected. The important thing for now was that she survived the journey from Mirkwood to Rivendell. She would treat the fever with feverfew once she regained consciousness, for not being able to asses her speech or movements meant she ran the risk of poisoning her with the feverfew. In the meantime, she poured clean water into a delicate basin of translucent blue china, and dipped a square of linen into it. She wrung it out and set to work wiping the remaining blood from her forehead and her face. Maethel bore a large cut across the right side of her forehead, but it wasn't deep enough to require stitching. 

Once she'd cleaned away the blood, she rinsed the cloth, then the basin, and refilled it withe fresh cool water. With a fresh strip of linen, she soaked it, then carefully laid it across the princess' forehead to help bring down her temperature. She kept the elven princess in the main Healing Room, since her own chambers were only off to the side and she could be there in a hurry if need be. Her father, King Thranduil had invited or rather ordered that she must not be left alone until she was able to go home, where he would collect her. She would sit with her through the night, and Morwen would relieve her at dawn. Then it would be Luthien's turn.

So, she went to wash and to get something to eat. Normally, she dined with the others, but not this night. This night, she didn't wish to be too far away. Maethel had been through a lot  and Amara would just feel better if she was close by.