In Time

Chapter Five

"Amara, do you have a moment?"

She turned at the sound of Elrond's voice and nodded. "Of course. What is it?"

He nodded toward the colonnade leading from the Healing Room toward the center of Rivendell. "Walk with me."

"Valindra," Amara waved her over, "I need you to keep an eye on Mr. Oakenshield. He is not to try to get up from bed, under any circumstances, until I return."

"And if his nephews pay him a visit?"

"That is fine, so long as he remains abed. I will return as soon as I can."

"Yes, Amara."

She nodded and approached Thorin, who had been napping. His eyes were open now, a bit clouded from sleep, but he turned his head toward her as she drew near. "How are you feeling, Mr. Oakenshield?"

"I am weary of lying here. You keep telling me we will begin the process of getting me back on my feet and yet, here we are. Two weeks after I arrived, and I am still flat on my back."

"In time," she told him softly, carefully folding the sheet back. "We need allow your insides time to heal as well, you know."

"Amara?"

She glanced over her shoulder at the impatience creeping into Elrond's voice. "I will be along in a moment, my lord. I need to check the dressings on Mr, Oakenshield's wounds."

Elrond didn't look happy, but nodded just the same, and she turned back to Thorin. "Once they have done so sufficiently to withstand the stress of you trying to stand, we will begin working on getting you mobile. You need be patient."

"So you keep telling me," he muttered.

She caught the hem of his white linen tunic. For the first time since his arrival, no bloodstains marred the pristine fabric. "May I?"

"If I tell you no, will it do any good?"

She couldn't help but smile. "No."

"Then look to your heart's content."

She gently lifted the bottom of his tunic, folding it up to his ribs. His shirt might not have bore any stains, but the same could not be said of his linen bandages. But these were no ordinary bloodstains. Sickly greenish-black stains ringed the rusty bloodstains and when she carefully cut the bandages away, her stomach tightened. The two gashes were swollen, weeping through the stitches holding the edges together, and the skin around the wounds was an angry red. Red streaks wiggled outward, disappearing beneath the swirls of dark hair that covered his belly.

"What is it?" Thorin asked, lifting his head. "You're frowning."

"Do your wounds hurt?"

"Always. As they have since I received them."

"But is it worse?"

"A bit, perhaps. It aches almost constantly. Why? What is wrong?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to drain them. They appear to be infected."

"Infec—are you joking? You have to cut me open again?"

"You will not feel anything if I can help it," she told him, laying her hand on his chest now.

"Small consolation."

Without thinking, she patted him gently. "It will be all right in—"

"Time," he cut her off with a glower, "how did I know?"

"Amara." Elrond sounded even more impatient now.

She gestured to him as she said to Thorin, "Excuse me a moment."