Brightest Stars | Love of Royals: Book I

XXV: Samlîn

'Sit down, let me get you out of these wet things...'

I barely pay attention to the words issuing from my lips, or to the constant aches in my limbs. Thranduil groans as I carefully strip him of his armour and damp robes until his bare back is exposed, the trails of blood and sweat shining in the low lamplight of the healing room. I absent-mindedly move his white gold hair over his shoulders before starting to clean his wound and remove the blood from his back.

He groans again, digging his nails into his palms. He then attempts to force some words out, while I proceed to apply a ground herb to the wound. 'Elena—rrgh!' Thranduil convulses suddenly and I jump back, almost dropping the tiny bottle in my hand.

I regain my composure immediately, placing one hand gently onto Thranduil's shoulder. 'Shh. I'm going to bandage it.'

'Elena...' He attempts to turn and face me, but I urge him to stay in place.

'Hold still, meleth nín. I need to put this around you,' I say, indicating the roll of bandages on the table. He obeys, closing his eyes and biting his lip, while I bandage part of his firm torso, making sure to cover the wound several times over. His skin is still drenched in sweat and rainwater, so I dry him with some of the thick cloths and towels, before wrapping a soft blanket over his shoulders and instructing him to lie down on the bed.

As soon as he is seemingly comfortable, and silent besides his long, slow breaths, I feel all the tension that had built up inside me begin to ease.  I'm not going to lose him—I'm going to look after him. 

I breathe in.  His eyes close.  I breathe out.

I take this moment to slip through the door at the back of the room and finally be rid of the waterlogged clothes clinging to my skin.  This room is smaller than the healing room, or at least it seems so because of the clear bathing pool filling most of the space.  It appears as though this pool is fed by one of the many streams that run through this kingdom, and one only has to open certain hatches for all the water to drain away or to allow more water to flow in.

There are no windows, so more lamps illuminate this room, except with a whiter, more ethereal glow than those golden beacons in the healing room.  It is as though the walls are lined with twinkling stars, reflecting in the mirror-like pool as it beckons to me with an invisible hand.

In I go, once again.

A body of water has never felt so welcoming in all the years of Arda.  The touch of it on my skin is entrancing; within seconds I have stepped right out to the middle, where the surface is lapping at my collarbone, and promptly submerged myself in the cool and tranquil waters. 

This is much unlike the time I was paralysed in an icy abyss—this time, I have control.  I can be free of the patches of crusty blood on my skin, feel the pleasant coolness cleansing my wounds, and wash away all traces of sweat and pain and suffering that were burdening me.  This time, I don't need anyone to save me from the water.  It is part of me, and I am part of it.

Hours seem to elapse while I'm in there.  I am only torn out of my reverie by the thought of the wounded Thranduil, whom I hope is still resting peacefully on the other side of the wall.  It might be time I return to him. 

I exit the water, my mind calmed and my strength replenished.  To my annoyance, the only real clothes available for me are the soaked guard's attire, so I dry myself irritably and attempt to fashion a makeshift gown out of a spare bedsheet hanging from a hook on the wall.  I'd much rather emerge in an odd-shaped dress than walk out there stark naked. I am, however, exceedingly frustrated that I didn't fetch some more clothes before bathing.

Thank Ilúvatar, Thranduil is still asleep when I check on him (whilst desperately gripping part of my gown in a futile effort to keep it in place) and so far, no blood has managed to seep through the bandages.  Breathing a huge sigh of relief, I cross over to the other side of the bed and carefully seat myself propped against some pillows.  He slowly turns onto his back, his eyes still closed, and his smoothly muscled chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. 

I have never seen him this way before: so calm, so vulnerable, and so blissfully unaware of my presence.  It has a certain beauty about it that I cannot quite describe, although the feeling is bittersweet while I can still see the bandages tied around him, reminding me once again that he sacrificed himself to save my life. 

***

'Elena?'

A voice I have grown to love wakes me from my unintentional afternoon doze.  I snap awake to find Thranduil hasn't moved, but only lifted his eyelids, revealing those orbs of ice and starlight. 

'Meleth nín, what are you wearing?' He seems puzzled, yet mildly amused, and finally able to string a sentence together.

'Do you like it?  I made it myself, from a rather lovely bedsheet, if you must know,' I reply, repressing giggles as I pretend to show off my dress.

Thranduil laughs softly.  'It's beautiful on you, as is everything.'

The smile fades from my face as my eyes slip down to his bandaged chest again.  'I'm sorry—it's all my fault, I—I just wish I could have done something.  Saved you from being hurt. I... thought I was going to lose you.'  My eyes stinging, I look away from Thranduil, who takes hold of my hand with his.

'What you did was honourable.  You fought even though you lacked in training and experience, and then you endeavoured to heal me yourself when there were other available healers in the kingdom.  And you have not lost me, have you?  You saved me.  So there is no need to dwell on what happened,' he says kindly, drawing my attention back to his eyes. I watch as Thranduil sets his jaw and heaves himself up into a sitting position.

'I wish it were that simple,' I sigh, my gaze riveted on him.

Then, unable to be apart from him a moment longer, I lean over to place my lips on his; he welcomes them, savouring the kiss as if it were the elixir of life.

'You still save me too often,' I whisper against his lips, smirking before kissing them again.

Thranduil lets out a feigned scoff after we pull out.  'You need to stop getting into trouble. You're a Star, you're supposed to stop trouble, not start it.'

'Oh, I'm sorry!' I retort in mock annoyance, unable to say another word after Thranduil's lips collide with mine a third time.

Eventually, he gives in and asks me why I am draped in a cream bedsheet for a gown.  I tell him of what happened while he was asleep, describing the strange little room with the water, and he immediately nods as though he recognises it.

'You found it.  You found Samlîn—the Chamber of the Pool.  There is only one in the entire kingdom, and finding it is said to be a key to unlocking one's destiny.  It is vastly unlikely for one to stumble across it as you did, but the water seems to have done you well.'

I resolve to ignore the destiny comment, as the idea seems utterly preposterous to me. 'It has indeed.  Are you feeling strong enough to get up yourself?'

'Yes, but you may need to be beside me for support.  It seems our roles have been reversed, Elena.'  Thranduil's trademark smirk brings warmth to my chest and colour to my cheeks. 

'I'm going to help you, just as you helped me,' I say determinedly, squeezing Thranduil's hand in my own, 'although... I hope you don't mind, but when we were riding here, the elk may have been inside the corridors... and it may have knocked a few things over...'

He gives a low, throaty laugh.  'Thank you for your honesty!  I shall have the mess cleared up as soon as possible.  However, there are other matters we must attend to.  Come, meleth nín,' he says warmly, 'let us first find you some proper clothes.'

'I should say the same for you!' I laugh, playfully flicking a piece of his silken hair.

And at this very moment, I can only thank the Valar with all my heart that we are both alive.  We have survived—there is still hope.

***