Daughter Of Lórien || Book 1||

Ch 18 ~ The Hands of a Healer

Barging into the healers wing for the second time that day, I startle my brothers, Elladan asleep and Elrohir reading a book in the dim candlelight.

Elrohir jumps to his feet, the action mirrored by Elladan, although with much more difficulty considering his leg.

"Celé, it's too late for-" He trails off, spotting the Prince I drag along behind me, anger flaring bright in his eyes. "You!"

His hands curl into fists and he steps toward us but I shoot him a look.

"Not right now Elrohir, I have this to deal with." I gesture angrily with my chin at the cut on the Prince's neck as I tie my hair back from my face.

Elrohir's anger evaporates, replaced with confusion as he squints at the cut. I seat the Prince in the corner of the room and fastening an apron around my waist, go about collecting various ointments and medications. He gets up from his seat to help, but I order him back down again. Eventually giving up, he sits back down, a scowl on his face as he watches me work. Elrohir crosses the room and begins inspecting the cut.

"That's quite a nasty cut," he muses to no one in particular.

My hands pause as I turn to shoot him a sarcastic glare.

"Thanks, I haven't noticed," I reply dryly.

Elladan has now joined us as well, his gaze flitting between me and the Prince as he tries to piece things together.

"Wait a second..." He raises his eyebrows at me. "Did you give him that?"

A smirk tugs at my lips.

"That's right," I say sweetly. "Courtesy of our little duel."

I hear the Prince grumble from beside me, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Oh be quiet, you cut me first," I chide, hitting his arm playfully. "You deserved it."

"I did not," he fires back, as my brothers chuckle at the both of us.

The medication all ready, I seat myself across from the Prince, and command him to lower the handkerchief from his cut. He obeys, and I begin to dab a wet cloth against the wound. I don't get very far because he flinches and pulls away from me, hissing in pain.

"Not so hard, that hurts."

I raise my eyes to his, quirking an eyebrow as I draw back my hand.

"Maybe if you had cleaned it properly the first time, it wouldn't sting so much, Princeling."

"Well maybe if you hadn't cut me, I wouldn't have had to."

My eyes snap up to his.

"You should have thought of that before you cut me," I retort sharply.

From across the room where he has returned to reclining in his bed, Elrohir snorts, glancing up at us from his book.

"You two bicker like an old married couple."

I ignore him, focused on cleaning the wound, but notice with satisfaction that the Prince has turned a brilliant shade of pink. I try dabbing at the cut again, more gently this time, and he flinches but doesn't pull away.

Finished with the herbal-soaked washcloth, I reach for a salve and gently smooth it along the cut, taking care to cover it all up, and then hand him a tonic.

"Drink up," I say as I rise from my chair, wiping my hands down on the front of my apron.

"What is it?" he asks, sniffing at the liquid in the cup and recoiling. "It smells terrible."

"Oh, don't be such a baby," I say, rolling my eyes. "It's a tonic, it should clean out any infection that had made it's way into your bloodstream."

He raises his eyebrows, looking to Elrohir.

Elrohir nods.

"She's the best healer in Rivendell, aside from our father." He shrugs, and turns back to his book. "I'd take her word for it."

As the Prince works on forcing down the tonic, I clean the equipment and my hands. Finishing up, we exit the healers wing, calling 'goodnight' to my brothers and make our way back to our rooms. The halls are silent and our light footsteps echo against the polished floors. We travel through the palace in silence, walking side by side, without a glance at each other. When we halt at the door to my rooms, I turn back to him and hand him a salve.

"Apply that to the cut every night. It should prevent any other infection from setting and speed up the healing process," I whisper, not wanting to disturb the silent halls.

I drop the salve into his palm, fingertips lightly brushing against his as I draw away my hand.

Glancing at me, his blue eyes bright, he whispers, "Thank you."

My eyes widen at the genuine gratitude I find in his eyes and I stare at him in quiet surprise.

"Your welcome," I breathe softly, a small smile on my lips.

He smiles back at me. And for the first time since we've met, I notice that his eyes are not cold but rather captivating and full of light, holding mine with expression I had not seen from him before. He leans forward, and time seems to go still as he brushes a stray strand of my hair away from my face, his hand grazing my cheek. My heart jumps in my chest at the touch, an emotion I had never felt before stirring inside me, setting my heart ablaze. But then he steps back, time slipping back into motion and breaking the trance. I stare at him, my cheeks heating up from his lingering touch. His gaze is soft as he looks down at me, our closeness making him too tall to meet his eyes without lifting my head. But then something in his eyes shifts, the light fading from them, and his usual cheeky grin returns as he dips his head, averting his gaze.

"Good night, m'lady," he whispers with a wink.

I slip back into reality, managing to roll my eyes at him before he turns from me and retreats down the dim hall, the echoing of his steps fading into silence.

And even though it lasted only for a moment, the heat of his fleeting touch lays lingering warm against my cheek, sending my heart pounding, once again, insistently against my chest.