Everlong

78

Thranduil had lost Liruliniel. It just happened, it was perhaps an impossibility really to lose someone, when they were clearly still in the area; but he had lost her. Each day that came and went, she had vastly improved, whatever ailments that were still troubling her, didn't seem to trouble her so much anymore. Her arm, though still littered with spidery scars from where a bone or two had protruded from the skin, was better. Her ability to move it had improved, she seemed stiff, but she could still move it, straighten it, lifting her arm caused her to wince a little, but it no longer needed to be in splints or a sling. Bruises and cuts had all but vanished, any bandage and dressing she had was removed. A healer had commented rather surprisingly how elves heal, Thranduil hadn't a comment, and Liruliniel had just smiled. The healer was a woman, small of build and quiet, Liruliniel had noted that she was the same one which tried to see to Imrathon.

Thinking of which, Thranduil's blue eyes slid to the elf. He too had healed remarkably quickly too. His leg, though he limped a little still, had healed and he was up and moving within two days of their first visit. Thranduil had given Imrathon a rather easy task, if he was up to it. Imrathon was readily accepting even before he knew what his king was going to ask of him. It was simple: find Liruliniel. Admittedly, Thranduil had not seen her for about half a day, and he was a little confused to say the least. As yet, she hadn't openly ventured too far from his side, which bought him comfort, always having her in sight bought relief to him. But now? No. He did not feel relief, he felt concern, confusion and a little apprehension bubbling away inside him.

Thranduil looked curiously at Imrathon as he stopped in front of him, Thranduil remained seated and leaning back in his chair. "She's in the Mountain, sire." Thranduil's eyes dimmed, his expression went distant as he eventually rolled his eyes and stood slowly. Of course she was. Thranduil had hoped really that Liruliniel would've had the sense not to rush head first into aiding the dwarves to clean and tidy their home up. Apparently not.

Thranduil just inclined his head, Imrathon bowed before limping off. With a sigh, Thranduil called out his name, the elf stopped and looked miffed that he had been called for. "Perhaps you best see a healer, you seem to be limping more." It seemed Liruliniel was not the only one rushing off before they were fully healed. Yet Imrathon bowed his head again and walked away, Thranduil watched him go and was rather pleased to see him divert into what little tents remained for the healers.

In truth, the city of Dale, though still utterly wrecked and ruinous, was coming along quite quickly. Debris, foliage, artefacts left from the war had all been moved. In fact, some debris had even been reused in building materials. The dwarves had readily seen to this, hitting and breaking more chipped parts up and mixing them in with mortar to create new, solid and sturdy walls. If parts were more solid, still in shape and a decent size, they were reused as they were, there would be something for them, a cornerstone, a part of a wall, some foundation or another; the dwarves were very fast at putting plans in action, and even quicker into seeing them get done.

No one could fault them on that, although it seemed the mortals who were going to call this city home, had been somewhat shirked and pushed to the side. Thranduil had seen more than one look out of place and awkward in trying to aid a dwarf, or tell one to perhaps lessen and let them aid them. The dwarves would come out with something, most times really bluntly, and deter whomever who would then walk off with their head bowed. In experience, Thranduil had learned just to leave the dwarves to it. Nothing was going to get through to them, nothing. He had tried, and he had learned it never really worked, so leaving them be seemed ideal.

Really, there was no reason as to why the elves were still present. They had buried their dead, those who were injured had healed, and really, they didn't seem to wish to aid the dwarves in building. It was more the dwarves looked rather hesitant and even commented comically about how would an elf know what a dwarf would want their kingdom to be. Or something along those lines. If he remembered rightly, Liruliniel had butted in, held a hand up and grinned saying: "My grandfather helped dwarves in building work quite often. I've heard tales of him aiding your kin in making the secret door in Khazad-dûm." This had shut some up, the dwarf called Bodur had laughed. However, though her words were meant to be a contradiction, a retort to silence whoever spoke, it had roped some elves into building works. Some begrudgingly did so, some seemed to take to it, seeing it as fair in aiding those here set up their new lives.