The Meaning of Snow by Ysilme

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Caring

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4. Caring

It was still early in the afternoon and would be light for a few more hours by Elrohir’s estimation. From his different vantage point, he took another survey of the valley, hoping to find similar shelters in the opposite slope, or anything at all which might have given protection to another survivor. But there was nothing, not even a crack large enough to merit investigation. This left the five or six larger snow-covered mounds.

Without his pack on, he did not sink in as much and was able to advance at a reasonable pace, but the snow was so wet it was still slow going. Elrohir started with the mound closest to the cave entrance, carefully brushing the snow away. It was indeed a horse. He hoped it had died quickly and dug carefully around it in the faint hope of finding the missing guard who might lie close, or even had sought protection against the large animal. But all he found were saddlebags and two wrapped bundles, still tied to the saddle despite the tack being badly torn. The decoration of the leatherwork was unfamiliar to him, so this must be one of the guard’s horses from the Greenwood. Reaching down to cut the bags loose, he nearly impaled his hand on the shards of a broken bow, half-buried under the animal. Some firewood at least, Elrohir thought with satisfaction, and braced his foot against the saddle to extricate the bow. He placed everything he wanted to take with him on top of the horse and then went to the next mound.

About two hours later, Elrohir returned to the cave. He had found the second guard dead, at the foot of the rockslide, and three more horses. One of them was a pack horse, carrying an unexpected bounty: a small armful of firewood and a basket with some travelling provisions. He had fashioned a kind of sleigh from the wooden pack frame and the cloak of the dead guard, enabling him to bring all his findings back at one go.

Back at the cave, Elrohir carried the first load inside and checked on the two injured elves. Erestor was awake, and Elrohir told him of his findings while he dribbled more water into Annuil’s mouth.

“I am sorry about the other guard,” Erestor said softly. “I do not even know his name. He was a quiet one, good with the horses.”

“He will not be forgotten,” Elrohir offered. There was nothing else he could say.

Elrohir went to fetch the other luggage, and, when everything was inside, took a hatchet and chopped up the pack frame and the bow. One bundle contained kindling and, finally, he was able to make a small fire. They needed to be careful with the wood, and also with the lamp oil, for Elrohir did not know how long it would take for one of the rescue teams to reach them. But he needed sufficient light to examine and treat the two injured as well as some hot water, if possible.

When the fire was burning well, he filled the small cauldron he had found by the pack horse with water and set it close so it would warm, and came back to kneel besides the pallet. His healing kit was already open and spread out at the side.

Erestor had watched him while he went about his tasks, remaining mostly silent. Now he sighed.

“Please, be careful.”

Elrohir nodded, helping Erestor to drink another draught of Miruvor. “I will.”

He took the covers away, frowning at what he saw. Erestor’s clothing was torn in many places, and where skin showed, it was as bruised as his face. His right arm lay oddly, drawn against his body, and the lower leg on the same side was bent in an unnatural angle. He must have taken quite a tumble, and it was difficult to judge what injuries might be hidden from view. Partly to ease the examination, as he did not want to cut away all the clothing because of the cold, and partly to distract Erestor, he asked:

“Can you tell me what happened? I only know that there was a rockslide.”

Erestor nodded, wincing occasionally as Elrohir’s hands now slid inside and below his clothing and gently palpated his body.

“We were in the middle of the snow storm, just over the summit of the High Pass, when there was this loud rumble. I was in the rear, with Annuil and the other guard behind me, when I heard cries and shouts and panicking horses, and somebody shouted that we should stop. We dismounted, unable to see much in the snow drift, and then somebody said we should move on, but be careful and lead the horses as part of the trail had gone. Then I just remember that the ground moved beyond me and I was going down. Ah!”

He hissed as Elrohir was now carefully moving his injured arm. “The collarbone is broken, but the arm is just sprained and bruised, no broken bones,” he said, placing the lower arm back on Erestor’s chest.

“It feels worse,” Erestor muttered, “but I suppose I must not complain, considering that I dragged Annuil all the way here.”

“You what?” Elrohir looked up, staring at Erestor.

“I was out for a while, I do not know how long, although it was still light. I found myself lying away from my horse, with my arm and leg hurting like hell and my head spinning. I soon realised that I was alone and needed shelter, so I started to drag myself towards the rock face, thinking it was the most likely place to find shelter. It started to snow again and grew dark, and I bumped into Annuil quite by chance. He was unconscious, and I crawled at his side and covered us with my cloak to keep warm, I was too exhausted for anything else.”

Elrohir nodded and continued his examination.

“In the morning, we were covered by snow. I knew we could not stay there, and spotted an overhang that looked promising. The snow actually made it easier, for it did not hurt as much to crawl in it, and I could drag Annuil along on his cloak. Imagine my relief that this was actually a cave and not only an overhang! By then, it was snowing again, and I took Annuil’s scarf and tucked it in a crevice outside as a signal. Did you see it?”

“Yes, perfectly well. It was actually the scarf which caught my attention first.”

“Good.” Erestor looked satisfied. “Well, that was it. I dragged us inside, found that Annuil had a rolled up blanket slung around his shoulder, which I managed to untie - by then, I could not use my right hand any more. I crawled up beside him onto his cloak, spread my cloak and the blanket over us, and then I do not remember anything until you found us.”

Elrohir shook his head. “This seems unbelievable, Erestor. Even a trained warrior would have had a hard time managing such a feat, and you -”

“And I am just a boring office sitter,” Erestor finished dryly.

Elrohir blushed. “I was twelve when I said that, and I was sorry even then! Will you never let me live that down?”

Erestor chuckled. “I have always found it rather funny, and you look so cute when you are teased.”

Cute? Erestor found him cute? Taken somewhat aback, Elrohir continued with his task, filing the thought away for later. As gently as he could he cut open Erestor’s trousers and boot, but he could not completely avoid the leg being jostled. Erestor hissed again, biting his lip and clutching the blanket with his good hand until his knuckles went white.

“Forgive me,” Elrohir said softly, taking the Miruvor flask again and holding it to Erestor’s lips. The worst was yet to come, and he had not wanted to give Erestor anything stronger before he knew what he dealt with.

“Not your fault,” Erestor said, looking up at Elrohir. Despite the pain he was in, his gaze held the same warmth and kindness it always had, but also something new, and wholly unexpected: trust.

Elrohir felt his knees go weak and was grateful he was not standing. Erestor, always strong, imposing and master of any situation, erstwhile teacher and now mentor to his brother and him, the same Erestor who had never shown any weakness, was now trusting him, without reservation. His head spun, and he had difficulties forcing his mind back to the task at hand.

Erestor said: “I know you need to set the fracture. Do it now, and be quick, please, Rohi. My courage only lasts so far.”

Elrohir took his hands, pressing them gently. “Not much courage is needed. I have poppy syrup and will give you a dose before I start.”

The relief in Erestor’s face created an odd feeling of tenderness in Elrohir, but he pushed this thought away as well for later.

Measuring a dose of the syrup and helping Erestor to swallow it, he went to the luggage to find something to use as splint while he waited for the poppy to take effect. Erestor was not completely out, but sufficiently relaxed and disconnected that the setting of the bad, open fracture to his lower leg would be bearable.

He came back with the two long knives he had found tied to Annuil’s saddle, as he wanted to keep all available wood for the fire. Wrapping them thoroughly with shredded cloth, he checked Erestor again and then set swiftly to work. Erestor did not stir while Elrohir cleaned the wounds, set and splintered the leg and tended to the other injuries.

When Erestor was dressed again in clean, warm clothes, Elrohir turned to Annuil. Thankfully, he found nothing worse than two broken ribs, but it worried him that the Greenwood elf had still not shown any signs of consciousness. At least he had no head injuries. After bandaging his chest tight enough to fixate the ribs without hindering his breathing, which was still laboured, Elrohir dressed him anew as well and then sat comfortably by his head for a healing treatment. Like before, he laid his hands on Annuil’s forehead, concentrating and following the flow of the patient's energy with his own. Where he found it diminished, he strengthened the energy with some of his own, and where it was cumulating, usually in areas where the patient felt pain, he gently directed it away, to ease pain and encourage healing. He was still a novice at this art, and his abilities far beneath that of an experienced healer, but he hoped it would be sufficient to improve Annuil’s state until they were back at Imladris.

When he was done, the laboured breathing had evened out, and Annuil now lay peacefully and relaxed. Elrohir smiled, grateful for this immediate sign of improvement, and humbled that he possessed such a gift, and was able to use it to this purpose. He would do the same for Erestor later, but he needed to rest and eat first as such a treatment also drained the healer.

He went to tend to the fire, found a piece of bread and a strip of dried meat, and sat down by the heap of luggage from the dead horses. Even under the best circumstances it would be at least two days until help arrived, and maybe more. The wood would not keep as long even if he kept a fire only at night, and he also had not enough oil for the lamp. While he went through the bags to see what could be used as fuel or for any other purpose, he gradually felt a sense of peace settling over him. It had been only a few days since their departure from Lothlórien, but it felt as if he had become another person since. With a smile, he remembered his apprehension of returning home, and of meeting Erestor again, the one he loved.

Nothing had really changed between the two of them, but he realised that the bitter feeling of unrequited love had gone. He still felt the same towards the older elf, but he knew that it did not matter so much whether his feelings were reciprocated or not; he found it more important that he had Erestor’s friendship and respect, and the deep, reassuring knowledge he would never lose it. But he thought that he could, perhaps, now hope just a little.

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