“Go back to sleep, penneth.” Erestor did not have to look up to know that his charge was awake.
“I can’t sleep,” groaned Haldir. “My back hurts too much. Where is the medicine Nenniach gave to me?”
Erestor crumbled a sheet of parchment in his hand and tossed it sideways. “Your body can not heal if you continue to dull your senses with what she was giving you. It was a temporary solution until a healer arrived.”
“Can you give me anything for this?” asked Haldir.
“Time is all I can offer you, penneth. You should rest.”
“You try resting when your back feels as if it shall split open,” grumbled the elf of Lorien.
Erestor scratched at another sheet of parchment. “The medicine I offer is bitter, but you would be wise to take it. Sleep.”
Haldir tried to huff his displeasure, but it ended in a wince of pain. “I hurt, Erestor,” he said with pleading eyes, but the advisor simply balled up another sheet and tossed it with the others.
“And I hurt for you, penneth,” admitted Erestor. He finally looked up from his writing to address Haldir. “I could ease you into a state of slumber,” he offered. Such a sleep would not be as beneficial as true sleep, but it was something, and he truly did feel badly that he was not allowing Haldir the painkillers he wished for.
“No. I am restless and will not be placed under a spell.” Haldir’s gaze drifted to the pile of discarded parchment. “What are you doing?”
“Writing a letter to Lord Elrond explaining my actions.” Another ball was added, and caused the pile to spill out further. “At least, that is my intention.”
“Ah.” Haldir looked around lazily, leaving Erestor to his work. He could tell by the scratching that Erestor was nearly out of ink, and by the looks of the wads of paper that covered the ground, nearly out of parchment as well. He studied the advisor for a bit, and was humbled by the fact that an elf of Erestor’s stature would come to his aid without question or thought to his own welfare. He prayed that Elrond would not be too harsh on Erestor.
His attention was caught briefly by something on Erestor’s ankle. The dark elf had removed his boots and stockings – in fact, he sat only in leggings and a loose shirt. Haldir strained to see exactly what it was – it appeared to be some sort of markings on the advisor’s skin. Haldir pulled back when he realized the advisor was looking at him again.
“Is something the matter?” questioned Erestor, shifting his legs so that they were tucked underneath and off to the side.
Haldir shook his head what little he could manage. “No, nothing at all. Just the fact that I am in excruciating pain.”
Erestor nodded, knowing he would have the pleasure of listening to Haldir’s comments until the elf fell back asleep. Ignoring him was likely the best idea, he decided, and he returned to his half-finished letter.
Haldir sighed, trying to think of something to keep himself busy in the position he was in. He wondered if Erestor was just as bored as he was, and a thought came to him. Erestor was not likely meant to come just to heal him. “If you have to check on the others, Erestor, I understand completely. I do not wish you to think you much watch me every moment.”
Erestor looked up again. “What others?”
“The other elves. The rest of my troops. The survivors from Helm’s Deep.” Haldir’s stomach clenched and he felt ill at the expression Erestor wore.
“No one told you...” Erestor said softly, tossing his writing tools aside. He reached out and placed a hand on Haldir’s folded ones and looked at him sadly.
“Oh, no...no, please, Erestor, tell me there were other survivors,” begged Haldir, laying his cheek against Erestor’s hand.
“No, penneth.” Erestor swallowed hard, using his free hand to gently smooth back the hair on Haldir’s head. “There were no others.”
