The last thing I saw before I passed out was a group of elves in shiny armor, their expressions a mixture of worry and Alarm as some spread out as if searching for an enemy. While a few rushed to my side then, everything went black.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, my mind a foggy haze I couldn't even enter my mindscape for some reason. When I woke, the first thing I noticed was the absence of the foul stench of decay. Instead, I was surrounded by the fresh scent of greenery and the faint, soothing sound of running water. My body ached, and I could feel a dull, throbbing pain in my side where the rusty dagger had been.
The voices around me were soft, melodic, and unfamiliar. They spoke in a language I couldn't understand, but it sounded so pretty to hear.
"Pedin i phith in aníron, ú-chirithon bâd gurth," one of the voices said (I can tell she is in great pain, we must act quickly).
Another voice, a female one, replied, "Maethar mín i naeth a cenan man anthol anim." (we should open the wound to see if its a poison?).
I tried to focus on their faces, but my vision was blurry. The pain in my side flared, and as I gritted my teeth, I felt myself slipping back into unconsciousness. When I awoke again, I was in a different place. The bed beneath me was soft, and I was dressed in a clean white, comfortable dress. The pain was still there, it still hurt and I was confused why my body wasn't regenerating.
The room was quiet, and the light was gentle, filtering through sheer curtains. A male elf with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor sat beside me, his hands glowing with a faint, healing light. He was speaking softly, his words a soothing balm even though I couldn't understand them.
"Av-'osto, nín mellon," he said gently, (Do not fear, my friend). "Men athar awarth," (We are here to help).
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, and all that came out was a weak croak. The elf noticed and quickly offered me a cup of water, helping me to drink. The cool liquid was refreshing, and I managed a small, grateful smile.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
The elf smiled warmly, though I could see the worry in his eyes. He spoke again, his voice calm and reassuring. "Manen ná aníra le maer?" (How do you feel?)
I shook my head, indicating that I didn't understand. The elf seemed to understand my confusion and nodded. "Rest," he said in a slow, deliberate manner, emphasizing the word. "You are safe."
Safe. I could feel a weight lift of my shoulders as I let my eyes close, the exhaustion pulling me back into a fitful sleep. Each time I awoke, the elves were there, tending to me with gentle hands and soothing words. The pain from the necrotic magic was a constant presence, but they did their best to ease my suffering. Sometimes the men were forced out by the girls who came with soft rags to clean my body as I lay there.
One evening, as the sun set and the room was bathed in a warm, golden light, I heard the voices again, discussing my condition.
"Dúath neithant, aglar i edrain," one said (The shadow lingers, it mars her body).
Another replied, "Hemedin ilia i men harnen, dan ú-eruiathar i rhaw dîn, ú-natha gwaew vennin sui dae dûr." (We have tried all we can, but whatever is harming her body is not a poison we have ever dealt with, it's like a dark mist).
The authoritative voice spoke again, calm yet firm. "Gwanno i ruo nín ario, ar ú-dartha i marad," (Do not despair, we will not abandon her). "Boe men estel." (We must have hope).
I felt a gentle hand on my forehead, the touch cool and comforting. I opened my eyes to see the kind-eyed elf watching over me. She smiled softly. "I see you are awake," She said, It seemed she was a better speaker of the langue I could understand.
I nodded weakly. "Thank you," I managed to say, my voice still hoarse. "For helping me."
She nodded, understanding without needing more words. "We will do all we can to heal you," she said gently. "Rest now, you are safe here in Rivendell."
As I lay back, the fatigue tried to pull me back into slumber, why did that name sound so familiar to me? She paused looking worried as she eyed my side, then continued, "We have sent word to Lord Elrond. He is the greatest healer among us and will know how to best help you." Right lord of the rings would be a place where I could be safe and not hunted down.
The soothing sounds of Rivendell continued to provide a comforting backdrop to my restless state. As my mind drifted back to the events that had happened. I was a mix of emotions I did cry in silence, though it seemed that the ones taking care of me thought it was because of the pain. As they offered me a drink to help num it. I had failed my friend and teacher. would I even be able to go back? Would that demigod be hunting me down? or what of Manimarco would he be Alive, As I am now I couldn't even dream of beating them yet.
I heard soft footsteps approaching which pulled me out of my thoughts. And as the door to the room opened quietly. A tall, regal figure entered, He was handsome, He had long, dark hair and sharp, wise eyes that seemed kind. He was dressed in elegant, flowing robes that accentuated his dignified bearing.
"Lord Elrond," I heard one of the elves say softly, confirming my suspicions.
Elrond approached the bed, his gaze kind but filled with concern. "I apologize for the intrusion," he said gently, his voice carrying a melodic, soothing quality. "But I must see the wound to understand how best to help you."
Two female elves were by my side, one of them being the elf who had spoken to me earlier. She had kind eyes as well and I realized now that I had been too focused on my pain to truly look at her. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and her eyes were a striking shade of blue. This was Arwen, the daughter of Lord Elrond and future wife of Aragorn.
"Forgive me," Elrond said again, his tone respectful. "I regret any shame this may cause." oh if he only knew I wouldn't really be ashamed at all. Truthfully I was feeling more like my human self before I died.
Arwen nodded to her father as the other female elf moved behind me to help me sit and Arwen gently lifted the hem of my dress. Her fingers touched my skin as she lifted it, up past my hips and closer to my breast. While sadly there wasn't any underwear here. I was clean and grateful for that at least. I had to turn to the side a bit to give more access to the wound on my side. I winced as the pain flared, but I held still, knowing this was necessary.
Elrond's brow furrowed as he examined the wound, his fingers hovering just above it without touching. "This is no ordinary wound," he said thoughtfully. "It is necrotic in nature, caused by dark magic." He paused, his expression pensive. "Perhaps a necromancer is involved?"
I nodded weakly. "Yes," I managed to say, my voice still hoarse. "A necromancer...mannimarco."
Elrond's expression showed no recognition of the name, which was expected in this world. He quickly composed himself. "This is grave indeed," he said, his tone serious. "I will do everything in my power to help you."
Arwen gently lowered my dress as I was lowered back onto my back. Elrond's expression grew more serious as he considered the wound. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what needed to be done. "This will not be easy," he said, his tone filled with determination. "But we must act quickly."
He stepped back slightly and began to chant softly what I think was Sindarin, the melodic words flowing from his lips like a gentle river. The room seemed to grow brighter, the light around Elrond intensifying as he invoked what appeared to be a healing ritual. But there was something odd, his ring began to glow with a soft blue light as well.
Arwen and the other female elf stood by, their expressions a mixture of hope and concern. The air in the room grew thick with magic, and I could feel a strange sensation in my side where the wound was. The necrotic magic seemed to react to Elrond's efforts, and a sharp pain shot through me as it began to fight back. And I had to scream from the pain.
Elrond's chanting grew louder, more insistent, and the glow from his ring intensified. The necrotic magic within my wound seemed to writhe and pulse as if it had a life of its own. And soon My veins turned a sickly and ominous black as the dark magic spread rapidly. Gripping the sheets with my hands as my nails dug deep and ripped them a bit all the while I cried out in pain.
"Ú-moe edhored," Elrond intoned, his voice steady and resolute. "Ú-dollen i goth." (You shall not harm, the dark is expelled.)
The pain was excruciating, and I could feel my body trembling with the effort to withstand it. I could feel blood drip from my nose and ears as my body thrashed.
Elrond's face was a mask of concentration, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he continued the ritual. The necrotic magic fought fiercely, trying to spread further through my body it had already covered half of it. But Elrond, kept his chanting going as it reached a crescendo, the words filled with a commanding power.
"Ai maethar, a drego i gohen," he chanted, his voice ringing with authority. (Fight and banish the evil.)
The light from the ring blazed brightly, enveloping the room in a radiant light blue glow that drowned out the white Light he was emitting. I could feel the necrotic magic being drawn out, pulled out of my wound. It resisted with a final, violent surge. With a final, powerful incantation, he drew the dark magic out completely, the last remnants of it dissipating into the air as it seemed to be being burned.
"Tolo i lú, úan i goth," he declared with finality. (Come the light, the dark is gone.)
The pain subsided, leaving a deep sense of relief as I felt extremely sweaty and tired. I could feel a soothing warmth enter my body. Elrond staggered slightly, his face pale and lined with exhaustion and sweat. Arwen quickly moved to support him as he almost staggered back, her concern evident.
"You did it," she said softly, her voice filled with admiration. Elrond nodded, his breath coming in heavy gasps. "That was powerful dark magic," he said, his voice weary but resolute. "I have not encountered such Darkness in a long time, Not since the time of Sauron. It was almost as if it had a will of its own."
Arwen looked at him with deep concern. "Father, you must rest," she urged gently. "You have expended much energy."
Elrond shook his head slightly, though he accepted her support. "There is still much to be done," he said. "But for now, the immediate danger has passed."
He turned to me, his eyes filled with compassion. "The necrotic magic has been purged from your body," he said, his voice soothing. "You will need time to heal, but the worst is over. Rest now, and regain your strength."
Arwen helped him to a chair nearby, and the other female elf brought him a cup of water, which he gratefully accepted. He drank deeply, his weariness evident but his spirit unbroken.
I lay back on the bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion pull at me, but there was also a sense of profound relief. The pain was still there, but it was a dull ache compared to the searing agony of before. And I could feel my connection coming back, I was sure I would be able to enter my mindscape "Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Thank you for saving me."
Elrond managed a tired smile. "You are safe here," he said gently. "We will continue to care for you and ensure your recovery."
Arwen returned to my side, her presence a comforting balm. "Rest now," she repeated softly. "You have been through much, and you need to heal."
As I closed my eyes, the soothing sounds of Rivendell once again provided a comforting backdrop. Before sleep claimed me entirely, my thoughts drifted to the future. I needed to get stronger, and not be treated like a bug ever again.