13. Hands of a Healer - Forodwaith's birthday drabble
"Glorfindel was sighted bringing them from the Ford; one they bear as though lifeless-" Elrond looks at once from the breathless Elf to his daughter; she nods and is gone.
Opening and closing the herbary's many drawers with deft speed, Arwen lists methodically: Willowbark, for fever; nettle, for bleeding; athelas, for-
Do not name it. She straightens up. All is ready.
Hinges creak: she looks round, then down.
"From the Ford?" The normally cheerful voice quavers. "Is-is it Frodo?..."
She drops to one knee beside him, takes the small cold hands in hers.
"Have courage, Bilbo. Here there is healing."
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