Healing the Heart

AN: Hi everyone, this is the next chapter! I’m glad that everyone enjoys my story so much, it really makes me happy. Unfortunately my chapters might be coming more slowly from now on. I’m in my last semester of college now and I have TONS of painting to get done for a show so please bear with me while I try to get everything done. I will promise that I will post as much as I possibly can. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this chapter.



PS. A reviewer has questioned about Gil-galad, the original high king of the elves. He will be appearing he is simply in his kingdom of Lindon which is quite a distance away (according to the maps) and is on route to the council. Elrond is a lord in his own right and because Imlandris has existed since shortly after the war between Sauron and the elves began in 1693 I believe that it’s standing as one of the elven realms has grown enough that he can pull strings and take control when he wishes. He still looks to Gil-galad for guidance but the older elf is not a tyrant. Elrond is able to do as he wishes. I am also going under the assumption that the Glorfindel in The Fellowship of the Ring is the same Glorfindel as the one of Gondolin. There is debate about this but after reading everything I could about them and thinking about what would be best for the story I have decided that while Tolkien may not have originally meant for them to be one he corrects it later to say that they are the same person and that is good enough for me. ^^





I would also like to say that I have been doing extensive research for this fanfic to ensure that my information is correct. I really do appreciate when someone points out facts that I might miss but please be considerate. The person who reviewed was not nasty or mean but I just want to let everyone one know that I greatly appreciate how kind everyone is and would just ask that if criticisms are given that you please respect that I am putting a lot of time into this and I am not simply blowing it off. I am a true fan and I am writing this so that everyone can enjoy it. ^^ I love being on Adultff.net so much more than ff.net mainly because I know that the people here are so much more mature and polite. Thank you again!





Now on to what you really want! The story XD



Chapter Four: Nightingale









If there was one thing that Isildur had learned about healing it was that it couldn’t be rushed. The body simply had to run at it’s own pace to rebuild and mend whatever was afflicting it and if they tried to speed up the process too much it could cause more injury than before. Elflings were delicate and small and trying to force the fragile body into consciousness before it was ready could cause irreparable damage. Therefore the only thing they could do now was to have patience. All healers had to have patience. He knew this. He understood.



But that didn’t mean that he had to like it.



For nearly two weeks he and the elven lord had worked to help the small youngling recover. Elrond had started instructing him on how to alter a medicine just slightly so that it wouldn’t be too powerful for the weakened child and how to check to make sure that no other bones were broken without harming the other present injuries. They had spent every possible moment at the elfling’s side but between his regular duties as crown prince and as a father of four and Elrond’s duties as visiting lord, it was not as frequently as they could have wished. The one person who did remain to keep a constant vigil over the small figure bundled in the bed was Glorfindel.



The blonde elf had seemed to deem himself the youngling’s protector and only left the room to visit the lavatory facilities or to bathe and he would only do so if the lord Elrond was in the room while he was gone. He did not seem to hold any animosity towards the race of men – he had held a few whispered conversations with Anárion when his brother had come to check on how the elfling was doing – but he also didn’t seem to trust them with the care of an injured child of The Eldar. Isildur knew that this wasn’t meant as an insult and just made sure that the servants brought the elf’s meals to him so he wouldn’t go hungry.



Unfortunately even with the devoted watcher at his side, the small youngling had yet to show anymore signs of waking after the initial fogged moments Glorfindel had witnessed. The fever had finally broken and the horribly large wound on his shoulder that Elrond had been forced to sew shut was starting to knit itself back together. The injury still appeared quite gruesome and painfully red but there was no indication that it was infected and if it continued to heal at the rate it was now Elrond suspected that the stitches could be taken out in another week to two. The elven lord simply assumed that the youngling’s deep sleep was an attempt to heal whatever mental and psychological wounds that the young elf had experienced. He was tentatively hopeful that once the youngling’s subconscious was able to deal with what he had gone through that he would wake once more.



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The elfling’s consciousness was not as optimistic about the situation.



Locked inside his nightmares, Harry struggled to not give into the darkness that threatened to consume his soul. In truth Tom had gotten far closer to corrupting his Light counterpart than he would ever know. It wasn’t through power, or greed, however…but through sorrow and pain. The knowledge that after all he had trained and sacrificed…he still hadn’t been strong enough to save the ones he cared for nearly broke him completely. He hadn’t been good enough. The guilt was as chains binding his heart and pulling it down into despair.



It was constant.



It was crippling.



It took everything Harry had not to give into it.



The air was heavy around him, weighing down his shoulders and thick in his lungs as he slowly made his way through the dark corridor. He knew this place…from a dream, or a memory. The smell of dust and stale death made his nose rebel but he didn’t bother to try and block it.



The sound of his shoe stepping in liquid almost made his stomach revolt and come back up but he determinedly pushed it down. It wasn’t water that was on the floor. Another step and another as the sound began to grow louder around him. Reverberating off the walls. Dripping could be heard. Drip. Drip. DRIP. Like a rhythm. Like a chant. It imprinted itself into his brain. Over and over, louder and louder as he kept walking.



Then suddenly it stopped.



For a moment Harry hadn’t realized that it wasn’t there any longer but he froze as silence echoed around him. Silence so loud it screamed in his ears. Reaching out he felt for the door that he knew would be there. His heart pounded painfully in his chest and ears. The doorknob was slick and cold. He had to grip it with both hands before he could manage to keep it from skipping from his grasp. The soft click of the fastener turning inside pierced the silence and he paused before hesitantly pushing it open to meet what he knew was on the other side.



“Harry.”



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Light streamed through the window, sneaking around the curtains and sliding across the floor then up onto the bed in its sneaky, ever persistent way. A head of golden hair glinted in the soft morning light as the warrior elf sat in the same chair as before. Now, however, he was dozing lightly, his eyes unfocused and his hand resting softly on the elfling’s fingers to ensure that if he stirred he would be awoken by the movement even if he didn’t see it.



He had become accustomed to sleeping beside the elfling, unconsciously listening to his heartbeat and breathing to make sure that it continued. There had been a couple of scares at first when the small youngling had faltered but now it had steadily become stronger and he was sure that he would heal physically. Mentally he was still worried just like the others but all they could do was wait and see.



Any dreams or thoughts that were going through Glorfindel’s mind, however, were suddenly and violently slammed to a halt when a terrified and piercing scream erupted from the small figure on the bed. The next instant the blonde was leaning over the thrashing form and was almost hit in the face with one of his flying fists. He tried to restrain him gently, tried to keep him from pulling the stitches or harming himself but it only seemed to scare the elfling even more until he jumped upright in the bed and his eyes snapped open. He screamed something that Glorfindel couldn’t understand and as he could see the fog in those deep green eyes he understood that the youngling didn’t realize what was going on. In his mind he was still in the world that was causing him such pain. He quickly pulled him against his chest gently to hold his arms secure and prevent anymore pain to the small elf as he began rocking him gently and whispering to him softly.



“Shh, little one it’s alright. You are safe. You were having a nightmare.” he tried, running his fingers softly through the thick ebony mane. “Just breathe slowly and everything is going to be alright. You are safe here. I will not allow for any harm to befall you.”



The small body remained tense for a long few moments, his breathing erratic and his heartbeat pounding desperately in his chest but finally after he began to slow down and when his grip on Glorfindel’s arm began to relax a little the blonde was able to pull away slightly. He gently tilted the elfling’s chin up to look in his eyes and make sure that he was indeed truly awake before offering a faint smile.



“Welcome to the world, little one.” he chuckled faintly, watching as the confused and awed youngling stared up at him without being able to say anything. “Are you more aware now?”



The dark haired elf hesitated before pulling back a little and sending him an uncertain and troubled look. His bright, vibrant green eyes looked over him cautiously before darting around the room. Glorfindel could tell that he was distressed about not knowing where he was exactly and gently eased him down onto the pillows again.



“You are safe.” He assured him again gently. “You are in the palace of Minas Anor in the kingdom of Gondor. Lord Elrond of Imlandris and the first Prince of Gondor, Isildur has been taking care of you.”



The youngling seemed to understand his words…just not the names. A faint glimmer of recognition flashed through his eyes and he swallowed. He opened his mouth to try and say something but coughed as his extremely dry throat was irritated. Glorfindel quickly reached for a glass on the side table and poured him some water from a fresh pitcher that had been brought by earlier that morning. He helped the elfling sit up faintly before letting him sip at the water. The dark haired child tried to gulp it down but the warrior knew that it wasn’t good for his system to suddenly be flooded with liquid after going without. Once his thirst was quenched and his throat wasn’t burning he looked back up to him.



“The…the man…Isildur. He was here before…?” he asked hesitantly, almost startled that he was able to talk despite how it was still very raspy with lack of use.



Glorfindel just accepted it as part of just waking up from almost two weeks of sleep.



“Yes, he was taking care of you while we were informed of your injuries.” he said gently, his eyes turning sorrowful in memory of how badly the little elf was injured. “We had not realized that you were in danger, young one, or we would not have allowed this to happen.” he swore.



The elfling looked a little unsure at that, shifting but winced as the movement pulled on his stitches and stilled once more. He absently ran a hand through his hair and lightly fingered the tip of his ear before looking back to him.



“You…were here before too.” he said softly, causing a small smile to pull on the elf’s lips. “I’m sorry…but I do not remember your name.” he admitted sheepishly.



The old warrior chuckled lowly, setting the glass aside and offering a kind smile.



“That is perfectly alright, I believe that it would be difficult for me to remember someone’s name when I was barely conscious at the time as well.” he teased faintly before sitting back a little to give the elfling more room. “I am Glorfindel of Imlandris, Head of Guard and semi-advisor to Lord Elrond when he will have me.” he chuckled, trying to be a bit more relaxed with the elfling than he would others to try and make him feel more relaxed.



Unfortunately it didn’t seem to work very well. The youngling didn’t seem to respond at all really to his explanation: relaxing or tensing. He just continued to watch warily. Glorfindel was unused to seeing this kind of unsure personality in an elfling but considering the circumstances that they had found him in it really wasn’t surprising. He decided just to keep going slow and hope that he could earn his trust. No elfling should ever fear one of the Eldar.



“Are you hungry?” he asked gently, watching the other.



The elfling seemed to hesitate but after a short mental debate he seemed to decide that it was alright and nodded.



Glorfindel smiled gently and stood.



“I’ll have some soup be brought to us.” he assured him before going to the door and looking out.



He quickly asked a passing servant girl to bring the food back to the room before closing the door again and returning to his chair. His silver blue eyes scanned the boy unconsciously to make sure that he wasn’t bleeding or he didn’t look to be in any more pain. Thankfully he seemed to not be as uncomfortable as before now that he was still again and Glorfindel could relax a little.



The elven warrior nodded, his eyes turning thoughtful and kind.



“Before when you awoke for a short while you told me that you did not have a name. Did you remember ever having a name or have you perhaps forgotten it? Do you remember how it was that you arrived in Gondor?” he said carefully, watching the younger’s face.



Harry tensed a little, glancing at the blonde and not sure what he should do. If he said had a name they would of course want to know what it was and he didn’t think ‘Harry’ would fit in this world. He didn’t want to bring even more attention to himself than he already was. Playing dumb was probably the best chance he had. That way he wouldn’t have to explain how he got there…not that he knew that to begin with really.



“I…I don’t remember.” he finally whispered, looking away a little and ducking to hide his eyes.



The golden haired angel seemed to hesitate a little before placing his hand gently on his head, the touch warm and comforting. For a moment it almost felt like when Sirius used to do that to him during those sombre talks before he would ruffle his hair and beam a laugh. Sirius had always been like that…or at least that was what Remus had told him. He could remember the soft, empty eyes of the werewolf and he knew how much the man had loved his godfather. Loosing him once then living with the guilt of knowing he had believed Sirius to be guilty when he had not been then loosing him again after finally getting him back. It was a wonder that the broken wizard hadn’t killed himself sooner…



Harry’s thoughts were interrupted, however, by the angel’s voice as the hand gently pulled away.



“Well…then perhaps we could give you a new name for the time being until you remember.” he suggested, obviously trying very hard to be as careful as possible to not upset him.



Harry was used to that after being considered insane and fragile for a good number of years so he tried to just ignore it.



“What would my name be?” he asked, curious as to what the other would come up with.



Glorfindel was quiet for a long moment; silently thinking over what could be a name for him he suspected. Harry watched interested, going along with the whole idea just so that he could get a grasp on things before leaving to go in search for his godfather. He would probably have to wait until he was completely better before he would be able to sneak away from them. It also wouldn’t hurt to have a name already chosen so he could use it on the road.



The golden haired male finally seemed to come to a decision and offered a faint tilt of his lips as a smile.



“What do you think of Laith?” he asked.



Harry tilted his head a little, rolling the name over on his tongue. Laith. Well it certainly wasn’t horrible and it was short enough to remember.



“What does it mean?” he asked, not exactly wanting to have a name that means ‘flower’ or something that strange.

Glorfindel seemed to understand and laughed a bit at the way Harry’s nose scrunched up in thought.



“Don’t worry, Laith just means ‘spirit’. I believe that you have a very strong one and that it fits you nicely.” He smiled.



Harry raised an eyebrow, thinking it over. He wasn’t sure how the other thought that he knew what kind of spirit he had but set it aside as part of the strange habit that adult had of thinking they knew what kind of person he was without even knowing him. But it wasn’t as if he couldn’t change the name anyway if he decided that he didn’t want it. And it wasn’t really that bad…



“Alright…Laith.” he agreed, absently picking at one of the bandages on his arm.



A name wasn’t that important after all and after being obsessed over just because of his name for so many years he couldn’t say that he was sad to be getting a new one and leaving ‘Harry James Potter’ behind. It was freeing in a way. As if the chains of who he had been had slipped off at least while he was there in that new world.







A comfortable silence took over as the two settled back. It was a lot to take in for the youngling after all and Glorfindel was used to silence while bothering Erestor in the libraries. The dark haired elf would always give him a glare worthy of Sauron himself if the guard tried to interfere with his work. He had just learned to accept it and sit quietly until the other elf was done with whatever manuscripts or tombs he was pouring over.



A few minutes later a knock came at the door and Isildur stepped in, carrying a tray of soup for the recovering patient. Glorfindel nodded at him as the prince stepped in and offered a smile before setting the soup down on the side table.



“How are you feeling?” he asked softly. “Eldowin informed me that she was bringing you your meal and so I decided to do so instead since I was heading in this direction already.”



He was lying of course. He had duties all the way on the opposite side of the castle but after hearing that the elfling was awake he could put it off until later so that he could check on his patient.



The elf knew the man long enough to know that he was a natural healer and cared for the health of anyone that came into his life. It was understandable that he would be so careful about the little ellon’s safety after having children of his own. He watched the youngling look up to him from the pillows and offer a weak, unsure smile.



“Fine…” he said softly, starting to try and get up a little so that he could eat but when he winced as the stitches pulled again two pairs of hands instantly began to gently lifting him to a sitting position.



Once Glorfindel was sure he was situated and comfortable he sat back to watch Isildur put the tray on the other’s lap to help him eat. The elfling seemed a bit unsure about them both being beside him but he hid it well. He was actually very amazed at the…calculating look in the ellon’s eyes. He had a maturity that bordered on adult even for elven standards. The blonde wasn’t sure what had caused this abnormal change in an elfling but it probably had to do with why he had been injured. It was strange though. He had a feeling that he could not treat this child the same as he would other younglings. He did not think he would allow being treated as a youngling.



The elfling – now Laith – remained still for a few more moments, seeming to assess them a bit now that he wasn’t half dazed before carefully and shakily picking up the spoon to start eating. Isildur made a move to try and help feed him but Glorfindel quickly motioned for him not to. He could see from his posture and tenseness that the elfling was trying to appear tough, strong. Sure of himself. Doing something like feeding him would probably make him uncomfortable and he would possibly get upset. That was the last thing he wanted. The prince seemed torn about the action but pulled back anyway and just watched closely in case the youngling needed him.



Once the soup was mostly gone and Laith pushed it away the prince quickly jumped into action and began trying to examine the boy gently. He prodded the broken ribs a little to make sure they were still in alignment and healing before unwrapping his shoulder to check the larger wound. The stitches had pulled and there was a little bit of bleeding from when the elfling had thrashed about in his sleep but they had not broken and were still in good enough condition to leave alone. Isildur was pleased with this and he pulled out some more of the cream to prevent infection. After gently smoothing some onto all of the open injuries he began to wrap the shoulder again and allowed the young elf to relax. He was surprised when the other made no sound and did not flinch the entire duration of the exam.







Harry almost jumped when the man – he wasn’t an angel-like being like the other was – began prodding and examining him. He looked softer than Madam Pomfrey but he seemed like he could be just as stern. His hair was dark brown and was neater than he remembered the last time, pulled back a little with a silver band thing around his head. It kind of reminded him of the old paintings he would see of Godric Gryffindor, only his had been gold. He must have really been a prince like Glorfindel said. This…Gondor that he landed in…it must have been like medieval times. Did magic exist here? How exactly was it that he had been changed? Was his godfather changed too? Was Sirius even there in the same world? No he had to be. The notes had been broken but it was obvious that the portal was stationary and could only be the link to one world. Another would have to be made if another world was desired.



There were just too many unknowns for him and he didn’t like it. After everything that had happened he could clearly state that what he hated most in the world above all were surprises…because his surprises typically included lots of pain and even more blood. Usually of someone he cared for. Unfortunately there was nothing more he could do about it but deal. He would figure out what was going on. What he was. Where exactly he was. Then he would leave and find Sirius. End of story.

Now he just had to figure out a way to survive being smothered by two grown men acting as over protective nurses.

He barely listened to the prince as the man told him to be careful and only lay down on his back and if anything started to hurt that he needed to have someone retrieve him or Lord Elrond immediately. It wasn’t like he hadn’t dealt with worse injuries before.



Soon, however, Harry was starting to get tired again and he watched Glorfindel pull back to stand then covered him up gently.



“Rest little Laith, we will be right here. I simply need to speak with the prince out in the hall for a moment then I will return.” he said before looking to Isildur.







The dark haired man nodded, offering a comforting smile to the ellon again before the two moved to leave the room. Closing the door behind him, Glorfindel sighed faintly but relaxed a little. He knew that if there was anything seriously wrong with the boy that Isildur would have called for Lord Elrond right away but the warrior didn’t want to take any chances.



“So will he be alright?” he asked in Westron – common speech - so that the elfling wouldn’t understand them if he over heard them from inside.



They had been informed that the youngling probably didn’t know the language because he hadn’t seemed to understand Isildur when he had tried to speak with him the first time until he used Sindarin. If it was anything important he could explain it to Laith later but right now he just needed to rest and not worry. Thankfully the prince shook his head.



“He’s fine…did he say that his name was Laith?” he asked curiously, hoping that they could find more out about the child so that they could know what happened and find who did this.



“No, he doesn’t remember his name and he doesn’t remember how he has arrived in your lands.” Glorfindel said with a soft shake of his head. “It…worries me. I have heard of instances of great trauma that leave the victim with no memory of what happened to them. This seems to perhaps be one of those instances.”



“But he remembers that his parents are dead.” Isildur frowned, thinking over the idea.



“Yes but their deaths could have happened many years ago. His loss of memory might be just recent…though I admit I am not sure why his name was lost as well. We will have to see. At the moment I do not think it best to question him too much until he has recovered. I do not wish to see him become wary of us. He seems to trust us at the present moment and it would not do well to jeopardize that.” He explained, absently glancing down the hall for anyone close enough to hear them. “I also think it best that no one is told that he does not remember. Until he is safe in Lórien with our people the less others know of him the better.”



Isildur understood and nodded in agreement, shifting a little and glancing down the hall as well out of habit.



“I agree, I will make sure Anárion knows not to speak of the elfling to others. I will have to speak with my father about it later, though. He is with Lord Elrond. They have been speaking in private since this morning. I believe they are discussing the topic of the council being called.” He informed, catching the other up on what he had not heard about yet while taking care of the elfling.



The mention of the council made Glorfindel tense a little though and the gentleness in his eyes faded into the controlled and analytical state of the deadly warrior who had taken down a Balrog on his own took its place.



“Lord Gil-galad should be arriving within the month.” He said thoughtfully. “Once the council is in session we can convince the leaders of men and elves to join together to fight Sauron. We will need everyone’s allegiance if we are to defeat The Black Hand.” He said seriously.



He knew of the deception of Sauron; going under the guise of Annatar the Lord of Gifts and trying to deceive the Eldar kings by creating the one Ring of Power to control their minds. The once great Maiar who had come to Middle Earth to help guide the people of Aulë and was now corrupted by Melkor himself to darkness and evil. Melkor was no longer a threat but now Sauron was even worse so and the danger was not only to elves now but to the Middle Earth and its people in entirety.



Glorfindel had not returned from the Halls of Waiting to find his world threatened once more by darkness. Even if he had to destroy Sauron himself he would do so to ensure that this evil ended here and now.



“We will destroy Sauron before anymore innocence is killed.” He said softly but firmly, his eyes steely gray in determination.



Isildur watched the other, faintly impressed by the imposing figure the elf made.



“Yes. We will.” He said firmly, thinking of his own sons and not wanting to imagine this going on to the point that they would have to fight in the war.



Children should never be forced to finish the war their fathers began.



Glorfindel nodded faintly, obviously thinking intensely – on what Isildur knew not - before turning.



“Please inform Lord Elrond if you see him that I would appreciate him coming to see Laith if he can once he and King Elendil have finished speaking.” He asked politely with a faint bow to the royalty.



The prince smirked faintly, bowing his head back and amused at the action.



“I believe I can manage that.” He said with a chuckle. “Take care of our elfling.”



The two parted, Glorfindel returning to the youngling’s side and Isildur leaving to fulfil all of his duties, a list that never seemed to end from being crowned prince.



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Power…a new power had entered Middle Earth. He could feel it. Raw and thriving with unlocked potential and a boundless amount of energy. It was on par with the rings themselves. Only uncontained and pure. Very pure. So pure it made him ill with revulsion. Even with the faintly shadowed edges its light eclipsed almost all he had ever felt.



Only one of the Valar could hold a power so pure and unlimited. Had one returned to Middle Earth? No. They could not. They could no longer interfere. This was his world now and he was not going to loose it to another. He would find this…this Child of Manwë and ensure that they did not interfere in his plans.



A clawed hand scraped lightly over the surface of the palantír, the thrumming red light from within flaring at the touch. Perhaps now was not the best time to make his next move. Yes. He would wait. He would watch and he would see just what this power was then find its weakness. He would destroy it before it had a chance to become a threat.



Nothing was going to stop him.



Nothing.







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AN: Thank you all for being so wonderful and tell me what you think! I have a lot of ideas planned but I’d love to know what you’d suggest! Thank you all again and I love you so much! I’m sorry again for the wait and I will try to finish the next chapter sooner.