Faramir Fiction Archive

Simulacra (NC-17)

09 November 2011 | 30013 words | Work in Progress

XXIV

‘Tell me of the Doctrine of Similars, Elrohir.’

‘Ada?’

They were sitting out front of the cottage watching the sunset. Or Elrohir was watching the sunset. Elrond had been sitting in silent contemplation for hours, at times taking on the distant look he wore when farspeaking. His younger son had joined him several times over the afternoon, then left again as Haldir’s needs arose. Haldir had also been sitting immovable much of the day, with that familiar expression that indicated he was far lost in his own shadows.

Apparently their talk had not gone well. Elrond had left the fading elf in the woods afterwards and had not spoken aloud since. Haldir had later returned to the darkness inside. All was now quiet, but it seemed an odd time to review the fundamentals of healing.

His dark sire turned to regard him sharply. The eyebrow.

‘Sorry, Ada. The Doctrine of Similars tells us that a disease may be cured by those remedies that produce effects resembling the disease itself in healthy persons. A tincture that causes head pain for a healthy person may thus be used to treat head pain in a diseased one. Just as the herbal source of a cure may resemble the body part affected, sometimes the vehicle of a cure will also resemble the injury.’

‘And why does it work?’

‘Ada, it assumes that such a cure will share of the essential nature of the disease, and thus be the best course of treatment. It allows our knowledge of the disease’s origin to guide our treatment. Some say that such cures remind the body what is wrong, where it departed from normal, thus taking it back to that moment and harnessing its own healing powers for the treatment process. Like breaking and resetting a bone that it may heal straight.’

The Master Healer nodded. His pupil had learned well.

‘And regarding such a bone, Elrohir, one that has set wrongly, what happens?’

Elrohir sighed inwardly. He was hardly in the mood to be treated as a trainee healer, quizzed on basics while his patient lapsed further into lassitude indoors.

‘If a bone had set wrongly, it might reknit with new bone growth, but it would never be the same. The location of the break itself might become tougher with scar tissue, but overall the bone would be ever weaker because the balance of the limb would be disturbed, so that it might not function as Eru intended. The surrounding muscles and connecting tissue would become deformed to make allowances for the new shape, and in so doing might also lose strength, function or flexibility of motion. Other muscles, particularly of the parallel limb, would compensate for this loss by taking over some functions. For instance a right-handed swordsman might learn to fight left-handed. The uninjured leg of one with a limp will grow stronger with additional use.’

‘And to amend the situation?’

‘Ada, depending on the length of time since the break and the severity of the deformation, some healers might choose to let the wrongly set bone be. But if the new formation causes continued pain or difficulty in function, rebreaking the bone becomes the only option. Then it must be reset properly and the muscles taught to adopt the original shape as correct, that they may keep the bone in place rather than force it back astray out of long habit. Due to the body’s ability to adapt to injury, the longer a bone has been mis-healed, the harder it will be to encourage surrounding tissues and limbs to accept the correction. And in these cases, the stronger the muscles surrounding the bone and the better their compensation, the more difficult retraining and recovering health will be.’

Elrond was again staring out over the woods, yet nodded at his protégé’s recitation.

‘Tell me, hinya, what was the original cause of Haldir’s injury?’

‘Ada, I don’t know exactly, but…’ I don’t feel right saying these words.

‘Yes?’ Not facing it will not help Haldir now. Believe me, I have tried that.

Lowering his eyes, Elrohir continued very quietly, his face grim.

‘I believe he was raped. Brutally. Tortured…’

He swallowed painfully, breathing through his nose to keep his stomach calm.

‘Somehow he was made to feel responsible for what happened to him, to feel that he betrayed not only himself, but his race. He feels he no longer belongs to Elfkind. He cannot recover because he cannot find forgiveness, no matter how valiantly he serves his people or how he abuses Men or himself. And also he fears that to recover is to make light of the pain he endured, which is at the core of who he is. It is the most real thing he knows. Without it he is nothing, which he also fears. He fears our judgment so keenly he cannot speak of what happened even to reach out for help. Fears we will turn from him. And he will be even more alone.’

Elrohir’s voice dropped to a mere whisper.

‘I think if he could, he would die. But for some reason he is unable to do so. And I think that hurts him even more, proves to him the Valar have closed their ears to his cries.’

Elrond contemplated his son for several long moments. Elrohir suspected his own words were being channeled through his father to Galadriel as well. The thought both disturbed and comforted him. He felt exposed to scrutiny, and yet was glad they were connected to something outside this clearing. Finally Elrond spoke again.

‘You see much Elrohir. You see much. Valar forgive me, you feel much as well. For that, I am both proud and sorry. Sometimes I would that it were not so. It is our curse, and yet also the wellspring of our healing power. Your brother has it too, though he channels his into the movement of his sword, perhaps healing our world on a different scale.

‘Many years ago, Galadriel and I agonized over how to help Haldir. Beyond tending his body, we were at a loss. What he had suffered far surpassed our experience; others subjected to far less always faded quickly or died. He did not, though we never learned why. Perhaps to care for his orphaned brothers. Perhaps another reason, yet unknown.

‘We believed that the best we could do was to show him unconditional love, to reassure him of his worth, and to train him to be as powerful as possible, that he might never again feel a victim. That he might be aware of his own strength and have the confidence to face his life anew. He drove himself hard and excelled in every way. We thought it a sign of success. Until he disappeared.

‘We now see the extent of our failure. Haldir’s healing has been like that of an unset bone. He has grown strong, learned to compensate, to hide his weakness, his pain. Yet no matter his accomplishments, never has he been able to return to normal. And over time he has grown more aware of his own loss, of the things he could never do. For this I cannot forgive myself.’

Silence gathered around them like the shadows creeping from darkening woods. Elrond’s eyes turned inward once more, his brows knit in recrimination.

At length, Elrohir spoke. ‘How then do we help him, Ada?’

The elder sighed deeply, and swallowed.

‘To help Haldir, we must appeal to the Doctrine of Similars. We must return him to the position of being overpowered, of having his own control wrested from him, and fearing for his survival, when his ability to trust even himself was destroyed. But this time we will be there for him, and we will give him the forgiveness he craves. Force him to accept our absolution by taking away his control, teaching him to trust only us, and making only our word matter. Giving him no choice. And then giving him permission to live again.

‘In the end, we will set him free. But we must break him again so that we can remake him properly, whole. It will be harsh, and it will hurt – for us, as well as for him. But I do not know another way. The question becomes, do you feel able to do this?’

Listening to his father, Elrohir felt fear pale his face. He watched his elder’s mouth and eyes closely with growing unease, stared at the dark intensity he saw there. For a moment he was afraid.

He forced himself to remember the immensity of Elrond’s golden power as it surged through him days before, the millennia of wisdom both within his brow and within his ring. He recognized the enormity of control and compassion Elrond possessed to wield that power without destroying or being destroyed, and was awed.

By what grace did I come to serve one such as this?

With a start, Elrohir realized his father was looking at him expectantly.

‘Can you do this thing?’

‘Ada, I do not know.’

‘Think on it my son. You do not have to do this. I will do it if you cannot. But I will be here with you — for you — if you do.’

Dark Peredhel eyes met and held, weighted with the blessings of their line.

In a far away grotto, the Golden Lady bowed her head.

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