“Let me walk you to your tent and examine this wound.”
Galadriel nodded, even though the pain seemed to have gone away, for now. She looked smaller and very tired, as if she hadn't slept a wink for the last hundred years. The Galadriel he knew would have waved away his concerns and pretended to be fine. She would have taken a sword and started training to focus on something she liked; she was just that strong. Seeing this force of nature so weakened and reliant on him wrung Elrond’s heart. He wished Sauron stood in front of him so he could make him pay for what he did.
Elrond gently asked Galadriel to lie on her bed and to show her the wound. He refused to let the sight of her barely covered breast distract him, entirely focused on the task at hand. The injury was the same as he had seen it the last time, clean and healed, in appearance. It didn’t surprise him, as it was obvious that the problem was much deeper, screeching under the surface. He murmured words of comfort that made her smile and invited her to close her eyes and relax. An amused laugh came out of her throat.
“Close my eyes, I can do that. Loosen up, though… Elrond, it’s me!”
Elrond’s only answer was a thin smile tugging at his lips. Her spirit was as sharp as ever, and
her wit was intact. He let his hand hover over the wound and, his eyes shut, murmured words of prayer to let the light flow through him. The sound of Nenya chiming told him Galadriel's ring was rejoicing with him in his attempt to cast the darkness away from Galadriel's soul, desiring as much as he did to save her bearer from the grip that Sauron still had on her. Elrond had inherited healing skills from his foremother Melian, but neither he nor Gil Galad would have been able to stop Galadriel’s soul from being ensnared in the Shadow realm without the intervention of Nenya. And today, again, she would help him to push Sauron away.
Elron stared at Nenya, who was now shining with a particular intensity, then his eyes softened as they lay on Galadriel’s face. She was now so calm she seemed asleep, though Elrond could feel through that she was very much awake, unable to ever calm the tempest in her. But at least, she was no longer battling… For now.
“Thank you, Elrond,” Galadriel murmured as she put her hand on his. Why was her skin so soft against his? “What would I do without you, mellon ?” Elrond let out a brief laugh to hide his ache. Of course, she called him 'friend'... How could he hope for anything else?