One breath, I tell him. One breath, my son. Now another.

He calms under my soothing hands and I repeat this mantra, over and over. Terrified grey eyes, choking gasps – they fade, and calmer breathing sets in as my son drifts back into troubled dreams.

My breathing is a steadier imitation of his as I trace over the dark bruises on his throat, fingers brushing ever so gently. A spark of anger flames within me for the hundredth time, but, impatiently, I push it aside. All my thoughts, my being, are concentrated on the still form I cradle closely, chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, for now it is much darker, and Elrohir's breathing has quickened again. My heart aches as I sense his distress through our bond. I rest my hand lightly over his heart, reaching out to ease the struggle within. But it is different, this time.

It is more than mere snatches of memory. This time I feel more of my son's panic, for I can gaze into his eyes and see it all so horribly clearly.

Trapped under the man's heavy form, fighting to escape the sinewy hands that slowly crushed the life from him, a bruising vice about his throat...

A cut-off cry escapes Elrohir's throat, nearly a whimper. My voice, even as I seek to awaken him from these nightmares, falls silent.

Blackness swirled before his eyes, fading, fleeing, and there was no light.

"Elrohir my son!"

His struggling ceases; his eyelids flutter, and his sweat-soaked body begins to relax.

"Elrohir..."

His eyes open, ever so slowly, and one pale, bandaged hand flies to his bruised throat. "Ada!" he gasps hoarsely, tears of pain and frustration glinting at the corners of his eyes.

"Hush," I soothe, and gather him in my arms again. I am holding him like an elfling, but he does not care. He buries his head in the crook of my shoulder and trembles, heart racing against mine.

Slowly, tenderly, I turn him to face me, and rest my forehead against his. Frightened eyes fly open, and his hands grope at my forearms, clinging tightly to me.

"One breath, Rochir-nín," I whisper softly. "Good. Now one more, little one."

It has grown light outside, but I do not move my eyes from Elrohir's. His breathing has long since eased, but still I speak, my hand stroking his raven hair.

"One breath in, Elrohir. Now release it..."

In... out... in... out...

And he sleeps.