"We have few treatments for such heart ailments. We have been treated them with willow bark tea, but it's effects are limited in those with advanced cases." Healer Lótte frowned slightly.

"You grouped a large number patients together, but I surmise that they actually have several different ailments, which require different treatments." The tall regal figure paused. From a distance, he could be mistaken for a man, especially given the style of his hair. But his voice carried a weight spun from millennia and starkly contrasted with his youthful and muscular warrior frame. "I would agree that the three middle-age patients share similar symptoms that likely stem from the same causes – high blood pressure and a hardening of the arteries. We have had some success treating such cases with an extract of Sweet Woodruff, which thins the blood. It is far more potent anticoagulant than willow bark and one must be careful of the dosage and monitor the patient for signs of bleeding. Even given those drawbacks, it can extend and enhance the quality of life for many patients.

"I have brought some seeds of Sweet Woodruff." Lúnril offered. "Mistress Silsilalda organized samples."

"We would be most grateful to learn how to cultivate it." Lótte turned and addressed several of her apprentices. "Can one of you oversee this effort?" Two of the young men volunteered.

"One can often find it in the woods as well." Elrond noted. "For those with weak hearts, as is the case for the older patient Taurnil, we have limited treatments. It is ever disconcerting to know ones skill is at an end. It is the hope that someday we can help those cases that are as yet beyond our aid that drives our research. Unfortunately, I have had little time recently to devote to such efforts. Mistress Silsilalda, the director of our healing school has organized several studies to investigate new treatments, but as far as I know she has found nothing of therapeutic value."

"Are there many men in your realm?"

"We used to shelter more. Currently, about eight thousand live in our valley. We host many visitors from other lands and have treated the injuries of many a dwarf and even a few eagles."

"Eagles!" He held back a smile as their small guardian moved closer. Healer Lótte's son Haleth was five years old and since the trauma of last week the boy dare not let his Mother out of his sights. Elrond offered the boy a spring of mint, culled from the patch nearby.

"It clears the senses." The peredhel said seriously as he lifted the boy up. "Yes, we were blessed with aide of eagles. Our first winter in the valley the great eagles aided us in hunting for food. They brought meat and led us to areas where nuts and grains were abundant. They even relayed the locations of refuges in need of our aid."

"Can I talk to them?" The small boy obediently smelled the mint.

"If you learn their language." Elrond noted absently as he watched Lótte move to another patch of herbs.

"This is the flower I was telling you about." Lótte bent down and ghosted her fingers over the tall stalk that was adorned with rows of purple flowers. "Master Salabart named it foxglove. He experimented with extracts and found that it could augment and control heart rate. He had been trying a new therapy on Taurnil. But unfortunately he found it hard to regulate the dosage for individual patients and overdoses cause nausea, vomiting, convulsions, and vision problems."

Elrond set the young boy down and bent to study the herb more closely. Cirulian and Beleg stood stoically in the background, similarly concerned for their Lord's safety. Elrond held back a sigh at the knowledge that he would now have to get used to the idea of forever being shadowed by his personal guard.

"It resembles a flower from Mithlond but that plant's habit was different, it was limited to low growing vines. We called it 'Lebedloth'. I do not remember any one noting if it had any medicinal uses, although the flowers appear similar, the two plants might be quite different. We can take samples of it back to Imladris to study if this plant holds any promise for the treatment of heart conditions."

Xxxxxxxxxx

"Where is Elrond?" Prince Valandil was garbed in the finery of his station. The coronation was but an hour away.

"He just returned from rounds in the house of healing." Glorfindel stood in front of the mirror, where he had been in the middle of braiding his hair. He declined to elaborate on the disheveled and dirt-smudged appearance of the elf-Lord, for it would only further unnerve the young prince.

"Just? We need to leave for the ceremony in twenty minutes." Nervous tension rang in the prince's voice. The elf's smile lit up the room, radiating serenity. The resplendent white jacket he wore was embroidered down the front with tiny golden flowers off a golden vine. He looked every inch a noble Lord from Gondolin and the apprehension of this latest royal sprite could do nothing to unnerve him.

"Plenty of time, Penneth. The elves are meeting in the garden in fifteen minutes. We will arrive together." The elf calmly turned back to braiding his hair.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The wind was strong. Even the clouds seemed to acknowledge the fact as the speed their way across the sky, briskly crossing the sun's path. The shadow spread to engulf him. Bitter cold spread through him as he heard the chilling laugh in his head. It seemed as if the Nazgul stood before him.

"Erestor?" A gentle voice cajoled. "Erestor are you well?" He blinked, slowly and with great difficulty focused on the radiant visage in front of him. A sheath of silver hair framed a flawlessly beautiful face.

"My Lady Celebrian?" The weak reply hardly registered.

"Erestor, the sun is shining. It is nearly time for the coronation." Celebrian's warm hand brushed his cheek. "Are you well?" Imladris' chief councilor reached to touch the warm hand that hovered near.

"My Lady," Erestor stuttered uncharacteristically. "Yes, I am fine. Just a dark daydream."

"Leave those dreams behind, turn your thoughts to your Lady instead. Gwidian awaits her bridegroom in a few short months." The rich tenor of Earendil's son resonated around him, insistently and unrelentingly drawing him to the present. The strong, kind visage willed him to acknowledge its presence. Warmth flowed from strong fingers that grasped his as the voice turned teasing. "You appear quite presentable Lord Erestor. Shall we proceed to Valandil's installation as King?"

"Poor lad, so young to be pressed into such responsibility." Erestor lips quirked wryly as he took in the grandeur of Imladris' Lord, who was garbed in a royal indigo cloak held in place by a mithril clasp, which combined the silmaril emblem of Earendil's house with Celebrian's rose. But for the shortened hair, he appeared to be an elven King. "For the first time a yen" he thought, "his friend wore the mithril circlet that was a gift from Gil-Galad."

"You are mistaken." Elrond could easily read his friend's thoughts. "The circlet is a requirement in Mithlond but luckily unnecessary in Imladris."

"Some elves have used every excuse to avoid similar titles." Celebrian gasped at Erestor's teasing but a chuckle escaped Elrond's lips.

"Touché! But I have been told that it is traditional for the Avari to 'roast' the groom on the eve before the nuptials."

"It would be quite below your rank to participate in such low-brow humor." Erestor retorted.

"Au contraire, that is one event I look forward to. I have a special invitation from Prince Orodiun and your sister. Calimdriel's requests were most interesting."

"You would not dare to acquiesce to my sister's requests." Erestor hissed. But Elrond lips curved upward in response.

"Come, my friend, we have a coronation to witness." Elrond, Erestor and Celebrian headed towards the garden's elaborate gates. Celeborn and Glorfindel stood there speaking with Orophin and Haldir. Several other elves arrived to greet them.

"My Lords and Ladies." One of the royal guards approached and bowed before addressing Elrond. "Queen Muriel sent us to escort you to the Hall of Kings." The elves filed behind Elrond and Celebrian and they began the short walk down the esplanade to the imposing white towers of the Hall of Kings. Standing before the massive doors, many could imagine they now knew how dwarves perceived the world. Indeed more than on elf audibly gasped when they entered the Hall. The building was laid out on a cross grid with a raised central square that held the large throne.

"Elendil the tall." Erestor muttered as they passed a collection of musicians who were performing a delightful contrapuntal tune. Large string instruments constructed in an hourglass shape took over the melody. Their unusual deep tones startled the elves.

"They are called cellos." Elrond was quietly describing their origins to Celeborn. Erestor marveled at the sheer scale of this coronation service. Several thousand chairs were set up on each of the three long corridors. The fourth alcove had a slightly raised floor not as high as the royal throne. A huge banner was decorated with a representation of the White Tree Nimloth with seven stars and a silver crown above it. It was the standard of Elendil. Obviously the members of the royal family and Arnor's council would fill these places behind the throne. Their guard led them to front seats in the second alcove, where the banners of Imladris, Mithlond, and Lothlórien were prominently displayed. Elrond was escorted to the center chair and Glorfindel and Erestor sat to one side of him. Celebrian and her father completed the first row. The other elves took seats behind them.

"Are there building of this scale in the west?" Erestor turned to Glorfindel. Of the elves gathered, only the Vanya had come from the west. Glorfindel paused and looked upwards. The walls all seemed to draw the eyes towards the heavens and were capped by impossibly high vaulted domes.

"How is it men seek to hue such things from stone and mortar, when elves do not?" Celebrian marveled.

"It is taller than the giant Mallorns." Celeborn stated in shock.

"It took nearly a hundred years and countless thousands to construct." Elrond informed them. "It is the first building Elendil commissioned. I think it gave the people new hope and inspiration. The supports they designed to hold up the massive roof are an engineering marvel. Pengolodh and I saw its humble foundations on our first trip here."

"How many disagreements did that Lore Master cause?" Erestor teased knowingly. Elrond shook his head but did not elaborate.

"Have you witnessed many coronations?" Celebrian's soft whisper was inaudible to all but elves.

"Only a few. You have likely observed more." Elrond returned. Celebrian could have sworn that the words were not spoken aloud. "I accompanied Ereinion to Green Wood for Oropher's coronation. The others were simple ceremonies during times of war as opposed to such formal rituals." She slipped her hand discreetly under the wide sleeve of his formal cloak and squeezed his hand.

"You are not overly fond of such rites?" She teased.

"Ereinion hated them. I had to endure his endless complaining and scathing commentary."

"I never guessed."

"He knew that formal procedures held their importance."

"Yet those who insist on such insufferable etiquette are often those that wield the least power." Celebrian's tone mimicked Ereinion's well-known sarcasm.

"He delighted in crafting statements that could be taken two ways. It would appease the insufferable council. Yet once they left and digested the statements, they would immediately doubt their position."

"I peg the stout Lord with the long beard as one of those insufferable councilors." Celebrian predicted as they watched the regally attired Lord processed grandly by. He carried a velvet cushion upon which sat a silver crown.

"That is councilor Hardan. His heart is in the right place, though his demeanor raised Erestor's suspicions. He boasts that he can trace his lineage back to the original house of Haleth."

"Could one equate that with tracing ones' lineage to Aman? That is not so extraordinary."

"In terms of the lives of men, it is more akin to awakening at Cuivienen." The music changed abruptly and all turned with curiosity to towards the entrance. Queen Muriel had just crossed the threshold between the two story high doors. She carried the Scepter of Annúminas and wore a radiant white gem set on a silver fillet. The musical procession had religious overtones.

"I thought the Elendilmir was lost with Isildur." Erestor whispered.

"It was." Elrond confirmed solemnly. "They commissioned another."

"For so long, men of Númenor existed in harmony with the Valar and Eru. I think Glorfindel will find the ceremony filled with Quenyan words that were more common in his youth." Elrond drew his friend into their mental conversation.

"In some ways, these men adhere to the old ways more than elves." Glorfindel agreed.

"They seek forgiveness for the sins of Númenor – the sins that turned the Valar against their people."

"Yet so many faithful were saved and now flourish." Celebrian took in their numbers in amazement. All heads turned now to follow the procession of Valandil. The young prince wore elaborate amethyst robes, which swept the marble floor behind him. Cornets blared in triumph as he ascended the steps to the raised platform and moved to stand next to the Queen. The ceremony commenced in perfect Quenyan.

"Perhaps there are more here than Noldor in the west who speak this ancient language fluently." Glorfindel mused.

"It is now considered an honor to learn the ancient tongue. For so long they had to speak it only in secret."

Hymns marked the changing of leadership from the Queen Mother to this youngest son as the scepter changed hands. Valandil chanted his grandfather's words:

"Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta." Indeed, the crowd repeated the words in unison. The roaring voices echoed in the chamber like thunder. Then King Valandil vowed to rule in righteousness and remain faithful to the ancient religion and traditions from Númenor. Ancient songs praising Eru were sung, moving both young and old to tears as they remembered all that was blessed and good in this world. Indeed, history would remember Valandil's rule as part of the golden age of Arnor.