Lothlórien

        The elf healers tutted and swarmed around him, hands willed with cloths, bowls of water, weird pastes and bandages. His face was dabbed at with a wet cloth to clear away the dirt, sand and dust that caked the wound, and he barely had time to wince in pain before there was a hand at his face, stitching up part of his cheek. Then his face was bandaged and he was left alone.

        Wow. That was either faster than he expected, or he zoned out for most of it. Both were equally likely. Elliott yawned and rubbed his eye. He figured that he didn't need to be in denial anymore because he wasn't hurting anymore. So. His eye was gone, his face was jacked up and his lips had to have a piece of cloth taped over them at all times, lest he spill food and drink out of his mouth. 

        His only remaining eye pricked with tears, and he shut down that train of thought. He wouldn't deny that it happened, but he wouldn't think about it either. Perfect!

        Elliott stood, making his way across the room to the mirror. He bumped into it, then backed off a bit and rubbed his nose as he stared at his reflection. His hair was still horrid, but his face was bandaged and so he didn't have to look at it anymore. The bandages spanned over the entire right side of his face and, honestly? He didn't think he'd ever take them off. They were ugly, yeah, but not nearly as ugly as the scar underneath would be, even when it was healed. He hummed and shifted a few locks of his hair to cover the bandages.

        With a nod, he went out looking for a friend. Aragorn and Boromir had been banished from the room - well, Boromir had. Aragorn had understood that he shouldn't be there and left voluntarily - so he had no clue where anyone was. 

        It wasn't long before he had successfully snuck outside. He placed his hands on his hips and surveyed his surroundings. He couldn't see anyone, but he thought he heard Legolas' voice so he headed that way. There! He ran up to the elf, who was staring morosely into a pond, and tapped his shoulder. Legolas turned around, unsurprised, and raised an eyebrow. "Are you supposed to be out of the infirmary yet?" he asked, lyrical voice dripping with... something. Elliott wasn't the best at figuring that out. 

        Elliott shook his head cheerfully; "Nope!" he said in a jubilant voice, bounding over to dip his hands in the pond. He saw Legolas' eyes narrow in the reflection and decided to change the topic before the elf could say anything else. "Where are the baths?" he asked abruptly, clasping his hands together and looking up at the elf with wide grey eyes. "I'm so dirty. As you can tell," he pulled at a strand of his hair, which was looking more and more bedraggled each time he saw it. Legolas looked physically pained at the state of his hair, then simply grabbed his hand and led him away.

        The bathrooms were huge. Ginormous. Gigantic. Gigantonormous. Elliott quickly filled a bath with slightly steaming water, covered his bandages with his hands and jumped in, clothes and all. This sent a large splash over Legolas, who somehow still looked regal covered in suds and dripping wet. Legolas sighed and grabbed the soaps, not even questioning Elliott's refusal to get undressed in his presence. Elves were a bit more modest than the other sapient species, so Elliott's unwillingness to show any skin wasn't strange. 

        Legolas left the room to let Elliott wash himself properly - after leaving a change of clothes for him, of course - and Elliott finally started washing his hair. This part was much more difficult than he thought it would be, since he technically wasn't supposed to get the bandages wet. He discarded that piece of advice and wetted the top of them, since that was inevitable, but he kept his face out of the water as much as possible. Finally he finished, washed the rest of himself, and changed into the soft, impossibly comfy clothes left out for him. Then he grabbed a brush and stared at the bird's nest on his head.

        No.

       That wasn't goign to happen. There was no way he was ever going to get all the tangles out of that. So he just sighed and left the room. "Legolas!" he said, grabbing the elf's arm. "Do you have any scissors?"

        "Whatever for?" he asked, a confused crease forming between his eyebrows. When Elliott gestured to his hair, Legolas blinked. "No," he said with a tone of finality. "But if you will let me, I can brush it for you?"

        That seemed like the most agreeable option, so he let Legolas bring him back to the infirmary (ugh) and he sat down on the bed. Legolas settled behind him, brush in hand, and started working on the mess that was his hair. 

        It took about an hour. He wasn't even exaggerating; it felt like eternity, but Legolas had said it had been an hour. At least the elf hadn't tugged on his hair, like he could vaguely remember someone else doing. Grey hands pulling a brush roughly through his hair, some gross smell, and it was warm, that was all he remembered. Who? He had no clue. Once it was done, Legolas re-did his bandages, which apparently needed to be replaced since they were wet. He thanked Legolas, who gave a gentle nod, and placed his hair back over the bandaged side of his face. Awesome. Great. Time to go find Boromir and annoy him. Or maybe a nap first, and then Boromir. 

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I just started another book, but it's only a mini one. Like it's only gonna be 3 - 4 chaps and I've already published two. So. Yeah. Check it out if you want. It's more crack-y than this one.