[Envinyatar]

Tenzin’s face was pale as he directed one of the women to bring his medicine kit to him. ‘Open it if you would,’ he said in a hurried, ragged voice. ‘There in the center – that green vial. Open it for me.’ Fionel pulled the tight cork stopper from the bottle, and handed it to him, watching as he drank sparingly of the honey scented liquid. The odor of poppies perfumed the air and then passed on as he handed it back to her, and she sealed it once again. After a few moments he moved his right arm gingerly, flexing his fingers to see that they could meet his needs.

From a small parchment packet he took several large leaves, and placing them in his mouth, he chewed them carefully into a moist fibrous wad. This he slipped beneath the bandage they had bound on him, pushing it firmly over the still bleeding puncture wound. He moved with more ease now, the tincture of poppies masking the pain.

Bind the bandage on a little tighter, please’ he asked, his eyes flicking up to meet her grey ones. ‘The leaves should stop the bleeding for now, and the other will hold back the pain.’ As a last thought he took two small, ovoid leaves and chewed them slowly, then tucked the mass between his cheek and gum. ‘And these will give me the energy I do not have for the battle. I only hope it will be brief. The stimulant effects will not last a long time, and when they have gone, I will be at the mercy of any who approach.’

She offered him a skin of water, and he drank it thirstily, thanking her as she took it from him. Rhûnnaro was approaching, having shown the women where they were to hide in waiting, and Turos where he was to lie, looking helpless, and abandoned. Fionel stood, thinking to go back to her own assigned position. Tenzin's left hand reached up for hers, drawing her into a low crouch before him.

‘Wait,’ he said, taking the small carved green wind-horse on its slender cord from round his neck. He drew her nearer and placed it over her head. ‘For luck,’ he said, as she frowned at him, protesting, and made as if to give it back. His hand closed over hers which grasped the tiny charm, and pushed it gently down against her. His fingers freed the cord from her hand, the green horse falling against her heart. ‘When the battle is done, return it to me then, if you wish.’

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Rhûnnaro approached, his sword in hand. ‘Fionel, hurry! Take your position out of sight with the others.’ He bent down and looked closely at the young man. His eyes were a little glassy, the pupils large. His skin pale, with a thin sheen of fevered sweat. ‘Can you stand?’ he asked, putting his hand on Tenzin’s shoulder. The young man shook his head yes, letting the older man stand and pull him to his feet.

Tenzin flexed his fingers and raised his right arm gently to take the bow Rhûhnnaro had brought him. The older man secured the quiver of arrows in easy access of Tenzin’s left hand, then walked with him to the small rocky rise where the young man would take up his position.

Slipping quietly beneath the trees, Rhûnnaro stood still among the shadows, waiting . . .