[ElentariGreenleaf]

Imthôlion lowered his bow, though it had not been his shot that had killed the orc. He and Duinare had approached Erfalas from different directions, and both had taken aim as they saw the orc swing its blade at something. Duinare was quicker to release his arrow, but now they both ran to where Erfalas lay.

“You are lucky, my friend,” said Imthôlion, “that the fog is thinner here. We would not have seen you otherwise. Are you injured?”

Erfalas moved his leg, but winced as pain shot through his ankle. “It is my ankle.”

Imthôlion checked Erfalas’ ankle and found, thankfully, that it was not broken. “Your ankle is twisted,” Imthôlion sighed, knowing it was still bad news. Any leg injury would slow the group down until they got their horses. “I will make a potion to take away the pain and swelling. Duinare, can you boil some water please?” Imthôlion untied a small pouch from his belt and took some lemon grass from it. He crushed it between his fingers and was glad to see it was still fresh enough to serve its purpose. However, there was no chance that the Athelas was fresh enough. Imthôlion went to look for some and, against all odds in the thick fog, he found some not too far away from the others. He hastened back and added the two plants to the boiling water. Imthôlion used a twig to stir the mixture and wished it did not take so long for the potion to be ready – the surviving orcs who had run could return at any moment. After ten minutes of tense silence, Imthôlion poured some of the mixture into a bowl and gave it to Erfalas to drink, chuckling as he saw his friend’s reaction to the unpleasant taste. Taking some strips of cloth, which had been soaking in the healing mixture, Imthôlion tightly bound Erfalas’ ankle.

“Will you be able to walk?” Duinare asked Erfalas. “We must find the others.”

“Imthôlion’s potent mixture has eased the pain to near nothing. I will be able to walk, tough I shall need a staff to lean upon. Ah,” he said, picking up the branch Imthôlion had used as a weapon, “this will do nicely.”

“I must have kept hold off it while I used an orc’s sword,” said Imthôlion. “My sword is stuck fast in its scabbard. I shall have to clean it when we find the others. Come, let us away from this place. I do not have the energy left for another fight.”