[maikafanawen]

When Ani Dao awoke, recovered from the sudden explosion of emotions it was very dark outside and the waxing moon hung above her like half a picture frame. She got up and hurried back to the campsite. Many had returned and were helping tend to Burzdol, who hadn’t moved or regained consciousness. A new wave of grief overtook the she-elf, but she fought it down stubbornly.

“He should be fine, Ani Dao,” said Bali standing up as he saw her approaching. The elf nodded and tried to smile, but couldn’t. She walked over to Burzdol and stood beside the healer who was applying kingsfoil to his gash. The elf’s breathing was harsh and small beads of sweat were settled on his face. The healer stood up and stretched, handing Ani Dao a bowl of cool water and a rag.

“Look after him while I sleep a bit, will you?” Ani Dao nodded and took the bowl, not taking her eyes off of her friend. Shaking her head suddenly and taking a deep breath she knelt down beside him and began to dab his heated face lightly but efficiently with the soaked rag. What a help I’ve been!, she thought as she brushed a strand of hair off of Burzdol’s forehead, Running away and crying like a baby when I could have been of some use. Setting the bowl aside she wrapped a cloak around her shoulders and held his hand. The fire cracked and the stag Dain had brought back was cooking nicely.

A cool wind blew across the plains and through the campsite. The orcs had been dragged to the other side of the hill, and the horses were tied up near by. Closing her eyes, Ani Dao let the breeze calm her spirits. Before long she was peaceful, and she sang softly so that only Burzdol could hear, had he been awake:

An Elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-grey.

A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lorien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,
In sunlight or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey
Beneath the mountain-lee
Awaited her for many a day
Beside the roaring sea …

Ani Dao’s voice trailed on the song of Nimrodel until her heart was at rest. When she sang as much as she knew she looked down at the elf. Burzdol’s breathing was becoming slowly steadier and his face was smooth and calm. She smiled and felt his forehead. It was still warm, and moist with sweat. Ani Dao rewet the rag and laid it across his head. The she-elf sat beside him, until the healer awoke.

[ March 10, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]