[Elora]

"I will not be long," Vanwe said after Derufin. Already he was heading off. When he had lifted his hand, she had expected the rebuke for her negligence in her duties she deserved. Braced as she was for the punishment, it did not fall across her cheek. It surprised her a little, to say the least. Feeling somewhat off balance, Vanwe ventured back into the kitchen.

Cook noted her entrance with a surprised look of her own. Vanwe had all but ran from the kitchen like a scalded cat after her last encounter. Why the girl did not see that she was only trying to help her, she did not know.

"What is it, Vanwe," Cook inquired as gently as she could. The Elf seemed somewhat sensative to a word of stern advice. Buttercup was grumbling about washing up at the sink.

"Please, Mistress Cook, Derufin has asked me to fetch him some dessert," Vanwe said warily. Cook smiled in a fond manner at the mention of his name.

"Of course he did. He's partial to sweet things, is Derufin. It'll be my apple crisp he's after. He was eyeing that closely indeed." Vanwe nodded in confirmation. "He'll want some of the clotted cream too, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, he did say that," Vanwe replied as Cook moved to locate some plates.

"What about you," Cook said as she brought out two plates. Vanwe hesitated there, sensing possible trouble ahead if she was not careful. "Speak up Vanwe," Cook said as she brought the deep dish that was kept in the warmer out. She fixed Vanwe with a firm stare, daring her to say no. Vanwe was positively filled to the brim as it was.

"Yes, please Cook," she said. Mrs Bunce nodded in satisfaction at the correct answer.

"That's better," Cook said as she filled each plate with the crisp. It steamed and Vanwe smelt cinnamon that reminded her of the village. The apple crisp was placed back in the warmer near the stove and soon Cook had the clotted cream out from the coolroom, scolding Ruby who longingly gazed at it before passing it up to Cook.

"There now. Be careful with my plates, mind you," Cook instructed as she placed a linen over each, spoon within the plate and passed them to Vanwe.

"I shall be, Mistress Cook," Vanwe dutifully replied and with a firm grip on each lest it spring from her fingers, she weaved through the crowd and out the door of the inn.

In her careful custody, the apple crisp found Derufin sitting in his chair in the stables, a lamp nearby on a table to which she added the plates. He smiled at their arrival. As she had crossed the courtyard, full as she was and despite the reminder of the south, their scent had warmed her too.

Derufin had raised his injured ankle to rest on a low stool, his cane propped nearby within reach. Hands free of their precious cargo. Vanwe dropped by the raised ankle.

"You don't want yours to go cold," Derufin said as he realised she intended to get straight to business. Vanwe studied his ankle.

"I'm in no hurry for mine just yet. If it pleases you, I'll remove this boot before the swelling gets worse," Vanwe said to his ankle. Remembering his enthusiasm for the crisp, she smiled faintly and looked up at him. "You can start on yours if you like, Derufin."

He switched the cloth over one plate aside and claimed it. "You sure," he asked, spoon midair. Vanwe started working at his boot with gentle but firm fingers. Derudin sucked in a breath and held it tightly. "I guess you are," he said. She soon had the boot off and his ankle set back down. Derufin slowly let out his breath.

The strapping had been done well, she saw. It was tight, but the swelling would be placing considerable pressure on him. Now that she was focused, pain waved through her. It was astonishing that he'd been walking about, serving supper, even with a cane. Gathering her thoughts, Vanwe set her fingers every so lightly over the strappings and sank into what she sensed.

It was getting easier to do, with all the recent practise. The wrongness of muscle and sinew was palpable beneath the skin. Tendon and flesh was bruised. When she heard Derufin's seemingly distant voice say "Well, yes it does hurt... What are you doing," she realised she had been murmuring.

Opening eyes she didn't recall closing, she blinked in the lamp light and looked back up at Derufin. "It's hard to explain. I find what seems right and true and return the to how it should be." Much like how she sensed what was within timber, to be honest. "I think I can help relieve the swelling, and perhaps ease the injury within your ankle."

Derufin was happily engaged with his apple crisp, clotted cream and the sensation of relief that faintly came from his ankle. Vanwe withdrew back into her senses, and set about delivering on her promise. It was about listening to what she was able to detect. Where did the divergence lie between what should be and what was? Once she found that, it was a matter of bridging that chasm, and bringing it back into line.

She bent her head, leaning over the bandaged ankle, focusing all her abilities. This was easier than Benia's broken bone. There was not quite so much damage to knit. When she found the dischord impossible to detect, Vanwe sighed deeply and sank back. She opened her eyes and realised that she had been able to loosen bandages that had been taut so as to better sense through the skin with her fingers. She really should have asked before setting her hands directly upon his skin, and her cheeks flushed with the audacity.

She worked at re-strapping the ankle, the stable weaving a little around her as she did so. This was worse than how she had felt after Lespheria. She was tired. Deft fingers fastened the strapping and Derufin experimentally flexed his ankle with considerable caution.

"You should still keep weight off it, to allow the ankle to knit properly," Vanwe said. The swelling had abated and the joint seemed much more reliable than it had. Derufin had finished his apple crisp and Vanwe had no idea how long it had taken.

"So that is Elven healing," he said.
"I do not know. Proper healers are likely to be far more skilled than I am," Vanwe confessed. And less likely to feel as though the rug had been tugged out from underneath their feet. At least she was already on the floor, she conceeded to herself, and less likely to foolishly keel over. "It is what I have been doing lately. There have been some guests in need of healing," she confessed.

"Ah ha," Derufin replied. "Now, what about your apple crisp?" He motioned for her to stand, and she did so carefully. "There's a chair over there," he said. Vanwe gratefully dragged it closer and sank into it.

"I don't think I could eat it. I've eaten in one supper what I usually ate in a week, in plentiful times that is," she replied. Tired, she neglected to censor what she was saying. Her past was one thing she had not discussed with Derufin and one thing he had never quizzed her on.

"Well we can't send it back to Cook," he said pensively.
"I have an idea. Why don't you eat it? Limping is hungry work." Vanwe smiled and opened her eyes. She heard the hopeful note in his statement and her eyes shone with amusement. "I'll take the plates back to the kitchen tonight."

"That's a good idea," Derufin said. Vanwe sat back, relaxing into the chair for a moment. She rested her head on one hand, propped on the arm of her chair, watching the lamp flicker and the light play over his quarters. Likely she should leave him to his privacy, but she was simply too tired to get up at that moment. Perhaps, she thought, if she carved the next one right it would catch the light and flicker as the lamp did, she thought.

"You really must have had your fill to forego Cook's apple crisp," Derufin said. Her gaze swung back to his, languourously almost. "Perhaps tomorrow," she replied.

"There'll be none left by then," Derufin predicted. Vanwe smiled again, slowed by the lethargy that pulsed through her. Belatedly, she recalled what he had said to her in the Inn. Her eyes widened and she managed to get back out of the chair and crouched by Derufin's other ankle.

"What, you've not had enough of my ankles," Derufin said with some merriment.
"You mentioned your other ankle," Vanwe murmured languidly. One more ankle to heal...

She felt something brush her shoulder and glanced up into his face. He smiled gently at her.

"I was joking, little bird." Vanwe undid her fingers from around where they'd laced on his other ankle.

"Oh," she said simply. He winked again, and her smile returned. Perhaps it was her fatigue that had her abandon her usual reserve and caution. More likely it was Derufin's warm smile. Whatever the reason, Vanwe reached for the spoon in the second plate and helped herself to some of the apple crisp and clotted cream.

"That is good," she said after she had swallowed and returned the stolen spoon to the plate. The light flickered as she lightly laughed at her own boldness, merriment in her face, and returned to Derufin an impish wink from where she sat by his ankle.