[Fairleaf]

Fairleaf & Lithmîrë

What’s this? she said waking from a light slumber.

She felt the weight of him as he leaned back against her. Lightly at first and then the full burden as he twitched his back, settling in firmly against her. She could feel him ease himself into her ridges and hollows, settling into the angle of her roots and trunk.

The day’s breeze ruffled through her leaves, rustling them one against the other. She could hear him sigh and relax further, until she bore the full burden of him. His breathing slowed, deepened. He was asleep.

She shifted a little, trying to see his face. Some soft tunnel of light was channeled down on him as she moved her branches. It touched gently on the right side of his face picking out his features. One of the Quendi! Elf-child.

So tired he looked. Beneath his eyelid ran dreams . . . and not pleasant by the soft moans and grimaces as pain or the memory of it passed through him.

Reaching down a leafy branch she could smell the sweet liquid he’d drunk earlier. Faint ginger and licorice were there; chamomile with calendula; wort and vervain in heavier doses for pain and a disquiet spirit. Wood betony and lemon balm to wrap it in a light sweetness. She was wondering why he would be drinking such a mixture.

A leaf strayed close to his cheek, grazing it. A sharp intake of breath, his lids fluttering against the intrusion. She feared he would wake. But he settled back into his sleep, turning as he did so to find another position of comfort. Fairleaf gasped aloud as the light revealed the other side of his face.

Fire!

Old memories of her friends and companions burned and gone when the Deceiver had come to the land of their fair gardens near the great river.

Who has done this to you, little one?