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Envinyatar · 10-16-2005, 11:28 AM

It was Orëmir who’d reached out to speak mind to mind with Lindir. The wounded Elf seemed to be coming back to himself and Orëmir wished only to strengthen his spirit with some words of encouragement. But . . . how odd! Where once his mind could find no point of contact, now Lindir seemed to have gathered his resolve about him and with a surprising strength, he’d barred the healer’s way.

Well, then, perhaps that was good. Lindir had always been a taciturn fellow. This little expedition had brought more comment from him than Orëmir recalled him offering in their younger days. Mayhap, he had rallied, here in this place, where the warriors had given their support to one another and was pulling himself together, body and spirit.

Malris was calling on the spirits of those Elves who yet lingered in this place to assist their fallen comrade. Orëmir was unsure of this approach. His healer’s senses balked at it. For him it would be as if using an untried medicine on a very ill patient. The thought of it made him uneasy. How could they really know the intent of those who’d lingered here long after their bodies had decayed into dust. Weren’t there old tales of the houseless ones, hungry to have a body once more? He sifted through the stories he’d heard, the few scrolls he’d read on this. There were no particulars that stood out in his memory, save that such fëar were more than likely, the longer they had stayed off the Straight Road, to be of a malevolent nature.

Orëmir crouched down beside Lindir and putting his arm beneath his shoulders, brought him up to a sitting position. The injured Elf seemed steady enough now, though his face had still a grayish hue. Orëmir’s hand reached into his breeches pocket for the twist of paper he’d put there. It was a mild concoction, one to ease pain and give a restful sleep. ‘Here,’ he said, taking the flask of water and pouring a little into a mug his brother had brought to him. ‘Take a sip of this, Lindir,’ he went on, stirring the powdery contents of the paper into the liquid. ‘It will ease your pain.’ Orëmir wrapped Lindir’s left hand about the cup, urging him to drink.

10-16-2005, 11:28 AM	#129
Envinyatar Quill Revenant Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: Wandering through the Downs..... Posts: 849	It was Orëmir who’d reached out to speak mind to mind with Lindir. The wounded Elf seemed to be coming back to himself and Orëmir wished only to strengthen his spirit with some words of encouragement. But . . . how odd! Where once his mind could find no point of contact, now Lindir seemed to have gathered his resolve about him and with a surprising strength, he’d barred the healer’s way. Well, then, perhaps that was good. Lindir had always been a taciturn fellow. This little expedition had brought more comment from him than Orëmir recalled him offering in their younger days. Mayhap, he had rallied, here in this place, where the warriors had given their support to one another and was pulling himself together, body and spirit. Malris was calling on the spirits of those Elves who yet lingered in this place to assist their fallen comrade. Orëmir was unsure of this approach. His healer’s senses balked at it. For him it would be as if using an untried medicine on a very ill patient. The thought of it made him uneasy. How could they really know the intent of those who’d lingered here long after their bodies had decayed into dust. Weren’t there old tales of the houseless ones, hungry to have a body once more? He sifted through the stories he’d heard, the few scrolls he’d read on this. There were no particulars that stood out in his memory, save that such fëar were more than likely, the longer they had stayed off the Straight Road, to be of a malevolent nature. Orëmir crouched down beside Lindir and putting his arm beneath his shoulders, brought him up to a sitting position. The injured Elf seemed steady enough now, though his face had still a grayish hue. Orëmir’s hand reached into his breeches pocket for the twist of paper he’d put there. It was a mild concoction, one to ease pain and give a restful sleep. ‘Here,’ he said, taking the flask of water and pouring a little into a mug his brother had brought to him. ‘Take a sip of this, Lindir,’ he went on, stirring the powdery contents of the paper into the liquid. ‘It will ease your pain.’ Orëmir wrapped Lindir’s left hand about the cup, urging him to drink.