[Nerindel]

Léspheria

In the gentle glow of the softly lit room, Léspheria arranged the herbs that might be need to aid in the Ranger comfort and recovery, to her left a young apprentice healer appeared with a basin of salty water in his hands and a fresh towel draped over his arm. She washed her hand thoroughly in the solution and once dried she replaced the towel over his arm, holding him gently in place that he did not leave at once.

“Please bring warm towels and dry clothes for the lady,” she whispered in the young elf’s Silvan tongue, indicating with a slight incline of her head the southern woman who sat shivering against the wall by the door. She let go of his arm and smiled appreciatively as the elf nodded and went at once to see to her request.

Turning back to her patient, she saw that the two resident healers of the halls had already begun to remove the ranger’s blood soaked clothing. As she joined them their faces looked grim, “There is a lot of blood,” one whispered to her as she carefully removed the blood soaked bindings, but she said nothing and concentrated on the task before her. The wound did not trouble her as much as the growing unrest in the young man’s mind. He was tethered on the edge of an emotional precipice torn between choosing life or death, the wound she could heal but if he gave up on life then their would be nothing she could do, she knew she would have to work fast before he made this choice.

As they cleaned the wound, she began to chant softly, hoping that the calming effect of the ancient spell would belay his unrest and dispel his despair. Her gaze strayed momentarily to the southern woman as she felt the emotions behind the rangers despair….Love! Unyielding and unbridled, but not just for the woman who had brought him to the house, another kind of love played a part in this ranger’s precarious state of mind, one of friendship and fierce loyalty and the two threatened topple him over the edge.

He would willingly choose death rather that hurt either one! She suddenly realised as she examined his wound. It was deep but not beyond her skills to heal, however there was clear signs of infection, likely from the freezing waters of the Bruinen, but to her relief the bleeding had stopped, stanched by his companion’s quick thinking and tight bindings. With her realisation of the rangers mind her need for urgency increased, she would require help, but no other healer remained in Imladris who had the skills she would require to help her save this young man‘s life… except one!

Looking up she spoke hastily in silvan to the nearest healer “I need you to bring me the young elven woman, Vanwe she has same skill in the healing arts as I do. I will need her help if I am to save his life!” The healer nodded his understanding and she quickly informed him where the elf woman could be found. She did not wait to see his hasty departure, but turned to the second healer and instructed her to prepare a simple poultice that would fight the infection and dissolve harmlessly once the wound was closed. By this time the young Apprentice had returned and was offering Benia warm towels and dry clothing, but feeling her gaze upon him he turn, then with her eyes and a slight incline of her head she let the young elf know that his assistance was needed. He quickly turned to the woman letting her know that he was needed then quietly slipped up beside her and waited for her instructions.

“Do you know how to make herbal infusions?” she asked the apprentice, wiping a cooling cloth across the rangers sweat drenched brow.

“Yes my lady, I have been instructed in that skill.” the young elf answered at once, as he turned to lift a fresh basin of cooled water and bring it to her.

“Good, then I need you to make a simple infusion of Syzyium aromaticum and Matricaria Chamomilla.,” she instructed him, as she again dipped the cloth into the cooled water.

“Cloves and chamomile?” the apprentice frowned confused, “Yes! Like I said simple, but very effective,” but seeing that the young elf still did not understand she continued to explain briefly. The cloves will fight the infection and relieve his pain and discomfort, while the Chamomile will soothe his nerves and hopefully break his fever.” The apprentice’s cheeks flushed with apparent embarrassment, as she remained him of the healing properties of each ingredient. “At once my lady,” he hurriedly replied, backing away to do her bidding.

“Stay with us my young friend she whispered,” as she placed the damp cloth on the rangers forehead.

She then turned to the table and opened the draw on it’s under side, wherein she found a sharp needle and some horse gut which she would need to close the rangers gapping wound. She carefully threaded the fine thread through the eye of the needle then held its tip carefully over the orangey flame of a nearby candle. As she did this, the female elven healer returned and applied the freshly prepared poultice to the wound, and then knowing what was to come next, she leaned across the ranger’s chest holding his arms tight, in a restraining manner.

Taking a deep breath she removed the red-hot needle from the flame and gentle holding the wound closed she punctured the needle through the living flesh to make the first stitch. As expected the ranger regained consciousness and screamed out in pain, but she pressed on ignoring his cries, not even noticing the return of the first heal as he hurried to help his colleague restrain the struggling ranger. Only when she saw Vanwe’s familiar hands helping her to hold the wound close did she look up, nodding appreciatively then returning to finish of the stitches.

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Vanwe

Vanwe stood with her father looking out over the tranquil gardens of Imladris, his words wore heavy on her heart, but they revealed to her the truth of what she had so verdantly tried to hide from herself. Naiore could never be the mother she longed for her to be and giving into that delusion would only bring harm to those whom she would hold dear, she could see that now. But neither could she find it in her heart to hate the mother who had abandoned her and sought to destroy those who had once held her dear. Turning her head she regarded the worn features of her father, lines carved through years of pain and torment marked the fairness of his long face, and his eyes held an agony that he had for so long suffered alone. Vanwe’s hand hesitantly reached out finding that of her fathers, her instinctual precedence to heal his hurts giving dominance over her doubts and fears. She knew in her heart that she could never completely remove his pain and she would not try. But perhaps she could share his burden or at least distract from its pain, wrapping her hand about his and leaning her golden head on his shoulder she whispered,

“No longer are we alone father!”

He did not speak and she did not need him too, contented for the moment that he had not pulled away as she feared he might. As she rested her head on, his shoulder and looked out again over the gardens of her kin a strange but pleasing calmness filled her, easing for that moment the troubles of her heart. They had found each other and for that, at least she had her mother to thank.

A loud sharp knock broke through the serenity of the moment causing her to start, quickly regaining her composure she turned towards the door, “enter!” her father called letting go of her hand and starting towards the door. A tall dark haired elf, robed in earthen tones hastily entered the room, on seeing Menecin the elf paused; he had obviously not expecting to find the bard.

“My apologies, my Lord” he quickly recovered, bending respectfully. “I look for Miss Vanwe, Lady Léspheria informed me that she could be found here.”

Vanwe cautiously stepped out from behind her father, “I am she,” she answered wondering what this elf could want of her, experience had taught her to be wary for often people wanted what she could not give. As if sensing her in trepidation her father addressed the elf.

“And for what reason would a healer of Imladris seek my daughter!” The elf started slightly at the accusation in the bard’s eyes, but remembering his need for haste he turned to Vanwe and continued.

“The Lady Léspheria seeks your help, a ranger lies in our halls mortally wounded and she asks if you will come.”

Surprised Vanwe looked between her father and the healer, “I..I don’t know how I can help,” she answered unsure of herself and her abilities.

“Are you not a healer?” the elf asked confused.

Vanwe regretfully shook her head “No, I am no healer, I have on occasion healed minor injuries, mostly on myself and on small animals, but nothing to the extent of which you speak. I do not know how my limited ability can be of any help.”

The healer smiled warmly, “Any ability is a help my lady. If the Lady Léspheria believes you can help then it must be so, for not readily is she wrong in such matters , will you come.” He pressed motioning towards the open door. Still unsure of what help she could provide she nodded and followed him out of the room, pausing only briefly to look over her shoulder at her father, it gave her a little comfort when he nodded indicating that he would follow.

Entering the hall of healing Vanwe paused allowing her eyes to adjust to the soft light, her eyes going wide at the surreal scene before her. On the bed lay a man, a ranger she had been told, but she did not know this one, his deathly pale skin glistened with feverish sweat, and even from the door, and she could sense the wrongness of his injury. Looking up from the ranger, she saw Léspheria, she held a needle in the flame of a candle her gentle face lined with care and concern. An elven woman then moved to restrain the injured man and she felt their guide brush past her as he too move to help restrain their patient, in an instant she knew what Léspheria intended to do, she still did not know how she could help but she did know that she had to try. Quickly she placed her hands around the wound gently pressing the two side of the deep wound together, nodding uncertainly as Lespheria smiled at her appreciatively.