[Ealasaide]

Benia

Wiping the lone tear from the corner of her eye, Benia watched attentively as Lady Léspheria washed her hands in a basin brought by one of the other elves and prepared to begin the treatment of Dúlrain's wounds. She scarcely noticed as the elf who had brought the basin slipped from the room, listening instead to Léspheria's soft chanting, frustrated that when they spoke amongst themselves, the healers spoke in their own Sylvan language, which lay beyond Benia's understanding. Even so, she found herself inching away from the wall and closer to where the healers worked, unwilling to leave Dúlrain entirely in their hands, regardless how wonderfully capable those hands might be.

"My lady," said a voice softly in the common tongue.

Benia turned and saw that the young Elven apprentice who had earlier left the room had returned bearing an armful of towels and dry clothing.

"Lady Léspheria thought you might be in need of something warm and dry to wear," he continued, offering her an Elven-made dress of deep green silk and several thick towels. "The towels have been heated by the fire."

Benia took them gratefully and bowed her head in thanks. "You are too kind," she murmured. "Please thank Lady Léspheria for her generosity as well."

The Elven apprentice nodded, but before he could reply was called away by Léspheria. Swiftly, he made his excuses to Benia and slipped into his place beside the lady at Dúlrain's bedside. Hugging the warm towels to her bodice, Benia watched as one of the assistant healers leaned across Dúlrain's chest to restrain his arms, while Léspheria heated a needle in the flame of a candle. Then, Léspheria bent forward and, using the red hot needle, began to sew. At the ranger's first cry of pain, Benia felt her body tense. She tried to steel herself against it and let the healers do their work, but as his cries continued, his body straining against the restricting hold of the assistant healer, she found she could not remain unaffected. When a second assistant joined the first in holding Dúlrain down, Benia could no longer bear it.

She put aside the bundle of towels and clothing and rose swiftly to her feet.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Please stop."

Léspheria paused and looked up, her fair face etched with concern. "What is it?" Beside her, another elf who had joined Léspheria only a moment earlier hesitated as well. Benia was surprised to recognize Vanwe.

"You're hurting him." Benia said softly, her amber eyes meeting Léspheria's gray ones with a steady gaze.

"I'm sorry," answered Léspheria gently. "But it can't be helped. The wound must be closed."

"Yes." Benia nodded. "But not like this." She reached out and took hold of one of the assistant healers' hands. "Let go of him."

Clearly doubtful of Benia's intentions, the assistant hesitated and looked warily toward Léspheria for instructions. Léspheria nodded, first to one assistant then the other. Both of them released their hold of the ranger and stepped back. Vanwe and Léspheria remained in place, Vanwe's long, dextrous fingers still holding the gaping wound closed as Léspheria waited, the needle poised in midair.

Moving past them all to the head of the bed, Benia smoothed Dúlrain's black hair back from his face. His breath was still coming swift and shallow from the pain, but at least he had grown still. Casting a reproachful glance at the two assistants, Benia bent down and pressed her cheek against the side of Dúlrain's face, her lips nearly brushing his ear. His skin burned.

"Can you hear me?" she whispered, laying one of her tattooed hands against the far side of his face. She reached out with her other hand to find his hand where it rested on his chest.

He nodded weakly, but at the touch of her fingers on his, closed his hand around hers in a grip so tight that her eyes watered.

Careful not to wince, Benia closed her eyes, continuing to stroke the side of his face gently with the fingertips of her other hand. "That's good," she continued, barely loudly enough to be heard by Vanwe and Léspheria. "I'm going to tell you a story now, but first - " she paused to kiss the side of his face just above his ear. "But first we must take care of the pain."

When he nodded again, Benia went on. "We mustn't fight against the pain. That only gives it power. What we are going to do is accept it and let it go. Are you ready?" She waited for him to nod once more, then opened her eyes, giving Léspheria a significant glance. Understanding, Léspheria nodded as well and communicated with a look to Vanwe that they would continue to wait. Lowering her eyelashes once more, Benia turned her attention back to Dúlrain.

"You and I are all alone," she said in a soft and soothing tone. "We stand on the edge of the Great Sand, near a well that was once used by my people but that is now running dry. On our hands, we wear heavy gloves, like falconer's mitts. We are going to collect the pain now, every jagged shard. As you draw it up and release it from your body, we gather the pieces together until they form a ball that sparkles in the sunlight like an orb of broken glass. Outside of you. Can you see it?"

"Yes," breathed Dúlrain, his eyes still closed.

"We take the pain and we place it on the goatskins that we have laid out on the sand between us. We wrap the skins around the pain in many, many layers until the jagged edges can no longer be seen and we bind it up in cords of the softest silk. And, taking the bundle, we lower it into the cool darkness of the well. The pain is moving away from you now."

"Yes..."

"There is a slab of granite, lying in the sand nearby. You pick it up and place it over the mouth of the well. Together, we take a piece of white chalk and, with your hand over mine, we mark the granite with a rune that will keep the pain trapped in the well. It cannot follow you."

"Cannot follow..."

"We smile at each other and walk toward our horses." Benia opened her eyes again and gave Léspheria the slightest nod. Responding in kind, Léspheria prepared the needle to continue its work. "We've been riding all day," Benia whispered to Dúlrain. "Deep into the grasslands, leaving the Great Sand behind us. The pain is very far way now."

Dúlrain gasped sharply as Léspheria's needle pierced his flesh again. His body tensed, but he did not cry out.

"The pain is very far away," repeated Benia. The ranger relaxed slightly. The side of his face continued to press tightly against hers, but he no longer struggled against the ministrations of the healers. Benia felt a tentative relief as somehow, between the growing affects of Léspheria's herbs and the hypnotic flow of her own voice, his discomfort waned. She continued with her story.

"It is nearing sunset and the sun's rays paint our faces orange. The mountains ahead of us glow with a soft rose pink. There is a spring ahead in the line of trees that separates us from the mountains. Smelling the water, our horses whicker and dance..."