[Elora]

Benia, Gilly and Silvanis all awaited her. Vanwe was awash in uncertainty which simmered beneath her expression. Healing, or Elvish hell-spawned sorcery as the villagers chose to call it, was not something she had openly admitted to. Yet they all turned expectant faces to her as though they knew she could. The villagers had known too. They had tried to erase it, but they could no more erase her race than they could the gifts she had inherited. The same abilities that her mother had honed to a sharp and wicked edge with which to wreak such evil and pain, Vanwe possessed in her own way.

She was no Elven healer. She had never been taught and had not dared flaunt or explore her abilities. They had enough reasons to torment her without adding that fuel to the fire. Benia, Silvanis and Gilly willed her on. Vanwe took a breath to steel herself and stepped forward to gingerly remove the cloth that Aranti had boldly slapped into place.

Benia's pain ebbed in waves that Vanwe could sense. She examined the cloth, and unsure what exactly had been poured onto it or why, set it aside for the moment. Vanwe trusted her hands more than a stranger. Gently, her fingers moved over Benia's ankle to which Vanwe bent towards as she sensed out what lay beneath the swollen skin.

Both from what her fingers were able to learn and from what she sensed of Benia's pain, Vanwe was able to piece together a clearer picture of the injury.

"It is not as I had thought," she murmured softly, lost in what was at hand. In a louder voice, Vanwe added "It is not a break... a fracture perhaps..."

Her fingers explored a little further.

"I have seen this before... The bone does not scream of a break, but something is wrong nonetheless. Benia is fortunate that the fracture has not been worsened by the recent sudden movement."

An expression of utter disapproval so strong as to flash in her blue eyes crossed Vanwe's face before it relapsed into it's earlier expression of utter serene focus. The jolt of the movement to inspect and then place that cloth over it could have made a fracture a break.

Benia all this while did a remarkable feat of attempting to master the pain that was rolling through her, pushing Vanwe onwards.

"But first your ankle must be prepared, my Lady." Vanwe knelt on the floor and again gently wrapped her hands around Benia's ankle. The shock was all but gone, as was the attendant numbness. She resumed sensing out the wrongness and sought a memory within bone, muscle, tissue for how it should be. Living things remembered. Benia's pain rolled and swayed in the room around them, heat suffused Vanwe. Still her fingers gently moved.

Vanwe absorbed herself in the healing. She had no words to describe how she did what she did. Maybe it was foul sorcery. Vanwe did not know. It was simply making the ankle right again, as the bone and muscles remembered it to be.

How much time passed Vanwe could not tell. When the heat that had built beneath her skin, particularly in her hands, started to fade, she set Benia's ankle gently down once more. Vanwe blinked, drew a breath and sensed that the pain that radiated from Benia was different now. It was not wrong. It too would fade, particularly with the herbs and strapping to aid it.

Vanwe looked up to Benia and nodded.

"Your ankle will mend well, my lady," she said with a sense of gravity which was in odd contrast to the sense of lightness that spun in Vanwe's head. It had been some time since she last healed, and it was something she had not been able to openly learn and explore in the village. Healing in such a way was another suspicion to sit over her head, and the ability was something Vanwe well hid behind more accepted means of treatment. Better a poultice than the corruption of Elvish sorcery.

All Vanwe could hope was that Benia did not carry with her the superstitions of the village, or did not care so long as her ankle was healed. But, if she did object, then Benia was even more of a danger. Vanwe sat still, waiting for the lightheaded sensation to pass, studying Benia. Was she foe? Was she in league with mercenaries?

Vanwe's gaze dropped to Benia's hands as her mind lurched sickeningly. She noted the intricate and beautiful tattoos that traced over Benia's skin. Her own were unadorned. No village advertised or claimed her. Vanwe did not know whether she had revealed herself further to a friend or foe, but could not and would not undo what was done. There was too little kindness in the world she well knew, and if she was to return to that hell at least she knew she could do more with her hands than labour or carve.

Conscious that Gilly and Silvanis watched on, Vanwe found her voice.

"I have seen this at ho-, before," Vanwe stumbled over her correction. "We will need to strap Benia's ankle and keep weight off it until the bone can strengthen. Some herbs will help with the pain as the bone and muscles settle more firmly into place. There are many infusions and teas that can be easily made."

Vanwe had not forgotten who had entered the inn, nor the possible danger of Benia, nor the rashness of her recent act. Yet it was done. Vanwe's decision, though likely not the wisest one for continued freedom, was made. Vanwe listed a range of possible herbs, known for their wholesome properties, as she discussed the matter with Silvanis and Gilly.

Silvanis had his own store, Vanwe herself had observed some yesterday in her afternoon spent exploring the surrounds of the inn. Gilly proved quite knowledgeable also.

"I have no thyme," Vanwe lamented. She had used the last of that precious herb months ago and it did not grow in the wetter and cooler north. "We also need something firm to strap Benia's ankle with. My dress is too dusty, but I know there is a store of clean cloths behind the bar that would well suit this purpose."

The idea of venturing out to where the unusual newcomer awaited so that she could wave her presence under his nose was not one Vanwe particularly wished to entertain. Already her ingrained preference for wariness was screaming a loud and much ignored protest. Vanwe nourished the hope that Silvanis or Gilly would perhaps go in search of the herbs and cloth.

Vanwe slowly stood, Benia wriggling toes a little more strongly now. It was a good sign, encouraging. Vanwe smiled a little to see it, pleased with that small thing, and looked to Silvanis and Gilly. Belatedly remembering her place, Vanwe stepped back and bowed.

"My honour to serve, my Lady," she murmured as she did so. As her gaze swept upwards again, Kaldir who sat in observation leapt into sight once more. Vanwe was robbed of breath and dragged her gaze away, back to Benia's wriggling toes whilst conversation around her discussed Cook's teas to chase away pain, words ringing in Vanwe's ears and heart pounding like a galloping horse in her chest.

It was not Kaldir's close observation, air of latent threat nor even his clothing that so terrified Vanwe. It was the expression on the man's face, an expression she had seen too many times before, that chased any warmth from Vanwe's now chilled body. Whilst discussion wound on, she shivered faintly.