The Lingering Darkness Fan-fiction

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Menecin

It was so quiet there, the room open and airy, in sharp contrast to his crowding thoughts. The sun rays that slanted through the trees giving dappled illumination to a vast garden that flowed below the balcony and down toward the river, in imitation of the peaceful tranquility of Illuvatar’s thought before the existence of Arda, a harmony now only to be gained though years care. Wild but trained, the view looked as though the verdant grounds might have happened there by chance. But Menecin had seen that it took great skill to achieve this balance, the appearance of a natural state that should have come artlessly, and had been more readily near the mark in earlier ages. And it took work to tame the abundance that would threaten it, so unlike the wild fragrant beauty of Ithilien to the south.

It had been many years since he had last been in those lands that rested between the Anduin and the Mountains of shadow, when his long searching had ended there, and he lay broken upon the red stained rocks and wildflowers that drew their life from a deep cloven torrent below Henneth Annûn. The flame of his hope snuffed out as his life drained away, like a candle that guttered, leaving his mind as shattered as if she had crushed the bright mirror of it under her slender boot, when she turned and left him for dead. Menecin clenched his fists, as the familiar sickening storm rose in his heart once more, and causd him to desire violent action, to lash out and through his rage dispel the intensity of these disjointed memories.

“What was she like?…I mean she wasn’t always the way she is now, was she?” Came a voice soft and hesitant, as if the breeze itself whispered to him. Menecin clutched the balustrade firmly as he struggled to quell his fury and piece together an answer to the simple question. But he could not. He had thought at one time that he had known the answer, but it would not now be reconciled to his experience and what he had been told.

He studied the young elf that stood beside him in the doorway. So striking she was, and echoing her mother’s grace. Like a young sapling grown in the shadows hints of its future strength and beauty. What could he tell her? He did not wish to damage her, nor yet to encourage a destructive curiosity.

Her mother had been a spring breeze to him, dancing through the tall pines and upon the sandy shore of Belfalas, cool and clear and inspiring. It was then he had first come to be fascinated by this elegant and uncommon one, who clothed in choicest raiment, sought not the trappings of court, but to know of the deeper themes of life. And uncovered them with keen intuition and insight, as if her eye had been trained to discern between the fine underpinnings of life and the result those forces brought to bear upon those around her. Then she had delighted him with her continual discoveries and revelations.

“What was she like, you ask daughter?” he said turning once again to the trees. “She at one time was like the ocean, the surface of its great depths sparkling brightly in the sun. Deceptively calm and peaceful she was, and beautiful. But like the sea, she harbored hidden and treacherous currents that would drag a man under so that he might be carried away, to despair of ever breathing again.

“No Vanwe, I do not think she was always the way she is now. In early days, when she still explored the extend of her gift; she had not yet begun to dedicate it to the evil pursuit she now follows. Something changed in her path. At first I thought it Sauron who held her thrall to his purpose, as Morgoth his master had enthralled so many before him, and so I fought to discover your mother’s whereabouts to release his hold on her. But found only that she was not as I thought, and she would now have her plunder, violating even those who held her dear. Killing them also if it suited her ends. So it happened to Léspheria’s mother your kinswoman, and so I fear it will be also for you if you return to her. She knows the effect of her searchings. And I deem she views this ruthlessness as a sign of strength. I will not hold you here by force,” he said letting go of the balustrade to face her again. “But I pray thee, do not go back. It is a warning I give from experience, and the one thing I am sure of in this constant night.”

“Then there is no hope of a change? That she might become again as when you spoke of the early days?” Vanwe asked looking hopefully up into her father’s face.

Recognizing this delusion, Menecin overcame his own deep impulse and recited that with which he ever reminded himself, that which he knew to be the truth. “No, some great flaw is in her heart from the time her making to achieve this disposition, and to think otherwise is grave mistake.”

And so they stood silent for a time glancing out over the balcony to the healing garden below, and did not speak of the travelers and fighters who could be seen in the distance slowly returning to Imladris after defending her from the one of whom they spoke..

[Nerindel]

Amandur

Amandur and Finmar had just reached the house when the sound of laughter made them turn. a short distance from the house he could see the ex-ranger Kaldir holding conversation with a hobbit woman who he could only surmise must be Mrs Banks, pleased too was he to see Rauthain not to far behind, Toby also was still in their company, but with them was another, a young man he was not familiar with. Seeing his contemplative frown, Finmar asked if something was wrong.

“I am not sure,” he answered absently, studying the stranger’s movements. The depth of his stride and the lack of bounce in his light but sure steps, it reminded him of one of the sets of tracks he had been observing over the last several weeks. However, without seeing the tread of the man’s boot he could not confirm or deny his suspicions. Two men he knew had been in Naiore’s company and it seemed too coincidental that this young man should appear at the same time as Naiore attacks Imladris.

“Was the young man in Kaldir’s company when you met?” he asked the elf captain, still watching as Kaldir and Mrs banks seemed to wait for the others to catch up.

“No, nor was the other ranger, only the two periannath.” Rinmar answered following his gaze.

“The ranger I know, his name is Rauthain and he travels with my company, the young man though I am not familiar with, though I have an idea who he might be,” he informed his companion, his eyes narrowing into a distrustful scowl.

“Will guards be needed?” the elf frowned making to reach for the fine elven blade at his hip.

“No, my friend, at least not till I can be certain that my suspicions are founded.” Amandur answered placing his hand atop the elf’s preventing him from drawing his blade.

“I will have to inform my Lords about this stranger, am I to say he is in your charge?” Rinmar asked turned to face Amandur to be sure the ranger understood that all responsibility would be his, but Amandur did not turn, he simply nodded his understanding and began to walking toward the company approaching the house. Rinmar shook his head, then turned and entered the house to deliver his report.

“Hail, friends!” Amandur greeted as he approached, Kaldir gave a curt nod of his head in acknowledgement, Rauthain returned his greeting, Toby shifted uncomfortably as was to be expected, but the stranger remained indifferent.

“And just who might you be I wonder?” the hobbit woman asked eyeing him suspiciously.

“My apologies Mrs Banks, I forget that we have not been formally introduced, my name is Amandur, I also am one of the Kings Rangers and friend to Lady Lespheria, with whom I believe you are acquainted, she will be most please to hear that you are here safe and well, “he smiled.

“Miz Lespheria she is here!” the hobbit woman exclaimed. Amandur nodded, “Oh Mister Kaldir Miz Lespheria will be able to fix up Mister Dulrain, like she did miz Benia back at the inn!” said the hobbit woman with a little relief.

“The Healers of Rivendell will be able to fix us all up,” he laughed, indicating her own and Kaldir's injuries as well as his own.

As he spoke with the hobbit women the others passed them and mounted the stairs to the last house, as the stranger passed by he glanced down and sure enough, the tread left in the soft ground match those he had been following for several weeks. His distain showed as he looked up at the young mans back.

“Will you excuse me a moment Mrs Banks?” he hastily apologised and without waiting for her to answer he strode forwards towards the stranger, the image of Tallas’ cold body, the body he had to bury, again rose fresh in his mind. But before he reached the young man a firm hand gripped his right arm, and he looked up to see Rauthian. No words passed between them, he could see from the rangers eyes that he too knew or at least suspected that the young man had been in Naiore’s company and that he wanted to wait till the others where safely inside, before confronting him. Amandur nodded reluctantly and Rauthain released his grip, but he continued to keep a suspiciously close eye on the young man.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Gilly

Gilly could see now that she would indeed be in need of Kaldir’s help and protection if she were to find her way home again, as well as to provide some sort of convincing proof for her neighbors that she had indeed traveled to Rivendell, and not merely disappeared from Bree in order to play some cruel joke. And she had wanted to thank Kaldir for his kind offer, but then Mr. Kaldir could not go as far as Bywater, and what a shame that was. Not only because it meant she would have to do the convincing on her own, but because she had the notion to cook him a grand meal after all this was over, a fat roast with potatoes and mushroom gravy, maybe raspberries and cake and cream, to both thank him and try to tempt him a bit with the more domestic life she thought he needed. Perhaps if he were to have a steady, kindly home, even if it was not his own, he would not feel the need to go around toting folks away from theirs, scaring them half to death with his rope and his scowling.

But as she picked through these thoughts of hers, trying to find an appropriate way to say “Yes please that would be very nice of you, and thank you very much. And would you mind kindly repeating to my dear husband what you just said then about it being your actions what’s landed me here?” when she heard a long slow metallic scrape ending in a tang that made the hair of her neck stand on end.

Looking back, the young man who accompanied Rauthain, approached them with sword drawn and frowning. For a moment Gilly thought that he meant them harm, but seeing her surprise the man quickly nodded at her. “Not to worry Ma’am, my mother always told me that I should have a steady hand waiting a surprise attack - from my brothers, I mean - They were older than I and very rough….”

“I think I could learn summat from your mother then!” the hobbit said clutching the yoke of her dress in alarm and wondering what manner of man this might be. “Dear me, you’ve given me a fright! I can only hope my own boys never warrant such a warning. And if they did I surely would never give them a sword such as you carry or there’d be naught but hams and briskets all the way to Hobbiton!” She turned to Kaldir for reassurance, but found he had grown serious again and she wondered what he was thinking as he studied the other man’s face.

Reaching out, Rauthain put his rough hand on the man’s back. “Avanill, though it is wise to be alert to the danger that surrounds us, I do not think the elves of this place will respond well to guests entering the heart of their land with drawn swords. It is a place of knowledge as well as healing. See there?” The grey ranger squinting, pointed further along their path toward where it opened upon a green sward that was divided by a swift stream. “This is Karningul and just over that narrow bridge is the house we seek. You may just barely make out the steps of it from here. ”

Gilly quickly returned her sword to its place at her side. “Mr. Avanill, is it? If you don’t mind my saying so, it looks as though you could do with a bit of healing yourself. I’m sure that should any of your brothers find you here, we all would help protect you,” she reassured him. “Will you put away your sword?.”

“Yes,” Rauthain agreed. “If those who would do us mischief where to overtake us, be sure will all fight along side you!”

Avanill slowly slid his sword back in its scabbard, looking not so much at those around him, but seeing another who fast approached looking as though he too had fought hard in battle, for his hair was damp from sweat and he held one arm close upon his belt as he walked. “Hail friends!” this man said soberly as he quickly advanced. Gilly looked from face to face to see who it was he addressed, and curiously only Rauthain gave voice in reply, Kaldir merely nodding. Toby who had looked relieved to see Avanill’s blade sheathed, now looked uncomfortable again with this addition to their group. Not sure what this meant exactly, and what Toby might know of him, she eyed the man with suspicion. “And just who might you be I wonder?” she questioned him when he drew up.

The man apologized introducing himself as Amandur, a ranger and friend of the elf Léspheria who had seemed so kindly disposed toward Miss Benia and herself, when Kaldir had appeared threatening at the Forsaken Inn. “She will be most pleased to hear that you are safe and well,” he said smiling. Surprised as the hobbit was, to find he knew her name, she was overjoyed to find that the Lady Léspheria was here also! Such a comfort she had been helping Miss Benia’s ankle so, and hopefully she too was well, for when Gilly had last seen her she had appeared quite distressed.

“Miss Léspheria, she is here!” the hobbit fairly shouted in her happiness and relief, “Oh Mr. Kaldir, Miss Léspheria will be able to fix up Mr. Dúlrain, like she helped Miss Benia back at the inn.”

“The Healers of Rivendell will be able to fix us all up,” Amandur laughed. True they were a sore sight and in need of rest, Gilly thought as she and Amandur watched the ragged band pass them by on their way to the bridge and the steps.

“Will you excuse me a moment Mrs. Banks?” the ranger said distractedly, moving off to follow the rest. Gilly saw him catch up to them quickly, and Rauthain draw up beside him. Remembering the words Avanill had spoken and not wishing to be left behind, the hobbit quickly hitched up her skirts and ran lightly over the soft green grass to the stone bridge and over, passing by her fellow travelers and waiting on the stone steps for them to catch up again, wondering where Miss Benia and Dúlrain might be now, and if her friend might might know already that Lady Léspheria was here also.

[Ealasaide]

Benia

As they arrived in front of the great house, Benia saw Lady Léspheria rush out to meet them, carrying a satchel of herbs with her. She felt the tension she carried in her shoulders relax slightly at the sight of the healer, but still Benia could not cease to be afraid for Dúlrain until she knew within her heart that he would recover. Dismounting, she watched as the elves of Dúlrain's escort delivered him into the Elven lady’s arms. Hurrying to Dúlrain’s side, Benia found one of the Ranger’s hands and folded it tightly between both of hers.

“What happened to him?” asked Léspheria. The elf’s gray eyes took in the ranger’s wet, blood-soaked clothing and the makeshift bindings that had been ripped from the hem of Benia’s skirt with a glance.

“He was wounded by orcs in the Lone Lands some five days hence,” answered Benia softly. “Kaldir did his best to rush him here, but the way has been rough. We were forced to cross the river just above the falls. I fear it may have been too much for him.” The hint of a sob found its way into Benia’s voice. “Please say you can help him.”

Léspheria gave Benia a searching look, which made the southern woman feel suddenly self-conscious, crouched there on the ground in her torn, muddy dress, the kohl smeared around her eyes. Under the gaze of the beautiful Elven lady, she felt more like a mongrel than ever. A hot flush rose up in Benia’s cheeks, but her grip on Dúlrain’s hand only tightened.

“Benia...” murmured Dúlrain, his eyes flickering open for an instant before landing on Benia‘s face and closing again.

Léspheria’s gaze softened.

“He’s lost a good deal of blood,” she said gently. “Until I remove the bindings and take a close look at the wound, I cannot know how badly he is hurt, but he is strong. If he could make it this far, I’m sure his chances are good.” Reaching out, Léspheria touched Benia’s wrist. “Fear not for him, lady,” she added more softly, her voice strangely touched with emotion.

Benia nodded and, feeling hopeful for the first time since Dúlrain’s collapse on the riverbank, reluctantly released his hand as two elves lifted him to carry him to the halls of healing. She jogged along behind them as the two elves moved swiftly through the great house that had once been home to both Elrond and Queen Arwen Evenstar, but the beauty and wonder of the place was lost on Benia as her only thoughts were for Dúlrain. Ahead of her, she could hear him muttering and crying out on occasion in what she could only assume was delirium, once calling out clearly for Kaldir. A few minutes later, she heard, “he loves her...”, then “...never be mine...” Her dark eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Just then, the elves bearing Dúlrain turned into a softly lit room, where they laid the injured man down on a waiting bed. Léspheria, who had been walking a few steps behind Benia as they moved through the halls, slid past her now to a table near Dúlrain’s bed and began to lay out the herbs from her satchel. Neither wishing to leave nor to get in the way, Benia hung back against the wall next to the door, watching nervously as the elves who had carried Dúlrain began to cut the bindings away from his wound. Hugging her elbows, she slid down the wall until she sat on her heels, her long, black braid pulled forward over her shoulder. Her dress still wet from the river crossing, she shivered, feeling suddenly very cold and very alone.

Benia had never been in the presence of many elves in her lifetime and certainly had never experienced any place like Imladris. She had been so focused on getting there for Dúlrain's sake that she had not given any thought as to what would become of herself when the time came. Now that Dúlrain had been safely delivered in to the hands of the healers she had sought, she found herself feeling very intimidated and overwhelmed. If only Gilly were there with her.

Gilly! Benia realized with mounting horror that she had been so intent on saving Dúlrain that she had simply ridden off and left her best and dearest friend in the world to her fate on the battlefield. All she could do was hope and pray with all the strength in her heart that Gilly had made it into Imladris unharmed. If anything ill had befallen the little hobbit lady, Benia knew she would never be able to forgive herself and would carry a burden of guilt for the rest of her life. And Kaldir, too... Remembering the way she had behaved on the riverbank toward him, Benia felt a spike of shame. She could see now that it was through his sheer determination and bravery that any of them had made it even as far as the stair, yet she had had the nerve to turn on him and fairly accuse him of trying to murder Dúlrain. She remembered the expression that had flashed across his scarred face as the words left her mouth. She might as well have driven a knife into his chest. If only he could find it in his heart to forgive her. She had been so frightened.

Reaching up, Benia brushed a single tear from the corner of her gemlike eyes.

[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.

*********************************************

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.

[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..."

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Rauthain

It was after the elves had shown them to the place where they might be quartered among those young rangers who still trained under their tutelage, Amandur and Rauthain set about trying gain word on Dúlrain's condition, insisting that Avanill come with them. Yet without pause the rangers had found Toby a companion when he showed a slight reluctance to join them, the hobbit for his part, looking visibly relieved to see the three men start off down the path toward the main body of the house without him.

But going along the winding path through the rhododendrons and great banks of ferns that rose beside the way, Rauthain suddenly taking hold of Avanill's arm pulled him off the path toward a grotto overhung with wild roses, indicating Amandur to follow. The young man sharply jerked his arm away and went to reach for his sword, but Amandur had already drawn his weapon, and with his left hand placed it at the fellow's throat. "Steady," Rauthain admonished in a whisper. "We have already had enough bloodshed for one day, and I have seen that you are both worthy opponents. No, we are not here to spill blood, but to speak of one whose blood was spent among the circle of oaks in Chetwood." Rauthain lowered his chin and looking out from under his brow gazed into Avanill impassive face. "My friend and I, think you know of whom I speak. We know in truth, Avanill, son of …Atoren, did you say? Your feet have betrayed you."

The young man drew himself up and with his chin held high, quickly assessed his position.

“Do not contend with us, it would not be to your advantage, I assure you.” Amandur advised coldly. Then turning, he addressed the old ranger. “Let us escort him now to Elrohir and Elladan, and gather their counsel on where he might be kept until we might deal with him.”

“You speak well Amandur, but how shall we deal with him, for Tallas was highly esteemed by our brethren?” Rauthain sighed.

“And was quite brutally murdered.” Amandur added.

“Sadly yes. But as I was saying, there is not a wandering ranger in this land who would not wish to have Tallas avenged, myself among them,” Rauthain admitted. “So you see your life is forfeit Avanill, the rangers on one side and Naiore on the other. For even if you did not escape her company without leave, as I suspect you did, after your stay with us in Karningul, she will no longer trust her pawn, but will doubtless seek to sacrifice it at the earliest opportunity. I can truly say that I am glad I am not in your place.”

“I do not live life haunted by fear, nor do I choose to now,” the young man said proudly.
“Yet there are times when it is hard to lay such possibilities aside.”

“It is better to leave the matter to the elves or at least leave him for safe keeping until we return from our hunt, and can transport him together with Naiore to suffer the King’s judgment.” Amandur mused. “He will be quite safe here both from rangers and from escape, though I do not know if they might have room, for many orcs of rank were captured today.”

“He will just have to live alongside them in his captivity,” Rauthain said simply. “I see no other way.”

“But there is another way,” Avanill said, his eyes narrowing. “Perhaps I can show my worth by being of service in your endeavor.”

“What help can you be, except to provide a sharp knife when dispatching us in our sleep! We have enough to mind, without you on the trail.” Amandur said sheathing his sword. “No, I do not think we have use for you, nor will we strike a bargain.”

“Truly, my freedom would be profitable for you, for you will need to subdue this ravennor once you have caught her. And though you bind her with the strongest elven rope, you cannot constrain her mind,” he paused to gauge their expressions. “I have witnessed her talents sir, and what she is capable of. You would not stand for long against her, but would come to a point where you yourself would gladly cut her bonds and free her.”

This struck a chord in the old ranger, and he knew in his heart what the young man said would prove true given time. “But if we ask it of them, the elves would provide us with the assistance we require.” He replied, knowing full well that Imladris could ill afford to spare its guards to accompany them.

“It is a long way to Gondor, and ample opportunity for her to work her damage upon us. I had in mind certain preparations and compounds, the production of I have some mastery of. These would render her quite helpless.”

“Can not the elves furnish these things also?” Amandur said, dismissing the thought, “and at less risk to us.”

“Yes, they might have something akin to what I speak of, but I have in reserve some potent ingredients, even the elves would shun. Too strong or unstable, and some others too risky but still widely used in areas the elves do not tread,” he said with a sidelong glance at Amandur. “I have come by them only by chance and by my family’s close contacts. You will find them very effective drafts, found nowhere else in the west but on my person. They would dull the Ravennor’s mind such that she would walk in a dream, not able to focus her thoughts, but still she could walk. She could travel long distances without being bound. See here are my stores,” he said opening the satchel at his side, pulling out packets and unwrapping carefully stored vials. Then turning to Amandur he explained, “I would not mislead you in this, for my own life is at stake and perhaps more than that. But do not underestimate my value to you, for strength and armaments alone will not bring Naiore to face the King.”

“You may well be right, and you have thus far been of great assistance, but we also must consider that you might misrepresent your skills and loyalties. Not to forget also your part in the murder of our friend Tallas. But were we to agree, and you play us for the fool, as I live,” the old ranger declared, “my anger would lay heavy on you! And should you turn against us on the road, it would be my great satisfaction to chase you like a fox and repay you.”