I tell others I am a little old village healer. It is true. I am quite short for a son of the Noldor, I am older than most now, one born in the First Age, I have lived through a lot of sorrow. Sometimes I feel the weight of the years upon me and speak with my wife Alimiel about taking ship. Our son and his family, and our youngest daughter and her family are already in the Undying Lands. Our eldest daughter remains. For now she and my work still hold me to these shores.
I have never liked the larger settlements, towns, fortresses. They have always been too busy for my comfort, too many folk moving about. I like smaller groups, I like solitude. To sit at the coast, or under trees at dawn or dusk, to hear the bird song and watch the land awaken or prepare for slumber…those are my everyday joys. And to tend a small community, speeding their healing, setting their broken bones, helping them knit together lives broken by war or misadventure. I now know the folk of Celondim well. I do not wish to leave them just yet. For there is another war coming, many deem, and I know not if it will reach us here, perched on the edge of the Great Sea. I may be needed far more than I wish.
So we remain, my wife and I, and tend our garden, and grow exceptional apple trees, and care for any who want our aid.
For the most part, I deal with fractures, and speed the healing of cuts and bruises. It was not always so. My family served Prince Maglor. In the years after the leaguer was broken by Morgoth, we had plenty to do. Oh, I was trained as a rider, a warrior as much as anything else, but my family were known mostly for our healing skills and our learning…so we went among our fallen, seeing and treating the devastation rained down upon our people. It wore down the innate strength of the fea, it tore the heart asunder. But we learned in the field. I rode with my Prince, beside my father and sister in the Dagor Bragollach. So many lost to the flames. So many none of us could restore. The injuries were horrendous. I rode in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and barely escaped with my life. My father was not as fortunate. I rode in the Great Battle, the War of Wrath, though by then I followed the host of King Finarfin. And other battles there were, I shirked not my duty.
And now I try to heal my memories. These last yeni I have finally settled. The rider rarely rides.
But I have been rudely reminded that evil hearts still can draw close. These past few days I have spent at the bedside of a young ellon, in a homestead set out nigh the border with the Yondershire. It has been some time since I beheld anything so callous.
I was summoned from my garden in the mid afternoon by a villager, with the news someone dwelling near him had been deliberately trampled by a Man on a horse, and was nigh death. I was asked to travel with urgency. Leaving the messenger to inform the local Guards, I took up my healer’s bag, and rode as swiftly as I could to the place I was needed.
There I was greeted by a tall, powerful looking ellon, one Belegos, of the people of Turgon. He was a friend of the Household, he said, as he led me to the stricken Barahirn. Another dark haired ellon was sitting with him holding his good hand, his face drawn, his eyes reddened by tears. He said his name was Ceuro.
I nodded, immediately turning to the patient. ‘Ai!’ There were so many injuries that I wondered how he yet lived.
He lifted his head, partially opening one eye to look at me, as his other eye was swollen shut, then fell back into a senseless state. From his twisted unnatural position it was easy to see both his legs were broken, one arm also. His face was crushed, his nose flattened and his jaw askew, obviously broken. His breathing was ragged and shallow.
It was the hidden, less visible injuries that most concerned me.
I had seen the half burnt buildings as I rode in; the acrid smell from the fires filled my nostrils. The air was not easy to breathe even with whole, undamaged lungs. Barahirn needed to be moved away from the ruins, but would moving him seal his fate?
Turning to the door I saw the ellon who had brought me here, and now also a brown haired elleth close by him.
“Is there anywhere nearby we can carry him to? Someplace where the air is more wholesome?”
Belegos looked up from his vigil. “They did not reach the main Hall on the hill. It, at least, is untainted.”
The pair standing by the door nodded. “Natho den” the ellon said, ‘Heal him.’ “My lady wife and I will help carry him. Perhaps with the aid of a thick blanket?
I was reluctant to administer a soporific. Although I wanted to lessen his pain, I also needed him to be awake when I examined him. I thought I would risk another small phial of willow bark extract. It would help somewhat.
“What sort of being does such a thing?” I said more to myself than to Belegos, Ceuro and the couple. “I have seen something similar, on occasions when someone fell and their horse rolled on them. Accidentally, of course, not deliberately: Horses do not like treading or rolling on folk.”
“It was a group of Men. Brigands, not the usual Breelanders.” Belegos tried to explain. “I have no idea why they were here. But they intended harm, that much is certain. Alas, I was too late to prevent one killing Aearlinn, or them setting two of the buildings alight. Aearlinn’s body is in the other room, if you would take a look? There are no signs of life. I am no healer but I have seen enough of death to recognise it.”
Ceuro hung his head, dark hair that was not in a braid falling over his face and shoulders. “She is gone,” he whispered. “I suspected he and Aearlinn had been quite close.
I knew of Aearlinn a little myself. So it seemed did the neighbours. The elleth looked down and wiped her eyes. “She was a dear little thing. Always with one or other of her animals. So kind to everyone. I knew her family a little. They all sailed though.” She nodded discreetly at Ceuro, confirming he had been important to her.
I nodded and sighed. Walking into the room indicated, I looked down at the still form on the bed. Someone had covered the wound in her chest with a light cloak. A single white flower had been placed on top. Her gown had been arranged and her hair placed over her shoulders so she looked as if she was still sleeping. It would be a long sleep, I thought, but then she would awaken on the shores of Valinor. I lay a hand on her cold forehead and whispered words to Lorien, that he may help her fea find rest.
“She is dead,” I said reluctantly. “I am sorry. There is no medicine that can heal death. But Lord Namo’s care awaits, and in time, Valinor.”
Returning to the small group, the brown haired elleth was saying, “It is not your fault, Ceuro. You were not to know what would happen. None of us saw it coming.”
“She would not have been the one to die, had I been here at the time,” the thinner Noldo managed to choke out. “But I thought attending to work was more important, that I would be with her soon.”
Belegos nodded and stood to walk over to where a large jug of water stood on a chest. He offered the water to us in turn. I shook my head. “Later. Maybe wine if things go well.”
Moving to Barahirn’s side I said, “We must move you now. We shall take great care, but try to remain still.”
He seemed a little calmer, the willow bark was having an effect. He blinked his partly open eye in recognition that he understood.
A fine, slow group we were, as we carried Barahirn through the door of Lady Danel’s part ruined house, and up the slope to the untouched Halls.
“This Hall is safe I believe,” Belegos was taking the weight of Barahirn’s head and shoulders, and moving backwards. “There should be plenty of room. Filignil and Estarfin dwell here, but both are away.”
“Together?” I was a little confused, as I had thought from village gossip that Estarfin was with Lady Danel.
“No, not together,” Belegos grinned. “She has the kitchen and upper floor, he has the lower floor and forge. We best take Barahirn to Estarfin’s room I think.”
With some shuffling and careful maneuvering, we four managed to get through the large main doors and along the corridor to Estarfin’s armour decorated realm. A few more steps and we placed him into the bed.
“The air is far better here,” I observed. There was hardly any scent of the smoke. “Now I must get to work.”
The other four moved into the adjoining room. I heard them draw up chairs. They were close enough to come immediately if I called.
“Now Barahirn,” I poured water in the bedside basin and washed my hands. “This is my battlefield, and the herbs and tinctures I carry are my chosen weapons. I shall wrest you from the grip of these injuries. All I ask is for you fight alongside me.”
The poor ellon, he moved his head slightly, and blinked his eye.
