There was no choice but to risk a fire once again, even though it was becoming more and more evident that malevolent eyes might see it. As Turgur dismounted and quickly set about gathering dry brush and kindling, Lindovor placed a hand on the still figure that was carefully balanced on the back of his horse. She still breathed, and that was miracle enough. Making sure his mount was standing calmly, he lifted a cloak and a small measure of clean cloth from one of his saddle packs, quickly fashioning a bed beside the small fire that was crackling into life. Lifting Fairlain from the horse's back, Lindovor placed her on the cloak and, removing his tunic, folded it and placed it under the girls head that she might breath more easily.
Taking a waterskin from his saddle, Lindovor knelt by the girl and gently began to wash the blood from her face and hands. "I have only ever seen this much blood on the battlefield," he said. Turgur watched him a moment, then made a wordless sound of agreement. Rising, the warrior went over to the horses and made sure they were securely tethered. Lindovor continued to work, checking the girl's limbs to make sure the bones were yet whole. The arm that had looked so strange when Lindovor found her was not in fact broken, but had been pushed from its proper place by the force of her fall. Sitting back and placing one foot at the base of her shoulder, he took her right arm and with a slow and insistent pressure pulled until he felt the arm find its proper place with a gentle pop. Folding her arm gently, he placed it across her chest and that was when he noticed the wound on her left side. Carefully, he peeled back the robe from her shoulder, his face becoming ashen at what he saw.
"Eru's mercy...."
"Who has done this?" Sir Turgur's voice shook with horror and outrage as he stood behind the grey-haired minstrel.
Lindovor turn to say something to his friend, when the night was broken by the sound of approaching voices...many voices. The faces of both men instantly became focused and grim. Lindovor's eyes went to his saddle where his sword hung from the pommel. Sir Turgur placed a hand on his shoulder.
"No, my friend...take her and go. If you ride hard, you will make the Forsaken Inn. Get her back to the lady and let her know of this. They will not follow you..." Turgur stepped to where his broadsword rested and unsheathed it. Death was in his eyes.
Lindovor carefully lifted Fairlain and took his tunic from under her head. Quickly wrapping the girl in both tunic and cloak, he placed her in the saddle and mounted the horse behind her. Nodding a quick salute to his friend, he turned the little grey horse and, placing an arm protectively around his burden, galloped away from the voices and into the night.
