The lavenders poked their pale petals through the arrangement of green herbs, among which they nestled themselves. From their many vantage points around the room, laid over tables, draped over shelves, they spread their light scent throughout the room, welcoming everyone with a peaceful atmosphere as they entered.
Eliriael was finishing the last arrangement on the bedside table near Lord Estarfin’s head. Hopefully, with Danel’s advice, Tyulusse would be able to create an incense using a scent more familiar and comforting to Estarfin. Until then, flowers and herbs from her garden would do.
The moonlight filtered in through the window and threw its light across Estarfin’s peaceful face, unmarked by the lines of suffering and pain that had frequented his features as of late. Satisfied that his breathing was even with sleep, Eliriael took to the chair in the corner of the room next to her harp. Laying her fingers gently on the strings, she tried to clear her mind of the anxious thoughts that had been clouding it for the past several days.
The unsteady beating of Estarfin’s heart under their bloodied hands, fading, thumping against his chest pitifully, had driven all of them into a great fear. If it had not been for Elvealin caring for Danel’s wounds and providing her with pleasant company and tea…If it had not been for Uilossiel bringing bandages, fetching vials across the room, tending the wounds on Estarfin’s legs… would they have been able to see to all of his many wounds in time? Would he be as safe and stable as he was now? Certainly, Lord Estarfin was still hurting, but he was at least on the road to recovery. When he was first brought into the healing room, every injury stitched, covered, and bandaged was one less precious drop of blood lost. She remembered the serious look in Laurelindo’s eyes as he worked efficiently, his hands wasting no time with any single action – they all knew every second was vital to Estarfin’s survival.
Eliriael shook her head and breathed deeply again, trying to ease her thoughts. She hoped that Laurelindo was taking his well-deserved rest but was doubtful. Every afternoon, she returned after her daily morning walks with Danel, to find him watching vigilantly over his patient. He would excuse himself from the room occasionally, but judging by the new supplies he returned with in his arms each time, she wondered if he rested at all.
Pressing her fingers softly against the strings, she began to play a serene melody that resonated of her happier days during the First Age. Being an old Quenyan song from her white city, she hoped that it would somehow remind Estarfin of the peaceful days he spent in the homeland that Danel had been describing to her these past mornings – a fair land bright in its glory and filled with joyful memories.
* * *
Little Eliriael stood by the bed, where a wounded soldier lay patiently, grimacing in obvious pain. He muffled a grunt as her mother tended to his leg. Eliriael could not see the mysterious events that took place on those beds, as she was still too short. All she knew was that elves with injuries climbed onto them and elves with smiles and white bandages left them.
“Are you hurting?” Eliriael tiptoed to try and bring herself level with the soldier’s face. She fell short a couple inches, but a pair of deep grey eyes turned her way before they closed briefly along with a stifled yell.
Eliriael held her doll above her head to cover the last couple inches towards the bed. Now at least, the doll’s eyes were level with the ellon’s.
“Lossë was injured, too.” In truth, the doll had suffered a most grievous wound, a part of her arm having been ripped off by some young ellyn in an attempt to steal her away in childish fun.
“Elirië, do not bother my patient. Go and sit quietly,” her naneth scolded.
“Leave her be, Lady Elrinarë,” the soldier spoke with effort through tight lips. “She is a most welcome distraction.”
Eliriael smiled widely at the ellon. “This is Lossë. What is your name?”
“Ceurtiron.”
Raising the doll a little more, she pointed out Lossë’s bandaged arm. “Naneth stitched her arm back, but I wrapped the bandages.” It had been Eliriael’s first attempt at caring for a patient, and she was proud of the simple feat. “She is going to get better soon. And you will too.” With that, she pulled Lossë back down towards her chest and hugged her tightly.
Ceurtiron offered a small smile in response. As her mother took care of her patient, Eliriael stood by with a comforting smile while brushing Lossë’s hair with her fingers. When Ceurtiron finally finished his treatment and closed his eyes to rest, Eliriael looked to her mother above her. She was putting away bandages and bottles, a clear sign that she had finished and was available to being disturbed.
Elrinarë smiled lovingly at her daughter and reassured her, “He is going to be well soon.”
* * *
With her mother’s radiant smile clear in her mind, Eliriael continued to play her fingers against the harp, whispering to Estarfin across the room, “And you will too.”
