Focusing on carefully on putting the poultices on the stranger's head seemed to help the fear, Naaramare discovered. It did not make it go <i>away</i>, but it did help.
She wasn't sure when it was that Bethberry stood up; she didn't notice, wrapped up as she was in making sure she didn't do more damage to the fallen stranger then was already done, by way of clumsy tending.
She did notice, however, when Bethberry's song reached her. It was like a frisson up her spine, making her gasp at it's familiarity. The part of her that sometimes provided those fleeting, disappearing memories seemed to spasm suddenly, and her fear--
It didn't not disappear, but it no longer crippled her in any way. She no longer needed to shunt all her energy into the stranger's tending to keep it from overwhelming her. It suddenly seemed to her as if she'd faced down enemies more frightening than the wraith, though she did not remember how.
"Thou think thou can slay thee with noise?" the wraith-thing mocked, and Naaramare found herself on her feet beside Bethberry facing the creature.
"Noise?" she repeated. "This is no noise, you foul . . .thing. It is a counter to the fear you try to create!"
What in the names of the Vala do I think I'm doing? Naaramare demanded of herself. She had no powers to take on this wraith, this thing . . .
Oh no? said a voice, coming from the same place as her occasional memories. Why not? What does it have, a sword? Others here have swords. Power? You walk with Mithrandir, foolish girl. The only real power this thing has is fear; cease to fear it, you cease to give it weapons.
"You have no more strength here!" she found herself shouting at the wraith. "Get you gone, ere worse befall you!"
(OOC: Hmm. Methinks this is my longest post yet)
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