[piosenniel]

Holly made her way to where Volondil sat on Mornen. The horse looked none the worse for wear from it's previous ill fated encounter with the pit, but its present rider looked pale and ill at ease. He motioned her to help him down from his seat, and she spoke softly with Mornen to keep him steady while Aislan held the reins.

Volondil slid slowly to the ground, bearing much of his weight by the strength of his arms. He stood for some few minutes, bent over, hands on knees, willing his breath back to some regularity. At last he raised his face to her and stood up straight, a fine bead of sweat breaking out on his brow. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and leaning on her for support, bade her take him to where Peri and Andreth stood waiting.

'Do you not think you push yourself too fast?' she asked him as they walked along. 'Your wound pains you greatly still, though I see your strength has begun to come back somewhat.'

'Yes, and by the time we reach the castle, I need to have the majority of my strength returned.' He splinted his side with his hand, taking deep breaths, as they walked. 'I need your help. I cannot be carried all the way to Castle Maladil on the back of the horse. I will still be as weak as a kitten, and worse, useless, should I do that. I must walk some as we go along and in the end be able to wield my blade should the need arise.' He squeezed her shoulder, causing her to stop and face him. 'I need your help.'

Holly turned a frowning face to him, and shook her head. 'Foolish Man!' Seeing the resolve in his eyes, she shrugged, and answered that she would do what she could, if he agreed to her conditions. They had reached the pony and Andreth by then, and Volondil sat down on a grassy rise, smiling weakly. 'And what conditions might those be Mistress Holly?'

She outlined for him that he must let her check his healing wound each day, and she would be the judge of how long he should walk each day and when he needed to let Mornen carry him. His strength should come back in increments and not impair his healing. As to his use of the sword, the quickness and turns he would need to maneuver with it, she said she had a thought at how that might be accomplished.

She asked Andreth to fetch the Ranger's pack. The woman returned quickly with it, placing it before the man, who looked expectantly at Holly. Untying the pack, she bade him find the boiled leather vest he wore beneath his mail. Once done, she checked the dressing over his wound and found it dry and intact. She motioned for him to stand and put on the vest, leaving it unlaced. Picking up a spare shirt of his from the pack, she folded it to fit against the area of the wound, then laced the vest tight against it.

'Now try your sword - a little!' she urged him, standing back as he drew it. His face was a twinned mirror of delight and effort as he made a few, gentle passes with his blade. She reached out a hand to restrain his arm as he prepared to practice more. 'Wonderful!' he cried softly, leaning now on the pommel as he rested from the brief excecise, the tip of his blade secured against the ground before him.

'Yes, well, but perhaps you should not be too enthusiastic as yet. I think you will be more ready by the time we have reached the castle, but don't go off on your own. You will need your companions about you should trouble arise.'

She laughed to herself as he took a few more passes in the air. 'Just one small shove from this small Hobbit's hand, and you would go sprawling, blade or no.' She watched as he resheathed his sword; then, taking the vest from him, she checked his wound once more and bade him rest for a moment before he remounted Mornen.