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The Elf that Ledwyn saw earlier came over to her and Theolain. She instinctively drew her son slightly closer to herself, and greeted the stranger with a wary gaze. Theolain, taking advantage of the shift of her attention, drew his hand out of the water and showed it to the Elf with a proud look on his face.
"May I put this in the water? It might help soothe the boy's hand," the Elf said. He did not sound like a web-weaver or sorcerer from the stories her grandmother used to tell Ledwyn when she was a child. They always had voices that lulled riders to sleep, made them forget about their duties, homes, and families, and ensnared their hearts in webs of treachery.
He did not sound like that. Nothing majestic, magical, or ensnaring. Just a simple, kind, gentle voice, soft and musical, only a little sad. And wise. She would believe the voice, but it was Theolain that the Dwimordene Elf wished to practice his healing on. What if the he thought to enthrall him? His folk have enthralled riders that came too close to their land with their secret arts. She had to know that this is no foul trick.
“What is this herb? Is it like the ones the renowned Healers of Gondor use? It is not…” Ledwyn thought about the word for a moment. “…magic?”
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