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"I do not know what you mean by magic," he replied gently. "This herb grows in my homeland. I have used it many times to soothe hurts and help heal wounds."
The woman still seemed doubtful, even fearful. He gently reached out to the thoughts on the edges of her mind, in a way that she would not feel. He could tell that she saw him true, but that lore from the Eorlings of dire dwimmerdene arts from the Wood of the Elves, of lulling and entrapping. He smiled sadly.
"I can break it and put it in the water, or if you would like I can give it to you for you to do with as you like." He held it out to her, silently grieving the wounds that had been caused between Elves and Humans for three Ages by first Bauglir, then Sauron. He was glad that he was going to leave the shores of Middle Earth, to put the evil and pain behind him once and for all. But he was glad, too, that he could have these moments living with the Younger Children of Eru. It gave him much to think on.
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