[Ealasaide]

Benia

Hesitantly, Benia accepted the warm mug of herbal tea from the hands of the Elven assistant. She murmured her thanks, but her eyes strayed worriedly toward Dúlrain. He was sleeping quietly now, but she could not erase the memory of his cries of pain from her ears.

"He will be fine," Léspheria reassured her warmly. "Someone will be with him at all times."

"Thank you," Benia said again. She dropped a deep curtsy, still clutching the warm mug in both of her hands. "While it is his life that you save, I find myself eternally in your debt and at your service." She lowered her eyes. "If he were to die, my life would no longer be of value to me." When Benia again raised her face, her eyes were brimmed with tears, but her expression was not one of despair. It was of hope and firm resolve. What she left unspoken was the knowledge that if he lived, her life would take on more depth and meaning. There had been a time, even so recently as the day before, when she had felt doubts that her feelings for the wounded Ranger would be reciprocated, but now she knew in her heart that they were. That knowledge gave her strength.

For a brief moment the gazes of the two women, one Elven, one mortal, met. Then, Léspheria's expression grew pensive. "He will not die," she said gently, a faraway look coming into her gray eyes. She touched Benia's hand. "Now, come, let my assistant show you to a room where you may change out of those wet things. It would hardly do for Dúlrain to awake only to find you have taken ill as well, now, would it?"

Benia's cheeks colored, then, sheepishly, she shook her head. "No, Lady, you are right. It wouldn't do at all." She needed to be well for him and strong, and, if at all possible, beautiful. Benia took a final sip of tea and put aside the mug. With a glance down at her torn, muddy skirts and sodden boots, she bent and collected the dress and towels she had flung aside earlier when she had rushed to Dúlrain‘s side. Gathering them in her arms, she walked to the door where a tall, young Elven lady waited to lead her to her room.

"I am Celebnariel," the Elven lady said as they started down the hall in the direction of the guests’ rooms. "If there is anything you need during your stay in the Last Homely House, please let me know. It is my duty to see that you are comfortable during your stay with us."

Again, Benia murmured her thanks. " I was wondering if you might have seen something of my friends," she added quietly. "Besides Dúlrain, I was traveling with two others in particular, a hobbit lady and a man. The hobbit lady's name is Gilly Banks. She's small and rather slim for a hobbit, and the man has the look of a Ranger. He's tall and has a badly scarred face. He goes by the name of Kaldir. Have you any word of them?"

Celebnariel listened to her attentively, then nodded. "Yes, they have both arrived in good standing. In fact, Gilly was down to see you in the Hall of Healing, but left as she did not wish to interrupt your efforts. I'm sure you will be seeing her later. I have not seen this man Kaldir myself, but a room has been prepared for him just down the hall from yours. From what I understand, he was seen on the path above the great stair, so if he has not found his room already, I'm sure he will soon. If you like, I can leave word for the two of them that you were asking after them."

"Yes, please do!" answered Benia. "I would be ever so grateful."

"Consider it done," answered Celebnariel. "I shall see to it myself."

"Now that I know my friends are safe," Benia continued after only a second’s hesitation. "There is one other thing that I should like to ask of you."

"Yes?" prompted the elflady with a smile.

"As soon as I am presentable again, I should like to return to Dúlrain's bedside in the Hall of Healing. Would that be possible? I must warn you that if you say "no," I shall be forced to find my way back on my own."

Celebnariel laughed merrily. "I or any of my colleagues would be delighted to show you the way back." Her fair face sobered. "I know what it is like to fear for the life of a loved one."

Hearing the gravity in the Elven lady’s voice, Benia paused. A flurry of questions rose in her mind, but before she could ask even one of them, Celebnariel stopped and opened a door on to one of the most beautiful chambers that Benia had ever laid eyes on. She almost stopped breathing when she saw that a bath had already been drawn for her and waited, steaming, before a small fire that burned merrily in the grate. Seeing Benia’s expression, Celebnariel laughed.

"You look as though you are cold to the bones! I see you have already been given some dry clothes. When you are finished bathing, you may leave your wet things here by the door. We will see to it that they are cleaned and mended."

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Benia murmured her thanks. She waited quietly as Celebnariel fussed over a few details around the room then took her leave. Once she had gone, Benia wasted no time in slipping off her cold, wet clothes and climbing into the bath. Closing her eyes, she sank into the hot, fragrant water and, for the first time in a very long time, felt almost weightless, as though all of her problems floated away from her in the tendrils of steam that laced the air around her. The chill that had enveloped her so completely since the river crossing finally began to recede, allowing the warmth to return slowly to her limbs. For a brief moment, she felt supremely content.

But the moment passed swiftly. Almost in response to her happiness, the tortured echoes of Dúlrain’s anguish rose again in her ears. If she wanted to be there beside him when he awoke, she knew she must not allow herself to become distracted by her own desire for such creature comforts as a bath and a soft bed. Steeling herself against the temptation to indulge her whims, she finished bathing quickly. Once she was satisfied that every last trace of the river smell had been washed from her skin and hair, she toweled herself off and dressed in the green silk dress that had been provided by the Elves. It was an amazingly good fit. If she had been a vain woman, she might have twirled a few times before the mirror and admired the way the green set off the amber of her eyes, but Benia was not a vain woman. Instead, she merely smoothed the fine garment into place, then set to combing out the tangles from her long, black hair. When her thick tresses once more flowed down her back like a raven-colored veil, she finished her preparations by finding a small vial amongst her meager possessions and re-applying the line of kohl around each of her eyes. Lastly, she pulled on the lovely - and dry! - Elven boots that Celebnariel had left for her and found that, like the dress, they fitted as though they had been made for her. She was finally ready to return to the Hall of Healing.

As she opened the door to her room, Benia found Celebnariel already there and waiting to escort her back to Dúlrain’s side. Celebnariel again took her leave as Benia entered Dúlrain’s room. Léspheria and Vanwe had since gone as well, but the Healer who had been staying with Dúlrain in Benia’s absence smiled.

"He’s still sleeping peacefully," he said as Benia approached the Ranger’s bedside.

"Thank you," she answered. She bent down and tenderly smoothed a few stray strands of black hair back from Dúlrain’s face. "I had so hoped to be with him when he awoke."

"You will be," answered the healer. "I think you will find his condition much improved, but there are others who need my attention as well. With your permission, I will see to them now."

"Yes, please, you must not neglect the others," agreed Benia softly. "I will stay with him now."

As he prepared to go, the Healer showed Benia a bell cord by the door that she could pull if she needed him, Celebnariel, or, in fact, anything at all. She thanked him again and settled into the chair that had been left by the injured man's bed. Laying her hands against Dúlrain's face, she was relieved to find that his skin no longer burned so frighteningly hot to the touch. She could detect the remains of a fever, but it was only slight. She murmured a soft prayer of thanks in her mother's desert dialect. Then, looking around, she found a small basin of water and a washcloth. Dipping the washcloth just under the surface of the cool fresh water, she bathed his sleeping face and hands. She planned to stay there with him as long as he remained asleep. And, if she had anything to say about it, she would still be there when he awoke.

Nothing else mattered.