[Envinyatar]

‘Bring his pack along, someone!’ Orëmir’s quick inspection of Lindir’s wound showed a deep gash on his right side, extending upward from the ninth to the 7th rib. From what manipulation he had been able to make, the ribs did not appear to be broken. With the long practice gained of carrying downed men and Elves from the field of battle, Orëmir slung the injured Elf over his left shoulder and took him to the gatehouse. One of the other Elves had gone ahead and made clear a space to lay Lindir down. A blanket had been unrolled for him to rest on and another folded into a neat square made for a pillow.

With an economy of motion Orëmir pushed up Lindir’s bloodied tunic and wiped away what blood he could with a clean section of it as he went. Someone had placed his medicine chest near him and he fished about in it for his bottle of distilled spirits. Pouring a thin stream of it into the gash, he used a clean wad of cloth to clear away the crusted blood and dirt at the edges of the wound. The blood had already stopped flowing. With salve and soft fluffed cloths, he covered the wound and bound it securely with a roll of long linen strips.

During all this, Lindir made no sounds nor did he move as the gash was cleaned and bound. His face was pale, his brow beaded with sweat. And beneath his thin lids, his eyes darted furtively as if searching . . .

‘The wound will heal,’ Orëmir said, standing up from his friend’s still form. ‘It is a long gash, deep, but not such that the muscle below is breached. The ribs are intact; he breathes well.’ He paused for a moment a worried look on his face. Endamir straightened up from where he had bent to place a blanket over Lindir. He raised his brow at his brother.

‘It is usual when I take care of another Elf’s wounds for me to contact the other Elf, through osanwë. Even if they are not conscious, there is usually some point of contact where their energies can be focused on their wounds, helping them to heal more quickly.’ He gazed down at Lindir, lying still as stone. ‘But he has pulled himself away somewhere. To a place where my healer’s skills cannot reach him. I . . . I worry. It is sometimes like this when an Elf hovers between life and death. But it is not his wound which is causing this state. I’m puzzled . . . and I cannot think what to do for him. Save that we must somehow keep him safe until we can call him back to us.’