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Ęšelhild and the Healer from Meduseld bent together over the ailing man. Eodwine paced at the head of the table, looking rather anxious himself. As for the girl. . .the young woman, she had retreated to a corner and a chair, looking badly frightened. Thornden glanced at her briefly and turned towards Kara.
“Run to the kitchen, lass, and fetch some warm ale with honey. The lady yonder needs it.” Kara looked up at him briefly and he nodded towards the kitchen. She immediately turned and went off at a pleasingly swift pace, coming back in little time at all with the desired drink. Thornden took it from her hand and went quietly to young stranger.
Without speaking, and without breaking the line of vision to where the man lay, he gently pressed the cup into her hand and curled her fingers about it so that she was aware of it before he let it go. Numbly, she drank it, and not once did she look up, nor was she aware that Thornden stood watching her and the tears which escaped unconsciously from her lashes.
“He’ll be alright yet, lady,” he finally said. She gave a start, suddenly aware of him, and looked up. “The Healer is a greatly skilled man and I have seen him heal many wounds and sicknesses. Your friend could not be in better hands. Take heart. He’ll see through this day and many more after it.”
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