A ray of pale winter sun shone through the windowpane onto the coverlet of the bed where Estelyn lay. Slowly it wandered upwards until it reached her face. The light and warmth on her eyelids awakened her from troubled dreams, yet she was strangely reluctant to open her eyes. She felt as if she were floating on a dark sea, with nothing to grasp that could pull her back into life.
When her eyelids finally fluttered open, she saw nothing that she recognized. This was not her room – where was she? Why was she here? She struggled against the weakness that lamed her limbs, trying to sit up, attempting to take stock of her surroundings.
The door opened and a woman entered the room. The face seemed familiar; she gazed at her with knitted brows, puzzled. The woman approached her with a bowl, but the smell of food and drink repulsed her. Her eyes dropped shut again and she fell into restless sleep.
When she awoke later, the sunlight had wandered to the far corner of the room. She felt refreshed and stronger, grasping eagerly the cup of water that stood on the low table at her bedside. Bethberry, who had been dozing in the armchair, was awake instantly and came to feel her brow and pulse.
“Bethberry!” Estelyn smiled. “Why are you here? Where are we?”
“Shhhh,” Bethberry admonished. “Slowly now, one question at a time is enough!”
Estelyn’s eyes widened as she listened to the brief account of the last days. Memories of dark tunnels came back to her mind, and she became aware of the pain in her wounded side.
“’Twas the poison, not the wound, that caused your illness,” Bethberry informed her. “Praised be Yavanna for healing herbs that have helped you! But now you must regain your strength.”
After a few spoonfuls of gruel, Estelyn was again exhausted and fell asleep. It was night when she awoke; a shaded lamp gave a flicker of light in the darkness. She remembered where she was, but why was she here? There was something she had wanted to do, somewhere she had wanted to go, some task she had wanted to fulfill.
A story! She sat bolt upright in bed as she remembered. It was a manuscript of which she had been informed! She was to take a long journey to receive the rare document for the library of Minas Anor. Excitement flooded her heart and mind as the royal family’s chief loremistress pondered the significance of the adventure that awaited her. A translation from Entish – what a find! She could hardly wait for morning to come.
* * * * * * * * *
The story emanating from the manuscript is
Revenge of the Entish Bow.
[ January 08, 2003: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]