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Old 04-15-2004, 12:48 PM   #237
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Benia

As they arrived in front of the great house, Benia saw Lady Léspheria rush out to meet them, carrying a satchel of herbs with her. She felt the tension she carried in her shoulders relax slightly at the sight of the healer, but still Benia could not cease to be afraid for Dúlrain until she knew within her heart that he would recover. Dismounting, she watched as the elves of Dúlrain's escort delivered him into the Elven lady’s arms. Hurrying to Dúlrain’s side, Benia found one of the Ranger’s hands and folded it tightly between both of hers.

“What happened to him?” asked Léspheria. The elf’s gray eyes took in the ranger’s wet, blood-soaked clothing and the makeshift bindings that had been ripped from the hem of Benia’s skirt with a glance.

“He was wounded by orcs in the Lone Lands some five days hence,” answered Benia softly. “Kaldir did his best to rush him here, but the way has been rough. We were forced to cross the river just above the falls. I fear it may have been too much for him.” The hint of a sob found its way into Benia’s voice. “Please say you can help him.”

Léspheria gave Benia a searching look, which made the southern woman feel suddenly self-conscious, crouched there on the ground in her torn, muddy dress, the kohl smeared around her eyes. Under the gaze of the beautiful Elven lady, she felt more like a mongrel than ever. A hot flush rose up in Benia’s cheeks, but her grip on Dúlrain’s hand only tightened.

“Benia...” murmured Dúlrain, his eyes flickering open for an instant before landing on Benia‘s face and closing again.

Léspheria’s gaze softened.

“He’s lost a good deal of blood,” she said gently. “Until I remove the bindings and take a close look at the wound, I cannot know how badly he is hurt, but he is strong. If he could make it this far, I’m sure his chances are good.” Reaching out, Léspheria touched Benia’s wrist. “Fear not for him, lady,” she added more softly, her voice strangely touched with emotion.

Benia nodded and, feeling hopeful for the first time since Dúlrain’s collapse on the riverbank, reluctantly released his hand as two elves lifted him to carry him to the halls of healing. She jogged along behind them as the two elves moved swiftly through the great house that had once been home to both Elrond and Queen Arwen Evenstar, but the beauty and wonder of the place was lost on Benia as her only thoughts were for Dúlrain. Ahead of her, she could hear him muttering and crying out on occasion in what she could only assume was delirium, once calling out clearly for Kaldir. A few minutes later, she heard, “he loves her...”, then “...never be mine...” Her dark eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Just then, the elves bearing Dúlrain turned into a softly lit room, where they laid the injured man down on a waiting bed. Léspheria, who had been walking a few steps behind Benia as they moved through the halls, slid past her now to a table near Dúlrain’s bed and began to lay out the herbs from her satchel. Neither wishing to leave nor to get in the way, Benia hung back against the wall next to the door, watching nervously as the elves who had carried Dúlrain began to cut the bindings away from his wound. Hugging her elbows, she slid down the wall until she sat on her heels, her long, black braid pulled forward over her shoulder. Her dress still wet from the river crossing, she shivered, feeling suddenly very cold and very alone.

Benia had never been in the presence of many elves in her lifetime and certainly had never experienced any place like Imladris. She had been so focused on getting there for Dúlrain's sake that she had not given any thought as to what would become of herself when the time came. Now that Dúlrain had been safely delivered in to the hands of the healers she had sought, she found herself feeling very intimidated and overwhelmed. If only Gilly were there with her.

Gilly! Benia realized with mounting horror that she had been so intent on saving Dúlrain that she had simply ridden off and left her best and dearest friend in the world to her fate on the battlefield. All she could do was hope and pray with all the strength in her heart that Gilly had made it into Imladris unharmed. If anything ill had befallen the little hobbit lady, Benia knew she would never be able to forgive herself and would carry a burden of guilt for the rest of her life. And Kaldir, too... Remembering the way she had behaved on the riverbank toward him, Benia felt a spike of shame. She could see now that it was through his sheer determination and bravery that any of them had made it even as far as the stair, yet she had had the nerve to turn on him and fairly accuse him of trying to murder Dúlrain. She remembered the expression that had flashed across his scarred face as the words left her mouth. She might as well have driven a knife into his chest. If only he could find it in his heart to forgive her. She had been so frightened.

Reaching up, Benia brushed a single tear from the corner of her gemlike eyes.

Last edited by Ealasaide; 04-16-2004 at 08:01 AM.
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