Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Journey of a Butterfly 2: Black as the Raven	By : Mel99Moe Category: -Fourth Age to Modern times and beyond > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1921 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3 - Rabbit Stew

The table was full at dinner that night. The house smelled divine with the lingering scent of thyme, and the guests anxiously awaited their meal. Terrwyn and Feredir sat on one side of the table with a place for their son between them. Curuven was next to Feredir with an empty chair on the opposite side, waiting for his wife to bring the meal and join him. At the far end of the table was Horphen and next to him, Rhawen. And across from Feredir and Terrwyn sat Commander Glandur and his mate, Antien.
Everyone was absorbed in their own conversations, giving Terrwyn a moment to glance around the table and appreciate her friends. It was wonderful to be surrounded by those she loved. She smiled to herself and reminisced as she glanced around the table.
Curuven had been the head healer in Ithilien when she first met him and Limil was his wife. They took Terrwyn in during a very trying time in her life. Falsely accused of a crime and summoned as a prisoner, they saw the truth and supported her until her name was finally cleared. Then they took her in and gave her a home. Curuven saw her potential and began training her as a healer. Terrwyn was a natural and enjoyed her work. Now that she was sufficient enough to manage the Healing House on her own, the elvish couple spent their days enjoying city life and each other. Occasionally, Curuven would help mix medicines or see to a patient who asked for him, but for the most part, he left the doctoring to Terrwyn.
Horphen and Rhawen … now that was a story in itself. Horphen and Feredir grew up together in Eryn Lasgalen, known as Mirkwood at the time. They bonded like brothers and were inseparable, even so much as joining the King’s army and enduring long hours of training together. They were battle mate’s once they officially joined the elvish army and fought against spiders, goblins, orcs and the occasional troll. Any time Feredir needed something, Horphen was there. Even now, they still watched out for each other. And when Terrwyn went through her trial in Rohan, facing the charges brought against her, Horphen was there when Feredir could not be. He was a true friend, and she was very glad of that.
Now that things seemed to be calmer during these new days of peace, Terrwyn wished Horphen would find someone, fall in love and enjoy what she and Feredir had, but he was happy being on his own, no ties to any one elleth … that was until he met Rhawen.
Rhawen lived in Eryn Lasgalen, worked in the kitchens, and in her spare time began learning about medicine. She had first met Horphen while she was on duty working as a wine servant at Feredir and Terrwyn’s wedding. They got along rather well right away and saw each other sparingly for a time. Rhawen realized that she was falling for Horphen and his kind and gentle ways. She had thought he felt the same since they had gotten along so well, but the relationship made no advancement beyond friendship. Sometimes he would go off on his own, and she would not hear from him for days, but when they bumped into each other, the conversation started up right where they left off, as if he’d never been gone.
Eventually, Feredir, Terrwyn, and Horphen left Eryn Lasgalen to return to Ithilien. A small group of wood elves joined them on their journey, deciding to relocate to the newly rebuilt city in Gondor. Rhawen had been among them, convinced by Terrwyn that she could help the elleth in starting a career with medicine. Once settled in the new city, Rhawen began to understand Horphen a little better. He was very much a gentleman, but he was also a flirt. Rhawen knew that he was nowhere near being ready to settle down or even have a meaningful relationship. He was happy being the center of attention with the elf women of Ithilien. Rhawen would not participate in such behavior though, and soon Horphen would seek her out when he just wanted to be himself, not the dashing bachelor that every elleth wished to tame. He was simple and sweet, unconcerned about keeping up appearances. He was … well, he was himself when he was with Rhawen, and even though he made no advances, she was glad for his friendship. She could accept that for the time being, but within her heart, she longed for him to return the feelings she had developed.
A couple years had passed, and during one of their visits Horphen seemed a little distraught. Rhawen asked him to explain. Feredir and Terrwyn had just announced that they were expecting their first child. Horphen was, of course, very happy for his friends, but something struck his heart like a knife, and he wasn’t sure why he felt that way. Horphen went to the only person he trusted with his personal thoughts, Rhawen, and through their discussion he realized that maybe a part of him envied the life that Feredir had made. Up until then, they had done everything together, but becoming a father was something that only Feredir could experience. Rhawen was wonderful and showed Horphen what he feared, not for losing his best friend, but for missing the opportunity to become a father himself one day.
All the talk of love, marriage and families, coupled with a bottle of heady wine, made the evening take an unexpected turn, and they went a little father than just conversation. Rhawen and Horphen had a beautiful evening together. He had made love to her throughout the night, gentle and giving. He was a wonderful lover, just the kind of ellon Rhawen had always dreamed of. She had hoped that this was the turning point for them, since he had never made such advances towards her, and she opened her heart to him that night, maybe a little too much, for she had admitted to falling in love with him as she fell into reverie.
Horphen panicked though, and when she awoke the next morning, he was gone without a word. She should have been angry, livid even, but she wasn’t. That night together, Rhawen had felt something from Horphen. She had felt the smallest part of his soul, and she knew deep down that he experienced it too, but he was too afraid to admit it. He’s just not ready yet, she told herself. Still, she would not play games. Rhawen would not wait for his heart to come around, nor would she follow him around like the other silly ellith, flaunting and batting long lashes just to gain his attention. She was much too independent and strong willed to sink to such low levels of confidence. And as wonderful as that one night with him had been, she would not give herself to Horphen again either, not until he was ready to commit himself to a relationship. Still, if it never happened again between them, at least she got to spend that one evening with him, and experience something that she was sure no other elleth had. Horphen had a loving heart hidden beneath his fake exterior. He was pretending to be someone that he was not, and until he realized that, she would be nothing more than his friend.
It was for this reason that Terrwyn was shocked to hear Rhawen tell the injured soldier from earlier that morning that she was spoken for. Rhawen had received many offers from the soldiers that came in for treatment, and she had turned most of them down without reason. Today, though, she had admitted that there was someone else, and Rhawen would never have admitted such a thing if something had not happened.
Terrwyn was hopeful that Horphen was finally coming around. He had matured quite a bit since returning to Ithilien, and taking up Feredir’s position as an army captain when her husband was promoted to Captain of the Guard. Perhaps Horphen was finally getting his priorities in order. Perhaps he was finally opening his heart and admitting his true feelings for Rhawen. They did make a lovely couple. They seemed to fit together so well, and were comfortable in each other’s presence. And Rhawen had stood firm and not let anything go farther than friendship between them. Whenever he fell back into his flirting ways, she stepped away. The last time it happened, he almost lost her for good, and it must have been like a slap to his conscience, because something about him changed. Terrwyn didn’t know what transpired between them, but it must have been a breakthrough for Rhawen to agree to a dinner date … with Horphen … alone. How wonderful it would be to see them finally together.
Terrwyn stirred from her thoughts of Horphen and Rhawen, as she felt a light tapping on her foot beneath the dinner table. Terrwyn looked up, and Antien was eyeing her peculiarly. Speaking with their eyes as they often found themselves doing, Antien glanced at the newly reconciled couple then back to Terrwyn with a questioning raise of his eyebrows. Terrwyn shrugged slightly in reply, as if to say she was not sure what was transpiring between them. Antien smiled and winked as if to say yes, their relationship was finally underway.
* * *
Over the years, Antien and Terrwyn developed a very close friendship. He had played a very important part in her life, though she had only begun to know him recently. As a child, she had met him on the steps of the Hornburg during the days of the Ring War. She and her brother were worried about their mother’s health after she had become unresponsive, leaving the children to fend for themselves while taking shelter at the stone fortress. Antien happened upon them, sang to them, told them stories and then gave each child a gift … an elvish dagger for her brother, and a carved wooden butterfly for her. Terrwyn was instantly enthralled with the elf, and never forgot Antien or the kindness of the elves. The butterfly became a symbol of hope and strength, and she kept it with her all the time. It was many years later when she met him again. He had not changed a bit from their first meeting, and though she was an adult, Antien remembered her also. Now that they had settled in Ithilien, Antien and Terrwyn were inseparable, as friends tend to be. Upon discovering that she was part elvish, he took time to teach her certain things that all elves should know, laws, songs, fables and histories. In return, Terrwyn taught Antien about being human and Rohirric, traditions of her people and the stories of the king’s from long ago.
Feredir nudged her knee and pointed towards the kitchen door as it slowly opened. Terrwyn smiled and grabbed everyone’s attention. The guests watched Norion, with Limil’s help, come out carrying a small pot of the delectable rabbit stew. Limil held the door open and waved a hand telling him to proceed. The little elfling walked slowly, one foot in front of the other, never taking his eyes from the heavy pot in his hands. It wobbled this way and that, a bit of stew splashing over the side. Feredir felt Terrwyn tense and ready herself to jump up and help, but he laid a reassuring hand on her thigh.
“Let him do it, Naru. It is his catch and his meal. He won’t drop it, I promise you that,” Feredir whispered to his wife. His soothing voice helped keep her from running to her young son.
There was room between Horphen and Antien where Norion could have placed the pot of stew, but instead, he went to the closest place, which was between Horphen and Rhawen. “Excuse me,” he said politely and the couple moved their chairs apart for the elfling. He struggled to raise the pot, and the bottom caught the edge of the table. Everyone gasped and cringed, prepared to see stew spill out over the table, but at the last second, Norion raised it just enough, and only a small bit spilled. The little elf was a bit out of breath, but he took a step back, straightened his shirt and clasped his hands together just as Limil had taught him. “Dinner is served,” he announced and everyone smiled and clapped.
Norion smiled from ear to ear, and he ran to Terrwyn. She wrapped her arms around him, and whispered in his ear. “You did a wonderful job. I am so proud of you.”
The little elfling stood up straight and turned to his father. “Limil said it was a fine rabbit, one of the best she had ever seen.”
Feredir ruffled his son’s auburn hair. “And I’m sure it will be the tastiest by far.” He helped the boy to his chair.
Limil emerged from the kitchen with a loaf of fresh baked bread and a carafe of wine. Then she sat down next to her husband and started passing the food to the guests. Soon everyone was eating, laughing and enjoying themselves. The stew was gone, the bread broken and shared. Now it was time for the guests to sit back and savor the sweetness of the red wine. The conversations broke into groups. Limil and Curuven discussed medicine with Rhawen while Horphen listened. Actually, he was studying Rhawen, and beginning to understand just how much she knew and understood. He saw how her face lit up as she talked about certain cases of illnesses or wounds. She was very intelligent, much more so than any other elleth he had ever been with. She hadn’t known it, but as he watched her, another little bit of his heart opened to her.
Glandur got up and asked Curuven to exchange seats so that he could sit next to Feredir. “We have a few matters of business to address. If you don’t mind—”
“No, no, of course not Commander,” Curuven said as he relinquished his seat to Glandur.
Terrwyn was sitting across from Antien, smiling as she watched her friend tell stories to Norion. The elfling was sitting on Antien’s lap, his eyes wide as he hung on the edge of every word. Terrwyn couldn’t help but remember the stories Antien had told her and her brother, Hathmund, as children. He made fighting and war sound almost romantic with all of his fanciful words for sword swinging and arrow nocking. The characters in his stories seemed to come to life and play out right in front of her eyes. He was doing the same thing with her son, and her heart melted as she felt everything come full circle.
Horphen must have finally become a little uninterested in the discussion of healing burn wounds. Terrwyn caught sight of him stretching his neck to listen to Antien’s story.
“. . . and then the trolls came,” Antien said quietly and stopped. Norion’s mouth hung agape as he waited for more, but it was Horphen who broke the silence.
“What did you do then?” he asked curiously, and realized he had spoken aloud. Antien, Terrwyn and even Norion turned their attention to Horphen, who seemed to darken to a nice shade of red. He smiled and sat back in his chair, “Oh … well, I … I just wanted to know … in case I should ever come across … some … trolls.”
Antien lowered Norion from his lap, setting the youth’s feet on the ground. “Horphen, would you mind entertaining the boy for a while so that Terrwyn and I might speak privately?”
“Of course not,” Horphen answered quickly, glad for the diversion.
“But what about the army of trolls, Antien?” Norion asked desperately.
“Oh now, that is another story in and of itself. Next time,” Antien answered with a warm smile.
“Come along, Norion,” Horphen interrupted. “Since you have made your first kill, you will have to mark your bow. Have you done that yet, lad?”
“No, I did not know,” Norion said surprised.
“Oh yes, every warrior marks his bow when he’s made a worthy kill,” Horphen guided the boy away from the dinner table as he continued telling him about the tradition.
Terrwyn watched them exit the dining room, her eyes smiling with the same joy she felt in her heart. Antien leaned back against his chair, crossed his arms and watched Terrwyn. She had come so far since he met her on the steps of the Hornburg so many years ago. He sat up, elbows firmly planted on the table, and regarded her with a gleam in his eyes. “So, did you enjoy your little reprieve earlier today? I noticed you were gone for quite some time. I’ve never known you to let Norion stay in someone else’s care for so long.”
Terrwyn slowly turned her head towards Antien, and observed the impish smile on his face. He knew exactly what kind of morning she had, alone with her handsome husband. She crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow. “So, now it is an army of trolls that you so bravely fought by yourself?” she questioned peculiarly. “I seem to remember that the story only had one troll, though he was as tall as a three story building.”
Antien put his fingers to his chin, and rolled he eyes upwards, contemplating. “Just one troll, really? Is that what I told you?”
Terrwyn narrowed her eyes, and held up her index finger as she mouthed the word one across the table.
With his head still cocked up towards the ceiling, as if in deep thought, Antien’s eyes rolled back down and settled on Terrwyn. “Well, it was a long time ago. What’s the difference … one troll or an army, as long as there are trolls in a story, right?”
She could contain a straight face no longer, and burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh Antien, you are such a sprite.”
The dinner guests switched partners as the conversations folded over each other. Antien was now speaking quietly with Rhawen, which caught Terrwyn’s eye. He was a self-renowned matchmaker, he had told her many times, but Terrwyn said he was just meddlesome. She gave him one of her wordless looks telling him to mind his own business. Antien answered with an arrogant smile, as if to say he would do as he pleased. She rolled her eyes just before Master Curuven turned to her, and she quickly gave the healer her undivided attention. Still, she could feel Antien laughing at her because there was nothing she could do to stop him from continuing with his matchmaking efforts.
“You have done a very fine job of running the Healing House,” Curuven commented. “You hardly need my help anymore.”
She thought there was a sense of sadness in his voice, and laid her hand on his arm. “You deserve this time with Limil. I’m beginning to realize what the life of a healer entails. There is hardly a moment to spare sometimes. And I still need you, Curuven, especially when there is a wave of wounded soldiers. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Rhawen is very talented. She helps you a lot during those rushes.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But I am glad to be there when I can.” His voice took on a slightly more serious tone. “Maybe you should consider hiring another healer’s assistant. Many hands make little work.”
Terrwyn smiled, but drew her brows together. “Rhawen is more than enough help, and as I said, when the healing house is overflowing, you always—”
She was cut off when Norion came flying into the room, calling excitedly. His auburn locks were flowing out behind him as he ran. “Nana … Ada, look what Horphen helped me do!”
Feredir looked up from his discussion with Glandur, and Terrwyn turned from Curuven. Norion came running up to them, standing between them where they sat at the table. He held his small bow in his hands, a replica of his father’s bow, and made by Feredir when Norion was still just a babe in arms.
“What have we here?” Feredir asked as he took the bow and examined it.
Norion smiled proudly and waited for comments while his father pointed to the carving. Terrwyn watched the exchange between father and son. There was no denying their likeness. “Is that a rabbit?” she asked and Norion nodded, but it was his father’s approval he waited for.
“Of course it is a rabbit,” Feredir said, and he gave Terrwyn a wink. Actually, it was difficult to tell what it was, but it was done by Norion’s own hand and that was the important thing. “You have done a fine job today. You have made your first kill, supplied your family with food and carved your first notch. There is not a father in Ithilien prouder than I am.”
“Does this mean I do not need the blunt tips anymore?” Norion asked anxiously.
Terrwyn opened her mouth to protest, but Feredir reached out and laid his hand on her knee. His eyes met hers and they spoke silently. He was asking her for permission, and though she felt it was indeed much too soon, she gave in. The corners of her eyes softened, and a humble but hesitant smile curved her lips. Terrwyn gave her husband a subtle nod of her head, and his eyes turned back to Norion.
“No more blunts.” Feredir barely got the words out before Norion leapt up and down with excitement. “But,” the black haired elf went on, “You must learn the responsibilities of an archer. What you have in your hands now is a deadly weapon, no longer a training tool.”
Norion stopped bouncing and regarded Feredir. “I will be very careful, Ada.”
The seriousness of his tone took Terrwyn by surprise. Norion was so young. He should be playing with his friends, chasing bugs or catching frogs, but here he stood looking so much like his father, wanting nothing more than to make him proud. The boy’s drive was strong. Yes, she thought to herself, he will be a warrior … a great warrior at that. She sighed as she thought about it, and knew that from this day forward she would never stop fretting for him.
Norion darted off to put his weapon away properly. Terrwyn leaned towards Feredir and kissed his cheek. He smiled lovingly at his adored wife. “Feredir,” she cooed. “Our next child will be a healer.” Though she spoke sweetly, he heard the tinge of insistency in her voice.
As Horphen took his seat next to Rhawen after returning with Norion, Limil came back from the kitchen and stood next to Curuven. She smiled, closed her eyes and nodded, which prompted him to stand alongside his wife. The conversations around the table slowly faded to silence as everyone brought their attention to the couple.
Curuven was very tall and lean. There was always the hint of contentment in his blue eyes. He was a master at his occupation, and not just because of his title. People trusted him. Terrwyn had seen Curuven give the same careful attention to his patients, whether it was a scared youth or one of Ithilien’s fiercest soldiers. The only thing that mattered most was the person who needed his care. They became the center of his world if for only a brief moment. Now, instead of patients, it was friends whose attention he held as he and his wife stood looking around the dinner table.
“Well, as you know, Terrwyn has taken over as Mistress Healer, and though I have been hovering around, I’ve come to the realization that she has come into her own.” He stopped to look at Limil, reaching for her hands. Terrwyn saw Curuven differently. He was always in charge and confident, but now he was looking to his wife to help him find the right words to say to his guests. He was hesitant to go on, but Limil’s kind and loving smile helped him remember why he was making this speech in the first place. “Limil and I have made Middle-earth out home for many ages, but we feel it is time to answer the call and sail.”
There was a low rumble, as the guests protested disbelievingly, and Terrwyn was the first one to speak aloud. “No, Curuven, you cannot go now.” She shook her head, and glanced around the room, “But what about the Healing House and your home. And what about … and … and … well, you just can’t!”
Curuven gave her a genuine smile, “And why can’t I?”
Terrwyn was surprised by his response. Did he not know? She raised her hands and gestured to the guests around the table. “Because we still need you, that’s why? Feredir and Commander Glandur speak of trouble growing.” She gave Feredir a troubled look, “And you know Feredir will not stop sending his men to the borders until there is at least a house full of injured elves and men in the waiting room.” Then she snapped her head towards Horphen and gave him bitter glare. “You can be sure that Horphen will be among the wounded.”
“Hey!” Horphen retorted. “I’m not always getting injured.”
“Oh really? And I suppose that was not you who came after the last fight with a sprained ankle. I must have hallucinated the last three scuffles, when you came to me with a gash to your side, a bump on your head that almost split your skull, and a cracked rib. Really, Horphen, it is no wonder that you and Feredir are so close. You both have a tendency to find trouble without escape of injury.” Terrwyn stopped to catch her breath and Antien spoke up.
“Terrwyn, don’t you think you’re over exaggerating?”
She rounded on her friend, “Don’t you start with me also. When the borders are quiet, it is your patrons from the bar that keep my business afloat; brawls breaking out in the middle of the night, and I and Rhawen disturbed from our sleep because someone cheated at a game of darts.” Terrwyn turned her attention back to Curuven, and her eyes switched from punishing shards of emerald to pleading tones of peridot. “And every time, you have been there when things became hectic. Honestly, I do not know what I would do without you.”
Curuven looked around the room with the same unfaltering smile. “Will you all excuse Terrwyn and me for a moment? We have something to discuss.” He looked to Limil and gave her a wink. “Now would be a good time to bless our guests with your talents, my love.”
Limil gave him a befuddled look, and Curuven laughed to himself. It was not often that he caught her off guard, but it was a precious sight when he did. “Your sweet rolls, dear,” he said.
Limil instantly understood and rose from her chair, “Yes … yes, of course, sweet rolls. I almost forgot.” She rushed to the kitchen, the skirts of her white dress chasing her through the door.
Curuven extended his hand to Terrwyn and she accepted. He nodded to the present company, and led Terrwyn out of the dining area and down the hallway. At the end were two doors. One was Terrwyn’s old room, now occupied by Rhawen. The other was Limil’s personal writing room, where Curuven led Terrwyn now. She hadn’t been here for quite a long time, but it still looked the same as it always did. Shelves full of books lined two of the walls. A fireplace, which held a stack of fresh cut wood, centered another wall, and two plush chairs sat on each side of the hearth. Terrwyn could smell the sharpness of the pine and thought of Limil sitting by a comforting fire writing in her journal. Across from the doorway was a window decorated with sheer pale yellow curtains, and an ornate writing desk situated beneath it. Terrwyn remembered seeing the desk for the first time, years before when she first came to live with Curuven and Limil. She had always admired its uniqueness with its legs carved to look like tree trunks, and the inlayed elvish design on the top of the table. Curuven went to the desk, leaving Terrwyn standing by the door. He ran his hand along the smooth top, and traced a finger over one of the unending curves of the inlay, while a smile spread so wide that it touched his eyes.
“Limil’s favorite place to be is right here at this desk. No matter what is happening anywhere else, this is where she is content. This is her place.” Curuven turned back towards Terrwyn. “The healing room is to you, as this desk is to Limil … the place where you belong, where you are yourself, and you are confident.”
“I know, Curuven, and I feel that sense of security and fortitude, but it is because I know you are not far from me that I feel this way.”
“I have nothing to do with that. It is all you, Terrwyn.” Curuven stopped speaking, and went to one of the bookshelves to retrieve a leather-bound book. He opened it and his eyes skimmed over the smooth pages. “Limil writes down all of the stories and facts that she hears. Some of her books are filled with nothing more than scattered words and partial sentences. To me, it is nonsense, but to her they are little visions that she can recall upon for her stories. As soon as she hears something, she is jotting it down. And do you know why she does that?” He paused, but did not wait for a reply before continuing. “She does it because she cannot go back and ask someone what they just said. If she forgets, then those little bits of inspiration are gone. There is no one for her to call upon. She must remember and do it herself.”
“And you are saying I must do the same thing,” Terrwyn said as she contemplated the hidden meaning behind Curuven’s story.
“I am saying that you do not need me anymore. Your knowledge of medicine is vast, and you are learning something new every day. You do this without my help, and you will manage the Healing House without my help also. You did so today, from what the others have said. ”
Terrwyn didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Apparently, word had already spread about the incident with the Ithilien soldiers and the Haradrim prisoners. “Well, I couldn’t very well let a bloody brawl break out in my waiting room, so I simply put a stop to it.”
There was a snicker at the door to the writing room. Terrwyn rolled her eyes, and without turning to look, called out, “How long have you been standing there, Antien?”
The auburn haired elf slid through the doorway, bright hazel eyes dancing in the candlelight. Somehow, he still made Terrwyn’s breath hitch when he appeared. He was beyond handsome; he was magical, and his smile made her heart melt.
“It was more than that, Terrwyn,” Antien said, picking up the story. “You jumped up on the table and waved Feredir’s sword over their heads. You threatened to calm them by castration if they did not listen to what you had to say. I was told it was really quite amazing to see. Every man, friend or foe, was mesmerized by the Rohirric woman with long flowing red hair, flashing her silver sword and threatening their manhood. You earned their respect, and some still fear you.” At this last comment, Antien laughed.
“My point is,” Curuven interrupted. “You took charge at a time when you knew there was no one to help. You have been ready to take over the Healing House for a long time now, Terrwyn. It has not run itself for the past few years, and I have not intervened that often. As I have told you already, you do not need me.”
Antien put his arm around her shoulder, and she let out a sigh. Somehow, she had known this also, but she just didn’t want to admit it. The fact was she would miss Curuven and Limil. They had been so kind to her ever since first meeting them, and they had grown very close. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to strike out at everyone. I think I was just taken by surprise. I did not expect you to make this announcement tonight. Well, it’s not that I didn’t know. I felt a shift in your demeanor, Curuven. I just didn’t think it would be now.”
“I felt the call a very long time ago. Limil has always felt the pull of the sea, but we do love this land. It is why we have lived here for so long, but now, the tides are strong and we must go.” Curuven spread his arms, his white robe opening like a curtain. Terrwyn went to him, and wrapped her arms around his lithe frame. Curuven held her as a father might do for his child, resting his cheek on top of her head. “You are the Master Healer of Ithilien now. You have been for some while. I see such determined strength in you, Terrwyn. You have always had the heart of a healer. From the very first day you stepped through my door, I felt it within you. This is your House now, completely.”
Curuven released her and stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “But,” he said in a long drawn out tone, “if you are that adamant about an extra pair of skilled hands around here, I could call upon Remlas. I don’t think he would mind coming to Ithilien.”
“Remlas?” said Terrwyn, confused and surprised by the suggestion. “He is the last person that I would expect to come to Ithilien.”
Terrwyn and Feredir had lived in Mirkwood for a while. There, she was introduced to the Master Healer, Remlas, an elf wise with age, but stubborn and set in his ways. After a grueling interview, the old elf healer decided to take Terrwyn on as his apprentice. She learned a lot while under his teachings, and in the end, they had bonded as student and instructor. She had hoped that they could stay in touch through correspondence, but she’d never heard from him after leaving Mirkwood. It wasn’t surprising though. Remlas was a very private person who liked to keep to himself, which was why it came as a shock to hear Curuven mention his name.
“I would dearly love to meet him again,” Terrwyn said. “But I would not want you to call upon him. Besides, Remlas would not be comfortable anywhere except in Eryn Lasgalen.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “No, I am ready to take on Ithilien’s sick and wounded on my own.”
Terrwyn smiled and elbowed Antien, who stood beside her. “And I must admit, it felt good taking charge of that room full of rebellious men. I have not taken up a weapon in a very long time. Perhaps I should practice with my throwing knives again.”
“Seems like a conflict in interest, don’t you think?” Antien chortled. “Warrior and healer? Your waiting room will never be lacking of patients.”
Terrwyn raised a cynical brow. “Your ruffian clientele already keep the room well occupied.”
“I provide the city with a clean and well stocked place where men and women alike can be free of their inhibitions,” Antien argued.
Curuven interrupted Terrwyn and Antien by clearing his throat, and taking hold of her hand. He smiled warmly. “Perhaps we should get back to the others. They’ll be wondering where we have all disappeared to.”
“And I think you better speak with Horphen, my dear,” Antien added. “You were a little harsh on him, and I don’t think he’s used to your outbursts as the rest of us are.”
“I’ll let that little comment slip by me … for now,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the elf. “You are lucky you’re my friend, and that I love you dearly.”
Antien smiled and kissed her cheek. “And I love you too, my fiery little Rohirrim. Now, let’s get going before there are no more sweet rolls left,” he said, and rushed down the hall.
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Journey of a Butterfly 2: Black as the Raven