Tivlyn knew she should try to sleep, and while the body was willing, her mind was not yet ready to settle, so she sought to help, to soothe minds and help heal what hurts she could. There was still quite a bit of kingsfoil among the supplies, so she requested some more, along with some chamomile, a bit more white willow bark powder and with it made some tea, sweet and refreshing smelling and tasting from both the herbs. She sprinkled a little of the white willow bark powder in, which would be bitter, but the sweetness of the kingsfoil would stand up to it, dull it.
Not wanting to deplete Ben's supply of honey, she asked around, able to get her hands on a small jar from one of the elves, who was one of the surviving archers from the earlier battle. Tivlyn waited for the tea to brew and cool a bit before she added a little of the honey. There was still a great honey left in the jar, but the elf, a rather eccentric sort who called herself Tree, had told Tivlyn to keep it. Tree looked rather like a walking autumn Aspen, golden leaves decorating her wild white hair.
Tivlyn had set aside a few kingsfoil leaves, and she crushed those and put them in the jar of honey along with the rest of the white willow bark powder she had requested, closing the jar and tucking it away in her pack. Then she took the tea, gathering some mugs and starting to divide the tea among them.
She offered tea to any in the camp who would accept a cup, the wounded especially. To Calenroch, she insisted he take some tea, that it would aid in his recovery and help sooth a troubled mind. To Alphlanc, the cup was offered with condolences, for the loss of her sister. To Barachen, the cup was offered with thanks for his hospitality and aid, and an apology for telling him to go braid his hair earlier.
Tivlyn took a cup to Meltharian on her watch, thanking Mel for watching over the camp, and told her the tea would help speed along the healing of her arm and any other hurts she had. Next, she offered a cup to Rothlung, telling him the same about the hurts, but also that she hoped the tea would help him remain in the here and now with them.
When she offered a mug of tea to Wittkun, the dwarf grumbled, eyeing the mug cautiously without taking it. "Pah, I need no elvish tea! Smells too fragrant to do much good. No doubt it will turn my dreams strange."
"Now don't be difficult, Witt. It ain't elvish tea, this here is a Locksley family recipe! I put it all together and brewed it meself. It'll help yer ribs and your head heal up quicker." Tivlyn insisted, holding out the mug.
Wittkun took the mug after a moment. "Well, since you went through the trouble, I will take it. My thanks, though I have no need of healing draughts." He bowed his head, taking a sip, and then another, blinking in surprise. "Rather refreshing, this."
"Aye, that'll be it working. Drink it all down, please." Tivlyn hugged him around the shoulders before she stepped away to get more tea.
She approached Benjenn, thinking he was sleeping again and meant to leave a cup beside him, but she saw that he was awake, staring up at the stars. She knelt beside him and he sat up as she offered him the tea. "Brought ye some tea. Kingsfoil, though the elves said the proper name is Athelas, chamomile, tiny bit of white willow bark powder, an' some honey. Didn’t swipe any more of your honey, got it from an elf. Healin' tea."
"Thank you, Tivlyn," Benjenn gave a sleepy smile as he took the tea, though the smile turned a mite mischievous, "though Teavlyn would be more fitting." He sipped the tea. "This is simply tea-riffic."
"Yer welcome. Get some rest, hopefully tomorrow will be a brew-tea-ful day." Tivlyn said, trying to look serene and not crack a smirk.
"Good weather would be well for the par-tea to set out to." Benjenn replied with a sage nod.
"Aye, but we'll have to kettle for whatever weather there is." Tivlyn sighed.
Nearby, Rothlung seemed to have had quite enough of their pun making, groaning and tossing a pine cone in their general direction.
Tivlyn huffed as the pinecone hit her shoulder. "That's a pine how do ye do. No amount of healin' tea is going to make him less surly. No appreciation for our refined comedy." She sighed as she stood.
"None at all." Benjenn chuckled. "Thank you again for the tea, it's working all ready."
Tivlyn winked, and stepped away.
When she offered a cup to Vratni, telling him that it would help with healing and to ease the mind, he took the mug eagerly, drinking deep. "Thanks, Locksley. Helps with healing and settling the mind, you say? I could do with both. I like the smell of this, very soothing indeed. You should have some yourself, and try to get some rest."
"I will soon, don't make a fuss." Tivlyn assured him, sitting beside him a moment.
Vratni eyed her hands, quickly looking away and clearing his throat before he took another sip of tea. "Speaking of fuss, that was quite some fuss earlier. Quite a battle! Sticky situation. Quite the to-do, what you did; the sparks, the fire. Did that hurt? Hurt you, I mean. Obviously hurt the spider!" He eyed the charred bit of ground where the spider had fallen before he glanced at Tivlyn.
Tivlyn shook her head, staring down at her hands, at the faint glow of the silvery threads swirling up them. "Didn't hurt, just frightened me. I didn't make it happen, it just...Happened. Don't like it."
Vratni frowned, finishing his tea before he reached and squeezed her shoulder. "You needed to defend yourself, and you did." He huffed, not unkindly. He withdrew his hand, stroking his beard as he looked toward the darkened treeline. “Think of it as a tool, Locksley. Useful, but temporary, not a part of you. You can set it down when you'd like. Also," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "anyone mention it?"
"I'm going to really focus on that, especially the setting it down part." She sighed, frowning deeply at his question. "Just Calenroch. In a wonder struck sort of way. Reckon he wishes he could go shooting fireballs at spiders."
"Ah, well can't say that I blame the lad, after what he's been through. No elves fussing about it?" Vratni asked as he looked about the camp.
"None yet. Hoping that means they won't, but it's been on my mind. Worried they might want to cart me off to Rivendell." She whispered.
"Don't trouble yourself too much on it, just enough to be prepared, should someone approach you about it." Vratni advised.
"Aye, that's the approach I'm taking. I'm going to give Daewen some tea and try to make sure she eats something before I try to sleep. G'night, Vrat. Get some rest." Tivlyn patted his back as she stood.
"You as well. Good luck! And thank you for the tea, I swear it's working all ready!"
Tivlyn stepped away, pouring more tea and taking a cup, along with a plate of what she could find to eat, to where Daewen sat leaned over, her head resting against her knees. "Daewen, I brought ye some tea, it's kingsfoil...Er, though I heard the proper name is athelas. Athelas, chamomile, bit of white willow bark powder and honey. To sooth the body and mind, speed up healing! Brought ye some food, too. Ye should eat. Ye forget to do that sometimes."
Daewen lifted her head off her knees only to give Tivlyn a one sided, forced smile. “Thank you, but I am well.” She closed her eyes again.
"Begging your pardon, but I don't believe that. You've been hurt badly, body and mind. So many battles in such a short amount of time, with blades and with words, and ye've endured horrible things. So please, at least have the tea, though ye should really eat something too." Tivlyn urged.
Daewen blinked at her, surprised. “Alright.” She reached for the tea with unsteady fingers, and drank slowly. It seemed to be a great effort for her.
Tivlyn sat down beside her, still holding the plate of camp rations. "Thank you. Want to lean against me while ye drink? Ye must be exhausted down to yer bones. Been a rough day for everyone, you especially."
Daewen set the empty cup down and suppressed a gag as she gave a shake of her head. “I am well.” It sounded more like an affirmation, like she was trying to convince herself instead of Tivlyn.
Tivlyn set the plate aside, placing a hand upon Daewen's shoulder. "Are you sure? You've been hurt, seen the bodies of friends, held a dying friend in your arms and had to tell her sister of her passing. Being sad, angry, both...You're allowed to feel those things. You're allowed not to be fine."
“I am not angry. I am sad, I am numb, and first and foremost I am tired. Exhausted in a way only immortality can bring. But I am well. I always will be.”
Tivlyn gave Daewen's shoulder a squeeze. "Ain't surprised about the exhaustion. May I give ye a hug? As thanks? Ye put out a lot of fires today. Getting the arguments to stop with the giants, getting Barachen to agree to let us leave."
Daewen sighed and then leaned into Tivlyn, melting like wax over a flame. “It is always the same. The story repeats, over and over again. Trust is broken. Lives are lost. They haunt me, as my mind finds neither relief nor release. And there is nothing that can be done.”
Tivlyn wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tightly, securely. "Can't ghosts feck off for a while, give the mind some peace?" She muttered, partly to Daewen, partly to herself as she moved to smooth a hand up and down Daewen's back. "Yer here, doing the best that ye can. That's all ye can do."
“They never leave. Even now I can hear them. My father. ‘Tilt up your chin, little butterfly, we do not feel sadness in this house.“ My cousin. ‘In this world, one must forge their own happiness.’ Even Elrond, ages ago. ‘History repeats, but every time, there is a little more light. Piece by piece, the future turns lighter.’ They spoke true. But there are also days where I cannot find the strength to try anymore. Where the sorrow weighs heavy; where I wish to close my eyes and simply fade to Mandos.”
"On those days, lean on your friends. We got strength enough to hold you up when your own strength fails. I want to help. Don't go fading away, Daewen. Mel and I are already outnumbered by those half mad blokes, we need you!" Tivlyn joked fondly as if she wasn't half mad herself!
“Leaning on friends is not easy when you know you will have to bury them, too. I will likely outlive everyone among the fellowship, aside from Meltharian.” Daewen chuckled. “There is one person I have reliably leaned on for centuries. The Lord Elrond. Do you see my predicament?”
"Don't mean we can't make a difference the short time ye have us in your life." She pointed out, sighing when Daewen mentioned Elrond, nodding. "Aye, that's quite a frustrating predicament. It's never easy when we don't see eye to eye with a friend, especially a dear one when ye've had for so long. Is he older or younger than you???"
Daewen chuckled again. “Younger, by some centuries. I shielded him for the longest time, as much as I could. But there came a time where-“ she hesitated “he insisted that I let him help.”
"Centuries!? He should mind his elder!" Tivlyn joked, before her smile turned sad. "I know that feeling. As much as a mortal can, I mean. With Warryn." She sighed. "I don't envy ye this predicament, reckon there's elven nuisances I can't even begin to understand. I'm sorry ye have to be at odds with someone ye care for."
Daewen smiled again, more genuine this time. “The centuries matter little now. They stopped mattering when he reached his first millennium.” Her expression turned sad. “He respects my age and experience, and draws on it. But- he worries that he will lose it, lose me. He has always called me reckless.”
"Can't fault him for that, just him forbidding ye to continue and threatening to send ye off on a ship iffin' ye did..." Tivlyn shook her head. "He can advise ye, sure, but in the end what ye do is up to you, ain't for someone else to go controlling your actions."
“He has often put me on house arrest if he saw it necessary, and while I would never admit it to his face, it was sometimes needed.” Daewen sighed. “Those words were spoken in anger. He would never force me to return on his terms, he cares too much. I believe… what he saw in my mind, in Rothlung and I, it truly scared him.”
"Understand a bit better now, twas so angry at him before. Knowing all that, makes the anger burn less bright. Just mildly irked now. And hoping we don't run into him for a while." Tivlyn admitted carefully.
"He has lost much in this life. His parents abandoned him. The men who raised him in their stead took their lives. His brother chose to live and die as a man. His closest friend and kinsman, the king, was slain in battle. His wife had to leave Middle Earth to find healing in Valinor, and now their daughter has made the same choice as his brother. We all have our stories, Tivlyn, our reasons for being as we are." Daewen was quiet for a moment, a silence heavy with memories. "I hope that before we meet him, we achieve something. So that he can see we were not wrong. Barachen will be a great help in that regard, I believe. Lord Elrond is a great fighter, and any enemy should fear his sword. But in his heart, he has always been more a strategist, a leader, than a true soldier. Not like Barachen, not like me. He does not understand. We carry war in our souls."
Tivlyn looked horrified at what Daewen shared about Elrond. She nodded after a moment, thinking over all she had heard.
She hoped the war ahead was one they could win.
"Even those with war in their souls must rest." She finally said. "Ye gave me much to think about. I'm going to have some tea and then try to sleep. Ye try and get some sleep as well. It's going to be a long day tomorrow. Or later t'day, not sure what time it is." She gave Daewen another embrace before she released her.
Daewen sighed one last time, before sliding to the floor. She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes, falling silent, but not yet asleep.
Tivlyn watched her a moment before she moved to finally pour herself some tea and sat on her bedroll a little apart from the main fires, where the light thinned into softer amber and the sounds of the camp dulled into murmurs. She sipped her tea, and stared into the dark between the trees.
The overlook no longer smelled of battle alone. Smoke from cook fires mingled with crushed pine and damp earth, the sweet smell of her tea, and underneath it all lingered the bitter tang of spider ichor that no wind seemed quite able to chase away. Tivlyn breathed out slowly.
She had patched wounds today. She had spoken with a giant as though they were neighbours met on the road. She had watched anger flare bright enough to start another battle and then, thanks to their joint efforts, and a great deal because of Daewen, had seen the ire die down again. Through it all, Tivlyn had kept moving, hands busy, mind focused, doing what she felt needed doing.
She lifted her gaze to the sky. The stars were sharp and cold, scattered like crystals across black cloth. She searched for Eärendil out of habit once more, and when she found that bright, steady point, her chest tightened. We’re still here, she thought. Somehow. We're going to keep going.
Faces drifted through her thoughts. Rochwen's marred face surfaced, the memory of it terrible, though Tivlyn had not known her. Still, loss had a way of spreading outward, touching everyone it passed near. She thought of Alphlanc’s composure cracking, of the way grief had slipped past discipline as easily as blood through bandages. No salve for that. Not really. Only time, which didn't heal it completely, only dulled it, lessened the sting.
She swallowed and shifted her grip on her mug.
Wittkun's snoring rolled faintly across the camp, ridiculous and comforting all at once. Rothlung’s songs, half curse, half promise, still clung to the edges of her mind. She thought of Mel keeping watch, and felt safer for it. She dwelt a moment on Vratni's worry for her, comforted by it. She looked to Daewen, who seemed to be sleeping now, and felt that she herself would be able to rest now. She thought of all Daewen had shared about Elrond, feeling her anger ebb. She remembered Arifael’s voice, deep as the earth itself, speaking words she hadn’t understood but somehow felt them settle into place inside her spirit, like stones laid carefully into a wall. She thought of Benjenn's soft chuckle, and his smile like sunlight.
Her gaze drifted back to the fires, to the shapes of elf and dwarf and man moving together in uneasy harmony for now. At first light, Barachen would go one way. They would go another. North, onwards to colder ground, toward foes whose numbers and location they did not know. The thought sent a shiver through her, not fear exactly, but the weight of choosing a road that didn't promise a way back.
Tivlyn finished her tea, setting the mug aside and leaned back, lowering herself to the ground until she lay flat on her back. The earth was cold through her bedroll, solid and unyielding. Good. She needed something solid beneath her.
“I know making it back home might not be possible,” she whispered to the stars, "but please, if it's in your design, let me keep getting up. Let my strength be enough to see me through this and see home again.” She lifted her hands, looking at the silvery threads. "Let this power that ain't my own fade swiftly from me."
She closed her eyes, not to sleep, not quite yet, but just to feel her breath moving in and out, to feel that she was still whole, still here. She thought of a song, though she couldn't remember where she had heard it, a lullaby perhaps, that her father used to sing, or uncle. Someone dear to her.
I know the rain like the clouds know the sky
I speak to birds and tell them where to fly
I sing the songs that you hear on the breeze
I write the names of the rocks and the trees
At last, sleep came.
