There are some, among the Rangers, who fear the elvish treatment of wounds, the elvish healing that I so dearly wish to give them to heal their hurts. In one sense, they gnaw on my patience, wasting the precious minutes that are doled out so sparingly to us mortals, but on the other hand, I can understand their reluctance, for I have stood in their position one too many times to claim unfamiliarity with the bitter herbs and draughts that are commonly used. It is for this reason then, that I take the knowledge garnered from the master healer himself, and from his vast libraries, and have modified it. Modified it only slightly mind you, for the cures there are tried and true over so many yeni. Nevertheless, there are things that can be changed to improve the taste, to make the tea settle in a mortal's stomach, when an Elf would have no difficulties. Ai, if Elrond were to find out what I've done to his timeless teas, I think he would need one of his own to recover! My teas are not like his- not a torture required for healing, a thing to be dreaded. Nay, they are but healing teas still, but with a taste that will not have one's tongue curl in on itself in revulsion. The poultices to sooth burns, a nagging cough, they do not smell foul either, as did his. These, are pleasant to the scent, and are never the cold clammy things of my childhood past.
There are times though, when nothing but the oldest methods are effective, and some days I feel as though these are the cruelest, the most crude of ways. I am not such a fool though, to avoid these at all costs, whatever the price. There is wisdom, and there is foolishness, and I know the boundaries, even when the love in my heart fights my every action. Thankfully, though, it is rare that such actions are ever called for, and for that I am ever so grateful.
I must admit, there are times when fear clouds my mind, and I must pause a moment, refocus, and then begin my task again. It is terrifying, to hold a man's life in your hands, knowing that the slightest deviation could sever that invisible tie. It is not something that we often dwell on, and for a good reason. Often times, I wonder if having the hands of healing is the more difficult task when compared to wielding a sword on the field of battle. I have known both, but cannot decide. Then, there is the fact that one must face defeat, death, even if it was not their fault. It is a hard thing to admit when there is nothing that mortal or immortal healing could do. It racks the soul, to tell loved ones to share the last moments, but in some ways, it is not the last moments that are the hardest, but the silence in the night that comes afterwards. It is then that the emotions flood your mind, your heart anew. But, there is always morning… and new life.
The greatest joy in life, I think is to bring life into the world, to hear the squalls of the newly born, to watch as one thought near death stands and walks from his bed, to return to life. That, that one moment, one sight is enough to ease my heart from toll that death and despair tend to burden it with. To know, that with one touch of my hands, one word, I can save the lives that are so dear, that is worth the pain of anything else. To you Elrond, Adar, I owe you so much. The duty of a healer, that I understand know, when no book learning could have taught me, I understand now what you meant when we spoke in those quiet hours when I was confined to my bed. The knowledge you once tried to pass on to me, to even explain, I understand in my heart now. And that is all that matters.