Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters, settings, or events I have taken from Tolkien's works. I just can't help writing about them.

A/N: I'm so sorry this has taken so long. I have had it written for a few weeks, but I kept realizing that I really did not know enough about healing, so I rewrote everything several times. Thank you for your patience, and I really will try to not take so long next time.

Thanks to LOTR-junkie, boo!, Samus, Katt, Eris, WeasleyTwinsLover1112, and KaterineKasdorf. You guys really do keep me writing.

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12) Healing

Quick footsteps announced the return of Lady Eowyn. Behind her entered a middle aged woman carrying a gray cloth satchel. Gray streaked her dark blond hair but her shoulders were unstooped by age.

The healer's face creased understandingly along well worn smile lines as she met Erin's frightened gaze. Erin stood up from where she knelt beside the cot and stepped out of the healer's way. Examining the wound quickly, the woman turned to Erin.

For a start, you have cleaned the wound well, young one. Her voice was low and husky. At the small sign of approval Erin nearly burst into tears.

I'm afraid I'm making him worse and I was scared that I was hurting him and his fever is rising so quickly and I couldn't get it to go down and he feels like he's burning up...

The healer cut off the near hysterical flow of words with a firm hand on Erin's shoulder. Hush. You have done what is in your power to do. Let me do what I can now.

Then she removed her cloak and set down the satchel. Drawing up a chair, she began to rinse the ugly gash and apply a salve drawn from her bag, her hands manipulating the cloth and ointment with much more surety than Erin had demonstrated.

Eowyn placed her hands on Erin's shaking shoulders and faced her squarely.

Simbel is an experienced healer, Fara. She will take care of him. Will you be all right, Fara? Eowyn's blue-eyed gaze was probing. Erin took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Come on, Erin. You can do this. Eowyn needs you to keep your head on your shoulders. Herubrand needs you. This is not the time to get squeamish or hysterical. Get a grip on yourself.

Erin squared her shoulders and opened her eyes.

I am fine, my lady. I will do whatever is needed. Eowyn smiled briefly and released her grip on Erin's shoulders.

Simbel was by this time bandaging Herubrand's side. Having secured the wrappings, she drew a thin blanket over his still form. Then she turned to Eowyn.

He should be moved to a tent nearby in the morning, my lady, for he needs quiet and you will need to use this tent to govern your people. Someone needs to be with him at all times until he recovers. Eowyn nodded.

I will find someone.

Erin looked between the two in confusion.

Will you not be caring for him, Simbel? The older woman shook her head.

Would that I could, my dear, but there is an outbreak of sickness among the children in the lower camp. They have more need of me.

Returning her attention to Eowyn, she added, I will return in the morning, my lady, to give instructions to whomever you find and to help move him. She shifted and began to gather her materials into her bag.

Eowyn spoke quietly. Thank you for coming, Simbel. Fara and I will watch over him until the morning. Is there anything we need to know before you take your leave?

Simbel pursed her lips as she placed the salve in her bag. Only to keep him cool. If the fever gets too high, wipe his face and chest with cool water. Hopefully, the fever will go down on its own. If he takes a sudden turn for the worse, you know where to find me.

She looked a moment at Lady Eowyn and Erin suddenly saw her mistress through older eyes, Simbel's eyes. Eowyn looked worried and tire, though she radiated authority.

But she was still so young, and subtle lines of strain played about her eyes. She had to only be in her early twenties. I guess we're not really that far apart after all...

Then the vision faded, and Erin saw again the Lady trusted to lead her people. Eowyn's face was calm and sure as she led Simbel to the door of the tent and bid her farewell. Turning, she walked back to the bedside and looked down at the wounded rider.

His face was flushed, flaxen hair limp against his damp skin. Eowyn tenderly brushed a lock of hair away from his face, much as she would for a younger brother. She met Erin's gaze.

Rest for a few hours, Fara. I will sit with him for now and will wake you when I feel the need for sleep. Go. She motioned toward her own cot.

Erin nodded, suddenly noticing how gritty her eyes felt. But she couldn't seem to move from the bedside. Her feet simply would not move independently, so she stood motionless at the sickbed. Eowyn rose and guided her firmly to the other cot.

Erin lay down and pulled the rough blanket up around her chin, relishing the heavy warmth it offered. Eowyn had not even reached the other cot again before Erin's eyes closed and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

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A cool draft of air brushed Erin's face and she slowly opened her eyes. It seemed that her eyes had only just closed, but she could tell from the burned down fire that several hours had passed.

Erin's eyes flickered to the empty stool by the other cot before coming to rest by the doorway, where Eowyn stood facing the night sky. Erin slid out of the bed, pushing the blanket back and swinging her legs to the floor. The packed earth was cool under her feet as she padded silently over to Eowyn's side.

As silently as an elf, Erin thought with a lopsided grin.

Then she straightened her face and said softly, Eowyn, I am ready to take a turn at the rider's side if you should wish to rest now. Eowyn turned slightly, her face taut and her crystal eyes shadowed.

He has not moved, Fara, but his fever is a little higher. I have let the fire burn low in hoped that the cool will help him. If you can get him to drink any water, it would be good.

The pain in Eowyn's voice touched Erin, and she suddenly remembered the stories she had heard.

Her cousin Theodred died in battle within the last few weeks. I forgot with all the excitement with Eomer and the travelers. He died from orc wounds, the women said, and they were not even able to get him away from the battlefield before he died.

They said he was very close to Eomer, like an older brother. Does Eowyn see in Herubrand her cousin, only this time with a chance?

Eowyn moved slowly to her own cot, stiff from sitting by the sickbed. Erin followed her.

Anything else, my lady? Eowyn shook her head tiredly.

No. Except, wake me in a few more hours. You need your rest.

Erin smiled slightly. Yes, my lady. Then she strode over to the doorway and secured it before turning to face the sickbed.

Herubrand's breathing was, for the time, steady. Though shallow, it had the slow even cadence of sleep. Under Erin's watchful eye, the rider slept in a fevered rest, and Eowyn's breathing soon slowed to match the rider's.