Chapter 20
"A Good Man's Help"
Torshar watched as her love was led back to the cottage and waited until they disappeared inside before letting her tears of agony fall. Her fists clenched into the soft soil that had absorbed the blood of her wounds. Gandalf and Beorn gently grasped the hilts of the knives that were embedded into her arms; the minstrel readying herself of the impending pain that was to come.
Gandalf's voice seemed distant as she fought for alertness, "On three… One… Two… Three!" the versifier's breath caught in her throat as fire lit up veins with the swift removal of the blades. The wizard was quick to seal the wounds, to the best of his ability, and Beorn wrapped them in strips of cloth.
"Gandalf…" she whispered shakily.
The grey wizard looked up, "Yes, Torshar?"
She smiled weakly, "I won't be getting out of this… Will I?"
Her question hung in the air like a thick fog had fallen as he contemplated his answer. Beorn looked from the performer's face to that of the conjurer; who appeared worried. He could see the unvoiced answer to the minstrel's inquiry; her survival was a low possibility.
"Rest assured, Lady Torshar, Gandalf and I will do our best to help you through this."
The vocalist reached her left hand up slowly to grip Beorn's arm, "Is the Faith Bringer still living in the forest near the Carrock?" she asked.
It took a moment for the skin-changer to recall but then nodded, "He does… Would you like me to fetch him?"
Nodding, Torshar gasped as her wound began to sting due to her movement, "Please… And hurry…" The master of the house nodded and quickly readied a horse then took off at break neck speed causing the wizard to look at Torshar confused but she had her eyes closed in quiet calmness.
A short ten minute horseback ride later, Beorn found himself at the door of Calyr, a Wood Elf who turned his back on Mirkwood and took refuge near the skin-changer's cottage. His home was carved into the trunk of a sturdy cedar tree with low hanging branches that could easily be climbed.
Before Beorn could dismount, the furnished door opened and a tall young man with brown and caramel eyes, dressed in brown leather boots, beige trousers, and an off-white tunic stepped out. At first he did not take notice of the neighbor but instead paid attention to the herb garden to the right of his front step. Only when Beorn's horse whinnied did he finally see the imposing giants.
"Master Beorn, what can I do for you?" he asked kindly.
"Forgive me for intruding, Calyr… But something has occurred at my home and I am in need of your healing services."
The Elf seemed confused for a moment, "What is it? Is someone injured?"
Beorn nodded, "Lady Torshar of Whurrak… I will explain as much as I can but you must hurry! She is running out of time!"
Without wasting any more time, the brunette dashed back into his home, grabbed his medical bag, loaded it with herbs and oils, clean bindings, a mortar and pestle, a small burner and stand, and a flask of water then returned back outside. The skin-changer reached a hand out to assist him which the healer accepted and swung himself up to sit behind the enormous man. With a crack of the reins, they were galloping back; hoping against hope that they were not too late.
Calyr's breath escaped his lungs shakily when he first gazed upon Torshar. When Beorn left, blood only pooled beneath the minstrel's behind. Now, the pool had increased to her ankles; the grass stained a menacing crimson red. The Elf carefully stooped down on her left, checked her pulse, and breathing rate; neither was very high.
"Can you help her?" a strong male voice asked causing the wizard, skin-changer, and healer to turn and find a distraught Fili and Kili.
Calyr gazed at them thoughtfully, "I will do all that I can."
Beorn stood, "Come… Let them work in peace, my friends." And he gently guided the brothers back to the cottage as they took one last look over their shoulders at the woman they considered an aunt.
"Torshar…? Torshar can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes." The healer stated to try and get a response. When he received none, he dug in his bag, set up the burner to which Gandalf lit, and pulled out a small bunch of Rosemary. Carefully, he lit the ends on fire then quickly blew it out so it was smoking lightly. He then gently swayed it in front of the unconscious woman's nose. After a few seconds, the versifier's eyelids began to twitch then they lifted to reveal tired and dull irises.
"Calyr…? Is that you?" she whispered.
The Wood Elf smiled, "Yes, old friend, it is I. Now, I have been informed of your predicament and I assure you that we will get through this together."
A weak smile appeared across her face as she nodded in understanding, "Do what you must, Calyr… I trust you with my very soul…"
Calyr smiled in return as he began to work on a salve of coconut oil, Witch Hazel, Lavender, and Aloe Vera. He placed all of it in the mortar, crushed it with the pestle, and then let it sit over the small flame. While it "cooked", the healer turned to Gandalf to explain his plan, "When the salve is ready and on my signal, I want you to pull the blade out. Then I will quickly administer it to begin the healing process." He hesitated for a few moments, "Mithrandir, who did this to her? Beorn told me she was attacked but did not disclose the attacker. Tell me… Was it one of the dwarves she travels with?"
The wizard hesitated, "You must understand, Calyr… There were extenuating circumstances-"
"There are no circumstances that forgive this kind of violence!" Calyr stated angrily.
Before either man could speak further, a gentle hand lay itself on the Elf's arm, "The man who attacked me was not himself… A dark curse possessed his mind… He had no control!"
"Alright, just calm down, Torshar. I will hear from both sides when you are on the mend." The healer then turned to the potion that was now steaming, "It is ready, Mithrandir." The magic wielder quickly moved into position by lightly grasping the knife's handle and awaited the command. Calyr gathered a bit of the salve onto his index and middle fingers of his left hand.
As he got into position, his right hand grasped the wounded woman's left, "Torshar, look at me…" when she did he smiled kindly, "Now, I want you to visualize your future in your mind. The happy future that we both know you are going to have… Slowly close your eyes and that picture in your mind…"
The image that appeared before her was of herself dressed in a white ceremonial gown with a semi-long train and matching veil, holding a bouquet of Polar Star white roses accented with blue thistle flowers. The headdress was that of a Meryl crown of silver with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and aquamarines; each representing a member of her family. She was standing in the throne room of Erebor at the beginning of the aisle that led to the throne itself. To her right stood her father who smiled happily and looped her right arm through his left then began to lead her down the aisle when a Dwarven wedding march started playing.
Torshar gazed over the infrastructure of the Mountain; it was as new as if the dragon had never attacked! At the end of the trek, dressed in his finest armor and crown upon his head stood her love, Thorin; Orchrist strapped to his side proudly and a smile plastered on his face. The bride could not help smiling as she walked ever closer to the future she desired.
But fate was a cruel mistress for when she reached the halfway point, a fire burning pain raced through her chest. The pain was crippling that she lost all ability to walk and slowly fell to her knees, clutching at the pain's center. Carefully pulling her hand away, the versifier found it smeared with blood. Her father dropped down beside her and Thorin, as well as the attendants, ran up with worried expressions.
When Torshar lifted her head to look at Thorin, it was not her lover she saw but that of Calyr who spoke to her, "Torshar, hold onto your future! I am nearly there but you must concentrate! Keep the picture in front of you! Do not lose it!" her vision the faded to black.
The moment Torshar became relaxed, Calyr nodded for Gandalf to pull out the knife. The wizard swiftly complied and the healer was fast to bury his fingers, with the salve, into the gushing wound. The second the salve touched the walls of the injury, Torshar began to pale and her head slowly started to sway, "Torshar, hold onto your future! I am nearly there but you must concentrate!" he cried and released her hand to grab a handful of Ginseng, crushing it in his frustrated grip and pouring it into the salve that was still in the mortar.
He swiftly pulled his fingers out, soaked them once more with the medicine then delved back in with a moan of pain from his patient, "Keep the picture in front of you! Do not lose it!"
"Mithrandir, soak the bindings with the Eucalyptus oil that is in my bag, please." The Elf requested as he reapplied the salve one more time then allowed the wizard to dress the wound just as the minstrel lost consciousness.
Calyr sat back on his rear, not caring that his trousers were covered in blood as he wiped his forehead clean of sweat with his sleeve. His gaze turned upwards to the now dark blue sky with a tinge of red still on the horizon.
He breathed a sigh, not of relief of defeat, but of hope for now it was time to play the waiting game, "Let us pray that she survives the night to come…"