THE HEART OF A HEALER
By Tangelian Proudfoot



***

Authors Note:

I dont own any of the characters or places, they are all property of the Tolkien Estate, except for Tari, her horse Trifas and some minor characters over at the Prancing Pony, who were not mentioned in The Lord of the Rings. I dont make any money or profit whatsoever from my writing, I write simply because of my love of storytelling and the Lord of the Rings.


See my bio for further information on this story.

*Lots* of thanks and hugs to all of my proof readers!

***

1. The Messenger and her Horse

She pulled her cloak more tightly around her, shivering a little, and took a small sip from the cup clasped in her hands. The warm liquid felt soothing going down her throat, preventing the cold from creeping into her very bones.
Heavy clouds shielded the sun, and a cold, damp wind blew from the north. The grass and the few remaining leaves of the trees were all covered in moisture.

She sighed slightly and moved a little closer to her small campfire, trying to warm her hands. She had to be on her way soon; the weather was turning foul again, and she must make it to the woodlands before the evening fell upon her. Two days ago, another storm had forced her to seek shelter long
before the sunset, and she could not allow herself to become further delayed. If her messages were not delivered on time, she would most likely be punished. As a messenger, she was under the protection of the council of her village, and if someone laid hands on her, he would indeed suffer the consequences of his crime. But it was also the village elders who made up the rules for her, and if she broke them, there was always the risk that they would relieve her of her duties and send her away to live in the forest as an outlaw.

***

In a sense, she already was an outlaw. No one knew who her real parents were; her human foster parents, an elderly couple with no children of their own, had found her in the forest as a newborn child, and there had been signs of a battle of some kind nearby, but they had seen no traces of other humans.

Growing up in a small village, shed soon become aware of how different she was from the others. Her vision was sharper, her ears could hear sounds that no one else seemed to pick up, she needed very little sleep to feel rested, and her movements were swifter and lighter than most other peoples. She also appeared to age slowly, and shed not been fully grown until she reached her thirties, though shed always been a bit taller than people of her age.

Another thing that was curious about her was her talent for singing, which seemed to have sprung out of nowhere, since neither her foster parents nor any of their friends had possessed any skills in music. She, on the other hand, had always had tunes and melodies playing inside her head, and no matter whether
she felt happy or sad, she had a song for every occasion.

Naturally, others had also been aware that there was something strange about her. Shed never had many friends, though most of the people of her village treated her with respect and kindness. Outsiders, however, had often seemed suspicious of her, for reasons shed not been able to understand. Many times it had almost felt like people were afraid of her. At times shed even thought that she could sense this fear in her own foster parents, especially in her foster father, though theyd always treated her like she was their own daughter.

Shed always had a good hand with animals though. No matter what kind they were, they all appeared to adore her, from their very first meeting. Cats purred, nestling themselves around her legs, and urged her to stroke them; dogs threw themselves down in front of her so she could scratch their bellies, and even the wildest horse behaved like a gentle lamb when she was near.

Of course, shed often wondered about her origin and her real parents. Did they abandon her? Or were they dead? What had they really been like, and looked like?
But she was well aware that those were questions that never, ever would be answered.

Since her foster father had worked as a message sender and receiver for the village council, it hadnt been unusual for strangers from all over the country to visit their house. Curious of the outside world, shed sometimes hid herself in the kitchen pantry, trying to observe the visitor through a small peep hole in the wall, and figure out what kind of messages he was delivering.

But one evening, when shed happened to be the one closest to the door, and therefore answered the knock, shed found a very odd-looking man standing outside. Shed never seen anyone who even distantly resembled him. Hed been very tall and slender---so tall that hed had to bow down a bit to fit in under the roof. Hed had long, thick black hair; the fringe loosely twined into two braids, sealed with blue glass pearls. His skin had been white and fair, and hed had big and almost stunningly blue eyes, and a beautiful, masculine face with high cheekbones. Hed looked young, but yet... wise and composed, in a way that had somehow made him appear much older.

Though hed obviously been traveling far, his clothing, a cloak of an unusually beautiful fabric that almost seemed to change colour from green to brown to dark grey as he moved, had hardly been stained at all. A sturdy bow had hung over his left shoulder, decorated in a beautiful detailed pattern of leaves and branches.

For a moment, she had just stood there, frozen, looking at him with wide eyes.
Hed spoken to her in a melodic, almost singing voice, asking for her father. Wincing, shed finally been able to take her eyes from him and hurried into her foster fathers study. As soon as her foster father had made it to the door, shed quietly slipped into the kitchen and the pantry, her eye against the peep hole.

The stranger now stood in the hallway. Suddenly shed noticed something else about him and had almost had to suppress a gasp. His ears... they didnt look... theyd reminded her of a cross between the ears of an animal and a human; slightly pointed, but yet, very delicate... like the shape of a leaf...

Shed felt herself strangely drawn to him, but on the other hand, hed frightened her. Shed wanted to know everything about him---who he was and why he had come. For a moment, shed realised, it had felt almost if he had come for her... thered been such a strange air about him, but yet... something that had felt... very familiar, in a sense, like something shed always known, but yet, never seen. Shed been able to hear her heart pounding when shed pressed herself against the wall, trying to figure out what the stranger had on his heart. Despite her sharp ears shed not been able to make out every word they were saying. It had appeared, however, that the stranger had been concerned about something that had to do with the travelers of the North and East Roads. Hed brought no written messages, but hed asked many questions. Had the numbers of messengers dropping by increased during the later years? What were their errands? Had her foster father noticed anything strange about them?

Gradually, her foster fathers voice had grown louder, and it had been obvious that he was becoming suspicious of the messenger and wanted him to leave as soon as possible. Yes, hed confirmed that the numbers of messengers had increased lately, but also the variety of their errands. Hed not been
able to tell if anyone had been acting strange or not.

Shed never seen her foster father act that way before. Steady as a rock, the villagers used to call him. He had never lost an argument, and shed thought that nothing in the world could ever frighten him. Yet it was obvious that hed been downright scared of the man in front of him.

"Now," hed said, annoyance in his voice, "I can understand your concern and I appreciate it. However, with all due respect, the only true stranger who has entered this house during my years in the service is you, young man. And I beg your pardon, but it is getting late, and therefore, I beg you to go. You have nothing to do here. We people of the Chetwood are perfectly able to defend ourselves, without any need of your witchcraft. Leave it for those of your own kind."

Witchcraft? Her heart had now been beating so hard that shed almost found it hard to breathe. Why did her foster father talk in such a manner?

The stranger had given him a long and somewhat disappointed look. "Very well, hed said, moving toward the door. "I am sorry, but we only wish you the best. As you are aware, we do not often speak with men, but this matter will be of utmost importance for both of our kinds, and we had hoped for a messenger alliance. However, your opinions are clear to us, and we will not disturb you again unless you change your mind with the passing of time. Farewell."

Then the stranger had turned around and headed for the door.
But when hed passed by the outer wall of the pantry, he had lifted his eyes for a brief moment, looking straight at her, as if there had been no wall between them.

Gasping, she had thrown herself at the pantry door without even giving a thought to the fact that her foster mother might have entered the kitchen while she was locked in. Shed run to the window just in time to see the stranger approaching his white steed, which had been waiting for him in the garden. With a swift leap hed jumped up on his back and then they had taken off, galloping into the forest, his black hair flying in the wind. It was not until now that she had realised that the horse had neither had a saddle nor a bridle. The stranger had controlled him only by his sheer will.

When the spell had passed, she had turned around slowly, to find her foster father standing behind her. "Father," shed said in an almost whispering voice, "What... who was that?"

"That, my child, was an elf... a strange kind of being, worshippers of witchcraft and wizardry, living in the depths of the forest," her foster father had answered in a low voice, unable to hide that he still felt a bit shaken. "They have no business around here, and this was hopefully the last time you will see one."

But she had been unable to respond. Suddenly everything had fallen into place. Somehow, she had always known...

"Father," shed said after a few moments of silence, trying to keep her voice steady, "It is late now, and I think I had better go to bed."

As soon as shed entered her room and closed the door behind her, she had sunk down on her bed, gasping. She had then lifted a trembling hand, slowly brushing back her chestnut brown hair, and let her fingers follow the line of her ear.

It could not be seen from a distance. But there was no doubt, shed been able to feel it now, under her fingers _ a small edge, a sharp point before the ear turned downward again. Both ears were the same. Somehow, she had always known.

Shortly thereafter shed gradually became aware that she possessed another gift.
It had all begun with her beloved cat falling ill. One day he had come home limping and in severe agony. However, no one had been able to find the real cause for the pain, and hed just grown worse each minute. Finally, her foster father had told her that they had better put an end to his misery, allowing her a last moment alone with him. But when she had sat there, stroking the gasping, shivering cat huddled in her knee, her tears dripping down on his fur, a strange feeling had risen within her. Like a wave of compassion... so powerful that it almost had made her cringe in pain, rushing through her veins, all the way out to her fingertips... leaving a tingling sensation behind. And suddenly... an image had painted itself in front of her inner eye. There was a knot... a large, subcutaneous knot, filled with pus, pushing at the cats abdomen...

At her touch the cat had stirred, opening his eyes, and given her a demanding, yet utterly grateful look. It was obvious that his pain had already eased a little, and it had all felt so natural to her, like this was something she used to practice every day.
But she had also known what she had left to do.
Retrieving the largest needle she could find, shed put her hands on the cat again, and without any hesitation, shed applied the needle, feeling it penetrate his skin. It had been the very right spot, and the cat had not even winced. When shed removed the needle again, pus had been trickling from the wound, soiling his fur and her dress. The cat had visibly relaxed at once, stroking himself against her hands in gratitude. Within a few hours hed fully recovered.

She had soon become aware that this new gift was not limited to animals. Observing messengers from her hiding place in the pantry, shed often known what the person had on his mind even before he stated his errand, though she hadnt seen him before. And there had also been other things... if she closed her eyes for a moment and focused a bit, she was able to receive pictures... as if shed opened up a peep hole right
into his head. It had seemed that whatever weighed heaviest on the messengers mind---even if it did not concern the message itself---generated the sharpest picture. Sometimes the pictures had been downright frightening, and theyd not always been easy to interpret. However, they had often been visions of his inner pain, concerns, and sufferings, and from the nature of the pictures, shed also been able to tell if he was good or evil of heart.

Most often, the vision had filled her with the most powerful feeling of compassion and a desire to lay her hands on the person; touching him, to help ease the pain.

A few times shed actually tried it with her foster parents, who were now getting old, and to her concern, more fragile with each passing year. Shed been able to reduce the pain in her foster mothers aching back on several occasions and often used her abilities to find out what was on her mind, but shed been a little more careful with her foster father. He, as most of the other villagers, had always been skeptical about witchcraft and wizardry (which was, probably, the term he would use to describe these skills) and the thought of his own foster daughter using such methods would have been unbearable to him. Shed suspected though, that her foster mother had probably been aware that she possessed healing skills above the ordinary, but as usual, shed kept quiet about it.

She had never been afraid of her gift. Since shed always known she was different, it was obvious that this was a skill she was meant to possess. She had tried to find out more about the elves and had often taken long walks or rides in the forest with her young horse, Trifas, but theyd never seen any traces of them.
And since the books of the village library had nothing on the subject (which was not the least surprising) the strangers visit a few years back was the only clue she had had to the nature of her ancestors.

Another couple of years passed and by now she had realised that the elfs concern was probably justified. The number of messengers passing by their house *had* indeed increased, and shed also felt that many of them were not always true of heart.
Shed tried to warn her foster father about them, but hed made it pretty clear that he didnt want her to have anything to do with his business.

It had no longer been unusual for messengers to show up in the middle of the night. But one late evening in the early days of autumn, when her foster father had opened the door, a young man, fair of face but ragged and dirty, had been standing outside, huddled in the cold breeze. Shed been standing in the hallway too, and she had known from the very first glimpse of him that he wasnt a messenger. "Whats your errand, stranger?" her foster father had asked in a stern voice.

"Dear Sir..." the man had answered in a thin voice. "I know its late, and that you are a busy man... but I need a place to stay for the night, and-"

"Well," her foster father had interrupted, hands on his hips, "Im a message receiver, not an innkeeper. The inn is further down the road."

For a moment the man had lifted his eyes, and they had wandered from her to her foster father and back again. "Please, hed begged, with an almost desperate look in his eyes, I have no money, but I dont ask for food, nor a bed... just a place on your floor by the fire, and just for the night..."

At the very same moment, a series of images had rushed through her mind, visions so powerful and dark that her world had reeled, and shed had to use all her strength to keep her legs from giving way underneath her. A fire... a bad fire... a young woman, an infant on her arm... screaming... no, it is too late... his hands breaking the window, blood running down his arms... cannot reach... a collapsing roof, the flames consuming everything... her hair, like a torch... and then... darkness. And suddenly, the Sea under a dark sky... waves throwing themselves against a great wall, desperate to get over... and so, finally, a knife, the blade shining in the moonlight, aiming straight at his own heart...

A wave of compassion had risen in her body, so strong that shed almost been sick. This man was not so much in need of a warm fire as he was for human company...

"Please, the man had repeated in a quivering voice.

"Father, shed said, meeting his eyes. "Why cant we...?"

Her foster father had taken a deep breath, scratching the back of his head as if he was going to change his mind, but then hed put his hands back on his hips again, and shed known that the argument was lost. "Look here, hed said to the stranger. "There are countless people knocking on this door every day. If I was supposed to house everyone, I wouldnt even have enough food to keep my family alive, and if you let one in, then therell soon be another and another. Now, please leave before I need to use other methods."

"Of course, Sir, the man had said. "My apologies. I will leave now."

Without another word he had pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, turning around and disappearing into the darkness. Her foster father had closed the door behind him and turned around, facing her. Hed winced when hed seen the tears running down her cheeks. "Whats the matter, child?" hed asked. "Having feelings for a tramp, a stranger?"

"But father," shed sobbed, "cant you see hes suffering? He just needed company, someone to talk to... cant you see that? Please... please, go after him, tell him to come back!"

Her foster father had sighed. "My child," hed continued, "that man could have been anyone, a burglar, an assassin... letting a stranger into your house can be downright dangerous! You cant tell what kind of person he is just by looking at him-"

"Yes!" shed yelled, unable to hide her emotions now. "You can indeed! And if youre not going after him, *I* will!"

With that, shed torn down her cloak from the hanger, and had just been about to slip out through the door when her foster father had grabbed her by her collar and stopped her. "Young lass," hed said, "what is this now, are you out of your mind?! What has gotten into you, going out in the darkdont you realise youll be killed?! I dont know where youre getting these wild ideas from, but no one is going out there tonight, *neither* you nor me. Its not that cold outside, hell survive! And thats the last word Ill hear about it!"

Sobbing, shed sunk down by the door, hiding her face in her hands. She had known there was no use to argue anymore, but shed also known that something terrible was about to happen.
Her foster mother had come to her, talking to her in a soothing voice, helping her to her bedroom, asking her to forget about the man, but she had known...

Finally shed fallen asleep, haunted by dark dreams. Early in the morning she had woken up from a knock on the door and listened when her father answered it. Two men had been standing outside, and shed heard them talking in the hallway. "Do you recognise this man?" one of them had asked in a serious voice, and shed heard him open the door a little wider.

"We found him by the borders of your land, the other one had filled in. "It appears that he has killed himself."

The news had been hard even on her foster father. However, as soon as hed come to his senses, hed taken out his anger on her instead, accusing her of possessing witchcraft and of cooperating with the dark forces of the world. Hed forbidden her to ever use that tool of the devil again. Naturally, shed been
inconsolable, accusing herself for what had happened. The man had just needed someone to talk to...

And shed come to a decision. She would never, ever use her abilities on a human being again.

At first it had seemed very hard to control herself. For a couple of months, shed spent most of her time with Trifas, riding in the forest, and shed avoided the pantry, though she had felt it frustrating to be cut off from the outside world. Then gradually, shed realised that if she didnt look at the messenger directly and avoided his eyes, she was indeed able to restrain herself and just listen to what he had to say.

It had all seemed to be a matter about focus. Focus... When she closed her eyes, thinking about the word, shed always envisioned that elf, tensing his bowstring, aiming... the arrow whistling through the air, finding its target. Some of the messengers of the village had actually been carrying bows when they rode out, but she had never seen them use them.

One day, when shed done some cleaning up in the stable, shed found an old bow, probably left by a messenger who had temporarily housed his horse there. Riding to the neighbour village fair, (where she had known few would recognise her) shed also been able to find some arrows, and as soon as shed gotten home again, she had started practicing. As shed suspected, she already had a talent for it---shed known right away how to hold the bow, and even though her arrows hadnt always hit their intended targets in the beginning, theyd been fairly close, and she had a straight aim, as well as a steady hand. Within a few weeks shed even mastered moving targets, and she was also now capable of shooting from horseback, galloping.

It had all been a secret, of course. But one early morning, her foster father had somehow, without her noticing, sneaked up behind her when shed just been about to engage herself in an exercise of long distant target practicing. To her surprise, he had not been angry with her, as she had expected him to be. Hed just sighed, but had admitted it was a good thing for a young woman who spent so much time in the forest to be able to defend herself.

By now, shed known that she was now considered a young woman, who was soon supposed to find a suitable man to marry. But she had absolutely dreaded the thought. Marriage would mean attaching herself to someone, and most likely, that someone would also control and restrain her, far worse than her foster father had ever done. That would mean no more forest expeditions with Trifas---just staying at home, taking care of the chores... Shed known that many of the village men had considered her beautiful, but queer, and she had also known that most of them would be unable to understand her, and to love her for the one she truly was. Shed avoided the subject whenever it came up, but one evening, her foster father had confronted her and told her that hed found a very suitable husband for her, a man from a neighbouring village. Reluctantly, shed eventually agreed to meet him.

He had been tall and slender, with bright eyes and a short beard... however, there had been something else about him... something shed been unable to put her finger on...

She had hesitated for a moment before she made her decision, and met his eyes, holding them for a moment. And the visions had been flowing. Red flashes against a dark sky... a stallion, the beautiful mane dancing in the wind... a desire to... fists, clenched fists... the deep, brown eyes, suddenly frightened now, a blow, than again, and another, and now the stallion standing on his knees... a pair of fierce hands clasping his throat, blood running from his wide open nostrils...

Gasping, shed backed off, spitting in front of him; her eyes burning with rage. "There is *no* way I will *ever* let you near me, she had said in a hissing voice. "The only thing you hunger for in life is money and power, and you find joy in abusing defenceless animals. I will *not* become a precious little possession of yours."

With that, she had turned around and headed for the stable. The last thing shed heard before the sound of Trifas feet and the whistling of the wind had drenched all other sounds was the raised voices of her foster father and the man, who no longer had been able to control his anger. "Witch!!!" hed screamed
after her, so loud that the entire village must have heard.

When she had come back several hours later, her foster father had been outraged. "Dont you understand?!" hed yelled. "Even though you are officially adopted, you will inherit nothing from us as an unmarried woman! Do you understand? Neither money nor land! Its the law, and there is no way to go around it! It will leave you with nothing! Nothing!"

"And what if thats a risk Im willing to take?" shed yelled back. "If the alternative is to tie myself up to a possessive animal abuser, there is nothing in this world that can make me choose otherwise."

Her foster mother had cried, but neither her nor her foster father had been able to persuade her this time. Eventually it was her choice, not theirs.

It had not been long until she had to face the consequences of her choice. The following winter a bad flu had struck the village, and her foster parents had both fallen ill. No one, including herself, had been able to do anything for them, and eventually they had died, just a few hours apart.

The death of her foster parents had indeed left her with nothing but Trifas and the clothes she was wearing, but to her surprise, her foster father had added some lines to his will:

*I leave behind a stepdaughter, who has been as dear to me as if she had been of my own blood. She has decided not to enter matrimony and therefore lost her right to this heritage. All of my possessions will therefore be passed on to the village elders. However, I have a proposal for them. Offer my foster daughter an employment as a messenger for the council. She may be a woman, but she is a swift rider and has a good steed. She is skillful with the bow, capable of taking care of herself, and she knows how to read and write. Please consider this option. She would be very valuable to you.*

As the respected man her foster father had been, the council had actually bowed to his will. They had employed her as a messenger and made up an entire new set of rules for her, since she was the only woman in the service. The only payment she would receive was just enough to be able to stay at the inns along her expected route. But it was not much, and she was often expected to sleep outdoors, even during the winter. She would never be able to save enough money to buy or build herself a house. She was also forbidden to cross any country borders, otherwise her protection treaty was no longer valid.
And they were always very quick to judge her if she didnt follow these rules.

***

During the last hours she had ridden very hard, and though she probably would be able to carry on herself, Trifas was showing signs of fatigue. He was soaked in sweat and his usually swift and steady feet had begun to stumble. She must allow him to get some food and rest. Therefore she decided to rest in a fairly sheltered place close to the road.

Trifas had taken some mouthfuls of grass and hed gratefully drunk almost a whole bucket of the water she had fetched for him from the nearby stream. But now he was just resting, his tail against the wind, head slightly bowed, and his eyes half shut.

Rising from the ground, she slowly approached him, lifting a hand to carefully caress his muzzle. He welcomed her touch, lowering his head a bit, encouraging her to rub his face and ears.

"Trifas," she said softly, stroking his face with her both hands now. "Im so sorry, my dear boy..."

She closed her eyes and tried to transfer some of her own strength to him. He sighed gratefully. Though not very old, he was no longer the young stallion she once had taken over from her foster father, since hed had trouble handling him.

She continued stroking him, humming softly, when he suddenly winced, lifting his head, his ears fixed, facing down the road.
"What is it, Trifas, she whispered, "is someone coming?"

Only moments later she could hear it herself. It was definitely the sound of hooves, from multiple riders, it appeared, and they were getting closer. This could be a bad sign, and she must be prepared to leave in haste. It could be burglars, and she would not stand a chance against them, no matter how skillful she was with her bow.

But suddenly she heard voices. No... this could *not* be possible. It appeared to be the voices of children... very thin and high pitched... what kind of children would travel these roads? A family, perhaps, but then again... these roads were far from safe, and who would bring their children out for such a long ride, with several days to the closest village?

She focused a little harder, trying to make out some words from their conversation. And suddenly, she heard one of them say something that could only have been stewed with cream and mushrooms. She almost had to restrain a laugh. It was a couple of hobbits, of course! But yet, it was still very uncommon for hobbits to travel this far from their homeland...

These little people had always had a special place in her heart, since the day she first met them. It had been at the inn in Bree, The Prancing Pony, where she often had to stay during her travels. She had always disliked that place. The rooms were of good standard, but the people staying there had often been quite disrespectful to her and either treated her like a retarded child or in a downright harassing way. She preferred to take her meals in her own room, but one afternoon, all rooms had been occupied, and shed had to eat in the common dining room and wait for them to prepare a room for her. It was not until then that she had noticed the group of curly haired little men seated by a table in the corner of the room. They had looked so innocent somehow; good natured, laughing and singing with voices that strongly reminded her of childrens, and yet, it was clear that they were fully grown and capable of taking care of themselves.

Theyd also been looking at her when she entered the room and settled in another corner, at a table all by herself, but when the other men had started to give her dirty glances, and mockingly laughed at her, suddenly one of the little people had risen from their table and approached her. Even though she had been sitting down, shed been more than a head taller than him. A little hesitant, hed spoken to her. "Sorry to disturb you, lady, but we thought you looked lonely... and just wanted to say that... if you like... you can come and share our table. Eating is never enjoyable when youre all by yourself..."

There had been nothing but goodness in his heart, and shed accepted his offer, even though it had meant that she would have to sit on the floor. However, they all placed their cloaks under her before she sat down.

She had soon found out that they were the kindest, most enjoyable company she could ever ask for. They were naturally a bit suspicious of human men, but were not frightened by a lonely woman who seemed to appreciate them for what they were and didnt treat them as overgrown children. Soon began to tell her stories from their homeland. They truly enjoyed talking, and she could easily laugh and relax in their company. Nob, the servant of Butterbur, the innkeeper, had noticed this and quietly passed it on to the other hobbit guests when she was staying there. This meant that she often was invited to their tables even during her future visits to the inn.

Yes, hobbits were remarkable creatures, and meeting a couple of them after long weeks with no one to talk to but Trifas would indeed be something to look forward too. There had actually been rumours of a couple of hobbits who had set out from their home a few years ago to play an important part in something that took place in the lands far away, but as far as she knew, they had never returned. She had never believed much in those rumours--- it was just this kind of tales the hobbits loved to share around a table at The Prancing Pony. But if hobbits really did travel this far, there might well be some truth to the rumours, and she was very curious to find out.

She continued stroking Trifas face, waiting for the travelers to show up behind the trees down the road.


To be continued....