Healing Hands

Chapter Four: The Quest of the Banished

Eyrell's run slowed to a walk when she neared her home; she needed to calm down. What she was going to tell her father was already distressing enough without the addition of flashing eyes and a sharp tongue.

Perhaps she stood in the doorway for a moment too long, or her face betrayed the grim thoughts weighing on her mind; for when her father came to meet her in the entry, he stopped a few paces away from her, studying her face with a somber expression.

"...I know that look," he said quietly. "You are leaving again."

Eyrell sighed. "I am considering it," she admitted. "Gríma is a traitor, just like you said, and I want to seek out the Riders of Rohan. But if I did, it would not be as simple as leaving and then coming back when I'm finished ."

"It wasn't that simple last time, either," her father said dryly. "What is the obstacle now?"

Eyrell bit her lip. "I would be banished."

The word struck silence into the house for several moments. Her father took in a long breath, his brows raised in disbelief. "And you are still planning to leave?"

Eyrell closed her eyes. "I don't know," she said, pressing her fingers to her temples. "If I don't try to bring the Riders back, no one will. That much is clear. But I cannot cause you more harm by leaving you again."

Her father's eyes softened, and he stood from the couch and walked over to her, putting weathered hands that smelled of spices and baked bread comfortingly on her arms. "You should not have to bear this burden," he said heavily. "No one should. If not for Gríma ..." he shook his head, his lips pursed tight in anger. "But if this is what your heart is calling you to, I will support you wholly. Go. I will be all right here."

Eyrell smiled sadly. "Thank you, father," she said, giving him an embrace. "I will go—and I will come back. This I promise you. And when I do return, it will be with help."

»»————-≫≫∘❁♥❁∘≪≪————-»»

It was surreal to be repacking her bags the next morning; she had hardly had time to unpack them upon her arrival. It brought back the memory of doing this very same thing many months ago. Now she was repeating the movements as a completely different person, scarred and broken ... but stronger also. She had seen the horrors the world could offer, and now they held no fear for her. She would not hesitate to ride back into the fire, if need be.

She shed no tears when she told the healers of her intentions, nor did she betray any fear of leaving or of Gríma's threat. Perhaps the calmness in her voice gave the healers enough confidence in her to approve her request. Fréalyn, who had taken her place as temporary Head of the House, seemed especially comfortable with accepting the burden of leadership once again. Her friends wished her luck and godspeed in her quest, assuring her that they would keep the House running as they had before. Phoebe bashfully handed her a sealed note that smelled of chamomile, to give to Léohelm if she found him. Eyrell promised she would deliver it.

The smell of freshly baked bread filled her nose when she returned home.

Home.

How long would it be until she saw it again? She lingered outside for a moment too long, her eyes running over every feature of the little cottage, memorizing every detail.

Eyrell and her father had lunch together before she left, a hearty meal of fresh bread and chicken; the leftovers were carefully packed into a basket to take with her. The thought of leaving home again, without the option to return, was so excruciating ... and what if she never saw it again?

That won't happen, she told herself firmly. I must succeed.

She let these thoughts fuel her as she led her horse, Ingol, down the streets of Rohan. Her father, too, accompanied her down to the gate.