Spellbound

Mysterious Past, and a Present Problem

 [For context, Scrim is the "little one", seen/mentioned in the previous part called The Secret of Callacinth's Heart. In their escape from Erallisto's soldiers, Callacinth left 'the little one' in the village mentioned in this part. This part time skips to a young but more grown Scrim. The house Scrim was left in belonged to the village healer, an older woman with no children of her own.]

"Scrim!", an older, stern looking elf yelled into the trees of the surrounding area. Her mischievous child had once again run off, and while she appreciated the enthusiasm, she couldn't help but fear not knowing his whereabouts. Almost everywhere in the realm had an increasing level of danger to it as the days passed, causing a foreboding feeling to constantly consume the village and all the surrounding areas.

"Were you looking for me, mother?"

The older elf jumped at the sudden appearance of her son.

"For the sake of-- course' I was looking for you!! Nobody else ever ventures out into this forest like you do."

Scrim jumped from a tree, slowly approaching his mother with a deadpan expression, preparing himself for the almost daily lecture he had been receiving.

"You know, one of these days you're going to get yourself killed or injured wandering out here! Erallisto's beasts wander the forest, don't you remember how I found you?? Just how lucky you were?"

"Yes mum... y'found me on the cushions of your favorite chair, right next to the open window, as Erallisto's vicious  beasties scuttled across the dying forest!!", Scrim stated, in a gradually more mocking tone.

"Mark my word, there will be a day your careless luck runs out, and you WILL be at the mercy of Erallisto's soldiers.", she said, huffing while grabbing her son's arm, dragging him back to the village.

"Mum... they're just beetles, and-- and-- withered leaves!!"

"Oh you got that right, beetles and withered leaves under her command!"

Before her scolding could continue, one of the villagers ran up to her in a panic.

"Ladomaire! Ladomaire, thank goodness I found you.", the elf said, breathless.

"What is it? What's happening?", she said, concerned.

"It's... it's the sickness. It's spreading. One of the children... just fell ill... w-we... we need your help, please."

Without hesitation, she began running in the direction of the village.

"Quickly now, not a moment to lose! Show me where the child is! And Scrim-- my supplies! Retrieve them!", she said, pointing at her son.

"Yes mum!"

And then, they all ran to the aid of the afflicted elven child.

**************************************

The confused crowd of elves around the child cleared as Ladomaire approached, accompanied by her son, carrying a basket of magical tools.

"Herbs, give them to me.", she said.

Having gone through this routine before, Scrim knew exactly what she needed at every step and turn of this mysterious procedure. She was the village's healer afterall.

She broke the dried herbs into a powder, swiftly dusting them across the child's wilting limbs. Returning some life into them, the child wiggled her fingers, regaining some control over herself... for now.

"Thank you Ladomaire... Scrim... we are forever indebted to you.", the weeping father of the child said, cradling her.

The elven crowd applauded at the apparent miracle, grateful to the healing magic Ladomaire was seemingly blessed with.