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A Meeting of Ancients
Ilvanyë regarded the giantess carefully, noting the unusual height she held, and the powerful, unerring aura she carried herself with. The patient laid out in front of her seemed almost miniscule in comparison to the behemoth that was the woman she later learned to be named Hravanis, the wandering sword who had brought her the poisoned Elf.
Tall and fearless she stood in front of the healer, hardened by battle and yet tempered by the ages, but Ilvanyë was not cowed, for she knew fellow brothers- and sisters-in-arms even when they had not been personally acquainted with her. Neither had needed to speak to acknowledge one another. Nay, it was in the fiery, sharp gaze where Ilvanyë recognized one of her own, so few in number and scattered in the present day: A relic of the Elder Days.
