"A potion?" Galadriel repeats almost distractedly, as if she cannot fathom the question. She looks down at herself after a moment and then to the brooch in her hand. She had bled too much, her focus wavered even then; she couldn't use the Elessar, not even to clean her clothing.

Her eyes shut and Galadriel drew a slower breath--it was not as deep as she would have preferred, but she could barely tolerate that much.

"I cannot use this myself," Galadriel admitted and her brow dipped in frustration as she extended her hand and the silver jewelry to Ellana. "Not at the moment, but perhaps you can. We must search and I cannot while I wear these wounds.

"The Elessar grants the power of restoration to the one who bares it," she explained with frequent breaks to breathe. "It will restore you to your fullest, grant you a healer's hand, and will show you the world at its height.

"If you would, use it carefully, mellon nin, for it is no toy."