Houses of Healing

[The Good Hunter]

Eril, in the Recovery Room

Eril was not sure what he was seeing at first. He blinked owlishly in the soft light of the recovery room. He had barged in so quickly that he hadn’t even realized the boy, his son, Tom was not in the room alone. He had pushed passed the first woman, the one that brought him there but did not hear a single word of her protest or her (rightly attributed) accusation of rudeness on his part. His mind was singularly focused on the bed where the boy was laying. Another of the healers was sitting on the bed looking after the boy. He swallowed hard, swallowing down the harsh words that would have been his initial reaction to the woman. He did not like being here. The place made his skin crawl. He knew it was not a sensible reaction to the place, but he could not help it. Absently, he wondered how many people had that reaction to the Houses of Healing. He shook his head, clearing it momentarily. Other than his initial words upon entering the room he seemed to have lost his voice. His throat felt parched and dry, swallowing felt like knives falling into his belly. His eyes could not stay focused. Tiny beads of sweat began to form on his brow. His muscles tensed. He wanted to be out of here. He wanted to be rid of this place and it’s memories. He turned, or almost did, but something stopped him. Why was he even here in the first place. He rubbed his hands over his face and looked at the bed, forcing his eyes to stay focused on his son. His vision fogged around the edges, blurring the sight of the healer sitting next to him.

Slowly, he began to focus on her, the healer. She had been speaking for some time but Eril had not been listening intently enough to understand her.

“If during that time Tom’s condition remains stable he will be discharged. You will be given written instructions on how to take care of Tom and what to look out for… However, we will discuss those matters later. You can see your son now, but please try not to upset him in any way.”

He squinted at the woman, this healer who thought she knew so much better than he did about how to treat his son! He scowled and opened his mouth, read to give her a full account of his opinion of her, her profession, and the Houses when he just… stopped. He looked at the boy’s face, his son’s face. Tom’s face, and the will to dominate this woman left him. A wave of guilt hit him, if it had been a physical wave, he would have been knocked over and fallen to the floor. Just a few hours ago he had completely forgotten that Tom even existed. What right did he have to lecture this woman, who clearly cared for the boy, about how she act? He clamped his jaw closed and grumbled under his breath.

“Thank you,” he finally managed. He released the fist he just realized he was making, trying to hold that phantom bottle again. His voice as thick and phlegmy. At first he spoke at such a low volume that even he could not hear himself. He cleared his throat and sighed, furrowing his brow in a regretful manner. “Thank you.” He repeated.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, afraid to look at his son. Instead he looked at a spot just behind his son and focused on it as well as he could. “What happened, Tom? What were you doing that made you end up here of all places? Don’t you remember what happened to your mother here? Why weren’t you careful?”

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta
Reception, with Miriel

"Alas, it was some fifteen years ago now," Addhor admitted to the Receptionist. "My head was somewhat less clear then than it is now," was the politest way of admitting that it had taken him some time to adapt to his new civilian lifestyle. He had been dealing with an awful lot back then, and had dealt with most of it in a less than ideal manner. Which was how he was determining some difference between the dire outcome then, and the hopefully less invasive prospect now. He certainly could not recall the name of the healer who had helped back in the day, and the more thought he put to it, hoped that whomever it had been, would not recall him either, if they even were still employed here. There had been an entire war since then, and for certain some new influx of healers accordingly.

"I would be most obliged," he assured Miriel, as she moved swiftly into action. The patient was aware that his particular malady was not probably urgent, nor especially appealing to whichever healer was assigned it. Perhaps it was just as unappealing to have him loitering in the otherwise tidy reception. The Man edged back into the closest seat as soon as she was from him though, liberating a breath which had been punching his throat while he kept up the façade to her face. Hindsight remonstrated him for having worn the wooden limb to the appointment, for it had rubbed worse for sure along the route. But he had felt it would aide in explaining what had caused the affliction, or aggravated it at least.

This ought be a simple matter at that, however. Wound management. A routine sort of follow-up care or whatever else he could categorise it as, to keep from worrying too greatly. Fingers whitened about the clutch of the chair's arm, as he rode the latest twinge. It was tempting to have the attachment off and flung across the room so that he could alleviate the hurt with proper freedom. But that was how he had ended most days this week, and it was a temporary relief at that. Acknowledging that Miriel had located a likely candidate to help him, Addhor resolved that the time to flee was past. And to be fair, it would likely hurt far less to be examined, than to hobble back down all the wide circles of the city in a graceless flight.

[Pele Alarion]

Master Healer Pele Alarion with Naela, Addhor and Miriel
Back to Reception

It was with a smile of contentment that Pele observed Naela taking in the beauty of the gardens. This was a place reserved for the use of the healers and their patients, and the general public was not really permitted here, unless to visit someone recovering, so it was not a surprise that the place remained somewhat secret to the outside world. She wondered which area of the healing the young woman would find more appealing, as she seemed to express interest both in the plants and in constituent parts of a body.

She was disturbed from her quiet observation and thoughts by Miriel's voice, and felt a little bit of unwillingness to leave the gardens and return to her duties within the buildings. Besides, there was Naela. But perhaps it would be good to see how the girl would take being on scene of actual healing activity, though she would surely need the patient's permission first. There were few that did not mind a curious company when treated.

"Coming!" she responded and then looked back at Naela and offered: "You may join me if you like, and I can see if the patient wouldn't mind your presence..."

Leaving the choice of whether to follow her up to the young lady, Pele hastened back to the reception to the satisfaction of the receptionist who stood in the doorway until she was sure that the healer was indeed here.

"This is..." Miriel began her report, and then realised she had not even clarified the man's name.

"Addhor," Pele provided the missing piece of information, as she offered a nod and a smile at the owner of the name.

"The complaint about the leg, the one which has been shortened to save it. Discomfort, possibly infection," the receptionist reported in a few words.

"Right," Pele acknowledged the short review of the problem, and then turned to Addhor. "Let us head to the treatment room; I doubt this is a good place to check the cause of your complaints," she offered, noting from the man's face that his discomfort was at a pretty high level. He had managed to come all the way here, and Pele did not intend to make him wait any longer or walk much further than necessary; the nearest available treatment room would do.

She waited for her patient to be ready, and then led the way to the treatment room. "How long have you had this particular problem, Addhor?" she asked over her shoulder, expecting him to follow her, and wondering whether Naela was coming as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Recovery Room
with Maenion, Enara and Tara

Pele stopped being busy with the little things and looked back at the gathered people. She could not help but wince at Maenion's cough, and yet there was not much that she could do to alleviate it - the illness appeared to resist everything she did to lessen its impact, and that was something she heartily hated.

When Enara turned to her seeking support for her allegations that Tarawen had only worsened Maenion's condition, Pele frowned slightly and sighed. She could by no means state that this particular coughing fit was somehow significantly worse than the previous ones, though the emotional strain might have played some part. Yet she believed that the connection between the brother and sister was very important, and she disliked the fact that it was interrupted at such a tender moment. And yet the moment had gone.

"The nurse will soon bring some fresh tea with honey," she simply stated, avoiding a direct answer. "It should provide some temporary aid."

"We can go to my quarters, and I will meanwhile think of some possible options for your accommodations, Tarawen," she then turned to Tara, making a quiet promise to herself to make sure the siblings got some time alone at some point.

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta
Reception, with Miriel and Pele.

"Pele", there was much of a relief in the greeting, and responding nod. It countered the thinly veiled grimace that standing up, perhaps a little too swiftly, had encouraged. The exchange between the two women was mercifully brief and to the point, the resounding absence of laughter or some order for him to be gone and not to be so silly, was quite reassuring. That they moved to secret him someplace more private was extremely welcome; for the discomfort was indeed not all from the pain, but a part of the embarrassment. Sat out so self-consciously was far from habit when the man much preferred blending into his own everyday existence.

Bracing himself, he set out to follow the Master Healer, who was moving nonetheless at a pace it seemed to keep him comfortable. The limb took up with a new verse of complaint out of spite, but it was a short distance and a step closer to resolution. He would manage it. For he had kept up with the former Sergeant easily enough when their treks collided in Ithilien. His son had introduced them, and paid for it as the two experienced had on occasion amused themselves really testing Nal's resolve to accept the realities of survival in the forest. Addhor had not seen Pele for a long while since then, but he had not forgotten; he knew she was no nonsense. He knew she was capable. And best of all, she was familiar with things he would not now be forced to explain. Her question as they moved was to the point, and quite distractingly polite, typically Pele, so that he was easily encouraged to reply.

"I would put it at about a week, more or less," he supposed, sounding as vague about the details as he was in truth not.. It had in fact been exactly a week, almost to the hour. He had set himself that deadline, that if it had not improved by then .. and hoped it would have, but it had not. "You know I keep myself as active as I can, but recently a friend convinced me they could teach me how to dance, .." somehow it was easier to confess this to her back than admit it to her face. Made all the more ridiculous from being rendered to a near hobble that he would rather she not witness. "I regret it may have put a new kind of pressure on the support, and the wood bit back. I can work on that of course, and have been, to make the support more accommodating," Naturally he had been customising the attachment over the years, and ever more so the last week to aide with comfort. It had even inspired a range of similarly 'supportive' wooden wares for his shop, given the post-war market. "But this sore done to the flesh I can not seem to settle," he admitted. "I clean it, but it doesn't seem to want to mend." The frustration even at this failing, was derailed in the noticing how they were come already to the treatment room.

[Pele Alarion]

Master Healer Pele Alarion with Addhor (and Naela?)
Treatment Room

Despite her best efforts to remain serious and business-like, a spark of merriment danced in Pele's blue eyes and a grin formed on her lips when she heard the reason for Addhor's discomfort. Dancing! Though in and of itself the fact should not even be that funny, yet the image her mind conjured of the man's attempts at it somehow seemed amusing. However, the few steps to reach the door of the treatment room had to be enough for her to regain some sort of serious composure again.

"Doing something that is out of the range of your usual movements might indeed irritate the skin and put different sort of pressure on it," she noted, pushing the door open to let them in. "And a week is quite a long time to bear with the pain." Pele realised that perhaps Addhor found it somewhat embarrassing to come here because of this discomfort, so she did not chide him for taking so long. And how could she, when she had done a similar thing not that long ago.

"Make yourself comfortable on the cot, and let me see what your leg is saying about your additional activities," she pointed at the mentioned piece of furniture and then went to the small hearth, hiding the grin that appeared on her face yet again. Picking up the poker she stirred the embers into a bit of flame to make sure the water in the pot above would remain heated: more likely than not she would need to use it to make some concoction or such.

Straightening up after her fire-poking effort, Pele turned back to face Addhor, and asked: "Say, how would you describe the level of pain you have? And does it ease off when you are not using your support?"

[Winddancer]

Naela following after Pele and Addhor

Still stooped over the plant, Naela slowly stood up, looking towards where the two women were now talking. She had been offered the chance to come along, though paused for a moment to consider. Every part of her being wanted to just run after them, hungering for more knowledge, but part of her was also sensitive about how it might be for the patient with someone just stood there ogling.

Thankfully her curiosity won, telling herself that if she was going to learn, she was going to have to observe first, despite how uncomfortable that might make her and the patient. Still it made her nervous, her hands shaking slightly as she quickly followed the two women back into the House of Healing, giving one quick glance back at the beautiful garden.

She stayed as far back as she could, to not crowd them as they made their way to a treatment room, lingering in the doorway as Pele and the patient entered. She had only heard snippets of what was the matter, looking down and seeing the wooden leg the man used to walk on. She couldn't help but bite down on her lower lip when she thought of how much it must hurt to put that much pressure on an area that was obviously causing him pain, hoping that Pele would know how to alleviate that for him. She hadn't yet been given permission to enter by the patient, so waited by the door until either of them let her know it was ok to enter, respectful of how the patient might not want her there afterall.

***
Maenion with Tara, Pele and Enara

"Tara.." his words were nothing more than a mumble, not even able to open his eyes and seek out his sister. She was here! He needed to talk to her, he needed her to know how sorry he was for his part in her leaving. He needed her to know that he too, eventually, thought that she was the rightful heir to their fathers weapons. He had never wanted to use them like Tarawen did, content in tending to the gardens and reading his books. He never wanted to head out and explore the wild, grateful for the little slice of 'wild' at the top of the city that he had helped tame and ensured it was rich with herbs and useful plants, as well as making it look serene and pleasing so that it could be used as a remedy for the mind as well as the body. It was his pride and joy and one his stepson, Maegon seemed to be keen on sharing as well.

A small smile crept to his fevered lips, slipping into a dream of him, Tara and Meagon walking the paths of the garden, the sun shining brightly above and a warm wind playing with the leaves and the butterflies flitting lazily around the many blooming flowers, the sweet scent filling their nostrils.

However both his smile and his muttered call for his sister were drowned out by Enara, as she noisily fussed with his pillows, slapping them to puff them up behind him, her body stood so that the two women at the door could not see his face. Her eyes were burning with hostility towards Tarawen, but also for the healer who had not backed up her claim. Obviously the return of his sister had upset him! Obviously seeing his sister after all these years was putting a strain on him and how dare the healer not acknowledge that! She had half a mind to file a formal complaint against this woman as she obviously did not take her job seriously and obviously cared nothing for her husbands well being.

As Meanion finally slipped into a deep sleep, the smile sliding off his face, she stopped fussing with the blanket and returned to the chair next to him, gripping his thin and fragile hand in hers, turning to look at the women by the door as if to ask why they were still there, obviously he needed his rest, though the question remained in her glare only, her lips a thin line of disapproval.

[Nessa Saelind]

Treatment room – Nessa with Eril, Tom and Thea

The presence of Tom’s father (Eril) in the treatment room made Nessa feel uneasy. She couldn’t pinpoint what was it about him that made her feel uneasy, but the fact that the man reeked of alcohol didn’t help matters. She knew that she shouldn’t judge people based on first impressions; you could never know how a person truly felt or thought unless you’ve been through what they been through. Still, the uneasiness was there and she felt tense about his visit. However, she acknowledged that, despite everything, the man came to see his injured son. It had to count for something, although she couldn’t be certain he’d listened to everything she said.

She tried to suppress her unease and the initial judgemental reaction toward the man (Eril); she was here to help and heal, not pass judgement on somebody’s parenting skills or lack of them. She nodded rather stiffly when the man thanked her and moved aside so he could go see and talk to his son. She looked towards the door again looking for Thea and she saw the girl standing there nervously. Thea was biting her lower lip and fidgeting with her hands. It reminded Nessa that she still had to treat the poor girl’s hands.

- Thea – she called the girl softly and beckoned her to come inside the room. The girl was looking at her uncertainly like she wanted to stay and leave the room at the same time, so Nessa went over to her and linked her arm under Thea’s like they were going to stroll together through Pelargir’s promenade.

- Come, sweetling. – She told the startled girl and gently, but firmly led her towards the shelves and cabinets with various bottles and jars with herbs and ointments. – I promised you I’d look at your arms and give you an ointment for them. – She continued to speak softly so she wouldn’t disturb Tom and his father (Eril), although she was listening and discreetly observing both of them just in case. It was also half of the reason she wanted Thea in the room; Tom took a liking to her and Nessa though the boy felt safe and was more relaxed when both of them were present.

As they both stood in front of the medicine cabinet Nessa unlinked her arm from Thea’s and started searching for the calendula ointment she wanted to give to Thea. Since everything was sorted alphabetically she quickly located the jar with the calendula ointment and reached for it. She thought about making oat and honey-based soap for Thea and debated about washing the girl’s arms with saline before she applied the ointment when she heard Tom’s father (Eril) speak to the boy.

- What happened, Tom? What were you doing that made you end up here of all places? Don’t you remember what happened to your mother here? Why weren’t you careful?

Holding the jar with calendula ointment in hand Nessa turned to Tom and his father (Eril). Tom looked uncomfortable, he shrunk into himself, trying to make himself smaller. As if by making himself so small that he could disappear his father would stop chastising him.

- I don’t know… – Tom said his voice small and quiet. – I don’t remember… – He looked up, his gaze wandering around the room searching for her. When their eyes locked she nodded.

- If you’ll excuse me. – She told Thea as she put the jar with ointment on the cabinet. – Please, stay here I won’t be a moment.

The girl looked at her uncertainly but nodded mutely. Nessa gave her a reassuring smile and quickly walked over to Tom’s bed. She placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder and he looked at her with a grateful smile. She smiled at the boy and still keeping a reassuring hand on his shoulder she turned to the boy’s father.

- As I’ve already told you when you first came Tom has been in an accident and suffered a mild concussion. – She repeated what she said to the man as he came making sure that she enunciated every word. – He does not remember what happened which is perfectly normal. He might remember later, or he might not. At this moment that doesn’t matter. – She said firmly, pausing for breath before she said something unkind out of sheer frustration and budding anger towards the boy’s father. – The only thing that matters now is that your son is fine and that he will recover. Pointing fingers and assigning blame does not help. So please, enough. Don’t cause unnecessary pain and needless suffering. Be with your son, help him and help yourself.

[Winddancer]

Thea with Nessa, Tom and Eril

All thoughts of sneaking off were suddenly halted as she heard Nessa's whispered call, seeing the woman make a beeline straight for her. Panick filled her gut and Thea almost ran right then, her whole body tensing as the flight mode almost kicked in. Though whether it was her conscience or being too slow that kept her there she would never know, it being too late as Nessa reached her and linked her arm into her own, walking her reluctantly over to the cabinet.

Thea let out a breath she did not know she was holding as Nessa enlightened her as to why she was taking her over here, quickly looking down at her red hands. She was about to say her standard response when people asked about them, however she knew it would not fly with Nessa and instead remained quiet. Get the ointment and then go, she told herself. At least now she had the coin to pay for it, the coin purse feeling heavy on her hip and the thought of it making her face burn hotly with guilt.

Luckily Nessa was distracted by Tom and his father, hopefully not seeing the hot guilty look on Thea's face as she merely nodded her assent to staying put. Too lost in her own guilty thoughts, she barely heard as Nessa chastised Tom's father, instead looking between her hands and the ointment, a horrible thought niggling in her mind. What if she just left a coin for the ointment and then left? She had no business here anymore and she desperately wanted to be gone before the father found out it was her and the strange woman that had cause Tom's injury. Biting her lower lip again, one hand went to the coin purse, fidgetting with it nervously.

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta
Treatment Room, with Pele (and Naela ?).

The cot was a means for lying down, not sitting, but it served as an adequate seat all the same. Addhor would have leaned against a wall at this point, so was grateful for the comfort. In sitting, he was not removed too high from the floor that either the boot or the wooden foot let air pass beneath them, but still he settled toward a little more balance while Pele busied herself at the hearth. The former Ranger might have raised his chin proudly when she remarked on his having lasted out the week, clearly mistaking the chastisement for astoundment. But the truth of quite how often he had almost given in was still too close to mind to pretend it had been at all easy. The Master Healer did not need to know that though, and as he had no need to share it, he chose not.

Rather he elected to ready for the examination, that she might be spared the need to ready him herself. The right leg of his trousers hung loose around the slender wooden limb, by design, to allow the maximum of movement without lacking the charade of shape. So the cloth was rolled up to the man's thigh with ease and one hand. He might have been more self-conscious unveiling a regular leg, for at least he could reveal the support here as simply as exhibiting some other piece of work he had fashioned for a customer. Unfastening the straps which harnessed the aide to his shortened limb, required a moment of preparedness to brace himself, so the Healer’s question was welcome cause to delay a little longer. Relief would come only on the other side of pain.

“It eases when it is not touching ..well, anything,” he responded, “but I bandaged it as best I could to protect from the worst of rubbing, and to try and keep it clean. Now it catches on the bandage, though less so when I am at rest. There looks to be some .. discharge from the broken skin which soaks through the cloth and part dries while I am still, and then I move, and it tears it’s clutches from the cloth and discharges anew, and so it goes on.”

A choked groan, not unsimilar to dry heaving (if he was dry heaving small shards of glass up and down his throat) indicated that the support had been pried loose, and leaned against the cot to one side. The limb still hid the worst of it’s shame underneath a bandage, yellowed in places, which had clearly become unsettled by use and movement. The wrappings might have explained why the right thigh appeared wider than his left, but there was undoubtedly swelling too beneath the bandage which had been further forcibly compressed when the tender limb was set into it’s wooden sleeve.

“It hurts enough” Addhor concluded, recognising that he had not yet explained ‘what level' the pain sat at. “Enough to bring me here,” was perhaps the best way he could define the unease. Enough that he had been honest about how the affliction had begun. The pain had overcome pride. “This one is with you ?” he deviated from the subject, by noting the young woman (Naela) stood by the door. In case Pele had not.

[Zôrzimril]

Tarawen
Recovery Room with Pele, Maenion, and Enara

Tara sighed as her brother's coughs subsided and he drifted into what looked like peaceful sleep. He looked so frail and slight! She would never have imagined him in this state, healer that he was. Surely, he must have known he was ill before it got this bad? Hadn't his wife noticed his deterioration before he became too weak to speak at full volume? The questions floated, unanswered and aimless, into and out of her thoughts as she watched Maenion's eyes close, his breathing slow, and his face relax. She reached a hand up to brush her hair from her face, wishing she could banish these uncertainties with the same motion. She had things to find out on her next visit.

"Rest well," she murmured as she turned from the sight of Enara busying herself with Maenion's pillows. The woman had put herself firmly between the siblings, and Tarawen was too worn out today to raise a fight about this. Besides, maybe she was merely imagining the hostility in Enara's face due to the near-delirium brought on by her exhaustion. All would be clearer the next time she saw him, or so she hoped.

She picked up her bag where she'd left it near the door and stepped over the threshold and into the hall. "Thank you," she breathed as Pele offered to help her figure out where she might stay. "I'd actually love to find something to eat before I settle in, if you know anywhere nearby . . ."

[Pele Alarion]

Master Healer Pele Alarion with Addhor and Naela
Treatment Room

Pele listened intently when Addhor described the pain that he was experiencing, and she observed him from where she stood by the hearth. Without a closer inspection, she clearly noted his discomfort when he took off the support, and it seemed that his thigh was slightly swollen. However, she would have to see more than the stained bandage to make any conclusions on the true condition of his limb.

The question he than posed drew Pele's attention to the door, and she had realised she had forgotten Naela for a moment, while focused on her patient. "Ah yes. Addhor, this is Naela, an aspiring healer. Would you mind if she stayed and learned?" She was very well aware that it might be awkward for both of them, and that perhaps Addhor would no longer want to be truly honest; yet she had learned most of what she needed to know from him and could easily work with that information and with what she would actually find under the bandage. Yet she needed his permission to allow the young woman to remain.

She did not remain still for long to wait for his answer in relation to Naela, and set about fixing a cup of tea for Addhor. Combining some willow bark and cinnamon in a mug, she covered it with a lid for it to steep.

"You have not let that leg rest much, have you?" she asked, turning to him again. It was difficult for Pele to imagine him lounging about and not working either in his shop or roaming Ithilien, or... dancing.

~~~~~
Leaving Recovery Room with Tarawen

Try as she could, Pele could not find a good reason why Enara seemed so envious and cross at Tarawen, to the point of physically placing herself between the brother and sister. Of course, there was concern for Maenion's wellbeing, but then again there had to be much more going on under the surface. Pele shook her head slightly in dismay, as she stepped out after Tara and closed the door gently.

"Right..." she said with a soft sigh and began walking along the hallway. "Most accommodations are located on the first and second circles, which is quite a way off." She glanced at Tara and evaluated her condition for walking down all those circles to get board and room. "We have a couple of spare rooms set apart for close relatives of patients, in special cases - when their presence is very necessary. I figure we could house you at least for a day or two, and something edible could surely be procured from the kitchens."

Here Pele's eyebrows rose, and she gave Tara a rather conspiratorial look. "You could be able to observe when Enara leaves and sneak in to have some time with your brother alone," she said in near whisper, as if Maenion's wife could overhear them beyond the closed door and over the distance they had already walked. "That is, if you would rather not go down to one of the inns right away. You can always do that on another day if you feel that you should not take up place in the Houses of Healing. What do you say?"

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta
Treatment Room, with Pele and Naela

Addhor had not turned to see the woman at the entrance, for he required no such confirmation to note her presence ..stood in the only escape route. It was instinctive. Still the Master Healer had awarded their shadow no concern, and for that her patient looked to follow suit. His brown eyes quantified the reasoning for Naela, now able to do so without a defensive guard to keep him set on edge. A slow but steady assent was allowed, as he nodded for the student to enter her lesson.

“If she does not stay, she does not learn,” the man accepted; sense over sentiment. “Do not fear. You shall see far worse than me,” he promised Naela though the invitation was not meant to instill apprehension. There was a healthy degree of respect there, for the man could surely not have elected such a vocation as the one she broached, for himself. Brutal wars between life and death were not all fought on the battle field, and surely these disarming clean rooms could tell their tales of the sorrowful defeats same as the triumphant victories they had witnessed through the years. Addhor knew though, he would rather seek to ward off some horrific thing that he might stall with steel and with strength, than to try to piece a barely breathing subject back together. That was a very different type of strength.

Conscious all the same of now facing two sets of eyes, he was glad to have readied for them on his own terms, rather than be ‘handled’ by the most well-meaning professionals. Pele was about her elixirs, her back to the room, still brewing up perhaps some relaxant to rob him of inhibitions. When she turned, it was with a question that already knew it’s own answer.

“I ..” he began, and frowned a moment, reconsidering the foolhardy notion of lying. He was not skilled in spinning untruths that would be believed, but he was a fan of facts more so than feelings. To confess quite how determined he had been to fill his time of late ? That would have been an ask. “I have learned to make the most out of every day I am allowed,” he gave up, as vague a justification as could be counted truth. “This leg .. ]” he rolled eyes at himself, though patted the wooden support now laid along the cot beside him “was idle overlong. It has much to make up for,” he supposed. He might not have been referring to the limb alone.

[Winddancer]

Naela with Pele and Addhor

She saw the man nod and let out the breath she had unknowingly been holding, her heart beating just a little bit faster. Of course she wanted to be respectful of not overcrowding anyone in need she was just so curious. This would be her first proper wound that wasn't a scraped knee or cut finger. She gave the man a quiet nod in thanks, a small appreciative smile on her lips as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. While he had given her permission to enter, he had not agreed to be displayed for all who passed by the room.

Staying out of the way, she found a spot at the end of his cot where she could stand without being in the way when Pele moved around for the things she needed and still be able to see what she did. Tilting her head forward slightly for a moment, Naela noticed the yellow spots on the bandages, wincing when she thought of how much that must hurt to put his entire weight on when he walked.

His words about making the most of every day caught her off guard and she smiled at him, those very words spoken by her grandmother almost every single day since the War, again making her think what had happened to make her retire. But those were thoughts for another time, right now she needed to pay attention, wondering what Pele was brewing, though she could clearly smell the cinnamon.

***
Enara with Maenion

It looked like Maenion was going to be asleep for the rest of the evening and she had waited a full hour after the sister had left. Thinking of the sister made her lip curl with distaste, both of how she had presented herself here all dirty and dusty from the ride, not even taking a moment to wash herself before coming in here. But also a deeper darker feeling roiled in her gut. She would never admit that it was jealously, she would even scoff at whomever would even dare to say that, instead trying to convince herself that it was because she was sensing that Tarawen must deep down be a bad person. Why else would she just up and leave her brother without a word for all these years? Clearly it was not her husbands fault, he had always spoken kindly of his sister, even though those occasions had been rare and quite the touchy subject when brooched.

Giving Maenion's hand a kiss, she placed it on his stomach, drawing the blanket over his frail form to keep him warm. For a rare moment true sadness filled her eyes as she looked at him, heart breaking at the thought of him dying. She did not want to be alone, yet again. Sighing she steeled herself and rose, straightening her long black skirt and headed for the door. She was not able to spend the nights with him because of her two children, but the healers had been given strict instructions to check on him often through the night and to come and get her straight away should he deteriorate. With a last look over her shoulder, she murmered "Good night, my love" and headed home.

[Nessa Saelind]

Reception; Nessa, Ellin and Annabel

The ride from the Marketplace to the Houses of Healing was an interesting affair. Walter was rather surprised, and a bit shocked when he saw her approaching with Annabel who was holding her freshly bandaged arm next to her chest. Ellin walking next to Annabel trying to distract the woman from the pain by chatting about mundane things about the Marketplace.

If Annabel wasn’t injured, and if this scene was a part of a play they were watching in the theatre it would have been rather silly and she would laugh merrily at the protagonists’ predicament. Interestingly it was kind of funny in its way, Nessa thought as everyone climbed into the cart. As the cart moved from the Marketplace towards the Houses of Healing she kept her eyes on Annabel who was quiet, apparently lost in thought. Colour had returned to the woman’s cheeks and she was looking better than before. She glanced at Ellin who was sitting in the front with Walter and asking him more questions than the lad was used to. She suppressed a smile watching them, it seemed that he didn’t mind her daughter’s curiosity; she supposed it helped him in a way.

After a while, they reached the Houses of Healing and Walter helped them get out of the carriage and they thanked him again before he left. Ellin went before them to open the gates to the Houses of Healing and she and Annabel walked into the reception area where Ralph the Receptionist was watching them with raised eyebrows.

- Mistress Nessa! – He exclaimed in greeting, surprised to see her. – I thought today was your day off… – He said looking at the chart in front of him and then at her.
- It was, and then it wasn’t. – She replied and gave him a quick smile. – Ellin and I were at the marketplace when we found Miss Annabel who injured her arm. I cleaned it as best as I could there…
- I see… – The receptionist replied nodding his head in understanding. He checked his chart once again, searching for an unoccupied treatment room. When he found what he was looking for he took a quill, dipped it in ink and marked something on the chart. – The last room on the right is free and you can take the young lady there. I noted that you’ll be there on the chart. Oh, and your daughter can stay here if you’d like.
- Thank you, Ralph. – She thanked the elderly receptionist and looked over to Ellin to see what she thought about this suggestion. Her daughter shook her head indicating that she would rather stay with her. – If it’s not an issue, Ellin will stay with me.
- It’s no problem mistress Nessa.
- Thank you once again. – She paused for a moment and before turning to take her patient to the treatment room she asked Ralph one more thing. – Could you please send a message or a runner to my house on the 4th level to inform my husband that my daughter and I are here?
- Of course ma’am. – Ralph replied and she nodded gratefully.
She gently took Annabel by her uninjured arm and gesturing to Ellin to follow them she walked from the reception to the last treatment room on the right

OOC ((Part 2 of 2, the 1st part of the story is at the MT Marketplace.))

[Zôrzimril]

Tarawen
Leaving Recovery Room with Pele

With a glance back at the closed door of the recovery room, Tarawen followed Pele away from her brother and his wife. She pushed an oily strand of hair from her eyes, which reminded her how disheveled she must look. She glanced down; her clothes were travel-worn and badly needed a wash. So did she, for that matter. A bath was most definitely in order now that she had reached the city.

She walked wearily, trailing behind Pele as the healer outlined some options for her lodgings. "The first and second circles do seem far right now," she agreed, putting a hand to her forehead without thinking, as if to shield her eyes from the sun that had thrown down dizzying rays on her way up to the sixth circle. "I don't want to inconvenience the healers any longer than necessary, but I would love to stay here for a night or two, just to get cleaned up and to see Maenion a bit. Alone." The last word slipped out before she could temper the emphasis she laid on it. Ah well. Pele seemed attuned to the situation already and had made the suggestion herself.

"I would certainly insist on paying you all for the stay, and any meals I might take here before moving elsewhere for a longer stay." She patted her bag to indicate that there was, indeed, coin in her possession, then sighed lightly. "I am ready to stay in the city as long as necessary, until he recovers or . . . " Here, her voice trailed off and her brow furrowed as she considered the alternative. Tarawen glanced at the floor in frustration that these feelings were overtaking her yet again. When she raised her eyes to Pele again, she gave the healer a tentative smile as if to beg her forgiveness for this moment of weakness.

"Now that I have you alone . . . tell me truly, what is your opinion of my brother's condition? I learned very little of healing from our father before leaving the city. I don't trust my own instincts to assess him." Her eyes gleamed a bit with anxiety. "And I would appreciate any insight you may have on when would be a good time to visit my brother to avoid any unnecessary, um, awkwardness."

[The Good Hunter]

Eril, in the Recovery Room with Nessa, Thea, and the boy

He didn’t remember? Eril squinted and looked at his son, Tom, searching for signs of deception. How could he not remember what happened to him? Eril wanted to laugh at such foolishness. If it were so easy to forget the bad things that happened to them, why did he have to drink himself into a stupor every night just so he could sleep at night and not be haunted by the image of his wife fading away in these very walls, perhaps in this room. He shuddered and shook himself, clearing his head. What was the boy doing? Why was he acting so afraid of him? A groan of barely suppressed annoyance grew in the back of his throat. He didn’t understand anything that was going on. He wished he had something to drink. He tried to keep his aggravation down, it would not do to lose his temper in here the midst of all these women ready to pounce on him for any perceived transgression. He squinted and watched in increasing frustration as the healer (had he gotten her name?) came in and sat next to his son, Tom. Why was she so defensive? What was he doing that was so wrong? He frowned as she began explaining his condition again. It was nothing to his ears but nonsensical jargon and gobbledygook.

“I’m not trying to assign blame!” He finally said in an outburst. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, closing his eyes to try and calm himself down. “I’m not… trying to assign blame I just… want to…” he trailed off and stared out of the window. He had felt so powerless in here. He wanted to say ‘I want to know what happened to my son’ but the words would simply not form in the back of his throat, all he felt there was an urge to scream and grab something and break it. That, he knew, would not go over well. There would be no understanding of that here.

“So… what… do I do… what do I do now?” he asked meekly.

[Pele Alarion]

Pele w/ Addhor and Naela
Treatment Room

"You might have to find other ways to make the most of the day for a while, ways that require less exertion," Pele commented, a small smile playing on her lips, as she imagined that such instructions would not be liked by her patient. Then she strained the tea to remove any dregs and added a big spoonful of honey, stirring it heartily.

"Willow bark, cinnamon and honey," she then explained to Naela, while bringing the mug over and handing it to Addhor. "It will help to take the edge off the pain, so that inspecting the injury is less of a hassle." She knew that the tea would not relieve all of the pain, but it could at least make it more bearable. "Be so kind, Addhor, and drink it. It shouldn't be too bitter with honey in it. Meanwhile I'll see what there is to see concerning the reason for your complaints."

Once her hands were free from the mug, Pele set about removing the bandages. Her touch was gentle, and she rolled up the bandage little by little, making sure that any spots that might have hardened and stuck would not be torn apart too roughly. Even though she rolled up the bandage, she had no intentions to reuse it and it would be discarded right away.

"Well..." she visually examined the revealed flesh, as she finished rolling up the bandage and tossed it into the waste basket. "This doesn't look awfully bad at all, does it now? You've done a pretty good job at keeping the location of injury clean."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pele w/ Tara
Study/Healer Quarters

"It wouldn't be too much of inconvenience, Tarawen," Pele waived away any concern regarding this subject. "It's not as if you would go around and meddle in the affairs of healers or something." She opened the door to the study and led Tara through it into one of the back rooms comfortably fitted with a table, a couple of chairs and an arm chair by the bookshelf, which contained a selection of books.

"I'll see if I can get something for us from the kitchen as I wouldn't mind a bite as well, and then I'll show you into a room, bath and such," she continued, motioning Tara towards the chairs. "If you would like to pay something for the stay, I'm sure the Houses of Healing could make use of such coin for good purposes." While she did not state that any payment was mandatory, she left the matter open for the other woman to deal as she would like.

Then the healer stood for a few moments, considering how best to describe Maenion's condition. "As for you brother," she began tentatively, though opting for honesty. "His condition is very bad. We are doing all we can to help him recover, but there are almost no signs of improvement currently, and it is hard to say whether he would recover or lose the fight." Pele hated being unable to ensure the wellbeing of anyone that was in any way under her care, and yet there were things that were beyond her ability to change, no matter how hard she tried. "At any rate he seems to be longing for you, and if you want a few moments just between the two of you, later evenings or about noon would be best."

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll get us some food," she said after a brief pause and headed out the door to hunt down the mentioned edibles.

[Winddancer]

Enara, Maegon, Findis and Maenion

"But Mother.. why do we have to stay when he is asleep!?" Findis barely attempted to keep her voice low, her tone full of annoyance and impatience. It only took one look from Enara to quiet the young sixteen year old, though she continued to fume standing by the tall bay window that overlooked her stepfather's precious garden. A sneer crawled to her sharp features, hating everything that had to do with this weak coughing living corpse of a man that was her stepfather.

Maegon allowed for a brief glance at his older sister, sadness glinting in his young eyes, never understanding how his sister could be so hateful towards their stepfather, especially as he always went out of his way to do his best for them all. At only eight, even he understood that his family did not really deserve such a tender and kind man in their lives, though he was grateful all the same. Giving his stepfather's hand a squeeze, he leaned in to whisper. "The gardens are being well looked after, Stepfather. The apple tree at the far corner is on the mend too, and now blooming. When you are better I am sure there will be apples to pick.." Stopping as his voice cracked, Maegon swallowed hard and ignored the disgusted look his sister gave him, or the stern glare his mother sent to his sister. "Please, get better soon.. we miss you.."

Seeing that her son was about to cry, Enara pried him away from Maenion. "Ok, time to head back home for lunch." Reluctantly Maegon let his stepfathers hand go, giving it a last squeeze before he rose from the chair next to the bed and with slumped shoulders headed for the door to follow his sister who had already left without saying goodbye.

"I will see you later my dear." Enara said as she leaned down and gave her husbands gaunt cheek a peck, quickly righting a pillow before following her two children out.

[Zôrzimril]

Tarawen
Study/Healer Quarters with Pele

Tara laughed when Pele reassured her that a stay in the Houses of Healing would not be any trouble. In doing so, she realized that it had been a long time since she'd felt much levity. "No, I most certainly wouldn't," she said with a grin. She followed the master healer into a cozy room, which turned out to be a study rather than a healer's chambers.

Pele gestured to a seat, so Tara sat. She had not been able to sit and relax since she arrived in the city, so she sagged a bit into it without fully realizing how she looked. It felt wonderful to sit and rest her feet. They were swollen and sore from all the walking she'd done recently, and because she almost certainly was dehydrated. She nodded gratefully when Pele mentioned food, then rummaged in her pack for her coin purse.

"Of course, I would love to offer the Houses of Healing payment. Just name the price. If I can't manage it, I would be happy to help out in any way that I can in exchange for any trouble I cause with my presence." She opened the pouch and felt smooth silver coins inside. She took out five and laid them on the table. "I'm really not sure what would be most appropriate. I am happy to pay more if needed." She felt a bit awkward; making these sorts of exchanges was not, as a rule, in a ranger's everyday duties in the Lone Lands. But she smiled earnestly to prove her willingness to cover the cost of her stay.

Before the conversation about payment could go further, Pele gave her the forthright summary she had been hoping for. She had wanted an honest account of Maenion's condition, and she got it. Tarawen found that her hands were knotting themselves together in anxiety. At the words "it is hard to say whether he would recover or lose the fight," her mind began to wander, flitting through an image of the worst-case scenario like an alarmed sparrow, haphazard and distracted. When she managed to pull her mind free from the grip of this worry, she heard Pele outlining good times to visit. "Lunch and evenings," she mumbled, nodding with eyes unfocused, still pondering what she would do if Maenion died. Would she stay in the city? What would happen between her and Enara? She did not relish the thought of another fight over a dead man's possessions. "Yes. Yes, I'll make sure to visit him then."

With a mighty effort, Tara drew her focus back to the room and to the master healer's kind face. "Thank you," she whispered as Pele left to procure some food.

[Pele Alarion]

Pele with Tara
Study/Healer Quarters

"I am sure this would be quite a fair payment," Pele said, collecting the coins and slipping them into a small box on the shelf. She was not used to selling accommodations, and so did not relish setting a certain price, especially considering Tarawen's weariness and the situation with her brother. "Else, I might call on you to assist if a great need comes," she added, though Houses would have to become awfully busy for her to involve people that were not healers or their assistants.

That said, the healer left, quietly closing the door behind her to allow Tara some privacy and rest. A visit to the kitchen was successful, and the cook loaded a basket with a clay pot containing chicken stew with a plenty of vegetables, as well as freshly baked bread, butter and honey.

Without undue delay, Pele made her way back, her rumbling stomach reminding her that she should also have some food and not just provide for others.

"Look, Tarawen," she exclaimed. "There is some nice stew and bread right out of oven." She unpacked the goods from the basket, set out bowls and eating utensils, and then made sure to have a pot of tea ready to be heated.

"As soon as you are refreshed and rested a bit," she then said, pouring stew into the bowls. "I'd urge you to spend as much time with your brother as you can. I figure your presence might inspire him to fight against the illness, if at all possible, and... I gather you have been parted for a long time? Re-established relationships are always excellent."

[Nessa Saelind]

Treatment room – Nessa with Tom, Eril and Thea (who is desperately trying to escape leave the room)

Nessa was observing Tom’s father (Eril), noticing how the man struggled to reign in his frustration and control his actions and emotions. The fact that he was hangover certainly didn’t help matters.

- I’m not trying to assign blame! – His outburst startled her and as Eril clenched and unclenched his fists, she realised that in her desire to protect Tom she did not choose the best approach.

- I’m not… trying to assign blame I just… want to... – The boy’s father wrestled with his frustration, struggling to find words. The healer bit her lower lip and glanced at Tom who was reaching out for her hand. She took it and squeezed it in support and gave him a small smile which he returned.

- So… what… do I do… what do I do now? – Eril meekly asked and she turned to look at him, the boy’s hand still in hers. She was silent for a while, thinking and observing Tom’s father who was fighting whatever demons were plaguing him. From what she gathered by observation and from what little Tom said his father was clearly devastated by the death of his wife and turned to alcohol as a way to deal with his grief. Eril’s alcohol problem would need to be addressed, but she would do that later. For now she needed to focus on managing his hangover so she could speak to him about his son’s treatment.

- I’m sorry I spoke to you harshly a moment ago. – She apologised to Eril who looked startled by the apology. Nessa looked at Tom again, he appeared calm and so she squeezed his hand in support once more and let it go. She turned to his father and focused her attention on him; it was important that he understood that she was not the enemy here; that she was here to help him and his son. – I was worried that you were upsetting Tom by trying to make him remember how he got injured… Since he injured his head we need to make sure he doesn’t get aggravated as it might hinder his recovery…

She paused realising that she was again unconsciously starting to use medical terminology that the boy’s father couldn’t follow in his state. She looked around the room and noticed that there was some leftover mint and athelas infusion left at the cabinet. It would be lukewarm now, but it would certainly help minimise Eril’s headache.

- Excuse me for a moment. – She said and quickly moved towards the cabinet, startling the occupants of the room with her movement. She poured the lukewarm infusion into the cup and brought it over to Eril to drink.

- Please drink this. – She asked the man handing him the cup. – It’s an infusion of mint and athelas; it will ease your headache. – Eril slowly took the cup and looked at her, than at Tom. – I will go to the kitchen and bring all of us some tea, it will do us good. – She continued to speak before he could get a word in. – In the meantime you can drink the infusion I gave you… And you and Tom can talk… Stick to lighter subjects, and avoid those that might upset either of you. I’ll be back soon.

She smiled at them and walked over to Thea who was looking uncomfortable; holding the ointment in one hand and fidgeting with her purse. She gave the girl a gentle smile and gestured for her to follow her outside. She opened the door to the treatment room, waited for Thea exit and quietly closed the door before turning toward the girl.

- I’m sorry. – She apologised to the girl. – I know you were uncomfortable in that room and for that I apologise. And I’m sorry I couldn’t look at your arms properly. – She bit her lip feeling a twinge of guilt that she didn’t have more time at the moment to devote to the girl. She thought about her options and made a decision. – The salve I gave you should help you relieve some of the pain. You should carefully rub it in on clear, dry arms. If you can try to avoid harsh soaps… If not, just rub the salve on your hands and arms as frequently as you can. And one more thing before you go. – She said looking at Thea, aware that the girl wanted to leave the Houses of Healing as quickly as she could, and probably forget this entire incident that brought her here. – I want you to come see me at the Houses again. I would prefer if you would come here on the same day Tom gets discharged… – She paused for a moment and sighed. – As you clearly saw his family situation is not ideal and he will need all the friends and help he can get. I will try to do as much as I can for him, but I would also like if you can check up on him from time to time… Can you do that for me? Or am I asking to much of you little dove?

[Zôrzimril]

Tarawen
Study/Healer Quarters with Pele

She smiled as the healer took her leave, then crossed her arms upon the table and leaned forward to rest head over her right wrist. It was the truest posture to reflect her present weariness. The weight of her head pushed her closed eyes into delicate wrist bone and made colors pop behind her lids. She'd been fascinated by this phenomenon as a child, sometimes pushing her fists hard into her eyes just to see the colors; doing so now helped her stay awake, at the very least.

Alone in the still room, Tarawen turned over in her mind everything she had learned today - whether directly or indirectly. Her brother was gravely ill - so ill that the healers couldn't say whether or not he would survive. He had lasted this long, though. He had a wife and, it seemed, children. His wife's name was Enara. She was . . . confusing. First warm, then cold as the winter storms of the north. Tara could tell there would be plenty to unravel there. And Maenion was sorry. That had been almost the most surprising part, just behind finding him still alive. He was sorry! Well, today, Tarawen had learned that she was sorry for letting old grudges and heirlooms keep her from family. She had learned that the Houses of Healing held within it kind people like Pele, ready and willing to help those who entered seeking aid. It was not at all the place of severe structure and astringent herbs she recalled from childhood.

Why had she refused training and a place here? Because it tied her to one building, to one duty, to one identity. Because she hated the narrow confines of the stony streets and the claustrophobia of the press of people in the markets. Because she was motivated by doing more than helping people after they had been struck down; she wanted to strike down the foes who would harm them before they could land a blow. She was a woman of few words, but a woman of action all the same. The Houses of Healing were too reactionary, too much of a lagging indicator of what was going on in the wider world.

She sat up with a start when the door opened. Pele, accompanied by the wondrous, salty smell of hot broth, entered the room. Tarawen brushed stray strands of hair from her eyes and watched gratefully as the healer set out their meal: stew from which steam rose in curls to moisten the air, beautifully browned rolls of bread, and pale butter and honey. She looked down at her hands and wished she had washed them.

With warmth, Pele offered some advice on her visits to her brother. "That is a very good idea," Tara agreed. "I definitely would like to spend as much time with him as I can. I'm grateful for the tips you gave earlier about the best visiting hours, too. That should help me feel more at ease, anyway." She did not mention Enara's name, but she assumed that Pele would understand.

"I have been away for several years, yes. I hope that a re-established relationship is possible." She picked up her spoon and dipped it into the stew. She chewed a mouthful of chicken and bright vegetables with relish, then picked up a knife, ripped a roll in two, and spread some butter over the soft, warm inside. While sleep would ultimately be the best remedy for her exhaustion, each bite of food made her feel as though she was being brought back to life in incremental steps. "This is incredible, by the way," she went on with a smile. "I had no idea the Houses of Healing offered such fare! But tell me," she said, looking into Pele's face with curiosity, "what is your story here? How long have you worked in the Houses of Healing, and how did you come to be a healer?"

[Pele Alarion]

Pele with Tara
Study/Healer quarters

It seemed to Pele that she had disturbed Tara from a restful moment by her re-entry; however, food was a necessity and she was not sorry to be a disturber. The healer was of mind that a bite to eat would do both of them good, so each of them could go on with their respective tasks.

Careful not to burn her mouth, Pele ate a few spoonfuls of stew, deciding to leave the bread for a bit later to eat with honey and tea. It felt good and refreshing to sit down for a while and set aside the daily concerns, of which there was a plenty.

"Feel free to come and go as you wish," Pele then encouraged Tarawen. "I will ask the other healers and nurses that you are Maenion's sister and that they should not deter you in any way." Despite Enara's obvious upset at the first visit, the healer was quite convinced that the reunion of siblings was quite necessary, though she would not be able to support it in convincing words if asked. It might just as well be that trouble would come out of it, but she'd deal with it if the time came.

"The food might not be too kingly, but it is quite filling and nutritious - must make sure the patients are well fed," Pele commented on food. She had to admit that she wasn't sure whether she liked the meals better at the Houses of Healing or the Barracks, but at least she too was always satisfied with it, whenever she had time to eat and remembered to do so.

"I have been here... forever?" Pele said, dipping the spoon into the stew, and a small grin formed on her lips. "No, not really. Perhaps about ten years or so." For a few moments she thought of how to best explain her city life to Tara, and meanwhile ate some more of the stew. "I've always liked all things healing ever since my mother began teaching me as a child with a hope that I would become a healer and establish a proper life for myself. But alas - I was too adventurous and took up soldiering instead. Yet... after a couple campaigns I found that swinging a sword did not always help to protect and save a life, and wounds inflicted by enemies needed mending."

Pele looked out the window, lost in thought for a few moments, and then turned back to the conversation. "So I ended up attempting to master both the use of weapons and healing, somehow trying to combine the two seemingly opposite things. But now they don't seem so contrary to each other any more, rather complementary. But say... what is your story, if you don't mind sharing? Though feel free not to, since professionally I should be satisfied with the knowledge that you are Maenion's sister."

[Winddancer]

Thea with Nessa, Tom and Eril

Thea just about dropped her guts onto the floor when Tom's father yelled at Nessa in frustration, her face going stark white. Swallowing a lump the size of a fist, she looked back and forth between the man and the door that would lead her away from here and from any retribution he might want to inflict on her when he found out that she had inadvertantly been the cause of his son's accident. She had to leave, she couldn't stay, she had to go.

The panic rose steadily and she was about to lose it when Nessa headed her way again, this time however she was determined to leave. However Nessa caught her offguard when the woman led her out the door and Thea almost cried with relief when there was a door between her and the man inside. Legs shaking, she just wanted go though dutifully listened to the advice of how and when to apply the salve, almost getting impatient, eyes wandering constantly towards the exit. Almost there she thought to herself, quickly agreeing to stick to how to use the salve and starting to step towards the door when Nessa suddenly asked her to return when Tom was discharged.

"What!?" she blurted out, an anxious look crossing her already scared features. "But won't the father be there too?" Looking around nervously, Thea started taking a step towards the door. "I don't know.. I don't know how he will react to me being the one who caused the accident.. He scares me.." Her eyes widened in surprise, obviously not having meant to say the last part out loud. "I mean.. I don't think he will want me around his son when he finds out.." She looked at the older woman, desperate for her to understand.

[Nessa Saelind]

Nessa with Thea in front of the Treatment room

The situation she found herself by helping Tom and Thea when she arrived at the Houses of Healing after all this time was delicate, to say the least. Three things, nay three people, made everything more complicated and sensitive. Firstly, there was Thea’s guilt about the accident in which Tom was injured. The incident that was not fully explained, and Nessa didn’t think it would be, but it was obvious that Thea felt a tremendous amount of guilt and anxiety about the part she played in it. Then there was Tom’s father – a deeply troubled man who chose to deal with his traumas by drinking himself to oblivion. His behaviour unsettled her, and she was concerned about the effect it had on her. Finally, she needed to consider herself and her reactions.

Having a child for a patient always was and always would be difficult for her (and any other healer), for she could never fully emotionally detach herself and maintain a strictly professional demeanour. Especially after what happened to her at the end of the War. She was painfully aware that she would inevitably form a bond, some sort of connection with her younger patients… And it was happening again, here with Tom and Thea. She cared, perhaps more than she should, and that was the crux of the matter. Nessa looked at the girl in front of her, aware that her request was a source of anxiety. Indeed, Thea did look frightened and anxious, and the turbulent emotions were obvious in her movements and speech.

- What!? But won’t the father be there too? – The girl asked moving backwards and looking around nervously. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to run from Houses of Healing and never look back. – I don’t know… I don’t know how he will react to me being the one who caused the accident… He scares me…

Nessa noticed the surprised look on Thea’s face when she said that Tom’s father scared her and her heart ached for the girl. Clearly, she did not want to admit such a thing, but it slipped and now it was out in the open.

- I mean… I don’t think he will want me around his son when he finds out… – The girl looked at her desperately and Nessa had to close her eyes for a moment and breathe to calm herself. Once she felt in control again she looked Thea in the eye and started talking in a low voice.

- I swear to you that he will not find out about the part you played in the accident. – Her voice was low but firm. She paused for a moment and looked at Thea again. – I don’t think you told me the whole truth about the incident... – She quickly lifted her hand to stop the girl’s protests. – But it doesn’t matter and that’s not important. The important thing is that you brought Tom here and by doing that you saved his life! I don’t know if Tom will remember exactly what happened, or will he be willing to share his memory with his father. From the looks of things, I assume he will not…

Nessa grew quiet, allowing Thea to absorb what she told her. She leaned on the wall and suddenly she felt emotionally exhausted. The awareness that she still had to go back to the treatment room and speak to Tom’s father and write her report about what happened there didn’t help. She looked at Thea again; the girl wanted to leave but was rooted to the spot by her plea. She regretted that the girl felt so uncomfortable in a place of healing, where she was supposed to feel safe.

- It’s alright Thea. You can go now if you want to. – She said quietly with a sad smile. – I want you to know that you don’t have to feel any obligation toward Tom. You went above and beyond… – She sighed tiredly but forced herself to focus. – I still want you to come to the Houses of Healing and look for me so I can take a look at your arms and see if the ointment is helping. You can come whenever you wish, it doesn’t have to be on the day Tom gets discharged. Just… Please promise me you’ll come to see me? Even if it’s to have a cup of tea. – She finished with a soft smile.

[Zôrzimril]

Tarawen
Study/Healer Quarters with Pele

Tarawen continued to eat as Pele granted her leave to come and go as she pleased. She nodded gratefully as she swallowed another mouthful of the savory, steaming stew. "The food is wonderful," she managed to say, feeling her tongue pulse where the hot broth had scalded her mildly. "It is just what I needed."

She ripped another chunk of bread and slathered it with butter as Pele shared a bit of her own story. Ten years is a long time to do anything, thought Tarawen. At 28, she had not yet had a period of life during which she had done the same thing for such a stretch, and she wondered what it must be like to have such stability, such certainty. In some ways, it was quite an enticing prospect . . . and yet. And yet. Tarawen wasn't so sure she could last very long in this city, with the heat pulsing off the hard, indifferent stone, and the people crowded together, living right on top of one another. She swallowed another bite of bread as Pele told her story - how similar they were, and yet what different paths they had taken.

"Those are quite complementary skill sets. Does your healer training ever hold you back in battle, knowing what it might take to heal your enemy, or knowing how much pain they'll feel?" She paused, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"My story? Well, I was meant to train as a healer, too," Tara responded to Pele's gentle prompting. "My father - he wanted me to become a healer in his place, but I . . . well, I didn't want that." She took another bite of stew, contemplating as she chewed how to express what she felt without somehow insulting Pele's chosen life and occupation. Really, there was nothing wrong with a busy life in the city as a healer. Her younger, wayward self had simply rebelled.

"It wasn't so much that healing was such a bad option," she went on slowly. "It's just that I wanted to leave the city and to explore farther afield than Anórien, where we grew up. I wanted to achieve noble deeds and maybe even make a name for myself." Tarawen let out a short laugh, harsh with some regret. "Well, I have been far afield for several years now, with very little to show for my efforts. Maenion, on the other hand - he has been here, doing what our father wished, and now it seems he has everything a man could want in life." She put down her spoon and propped up her chin on one hand, her elbow resting upon the table. For a moment, she was lost in thought, reliving the last several years in fast-forward and wondering what she might have done differently. The dizzying whirl of images and memories overwhelmed her, but not with the active anxiety she expected. Instead, Tarawen's eyelids threatened to close, and her head felt heavy with the full weight of her exhaustion.

"I am sorry," she said. "I'm afraid I'm not very good company at the moment." She smiled apologetically and busied herself with gathering her cutlery, bowl, and plate. "I would be very grateful for some rest before I go in to see Maenion again, perhaps tomorrow at midday. Would that be alright?"

[Winddancer]

Thea with Nessa, Tom and Eril

And here she thought she was already feeling as guilty as she could, though Nessa now proved there was room to feel even more guilty. That Nessa knew there was more to the story and that Thea was withholding that information, hurt more than she thought possible, embarassed as Nessa waved the protests that she automatically spewed. Not for the first time today did she wonder at how bad a decision she had made earlier when she had decided to retake her lost wages from Ms Irma, it now even more clear to her how it was destroying her life and now also affecting people around her. It was definitely a harsh lesson to learn.

Tears welled to the young womans eyes as she watched Nessa slump tiredly against the wall, knowing she was doing this to the woman. And even so, despite having harmed a little boy and being secretive about the incident, here this woman was concerned with not just her condition with her hands, but also with her wellbeing. For the umpteenth time she wished the ground would open up and swallow her, cheeks going dark red then pale as bone all in a manner of seconds. How could she walk out these doors and live with what she had done? How could she ever spend a single coin, knowing just how much heartache she had cause strangers who seemed to care about her even if she did not deserve it.

Her pale face took on a tinge of green, having to swallow hard as she felt the bile rise and burn at the back of her throat. She couldn't. It was not who she was.

Drawing in a ragged breath, she swallowed hard once more and absentmindedly swiped the tears away that had fallen down her pale cheeks. Reaching down, she pulled the coin purse free from her belt and palmed it for a long second, though her eyes quickly rose to look at Nessa once more. Placing the coin purse in the woman's hands, she said "This is payment for Tom's treatment. Whatever is left, please make sure it goes to him, somehow. See that he gets an education of some kind, he does love his books.." her voice wavered at the last words and she had to cough to stop from sobbing.

But before Nessa could stop her or disuade her from what she intended next, she leaned in and hugged the woman, whispering "Thank you.." before letting her go. Though instead of fleeing out the door as her body wanted, she forced herself to turn towards the room Tom was in and with shaky legs she returned to the room. Holding the door open for a moment as she steeled herself as much as she could, she stepped inside and walked over to stand close to Tom's father. She purposefully did not look at Tom, afraid that if he showed any fear then she might lose the small amount of nerve she was managing. Clearing her throat to gain the father's attention, she spoke with a shaky voice.

"I caused your son's injury.." There was no point in trying to explain her encounter with the mysterious woman and the blood-signed scroll, instead opting for taking the full blame, which she in some way felt anyway.

"It was an accident. I opened the door when he was trying to enter and the door hit him and sent him into the wall where he hit his head." Shaking like a leaf, she cluched at her red hands as she wrung them together in front of her, trying to swallow the sobs.

"I am really sorry for having hurt Tom, it was of course not my intention to do so. I have made sure that his treatment here is paid for.." Her voice cracked at the last word and she fell silent, allowing for the father to respond even though all she wanted to do was flee.

[The Good Hunter]

Eril, with Thea, Nessa, and Tom
The Recovery Rooms

The women vacated the room, leaving something more than just space and silence. There were years in that room, years between Eril and his son, Tom. There was a vast, surely unfathomable gulf between them. Eril stared across that void to his son on the other side. The space between them stretched, Eril could almost feel himself getting pulled backwards while watching his son move away from him at the same time. The vertigo nearly toppled him over. He took a step back. His arms pinwheeled and his knees buckled. He looked up at the ceiling and watched it shoot skyward. He hit the floor hard, slamming his tailbone into the floor. Tiny pinpricks of light wafted through his vision. He stood back up on unsteady feet. He drew in a slow, deep breath and gulped.

What was he going to say? What could he say? He was so unerringly confused that he did not even know where to begin. What could he do? Was there anything he could do? Beyond what these women had told him, had admonished on him, had berated him with, he had no idea. How was he supposed to be a father? How could he be a father when he had no idea what that would even mean for him and Tom. Was there a way to start over? Was there way to start where they were? Had the gulf become too vast and too far? All these thoughts made his head swim. He was there again. He was in that place when they said his beloved wife was dead. His world had cracked open like an egg that day and everything spilled out.

The young woman returned to the room before Eril had found any answers. She looked, she looked like she was going to be ill, like something was wrong with her. He scrunched his brow in confusion. He was just about to ask her what was wrong with her when she spoke.

There was a ringing in his ears. A distance, shrill buzzing like the clang of iron on iron. It… it was her? She had done this? She had been the one who injured his boy? His Tom? The confusion he felt was replaced. It fled before the face of a cold fury that settled in his belly. He could feel his body tighten with rage. He was not sure how to be a good father, he realized he had no true experience at being a father. But somewhere, from some deep crevice within him, a voice told him this was where he could start.

“You…” he managed to say, realizing he was shaking. “You did this to my boy? You hurt my boy?” He was confused. She had treated Tom with the greatest of care, she had treated him with the greatest resentment. How could she have done this? His gorge rose. He swallowed it down and took a step toward her. Just a step. That single bit of movement was all he could trust himself to make. His shoulders tightened. He could feel an itch right in the middle of his back. He pushed his shoulders back and stood as tall as he could.

“How could you? He’s just a boy! What did you do? Why did you do it? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just leave the boy alone? Let him be in peace! You’ve got no right just coming in and ruining everything! No right at all! What’s in your head that you think you’ve any right at all to just…” he broken down in sobs. He knew he was speaking to the woman, but his words weren’t meant for her. They were meant for himself.

He looked at her, through a weary haze of tears long welling up. There was something else. Something else she wasn’t saying. If it had been an accident why had she been so… what was going on here? He drew in a shaky breath, swallowed his tears.

“What happened to my boy?”

[Nessa Saelind]

Treatment room of much drama – Nessa with Thea, Eril and Tom

Silence filled the hallway in front of the treatment room in which a tormented man tried to find a way to be a father to his injured son. Two women, lost in their thoughts, stood in front of the room. The healer, feeling the emotional weariness slowly ebb from her body, was still leaning against the wall. The young woman in front of her was rooted to the spot, wrestling with her conscience

The sound of Thea’s ragged breath drew Nessa from her thoughts and she looked at the girl who looked even more troubled than before. Before she could ask what was wrong she noticed that Thea was reaching down to her belt and pulling a coin purse. Their eyes locked and Nessa saw a whirlwind of emotions in the younger woman’s eyes. Shame, fear, determination… Thea moved and took the healer’s hand placing the coin purse in it and wrapping Nessa’s fingers tightly around it.

– This is payment for Tom’s treatment. – The girl’s voice was resolute. – Whatever is left, please make sure it goes to him, somehow. See that he gets an education of some kind, he does love his books…

Thea’s voice wavered at the end, she was fighting tears and Nessa felt her throat tightening and she blinked furiously to chase away the tears she knew where in her eyes. Before she could speak Thea leaned in and hugged her tightly, whispering a quiet thank you before quickly letting her go and opening the door to the treatment room. Nessa stood there frozen with tears in her eyes and her throat tight. Although, she could not utter a word, she glanced at the coin purse in her hand and then at Thea. She knew (and feared) what that brave, kind, but foolish girl was about to do.

The healer sighed knowing that although Thea was doing the right thing, she was doing it at the wrong time. However, she could not and would not stop her. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the room and closed the door quietly. And not a moment too soon for the boy’s father exploded and started yelling at the girl who was shaking like a leaf. Nessa’s clenched her fists and was about to raise her voice to remind both of them of their surroundings when she observed that Tom curled himself into a ball and was sobbing. Neither his father nor Thea noticed this; they were too wrapped in their own anger and guilt.

– Blood and iron! – Nessa cursed and moved, her skirt swishing with her movements, to the boy on the bed. The expression on her face must have been frightening for both Thea and Eril moved away as she passed and sat down on the bed leaving the coin purse on the night-stand next to it.

– Tom. Dearest. – She called softly and the boy looked up at her and threw himself on her, wrapping his arms around her tightly and continued to sob in her tunic. She held the boy tightly, running her hand through his hair and keeping her voice low whispered soothing words in an effort to calm the boy. – It’s alright little lion man. It’s alright. Don’t be scared. You’re safe here with me, I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe… It’s alright little one… I’m here. I’m here.

[Winddancer]

Thea with Nessa, Tom and Eril

Whoever said that words don't hurt, was a liar. Cringing back from the father's anger, she felt each word like a stab of a knife, each one cutting deep into her heart. Tears fell freely down her ghostly pale face, her hands clutching each other in front of her mouth as if trying to stem the sobs. If she had felt awful before, she now felt infinitely worse, feeling deep in her heart that she was a vile and despicable person. She deserved his wrath, she deserved his harsh words, she deserved any punishment he saw fit. What she was not expecting was his tears.

Barely able to see for the stream of tears that flowed from her eyes, she flinched back as Nessa aimed for her, though quickly passed and headed over to the boy. Fighting the wracking sobs, she watched as Nessa cuddled the boy into her lap, voice calm and soothing as she tried to calm the crying and scared boy. Was there no end to the torment this day was bringing? Her heart broke at seeing the distress the boy was in, her wet eyes flickering to the father who was still crying as well. She had done this, all this hurt and anger was because of her.

Sobbing still she did the only thing she could do, she turned on her heels and ran. Crying uncontrollably she bolted for the door and ripped it open, running through it before anyone could hold her back, wanting nothing more than to leave all this pain and hurt she had caused behind, but also desperate to not cause more. She almost collided with a young girl carrying a tray, leaving her dancing across the floor to save the bowls on it from sliding off, another sob escaping as it seemed wherever she went she was creating chaos. The scroll. She had to get that scroll back! All of this started when she signed that vile thing. Dodging past Ralph, she burst through the front doors of the House of Healing and out onto the street beyond.

[Pele Alarion]

Pele with Tarawen
Study/Healer Quarters

"I have no pity for orcs," Pele admitted when Tarawen asked her about the healing skills holding her back in battle. "With other people though... I do not kill unless it cannot be avoided. Suppose the healer side of me does interfere at times, though I know my duties as a soldier and do not avoid them in any way." At this she could not help but think of the Umbarians that kept on plaguing her; often she wondered whether killing them was the only way to get rid of them. Either that, or sooner or later they would end up destroying Pele.

Her eyes cast down, she finished her bowl of stew, listening to Tara's desire for glory and exploration. Pele could not help but conclude that this was something very similar between them, and yet she had found both a reasonable stability and adventures, sometimes even unwanted. And in a way she had established a name for herself, though she worked hard not to let it impact her life and decisions in undue manner.

"Don't take on unnecessary blame, Tarawen," she eventually said. "If anything it might only prevent you from successful future." She said no more on the matter thinking that she was not very good at following her own advice and set about making for herself a snack of a bread with a rich topping of butter and honey.

Seeing that Tara was about to nod off, the healer rose to her feet, still eating the sweet bread. "Leave the dishes and come along, I'll show you the room."

A spare recovery room

The meal finished, Pele led the way by the garden path to one of the nearby buildings and headed for the door to a small room that was made ready and yet vacant. It held nothing more than a bed, a small table and a chair, and a vase with flowers on the table.

"Here," she said, motioning to the room. "It does not have much in a way of wardrobe for clothes, but then again... you don't have much anyhow." Pele had taken note of the pack Tara carried, and the state of the travel-worn clothes. "Two doors down is a room with a tub and such, though I am not sure if there is any hot water brought in. You could have a quick wash before taking some necessary sleep."

She looked through the window and nodded towards the building opposite. "Maenion's room is right there, though I doubt you would see much from here... Now, if you need anything, hunt me down, I might be here unless somewhere on the training grounds. Any questions?" her blue eyes smiled warmly, though the same smile just barely touched her lips. With a few steps crossing the room to reach the door, Pele opened it and then looked back at Tara to see whether there was anything else she would like to clarify.

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta
Treatment Room, with Pele and Naela


Pele seemed altogether too pleased with her advice, he noticed. Or perhaps he had conjured up too comical an image in mind of his confessed ‘exertion’, for the woman to remember herself. Maybe she was simply smiling to convey a sense of calm. The girl, Naela was also all about the smiles. Their encouragement ought to have set him at the ease, but the setting for their performance undermined the motive somewhat.

Before Addhor could protest about the very notion of ‘slowing down’, the Master Healer handed him some potent smelling tea. If for no other reason than to silence his disagreement, though she claimed it equally for his own good. The veteran accepted it, not least of all, because it might serve as an alibi for wincing if the pain did become bad. He might merely claim to have sipped at the hot concoction before it was cooled. It was doubtful that she would believe that, still he knew the woman enough he thought, that she would let him play the charade. For the sake of dignity, if needed. Meanwhile her hands were free to be about their business, and his, cupping the mug, were now encumbered. All the better to distract him with. All the better for her to work with, unhindered. Clever girl, he recognised, though said naught. A smile was not quite manageable yet although the pain had eased considerably since the limb was freed of it’s trappings and weight. The warming elixir did not fail in it’s work, either. And was employed, quite deliberately, as the bandage was carefully removed.


The patient rose slightly in his seat as the last of the dressing was removed, as though he might brace for the discomfort by lifting the limb. His gaze though was averted, bracing just as much for the reaction. Might be this would have been easier to face with a stranger than a friend, but he had both present in the room. When Pele dismissed the sight of the sore, he released his breath he had unconsciously held; having maybe been more nervous than they for the reveal. The tea functioned just as promised and surprised him with the emptied mug, which required retaining all the same.

“It’s still there,” was as much as he could agree, to Pele’s observation and it wasn’t clear if he meant the infection or the limb. But either way, she had probably seen far worse, and Naela certainly would too. For all the fears which festered at the back of the man’s mind, the surgical wound had held up nicely. The initial injury, tended in emergency measures out in Ithilien, had been vulnerable to infection, but it’s secondary treatment had been conducted at these very houses of healing, under far more hygienic and well-equipped conditions. The extremely slow progress that the man had made in mobilising afterwards had allowed the stump itself a good long time to heal effectively.

The ‘complaint’ such as it was, had originated this time from a simple (if rather large) friction blister, no doubt from new leanings and positioning of his body during a new physical activity. Once the inflated skin had naturally rubbed and broken against the wooden leg’s brace, it had continually been denied a chance to heal. Somewhat constant cleaning (out of panic and concern) as well as the patient’s personal reliance on the wooden limb, had further then disturbed and bothered the wound. Pressing the swelling limb stubbornly into it’s attachment when it had already begun to throb with the consequent infection, had only inflamed it more, and furthered that swelling still further, unto a cycle of self-inflicted discomfort. The broken skin had erupted like a large and angry eye-shaped abscess as a response, it’s fragile fluid-filled sac shredded with each new movement that sheared across the fragile film of it. Clean bandages had daily seeped into the weeping wound, snagging at it with each new movement. And then were replaced, only to repeat over again.


So Pele was very much correct in that if pressure were removed of the site, if it were tended and allowed to sit, it might all have healed up by itself and by now, but mismanagement had thwarted that outcome. Clean it most certainly was, daily cleaned. But no more likely to settle down or improve, until it was properly allowed the time and space to do so.

Explaining this prognosis and the measures, more than medicine, that would be required to mend it, might be more devastating to Addhor than would hearing that more of the limb must go. Though if the infection were not halted, at some point it might spread to sepsis or far worse and then he would have in fact brought about his own worst fear ! For now though, the patient avoided the Healer’s glance by focusing and tightening his grip upon the mug. It was in an effort to avoid meeting those knowing blue eyes, that he noticed instead her small finger, or the lack thereof. Part of her small finger was missing ? That was new .. He said naught, and she had said naught. Not of all the time she’d been away or what had kept her.

But as distractions went, the thinking of such thrust their way through his own difficulties for a moment, and he dropped the mug before he’d registered he’d loosed his hold on it. Thankfully it was already empty when it smashed against the floor, parts of it rolling around even to where Naela had positioned herself for a better view.

[Winddancer]

Naela with Pele and Addhor

Willow bark, cinnamon and honey. Willow bark, cinnamon and honey. Willow bark, cinnamon and honey. She muttered the trio of ingredients over and over under her breath, finding that saying the words helped her remember them better. She vaguely recalled her grandmother having given her a willow bark and honey tea when she had had a particularly bad "female" pain. Though she had no idea what the cinnamon did, whether it was merely for taste or if it did something more. She made a mental note to ask later, suddenly wishing she had a notebook to jot all of this down.

As Pele peeled away the remainder of the bandage she winced, her nose wrinkling at the slight smell from the infection. Her grandmother had warned her of the various smells and had even come up with a few tricks to use to help when it was especially bad, however right now she neither had the access to any of those and to be fair the smell wasn't as bad as what she had been fearing when she saw the yellow patches on the bandages. However the wound itself still had her wincing. Not so much because of the wound itself, but more because of the mere thought of him daily pressing that wound into his wooden leg and walking on it. How could he bare that pain?

Stupified by his bravery, or stubborn determination, she was caught off guard when he suddenly dropped the mug. The sound of it shattering on the floor had her heart skipping a beat and she immediately reacted by dropping down to collect the pieces, her eyes occasionally returning to Addhor to make sure he wasn't unwell or was going to pass out. The mug was made of a sturdy clay and it had not broken into that many pieces, quickly managing to gather them all. Looking around she found a bin and deposited them in there, clapping her hands carefully together to wipe them of any of the smaller shards.

Knowing well how important it was to keep her hands clean, she made her way over to the wash basin and quickly washed them, drying them on the nearby towel before she returned to her spot at the end of the cot as if nothing had happened.

[Zôrzimril]

Tarawen with Pele
Study/Healer Quarters

“Orcs deserve none of our pity,” Tarawen affirmed. “And it makes sense that a healer would only kill when she must, though I can imagine it makes for... complicated choices in battle.”

She smiled as best she could when Pele encouraged her not to take on unnecessary blame. “Thank you. You’re very kind,” she said, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder before following the healer through the Houses of Healing and into another room.

Spare Recovery Room

Tara nearly cried at the sight of the bed, however spare the furnishings. It would be a blessed relief to sink into a mattress and sleep. Pele’s suggestion that she have a wash before sleeping, though, was a good one. She shook her head. “No questions. This is absolutely perfect and more than I ever would have expected. I will indeed have a wash - I think it’s evident that I need it.” She laughed. “But seriously,” she went on, “thank you again for everything today. I do hope to find you tomorrow to continue our conversation when I have more of my wits about me.”

Once Pele had taken her leave for the night, Tarawen went to the room that housed the tub. She found coarse towels, made for frequent use, and soap, then quickly washed from head to foot. She even worked some of the soap through her hair, gritty with dirt and dust from the road. The water was, as Pele had predicted, cold, so she did not spend more time than she had to in rinsing off. She found she felt refreshed if still exhausted. She dressed, pulling a fresh shirt from her pack, and returned to her room. Moments after her head hit the pillow - mercifully soft compared to the makeshift headrests she improvised in the wild - she was deeply asleep.

* * *

Bright beams of sunlight woke her the next day. For a second, she felt panic and a sinking in her stomach as she questioned where she was. Then it all came back - the trip south, the visit with her sick brother, Pele’s kindness. Tara rolled onto her side and drew the blanket over her head for a few more minutes, not yet ready to greet the day.

When she finally sat up, she saw that the courtyard between her building and that which housed Maenion was well lit. The light entered the room at such an angle as to suggest that it was late morning. More than likely, she had missed her chance for breakfast. But perhaps she could procure some lunch after a visit with her brother.

Maenion's Recovery Room

She walked the cool stone halls dressed in the fresh tunic she’d donned last night, travel stained leggings, and her usual boots. Her hair, cleaner than it had been in recent memory, was pulled back in a long braid which fell down her back. Her eyes were more alight with interest today than they had been the previous day; rest had given her a fresh sense of curiosity about this place.

She had watched through her window as Enara and two other people - adolescents, by their height - left Maenion’s room shortly after midday and took this as her cue for a visit. At Maenion’s door, she knocked softly three times before opening the door and looking in. There her brother lay.

“Hello again,” she began, entering the room and shutting the door behind her, feigning comfort at what felt like quite a bold act - to enter her brother's quarters without permission! “How are you feeling today? Did I just see your family leaving?”

[Winddancer]

Maenion with Tarawen

His fevers were coming and going. Ranging from almost killing him, to a mild heat to his face and an ache to his bones. What he liked least about them was the hallucinations. As if dreaming while awake, often not making sense to his family and on rare occasions even to himself. They were so vivid, he could at times feel the heat of the sun on his face only to be told that was the fever burning inside of him. It felt so real. At times he hoped they weren't, like when he dreamed back to the day his father died. Or the day that Tarawen stormed out of his life forever. Those dreams broke his heart all over again. Then there were the ones that made him feel happy, if only for a short while. Like dreams of him and Maegon wandering around the gardens, tending to the plants as the sun shone brightly overhead.

The most recent one had been a bit of both, breaking his heart and filling it with so much love that he could barely contain it. He had dreamed Tarawen had ridden from wherever she had been and come to see him! Him! She had come home, had sat with him for a brief moment until he fell asleep. Oh what he would give to dream that dream again. A small smile played on his lips as his wife kissed his brow, the feeling of her cool lips against his heated skin quite pleasant. He gave Maegon's hand a squeeze, his eyes trying to convey what he did not have the strength to. Poor boy, he did not deserve to watch his stepfather slowly die like this.

He did not know how long he had dozed, the door opening startling him awake, his foggy mind wondering if it was time for lunch. Or was it dinnertime already? With great effort he managed to turn his head enough to see who had entered, his feverish eyes widening as he realised it was Tarawen. "Tarawen!" he grunted out hoarsely, careful not to start another coughing fit. She was back! Glory be, he was having another dream of her. A large, yet weak smile lit his face up as he tried to lift his hand up to call her over, hoping that the dream would last a little longer than the last time. "Oh Tara.. I am so glad to see you.." A few coughs rattled through his chest, though he managed to swallow it back. "Oh how I wish you were really here.. Oh Tara, I so wanted to apologise before.." his voice faded away, finding it hard to say the words, even if it was just a dream.

[The Good Hunter]

Eril, in the Recovery Rooms with Nessa, Thea, and Tom

Eril was in a daze. Through all the bitter tears, his head had begun to throb. It pulsed and pulsed, sending shockwaves of dull pain down the sides of his temples. He felt woozy and short of breath. He was only halfway through his tirade at… who was his anger even directed at now? The old drunk’s head swam in confusion. The room seemed to pivot and spin and its axis. Eril doubled over and put his hands on his knees, trying to regain his equilibrium. It was hard though, through the tears that would not stop falling. The girl… where had she gone? He forced himself back into a standing position, overcompensating and nearly toppling over backwards. If the situation were not so tense and melodramatic, the cartwheeling of the man might have been called funny. He regained his balance a moment later, taking a step back to refocus his center of balance. He was dizzy and lightheaded.

“Where did she go? I…” he took a deep, shaking breath that didn’t feel like nearly enough air, “I need to tell her something… It’s not her, her fault. It’s okay… it was just, just a mistake. I know she, she, she didn’t mean…” he trailed off, doubling over once more. He tried to breath but every time he was able to, the air came up short. He began to panic.

Then the pain began. It started off quiet at first, a throb in his chest like a well-aimed punch. But soon the pain spread. It clawed up his back and squeezed. It wrapped around his neck like a serpent tightening for the kill. It moved to his arm and exploded like fire. It even moved to his jaw that felt like it was about to be ripped off completely. He tried to howl in pain but… he couldn’t. The air wouldn’t move into his lungs at all. He gasped for breath, gulping like a fish. Sweat poured off his brow. Where had that come from? Suddenly he felt like he was standing in front of a blast furnace with all the heat directed at him.

“Healer… I think, I think something is wrong. I can’t, I can’t.”

Before he could finish his statement the pain increased everywhere, tenfold. He tired to make for a chair but his movements were clumsy and unbalanced. He collapsed, barely making it. He managed a single, pitiful thought before he blacked out.

I’m sorry Tom. I’m so sorry.

[Zôrzimril]

Tarawen
Recovery Room with Maenion

Tarawen took a few tentative steps forward as her brother turned his head this way and that, eyelids fluttering while he dreamed fevered dreams. Of course. He was asleep. She had interrupted his much-needed rest. She spun about to walk back out of the room but stopped when Maenion called her name. Her heart jumped into her throat with grief at the sound of his hoarse voice. She turned slowly to face him. Her brother smiled and gestured for her to approach.

She swung a light chair around so she could sit near the bed. Her eyes welled with tears and she gave an awkward laugh. “I’m glad to see you, too,” she whispered, as if she were worried that speaking at full volume might agitate her brother. The lovely moment passed, though, at the words “I wish you were really here.” A shadow of sadness darkened Tara’s face.

“I am here,” she whispered urgently, louder now and leaning forward to put a hand on his. Perhaps this touch would recall him to reality? “I am here, and I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. I’m sorry for not writing. Or visiting.”

She glanced at the door. “I wish... I wish I had returned sooner. I wish I’d been more a part of your life. Then maybe Enara wouldn’t be so suspicious of me,” she finished, leaning back and brushing a rogue tear from her cheek. “I’ll just stay here for a little while,” she murmured, settling in to the wooden chair. It was not exactly comfortable, but since when had creature comforts been her priority? “In case you’re actually hearing me.”

[Pele Alarion]

Pele with Addhor and Naela
Treatment Room

Pele took her time in exploring the limb thoroughly for anything that might need to be cleaned or cut away, but it was apparent that Addhor had taken great care to keep the spot clean. She was very much engrossed in her investigations, when the mug broke, and it caused her to take a step back.

"What now, Addhor?" she asked, watching as Naela hastened to pick up the pieces without being asked. It was a good sign and seemed to show that the girl had a heart willing to serve, and that was a good trait of character to have for a healer. Then she followed Addhor's gaze and wondered whether it was her missing finger that had surprised him. It had taken her a good long while to get accustomed to it, and mostly people didn't seem to notice and didn't ask about it. So she decided not to mention of it - perhaps at some point, if he asked...

"Thank you, Naela," she then acknowledged the quick response of the young woman. "Well done."

Turning her attention back to Addhor's leg, she said: "Well, it is sore and inflamed, but it can only be expected," she explained the condition to him. "I will give you a soothing ointment to use on it; however..." the healer paused to consider how to best present the necessary measures to the man. "For it to heal completely you will need to find a way to avoid constant friction with your support. I mean... Don't use it for some time and find activities that don't require it."

From what she knew of Addhor her words might sound awful to him, so she added: "It is only a temporary measure for your protection - if you don't let the wound rest, it will only get worse whether you clean it or not. Is there a way for you to do your work without using the support?"

[Winddancer]

Maenion with Tarawen

"I mourned you for a long time... longer than father.." He did not know if he had thought the words or spoken them out loud. Eyes closed, finding it hard to keep them open, he tried his best to squeeze his sister's hand. Vivid images of that day flashed before his eyes. It was so long ago, but those few moments were seared into his memory, often coming back to haunt him. He had tried to find her, or at least tried to get some kind of news of her whereabouts and whether she was doing ok. But nothing. In many ways it had been worse than losing their father. With parents it is expected and he had known it had happened and where he was buried. But the not knowing had worn away at him, made him even more solitary than he had been before, unable to let go of the guilt that had followed.

"I am so sorry Tara.. I never meant to push you out of my life. I have often wished I could go back and start that day over. Please.. forgive me.." His voice was barely a hoarse whisper, his eyes still closed, his breathing shallow and ragged. He slipped into a fitful sleep as his fever creeped up once more. Going from sweating to shivering in minutes, his sleep was anything but peaceful, often calling out his sister's name.

Half an hour passed this way when suddenly he started awake, a violent coughing fit bending him in two. It wracked his gaunt body, rattling his lungs so fiercely it almost sounded like they would break apart. When the fit finally subsided he fell back weakly against the stack of pillows that had been disrupted by his coughing and saw his sister sitting next to him.

"Tara? Is that really you?"

[Fuin Elda]

Fuin
Reception Room

She stumbled in, the Guards at the Gate had let her pass with little fight as she murmured she needed the House of Healing. That was not a lie by any means. How she had managed to reach Minas Tirith from where she had come from on her own power was not entirely obvious perhaps she'd been in the recent Battle, perhaps she had come from elsewhere. She had some strength to her to have travelled any distance on her own. Her face was bruised and blood crusted one eye, leaving the question of the use of that eye to the winds for the moment, her other was darting about in a haze. The amount of weight she could put onto her one leg was negligible at best and that leg was coated in blood as well and a torn strip of cloth that was certainly no longer clean wrapped about it tightly to slow the bleeding. The Guard had caught her as she had started to go down, she smelt terrible, and as his and brushed her back he could feel her ribs shifting. The contact though brought her to waking again and she leapt away using what strength was left in her body her eye wild and wide, though clouded with pain and not focusing correctly he put his hands up. He would do his best to get her to the house of healing as his fellow motioned for him to help with him being the newest and lowest ranking of them and none of them overly wanting to deal with the smell of the elf that had stumbled into their fair city.

Several times he tried to touch her but her mind was clouded some dark task had been before her and she was too wounded now it seemed to discern friend from foe. He followed her though in case the healers needed someone to restrain her or if she tried to do them harm. There was no one in the reception room when they finally arrived, and the guard started to call out however the elleths body seemed to have realized she'd made it to her goal. Perhaps she had been there before, after all elves lived long lives and it could have been from well before his time that she had been here last and she seemed to relax and with that relaxation she tumbled. He tried to catch her and managed for the most part, protecting her head from striking the ground though unfortunately her arm struck the table and wiped the vase of flowers from it with a crash, alerting anyone near enough to the presence of an issue in the reception room.

The guard half expected that to start her back into a fight stance however apparently her body was done now and she stayed at least as far as he could tell for he was no healer... blessedly unconscious.

[Nessa Saelind]

Treatment room – Nessa with Tom and Eril

Her presence and soothing voice slowly, but surely affected Tom and he grew calmer. He still held on to her, but his hold was looser and the tears stopped. The lad looked worn out and she was about to coax him to lie back down and get some rest when a noise behind her made her turn around. Thea’s sobbing intensified and, before Nessa could utter a word, or do anything, the girl turned on her heels and ran for the door.

– Thea! – Nessa called after her, but the girl was too preoccupied with her anguish to hear her.

Thea ripped the door open, the sound echoing through the halls and mixing with the sound of her sobbing, thus attracting the attention of the staff and any passers-by. The girl threw herself out of the room and ran through the hallway out of the building. The occupants of the treatment room were stunned to silence, and an artificial stillness descended on the room like a spell that was broken by two simultaneous events: the arrival of Angelica with another nurse and Eril’s utterance

– Where did she go? I… – Tom’s father started to speak, paused, tried to take a deep breath. Struggled to breathe, needing to speak, to get the words out. – I need to tell her something… – His voice was raspy, his breathing difficult and Nessa, who was the closest healer, carefully and ever so gently extracted herself from Tom and moved to go towards his father. However, before she could reach him she saw the man twitching in pain. Observing the movements of his body it looked like the pain was spreading in a fluid motion from his chest, then up to his back, wrapping around his arm and reaching up to his neck. Eril bent over, sweating, overcome with pain, gasping for breath.

– Healer… I think, I think something is wrong. I can’t, I can’t. – Eril barely managed to utter the words. Clutching a hand to his heart, with clumsy and uncoordinated movements he shambled to the chair, collapsed and lost consciousness.

The stillness that held the room moments ago disappeared, replaced by a flurry of movements. Nessa was by his side instantly, making sure that his airway was unobstructed, and placing her right hand on his neck to search for a pulse. It was faint, erratic and out of sync, she had trouble detecting it, but find it she did. She needed to lower the man onto a hard surface to administer chest compressions. The treatment table would be ideal, but there was no time, so the floor would do for now.

Meanwhile, Angelica and the other women were busy taking care of Tom who was crying out for his father. With a combination of firmness and gentleness, characteristic for healers, the women managed to calm the boy enough to take him out of the room. As the door to the treatment room closed and Tom’s cries faded, Nessa felt a wave of relief and guilt wash over her, but she forced herself to push those feelings aside. She felt a gentle, supporting hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Angelica standing next to her.

– He suffered a heart attack. – She told the older woman who needed no further explanation. Together they moved Eril from the chair to the floor. Remembering Quintus de Scardena’s lessons about the cardiovascular system, Nessa opened the man’s shirt and placed the heel of her right hand on the centre of his chest, then placed the heel of her left hand on top of the right and laced her fingers together. Keeping her arms straight and her shoulders directly over her hands she started pushing hard and fast on his chest, making sure that it rose completely before pushing down again.

Even as she performed the procedure she was not certain of its outcome. There were so many things about the condition of the human heart that was unknowable to healers. In most cases, they did not have the means to fix what was broken inside before it was too late. They did what they could, with the knowledge and tools at their disposal, but more often than not the outcome was out of their hands. She hoped that this was not one of such cases. She kept working, making sure that the rhythm of compression remained steady, trying to save a man who wanted nothing more than to forget the pain of losing his wife. Nessa fought to restart Eril’s heart, despite the odds being against her, for his son that deserved so much more than life had given him. She pushed again and again because she was a healer and she fought against disease and wounds.

– His heartbeat is steady. – Angelica spoke, her hand on the man’s neck, as she checked and counted the number of heartbeats per minute. Nessa looked at the older healer and let out a breath she wasn’t even aware she was holding. She moved her hands from his chest and allowed herself a moment of respite.
– He’s not out of the woods yet. – She said after a pause and the older woman nodded in agreement. – We need to move him to the treatment table so I can apply leeches.
– Leeches? – The older healer asked with a raised eyebrow, but there was a faint smile on her lips and Nessa felt like she was being tested.
– I need to lower the pressure on his heart by thinning his blood. – She started to explain her decision. – I could perform phlebotomy, or use a cupping method, but leeches will do the same thing, only less invasive. Besides, – she added with a quirk of her lips – my mentor preferred leeches.
– Yes, Quintus de Scardena is known for his rather unorthodox practices. – Angelica commented, then signalled that she was ready to help her move the patient.

Working together they managed to lift Eril and move him from the floor to the treatment table. As Angelica went to get the container with leeches along with the long non-toothed forceps, Nessa focused on Eril’s condition. He was still unconscious, his breathing and heartbeat faint, but steady. She removed his shirt and washed his arms with soap and water. When Angelica returned, she took the forceps from her and extracted a single leech from the container and placed the creature on his right forearm just below the elbow where the blood vessel was most prominent. The hirudinean attached itself and started feeding. She repeated the procedure on the other arm, and when both leeches were attached and feeding she placed some dampened gauze around to make sure the creature’s movements were restricted.

There was not much they could do for the patient now, except monitor his condition and wait until the leeches finish feeding and detach themselves. The women used this time to perform other tasks: Nessa moved to the counter to prepare a low dose of milk of the poppy, while Angelica made sure that the container with leeches was tightly shut and secured before she started sorting things around the treatment room.

– Nessa – the older healer called her name and she turned to look at her. Angelica was standing next to the night-stand gesturing to the coin purse Thea gave her, and which she (rather carelessly, she admitted to herself) left there.
– Ah… That. – She said and motioned to the healer to take the pouch and join her so they could talk quietly. – The girl, Thea, who brought Tom here to the Houses gave this to me as payment for the boy’s treatment. – She said quietly when the woman joined her. – There is something not quite right there… I can’t put my finger on it… Regardless, I would like to discuss this matter, along with the reason I came here today, with the Warden, or a senior administrator…
– Perhaps your old mentor? – Angelica asked and smiled when she saw the look of surprise on the young healer’s face. – Quintus de Scardena is now a senior administrator in the Houses of Healing. A promotion he wasn’t too keen on... – She paused and they exchanged knowing looks.
– If you could arrange that I would be most grateful. – Nessa replied somewhat relieved that she would discuss this unexpectedly complicated matter with someone she respected and trusted.
– I shall see to it when we finish here. – The older healer replied and they continued with their work.

***

Treatment room, heading to the Recovery room

After an hour the leeches had their fill and detached themselves from Eril’s arms. Using the same long non-toothed forceps Nessa scooped them up and returned them to the container and made sure it was properly sealed. The patient’s heartbeat and breathing were stable, and his colour moved from deathly pale to a somewhat healthier shade of pale. As she was staunching the blood flow from the small punctures where the leeches fed, Angelica went out of the room to get two assistants with a stretcher so they could transport Eril to the recovery room where his son was waiting. As she waited she noticed that he was coming to and fetched the cup with the milk of the poppy she prepared beforehand. He was groggy and still in pain, so she carefully administered the painkiller and not long after the man drank he fell into a healing sleep.

She puttered around the room, picking up her satchel from the cabinet and making sure she placed the coin purse Thea gave her in the satchel. The pouch and its content troubled her, but not as much as the fate of the girl who gave it to her. She worried about the girl and wondered how she could find her; she knew that something was troubling Thea and wanted to help. Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of Angelica with the two men who carried a stretcher. With much care, they transferred Eril from the treatment table to the stretcher and carried him out of the room. She followed after them, assuring Angelica that she would meet her in the Administration building.

She walked behind the men who carried Tom’s father to another building where the rooms of recovery where. A feeling of unease overtook her as she neared the recovery room prepared for Tom and his father. She didn’t think it was the same room she recovered in, but the look and feel of it were similar enough to evoke the memory of her stay there. She paused in front of the room for a moment to take a breath and collect her thoughts. She would be of no help to Tom and his father if she got lost in her memories. When she felt herself in control she walked into the room and moved over to Tom who was sitting on the bed, afraid to move.

– Hello Tom. – She greeted him and sat down on the bed next to him. As before the lad reached for her and she hugged him, her right hand going through his hair. – Your dad’s alright now…
– Will he live mistress? – Tom asked quietly, moving away from her so he could look her in the eye.
– Eru willing. – She uttered the phrase. – I will not lie to you Tom, your father's condition is serious, and it will require a drastic change in his lifestyle, but his condition can be managed. – She said looking the boy in the eyes and noticing some of the tension disappearing from his face and body. – It will be difficult, he's going to need help and discipline, but as I said, his condition can be managed with medication. We'll talk more about that tomorrow when he wakes up. Right now both of you need rest.
– Will you stay mistress? – The boy asked and she smiled at him.
– I’m afraid I can’t stay long now – she replied and the boy looked crestfallen. – But, I’ll come back tomorrow to talk to both of you. Don’t worry, the nurses and other healers will be checking up on your dad regularly.
- Promise?
– I promise. – She told him and kissed his forehead. He smiled at her, lied down on the bed while she tucked him in. The lad was exhausted and not long after his head touched the pillow he fell asleep. She smiled at the sleeping boy and went over to his father to check on him once more. After she reassured herself that there was nothing more she could do, she left the room stopping by the nurses’ station to inform them about the new patients in the recovery room. With that done she headed to the Administration building to meet with Angelica and discuss this matter with her old mentor.

***

Administration Building

The walk from the recovery rooms to the administrative building where Quintus de Scardena, Nessa’s old mentor, had his office was short. She looked forward to seeing him since they had not seen each other after she left Minas Tirith not long after the war ended. They did keep up their correspondence, although the letters between his children, Decius and Iris, and herself were more frequent than those between herself and her mentor.

When she arrived at his office Angelica was already there, briefing the senior administrator about Tom's and Eril's condition. Upon seeing his former apprentice at the door Quintus got up and greeted her warmly. He still looked the same as she remembered him, tall, lean, stormy grey eyes, a touch of grey in his hair and beard. They exchanged pleasantries and he was genuinely pleased to hear she and her family were back in the White City.

– Angelica just informed me about your patients. – Quintus said after they all took their seats and the offered tea. – An interesting welcome.
– Indeed – Nessa replied with a smile. – Although, – she continued her face turning serious. – I am still not officially an employee, I came to talk to the Warden about resuming my work at the Houses… You could say I stumbled upon Thea who was holding the injured boy, Tom, in her arms and…
– You did what you were trained to do. – Her mentor interrupted her. – Which was the correct course of action. Angelica told me what she saw and heard – he nodded to the other healer. – Now I want to hear what happened from your point of view. Walk me through what you saw, heard and did.

Nessa nodded and after a few moments to gather her thoughts she started speaking. She described what she saw when she entered the Houses of Healing, Thea’s appearance and behaviour, the way the girl described the accident. She continued with the description of Tom’s condition, the examination and treatment, noticing that both healers were nodding their heads in agreement. Pausing for a moment she decided to mention how odd the whole case seemed to her from the start. Not the injury itself, children could often injure themselves playing, but rather the way Thea spoke about the injury, the things she said and the things she chose not to say. She spoke her thoughts freely and uninterrupted, Quintus listened to his former apprentice, making notes on a piece of parchment on his desk. When she finished speaking the occupants of the room were quiet for a long while.

– I agree with you that there is something odd about this incident. – Quintus said after a while. – But that is for the City Guard to investigate, not us. And it would appear that they’ve already begun.
– What do you mean? – Nessa asked confused.
– There was a commotion in front of the Houses after the girl left. – Angelica replied. – I heard about it after I left you. It would seem that Thea was accused of stealing money from her employer and a Guard took her in for questioning.
– Oh! – She exclaimed and looked from her mentor to the other healer. The already delicate and complex situation became even more sensitive and complicated. She bit her lip thinking what could she do to resolve this
– This issue isn't about covering the cost of the treatment for Tom and his father. – Quintus said gently seeing that the young healer was distressed. – That can be covered by other means, and I don't mean from your pocket, dear. – He stressed seeing that she was about to offer to pay.
– You're concerned about the origin of the money. – The words rushed out of her mouth, and she waved her hand before he could protest. A vague outline of a plan began to form and she pushed forward, talking quickly. – Even if Thea gained the money illegally, which as you mentioned before is not on us to investigate, the money was donated to the Houses of Healing. If I hadn't mentioned who the donor was, it would have been registered in the account book as an anonymous donation!
– But you had mentioned it, and I do know. – Quintus de Scardena replied watching his former apprentice. From the first time he met her he knew that the girl, woman now, was sensitive and emphatic. But there was a stubbornness in her, in him as well, and it forced both of them to search for ways to help others, even when the odds were against them. “There is always a way” was their driving force, however, he knew from experience that it could also break them.
– Let it go, Quintus. – Angelica spoke and he looked at the other healer. – You know as well as I do that the origin of many donations to the Houses of Healing is not exactly legal. Still, we accept the money, for the Houses need the funds. – She said that with a kind, accepting smile; that is how things were. – Your should not be surprised that your former apprentice inherited your unorthodox practices. She is stubborn, just like you are, she will not let this matter go.

Quintus de Scardena laughed at the older healer’s words and shook his head. – Alright, alright… – He spoke with a small sigh, knowing when to give up. – An anonymous donation will be logged into the accounting book.
– Pro anima mea. – Nessa said suddenly and the healers shared a look between them and laughed.
– You always were too clever for your own good. – Quintus told her, with a quirk of his lips. – For the salvation of my soul indeed. – He shook his head once again and then looked at Nessa sternly. – Listen to me lass, go home and spend time with your husband and daughter. No objections lass! Your patients are taken care of and looked after. Spend time with your family. You are allowed to tell your husband what happened here today if you wish. I expect to see you at work tomorrow.
– Yes sir. – She said gratefully and took her to leave of them and left the Houses of Healing, her thoughts whirling.

***

Next day, Recover room – Nessa with Tom and Eril

As instructed she showed up at work tomorrow and after speaking with the nurses she went to see Tom and Eril. When she entered the room she saw that both of them were awake. Tom certainly looked better, he was well-rested, his colour was good and he wasn't feeling dizzy or nauseous. His father looked a bit better, on the pale side and still in pain, but from what she could see at the moment it looked like the man would survive this episode, and barring any complication, he could recover.

– Hello – she greeted both of them and took a chair next to Eril’s bed. – If you’re up to it I would like to talk to you about your illness and treatment.

[Nessa Saelind]

Reception – Nessa and NPC Matilda attending to Fuin

Two young women dressed in grey were returning from the gardens of the Houses of Healing where they spent their lunch break. The slightly taller of the two was olive-skinned, her chocolate brown hair pulled up into a loose bun. Her companion was light-skinned, her shiny golden hair plated in a fishtail braid, cornflower blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. As they walked to the reception area they talked animatedly.

– Now, I really must get that book. – Matilda, the golden-haired nurse, told the healer walking beside her. – What did you say it was called?
– Hezār Afsān. – Nessa replied smiling as she watched the nurse trying to pronounce the unknown words. – It translates as A Thousand Tales, and it’s quite sought out these days, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find in the City. – She said thoughtfully. – Perhaps the Library has a copy… The Quill and Inkpot surely must have…

A cry coming from the reception, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor interrupted the healer mid-sentence and both women rushed to see what had happened. Upon arrival they were greeted by a rather unusual sight: a member of the City Guard had managed to prevent an unconscious person from falling and hurting themselves by catching them. Unfortunately, the vase with the flowers was not so lucky. Lacking a gallant saviour it crashed to the floor spilling its content and shattering into many small pieces. It forced Nessa to move carefully to the City Guard and the unconscious elleth (for now she could see that the person was indeed an elf-maid) while Matilda fetched the broom and dustpan behind the reception and started sweeping.

– What happened to you? – Nessa spoke quietly as she catalogued the injuries she could see on the elleth. The elf-maid’s lovely face was bruised, one eye crusted with blood. Looking for further injuries and hoping that the elf’s ribs were not broken she noticed a blood-soaked strip cloth that was wrapped tightly around an injured leg.
– She came in looking like that ma’am. – The Guard’s voice interrupted her musings and she looked up to him with an arched eyebrow inviting him to continue speaking. Which he did. – She stumbled through the City Gate injured, muttering about needing the Houses of Healing…
– I see. – Nessa interrupted the Guard and looked up to see if Matilda finished clearing the debris. The nurse was standing behind the reception looking at Ralph’s carefully marked chart, the broom and the dustpan stored away.
– We’re in luck. - Matilda said looking up at Nessa and the Guard. – The nearest treatment room is unoccupied. Right, you there. – She motioned at the Guard who snapped at attention. – You’re going to help me put her on the stretcher and carry her to the treatment room, allowing the hælend – she teased Nessa using the Rohirric term for a healer. – To prepare her instruments and ointments.
– Yes ma’am. - The guard said and went to do the nurse’s bidding, while Nessa hid a smile and went to prepare the treatment room.

Treatment room

Before the elleth was brought to the treatment room Nessa managed to wash her hands in a basin, find clean washcloths, sponges, large scissors and fill several basins and vessels with water. When the patient was finally brought to the room, placed on the treatment table and the Guard dismissed, Nessa and Matilda set to work. The nurse first washed her hands in a basin, then took a washcloth and a basin with clean water and started cleaning the elleth’s face, while Nessa checked if the elf-maid’s ribs were broken, which thankfully they were not. Heavily bruised, but no broken ribs.

She then turned her attention to the injured leg. Taking the large scissors in her right hand she quickly but carefully cut the elleth’s damaged clothes and removed it. Putting the scissors down she thought that in the end, they would have to take scissors to every part of the elf-maid’s garments. There was no mending them. With much care, she then removed the blood-soaked cloth that was used to bandage and stop the bleeding from the injured leg. The strip of cloth had done its job since the laceration was no longer bleeding, but before she rinsed the wound with water she stopped and leaned in slightly trying to detect poison by scent.

– You think the weapon might have been poisoned? – Matilda asked when Nessa finished.
– Could have been, but thankfully isn’t. – She replied and the nurse nodded getting back to her work.

Nessa took a jug with water and carefully started rinsing the wound. She had to repeat this a few times until she was sure it was clean. She then soaked a washcloth in water and gently whipped around the wound, careful not to irritate it. When she was sure that the wound and the area around it was clean, and any foreign material was removed from it, she applied a concoction of rosemary, turmeric and calendula in the form of an ointment on the wound and bandaged the wound.

– I’ll have to fetch some ice for her face. – Matilda said after she saw that the young healer finished tending to the elleth’s injured leg. – Although you don’t need me telling you what to do, you might start preparing some milk of the poppy. She’ll be in a lot of pain when she wakes up.
- Mhmmm, and find something to bring the fever down if it shows. – Nessa replied thinking what could she use for that. – Not willow bark, though. It thins the blood, and elf or not she can’t afford to lose more than she already did.
– Keep thinking, hælend, and it will come to you. – The nurse said with a grin and went out of the treatment room to fetch ice while Nessa started preparing a low dose of the milk of the poppy while keeping an eye on her patient.

[Zôrzimril]

Tarawen
Recovery Room with Maenion

Tarawen was dozing. The warm sun streaming through the window had lulled her into a state of extreme drowsiness, try as she might to keep her eyes open and mind her brother’s breathing, a ragged rattle which had grated punishingly on her ears at first. With time, though, it faded into the background of this long-awaited sibling reunion.

A dry, hoarse whisper of regret passed Maenion’s lips. Tara stirred in time to hear the words, “I mourned you for a long time... longer than father...” She slowly blinked away her fatigue and sat up in her chair. Maenion continued to speak, though his eyes were closed. She could not discern whether he was awake or not, and she didn’t dare interrupt his sleep if he was truly resting. But how restful were dreams filled with such sorrow and regret?

She slumped back into her chair as Maenion’s uttering ceased and his breathing slowed. It seemed he was indeed asleep. A cough which seemed to lift her brother out of his bed jolted Tara with fright. She had never heard anyone wracked with such a hacking cough in her life. When he finally stilled and looked at her with recognition in his face, she smiled weakly.

“Yes, it’s me, big brother,” she chided him, almost playfully. “I’ve been sitting here for quite some time.”

With the agility she’d learned in the wild, she rose and stepped lightly to a table upon which sat a pitcher of water; she poured some into a cup and was back at her brother’s side before he could respond.

“You’ve been talking in your sleep,” she went on, holding out the cup a bit roughly. “Um. Can I help you to drink this? And did you know I was here earlier, or...” She trailed off. There was no time to waste. She could not forget what Pele had told her: it was quite possible her brother would not survive this illness.

“I’m sorry, Maenion. I want you to know that I'm here to stay while you recover. I’d like to make up for my absence. And get to know you and your family a bit better. What do you say to that?”

[Fuin Elda]

Treatment room
The City Guard/Fuin

The Guard for his part pulled the elleths weapons from her once they were into the healing room setting them aside for the healers for he had far more experience with removing hard leather strapping and the sword, dagger and bow and quiver that had been improperly put on were placed off to the side out of the way of the healers as far as he was aware. Giving the situation on last look over he nodded and then realized that for all her calmness now she had been more than willing to put up a fight while half dead.

"Oh before I leave, you should be aware, part of why I escorted her to the house of healing is because she was... combative when she was semi conscious. I do not know if when she wakes she'll still be in that state, but I'd suggest keeping her weapons away from her until she is fully awake." He said making sure that the healers heard him before turning aside to return to his post at the city gate.



Fuin for her part was lost in strange twisted dreams deep within her mind, she was still as it were fighting in those dark dungeons. She had not expected to get nearly as wounded as she had, though in truth the worst of it was her head, it felt as if it were throbbing endlessly. She wasn't aware of what was going on about her, she vaguely remembered getting some place safe - where did she get to? She couldn't remember no matter how hard she tried. She could hear voices strange and muffled as if she were hearing them from the far side of a mountain tunnel distorted and echoed and unintelligible, pain did cut through the throbbing noise in her head though she do naught about it. Someone was touching her leg mentally she snarled, more at herself than them, though she was quite angry at whoever was touching her as well more because she didn't know who it was and if it was a healer why was her leg not being washed with something that would numb it while they cleaned it like Plantain weed not realizing just how badly she was injured externally or she would know just how gentle the healers were being.

It hurt horribly but she was far enough into her own mind that her body did not react in the least, at least not that she could tell save perhaps a hiss of breath, or a slight groan at the cleaning. She needed to get out of this place in her mind, she needed to be able to tend to her wounds to defend herself, for she could not remember that she had made it to the House of Healing in Gondor and she could not tell that they were doing an excellent job of what was a very difficult task since she could not tell them what all was wrong with her.

For her part she buckled down, fighting through the noise that was in her head she managed to force the thundering noise aside, not realizing just how badly concussed she was, keeping that noise at bay so that she could concentrate on her mind was taking every bit of effort that she had and she swore she could faintly hear a gurgling noise from somewhere deep within; perhaps a nightmare caused by almost drowning in the final area of the dungeon pulled under by the dark creature that had dwelt there. As she managed to hold her position mentally her eyes had snapped open the first sign of any true movement from her bodily, but she was not seeing, the did not track nor focus on anything, though upon a look at them now that the one could open after the blood was cleaned away, her pupils were not matching.

[Nessa Saelind]

Treatment room – Nessa and NPC Matilda treating Fuin’s injuries

Nessa walked over to the locked cabinet where a variety of painkillers and opiates in various stages of preparation were kept. She found the key to the cabinet, right where it was supposed to be, and held it in her hand while she looked through the glass at the cabinet’s content. She thought about the ingredients for the anodyne, the amounts needed for the dosage she wanted. The injured elleth on the treatment table was the first elf she ever treated, she was not entirely sure if the dosages she used on her human patients would be adequate for an elf. Would she need to increase the dose of the anodyne for it to work on the elf-maid, or would she need to use even lower amounts?

The Guard had mentioned that the elleth was “combative” when she arrived at the City Gates, and he had removed the weapons from her and placed them in the far corner of the treatment room. She sighed and decided she would do what she usually did when she needed to administer an analgesic. Unlocking the cabinet she quickly located the vessels with the ingredients she needed, took them out and locked the cabinet. She placed the jars on the work desk next to the pestle and mortar and turned to return the key where she found it.

A noise from the treatment table made her hasten back to her patient. When she reached her patient she noticed that the elleth’s eyes were open, however, her pupils were dilated and unequal in size. Nessa chided herself for not checking on this before Matilda left the room or at least asking the nurse about it. But there would be plenty of time for self-reprimand latter; right now she needed to calm her agitated patient. Once again she paused to think before she uttered a word. Most likely the elleth would know and understand Westron, but in the state that she was in perhaps, it was better if she spoke to her in Sindarin.

– You are in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. You are safe, no one will harm you here. – Nessa spoke to the elleth in Sindarin, which she hadn’t used in a long time, and hoped that the elf-maid would understand her despite her Pelargir accent. – My name is Nessa and I am a healer in these Houses. – She continued to speak with a calm and soothing voice to the half-conscious elf-maid. – I need you to stay calm and not move. I’ve treated the wound on your leg, and if you would permit me I would like to treat the rest of your wounds.

As she was speaking she heard the door opening and knew that Matilda entered the room carrying a bowl with ice. She did not pause in her speech knowing that the nurse would know that their patient had regained consciousness and needed to be calmed. Matilda approached the treatment table cautiously still holding the bowl with ice in her hands.

– How can I help hælend? – The nurse asked quietly in Westron, still using the Rohirric term, but this time as an endearment of sorts.
– Some dried athelas crushed in hot water would be a fine start. – Nessa replied switching from Sindarin to Westron; her Pelargir accent more prominent in the Common Speech.

The nurse nodded her head and went to do as instructed while Nessa stood next to the patient, watching, but not moving. She did not want to aggravate her patient; she would go slow, allowing the smell of athelas to fill the room and her voice to calm down the patient. Then, when their patient knew she was safe from harm and calmed herself, they would continue to treat her other wounds.

[Fuin Elda]

Treatment room

Somewhere in the distance she could hear them speaking to her in elvish. Her own tongue, though, it was garbled and hard to understand, was it because of her head injury or where they just not use to speaking Sindarin? She was pretty certain she heard healer and a few other words but she was quite certain that it was no elf speaking, though the words she did catch made her think it was perhaps a mixture of the two issues, a non native speaker of the language, and her head injury garbling it further. Where was she? Trapped in her own mind trying to keep her Fea in line with her body. It was not so much an issue that her spirit was trying to leave her body, it was still well anchored but the strike to her head had her struggling to listen and even be aware of the physical world, something that was rare for an elf, for she could travel in sleepless dreams still aware of the outside world when she was with the elven host for now though she was catching but snippets of the outside world. Where was she physically? Where had she gotten herself to?

Westron, Rohirric those languages came through and she was certain now that she was in Gondor for the men of Rohan did not speak any elven tongue, in fact they often shied away from elves fearing their magic though she had never known them to harm an elf, distrust was more likely than anything else. Though clearly someone in the room was using Rohirric, perhaps a young Rohirrim come to learn healing arts? She could not tell she strained to listen for some further clue as to this second person. They were not speaking as much as the woman near her though. Her body was safe and would be well tended and though her eyes remained open and fixed staring straight up, the lids of them drooped slightly and there seemed to be a relaxing of her body, settling in to the table she had been set upon.

Tension that had manifested itself from the extreme exertion of bringing her mind back into enough focus so that she could hear what was going on around her faded away slowly eased further by the calming voice of Nessa, though she assumed that was the healers name she was certain that was what she had heard as her mind worked to put more and more of what the healer had said to her together. She let out a soft sigh as the athelas filling the room filling her lungs with is soothing scent, it helped with the mental task she needed to deal with for the moment. The pounding sound inside her mind gave way slowly and she relaxed mentally without having the cacophony return rendering what little use she had of her external senses useless once more. In a way she had regained some level of consciousness though not yet enough to speak to the healer that was doing their best to tend her. She hoped that soon she'd be able to at least let the healers know exactly how badly things were hurting for she could certainly feel it now that she had relaxed because she was safe.

Fuin tried her best to make a mental note to make sure this healer was gifted some of the rarer elven herbs that were more plentiful in the gardens of Elrond than in Gondor, also she had a vague feeling she owned them a vase.

[Nessa Saelind]

Treatment room – Nessa and NPC Matilda treating Fuin’s injuries and chatting, as you do

Upon re-entering the treatment room, with a bowl of ice in one hand and a pale grey garment draped over the other hand, Matilda immediately noticed that the situation had changed. Looking around the room she saw that Nessa took out the flasks and jars with the necessary ingredients from the cabinet to prepare the anodyne, leaving them on the work desk next to the pestle and mortar. However, the healer was not at the works station preparing the anodyne, she was standing next to the treatment table where their patient lied and was speaking elvish.

Draping the garment over a chair next to the work station, she carefully approached the treatment table holding the bowl with ice in her hands. As she drew close she observed that the patient had started the slow, but steady process of regaining consciousness. To Matilda it looked like the elf-maid was coming round rather quickly, considering the head wound. Perhaps this was not so unusual in elves, she mused as she glanced at Nessa, noticing that the healer did not look overly concerned by this. She continued to speak in elvish and her voice was calm and soothing.

She waited until Nessa finished speaking before asking how she could be of assistance. The healer gave her instructions, hew switch from elvish to the Common Speech seamless if one disregarded the accent. To Matilda the speech and accent of the people from Pelargir, especially when they spoke in their dialect of Westron, sounded like running water. She moved about the room, picking up a clean basin, then heading to the fireplace where a cauldron with warm water was set. Using the ladle she filled the basin with warm water then moved it over to the work desk. Fetching the jar with athelas leaves, she took a few of them in her hand and crushed them over the vessel. Small pieces of the herb fell into the hot water and the sweet and clean smell started filling the room.

– Where did you learn to speak elvish? – Matilda asked the healer as she walked over to the shelves that contained neatly labelled phials, bottles, tins and jars filled with various tinctures, herbs and ointments.
– My mother taught me to speak Sindarin when I was a child. – Nessa replied observing how her patient’s reacted to the changes in the room; as the scent of athelas filled the room, the elleth relaxed.
– Is that an upper-class thing, or a seaport thing? – The nurse asked, her tone light and jocular, as she found what she was looking for on the shelves.
– A bit of both in my case, I think. – Nessa replied laughingly turning to see what the nurse was doing. – Although my husband speaks Sindarin and Quenya, and he’s not from an upper-class family… – She paused for a moment and turned to observe her patient. She took a few ice chips from the bowl and placed it on the clean washcloth and wrapped it tightly. – I put some ice in a washcloth. – She spoke to the elf again in Sindarin. – I am going to gently place this on your face, over your eye area, to lower the swelling. After the swelling goes down we’ll see which ointment Matilda, your nurse, has picked for treating your bruises and apply that.
– Tell her it’s a combination of arnica and comfrey. – Matilda said as she walked over to them. Nessa smiled and carefully placed the cold compress over the elleth’s injured eye area. She observed her patient’s reactions and the elleth didn’t show any signs of discomfort.
– Where did you learn Sindarin? – She asked the nurse, her eyes on the patient.
– Here, in the Houses. – Matilda replied, making a cold compress herself. – I understand more than I can speak but don’t tell the other healers. Some of them might think that I have ideas above my station.

Nessa chose to refrain from commenting, simply rolling her eyes at such behaviour. Seeing as Matilda prepared a fresh cold compress she moved over to let the nurse take over. Her observation of the elleth’s reactions to the changes of environment and the treatments led her to conclude that she could be regaining consciousness soon. And when she did wake up she would be in pain, and an analgesic would need to be administered.

– I’ll start preparing the anodyne. – She told Matilda, who gave her a slight nod. – I’ll make two doses just in case, I don’t want to overdo it, especially with her head injury.
– Do you think she understands Common? – The nurse asked and Nessa frowned slightly. – You were speaking to her about what you were doing, I’d like to continue. However, it would be nice if she could understand me… – Matilda finished with an apologetic shrug.
– If she’s travelling around Middle-Earth it is safe to assume that she’s fluent in it. – Nessa replied, reaching out to the nurse and placed a hand on her shoulder encouraging her. – Otherwise communication with other people would be, ah, interestingly difficult... Go ahead, talk to her, even if she doesn’t understand everything she’ll hear a friendly voice and know that she’s somewhere safe and taken care of.

She saw the nurse nod at her words and as she walked over to the work desk where the necessary ingredients for the preparation of the anodyne waited for her she heard Matilda speaking to the elf-maid in her calm, but mirthful voice.

[Ercassie]

Addhor Raxëlilta
Treatment Room, with Pele and Naela - (all but done.)


If he had been seeing her hand for the first time, he might never have startled at it. But observation of the difference (he’d seen a rather altered hand on her before now) … made a difference. That sort of consequence, that difference, did not tend to come about without due issue, and the notion of Pele having undergone any circumstance which might have caused it, the man swallowed. If they had been alone he might have asked, but it would not do to raise the matter here and now. He certainly did not wish to embarrass her, though clearly had already embarrassed himself. Professional curiosity did not ring correct in his mind as he tried to comprehend the reaction. But maybe a mutual understanding made him notice what another would not have.

“I .. apologise. I winced some, the hurt. Surprised me ..” he hoped to explain away some of the discomfort he may have invoked. The girl Naela was clearly not afraid to act as was required, without ever requiring to be told. Addhor was very grateful that she had whisked away all evidence of his clumsiness and nodded gratefully in her direction. But as the Master Healer focused upon the man’s wound, he sensitively followed suit. As far as he might recover some small degree of decorum.

“Thank you,” he managed, sincerely as some mention was made of ointments to soothe his pain. The apothecary had been shut every time he sought such supplies from the market and his current state meant that a trek out into the forest to hunt down herbs himself was very ill-advised. Requests for anyone else to seek for his sake, would have meant admitting the malady. The Gondorian’s grateful smile flickered though as counsel turned inevitably toward the very good sense he’d been avoiding.

“How long would you estimate ?” he asked, instinctively, fingers now freed of the mug clutched at the edge of the cot as though the prescription as much as the injury pained him. Perhaps it would not be so bad. Maybe not too great an amount of time ? It was a struggle to recall how glad he ought be that things were not so bad as last time. At least if he did as he was told. Strangely for a man who’d spent much of his life on obeying orders, he did not relish any shape of surrender. “I shall have to break the sad news to my dance teacher,” he tacked on, owing Pele at least some feeble attempt at amusement rather than an awkward air languishing between them. “Perhaps we did attempt too much too soon.” He did not look too sad at the thought, for his mind was thick with other things by now he had not expected. It was hard to keep from frowning though, at her suggestion. “I have a crutch but, I didn’t bring it with me,” managed the admission. The matter of his work depended greatly upon quite how long he guessed he would need to rest up. “There are certain elements which I could keep up for work, for a time, if need be. For a time ..”

Narradir would be overly keen to pick up what slack he might, and Unalmis for certain would be idle and bored, just kicking around with more time on his hands to help out, since ever the Rangers had returned home from their recent mission. Assigning responsibilities to others was not one of Addhor's strengths, and especially not long term, but either his friend or his son would hopefully serve to convince Pele he could manage until the leg improved. He could let them take up what he might not manage. If it were for just a short time. If anything it would be a driving incentive to recover and never allow such a silly malady again in future .. “It will improve, if I rest ?” he did not mean to sound so concerned or disbelieving, but perhaps to try a last attempt to avoid becoming idle himself.

[Winddancer]

Naela with Pele and Addhor

Her brow knit slightly as she watched the interaction between the man and Pele. It seemed to her that they knew each other and had known each other for quite some time as there always seemed to be some unspoken words that hung in the air. Did it make the job harder to do when having to work on someone you knew? Was it harder to receive treatment from someone you knew? Naela guessed it depended on what the relationship was like to begin with. For a brief moment her thoughts went back to her grandmother once more, listening to her tell of how important it was that all receive a healer's help. No matter who or what they were. Naela was not completely sure she could uphold that if faced with having to help out someone who had hurt others and had said as much to her grandmother. The seemingly endless lecture she got from that statement was enough to lift her lips a little into a small smile, still surprised she left that conversation without a smacked backside.

But Grandmother had been adamant. If you could not extend your help to all, no matter who or what they were, then you should not be a healer. Period. Naela had taken a long time to come to terms with that, though all she could promise was that she would try as she had yet to be subjected to anyone who was remotely evil. Well she had met Ms. Irma, but that was about as close to evil as she had gotten here in the safety of the city after the war.

Clearing her throat softly, she blinked away the thoughts and returned her attention to what was going on in the room, catching the advice of having to stay off his amputated leg until it healed. Again she was left non-plussed as she would never even consider going against a healers advice, but then she had also not had to still keep a family fed and whatever else compelled this man to keep walking on it must be important enough for him for him to keep doing it, even at the risk of losing more of the leg. However to her it seemed he had been lucky if all it took to fix this was rest and an ointment, but again, what did she know.


***
Maenion with Tarawen

He managed a smile that lit his feverish eyes, his hand reaching out for her as Tarawen rose to get him some water. Unable to quickly respond, every word needing to be forced out with the little breath he had, he let his sister speak and help him drink some water. The cool liquid felt wonderful in his parched and raw throat, though he tried not to drink too quickly so that he caused another coughing fit.

"I say that sounds wonderful.." he whispered out hoarsely at her question, his fragile hand gripping at hers as if he was afraid that she would disappear. "I hope this is not another fevered dream.." he mumbled, his eyes roaming eagerly over her in an attempt to take her appearance in. She had grown older, had become a beautiful woman and though she too looked tired, she looked healthy which was a great relief to him.

"Oh Tara.. I am so happy you are finally here.." As if suddenly remembering something, he looked around the room. "My wife?" He tried to raise himself a little to look around the room, but it only set off another horrible coughing fit that left him drained as he slumped back against the pillows, his face even more pale than before. While his eyes still shone with the fever, they were still filled with joy as he kept his gaze on his sister. "She must be getting food for the children.." Giving Tarawen's hand a squeeze he managed a small smile. "I married.. five years ago. I wish you could have been there, it was a lovely ceremony. We got married out in the garden.. all the flowers were blooming. It was so beautiful.. you would have loved it.." He murmured, his eyes drooping as he reminisced.

[Winddancer]

The front door to the House of Healing burst open with a resounding crash, followed by an almost inhuman howl that could have woken the dead. A huge belly was the first to pass over the threshold, followed by a panting woman clasping desperately on to a young boy around the age of thirteen. "AhaaahhAHHHHH!!!" Another scream announced their entrance as they made it slowly down the corridor, often pausing as another contraction ripped through her body. "They are coming quicker!! Gellir! Get the midwife! Or healer! Or someone!! It's coming, I can feel it!"

Gellir, at the tender age of thirteen had already escorted his mother to the House of Healing more times than he cared to count, though had of course the accurate answer should anyone ask that of him. He had been the one to bring his mother here on the last three occations, though in all he had four brothers. Though this time it just seemed wrong. His mother's belly had grown bigger than before, yet if he had calculated it correctly, and he had, she was going into labour two weeks too early. The concern and the stress of witnessing his mother in so much pain was enough to fuel his determination as he left his mother clutching a chair in the reception while he ran towards the first door he could see and knocked on it loudly.

"Help! Please, help! My mother is having her baby!! Help!" Another flurry of knocks followed before he ran to the next one and began pounding on that. He was too well brought up to actually burst into any of the rooms, though despite his shy demeanour he was apparently more than capable of making enough ruckus to stir the dead on his own as well.

"AaaaaaAAHHH! Gellir!!"