Morana Senensis
Pelargir – a few weeks ago
Morana woke up in the hour before dawn and rose from the bed she shared with her younger sisters. She moved quietly around the room, her movements honed by years of practice, washing her face in the basin, changing from her nightclothes to the charcoal grey nurse uniform, combing her long, thick auburn hair and fixing it into a side braid. When she finished dressing she picked up her satchel that contained the roll with medical instruments, writing materials and a leather journal in which she copied information from various medical books and scrolls she could find in the library of Pelargir's Houses of Healing. Walking out of the room she closed the door with care so she did not disturb her sisters.
Entering the kitchen she was not surprised to find her mother there, already dressed and ready for the day ahead of her. Two bowls filled with porridge along with mugs of mint tea were placed on the table. Placing her satchel on the bench she sat down to break her fast and enjoy a rare moment of peace in the household.
“Are you in that much of a hurry to get to the Houses of Healing?”
Nârin asked teasingly noticing that her daughter was eating faster than usual. Morana's cheeks flushed with colour, but her teal eyes shone with excitement.
“I'm sorry. It's just that…” Morana started, then paused for a moment, searching for the words that would help her mother understand her excitement. “The library and the study are empty in the early morning hours… And Abulcasis'
Method of Medicine along with al-Nafis'
Reference Book for Physicians is finally available.”
Nârin smiled seeing her daughter's excitement and nodded her head in understanding. She reached out and took her daughter's hand. Out of all her children, Morana was the one who inherited her looks, along with the talent for the healing arts. Her daughter watched and learned the craft from Nârin, just as she had watched and learned from her mother, Danica. However, she knew that Morana yearned for more, dreamed of more than being a local healer and midwife. She wanted to go to Minas Tirith's famous Houses of Healing to study and train to become a Master Healer.
When her daughter turned fourteen she decided to take the first step in achieving her dream. With the help of her friend Roderic de Argosy she managed to reach the Warden of Pelargir’s Houses of Healing and the two of them managed to cajole the old man to allow her to work there as a nurse. Neither Roderic nor Morana ever told their parents how they managed to do this, nor what exactly happened in the Warden’s office. Perhaps, the old man was impressed by the daring of the two teens, their resolve and the strength of their friendship. The Warden had certainly noted Morana’s knowledge of the healing arts, along with her ardent desire to be formally trained in the Houses of Healing. The quiet determination of Baran de Argosy’s son and heir and the willingness to go above and beyond for his friend had also made an impression.
Whatever tipped the scale in Morana’s favour was left unsaid. From that point on the
uskok’s daughter was a nurse in the Houses of Healing, her smile when she walked out of the Warden’s office as bright as the sun in splendour. However, what was not said, and would never be said, and would be vehemently denied if anyone would be so rude to ask such a question, that Morana would never be allowed to start her healer’s apprenticeship in Pelargir. It was not because she was a woman, there were certainly many female healers in Gondor, nor was her social status an issue, talented people from lower classes and various backgrounds did manage to become great healers, especially if they were lucky enough to get a stipend, or if a member of the nobility sponsored them. It was simply the unlucky combination of her sex, her social status and perhaps, most importantly of all, her family background that prevented her from gaining a healer's apprenticeship.
Morana knew all of this, she also knew that her best friend was aware of all of this. The knowledge and the unfairness of it all hurt her more than she cared to admit to anyone, even Roderic. She didn’t need to, he knew and still helped, for the love of his friend. Neither of them could change the way things were, although one day they would. With great difficulty, Morana managed to make her peace with it and worked with what she had. At least she got a foot through the door, and there were other ways of learning besides having a Master Healer as your teacher. In the 6 years, she had worked at the Houses of Healing as a nurse, she tried to learn as much as she could by a combination of observing senior healers at work and reading medical texts.
Whenever possible, usually in the early morning hours when no one was there, she'd go to the library to read. At first, she struggled with the language, terminology and unfamiliar concepts, feeling frustrated and angry with herself because she couldn’t break through that wall. It took a long time, far longer than she’s liked, to admit to herself that she was not alone. That she could and should ask for help with this, so she reached out to Roderic, and with time and effort, she improved. She practised the surgical techniques she learned on fruit, oranges and grapes mostly (when she could find them), after her shift or during her lunch break. It was hard work, but she enjoyed it and was proud of the progress she managed to make.
“Then eat, and I mean eat, not inhale your porridge,” Nârin said with a smile and a shake of her head. “Then run to your physicians. And please, try not to come home late this time eh?”
Morana laughed softly at her mother's words and finished her breakfast. She got up, placed her satchel on her shoulder, kissed her mother's cheek and went off to work.
~*~
At the end of her shift, she relayed the necessary information to the other nurses, packed her things and went out of the Houses of Healing feeling happy with how the day went. It was one of the better days in the Houses, she reflected as she navigated the busy afternoon streets of Pelargir. She had managed to get to the Houses of Healing early enough to spend two whole hours undisturbed in the study reading, making notes, copying sections and drawings from
The Method of Medicine in her journal. Most of the patients she took care of were on the mend, and the mood inside the ward was one of hope and good cheer. By the time she reached her house she was humming a sea shanty she overheard on the streets; a silly song about a drunken sailor that got stuck in her head.
She entered the house, took her boots off and left them by the door, walking barefoot to the delightfully warm kitchen. As she entered she saw her youngest sister, Dora, peeling potatoes while her mother prepared the dough for
börek on the kitchen table. Her other sister, Lada, sat on the bench next to her sister-in-law, Zora. They were mending some clothes and watching over Zora's son who was asleep in the cot. She greeted them and as she went to wash her hands she noticed that her mother was looking at her with concern.
“What's wrong?” She asked turning to look at her mother as she dried her hands on a kitchen towel.
“One of Valcollo's men was here earlier,” her mother said and then seeing Morana's concerned look she rushed to reassure her that her brother was unharmed. “He had a letter for you, I left it on the bedside table.”
She arched her eyebrow in surprise at her mother's words. Messages from Valcollo via one of his men were not unusual in the Senensis household, but letters… That was new.
“When does he expect an answer?” she asked musing about this new development in their communication.
“Tomorrow,” her mother replied and Morana nodded, walking out of the kitchen without noticing the concerned looks the other women exchanged between them.
The letter was exactly where her mother said it would be. She took it from the table and went over to the window so she could read without lighting a candle. She felt the smoothness of the cream coloured paper and noticed its quality. Her name was elegantly written, the letters strong and precise. Turning the letter around she hoped to glean something from the signet, but unfortunately, the red wax was blank. However, she did notice that the paper was not scented. It didn't have to mean anything, but the thought amused her. Seeing as she could learn nothing more from the envelope itself she broke the seal and opened the letter. The same elegantly precise penmanship on high-quality paper greeted her when she pulled out the sheet of paper from the envelope.
“Somebody made an effort…” she said quietly to the empty room unsure if she should be impressed by this or not. Wishing she could show this to Roderic and ask for his opinion, but he and her younger brother Ognjen were at sea.
She started reading the letter, once again noting the skill of the writer, not only in the penmanship but in the tone of the letter and the way sentences were structured… Exact, to the point, but filled with passion… She wondered what kind of man Valcollo's half-brother Taylus was; she wasn't even aware that Valcollo had a sibling, let alone a sibling who was reaching out to her with a job offer? Opportunity? He was asking her to join the crew of the Sulamárëa as the ship's doctor. Still holding the letter in her hand she went to sit on the bed.
Everyone from Anfalas to Unbar heard the tale or a version of the tale of
Suleramar and her crew. How they searched for some fabled treasure, the details of said treasure varied from story to story and grew in the telling, and in their treasure hunt they classed with the Gondorian navy and (by the looks of it) things did not end well for the ship's captain and his first mate. And now Taylus Mouguar wanted her help. But why her of all people?
She let out a very undignified snort as the answer to her question became obvious. She was the daughter of the late Ivo Senensis, an
uskok and a smuggler who occasionally worked with Valcollo. More importantly, she was trained in the arts of healing, had no issues with treating brigands, bandits and buccaneers it would seem… And she knew how to remove an arrow from a man's body without disfiguring him; a useful skill she demonstrated when one of her father's men was wounded. Word of that spread and it was surely the reason why her name was passed along to Taylus.
She sighed leaving the letter on the bed as she got up and started pacing around the room. Taylus was careful to make no promises in his letter, but she couldn't help but be stirred by his words. She saw a window of opportunity opening up and felt a small ember of hope catching fire within her. This was her chance to test her skills, to test herself. If she played her cards right, if fate was kind to her (small chance of that, but one could hope, and hope was a dangerous thing), Taylus' job offer could lead her to earn enough so she could go live in the White City and study at the Houses of Healing… She bit her lower lip hard and clenched her hands into fists, her fingernails breaking the skin. “
This is dangerous and foolish,” she closed her eyes as she chided herself, the voice in her mind sounding like Roderic’s. If she was here now he would certainly call her a fool, she most likely was one.
A knock on the door jolted her from her reverie and she opened her eyes and turned to see her mother entering the room. Nârin looked at her with concern and Morana felt guilty for making her mother worry. She unclenched her fists and walked over to the bed to pick up the letter and passed it to her mother who read it in silence with a heavy heart. When she finished she looked up at her daughter with tears in her eyes.
“Am I a terrible daughter for wanting to accept his offer?”, she somehow managed to force the words out, as guilt and sadness tightened her throat. “Especially now, with papa gone, Iliya out on a raid and Ognjen at sea...
“No,” her mother replies after a long silence and the answer somewhat surprises Morana. “I knew in my heart it would eventually come to this, you leaving to stretch your wings… Mind you, I always thought you would go to sea with Roderic and not join the buccaneers...”
“Ah,” her daughter says with a slight flush of her cheeks. “It’s not like that with us,” she finds herself trying to explain the complex relationship between herself and Roderic. “You know this,” she stresses again and moves on. “Besides, how can I say no to someone who has obviously tried very hard to impress me?” Morana asked jokingly and her mother finally laughs at her daughter’s antics. “Just look at that penmanship, and the quality of the paper, the dramatic way it was delivered…” both women laughed, and for a moment they felt light-hearted.
“It's alright,” Nârin said after a while. “We will be alright.”
“Is it really?” her daughter asked and she could only shrug. It was and it wasn't; it would be, eventually.
“We'll have to alter some of your brothers' or your father's clothes,” her mother said after a moment of silence, choosing to focus on the practical matters. “Whichever would fit you better. After all, I don't suppose we have much time.”
“No, it doesn't look like it,” Morana replied with a slight smile. “And I'd better ask Zora to cut my hair to a manageable length too.”
“Yes, you should,” her mother answered and stood up. “But that can wait. Come, let's eat.”
Dol Amroth – The Selkie
The journey from Pelargir to Dol Amroth was uneventful, a thing for which Morana was simultaneously grateful and tormented. She needed the quiet time to come to terms with everything, how the choices she made would affect the people she loved. Her family, her friends. She hoped the letters she wrote to them would help them understand her decisions, that they would not harm them. She hoped and prayed they were safe and that she would not come to regret her choices. She sighed again and turned her thoughts from those she left behind to more practical matters. She needed to prepare for what was to come. As much as she could prepare with the information she had.
That included getting used to her new look; shorter hair (shoulder length, instead of waist long) and wearing her father's altered clothes. Some of it didn't fit her as well as she would wish, but it would do. She just needed to get used to this new her, and she would with time. She still felt unlike herself as she walked into
The Selkie, the meeting place Taylus (
Aiano Marviltë she reminded herself to call him by the alias he chose) chose for this meeting. A Hobbit named Matt greeted her and Scurvy Jones, the ship's cook, and ushered them into a private room.
Two men were seated round a
lebethron table, on which finished and half-finished glasses of spirits were scattered. She felt her muscles tense, her pulse quickening, hyper-aware that she was the only woman in a room full of men, and some of them had consumed a fair share of liquor. “
Breathe,” Morana reminds herself. “
Be a mirror when you meet a knife; be a mirror when you meet a stone,” Roderic’s words echo in her mind as she makes herself relax, controlling her breathing as the wiry blond man, his beard the same colour as his hair, got up and introduced himself by the alias he chose and then turned to introduce Kfir Gameela.
Taylus Mouguar wasn't quite like she imagined he would look, although to be fair she didn't have the basis to imagine what he would look like from his letter. As he shook her hand and welcomed her, Morana realised he talked exactly like she imagined he would. His comment about their need for a good doctor because of the demise of her predecessor was something she expected he would say to her, although not here and now, but she refrained from commenting and simply nodded her head.
As she took her seat at the table she was painfully aware of Kfir's gaze. She did not like the way he was looking at her; the Umbaran was too observant, she was certain he had noticed her discomfort when she walked into the room. She looked him in the eyes and wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he merely see a tall, slender young woman wearing man's clothes; clothes that didn't quite fit her right? A girl with a fair complexion, with freckles scattered like constellations over her cheeks and nose, thick shoulder-length auburn hair, teal eyes, way out of her depth? If this was all he saw and knew about her, and as long as her family name and the connections that went along with it were not mentioned in front of this man, or any other Umbaran, she would be safe. Or as safe as she could be considering where she was and what she was doing.
She returned her attention to Taylus as he spoke her name and started explaining why they had gathered here. Her eyebrows rose when the scholar mentioned that he first intended to besiege Lord Imrahil's castle with the Umbaran's help to save the captain and the first mate… For such a smart man, he could be incredibly unintelligent… That plan had changed, and they were to rescue Eliad and Mylien from the gallows tomorrow morning; which sounded manageable compared to storming a castle. “
At least he isn't a complete fool,” she thought to herself as she watched the faces of the men in the room and waited for the other shoe to drop. There was always a cost to be borne, and she wondered what it was and who would be the one to pay for it. She did not have to wait long to find out what it was – Kfir wanted Admiral Vacyrn's ship Valaturo.
She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as Matt expressed his surprise. “
Oh, you foolish, foolishly desperate man!” She thought as she opened her eyes and looked at Taylus. “
You're going to get us killed, for you might not have what it takes to pay…”
Dol Amroth – Outside the Prince's castle
Despite the fact she carried her backpack over a cloak and had a hidden cutlass under, it was surprisingly easy to blend into the crowd in the square where the execution was about to take place. The guards didn't pay any special attention to her, nor did they ask questions about her attire which was simultaneously a source of worry and relief. Perhaps because, compared to Pelargir, Dol Amroth was a peaceful place, or maybe the guards were so confident in their abilities, or they just thought that nobody would be so preposterous to try to free the two condemned prisoners.
“
Clearly they haven't met Taylus” she mused as she moved around trying to find a spot from where she could easily see the scholar's signal and keep an eye on everything. Moving around allowed her to discretely observe the crowd and judge the mood. It was an odd mixture of common citizens of Dol Amroth, Swan Knights, Kfir’s men who were strategically posted around the square and, from what she could gather, almost all of the pardoned crew Sulamárëa. She mused about the crowd’s quaint mood as she found her desired spot. They did not look excited to see the hanging of two leading buccaneers, but they were not opposed to the spectacle either. She wondered which way the crowd would swing (an unfortunate choice of words even in the confines of her mind) when they finally made their move to free captain Eliad and Mylien.
Morana was anxious about that part, worried about her role in it. She wasn’t a combatant, all she knew about wielding a sword could be summed up that you used the pointy end to stab someone. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true, she knew more than that. She knew the theory of sword fighting, she recognised wounds made by a sword and she certainly knew how to treat them. However, her theoretical knowledge was not easily translated into practical knowledge, and she wasn’t sure if Taylus had that in mind when he assigned her a role in his wild scheme. Morana didn’t know the scholar well enough to claim she knew what was going on in his heart and mind, but if she were of a gambling sort she’d wager that the Taylus made his peace and was prepared to die today so he could save the people he cared about.
Morana was not. Oh, she admired the scholar's resolve to do everything he could, no matter how impossible it seemed, to save his friends. The drive was achingly familiar to her, and she respected him for that. However, Nârin Senensis raised no fool and Morana had no intention of dying in Dol Amroth, today or anytime soon. She felt, rather than heard the mood of the crowd shifting and she looked up to see the guards marching the Captain and the First Mate to the wooden platform where two nooses were waiting for them. She took a deep breath to focus and prepare, keeping an eye out for Taylus’ signal. As the nooses were placed around Eliad’s and Mylien’s necks, the trumpets sounded and she and the others saw the signal light and the square exploded in movement.
The Umbarans and members of the crew drew their swords and attacked the surprised Swan Knights and guards who nonetheless, thanks to their training responded quickly. People screamed and tried to get away to safety. It was absolute chaos to Morana, but she didn’t have time to think about any of it, she moved towards the wooden platform where Eliad and Mylien were. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Scurvy was following her, using his cutlass to defend both of them. They reached the platform in time to help Eliad and Mylien deal with the guards. She swiped the keys from one of them and started unlocking Mylien’s shackles.
“Taylus sends his regards ma’am,” she told the First Mate somewhat breathless. “We’re to head to the docks once you’re free.”
As the woman rubbed her wrists Morana reached under her cloak for the cutlass she managed to hide and extended it to the First Mate who was looking at her like she was an escaped lunatic from the asylum. She understood the sentiment; she did look somewhat psychotic.
“Oh! Sorry!” she exclaimed realising that she didn’t even introduce herself. “I’m Morana, the ship’s healer,” she said as she moved over to Eliad so she could unlock his shackles.