Houses of Healing II

Seven Stars and Seven Stones and One White Tree.
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Falaneth
At reception with Malanor and (unfortunately..) Ms Irma


Falaneth’s brisk pace through the streets worked against her. The astonishingly vociferous screams being emitted for all to hear grew louder and louder as they caught up to Ms Irma and her unfortunate helpers. Honestly, did the woman ever stop to breathe? She must have lungs of steel to be able to carry on like that. The question of whether this loud-mouthed old woman could press charges or complain about her weighed on her mind the whole walk to the Houses of Healing. She almost stopped to ask Malanor at least twice and thought better of it, letting her thoughts continue to spiral around.

Falaneth watched the harried looking baker and apprentice with a twinge of envy as they quickly made themselves scarce. She wished she could vacate this scene, go home and never come out again, but her wrist throbbed in protest. The pain was getting worse. If she didn’t get it tended, she wouldn’t be of use at work, unable to write or shelve books, and then what would she do?

Malanor surprised her yet again with his comforting words. He seemed genuine and she suddenly wondered where the guards like him had been when her life had turned upside down. “I’m not so sure about that…” She fumbled with the handle of her bag. Standing outside the door he held open, she tentatively peeked into the reception area and finally asked him the burning question in a low whisper. “Can she really make a formal complaint against me?” She winced as Ms Irma screamed again.

Falaneth crept inside as quietly as she could and shrank into a corner with her back against a wall. Clutching her bag of groceries to her chest like a shield, she hoped to blend in. It felt like the safest place she could find among the chaos until a healer was free to see her. The wall gave her strength and with any luck, maybe Ms Irma would not notice the root cause of her current pain.

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Ann Kalagon with Pele Alarion
Healer quarters: storage


“Well, Pele,” she replied, “I know what you mean, yet note that we are unpacking them in the order of their gathering—so these bundles are the older of the lot.” Ann smeared honey on the buttered bread roll she held, and set to again with the hot tea as well.

As Pele exclaimed over the herbal treasure, Ann said, “All the places have been on a path across the Northern lands, up until my travel back here from Bree. But everywhere you might travel, there are herbs to harvest if you have time to look, with the exceptions of lands near the Morannon.” She then fell quiet for the length of time it took to finish the hot bread.

“And, these are all Dwarvish roots!” she said, with a satisfied look on her face and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “So I do not know if these have names in Gondor, or maybe in Numenorean lore, other than the names the Dale men use.

“From what the herbalists told us in Dale, Dwarvish medicine with roots is focused on restoring balance in the Dwarf’s system. You would have to spend some time there I think, with them, and in observance of practice, to get all the nuances? But in general, start with a smaller dosage, judging on the patient and how they present to you, and observe over a few days.”

As she spoke, she opened the lid of the large leather box, which looked to be dyed a dark blue in this light—this box had taken up well over half the space of the saddle bag, though the bag itself was not yet empty. Packed within the box was a store of dried roots in varying sizes and of three colors. Each color type made a section—three stripes in appearance—a thick reddish-brown sort, a yellowish-brown root with eager budding root branches, and a bluish, almost purple type.

“They gather the roots and hang them in an airway just long enough to dry,” Ann said. “And then they keep well for months if stored in a cool dry place with some air. This lot is ready for better storage!

“These reddish roots, their effect is kind of like the Hurin’s wort, but for Dwarves. It is called Bloodroot, and it is very good for balance of the emotions. This could be any emotional upset, stress, anxiety, grief, what have you. The suffering Dwarf should have one of these cooked slowly over three or four hours into their meat broth each day.” Ann handed one to Pele to inspect, and lifted out the yellow brown type with branching rootlets.

“They call this one Mountain’s root; this is used for all sorts of digestive imbalances. Apparently, Dwarves may sometimes suffer various blockage or ulcers or other issues of the tracts. As before, a matter of balance must be healed; the Dwarf’s daily meat broth should have a Mountain’s root cooked in, treatment over the course of five days.” She handed this root to Pele.

“These deep blue ones are called Wizard’s root. These are good for a number of issues; almost anything involving energy or vigor. Wizard’s root is indicated for a patient recovering from illness or injury. And it is sovereign for cleansing, for any detoxification—sometimes Dwarves come into contact while mining with toxic dust or rocks; you may never have such a patient, but others may need their system cleansed and balanced,” Ann sniffed at the bluish root, and her eyes narrowed in reaction. She handed this one to Pele then, indicating she might want to smell it for recognition.

“This Wizard’s root now, you may prepare in advance. Bring some to a boil, just by itself, simmer very low for two hours. When cool, put it up in glass bottles and away from the light. Leave it like that at least six months—the longer, the better. Dosage would be a dropper in a mug of hot tea, three times a day for ten days.”

Ann set the Dwarvish medicinal roots back in the blue leather box after Pele had finished inspection, wrapped it round again with the twine and pushed it along the table. She next retrieved a blue silk bundle from the saddlebag bound tightly with red string, which when unrolled revealed a good bundle of athelas. “This is Dale athelas! It was freshly sundried then wrapped when we were there!”

“Oh!” she said, retrieving a small bundle from the bag. "This was under the box. I almost forgot; we have one more batch of roots." And she unwrapped some winds of a fibrous plant to reveal small brown roots sort of resembling little people. “The herbalist that used these roots called them Dain's Friend and emphasized their efficacy as a general tonic for Dwarves. Its preparation is another type to cook slowly into meat broth as the others. Now this wrapping is of a fibrous plant used for bandages. And here is a packet of a chalky powder that staunches bleeding in minor abrasions.”

Her tea was empty. “Might we get another pot of tea, Pele? I have more honey,” she said with a smile. “For after visiting Dale with my Beorning cousins on my Mom’s side, we traveled back west together through the forest to my village, and then on again to their home. Guess what I have from there?”
fka Ann Kalagon, Hyandaner

Mae Govannen, my friends!

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Nurse Maeth Dringolben
Reception
It had been more than a long day; it had been a long week, month, year.. decade, even. Only her work in the Houses of Healing helped to take Maeth's mind off of her own sorrows, the grief that filled her heart every night when she went home, when all her patients were tended and she had nothing left to do but go home to the empty house which used to be so full. Even Cali was gone now, though at least it was a gone as in living in another city, and not gone like all of the men of the family.

Maeth was just helping one of her sick patients to take his medicine when she heard a sound that foretold an even longer day ahead of her. Someone had dared to start yelling. Here, in the Houses of Healing! The woman was stunned at first, turning toward the door of the patient's room in both bewilderment as well as shock. Surely, everyone knew this was a place to be quiet, for the sick and wounded were here, trying to rest so that they may recover. She turned back to her patient, who looked a little alarmed, and put on a smile as she gently assured him that the yelling would stop soon, just lie back and rest, then the nurse excused herself to go and see what all the fuss was about.

By the time she arrived at the reception, Nurse Maeth was not in the best mood. She could understand a young child screaming its head off over whatever injury had come upon it. She could understand a pregnant lady in the midst of labor. But as she arrived in the reception, and saw the lady (Ms Irma) hollering and trying to attack those who had brought her here, with complaints about her ankle, the nurse found her fists planted on her hips, struggling not to glare.

Marching over to confront the troublesome patient, Maeth addressed the very loud woman using her sternest voice, something she'd had a great deal of practice with, having raised four, rather mischievous children. "Ma'am," She spoke sharply, while still keeping her voice at a hushed level, "you will kindly keep your voice down," She instructed, a rare spark of fire lighting flashing in her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, you are in the Houses of Healing, where people come to rest, and recover from wounds and sickness, and all this noise you're making is disturbing my patients and keeping them from the rest they need to get better."

In fact, it rather infuriated the nurse to think of how many patients were being deprived of much-needed rest, thanks to this woman. "Such behavior will NOT be tolerated here, so you will either keep very quiet until you leave here, or you may leave right this moment, without treatment. The choice is yours."

Having spoken her piece, using her best 'no-nonsense-mom voice, the nurse waited, hands on here hips, hoping the threat of not being treated would be enough to make the loud woman hush up and act civilized. Of course, a back part of her mind wondered if she ought not to have said such a thing, as it was really the healer's decision whether they would treat a patient (and of course they wouldn't turn someone down). But sometimes, people needed to be dealt with firmly and it was hard, at times, and she only hoped it would work in this situation.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Amethyst "Amy" Nerennia
November of 3018, T.A. Quintas de Scardena's office
@Nessa Saelind


Amy hesitated before entering the office. She didn't know quite how to begin, and as her mentor got up and guided her into a chair, she didn't resist. Though she hadn't come for tea and such, she found herself trying to remember when she last had a proper meal. "Thank you, I...that would be nice." She looked down at the papers she'd brought with her, feeling like an utter failure.

"Sir," She tried to begin, able to look up at him for the moment. He must be wondering why she had come, and she wanted to explain, but there was a lump rising up in her throat that made it difficult to talk past. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, letting it out shakily.

"I'm afraid I... I can't finish this assignment." After the words were out, she decided that didn't sound quite right. That made it sound like she was simply incapable of finishing it, when that wasn't really the case. "I..well, what I mean is," She stared down at the papers with blurry vision. "I can't finish it, because... I have to quit." The last bit came out in hardly more than a whisper. Another deep breath, another slow exhale. "I have to leave."

It was hard for her to do this. She wanted very much to finish her training and become a healer, not just an apprentice. But something else mattered far more to her, and she knew she couldn't do both. Slowly glancing up at him, she wondered if he would be upset, or disapproving, or merely disappointed. Perhaps all of the above. "I'm sorry," She added softly, unsure of anything else to say.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Unalmis Raxëlilta
At Reception with Matilda Hawthorn
@Nessa Saelind


The drowning of the table was not on equal measure with the drowning of Numenor, yet it incited an urgent response all the same. The young woman (Matilda) who all but flew out of some unseen haunt went straight about her business of tending to the fallen flowers. It occurred to Unalmis that she must be a healer, to showcase such an efficiency and speed in hopes of recovery. Her ‘patient’ restored all immediate threat, this heroine set about cleaning up the ‘crime scene’ and setting it back unto perfect order. All the while that it took the Ranger enough thought to stow his precious envelope into his pocket. That it might be safe there from a soaking, for it was so ‘important’ he had been instructed. And there it would likely remain, forgotten in it’s place of safety, for the remainder of his visit, if left to his devices.

He had expected a tirade or a telling off but never had he expected for his own name to fall from the woman’s lips before he ever offered it. Maybe she had known he was expected. He had been informed of course, that they were expecting him, but that could well have been a safeguard to ensure he attended. The young soldier had, after all, failed to show up for a check up after the most recent of missions, even though he had been directed to do so. It had felt rather redundant. He had managed only to shin his palms on that occasion and, yes, to get smacked in the face by a door which he had valiantly kicked open, a door which had generously rebounded. All the times that he had seen the likes of Beren Camlost valiantly kick in doors, that sort of rebound never seemed to happen to them ! Regardless he had not felt sufficiently hurt to require treatment.


The attendant progressed in her greeting though, demonstrating that she knew his lineage as well as his first name, which rendered him confused. He had certainly never met her before that he could now recall. Perhaps she had been witness to his last, rather wild, visit to the healing houses. Still she was saying about affections and smiling … in that way that girls do when they embark on their secret language which no-one with an ounce of sense can understand. Surely they must take girls quietly aside at school to teach such things, else he’d certainly been absent that day. Or truanting. Admittedly, he had probably been truanting.

Finally the young woman must have sensed his confusion and seen fit to translate. So Nal was relieved as she informed him as to jonquils. And then he was confused anew as she commenced her chatter about ‘Naela’. Whoever that was. This was beginning to feel like he was in the training grounds, getting swatted by unseen assaults from unexpected directions. A little derailed, the young Ranger could only hope he did not look so confused and dazed as he felt. Else he’d be admitted for some unexplained head injury !

You’re Naela ?” he braved a guess, already doubting as he observed the amusement that still lit her face. “No. So, can you tell me your name ?” he scratched the head he tilted slightly. “Or is this all a part of the training ? Some kind of test ?” Honestly of all the things he had not expected to know, or be prepared for, this scenario had never occurred to him.

At some point he would realise that he ought to apologise for the mess he had caused, but then there was already a lot taking up space in his head. It would need some time to work it’s way to the forefront. For now there was nothing he could do but hope this mysterious hostess might help him. And then hope he should be so courteous to thank her for doing so. Already there was so much to remember.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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Reception
Malanor and Ms. Irma


It was like watching a scene of an accident. There was no looking away even if he wanted to. Jaw dropping open, he watched with astonishment and growing fear as the healer (or nurse) berated Ms Irma. He even shot a look back towards Falaneth, his eyes more than betraying his bewilderment and sheer amusement as well as the growing terror. If anyone deserved a talking to it was definitely this woman. She was known throughout the Tower Guard and even used to break in new people as they were assigned to one of her ridiculous reports. But as much as she was a laughing stock amongst the guards, they all still held a healthy amount of fear of her and her inexhaustible outrage.

Too shocked by the events playing out, he did not answer Falaneth. Honestly partly because he did not want to scare the young woman even more as Ms Irma would most definitely be reporting her for this. Not that it would lead to anything apart from wasting everyone's time and upsetting the young woman even further, but a report was bound to be made. He would have to reassure her later, but he dared not speak now as he waited to see the "explosion" that was bound to come from Ms. Irma.

The air felt thicker somehow as an uncomfortable hush fell on the room once the nurse stopped speaking, hands on her hips. Already red in the face from having screamed at the men all the way here, her face went an unhealthy dark purple colour, her eyes all but bugging out of her pudgy pinched face.

"How. Very. Dare. You!" Ms Irma managed to force out the words without sputtering too much. "Gaurd! You are my witness that this woman is refusing me treatment!!" Her voice was nearing a shriek, though she was clearly trying to keep herself from outright screaming, again. "I demand to see your superior! I will have your job for this!" The last part she said with added venom as she stared the woman "down" from her seat on the chair. "Guard! Get me out of here! I will not stay where I am spoken to like this!"

Malanor cringed as Ms Irma snapped, his body curling in protectively like he was being physically smacked with every word. But even as uncomfortable as he felt and feeling the need to run, he still managed to step in front of Falaneth to hide her from Ms Irma's ire.

"Uh.. Ms.. you really need to have your ankle seen to.." he tried, cringing even more as she sent a red hot glare his way.

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Nurse Maeth Dringolben
Reception with Ms Irma, Falaneth, and Malanor


Maeth had lost her patience the moment she heard Ms Irma from the other room. Perhaps she should have clung to it a little harder. Perhaps she should have been sweeter, gentler, kinder... but that was far from how she felt right now. The thought of this woman screeching and making such a fuss about a painful ankle, when there were sick and wounded people trying to rest... thinking of how her boy might have spent his last hours hearing this nonsensical commotion -had this occurred when he were here dying- that thought brought out the worst in the widow woman, unfortunately. Still, she struggled not to be as rude back to the woman as she deserved.

The nurse clenched her jaws, carefully counting to ten in her head as the woman ranted on and claimed she'd get Maeth fired. Perhaps she would, but Maeth intended to be sure that this woman would not disturb any other patients, if she could help it, as long as she still worked here. It was a real struggle to keep her voice calm and even, when she really wanted to scream right back at her. Of course, that would defeat the purpose of this entire conversation, though, so she was careful to maintain her own volume and tone as she replied back to the troublesome woman.

"I suppose, in addition to needing your ankle looked at, you are also in desperate need of having your ears cleaned, ma'am." She responded in a forced-calm tone, frowning, but using a tone as if speaking to an unruly child with whom she was disappointed. "Since you did not hear me clearly enough the first time, I shall repeat myself; If you cannot keep your voice down while you are here, then you may leave, untreated, or..there is another option I failed to mention before. We can always sedate you if we must, but we will NOT have any more raised voices, do you understand that, this time?"

She stared the woman down, unintimidated, and giving her a stern scowl. "Now again... what will you choose, ma'am? Shall I get a sedative, or are you going to keep your voice down? Or, if you don't like those options, then you may always take your leave, as I said before. But I most certainly did not refuse you treatment. If you choose that option, it is your own choice." She spoke in her sternest 'mother' tone, and hoped that this ordeal would be over soon. The sooner this woman was gone from here, the happier everyone would be, and Maeth, personally, was rather in favor of the sedative option.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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With Quintus de Scardena @Nessa Saelind
Study


The biscuit seemed to melt in her mouth, and Pele savoured the slightly tangy taste, not minding the quiet moment while they both sipped the tea. She was sure that the man would speak when his mind in due time; there was no need to stress about it. Especially when there was tea and treats at hand.
When Quintus seemed to take kindly to the idea of dancing she had mentioned, Pele tilted her head slightly, a small grin on her lips. She was not a bad dancer, yet that was usually something reserved for official balls and such, not for public entertainment, though she could see that it would attract a fair amount of attention and money. Yet, she was not sure she would ever agree to do anything like that.

“Well, it is good that there is no immediate need to rush out and dance all the way to the first circle and back again,” she commented, sipping the tea. “Though if that was a case, I would demand half of the income in payment for the effort.” Her words held a serious note, though her eyes spoke a different story, and a mischievous glint could be seen there.
She tried to follow the man’s poetic musings but found that she could not quite keep up. “Ah, I am quite sure your wife is very right on this,” she concluded in confirmation of his words. “I am too much hands-on to understand philosophical things very well, though trying…”

While she pondered his question about Naela, Pele took another biscuit, dipped it into the tea and then popped it into her mouth. “Mmmm…” she expressed her appreciation of the sweet food item before getting back to more serious matters. “Yes, she is Shaela’s granddaughter, Naela. I think of her as of a very prospective healer; she is very inquisitive, not afraid to ask questions, eager to look into books. And then there are basics her grandmother has already taught her,” Pele expressed her evaluation. “I think we will not be left without wanting for new healers.”


~~~~~
With Ann @Ankala Teaweed
Storage


“Yes, herbs can be found anywhere,” she agreed, while making yet another honey-bread for herself. “And a good thing to collect, when not thinking of mere survival. Else I would have brought some interesting things too.”

Having eaten half of the bread roll, she set the rest aside and turned her attention back to the treasures Ann had brought. Meticulously she inspected each root, running her fingers along it to feel the texture, and then bringing each to her nose to smell.

Soon the notes contained a detailed description of each root and herb, the properties and the application, and she even made crude drawings of each, though she did not have any great artist abilities. Perhaps she’d ask someone to redo these for her at some point.

Pele emptied her own cup of tea, and then stood, taking the teapot with her. “There’s always more tea, Ann,” she said and moved into the study to where she knew some water was still on the hearth. It did not take her long to return again with the promised tea and refilled the mugs.

“Wait, it is not fair to make me guess so!” Pele laughed, setting aside the writing again to finish bread. “Is it a special type of honey?”


~~~~~
Pele, coming upon Unalmis @Ercassie and Matilda @Nessa Saelind
Reception


The work definitely seemed to pile up, what with all the various things that had to be accomplished, all in one day. Currently Pele did not even have the time to sit down and eat properly, so after spending the early hours to deal with administrative stuff at the Headquarters, she had dropped by the mess hall to grab a sandwich, which she was currently munching on as she made the way to the Houses of Healing to attend to other duties. Thoughts already busy with how she'd have to exchange the Ranger uniform for a healer's outfit and what patients she might have to check on and such, she hurried into the reception, stuffing the remaining part of the sandwich into her mouth as she pushed open the door with her shoulder.

Pele did not quite expect to see the reception inhabited, apart from a receptionist, so she paused as soon as she stepped inside and for a while observed Unalmis and Matilda curiously trying to guess what the conversation was about. The few steps that took her alongside the two young people allowed her enough time to finish the food, before she spoke.

"So, what's going on here?" she eventually asked. "Any of you requiring a healing touch?" Laughter danced in her blue eyes, as she looked from one inhabitant of reception to the other and awaited a sort of report on whether she was needed here, or perhaps elsewhere.
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Unalmis Raxëlilta – reporting for Training
At Reception with Matilda Hawthorn and Pele Alarion
@Nessa Saelind @Pele Alarion


Pele was not the only one trying to work out what Unalmis and Matilda were talking about, as the young Ranger was not entirely sure himself.

I think I’m getting a headache,” he mumbled, confused, as the Master Healer asked whether either one of them was hurt. “Or causing one ? I don’t know. I’m supposed to come here and seek out training in case of accidents or injury on duty. Something like that ?” It had reached the point where he was no longer sure of that either, or in fact if he had chanced to close his eyes too long while sitting on the grass outside, and fallen asleep out there. It would not be the first time.

Oh ! Naela ! Of course !” he was stung by the sudden prompt of seeing Pele again. The last time, here, he had met the Officer's young assistant, and then his father had said “Good luck Naela,” as they’d left.

This isn’t Naela” he informed Pele, now both assuredly and rather randomly. “And you’re not.” But since he was already recounting the last time he was here, Nal dropped a hand to his pocket, before he forgot, and retrieved a slightly damp but not too damaged envelope, which he extended in offer towards Pele.


This is for you, Pele sir, ma'am,” he explained. “From my .. from last time.” The contents she should find within were both a solid payment for the recent check-up and also a small paper pamphlet of certain illustrated works the carpenter had been exploring, on the Master Healer’s own advice. A small string left like a bookmark within the tiny catalogue made it easily fall open to a page which detailed the specifics of some handcarven hands and fingers. There was no explanation further than a small handwritten note. It read ‘if I can ever be of any assistance along these lines, please let me know. Utter discretion for any patient consulted with, guaranteed. Addhor’.

I am supposed to tell you that he’s doing much better now,Unalmis ambled, counting out on his fingers what he ought to conjure back to mind. “So much that he and an old Ranger buddy are riding out to Rohan at the end of the month. Wait, maybe that was the part he said I ought not to tell you ..

A genuine confusion conquered the young man’s face. “Sorry,” he shrugged. For possibly getting the message wrong, for the incident of running through rooms the last time looking for his father, for .. well, best be safe and put it out there now. Chances were he would manage to do something else that would require apologies this visit also. Oh, and of course the vase. “Sorry about the flowers” he gave up to Matilda. Though maybe she was implying the flowers were Naela's ? He didn't see the other girl around.

The Ranger yawned behind a belatedly raised hand. “Can we please start again ?
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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Recovery rooms – Nessa and Matilda with Fuin (@Revered Grandmother)


CW: PTSD, depression, oblique references to suicidal thoughts. In essence, this post deals with characters' past traumas and their reactions to them. There's also a bit of colourful language in the last part of the post. If you do not feel comfortable reading this post (at the moment) please feel free to skip it.



One for sorrow,
Two for mirth,
Three for a funeral
And four for birth.


Traditional children’s nursery rhyme about magpies


As Matilda unlinked her arm from hers to knock gently on the door of Fuin’s room Nessa runs her hands through her unbraided chocolate-coloured locks in an attempt to tame it. The brisk walk to the recovery rooms mussed her hair in addition to tinting her cheeks with a healthy rosy flush. She glances at Matilda, who was sensible enough to braid her golden hair in a loose plait, who was just as flushed as she, if not more because of the fairness of her complexion. Matilda’s laughter at the elleth’s invitation is infectious and Nessa joins her. They open the door and enter Fuin’s room looking more like a pair of blushing and giggling schoolgirls visiting a friend who is recovering from an illness than harbingers of strange tidings.

As she looked at Fuin, her not so model patient, she noted that the elleth looked better, certainly stronger and healthier than her first day in the Houses. The elven woman was still just as brash and impatient but had so far managed not to aggravate her condition. However, both the nurse and the young healer sensed a restlessness in the elleth, a desire for movement, for action. She shook her head slightly, her lips curling into a smile, as she witnessed the exchange of witty comments about Fred between the nurse and her patient. Nessa bit her lower lip, reluctant to interrupt their mirth. However, the content of the letter and the manner of its arrival to the Houses of Healing was troubling. Dark wings, dark words. The old saying echoes in her mind as she steels herself.

Nessa could not predict how the elleth would react to the news that her family was searching for her. If she even remembered them; for Fuin made no mention of any family while she recovered in the Houses of Healing. And as Matilda rightly pointed, the only reference to Afarfin, was the comment that his bones wouldn’t care how she looks. Melancholy wraps her fingers around the young healer’s heart as she wonders if Fuin even remembers that her Prince Charming is alive, or did the latest injury rob her of that precious knowledge and left her with perpetual sorrow?

A sharp pain makes her lower her gaze and she becomes aware that at some point she must have unconsciously clenched her hands into fists so hard that her fingernails bit into the skin. Instantly, she is reminded of the day she returned to Minas Tirith. Of the loose-fitted and revealing vermilion coloured dress she wore and how shocked she was when after three long years she finally saw Turin, her estranged husband. The tempest of emotions that raged and whirled within her fighting for dominance as she listened to her beloved recounting and explaining the events that led to their separation.

Nessa might not be able to predict the elleth’s reaction to the news the letter brought, however, she knows the ashen taste of grief, the heartaches and a drowsy numbness that pains the senses, as though she had drunk hemlock. The gently painful touch of sorrowsong, the intimacy of loss and guilt for drawing breath when they who you love do not. The anguish that follows and cries for easeful Death to take into the air your quiet breath…

The young healer senses the news she is about to share with her patient will shock her, especially if she has no memory of Afafrin’s rebirth, and that it might even worsen her condition. Still, she perseveres, for the news needs to be told. Fuin needs to know that she is not alone with her pain and sorrows, that the family she chose, that the family she forged from the debris of loss and pain is there for her. Will always be there for her. A safe haven whose beacon is a shining light in the darkness.

“Lady Fuin,” Nessa starts formally, her voice sounds strange to her ears. Low and uncertain, like she is a herald delivering grievous news to her lady. It feels strange to address the elven woman in front of her with such formality, but she is uncertain how else she should call her. To call her by her name, Fuin, would be assuming the intimacy of a long friendship they do not yet share, and to call her grandmother seems too frivolous for what she is about to say. “A letter from your family arrived at the Houses of Healing,” she continues speaking, ignoring the strangeness she feels. She carefully proceeds to tell Fuin how her family is searching for her, of Ruindil’s and Mylien’s worry because she did not return home at the appointed time. She omits the part about the anniversary of Afarfin’s death, but after a pause she mentions his name as well, stressing how they are all concerned for her.

As she talks she observes her patient, making note of her reactions. She is aware that Matilda is doing the same thing, perhaps even better than her, for the nurse spent more time with the elven woman. Bot women sense that something is wrong, although neither of them could read Fuin as well as they would like. Still, young as they were compared to the elleth in front of them, at one time Sorrow held them both in its strong arms and spun them softly and sweetly in a mournful dance. Every woman in that room has experienced loss; Death and Sorrow are not strangers to them. They know the deep waters of Pain and what it is like to paint your face to hide your face… The price you have to pay to put that mask on you and wear it in public, pretending that you are what you are not; that you do not feel what you feel…

“That’s good,” Fuin spoke after a while, nodding her head as if she just saw her apprentice deliver her a sketch of an object and she approved its design. “They’ll probably take me off your hands, make room for more needed souls to recover,” the elven woman said changing the subject with a smile and all too cheerful tone.

Nessa glances at Matilda and sees the same worry reflected in Matilda’s eyes. Something is wrong, they deduce it from Fuin’s tone and behaviour. They are aware that their patient is hiding something from them, but they can only speculate what it is. Perhaps the gaps in their patient’s memory were greater than they thought, and she could not remember who Ruindil and Mylien are. Mayhap the eerie blackness of the void created was too frightening to face, for in the end what if that what was lost could not be found?

“You’ll get a laugh Sweet Grandchild from Ruindil,” Fuin tells Matilda, laughing and Nessa notices her eyes are lighter. “He’s no Gondorian noble, he’s brasher than I am so perhaps no blushing,” the elleth says with a wink as she teases the blushing nurse. The words and the tone tell the nurse and the young healer that their patient remembered who the other two members of her family are.

“He’ll be on you like a bee to a flower,” Fuin continues cheekily as Matilda looks at her with both eyebrows raised. “If you need help just give him a swat and call in Mylien, she’s a bit of a badger on that one if he goes too far.”
“You are not allowed to steal our nurses and abscond with them, Grandmother!” Nessa cries out laughing at Fuin’s brashness, aware that this was the elleth’s way of coping with trauma.
“I also wasn’t allowed to steal a helm of a Citadel Guard…” Fuin responds with a mischievous smile. “Yet, I have one of those too.”
“A helm is not a bride, Grandmother,” Nessa replied cheekily, accepting and supporting the playful course the conversation meandered to. “Although, a mithril helm would make a fine bride price,” she says glancing at Matilda who is glaring daggers at both of them.
“Then I will trade you one Citadel helm for a bride,” the elleth responds.
“You are both impossible today!” the nurse cries out exasperatedly. “Do I not have a say in this matter?!”
“Absolutely,” Fuin responds calmly, but her eyes are filled with mischief. “Would you like me to dye the helm’s feathers a certain colour before I hand it over?” she enquires with a cheeky wink.
“Too much time chasing Fred has affected your wits, Grandmother,” Matilda says sternly, but the twinkling of laughter in her eyes betrays her. “Porphyry,” she breathes out and Nessa laughs at the nurse’s daring.
“I’ll get some shells from Dol Amroth to make the dye, it will be fabulous,” Fuin says with a grin. “Also, we all know I did not chase after Fred,” she says airily with a dismissive wave of her hand. “My leg is too wounded to permit that and you’d yell at me because I could stumble and hit my head again. You yelled at me three days ago for hobbling my way to the garden,” she looks pointedly at the nurse who tries to come with some sort of response to this but does not manage in time. “No,” the elleth continues, shaking her head slightly. “We all know I am reduced to yelling obscene sexual things and seeing if he faints. Alas, no chasing involved.”
“Grandmother!” Matilda cried striving to be stern. “You are not helping your case!”
“But she is providing much-needed amusement,” Nessa remarks in between bursts of laughter. “Well, I suppose poor Fred isn’t amused. A pity.”
“And how am I hurting my case?” Fuin asks mock-seriously. “I have been a model patient and stayed in my room, knitting scarves for sweet grandchildren,” she says innocently. “Yelling obscenities as asked.”
“I did not ask you to yell obscenities at the ninny!” Matilda cried interrupting Fuin mid-sentence, but the elleth paid her no mind.
“Well, I could chase him instead,” Fuin muses aloud. “It would provide far more entertainment – the poor boy can try to avoid me… If I catch him we make him wear a frilly short skirt and apron while he mops the floor at the reception. It will be fantastic!” there's a gleam in the elleth’s eyes as she paints such a vivid picture of this event that the two young women cannot help but laugh.
“Grandmother!” Matilda cries again, holding her hand on her stomach, her cheeks flushed from laughter. “An elleth your age and in your condition should not be chasing silly boys around the Houses of Healing!”
“Perhaps,” Nessa breathes out as she struggles to refrain from laughing. “It might be prudent to mention this to Ian,” the healer says sweetly as she watches the nurse. “You were planning to talk to him anyway… Might as well tell him to warn Fried, or use this as an excuse to start a conversation…” Nessa says teasingly.
“You… I…” Matilda splutters. “You are impossible! And I do not need an excuse to go talk to Ian!” she cries crossing her hands in front of her. “But if you insist I shall mention this to him.”


OOC: The dialogue part was a joint effort of me and Fuin via Discord, and everything was approved prior to posting.
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Falaneth
At Reception
with Malanor, Ms Irma and Nurse Maeth


Falaneth shrank into the wall, solid and cool behind her. She wondered idly what it would be like to become one herself. To be stone and sand, solid and strong instead of small and quiet and soft flesh so easily wounded. She rubbed her wrist. A wall could watch and listen and learn without really being seen or noticed, sometimes so invisible they were walked into head on by those caught unaware.

Malanor stepped in front of her, bearing the brunt of the battle and it seemed that she was mercifully forgotten for a moment. She watched with wide eyes as the viper of a woman met her match in the nurse who scolded Ms Irma like a child. Or so she thought...instead, it added fuel to the fire and Falaneth swore Ms Irma’s screams somehow reached new heights that could quite possibly shatter glass.

She flinched. Even the guard seemed to melt a little under the woman’s hot air. Still, even after the way she hollered at him on the street, carrying on about the way he supposedly accosted her, and the way she looked ready to explode at any moment like a tea-kettle about to boil, the poor man did the impossible and kept a level head in advising her to do the only sensible thing. She felt a new burst of respect for him. Unfortunately, Falaneth did not believe the woman had a single sensible bone in her body and would not listen to reason. Perhaps a touch of drama, a subtle threat, would get through to her, like speaking her own deranged language...

“If I may…” Falaneth brushed past Malanor and frowned at Ms Irma, feigning deepest concern for her (though the expression was entirely genuine for other reasons, of course).

“You must have your ankle seen to...unless I misheard you before, I thought you said it was broken? I am sure the nurse would know more than me, but I am quite afraid that if you don’t have it tended very soon...it might need to be...” She looked at the floor, cringing, before she breathed the word as if afraid to say it out loud--

“Amputated.”

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Tarawen
The Gardens with Maegon


“You must be quite a gardener, growing up with my brother to teach you,” Tara said softly. She smiled as she imagined her brother sharing his knowledge and love for tending to things that grew. She did not dwell long on this thought, though, for Maegon fidgeted with excitement at the prospect of a story about the fabled family sword.

“Alright,” she went on, “Here’s a story you won’t have heard.” She cast back into her memory for all the details that would make this tale worth the telling.

“You must have heard that I’ve spent the last several years in the north. Well, this is a story about my first journey to those lands. I had just left Minas Tirith, and the sword still felt heavy in my hands - I hadn’t trained much or very well with it at the time.

I didn’t make the journey north all in one go, of course. It’s quite a long way away, and the trip was all the more difficult because I’d never done it before. So, one night as I sat by my campfire, I was so tired that I couldn’t help it - I fell asleep right then and there. I’d been holding the sword, and it slipped from my hands. The edge of the blade must have landed in the fire. When I woke up, it was to the sound of wolves prowling close and my horse stamping at the ground. The wolves moved quietly, but I heard them growling. Even though I was sitting by a fire, my blood ran cold - I was sure those wolves would be the end of me!”

Tarawen paused here for dramatic effect, a look of horror frozen on her face. After a moment, though, she let her features relax into a smile.

“Of course, that’s not how the story ends. I’m here talking to you today, aren’t I? Without thinking, I picked up the sword and found that the blade was glowing red-hot from the fire. The grip was warm in my hand, but lucky for me, it wasn’t blazing hot like the blade. It was dark and I was still tired, so my aim was not as true as it might have been. And I’ve already told you that I wasn’t yet used to wielding the sword. So,” she paused once more, “what do you think happened next?”
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The Gardens
Maegon and Tarawen


His head lifted and the smile on his young face beamed even more as Tarawen acknowledge that he must be quite the gardner. He took great pride in learning as much as he could, already able to name every single plant that was growing here. He still had yet to learn what each plant could do, but he was still proud of at least being able to name them. But he kept that to himself for the moment as Tarawen carried on, eager to hear a story from her, especially if it was going to be one he had not heard before.

Barely able to stop himself from literally bouncing in his seat, he fiddled even more with the leaf in his hands, crumbling the poor thing to pieces even before Tarawen had begun. Unaware of the leaf's fate, he eagerly nodded his head as she asked if he had heard of her heading north, immediately trying to picture the cities and towns she would have seen along the way.

The more Tarawen relayed of her story, the more his mouth gaped as he leaned forward, gasping as she told of the wolves prowling near. Having lived all of his life in the City, he had never seen a wolf himself, but being a young boy he had a vivid imagination and his eyes went wide at the thought of the danger his Step-Aunt had been in. Riveted by the story so far, he even gasped at the thought of the wolves having gotten the better of her, chuckling nervously as Tarawen relaxed and smiled. Feeling a little silly, as she was obviously ok as she was here now, he still wanted to know what had happened and how she had gotten away alive.

As Tarawen paused and asked him what he thought happened next, his imagination immediately filled in the rest of the scene for him. Excitedly he jumped up and grabbed a small stick near the bench.

"You swung the blazing sword, lighting the night and setting the wolves on fire as you stabbed them!" Each word was punctuated by a swing or a stab of his stick-sword, ending it with a flourish as he pretended to stab a wolf laying at his feet, his eyes flying up to his Aunt to see if his version was true or not.

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Tarawen
The Gardens with Maegon


Tarawen was a composed, steady person. This trait had helped her to do well as a ranger: rare was the day when she was too rattled to tackle a situation head-on. If something threatening leapt out of the trees at her, she would of course be startled momentarily, but then she would collect herself and swiftly have an arrow nocked to her bowstring or her sword in hand. And when others roared with laughter in a pub, she would smile, nod, and turn back to her thoughts. This stoicism had made it all the more remarkable when she left the city in a fit of temper, amidst a fight with her brother. And so she surprised even herself when a gale of hearty laughter burst from her at the sight of Maegon acting out her fight with the wolves.

“That’s very good!” she remarked, watching with amusement as he stabbed the final imaginary wolf at his feet. “But alas! I was not as skilled with the sword as you.” She smiled, then stood up herself. She gripped an invisible sword and proceeded to act out what had actually happened:

“I was tired and untrained and quite unfit to wield the sword that night,” she began. “It was far heavier in my hand than I expected, but I was determined to get in a swing or two at the wolves, if only to scare them a bit. I lifted it overhead with two hands to strike, but then I lost my balance. The sword missed the wolf I was aiming for and struck a large stone.” Here, Tarawen mimed the sword coming down heavily to hit the rock. “A great shower of sparks burst from the place where the sword and stone met. I jumped back a bit, not wanting to be burned myself. Well, some of those sparks landed on the nose and fur of the nearest wolf.” At this, Tarawen paused in her reenactment. She brushed at her nose, just as the wolf had pawed at his. “His nose must have been stinging! And then he noticed that his fur had caught in a couple of places. He yelped and ran off, and the rest of the pack followed.”

She hoped now, just as she had that night, that the wolf hadn’t been too badly hurt. The flames had been small enough for a gust of wind to blow them out, and it did rain later that night. She had since killed wolves, of course, but always out of necessity. It gave her no pleasure to do so.

“I was very, very lucky that night,” she told Maegon seriously. She seated herself on their bench again and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “And I hope the wolf wasn’t truly burned. I like animals, really. I just prefer it when they don’t try to eat me.” She placed her hands on her knees and looked her nephew in the eyes. “Well, that’s my story! Let it be a lesson to you: learn to use your tools before you need them!” And she laughed heartily again, this time at her own youthful foolishness.
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The Gardens
Maegon and Tarawen


Not for a second had it occured to him that his step-aunt hadn't known how to use the sword, the surprise of learning that was the case written all over his young face. Of course it made sense there would have been a time where she wouldn't have known, but for some reason he had always believed that she had been proficient with it, never really giving thought to how that then transpired. Still, burning a wolf to run it off was not bad either!

He nodded seriously at her words, acknowledging the advice for what it was. Growing more sombre as his thoughts went to how his mother would adamantly tell him that under no circumstances would he ever be joining the Rangers, despite his youthful enthusiasm for everything adventurous. A ton of questions burned to be asked, however he only got a few words out before he heard his mother's voice and visibly cringed.

"Maegon! Time to go. Now."

Curt and impatient, Inara stood by the door to the garden, never taking a moment to appreciate the quiet beauty of the place that her husband and son adored so much. Eyes flicking nervously to his mother, Meagon reluctantly stood, desperate to hear more of Tarawen's stories.

"Thank you for the story.." he mumbled disappointedly, though suddenly his face lit up and he braved his mother's ire and stepped in and gave his step-aunt a huge hug before quickly darting off in the direction of his mother who was now sporting an annoyed look and Findis who was already heading out of the garden without bothering to say goodbye.

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Tarawen
The Gardens with Maegon


Seeing Maegon ruminating on her hard-won advice made Tarawen smile. The lad certainly was eager for stories of the wild north - a child after her own heart. Even better, he seemed to take what she said about learning to wield one’s sword properly to heart. With the way his eyes had lit up with passionate interest in her tale, she began to image and hope that he would be the next person to inherit her father’s sword. That would be a neat way to tie up the fight she and Maenion had had so long ago. And the way things were going lately, she realized, maybe the day for Maegon to take it up would come sooner than later. She had come back here, after all. What use would the sword be to her now that she was facing down life in the city once more? For him, all sorts of possibilities lay in store.

She observed his face darkening all of a sudden and wondered what could bring such a troubled expression to the face of a boy so young. It’s probably not a good sign that my first thought ran to his mother, she thought. But it was true. Inara had done little to ingratiate herself with Tarawen - in fact, she had gone to great lengths to do just the opposite. It would not be a stretch of the imagination to think that she was a severe and strict mother, too. Tarawen resolved in that moment to help the boy pursue his dreams, whatever they might be, however she could - even if that meant a battle of wills with his mother.

Maegon had just begun to ask her a question when Inara’s voice cracked like a whip through the stillness of the gardens. Her son jumped, then prepared to go.

“You’re welcome,” Tarawen said to him with a smile. “Let’s chat some more sometime soon, okay? I’ll find a way to come visit once your father goes home from the Houses of Healing. I hope that will be very soon.” She returned his embrace and watched the three figures exit the bright garden. With a sigh, she retraced her steps to her room, thinking vaguely that it was time to find herself some proper lodging in the city.
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Study, Quintus de Scardena with @Pele Alarion

Quintus chuckled at Pele’s remark that his wife, Valeria, was correct in her assessment regarding his tendency for philosophical musings. It did not come as a surprise to him to hear that the Master Healer was a most practical woman, not prone to deep diving into philosophical musings. Perhaps it was an age thing, or a quirk of his… Mayhap, even a product of too much time spent on administrative matters. Sometimes he wondered if he should resume his practice, seeing and treating the patients that came to the Houses of Healing. The thought was alluring, especially when he looked at the list of active healers. In his opinion, there were always too few healers considering the size of the White City.

Quintus sighed quietly as Pele thought about his question. There was a reason he was promoted to the administrative ranks. He might not always enjoy the work that came with his position, and administration was not meant to be enjoyable, but it was necessary work. There were challenges here too, different than those a healer encountered when seeing a patient, often demanding and difficult to navigate, requiring a specific skill set. His recent proposal to the King and Queen was a testament to that…

“Yes, she is Shaela’s granddaughter, Naela,” Pele’s words interrupted his meandering thoughts and he took a sip of his tea and focused his attention on the Master Healer. “I think of her as of a very prospective healer; she is very inquisitive, not afraid to ask questions, eager to look into books. And then there are basics her grandmother has already taught her. I think we will not be left without wanting for new healers.”

For a while, the senior administrator was quiet, thinking about what Pele said of her new apprentice. Deep in thought, he absentmindedly reached out to the plate and took a pepper-honey biscuit in the shape of a tree and took a bite. A few crumbs fell on his blue-grey tunic, but he took no notice of that for the moment, enwrapped in the delicious taste of the biscuit.

“This is good to hear,” he spoke after a while and then noticed the crumbs on his tunic. He dusted them off quite unconcerned by his looks. “I am glad that the Houses, and you especially, got an astute, hard-working and quick-witted apprentice. I can only hope more like Naela will join our ranks…” he said and took a sip of his tea. He reached out and took another pepper-honey biscuit from the plate and ate it. “And how are you, Pele?” he asked her after a while. “How is your shoulder? Oh, don’t look so alarmed, my dear,” he said calmly with a wave of his hand. “I am not planning to place you on medical leave. It would be pointless and counterproductive. I simply wish to know how are you feeling; and should the order from the top come regarding your medical condition I would like us to work together to find an optimal solution for everyone involved."



~*~




Administrative building, office of the Senior Administrator – Quintus de Scardena with Amethyst “Amy” Nerennia @Rillewen
November of 3018 T.A.

Quintus observed his young apprentice as she hesitantly accepted his offer of refreshment. He stood up unhurriedly and walked toward the shelves filled with a variety of objects and found a matching porcelain cup and a saucer. He came back to the low table and placed the china down and took the kettle with the tea and poured the hot liquid into the cup. Putting the kettle down he set the cup and saucer next to Amy and sat on the armchair opposite her. His tea was on the table next to him, but he made no move to reach for it.

Quintus leaned back in the armchair and adjusted his posture in the hope that some of the tension would leave his young apprentice. He was silent as he observed the young woman sitting in the chair opposite him. Something was troubling Amy, it was clear from the way that she walked, how she nervously ruffled through the papers she brought with her and how she avoided his gaze. However, Quintus did not press her. He learned long ago to be patient and give the other person time to marshal their thoughts. Nature abhors a vacuum, a philosopher once said, and the same could be said for people and silences. People did not like the sound of silence.

“Sir,” Amy spoke her voice quiet and hesitant. She paused as she struggled to calm down, taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. Quintus sat unmoving in the armchair opposite her. “I’m afraid I… I can’t finish the assignment,” she said in a rush. Quintus continued to observe her, aware that there was more to this than she was saying. And there was. “I can’t finish it, because… I have to quit. I have to leave. I’m sorry.” Words spoken in a rush, with a shaky voice barely above a whisper. Spoken by a young woman on the verge of tears.

A few moments pass before Quintus speaks. “Amy,” he calls out to her in a calm and quiet voice. “Have some tea, please,” he tells her gesturing to the cup in front of her. “Drink it slowly, it will soothe you for a while. Take your time,” he says gently knowing that whatever prompted her to come to him and say that she was leaving was an utmost serious matter. He wonders if something happened to her fiance, but chooses to worry about that later. “When you feel up to it, could you, please, tell me what happened? I think starting from the beginning would do best,” he says as his lips curl into a small smile. “Take your time,” he repeats once again. “No need to rush. I am here, there’s enough tea and I’m sure there’s a tin of biscuits somewhere on those shelves,” he says gesturing vaguely in that direction. “Whatever is troubling you, I will listen and try to help. Perhaps I might not do much, but I am here and perhaps just talking will make you feel a bit better.”
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@Nessa Saelind

Amethyst "Amy" Nerennia
November of 3018, T.A. Quintas de Scardena's office

It was with much relief that Amy heard Quintus speak; he did not sound the least bit upset, but instead just told her to drink her tea. She blinked and stared at him for a puzzled few seconds before looking down at the teacup. She had said she'd like some, didn't she? Quietly, she picked up the cup, staring at the liquid for a moment before taking a tiny sip. Tea wasn't going to help anything. She blinked away more tears and then with her free hand, brushed them away. It became harder to swallow the tea as she fought to keep from becoming any more emotional than she already felt.

He thought talking would help? She frowned slightly to herself. Nothing was going to help this. Nothing except action, and a lot of luck, and determination. The latter, she wasn't lacking in, at least, even if she lacked a lot in the second area. Taking another small sip of the tea, she acknowledged to herself the fact that it was only fair to give her mentor a full explanation. She'd been hiding her pain and anguish from everyone as best she could, fearing that someone would criticize or make some rude comment that would only upset her more. Or, that others might start giving her sympathetic looks or constantly asking her questions with that honeyed tone as if they felt sorry for her.

But, as Amy thought now, she ought to have told Quintus, she supposed. He wouldn't have done those things, would he? Surely not. She took another sip of tea, exhaling a little shakily. "I got a letter.. from my sister." She said softly, at last. "Our mother died." She knew that wasn't the reason she had to leave and he would surely know as much, too. But it was a starting point. She took a few moments to let wash over her the pain of admitting to another person that she'd lost her mother. Having kept that grievous news to herself this long had made it harder to admit even to herself. Having to face the fact, at last, was painful. After a moment she took another sip and wiped her eyes yet again. "My sister has gone, she didn't say where she was going, just that she'd went off to explore the world." She frowned deeper, wishing her annoying little sister would grow up and take on some responsibility for a change, but that was far from a surprise to Amy.

And now to explain the hardest part of all. The whole reason why Amy was having to leave. This was difficult, and she couldn't find the right words. She'd kept up a facade for so long, trying to pretend nothing was wrong, that she was merely worried because he was stationed far away... She took a shaky breath. "I'm..I'm leaving, because I-" He was going to think it was absolutely absurd, she thought, pausing. He'd tell her to leave the matter to the guards, to let them handle it. But she was determined. "I have to find my fiancee." She finally said it, looking down into her tea. Her voice had shook a little bit, but it was finally done. Sniffling quietly, she stared at the tea in her cup.





"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Ann Kalagon with Pele Alarion @Pele Alarion
Healer quarters: storage

Pele most agreeably took the teapot and steeped a fresh pot. As she refreshed their mugs, Pele guessed the next treasure to be revealed was a special honey. Ann laughed, “good guess! They are known for their great bees! They really are big!”

She pulled a wide green glass jar from the bottom of the saddle bag and handed it to Pele. It was capped with a bark plug and wax, and there was a string end to pull the cap out.

“Yes. Beorning honey! And this one truly is a special blend, on account of those great bees. This honey is a mix of honeycomb, pollen, a special bees-wax that has medicinal properties, and queen jelly too—from one of the magnificent beehives they shepherd near their hold. It is a most medicinal tonic! And this jar is just for you; it is really meant for one person to use. Use it when you feel maybe run-down? Take a spoon every morning for 10 days.”

Ann reached into the saddle bag and pulled out one more bundle of herbs. “This bag is empty, other than this batch of lavender I gathered in the Beorning gardens.” She laid the lavender on the table near Pele, set the empty saddlebag by the wall, reached over and pulled the other bag next to her.

“So, to go on it was a long crossing of the woods back from Dale, but no more spiders. The Elves path is tended and open. And my cousins and I were traveling with a party of dwarves through the forest. We stayed with my mother for a few weeks, then we continued on to the Beornings’ holdings. Pele, it was a rare treat for me to stay with my cousins on my mother’s side! I celebrated the solstice with them and then stayed on through the winter.

“Then when I prepared to go on and journey west over the mountains toward Arnor, my cousins announced they were accompanying me over the mountains! They are rather formidable, these cousins. Well, they figured once across the Misty Mountains, from the Road near to Rivendell I should find other travelers who might welcome an extra pair of eyes and arms. “And they were right!” Ann snagged a piece of yellow cheese and took a bite, then opened the other saddle bag.

“This batch,” and she paused to pull out a bundle of herbs wrapped in a red cloth and tied. “This is Misty Mountains athelas. I found it in a mountain valley, near a small stream.”

Next came a similar-sized bundle of a mint tied in bluish cloth, laid on the table by the red.

“Mint for tea, from the Misty Mountains as well.” Being reminded of the fresh hot tea, Ann topped off her mug and added more honey. The other bag now by her knees looked to have more jars inside and other bundles.

“By the way, Pele, I am in need of lodgings. What is it like here, in the Houses? I like the idea of living near such gardens.”
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Recovery rooms – with @Nessa Saelind and Matilda
CW: Depression, PTSD, disassociation, mental manipulation, self harm via sleep deprivation Please feel free to skip if you are not in a place to read this post


"Or you could not tell him." Fuin said with a cheeky smile, "Make it easier on me, less hobbling." She said calmly. She had missed their exchanged look of worry she had been scrambling to put the mask back on. Slamming the darkness that threatened to devour her whole like the darkness of the elven ship that she woke on when she finally regained her sense after Afarfins death. She'd screamed her lungs out until her voice was gone and she was utterly spent with nothing but her rage at Aigronding to keep her going. That was not an option here. No she could not do that, she had to keep from doing what she wanted to she couldn't hurt these people. They had been kind to her they hadn't done anything.

The dark tendrils that she had fought so long in elven dreams that not even Elrond had been able to shake or break when she'd been in his care for a decade thinking perhaps they were from the blade that had come so very close to killing her, no they came from something darker, older, with its fingers dug deep into her soul when she was still to young to defend. And now his voice was rooted deep in her mind. The whispers of his voice scratched endlessly at her mind demanding an audience, as they had not in many years. Why were they so strong? Why couldn't she silence them as she always had?

The jokes and laughter made it easier to keep that darkness at bay and soon the two women left, at least for a short while, and Fuins mask fell away entirely. She headed for the door and leaned against it, mostly to make sure that they couldn't come in while she was not expecting them. She clutched at her head as the whispers grew louder and louder until they felt like she was inside the forges of the dwarves ages ago when they rang loud with hammer on steel and anvil until she pressed the heels of her palms into them looking up to the sky tears falling for the first time in ages as she tried to regain her bearings and senses, her family was coming Mylien and Ruindil, they didn't even know the full scope of the darkness that had turned Melviriel into Fuin. How could they? She was shaking hard trying desperately to catch her breath wiping the tears away roughly.

"Faren" (enough) She hissed angrily at herself, she concentrated on the sky far beyond the window of her room letting her mind go utterly blank she limped her way to the window and sat at it so that she could continue to pass the time forcing her mind to remove itself from whatever it was that Nessa's news had threatened to let out Arien started to track to the western horizon and Fuin heard the door open vaguely she hadn't moved in hours she realized and she blinked and turned towards the door to find that it was some nurse come to make sure she had food, not Tilda and then make sure she was good to sleep.

Sleep. No that would not do. Fuin thought knowing those whispers. She nodded and was soon in bed, her eyes open and she was so near falling to the elven sleep but stayed out of it. She couldn't sleep and then the door opened and she had to keep herself from tensing and reacting as Tilda walked up quietly beside her to check on her. She didn't move didn't track her but she saw her go 'Oh' perhaps in shock that her eyes were open, she'd slept with her eyes closed for the longest time in the House of Healing and so the night passed with Tilda slipping away before she would normally wake up and so everything was well.

Days passed in a dull blur of exhaustion she wanted to sleep so badly but she couldn't it was the only thing she could control right now as the whispers kept scratching and Matilda the nurse, she was there in the room at night, when they were the loudest when they screamed for blood and her whole spirit demanded vengeance. No she couldn't sleep, she had to not sleep, what day was it? Her mind struggled to place itself and by the fourth night she was struggling more than she ever had but she had to be strong. Why wouldn't Matilda just leave as she slept? She needed to leave she had to leave she was in danger why didn't she understand that? How could Fuin tell her that though without letting her know about the growing darkness that she had hidden for so many years, until it was so much a part of her that she wasn't even sure she could exist without it anymore She jerked in the bed, realizing she had started to fall asleep. Her hands were already fists tight enough she was certain her nails were cutting into her own flesh and she glanced about seeing Matilda sitting perfectly still watching her closely ready to spring Fuin hoped away from her... how many hours were left until Arien returned and her fight to stay awake was eased by the hot kiss of the sun? Too many. She had to make it though.

She had to.

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Pele with Ann @Ankala Teaweed
Storage rooms


"This... for me?" Pele's blue eyes glinted with joy, as she examined the jar of Beorning honey. "I am sorely tempted to devour it all this very moment!" And so she would if eating a great quantity at once would help with the constant weariness she still felt, but she knew well that all it would do would possibly make her sick, and it would be a waste of a precious item. Setting the jar aside carefully, she focused on anything else Ann would bring out of her bags.

"Lavender, athelas, and mint," she mumbled, jotting down the herbs in the list that was already quite lengthy. "Your bags definitely seem to be near measureless!"

As she listened to further account of travels that Ann had been on, Pele could not help but feel a slight tinge of envy; not that she had not had her own travels, but she would have given much to have that replaced by something more enjoyable.

Almost automatically she reached for another half of a bun, topped it with a fair amount of butter and honey, and munched on a delicious morsel, as she considered Ann's question about lodgings.
"Hmm. The Houses are not exactly an inn," she said thoughtfully, "but we do have a bit of space for healers to stay in, and I figure you could gain access to a room if you aimed to convince the folk in charge of the premises and presented a strong proof that you want to work here and for that purpose need a view of the gardens all day long." Pele chuckled softly, as she popped another bit of food in her mouth. "Perhaps you could use my room, if not, as I mostly use the barracks either way."


~~~~~
Master Healer Pele Alarion with Unalmis @Ercassie and Matilda @Nessa Saelind
Reception


"Suppose it would help to know that you can at least bandage a wound if nothing else," Pele responded upon finding out that Nal had come for training. A rather impish grin appeared on her face, when she added: "Though you better pay proper attention else I'm not sure anyone would want to trust you even with binding up a cut finger. Also, what's that about Naela? Did you have a secondary - or... primary? - purpose to visit with her?"

When Unalmis produced the envelope, she took it and began to examine the contents, putting up a show of innocence in terms of causing a possible further confusion for the young man with her comments. "It is good to hear that your father is recovering well," Pele remarked, as she read the note and looked at the images on the marked pages thoughtfully. It seemed that no matter how she tried to get used to the loss of the finger and act natural to avoid drawing attention of others, it was not something that could escape a practiced eye.

"Rohan, you say?" she spoke, as she considered the options presented by the contents of envelope a bit longer. Somehow she was not surprised. At any rate, it seemed that Addhor had at least listened to her recommendations long enough to give his limb some rest. Yet, perhaps she should pay him a visit before he escaped, at least to check on his health if nothing else.

Securing the envelope and everything in it away in a safe pocket, Pele turned her attention back to Nal properly and then glanced at the soaked and slightly crumpled looking flowers, sharing a knowledgeable look with Matilda. "Right, if you came for training, some of it you will get," the healer decided. "Come, let's head over to the storage rooms, and you will show me what you would take with you as part of the basic Ranger's healing kit."

~~~~~
Pele with Quintus de Scardena @Nessa Saelind
Study


She was definitely not opposed to having more healers join their ranks, also for somewhat selfish reasons as it would make it a bit easier to combine her healer and Ranger duties, and perhaps even free up a bit more time to recuperate. "It is definitely very good, and it would be nice to have a few more people like Naela around here," Pele agreed, as she paid attention to not snatching up too many biscuits at once.

"Ohhhh," the healer exclaimed unwittingly, when Quintus asked about her shoulder and she realised what was the reason he had come with delicious things. She couldn't help but chuckle softly at the man's subtle approach to sensitive matters.

"You would definitely have to lock me up and tie me to a bed for good measure if there was a need for complete 'not allowed to do anything' type of treatment," she said, and took a sip of tea while her blue eyes danced with merriment regardless of the seriousness of the topic. "The shoulder has mostly healed, though I'm still working on regaining full movement and strength in it; the last campaign threw the plans a bit off and I had to rest the shoulder for a bit after the strenuous use."

Pele took another biscuit and began to nibble on it, giving herself a few moments to think. She was not completely sure how many details Quintus was aware of in terms of her health, and she wondered how much she should reveal. Eventually she settled for something of a round-about approach: "I've been taking it as easy as possible lately, eating a plenty of nutritious food and doing my best to sleep properly. Though, if you would rather see for yourself, you can examine my shoulder and such."
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Matilda Hawthorn with Unalmis (@Ercassie) and Master Healer @Pele Alarion at the reception

Matilda’s face was a portrait of serenity, one could almost say that the golden-haired nurse strived to imitate the painting of Beata Beatrix, as she observed Unalmis’ struggles. She looked beatific if one did not look in her cornflower blue eyes that betrayed her, for humour and mischief sparkled and danced in them.

“You’re Naela?” the boy, for his facial expressions, voice and actions made the nurse see the young ranger as a boy, inquired uncertainly. “No… I mean, can you tell me your name?”, he asked her tilting his head in confusion, cementing the impression of a confused lad with a scratch of his head. “Or is this a test? For the training?”

Matilda’s eyebrow arched in a questioning manner as she continued to observe the confused Unalmis. It was becoming apparent to her that the boy, for she continued to think and view him as a boy even though they were approximately the same age, could not remember who Naela was or what she looks like. The nurse continued to observe the young ranger as she mused about his behaviour. She wondered if his confusion about Naela’s identity was a result of a head injury, a blow to the head that caused a concussion? However, Unalmis did not appear to be injured… A bit clumsy, yes, but most male rangers tended to get a case of the clumsiness when they entered the Houses of Healing. The nurse bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a giggle. Injury was not the cause of the boy ranger’s confusion, Matilda concluded. It was more likely his nature, the boyishness still present despite his age and occupation.

She could see how this lost boy image the young ranger projected could simultaneously be endearing and a cause of frustration. He was certainly an engrossing distraction; a lost boy spirited away to Faerie where time did not pass and he was kept safe from harm. She shook her head, the golden locks of her hair swaying slightly. Perhaps it was she who spent too much time in the library, but the old stones kept memories of ages past and shared them with those who knew how to listen.

“So, what’s going on here?” Pele’s voice drifted toward the two people at the reception, interrupting their quaint interaction. “Any of you requiring a healing touch?”

The golden-haired nurse again bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop the giggle that threatened to erupt from her like the waves of fire from Amon Amrath. Unalmis certainly looked like he would need one, or at least a tonic for the migraine that was forming from all the thinking and remembering that was thrust upon him. She watched the interaction between the freewheeling young ranger and the semi-serious Master Healer with unbridled amusement. She moved slightly, fading to the background as only nurses knew, aware that she did not offer the lad her name.

For the moment Matilda minded not a jot that she remained a nameless dim-grey entity since Pele’s presence acted as a focus for Unalmis. The purpose of his visit stumbled out of him like a newborn foal and once the gate was opened the words did not stop. And Matilda could not stop an undignified snort when the boy ranger finally realised that she was not, in fact, Naela and proudly announced it. She lowered her gaze and let her hair hide her face slightly as she struggled to keep her mirth hidden from view. This boy ranger was truly in a league and a world of his own…

By the time the conversation moved on to Addhor, the nurse became sombre again and lifted her head. Tucking her hair behind her ears she felt slightly awkward for standing there, listening to a private conversation. It was not an unusual situation for her, healers talked to their patients or the patients’ family about private matters as well as their health in her presence. It was easier when she knew or at least treated the patient… Still, she felt awkward and hesitated to draw attention to herself. However, she needn’t have tried. In the end, Unalmis turned to her and apologised about the flowers and yawned. A bright, warm laugh escaped her.

“Can we please start again?” he asked and she gave him a warm welcoming smile in response.
“Matilda,” she said still smiling. “My name is Matilda, tis an uncomplicated enough name to remember. Do you think you can do that boy ranger?” she asked teasingly before turning to the Master Healer. “If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am, I’d like to stay and accompany you. I have a feeling that we’re going to need all the help we can get with the lad.”

~*~



Study, Quintus de Scardena with @Pele Alarion

Although Quintus did not doubt that the Master Healer would agree with him regarding the matter of having more healers and apprentices in the Houses of Healing, he was more interested in her reaction to his question about her shoulder. The question was the reason he armoured himself with tea and pepper-honey biscuits and ventured forth to the study. His storm-grey eyes twinkled with amusement as he observed Pele’s reaction to his question. The Master Healer did not disappoint him with her answer.

“You would definitely have to lock me up and tie me to a bed for good measure if there was a need for complete ‘not allowed to do anything’ type of treatment,” Pele told him and sipped her tea. He chuckled at her response; it was what he expected of the outdoorswoman who loved nature with a fierce passion. Pele would not be confined to bed rest, not even for the King himself.

The healer turned administrator listened attentively to Pele as she offered a brief explanation about the treatment of her injury. He hummed and nodded his head at the appropriate moments, enjoying his tea in-between, but otherwise refrained from commenting. He sensed that Pele was reluctant to talk about her injury and recovery process with him, but after listening to what she chose to tell him of her recovery process he could not find fault in her actions.

“Tough, if you would rather see for yourself, you can examine my shoulder and such,” at the Master Healer’s final words Quintus lowered the, now empty, cup on the saucer and placed the china on the table next to him. He sat quietly for a few moments, observing Pele and contemplating her suggestion. Of course, he could examine her shoulder and later look at her medical records and compare the information about her injury. It was a sound suggestion from a level-headed colleague and perhaps one day he or another healer would be called to do exactly that.

However, he knew that Pele told him the truth, or as much of the truth she was comfortable sharing, regarding the treatment of her injured shoulder. And she trusted him enough or felt comfortable enough to suggest that he should examine her shoulder himself. He was honoured by that gesture of trust, for he knew that healers and rangers (and Pele, much like his son, walked in both worlds) rarely spoke about their injuries.

“I am honoured, Pele, and also glad and relieved by your suggestion,” he replied after a thoughtful silence. “More than you’ll ever know. However, I don’t think it will be necessary. You are a healer yourself, and a very sensible and practical person. You know your body’s limits and you would not endanger yourself or risk your health by ignoring an injury, or not treating it properly,” he said looking at her, his face and voice serious, but there was warmth in there. “Besides,” he continued the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. “The Warden of the Houses of Healing is usually not in the habit of naming fools as Master Healers,” he tells her his voice filled with mirth and an echo of laughter of things passed. For indeed, the Wardens of the Houses of Healing were neither known nor prone to promoting or suffering fools, but throughout the years there have been some unusual choices regarding promotions. Quintus should know, he was one of them. He shook his head and looked at the current Master Healer. “I believe I have enquired more than enough about your health for one day,” he said with a smile. “Perhaps I should now return the favour and allow you to ask me some questions hmmm,” he said and chuckled slightly. “Or we can just sit here and enjoy our tea and biscuits, perhaps share a story or two…”
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Unalmis Raxëlilta – reporting for Training
At Reception with Matilda Hawthorn and Pele Alarion
@Nessa Saelind @Pele Alarion

Unalmis was not entirely sure how difficult it was to bandage an injury but the Master Healer seemed to be implying it would take some concentration to master the skill. “Do you not simply wrap the bandage around the part which is bleeding ?” he supposed with a shrug, unsure how more complicated it could be than that.

Strangely enough there had been no keen crowd of volunteers for him to practice on thus far, and his initial healer training had been somewhat rushed when he had been still a recruit. There had been a siege fast brewing as he honed the necessary combat skills, much less a dreadful Enemy approaching, and so small time had in fact been taken to ensure he was properly educated on all he might have else. They had all but patted him on the back and sent him off to do whatever duty could be managed then by one so green. As much as Beren had tried to impart any learning on the subject of healing since, they two tended to become rather distracted by the telling of tales on how folk came by their 'heroic scars' and how they fought on still despite 'woeful wounds'.


Shaking himself out of the equally distracting memory, Nal noted that Pele was now wearing a none too dissimilar smile to the younger woman, and the Ranger frowned. What was their fascination with Naela and why did they think he shared it ? He’d scarcely said two words to the apprentice on the one occasion when he had been in her company ! She’d been rather fine to look upon, he recalled, but then so were flowers. Girls and flowers, honestly. There may be some hundred uses to either one where it came to healing, and also to looking pretty, but still there was that joke that all seemed to be in on. Opening his mouth to proclaim something of just this sort, he closed it again as the Master Healer returned words of his father.

Pele, thankfully, seemed more interested in the envelope he’d delivered, than in the message which Nal maybe ought not to have spoken. He couldn’t say why this was so, having never even considered that the contents of that envelope were anything of import or worth exploring. Payment for services rendered, plain and simple. If Addhor had meant anything of a more subtle message to Pele, his son was as unaware of it as he was ignorant of noting any missing fingers. His father hadn’t broken words with him on either subject, but that was nothing new. Unalmis tended to manage most of the talking, and not only in the company of his parent. It meant less time spent listening after all. Today was going to be either a tirade of many questions or simply a trial of trying to keep quiet and still and somehow still stay alert !


The flower girl was conducting a rousing performance of expressions all this time that the young man conversed with his superior and, he figured, belatedly, her superior as well. A laugh, a smile and finally a name escaped her. “Matilda,” he repeated, as though it was a strange exotic term, or perhaps just the first thing he had so far learned in training. “Now come, I know you know my name, or have you forgotten it already ?Nal barely refrained from sticking his tongue out in a cheeky response back to her. Being called ‘boy’ though made him rise up so tall as he could manage and try to look something close to professional. But of course that ship had long since sailed.

Wait, did you say ‘storerooms ? As in plural ?” he was shocked enough to retort without thinking of how inexperienced it might sound. “Exactly how many bandages do you need here ?” he wondered, half under his breath, and even as Matilda prophesised that Pele might indeed need all the help that she could get in this particular matter.
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Matilda Hawthorn with Unalmis (@Ercassie ) and Master Healer @Pele Alarion at the reception

“Matilda,” the boy ranger repeats her name as if he’s was pronouncing a scientific name of an exotic flower. She tilts her head slightly, a small smile gracing her lips, and decides that she quite likes the way the boy said her name. “Now come, I know you know my name,” Unalmis continues and her smile turns into a grin. “Or have you forgotten it already?” he finishes and the look on his face tells her that he would want nothing more than to stick his tongue out at her for calling him a boy.

But sticking his tongue out cheekily would prove her point, she muses as she refrains from joyous laughter. He’s a very amusing distraction, this boy ranger, she thinks as she watches him straighten up from his slouched posture and standing to his full height. His height does not diminish the lost boy appearance the boy ranger is projecting, but he’s certainly trying his hardest to appear professional.

“Wait, did you say ‘storerooms’? As in plural?” the boy ranger’s ardent attempts of maintaining a professional appearance melt away like ice in the height of summer. “Exactly how many bandages do you need here?” he wonders under his breath, apparently shocked by the revelation that the Houses of Healing have and need multiple storerooms.

The nurse turns to the boy ranger with her eyebrow raised and tries to stop her lips from curling into a smile. She does not giggle at his question, despite its silliness and the fact that the boy in front of her does not seem familiar with the concept of logistics. Or the maxim that all armies have to be bred, fed and led – the axiom that also applies to the Houses of Healing.

“Yes. Storerooms, plural,” she answers his question seriously. “The Houses of Healing are the principal medical centre in the Kingdom and occupy a significant area of the 6th circle,” she starts explaining patiently. “When the architects designed this space they had in mind that the Houses of Healing would have to accommodate a large number of patients. For all of those patients to be treated and properly cared for the healers and the nurses need significant quantities of herbs, medicine, bandages…” the nurse quirks a smile. “If we did not have all those things at hand we would not be able to do our jobs. Just like if the rangers did not have enough arrows or spears or daggers or any other weapons you need,” Matilda gestures vaguely. “At your disposal, you would not be able to train or do your jobs to protect the Kingdom. And all those things need to be stored somewhere. Thus storerooms, plural,” she finishes her explanation, smiling kindly at Unalmis. “Hope I managed to clear some of the confusion, Unalmis.”
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Pele with Quintus de Scardena @Nessa Saelind
Study


Pele occupied herself with dunking the biscuit in what remained of the tea in her cup and then nibbling on it contentedly, as she watched for Quintus' reactions to the report she made of her shoulder. Though she disliked letting people know that she had any injuries at all, the shoulder was only a little bit of what still remained to be fixed. Had she returned here in the condition she was in when she had escaped from Umbar... though perhaps it would have been a better option than staying away for a few years and getting fixed elsewhere. But past was past, and currently she did not mean for it and any remaining injuries keep her from moving on with her life.

"Well, I suppose that healers also need someone to check on them once in a while," she added and shrugged lightly, as she sought to replenish the cup with some more of the warm aromatic liquid. "They might not necessarily be fools, but..." Pele could not help but wonder whether Quintus was aware how often she had worked herself to near exhaustion and how many risks she had to take when doing Ranger things. Surely, he was a very wise and experienced man, and some of the obvious signs would not escape his attention.

Settling back in her chair, she tilted her head at suggestion that came from Quintus. "Is there a reason for me to be concerned about your health that I should ask you questions? I certainly hope not!" she said, though mostly assumed that it was meant as a gesture of politeness. "A bit of relaxation and leisurely talk, on the other hand, would be very welcome."

For a few moments Pele did just that: she sat and breathed in the steam rising from the freshly poured tea, and then she asked, seemingly suddenly: "By the way... Could you recommend some highly effective sleep inducing aid?"


~~~~~
Pele with Nal @Ercassie and Matilda
Reception


She could not help but observe the interactions of the two younger folk with a grin; they seemed to tease each other, and it made Pele wonder whether she could use this for some additional benefit to the training. It would probably be vain to try and keep Unalmis focused on medical matters for long stretches of time, and a touch of fun and teasing might do good to keep him interested.

"Of course, Matilda," she agreed thus without much reluctance. "If you don't have any other immediate duties, feel free to join in."

While the young woman took upon herself to explain the meaning of many storerooms to Nal, Pele used the opportunity to look over the notes the receptionist had made and which had luckily escaped being drowned by the water from the toppled vase. Finding that there was not overly much of interest there, she turned back to the training.

"See, what Matilda said is quite so; the bigger the number of possible patients, the more provisions of all sorts we need here, including bandages," she added, and then returned to the aspect of using the said bandages: "If only that was so easy as simply tying something around the wound. Too tight and it will cut off the blood flow and you might lose a limb; not tight enough - the bleeding won't step and you might bleed to death. Use some unclean rag and you might get an infection..."

She then set off for the door leading to the hallway - and the storerooms, expecting the younger folk to follow suit. "Come on then, both of you. Let's see whether storerooms are really worth the name attached."
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Unalmis Raxëlilta – reporting for Training
Reception >>>>> Storerooms, with Matilda Hawthorn and Pele Alarion
@Nessa Saelind @Pele Alarion

Forward thinking had never been that much of a priority for Unalmis so the concept of such a sizeable supply set aside, in case of need, was rather beyond his expectations. He had anticipated a store room, naturally, but multiple storerooms ? The greater miracle was that he had not come across any of these, given their number/size, during his previous hectic exploration of the premises ! Realistically though, as a rather amused Matilda began to extoll the virtues of holding such a wealth of goods, the pieces did slowly start to descend into their assigned slots of his mind.

War, almost constant wars as far back as his history teachers had managed to impress upon him, and then there was the plague of course .. that no doubt would have left it’s fatal fingerprint on city planning. The city was forged of stone, not like the wild world. It could not rely upon nature providing for it, when huge volumes of people were all holed up in one place. The market he knew depended on goods being imported, in order to provide its service. So it worked right that health and medicine had similar concerns.

That does make a lot of sense,” he conceded, respectfully. “And as you say we have a wealth of weaponry; the armoury is large enough to house a smaller city inside it ! But often we are counselled, as a Ranger, to be aware of what we can bear ourselves as burden. We train for ages to grow strong enough to carry what we need, but we can not carry a whole armoury around. That comes to use more when the city is besieged, such as a healing house does I suppose. When we are out on duty though, we have no access to quite so many assets and must be able to adapt. You are based here,” he shrugged. “But if I’m come here training to learn how to administer healing skills whilst out in the field, I fear that your multiple store rooms will now always concern me that I don’t have what I need at hand. Out there.

What Pele had proposed of their next act was doing battle in his mind, with what that mind now conjured from Matilda's descriptions. “How do you ever construct a ‘basic kit’ out of so much possibilities ?” he wondered. “When I’ve been out in the forest, we made a point of learning what we could use from what was around, specifically so we didn’t have to carry too much.

On their way to find out, the Master Healer added her own explanations, as to the greater art of applying bandages. A skill which, by the sounds of things, did sound entirely more complicated than he had assumed. “So if the bandages have to be clean, they are probably definitely something that is needed for this basic kit then,” he suspected, only half consciously gathering hints before he was asked to put such a thing together. “There have got to be signs .. err, ‘symptoms’ though, that would show that a bandage was too tight, or loose ?” he hoped. “I mean, if the patient is unconscious they can’t tell you.” Hopefully there must be some indication before the patient’s death, to indicate if he had not done his bandaging correctly ! That would be a hard lesson to learn from else.
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Master Healer Pele with Matilda and Unalmis @Nessa Saelind , @Ercassie
Storerooms


It pleased Pele to see that Unalmis was beginning to understand the purpose of having several storerooms and it showed in a smile that reflected in her blue eyes. She threw open the door to one of the storerooms and marched in, immediately taking a look around for what might be used in training.

"Well... The principles for choosing basic kit from lots of healing supplies are similar to choosing your equipment from armoury," she explained, playing off of the thought Nal already had going. "How would you then know what to take from the armoury so that you'd be effective on whatever mission you were heading out to fulfil? You wouldn't take a whole lot of horse tack if you were not riding but walking, right?"

Spotting a couple of baskets with unsorted supplies, Pele snatched one of the baskets and emptied it on the table. While she supposed that even the small hill of bandage rolls, herbs and small jars and vials might look intimidating, and yet it was better than being faced with several storerooms to choose from when having no proper clue as to what had to be selected.

"The bandages are important," she hastened to support Nal's thoughts. "Knowing how to stop the bleeding is the very least you should know. If the bandage is too tight, you will cut off blood supply; if you then press on a fingernail, toe or such of the bandaged limb, you'd see that it doesn't regain the healthy colour very quickly. Besides, if you can push your fingertip under the bandage, it should be just right."

Hands on her hips, Pele looked from the laden table to Matilda, a mischievous grin on her lips, and then back to Nal. "I wonder if this is enough to select the necessary items, or if I should empty another basket, what do you think, Matilda?" she asked, wondering to herself how much detail she should provide to Nal in terms of healing intricacies since he might forget much of it either way if not applied often enough.
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New Soul
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TR ANNOUNCEMENT


An RP thread is a living organism; it lives and breaths, grows and evolves and adapts to suit the needs of the people who create stories and post them. It is hard to predict in which direction a thread will go and grow, so at times the Threadrunner might discover they need to make adjustments (large or small) to the guidelines they posted in the OP.

This is another such case. A discussion regarding colour codes for the various locations in the Houses of Healing (that took place in the OOC thread) prompted me to ask for feedback regarding colour coding locations and readability. The majority was in favour of removing the colour coding for the locations, so from today, 26.09.2021. (September 26th 2021) the thread guidelines regarding colour will be changed as follows:


Old location guidelines

Locations (please post in the colour indicated for each location)

Reception (black - no colour code necessary)
Treatment rooms (dark blue - #0000A0)
Study (brown - #804040)
Recovery rooms (indigo - #4B0082)
Garden (green - #008000)
Healer quarters: apothecary, administrative building, kitchen, storage etc. (dark grey - #504A4B)


New location guidelines

Locations: (No colour coding necessary, please post your location at the top of your post and bold it)
  • Reception
  • Treatment rooms
  • Study
  • Recovery rooms
  • Garden
  • Healer quarters: apothecary, administrative building, kitchen, storage etc.


These changes (amendments and additions) come into effect from 27.09.2021. (September 27th 2021). Everything posted before this announcement is not considered (nor will it ever be considered) a breach of thread guidelines.
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
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Study, Quintus de Scardena with Pele (@The Alarion )

Quintus made himself as comfortable as he could in the chair he was sitting on, continuing to observe Pele as she refilled her mug with tea. He nodded in agreement at her comment regarding healers; they were prone to disregarding the signals their bodies sent them as they pushed themselves to the limit, taking risks to help others… He smiled wryly as he looked down at his empty mug and the plate that held a slightly lesser amount of pepper-honey biscuits. He contemplated on the crockery on the table, the story it could tell of the people who were using it at this moment. Of those that were overworked and those that overworked themselves…

“Is there a reason for me to be concerned about your health that I should ask you questions?” the Master Healer’s question made him look up at her. “I certainly hope not!”

He laughed good-naturedly at her comment as he reached over to refill his mug. “You can relax, Pele. I am in good health,” he reassured her. “Of course, if you choose to ignore the aches that come with the privilege of old age,” he finished as the corners of his lips curled into a small smile. He took the mug of tea in his hands and sipped, the liquid was slightly cooler but still warm enough to his liking. Quintus hummed in agreement when Pele mentioned that leisurely talk and relaxation would be welcome.

“By the way…” Pele spoke after a few moments of silence and Quintus tilted his head slightly, encouraging her to continue. “Could you recommend some highly effective sleep-inducing aid?”
“A highly effective sleep-inducing aid…” he repeated thoughtfully and took another sip of tea. The mug hid a wry smile as he contemplated the nature of this question. It wasn’t the subtlest of segues he heard in his long career, however, he found the question intriguing. “The effectiveness of the remedy will, naturally, depend on the dose,” he said as he lowered the mug with tea. “The patient and the underlying root of the problem,” he said stressing the last part. “Perhaps, before I recite all the traditional sleeping aids like a novice apothecary,” he said with an amused smile. “You might be so kind to tell me, Master Healer, why is it that you need a highly effective sleep-inducing aid?”



~*~




Administrative building, office of the Senior Administrator – Quintus de Scardena with Amethyst “Amy” Nerennia ( @Purrmonster of Doom )
November of 3018 T.A.

Sitting in the armchair opposite his apprentice Quintus observed the young woman’s reactions with interest. His apprentice seemed flummoxed by his suggestion, or perhaps it was his behaviour that perplexed her. She gazed at the teacup like she was seeing this particular piece of pottery for the first time before picking it up. Amy stared at the sweet-smelling coloured liquid like it held the answers to all her problems. The senior administrator did not believe that tasseomancy was the solution to Amy’s problems, however, there was power in everyday rituals. Their familiarity and the repetitiveness of motion helped calm and soothe, making it easier to marshal ones’ thoughts.

Still, by her movements (the fluttering of her eyelids and the sudden rapid move of her free hand that went to her eyes to wipe away the tears that did not fall, a slight frown forming between her eyebrows…) Quintus could see that she thought his suggestion was foolish. Such was the difference between youth and old age, for youth was frequently impatient, ever in flux, ever in movement… While old age tended to be patient, cautious, as meandering as was meditative… Unlike hers, his face betrayed nothing of his musings as he reached for his cup of tea. Quintus sipped the warm aromatic liquid unhurriedly, enjoying the complex flavours and taste of tea, finding comfort and calm. There was quiet joy and warmth in this ritual and as he watched Amy drinking her tea and gathering her thoughts he hoped that his apprentice would find some comfort in this.

For a while, the two of them sat in their armchairs drinking tea. Once again Quintus refrained from speaking, knowing that Amy needed time to say what she wished to say in the way she wanted to say it. After a while she spoke; slowly and hesitantly at first, she started talking of her mother’s passing, her grief and anguish palpable. Quintus sat in the armchair unmoving, holding his teacup in his hands. He did not interrupt her for he knew there was more that she needed to say. Soon annoyance joined anguish and grief while she spoke of her younger sister and the choices she made.

Quintus listened to the outpouring of grief and frustration, without interruption or comment, knowing that his young apprentice was not done. He could see that she was struggling, not only to find the words she needed and the way to shape those words into a meaningful whole but also with the emotions that were overwhelming her. Her voice shook, but in the end, she managed.

“I’m… I’m leaving, because I-” her voice broke, but she was determined to speak. To see this through. “I have to find my fiancee,” she said with a sniffle as she looked down into her teacup.

The room grew quiet again, save for the crackling of the fire and the occasional silent sob from Amy. For several heartbeats Quintus sat in his armchair, not moving, holding the cup of tea in his hands. When he finally moved it was deliberately slow and careful. He gently set the cup down on the table, careful not to make noise.

“Amy,” he called her name softly and waited until she lifted her head and looked at him. “I am so very sorry for your loss,” he said looking at her, his storm grey eyes filled with concern for the young woman in front of him. “I will not insult you by speaking meaningless platitudes,” he said after a while, choosing his words with care. “Nor will I waste our time by trying to change your mind, for I see that you are set on this course… However, as your mentor and more importantly as a person who cares for you, I would like you to tell me what happened. What cause do you have to think that your fiance is missing?”
She/her.
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant
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Unalmis Raxëlilta – Basic Training
Storerooms, with Pele Alarion and Matilda Hawthorn
@The Alarion @Nessa Saelind

True to his utter astoundment, Unalmis stood rather slackjawed as Pele threw open a storeroom door. The importance of supplies they had so far only touched upon in conversation, but already he viewed the room’s hoard with new eyes, each item holding the potential to save a life, as much as an armoury held opportunities to end life. It might have been this sudden reverence which kept him from following the Master Healer into the room proper. Rather he loitered in the entrance, serving as a rather capable doorstop, and hoped to rediscover his tongue.
His instructor encouraged this by demonstrating that she possessed both a medical and military mind. Translating a medical dilemma into a military case study, Pele earned an audible grunt of agreement from her student. Which was not to say that there would not also be questions ..

Thing is, you can plan to set out on horseback, or you can plan to even venture to a plain, or desert, or ship,” the young man mused. “But no one ever plans to have an injury and if they do, they can’t know in advance what kind it would be.

As Pele selected a basket, Unalmis was catching up on her advice of finger nails, as a means of checking for blood supply. Intrigued, he raised his right hand, and pressed momentarily on the nail with a left finger, to test the theory. A small white blast of non-colour fed out from the impact at the nailbeds centre, fanning across the expanse, until it had all warmed back to a more pink colour seconds later. He had never associated fingernails with circulation before, never really considered them much more than domestic claws ! But perhaps every single part of the body had some purpose he was just simply unaware of yet. All in all, it was an interesting experiment. He was about to ask what happened if bandaging a head, or an abdomen ? Since those don’t have fingernails attached to serve up signals… but Pele suggested using his own finger nails then, to slip under the bandage in order to check it is tight/not too tight enough. So he swallowed the query, and wondered if he’d see an example of this sort of wider test, without risking anybody’s actual life of course !

So, bandages,” he surmised, pleased to have broke the learning down into bite sizes. “I’m fair sure that I could fill at least five baskets with only one of each of the different types or size of bandage I can see here. But I wouldn’t take out every type of sword available from the armoury at once. If bandages are an important aide for healers in the field, what other sorts of injuries do you commonly face, besides bleeding ?

He paused to recollect what sorts in injuries had occurred on a recent Ranger mission.

What if someone has stopped breathing from nearly drowning in the river ? What if they are poisoned from errm .. eating the wrong berries ? What if they have broken a bone from falling out of a tree ? Bandages won’t solve any of that, I shouldn’t think !

But what would then ? Curiously he began to scan the shelves, looking for potential candidates. Never thinking that, stood as he was, he might be obstructing Matilda from entering the room behind him.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

High Warden of Tower
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Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Pele with Quintus de Scardena
Study

@Nessa Saelind

"I'm afraid I haven't discovered the elixir of youth just yet," Pele said, as she shook her head disapprovingly while a small smile lingered on her face. "Else the old age with all its aches would be no problem at all." And yet it was great to know that the elderly man was doing as well as he looked - sitting there in relative peace and simply enjoying tea and biscuits.

On the other hand, Pele did not feel too comfortable, especially as she now had put herself in a place of vulnerability by asking a single question. Perhaps she should have just kept quiet, but now it was too late to take the words back, and she knew that Quintus would see right through any excuses she might put together for asking.

"Ah, I could list all of the commonly know remedies myself," she said, and waved her hand with a cookie in it to chase away her own doubts as if those were annoying flies. She nibbled on the treat for a while, trying to decide whether she could trust Quintus with the reasons for the question that had turned the flow of conversation in a different direction.

Washing down the sweet morsel with a mouthful of tea, Pele than attempted to explain herself: "I need that sleeping aid to make sure I don't fall asleep with a sword in my hand and cut off my own head by accident... It has been a couple years after I escaped from being captured by enemies," she glanced at Quintus to see his reaction, not knowing how much he knew of her past - or at least of the time she had been gone without a word. "But I still find it hard to have a refreshing sleep at night, even though I've tried most of the remedies in reasonable doses. I've learned to function somehow, but it is not a long-term solution."

It had occurred to her that perhaps she should deal with this issue by taking a different approach, from a different angle, but then again it would certainly help to find something to ensure proper sleep. While she did sleep better than some time ago, she was aware that it was still not nearly satisfactory.

"Perhaps there's something you can recommend that I can't think of..." she added, unwillingly admitting that there was something that she did not quite know how to handle, no matter how much she tried to impress on everyone, herself including, that she knew nearly everything and could deal with everything, herself.

"I know a purring cat does help," she laughed softly to make the atmosphere lighter. "But I don't have one in the barracks, though there is a mischievous dog in there somewhere."
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Pele with Matilda and Unalmis
Storerooms

@Ercassie , @Nessa Saelind

Arms crossed and a small grin on her lips, Pele stood by the table which she had just covered with various supplies and looked at Unalmis, as he suddenly let fly many a question just like arrows from a bow of a masterful archer.

"Wait, wait!" she exclaimed, laughing and nodded towards the table meaningfully. "Perhaps you could come in first, Unalmis, else I suspect that Matilda might not have magical skills to enter right through you. And also, that is a lot of questions about very many areas."

For a few moments Pele thought on what all Nal had said and asked, thinking of what and how she should answer, what would be most important to teach the young man about the healing skills.

"I like how eager you are to learn," she eventually said, as she rolled up an unraveled bandage. "But everything takes time. You wouldn't expect a recruit to know right away how to use all of the weapons, nor would you expect an experienced Ranger to be an expert in all possible weapons, yes? I'm afraid basic training might not answer all your questions - else you'd have to become a healer." The grin remained on Pele's face, as she tilted her head and looked at Nal to see what he'd say to such an option.

"First things first, when you see someone suffering, remove the direct source of danger: get that drowning guy out of the water; remove the poisonous berries; make sure the one with the broken bone doesn't move - and get a healer or send someone to fetch one," Pele instructed, counting off the most basic things to do. However, some of these might be good to be looked at in more depth.

"And I should say that you probably wouldn't happy to carry five baskets of bandages with you," she laughed, "Two or three would suffice. And a few other things..." She turned back to the table to consider the next item that might be good to discuss.
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Ms. Irma and Naela

Myths were made from the slow ominous build-ups of volcanos. Sure some just exploded suddenly, which Ms. Irma was quite notorious for as well, however it was the slow rumbling anger that would then erupt like a cataclysm that everyone tried to avoid. That was everyone but this nurse who seemed unphased by the darkening of Ms. Irma's complexion. Already an unhealthy purple, mostly seen on people who were choking, it went even darker. Her squinty hate filled eyes narrowed to mere slits and even so they managed to send daggers at everyone in the room.

Naela had stopped in the doorway, having rushed towards the reception when she heard the commotion to see if there was anything she could do to help. Not that she could do all that much having only been here a week, but still it was also an opportunity to learn. She regretted that thought now, jaw dropping as she watched the deadly standoff between the two women. Her grandmother Shaela, who had worked most of her life here in the Houses of Healing was a force of her own to reckon with, however this was unsurpassed. The room itself felt thick with the unspoken threats and ill feelings, making Naela's small hairs on the back of her neck crawl.

As a young woman stepped forward, one Naela had missed behind the guard, she inadvertently drew in a sharp breath and held it. Both horrified for the woman and curious to see what would happen, she shifted nervously in the doorway, wondering for a second if she should take cover. The injured woman had looked as if she was going to literally explode, her pinched face so dark red that Naela had been wondering if the loud woman was going to have a heart attack. It seemed like everyone in the room was holding their breaths, the quiet before the storm as the younger woman spoke softly. Either the younger woman was immensely brave, or she had just signed her own death warrant.

Feeling her stomach roil with nerves, Naela's eyes darted back towards what could only be Ms. Irma, her reputation making that an easy guess. It even felt as if her heart stood still as she waited to see how the obnoxious woman would react to what the younger woman had said. 'Wasn't that the woman from the library?' she managed to muse to herself just as the response came.

The anger and resentment of her mistreatment had reached epic proportions, to the point of no return. She saw red, redder than red. She wanted justice, retribution, punishment for those that had inappropriately mishandled her and she wanted this rude woman fired. All of this was threatning to spill out in a tirade never before seen, barely stemmed and held back as the young offender dared to step forward to speak to her after what she had done. The sheer gall of it only fueled the flames and she almost had an apoplectic fit just listening to her.

But just as quickly as her face had gone a dark red, it went white so quickly she almost felt faint. "Amputated??" she squeaked out under her breath, her squinty little eyes dropping from the offender to her injured foot. She couldn't loose her foot! How would she work? Get around? She did not want to hobble around on a wooden leg like that veteran. What was his name? Addhor something or other, the one with the overly active and annoyingly cheerful son. Valar above, she could not walk around like that! How embarassing would that be!

The effort it took for her to swallow her pride was surely unprecedented, especially as she did so without choking too much given it was a lot of pride. Still looking deathly pale and with hands shaking as she lifted one to brush back a stray lock that had worked it's way out of her tight bun, she looked away from the young offender and to the healer, swallowing the rage that wanted to build again and managed to quietly say between clenched teeth.

"I will be quiet, please see to my foot."

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Nurse Maeth Dringolben
Reception with Ms Irma, Falaneth, Malanor, and Naela


The shade of Irma’s face would have been cause for concern, were it anyone else. In fact, as a nurse, Maeth wondered if the woman might burst something, a vein or artery perhaps, or her lungs. Was she holding her breath? She’d seen children do such things.. throwing tantrums..holding their breath til they’re blue in the face… thank goodness her own children never pulled a stunt like that. Of course, they’d known from a young age that tantrums were not acceptable, and if any of her children had tried anything like holding their breath to try and get their way, they would have had a good strong smack on the bottom to help them resume breathing.

The nurse, for her part, was almost holding her breath as the moment of silence stretched on, a silent battle of wills being waged between her and Irma. At least it was a silent one. That was the goal, right? To restore the hushed atmosphere of the Houses of Healing. She wasn’t even aware of Naela arriving. When the timid young woman spoke her piece, Maeth could have smiled at the cleverness she had employed. It was, honestly, just like something her twins would have thought up, and she felt a pang of sorrow tug at her heart. She missed them, and wished Cali would come back to see her occasionally, at least. But she pushed that thought from her mind in order to deal with this moment.

“Oh yes, that’s quite right, amputation happens far more often than one would think,” She agreed with the young woman, nodding in a very matter-of-fact manner. If a little white lie is what it took to keep this beast silenced, then she wasn’t about to ruin a good thing. And then, with tremendous relief, came the longed-for words.

“I will be quiet, please see to my foot.”

Maeth could have cheered for joy upon hearing these words. She had won this round, at least. It took an iron will to keep her face from reflecting her inner feelings of celebration. Being accustomed to having to put on a mask to hide her pain and sympathy for the wounded she tended to, Maeth managed this feat with the same strength of will. She merely gave a nod in reply to Irma. “Thank you, that is all we ask.” She told her quietly. “I’ll fetch a hea-”

She stopped short as she turned and saw that a healer had already come. “Ah, good.. a healer is here.” She hoped very much that she would not be in any trouble over what had occurred, especially as she wasn’t sure just how much the young healer had witnessed, but she also knew that she had done nothing wrong, despite Irma’s claims. “This..patient has injured her ankle, possibly broken, and would like to be treated immediately.” She told Naela. She could not bring herself to call that woman a ‘lady’, as that was far from accurate. She had plenty of memories about this Irma woman and she did NOT like her, not one bit. But as a nurse, she couldn’t let her personal feelings get in the way of tending to a patient… “Will you need me to assist, or shall I return to my other duties?” She inquired of the healer, hoping very much for the latter. She still had yet to discover whether the guard and the young lady were merely bringing Irma here, or if either of them were injured, after all.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Unalmis Raxëlilta – Basic Training
Storerooms, with MasterHealer Pele Alarion, and Matilda Hawthorn
@Pele Alarion @Nessa Saelind


Taking even the smallest steps into the Store room invited the tendency to glance up at the high shelves which were stocked in every direction, as though a forest bearing down and blocking out all else with an unbelievable amount of wisdom in it’s metaphorical branches. There was simply too much to see all at once and, even turning where he stood, did little to see all the amazement absorbed. Glancing up and around him, Unalmis was glad he had never found his way into this chamber as he’d dashed through the houses of healing, throwing doors wide, ..why, he might never have found his way out of here again !

Oh but there is no harm in scanning the index, to get an idea of what is to come ..” he refused to be hushed by common sense. It had never yet quelled his enthusiasm, although sometimes it had threatened to smother his proper understanding. As things were, the young Ranger stood somewhere between intrigued and overwhelmed.

Is this the first slippery stage of being brainwashed into becoming a healer ?” he could not help but laugh at Pele’s suggestion. “I dare say I could do quite well at keeping folks alive. The very threat of my being the one to mend them should they get hurt ? Why you’d have such a safety-minded group that never dared take any risks at all, for fear of how I’d think to treat them !


Granted it was perhaps not the most compelling answer he could, or should, have given. Still it was a fair way more polite than the horrified ‘Oh hey no ! I’ve spent far enough time in this place before to ever want to commit to a career here ..’ that his mind had immediately gone to.

But it’s important to make sure not to put yourself in danger of drowning, in order to save somebody else,Nal recited, what sounded extremely rehearsed as far as a lecture he’d heard more than once before. It somehow seemed important to try and win back some small sense that he was behaving though, so he persevered with rattling off answers to equal the number of so many questions. “And you might want to hang on to at least one of those poisoned berries, to make sure you know which toxin has been ingested. Because they all have different symptoms and different remedies. But I think they might not take it well if I was supposed to know about healing, and I still shouted out for someone else to come tend the broken bone instead of me. How do you know if you are the person to step up, or to get out of the way and let somebody better qualified take over ? I might always think there is somebody better than me to help folks, that I’d never dare try it for real.

Rather downcast by this surprisingly honest admission he watched Pele glance at the table for a whole minute in silence, looking instead rather intently for some clue of what she might bring out to show him next. It seemed likely that she might want to keep some order to their lesson rather than just react to him shouting out questions and random thoughts that he could not keep quiet.

Two or three bandages, or two or three baskets of bandages do you mean ?” he enquired, despite his best intentions, and without spite. Truthfully, he’d been so busy rushing all ahead of himself, that he hadn’t been listening properly.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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Falaneth with Malanor, Ms Irma, Nurse Maeth and Naela
Reception


The nerve it took to even think, much less speak aloud, the twisted threat to the insufferable Ms Irma sapped the last wisps of energy and strength the young woman had. The drum of her heart beat fierce in her chest as she spoke the final word aloud -- “amputated”-- and then slowed, flagging and fading as the tension so tightly wound around them all finally seemed to snap and ease with the woman’s submission to treatment.

In fact, she couldn’t believe she’d done it. It must have been someone else, surely not her. The word sounded slow and leaden to her ears, in a voice so far from her own. But it had been her. Her first thought was that she had made a grave mistake. Perhaps Ms Irma would even explode right then and there, sent into a fury despite her “broken” ankle, and attack Falaneth head-on. She tensed, bracing herself for impact and clenched her fists around her grocery bag, hanging on for dear life as if potatoes and carrots might somehow bear the brunt of it as they had broken her fall in the market.

The hailstorm of curse words and raining fists never came. The ear-stinging screams and more outrageous lies and accusations never came and what happened next was so unexpected, Falaneth was certain she had imagined it. Despite the sudden mollified manner in which the woman spoke, requesting assistance, Falaneth was somehow certain she had just made herself an enemy who would never, ever forget the unfortunate events of this day.

It was all too much for the quiet library clerk, this sudden shift from the confrontation to whatever amenable state they had reached. The day's drama on top of the exhaustion and daily battle she underwent just to fight against the overwhelming grief that wracked her heart, mind and spirit all wrapped around her like a too-tight blanket, stealing the breath from her chest. The injury to her wrist was now the least of her worries.

She buckled, having locked her knees in the pressure of the moment, and now they would no longer bear her weight, slight though it was. Her face grew pale as paper and her legs trembled and felt impossibly weightless all at once, as she fell, toppling toward the floor while the room darkened in the edges of her vision… The last thought that raced through her mind while still conscious was that she wished desperately, now more than ever to be invisible or shrink into the wall and hide away forever somewhere safe, away from staring eyes and whispering voices, to be well and truly alone.

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Malanor, Naela and Ms. Irma

Sometimes peoples reflexes are appalling. And sometimes they are as if destined to kick in. Malanor, gawking and by all means distracted by the exchange between the four women, found himself catching one of them as she suddenly buckled and flopped towards the cold stone floor. While she had just stepped in front of him, he still marvelled at how his body immediately reacted, his strong arms shooting out to cradle the woman's body while he almost elegantly shifted in a way that caught her and then gracefully and gently lowered her the ground without hurting her further in one fluid motion.

It took him a few moments to even realise what had happened, staring at the unconcious woman, mouth open as if about to reassure everyone in the room that he had not hurt her. Blinking furiously, he started as the healer yelped and ran towards him. "I.. she.. I didn't.." he stuttered, stepping aside so that the young healer could get to the woman on the floor.

Naela's reflexes were nowhere near as good as Malanor's, gawking stupidly as the movement tore her eyes from the horrid Ms Irma, towards the young librarian. Slightly awed by the guards incredibly fast reflexes, she found herself frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch as he lowered the librarian to the floor.

Only then did she finally react, yelping out stupidly like some inexperienced apprentice, which she most certainly still was. Swallowing the humiliation at having so loudly given that away, she sprang forwards and completely ignored Ms Irma as she headed straight for the woman on the floor. "Please.." she said softly to the guard, brushing past him and throwing herself to her knees to check on Falaneth.

"Miss?" Naela said softly, her warm hand moving over the young woman's pale face, gently tapping her cheek. "Lift her feet!" She said a bit louder turning to the guard. He only hesitated briefly, before doing as he was told, lifting the young woman's feet slightly off the ground while wondering what good that would do.

Ms Irma could likely have been a beacon, or a light display at a party, the way her face so abruptly seemed to change colours. It had only been a few moments ago that she had been pale as a ghost and here her face was going dark red once more. A volcano is never truly stilled for good. "Hey! My foot! I can't have it amputated! I need help NOW!" While not exactly yelling, trying her utmost not to raise her voice too much, the tone of her voice was infinitely more venemous than ever before, her hatefilled eyes shredding the fainted attacker to pieces.

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Nurse Maeth Dringolben
Reception with Ms Irma, Falaneth, Malanor, and Naela


No sooner had relief washed over Maeth, at the fact that Irma finally agreed to be quiet, than she was beset with concern once again. The young lady who had so cleverly convinced the monstrous woman to behave had fainted soon after, and Maeth was instantly worried. What was wrong with her? She hadn't realized that there were two patients coming in, but it seemed the young woman was in need of help, possibly more urgently than Irma.

The nurse hurried forward a few steps, but hung back so not to crowd the girl. "Was she injured in any way?" She asked the guard who had caught her. She noticed the telltale scrapes on her palms, recognizing that from when her children were young and used to come home with identical scrapes all the time. "She fell, I suppose... did she hit her head?" She inquired, trying to gain more insight for the healer's sake as to what could be the cause of this sudden fainting.

Irma's impatient demand to be seen to immediately reminded Maeth of the frustrating patient they had promised treatment to, and she held back a sigh. Thankfully, it wasn't quite a yell, and she hoped she would remember to keep it that way. "I'll take her to a room, to await a healer, then return to help you with her." She suggested to Naela quietly. Though she wanted to be very far away from that horrid woman, she was a nurse, and had duties to do, and it would probably be best if Irma was kept separate from the poor young woman who had fainted.

"I'll go and get one of the wheeled chairs for you, Ms Irma." She told her, again putting her patience to a test. It took very little time to get one of the chairs on wheels, and parked it beside where Irma was seated. "Would you like help getting into the chair, or can you manage it on your own?" She inquired, holding it steady so that it wouldn't roll away when the patient began getting into it. It would, in a way, serve her right if the chair rolled out from under her and dumped her on the floor, but that would probably result in more screaming and threats.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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@Nessa Saelind

Amethyst "Amy" Nerennia
November of 3018, T.A. Quintas de Scardena's office

There was a reason why Amy had come to respect, and look up to, her mentor. She was reminded of this as she heard Quintas speak. There were so many things that he could have said, and he spoke to her with as much respect for her, as she held for him. It often seemed that older people expected young people to respect them, without giving the same courtesy. She would have smiled if she hadn't felt so miserably, and on the verge of tears.

Reflecting on his question to her for a moment, she tried to figure out the best way to explain, to make him understand. Most people would probably disregard what she would say, but she felt that he wouldn't, surely. She absently rubbed a non-existent smudge on the side of her cup, her sleep-deprived mind sorting through all of the facts to try and remember all of what she needed to tell for it to make sense to someone who didn't know all the details that she knew. "The day that he asked me to marry him," She began, hesitant. "He was supposed to be off duty for the rest of the day." It was, in a way, a little painful to relive these details. "A few moments after we became engaged, he received a message from... a superior, the messenger said." She frowned, taking a deep breath. "The message said that Reilly had been reassigned, to one of the beacons."

She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the look of dismay on Reilly's face when he received these orders, and both of their disappointment that their time together was being cut short.. as well as being forced to be apart for so long. "He had to leave right away," She went on with a sigh. "He promised he'd be back as soon as he could.. that he'd try to come visit if he had a chance.. I'm sure I've told you about the beacon assignment, or I've told someone." She couldn't remember who she had told, but that was as far as she had told anyone. "But he hasn't come back." She said quietly. "I waited months, never heard a word from him. My letters went unanswered.. I thought perhaps the mail wasn't getting to him. So, I asked one of his friends if he might be able to ride out that way sometime when he had a few days' leave. He went... and said that Reilly was not there."

She sipped her tea, trying to force herself to stay calm, and rationally explain her thoughts, though it was a little hard. She paused though, fearing her voice would start to tremble. A few slow breaths later, she tried to resume. "I kept..hoping for some sort of word. His two friends.. they're both guards as well.. they kept trying to find out what they could for me, but.. they couldn't find out much." She frowned and looked down, sniffling. "Between the three of us, we've done a bit of investigating... I've been rather hindered by my studies here, but, well.. it seems that none of Reilly's superiors actually remember sending him out to the beacons, and the one who supposedly sent him says that he didn't.. they think he deserted, but I know him, he wouldn't do that." She shook her head. "He worked so hard to be the best, he.. he just wouldn't leave, and besides, I was there when he got the orders.." Shaking her head, she paused to collect her thoughts again.

"They said he never got to the beacons, and there was an investigation about it, but... that was a while back. They ultimately came to the conclusion that he either ran off as a deserter, or.." She paused, taking a breath to steady herself. "I have to know. Everyone else may have given up on him, but I can't. I just know that he wouldn't sit idly, if I were the one who was missing. And.. well.." She paused. "With my mother gone.. there's nothing to hold me here, anymore. I... I want to return someday, and finish my training here. With Reilly, hopefully, safe and sound... but I just.." She sighed, looking down. "I can't sleep. I can't focus. Not knowing... it's..killing me." She stared down at her cup, frowning as tears began filling her eyes again.
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Pele instruction Unalmis @Ercassie
Storerooms


Her arms crossed, Pele tilted her head to look at Unalmis, as she listened to his continuous flood of words, while she tried to decide how best to channel his attention to something more focussed instead of so many different things. She supposed that he would not learn and remember much if she only tried to keep up with all the directions he headed off into at once.

"And would it even be so bad to have people mind their safety, even if it were out of fear from what you would do to them? Or..." her blue eyes danced with laughter. "Perhaps this ability of yours could be used at the dungeons to interrogate some mischief makers. And yet - I hope that you will learn at least some things to assist someone or save their life at need."

The healer could only wonder at the vastness of Nal's absent-mindedness and distraction, and her eyebrows shot up when he asked if he should take two to three bandages or baskets of bandages. "If you are willing to carry three basketloads of bandages in addition to all the military kit, you are certainly welcome to do it, though I'm sure your commanders would rather use a horse and cart for that quantity instead of you carrying it on your back."

Her hand reached out to pick three bandages from the various things scattered across the table, and she put these back in a basket. "Suppose this is your first-aid kit," she said. "Bandages." She looked at the various items available, thinking over the questions Nal still insisted on asking. Choosing a jar, she opened the lid and showed the contents to Unalmis; a fine black powder was inside. "Charcoal. Might help with food poisoning, even in the case of inedible berries. Most plants are not deadly when eaten in small amounts, and then charcoal can help. And lots of water to drink and wash out the stomach. You can taste it if you want," she nodded towards the powdered charcoal. "It doesn't have any particular taste, just... slightly crunchy and dry. And even if you don't have this, you can grab some from a campfire if there is one. Obviously not burning hot coals."

"Well, apparently you already know what to evaluate if you see someone drowning, Unalmis," she then addressed the other question. "It is better to use rope or a piece of wood, something that floats and that the person can hold on to. That way they would not drag you under water in desperation to hold on to you."

Finding that Matilda was not adding her own advice, Pele realised that she must have left to attend to some other pressing issue and supposed that she'd return when possible again, so she turned her attention back to Nal. "You know, no one would expect you to do advanced healer things - if you can stop the bleeding, prevent any further immediate danger and perhaps even make the injured as comfortable as possible until a healer can attend - it would be a lot."
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Falaneth with Malanor, Ms Irma, Nurse Maeth and Naela
Reception


Awareness came upon her slowly, a fuzzy haze filling in the edges of her vision as the feeling crept back into her limbs starting at her fingers and toes and moving ever inward. Her heart beat with the fragility of a butterfly’s wings, soft and delicate, easily trampled and torn. Her dark lashes fluttered open once, twice, then at last finding their way and unveiling blue eyes. She looked upon the face of a stranger.

Though Naela’s expression bore no sign of threat nor ill-will, Falaneth still longed to shrink further and further away. Lying on the cold, hard floor, there was nowhere to go and her feet were hampered by…something. She wiggled them slightly, unable to tell yet that the guard was holding them up in order to help her regain consciousness. Indistinguishable voices filled the blanket of silence that wrapped around her until she woke. It was as if they spoke from a great distance, or perhaps in some tongue she did not understand, but the words did not quite land in her ears as they were meant to.

Falaneth pushed herself up to sit, groaning as the pressure on her wrist doubled the pain burgeoning there. She rubbed it with her other hand and blinked slowly at the guard elevating her feet. Recollection of the day’s events circled vaguely in her mind and then finally coiled together, springing her back into the present. The grocer, Ms Irma, her fall, the outburst.

Cringing, her shoulders folded inward and her gaze roved to her feet and remained there. She could not bear to look at the angry woman again, whom she had told such a twisted lie to. She could not bear to look at Malanor again, with his respectful uniform and his helping hands. She could not bear to look at the face of the strange healer or the Nurse, who would surely give her looks of flagrant judgment and pity. No. It was safe only to look at her feet.

“Please…” she mumbled to anyone who would listen. “Please get me out of here. Please, I want to go home.”

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Ann Kalagon with Pele Alarion
Healer quarters: storage

Life on the road had not been soft on the former Hyandaner’s garments. Her best tunic and trousers from Bree had been a bright mossy green when new; sunshine and wear had faded both to more of a lichen green. Her leather gauntlets, belt and boots were a darker shade of green. The black leather sheath of her ancient sword was richly tooled with runes of protection—some of which were visible where it hung from her belt. And she looked tired, just the way she slumped back in her seat and stretched her legs, lack of sleep and some hard days.

Ann’s other saddle bag, now open, smelled of the Misty Mountains herbs, mint and athelas, showed the bulges of what might be jars, other bundles were visible from the opening next to her knees. Ann stirred the honey into her tea and sipped a little.

Pele had been saying that the Houses of Healing "do have a bit of space for healers to stay in, and I figure you could gain access to a room, if you aimed to convince the folk in charge of the premises and presented a strong proof that you want to work here and for that purpose need a view of the gardens all day long. Perhaps you could use my room, if not, as I mostly use the barracks either way."

Ann paused for a bite of the cheese, taking a moment to think. "Really? You are sleeping in the Barracks? That would be very kind of you; yes but if I could use it for just a couple of nights, long enough to arrange something else.

"And I will think about what you have suggested about working here,
” she said. “I suppose I could offer my services with gathering medicinals. If it be that some of the healers have specific places to go for what they use, I would be willing to do that. Let me sleep on this idea; I am too tired from the journey to think about that."

Ann then pulled a large wrapped jar from within the remaining saddle bag. While delving the second stuffed bag and pulling out the jar, she said, "What’s next, let me see. Of course, I wound up in Bree, in the north country of Arnor, on the main road. I like Bree; it’s a nice rustic town with some good craftspeople. Big people and halflings and traveling dwarves—it’s a good mix."

Handing the jar to Pele, she continued, "This is actually from Bree. This is a medicinal salve the Breelanders make from their Secret Blend. I think it has ginger in it, honey, maybe horseradish? Some local herbs for the sweeter smell. They put it on a strained muscle and wrap the limb with a scarf to hold in the heat."

She reached in and pulled two more bundles of athelas and laid them on the table. These herbs were slightly darker in color than the other bundles of athelas. Ann said, "Rangers I met in Bree told me this strain of athelas is the older one; they say it is Arnor’s heritage strain.

"So, yes, I met a couple of Rangers in Bree, and later traveled with them routing out some bandits. It would have made a better story if things had not all happened much too quickly.

"And almost all of this treasure horde, which I deliver to you, I left at the local inn for a season while I was in the wild with the Rangers. The innkeeper was very friendly and helpful, as was a local girl, a daughter of one of the Rangers.

"So there are just a few more things which I was able to gather afterward, while traveling back south to Gondor from the Breeland.
"

She smiled, then frowned and reached for her tea and ate more of the yellow cheese she had snagged. Those stories would take more time to tell. She was thinking to tell of the journey south across Hollin and on, while unpacking the rest of her herbal and medicinal supplies for Pele.


🧚
fka Ann Kalagon, Hyandaner

Mae Govannen, my friends!

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Naela, Malanor and Ms Irma

"Uh..do I.. what.." Malanor blubbered flustered as the young woman began to sit up while he was still holding her feet. Was he to keep them up? Lower them so she could sit? Why was he still here? He hated being here, the smells here always made him jittery. Naela did not respond, merely nodded with her head in the direction of down, allowing him to let the woman's feet go with a sigh of relief.

"Easy there, now. Falaneth, that is you name, right?" Naela deliberately kept her voice low enough that Ms Irma would not hear, not that the horrible woman would have, she was too busy barking commands to Maeth to hurry. Maeth, being the saint she was seemed completely unfazed by the vitriol that followed her out the door as she went to get a wheelchair. Bless that woman.

"We will get you home just as quickly as we can, ok. But please, save my career and let me check that wrist you are cradling, ok? Miss- uh Pele would have my head if I didn't make sure you were ok before leaving. I promise to be quick, ok?" Naela followed up with a soft smile, but also with a quick look towards Malanor. "Please, could you carry Miss Falaneth to a room?

The look Naela gave him took him by surprise, he could see that there was not going to be any arguing over her request. Not that he wanted to. If it would get him out of the vicinity of Ms. Irma, all the better. "Of course, Miss." He said as he shifted to Falaneth's side and without even asking permission from her first he scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and made his way after Naela who had already jumped to her feet and had begun to head down one of the corridors. "You don't question a healer.." he said with an apologetic smile to Falaneth as he headed into a nearby room, Naela closing the door behind them and shutting out the sound of the vile woman who was very noisily getting into the wheelchair by herself.

"Thank you, we can handle it from here. I am sure you can find Miss Falaneth later at the library if you need any uh statements.." Naela gave him a knowing look and held the door for him, barely able to hide the grin as he gave Falaneth a small awkward bow after setting her on the examination table and then high-tailed it out. As soon as he had made it out, she shut the door once more, revelling in the immediate silence.

"Man that woman has some lungs on her.." Naela chuckled softly as she made it over to Falaneth. "Please.. can I have a look?" She said as she reached out to take Falaneth's her hand.

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@Winddancer
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Nurse Maeth Dringolben
Taking Ms Irma to an examination room


Holding the wheelchair steady whilst Irma struggled to shift her overweight self into it, Maeth struggled to keep her ears closed to the woman's constant, though thankfully quieter, complaints. Furthermore, she had to keep reminding herself why it was a bad idea to let go of it, or even give it a little push, to send her sprawling on the floor. That was childish behavior, and she was a mature adult who was beyond such things. Yes, her boys would have done something like that, she had little doubt, and the thought brought a faint smile to her face. She would have scolded them fiercely for such a thing, of course, though she might have gone off in secret the first moment she got, to laugh about it.

Once Irma had finally situated herself into the chair, Maeth put on a forced smile. "All ready? Good, I'll get you off to a room immediately. And once you're there, a healer can see to your foot and get you all fixed up." She held back an exasperated sigh at the thought of spending one more moment with the woman, no matter how much quieter her griping had become. Once they had left the reception, she thought swiftly on the best place to take her. The dead marshes weren't an option, unfortunately, but she did take her to the furthest room from where everyone else was. "There. Now, I'll just run and get a healer for you and they'll fix you up. It's lucky for you, you got here soon enough that there shouldn't be too much danger of having to amputate," She was hard-pressed not to snicker or roll her eyes, there. Having said that, she offered a tight smile before hurrying from the room before the beast could stop her, and set off in search of the first available healer she could talk into going in there to face the dragon...

(turning this over to any healer who dares to get involved, now :rofl: )

🧚
"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

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Pele with Ann @Ankala Teaweed
Storage


Pele dipped her spoon in the honey once more just to be able to evaluate the richness of its taste. "Mmmm," she drawled, closing her eyes just for a moment as she savoured the taste contentedly.

"Barracks are definitely more suited to having some good night's rest," she responded when Ann probed the truthfulness of her words. "Else I would probably end up running around all night every night just to tend to various needs of the patients - it is hard to find a moment's peace here, as it were, when people know that I am around somewhere and available. If you do stay here for a bit you would have to make sure that people know you are not a healer on duty," a quiet laugh escaped her. "Else they'd just decide that you are simply replacing me. Otherwise it should be comfortable enough for you to rest up and find some other place."

"All right, I'm not supposed to empty the whole jar of honey right away," Pele then spoke aloud, as she fished out another spoon of the delicious treat.

Her mouth full, she nodded her understanding to Ann, and eventually said: "Well, don't feel rushed or obligated to take on any herb gathering or such. Even though I would appreciate you nearby and landing a helping hand, that is by no means a demand. Not that I could demand anything." A soft chuckle escaped her, as she turned her attention to more treasures Ann produced from her bags, and then set about jotting down the description and approximate quantity.

"Bree. If it were not so far - it would make for a rather interesting destination to visit," she said thoughtfully. In all likeliness she would not be granted half a year or a year of vacation just to travel around.
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Treatment Room
Falaneth with Naela


Falaneth tried to focus only on Naela’s gentle words and ignore Ms Irma’s continued commotion. She idly wondered how the city was still standing with a woman like that around to tear apart everyone who crossed her path, leaving nothing but destruction in her wake. Distracted and still slightly dazed, she nodded mutely at the healer, resigning herself to a brief examination before she could finally retreat home and let the noisy, turbulent world fade away. Safe and sound. Soon enough.

Malanor lifted her up before she could protest, though she pressed a firm hand against his chest as if it would ward him away. Anything to distance herself from the guard and this closeness she didn’t ask for. She could see the small creases in his uniform from a day’s work and every hair lining his jaw. He smiled at her and she turned her face away, brow pinched ever so slightly.

He had done nothing wrong and she had gone out of her way to evade his every kindness, begrudgingly accepting his assistance, because of a uniform she could not see past. It was more unsettling than if a dozen Ms Irma’s all shouted at her at once. If she had been wrong to judge him too harshly, what else had she never seen, or gotten wrong, from within her clouded perception of certainty? “Thank you,” she told him, tossing him a mere crumb of what he was owed.

The door closed at last and brought soothing silence upon them. The room felt cooler than reception, which was a welcome relief. Falaneth exhaled a small breath and closed her eyes for a calming moment. The knot of dark hair normally gathered so neatly at her nape had tumbled down, half-loose and wild with escaped strands. She loosened the last of it and stuffed the strip of red cloth into her pocket along with the unusually full coin purse.

“Yes,” she told Naela, both agreeing with her about the capacity in Ms Irma’s lungs and presenting her injured wrist. “I don’t think it’s too bad, really…do you?” She glanced around the room, taking it in for the first time, and wondered what frightening contraptions might be hiding in the cabinets. “I was just a bit careless and I tripped and fell, that’s all. I will still be able to work, won’t I?”

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Naela with Falaneth
Apprentice healer


Naela smiled with relief as Falaneth allowed her to take a look at her hand. Fingers soft and gentle, she carefully prodded and tested the hand, fingers and wrist. Though there was discomfort and pain, the fingers could still move. And while she knew it would be painful, she pressed as gentle as she could to feel for broken bones and found none.

At Falaneth's words she looked up with a coy smile. "No, I am afraid we are going to have to amputate.." Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she could not hold the chuckle back. "My apologies, I couldn't help myself." Naela placed a reassuring hand on the woman's arm, giving her an apologetic smile. "It's going to be ok, it is just sprained. But before I bind it to keep it fixated til it heals, I need to wash those nasty cuts on your palms. Don't want them getting infected."

Giving Falaneth's arm a squeeze she stepped away and headed over to a table that held a large jug of water and poured a glass. "Here, drink some water, I will have you out of here in no time."

She headed over to one of the cabinets and revealed it was merely filled with dozens of glass jars and bottles in various sizes. She grabbed a couple after sifting through a few before retrieving some of the rags and a rolled up bandage. Turning back to Falaneth, she grinned as she added "Don't worry, we keep the torture instruments in the other room.." having seen the look the woman had given the cabinets. She could not fault her though as she had thought exactly the same when she had first arrived.

Placing the items next to Falaneth she headed to the door. "Bare with me for just a moment, I just need some warm water to soak your hands in. I will be right back." She was not keen on leaving the woman alone, given the fainting, however the constantly boiling kettle was just two doors down. "Would you like some tea as well?" She asked the question as she was half way out of the door as if just remembering her manners.

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Unalmis Raxëlilta – Basic Healer Training for Enlisted Ranger
Storerooms, with MasterHealer Pele Alarion
@Pele Alarion

The young man had eyed Pele’s crossed arms with an air of apprehension, of the lecture likely to follow soon after, but instead the MasterHealer was of mirth in her supposings. It might have been a surprise to find that he did not follow her there quite so swiftly. The mere mention of interrogations and dungeons failing to sit lightly but instead draw a short silence. During which he noted that Matilda had rushed off, perhaps another vase of flowers had fallen .. and a foot shot out to keep the door from swinging to a close, sans the now absent assistant.

Better send that iron lady, the laundress, if you want to scare them good and properNal scoffed, overly to compensate then after. Miss Irma was quite legendary amidst the barracks, and many rumours abounded of what happened to young recruits who sent her far too dirtied uniforms and bedding ! Admittedly the Ranger probably hadn’t made her (or rather the unfortunate girls who worked for such a dragon)’s work too easy, since he had enlisted.

Pele’s careful consideration of a ‘kit’ drew him back to the task at hand however. “Are there differently shaped bandages, or just different sizes ?” he wondered aloud, rather than test his patient teacher’s mettle by unravelling the ones she’d chosen, to see for himself. “Only I imagine that trying to bandage different body parts makes for different sorts of challenges.


Offered an example of the charcoal, Nal did not need to be told twice, that he could taste it. Which no doubt showcased how he’d gathered such a knowledge of advice on ingesting poisoned foods. “Why does everything that’s supposed to be medicine taste so awful ?” he queried moments later, airing his tongue in a brief expression of disgust. The Masterhealer’s point about obtaining charcoal from a dead fire was a very welcome piece of knowledge though, since they’d joked already about the dangers of carrying too much equipment. If he had thought to bring paper and pencil to take notes, he would have written that one down. But everything went in his head, and hopefully some of it would stick.

Observing the woman also glance after their departed companion, Nal thoughtfully placed a basket on the floor to obstruct the door and hold Matilda’s place. “Can you ever make it worse though ?” he couldn’t help but concern, and seize back his instructor’s attention. “How do you know you’re not infecting a wound because you’ve been say, tramping about in the woods or the wilds for a week and your finger nails look like you are growing mould beneath them ? If you’re fussing about an open wound, how do you make sure you don’t contaminate it ?

🧚
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not touched by the frost.

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Pele training Unalmis @Ercassie
Storerooms


The idea of sending Irma as an interrogator made Pele smirk some more, and she could not deny that the woman would prove to be very effective in drawing out confessions from any hardened criminal. But since dungeon staff were none of the business, it remained a matter for some joking.

“Why awful?” the healer then queried, returning to the medical matters at hand. “This one is merely tasteless and dry; not much harm done either way, not even to your taste buds. This, however…” now she offered Nal another jar, this time containing powdered willow bark. “A good reminder of the meaning of bitterness. Might be of some help against the pain and fever though. And also can be obtained right from a willow tree in a form of bark, in the case of dire need. Preferably mixed in the drink together with some honey to lessen the bitterness. If we stick to the very basics, I think these three things would suffice: bandages, charcoal, and willow bark.”

Returning to the matter of bandages and dealing with wounds, which was a rather good topic to explore more in depth, Pele said: “There are definitely various sizes and shapes, but out in the field even a shirt sleeve would make do. And you are right, not all body parts are that easily bandaged; and sometimes you’d have to apply more pressure to the wound than just a bandage to stop the bleeding.”

She looked at Nal to see if he tasted the willow-bitterness, and then walked over to the corner behind the cupboards and retrieved a straw-filled dummy which had been quietly hiding there.

“Well, it is best not to touch the wound with your bare hands, if possible. A piece of cloth to clean, a bandage. It can definitely get worse, but then it is good to check the wound on a regular basis and see that it is not beginning to fester. So, you don’t just put on a bandage and leave it on for a week unchanged,” she explained, as she sat the dummy on the chair and noted: “I think it’ll do you good to practice on this one how to apply bandages. At first.”

Pele was well aware that a dummy was a rather poor means of a perfect practice target, but she did not want to let the youngster take to some live being right away. Besides, she found that his questions were now more targeted, and she did not mind following along, especially since these things were quite essential to discuss either way.
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Treatment Room
Falaneth with Naela


Falaneth suffered Naela’s examination in silence. A sharp pain shot through her wrist and into her thumb when pressure was applied. She barely winced. What was such a simple twinge in comparison to a heart drowning in sorrow? No physical ailment could match the ache she felt each and every day upon waking, in between shallow snatches of sleep, in every moment and with every breath. There was no remedy nor cure in all the herbs and stores in the Houses of Healing for the malady that plagued her. Grief could not be mended nor healed, only suffered through, leaving the one it touched forever changed.

When Naela said no, Falaneth held her breath. No, it was bad, no, it was not going to be fine, no, she couldn’t go back to work…there were so many ways she thought that sentence could end and a joke was not one of them. A breath escaped from her at last and her shoulders fell with relief. She couldn’t laugh, not even a chuckle, at Naela’s lighthearted quip and she flinched as if reliving the moment over again. “I should not have said that. Even to her.” Repaying cruelty in kind only fed further hostility, fueling a flame into a blazing inferno and she feared the fire and brimstone that would hail from Ms Irma if they ever crossed paths again. And if she lodged that formal complaint.

The water was refreshing and she accepted it with a grateful nod. From her seat on the bed, she watched Naela float around the room completely at ease, even joking, after what had happened. Some people were capable of taking things in stride and others internalized them and went over and over them in their heads, picking apart the pieces of where it went wrong. Falaneth was not one of the former types. But maybe she could try harder to be different.

“Are those the birthing rooms then?” she asked, completely serious. For the thought had crossed her mind what terrifying instruments might be needed in this place, and why, and where, and what they were used for and she had come up with this one conclusion (aside from the aforementioned amputations, which she was not going to mention ever again). Miraculously, in her curiosity, she forgot everything else that was spinning around her mind as it wandered in a completely different direction. There must be books about medical instruments and various procedures with all the answers though she was not sure how much more she wanted to know. Her mother had told her the harrowing story of her own birth more than enough times that she never wanted to hear it again.

“No thank you. Water is fine.” She held up the glass and took another sip. While she waited for Naela to return, she folded her sleeves up neatly in preparation for her wounds to be washed.

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