Adab Nestad

[Quill]

'Here in Rivendell there live still some of his chief foes: the Elven-wise, lords of the Eldar from beyond the furthest seas. They do not fear the Ringwraiths, for those who have dwelt in the Blessed Realm live at once in both worlds, and against both the Seen and the Unseen they have great power.' (Many Meetings, FOTR)

For a while the hobbits continued to talk and think of the past journey and of the perils that lay ahead; but such was the virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their minds. The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song. (The Ring Goes South, FOTR)

West of Elrond's Last Homely House, amidst the beauty of flowing rivulets and fair gardens and rich beechwoods, Adab Nestad offers a quiet and peaceful place for those in need of rest and healing. The elegant stone building was established during the foundation of Rivendell shortly following the destruction of Eregion and its first patients were the Elven and mortal soldiers who fought in the first siege of Imladris. The medics of Adab Nestad treat all who are injured and afflicted, regardless of race. They welcome patients troubled by injuries of the fëa and hröa alike. Quill is the newly-appointed Minestor and Cándo is her Tinestor; they honor the Elven healing traditions as the custodians of the ancient hospital.

The Grounds

Adab Nestad

A large and pillared whitestone building with four wings. There are lush, well-tended gardens and a separate apothecary building in its central courtyard where the healer's medicinal herbs are planted and healing cordials are made.

North Wing

The Reception Area marks the entrance to Adab Nestad and the North Wing. A sturdy, oak desk in the shape of a half-moon greets all who step through the front arch. At the desk sits Aewrusca (played by Aig), a young elleth with flowing red hair, blue eyes, and high cheekbones, who awaits to check in patients and assign them to available healers. Visitors will also need to check in at the desk.

To the left of the Reception Area lie the Archives, a place where Taidors are trained and for more experienced healers can do research. The Archives are typically lovingly tended by the Librarian; however, the post currently lies vacant, and any curious parties should register their interest in the post with Aewrusca for an interview with an upper-level healer. To the right of the desk, healers will find the kitchen and the lounge, where they may relax off-duty or order prepared meals for their patients; visitors may also dine here.

North, South, East and West Wings

Each wing contains 8 treatment rooms and 6 recovery rooms.

Stables

Located outside the main building, just to the east. There are 10 stalls for healers and guests. Tavari (played by Moriel) runs the stables and several stablehands, who will take excellent care of every horse.

Cottages

Surrounded by lovely gardens, sunlit woods, and majestic waterfalls, there are two dozen cottages for healers who would like to live at Adab Nestad; you may request one at Reception and name it if you so desire. There are also four cottages set aside for guests of patients to stay in if necessary.

Healers: If you wish to live on the grounds (and with your family, if you like), tell Aewrusca at the front desk and she will put your name in a Cottage Form. You may RP in the cottage within this thread and in the Valley of Rivendell Free RP.

Becoming a Healer

If your character has experience as a healer in a previous Adab Nestad thread or if you have a character who has healing experience (even as another character and in a different region), the Minestor and Tinestor will allow the member to skip training as a Taidor and will be given either the Aphador or Nestor rank to start with. For returning eminent healers who were once active in previous years in Adab Nestad, they may take a Tar Turwen / Tar Tur rank, or a lower rank at their request.

Rules
1.) All normal Plaza rules apply.
2.) OOC comments should be posted in the Rivendell Activities thread.
3.) Healers: Please include your rank and icon in your post, as well as where you are and who you are treating.
4) Patients: Please RP your entrance into Adab Nestad and register with Aewrusca at the reception desk. Any ailments are allowed here, from physical injuries, illnesses, and darker ailments, as long as they are lore appropriate.

[Aethelu]

Bainiel and Idhion

It hadn't taken long to walk from their clearing in the Valley to Rivendell, but it had felt like an eternity as the siblings had walked along in silence. Today was a sad day, then there had been an argument, then there had been an accident. It was a series of bad events that had left the two feeling even worse than they could have anticipated. They reached the entrance to the Adab Nestad and looked towards the open doors. Idhion found the place to be quite soothing already, the sounds of water and the smell of herbs was lovely. Bainiel wished she hadn't risen from her bed when the birds had chorused the dawn.

They stepped into the reception area taking note of the elleth who sat at the desk. Bainiel hesitated, she had no desire to admit her own foolishness to such a respectable looking elf. Idhion gave her a nudge, which made her jolt forwards. The pain in her arm reminded her why they had come here, as she found herself sucking in her breath to steady herself. Cradling her left arm against her body she walked to the desk and gave an awkward smile.

"Good day, I am in need of a healer. I had...an accident."

Bainiel gently released her arm to reveal her blood stained sleeve, pulling it back to show an equally blood stained hastily made bandage covering her left forearm.

"She cut herself," interjected Idhion, knowing it was better to just admit it all than wait for his dear sister to unburden herself. "It truly was an accident."

The siblings looked between each other and back to the elleth, suddenly realising how strange they must sound. All they could do was smile and hope she took pity on their combined foolishness.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Brandor, a Dúnedain Ranger
(About four or five months ago)

Brandor rode slowly towards the healing house of Adab Nestad. Well, riding was perhaps a generous word. He was practically collapsed over the back of the horse, his face buried in Narful's mane, from exhaustion or injury, he didn't know. He had hardly any recollection of how he'd gotten all the way to Imladris from the hills of Rhudaur. "Good work, Narful" he murmured, patting his steed on the neck.

Arriving near the entryway, Brandor eyed the archway, wondering how he was supposed to try and enter the building. He couldn't very well ride his horse up to the reception desk, but he also knew that if he got down from his horse, it would be impossible for him to walk in, even if he was able to get down from the horse in the first place. Having a leg that had been nearly chopped off at the knee made all sorts of mobility difficult, if not downright impossible. He desperately hoped the healers here could do something that would at least allow him to walk again, but he knew that his active days as a Ranger were probably over. He hadn't been able to move his left leg below the knee in the two days since his injury, but it was constantly in pain. But in some strange way, he was already feeling a bit more energised. Perhaps the magic of the elves was stronger than he had thought.

Still not trusting himself to dismount without falling into an undignified and painful heap, Brandor decided that the best course, though perhaps a bit impolite, was to call out for someone from Adab Nestad to come out and help him dismount. Surely they had experienced such events before. "Hello?" he called out tentatively, "I'm in need of a healer, but my leg prevents me from dismounting without assistance." He waited, hoping that someone would hear him and could help him down and inside. It grieved him greatly that he needed to request such help, but he would much rather live than die because of his pride.

[Eriol]

Aewrusca Mordagnir was in high spirits today. She had recently informed Lhaindir that his last boquet of red roses wilted, so the Elf-boy picked her the loveliest purple peonies this morning. Also, this was the first time in a long while that Aewrusca would walk into Adab Nestad without a crutch for a broken leg or a sling for an injured arm. The accident-prone elleth considered this an impressive development! Perhaps she finally attained the concern for self-preservation that Aigronding hadn't quite mastered yet.

The cheerful Elf-girl in the scarlet and gold kirtle skipped into the healing house, ginger curls swaying. She put her flowers in a glass vase she filled with water on her mahogany desk and began to work, making a patient register chart with ink and quill. Shortly thereafter, a couple Elves ventured close to her desk. She could tell by the way they interacted much like herself and Calselda that the two were siblings. Aewrusca tensed when she noticed the elleth (Baniel) cradling her left arm with a sheepish grin. The sister admitted she had an "accident", revealing a bandaged wound that had been too poorly treated.

Aewrusca gasped probably louder than she needed, blue eyes widening with surprise. "What are your names and how exactly did this accident occur?" Aewrusca asked tightly, hoping her query didn't sound more like a demand. She tended to be emotional like her father. "The healer will need to know for properly treating your sister's limb," Aewrusca explained to the brother (Idhion). She raised one brow sharply, a flicker of a smile ghosting her red lips. "I have a sneaking suspcious as they say in Bree that there's more to this story than what you've both told me," Aewrusca remarked, ringing a silver bell to alert a healer to Reception.
"

[Aethelu]

Bainiel and Idhion

When the elleth (Aewrusca) gasped, Bainiel knew this wasn't going to be as simple as she had hoped. She had desperately being hoping this was just a little cut, but even she had to admit it didn't feel like a little cut the more time had passed. When asked for names and the exact nature of what had happened, she knew it was time for honesty. It truly had been a accident, but an accident brought about by her own temper and stubbornness. When the elleth addressed Idhion, he nodded and was ready to speak when Bainiel interrupted him.

"My name is Bainiel and this is my younger brother Idhion. I was practicing with a short sword in the valley and when I went to put it back in the scabbard, my hand slipped." She turned to find Idhion was looking at her with what seemed to be a mixture of confusion and pride. She was of age now, she had to take responsibility for her own actions. "We cut a strip from my dress to bandage it until we could get here. It didn't hurt so much at first, but now it is quite painful."

"It's an old sword," Idhion had to add, hoping it would be helpful. "It's been in our house as long as we can remember, I don't know when it was last sharpened. I don't know if that makes a difference." He stopped then, worrying he was starting to just babble as the elleth looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I am very sorry," said Bainiel suddenly finding tears pricking her eyes. "I know I have been a fool, today is not a good day and I have made it much worse." Idhion laid a hand on her shoulder, he hadn't seen his sister like this for a long time. He wondered if he should fetch their mother, but as the elleth had already called for a healer, he didn't wish to leave his sister just yet.

[Silky Gooseness]

Fresh smells in the courtyard - herbs layered on flowers layered on grasses, rich aromas that aren’t in the least medicinal but which sing a song of health and vibrancy. Silarien feels better just from inhaling, but she steps through the arch anyway, her wince banished by her smile. There’s a cheerful young redhead at the front desk, and a couple of Elves speaking to her. Silarien grimaces in sympathy at the sheen of blood when she hears a voice calling from outside.

Knowing her own hurts are far from serious, she leaves the blood and mess for someone to deal with urgently and ducks her head outside. There’s a - no, not an Elf, a Man, on horseback, eyes clearly full of pain. Silarien blanches at the wound to his leg he has sustained. He’s clearly a Man of fortitude to have made it so far.

“I’m no Healer, sir, but I can seek one for you,” she offers, and turns back to the reception desk. A bell has already been rung, so hopefully someone is on their way. The situation seems serious, and thus requires boldness. Silarien approaches Aewrusca.

“There’s a Man outside, with a grievous hurt to his leg,” she reports. “He cannot dismount alone without doing more damage, I fear; but it will take more than one person to move him. Perhaps you might assist, sir, if your companion does not need you by and by?” she suggests to Idhion.

[Aethelu]

Bainiel and Idhion

As they stood waiting for the healer to arrive, they noticed another elf (Silarien) enter and depart again just as quickly. Bainiel hoped she wasn't the reason for her leaving, between her blood and quiet tears she probably looked quite a state. When the elleth suddenly reappeared and announced there was a gravely injured man outside, she gasped. Walking here with a cut to her arm had been uncomfortable enough, but to ride with a leg injury was something she wouldn't wish on anyone.

The elleth asked Idhion for help, but he hesitated. His sister was in pain, she was more upset that she wanted to admit, but this man needed aid. He turned to look at her, but he didn't even need to speak. "Go," Bainiel said with a smile. "This man needs more help than I, I'll be quite alright." Idhion smiled and turned to the elleth. "I'm here to help," he said as they headed outside.

There was indeed a man on his horse, he was leaning forward his face contorted with pain. The wound on his leg was certainly unpleasant to look at, but Idhion refused to let it show. The poor man was already suffering it would do him no good if Idhion looked unsure. Taking a step forward he nodded his head to the man. "Greetings friend, we will help you get inside. The healers will be able to assist you from there." He was a little worried on how best to proceed to get the man down, he looked to the elleth. "I'm not sure if we should be slow and steady or try to get him off the horse as quickly as possible."

[Silky Gooseness]

The elf maid Bainiel is brave. She releases her companion from his duties without hesitating, and Idhion accompanies Silarien back outside. The Man is, incredibly, still keeping his seat. From his gear and demeanour, Silarien judges him to be one of the Dúnedain, and it seems their fabled endurance is all it’s been told to be.

“Slow and steady, I think,” she murmurs in reply to Idhion, although her eyes never leave Brandor. “He has come so far already - I doubt a few minutes more will do much more to his hurt, but we risk harming him more with haste. But much depends on the manner of his injury.

Tell me, sir,” she addresses Brandor, “what is the nature of your hurt?”

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Brandor

Someone (Silarien) had heard his call for help and had exited the building. She offered to and seek help and came back a few minutes later with another individual (Idhion). Together the two inquired as to the exact nature of his injury and how it would be best to help him dismount. "Sword or … or something sharp to the back of my knee," he murmured. "Can't move my leg, but it is in great pain."

He paused, and tried, but failed to sit up a bit straighter on the horse, "Can …can you get me inside? I think if you get my foot out of the stirrup, I might be able to …" His voice trailed off for a moment, "Dismount, if one of you can help support me?" The pain in his leg was making it harder and harder to form a cohesive thought. He hoped that he had been understandable enough for the two to help him off the horse and get inside to see a Healer. Narful was a wonderful beast, but he had his limits and kneeling to allow for dismount was one of those.

[Silky Gooseness]

Silarien has cautiously approached the Man’s horse. A Dúnadan’s beast is likely battle-trained, but all Elves have a way with beasts. Still, the horse doesn’t seem inclined to kneel, and no doubt would have done so already for its master had that been an option. She bites her lip at Brandon’s description. A nasty place to be hit. That kind of injury could prevent him using that leg fully for a while - if it heals badly, straightening it and riding well will be difficult forever.

“I’ve recently taken a tumble myself, so I don’t think I can take your weight, I’m afraid,” she says apologetically, “but if my fellow Elf here can come to support you, I can ease your foot out of the stirrup. I don’t know if it would be wiser to help you hobble in, or if you would rather wait on the grass for a healer to come out to you.”

She moves to the stirrup, to loosen it.

[Aethelu]

Idhion

Idhion listened as the man (Brandor) described his injury, it certainly sounded extremely painful. He watched as he tried to sit up straighter and speak with them further. It seemed it was getting harder for him to speak the longer they stood waiting. When he had been walking to Imladris with Bainiel, he had noted that as they walked her breathing had become more laboured and her face had become paler. If a gentle walk with a cut had caused so much discomfort, he couldn't imagine how this poor man felt now.

Hearing the elleth (Silaren) state she had her own injuries to deal with, Idhion snapped out of his thoughts. He stepped up to the side of the horse, giving it a gentle stroke hoping it would stay calm as they helped his rider. "We will try to be quick," he whispered to the horse, though he was sure he was trying to convince himself as much as the horse. He reached up towards the man, placing his hands in such a way that he could catch him if he should fall. He looked towards the elleth as she moved towards the stirrup and nodded. It was now or never.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Brandor

It was now or never. His foot was free of the stirrup, thanks to the elleth (Silaren) and the elf (Idhion), after whispering something he didn't quite catch to Narfull, stood poised to catch him. Brandor had always considered himself a horseman. He had been riding horses since before he could even walk, but now, getting off of a horse, something he normally could do without even thinking about it, would likely take all of his strength and then some. "I… I don't know," he answered in response to the elleth's question. "I don't know if I'll have the strength to make it inside."

Brandor gingerly slipped his right foot out of the stirrup and now, with both legs free, he began to slide off the left side of Narful, hoping that the landing wouldn't be painful. Dismounting, or perhaps it should be called falling, was a lot easier than he had expected. He had been using all his strength to stay in a position that resembled uprightness, but now, finally having the means and permission to relax, he suddenly found himself heading quickly towards the ground.

[Almarëa Mordollwen]

Nestor Almarëa Mordollwen
Flashback scene - four or five months ago
(with Brandor, Silarien, and Idhion)

Almarëa was up a tree, literally, when she heard the commotion. The dark-haired, green-eyed elleth had been living in one of the cottages at Adab Nestad for the last few months (when she wasn’t visiting Lindon or on missions for the Guard, that was), and the dappled forests that surrounded her cottage were a lovely place to sit and read. And if you were Almarëa, you did that reading about twenty feet above the ground, perched on a friendly bough, and leaning against the great trunk of an ancient maple. So far, the healers had yet to find a new Librarian to take over management of the Archives, and therefore no one had yet objected to her reading habits.

The elven woman had only recently returned from another trip to Lindon, and had been debating her next move. Raina was convinced that Almarëa should move to Lindon permanently, and Almarëa was finding herself less and less opposed to the idea, but there were still aspects of the Last Homely House that she found comforting, and one of them was certainly the halls of Adab Nestad. Today she was dressed in simple grey trousers, and a matching tunic belted at the waist. Her hair was, unusually for her, braided and wrapped up around her head, so it did not get caught on the branches.

The faint ringing of a bell disturbed her peace, carrying over the natural sounds of the forest, and she nearly turned back to the book before realizing that she was probably one of the only healers currently on site, and she should definitely go and see if someone needed help. She tucked the book into her leather satchel, and then gracefully descended the tree and headed to the front entrance of the North Wing, meaning to ask Aewrusca what had happened. Before she made it there, however, she came across a small group of people just outside - a man, seemingly injured (Brandor), and two elves (Silarien and Idhion), trying to help him dismount from his horse. She was just in time to see Brandor begin to fall, but too far away to reach the group in time to help catch him. Nonetheless, she hurried forwards, calling to Aewrusca as she did so to prepare one of the treatment rooms - this looked like a serious injury …

[Aethelu]

Idhion

As the man (Brandor) finally removed his foot from his stirrup there was a sickening moment as Idhion worried he would fall to the other side. He didn't think he could run fast enough to get around to the other side and catch him. Almost thankfully, he began sliding to the left where they were stood. His relief was short lived as he realised that for the poor man, all his strength had left him and he was dropping limp towards them. Idhion remembered the elleth (Silarien) had mentioned she wouldn't be able to support his weight alone, so now he had to make sure they both didn't tumble to the ground.

Reaching around he tried to slip his arms under the man's armpits as he fell, twisting him as gently as possible. He figured he was around the same height as the man so he could only hope that he could hold him up. At last, the man's full weight dropped into his arms, Idhion trying his best to keep him up and not letting his injured leg take any weight. It was strange to find himself holding a strange man up, chest pressed to chest, the man's head next to his. Idhion turned slightly towards the elleth, hoping she could now take some of his weight as well. He noticed there was another elf (Almarëa) hurrying towards them too.

"We will get you inside," he said, hoping the man was still somewhat conscious enough to be able to work with them to get inside. Idhion looked again towards the others. "I may need a little assistance."

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Brandor

Somehow he was still cognitive enough to realise that the elf (Idhion) had caught him, but try as he might, he wasn't able to help support his own body weight and fell against the elf's chest, his head dropping on the elf's shoulder. Through a very muddled brain, he thought he heard the elf call out to some others for help and promised that they would get him inside. He managed to mumble, "I'll do what I can." His fingers fumbled at his belt, in an attempt to remove his sword, which thankfully hadn't injured anyone (at least that he was aware of) on his way down. As another individual approached, he murmured in a barely audible tone, "Please, get me inside."

[Eriol]

"The house of the king and their colours were white and gold and red,
and their emblems the moon and the sun and the scarlet heart."
- Tolkien, from The Book of Lost Tales II:
The Fall of Gondolin

Almarëa, a friend of Aewrusca's parents, told the Elf-girl to prepare a treatment room. Aewrusca's mouth formed a small of O surprise. Usually she spent most of her time here sitting at the desk, performing secretary duties. She was happy to help! Aewrusca bolted from her chair and ran across the hall, red hair streaming in her rush. She came to the lounge for healers and flung the door open. "Quill, it's busy as the Hall of Fire on a High Day!" The Elf-girl exclaimed with hysterical stridency. "Almarëa needs you at reception!" Aewrusca turned the corner and shot down the hall without tripping over her own slippered feet surpisingly and burst into Treatment Room one. She flung back the curtains to light the chamber and opened the supply cabinet. She covered the operating table with a new comfortable sheet then inspected drawers, filling them with bandages and needles and thread.

Aewrusca heated Bruinen water from a bottle on a small kettle. Just as she determined the medicinal herb stock was low, a willowy High Elf named Annamíri entered. She wore a red kirtle embroidered with golden motifs of moon & stars along its scoop neckline and ornate white belt. The pendant of Annamíri's silver necklace was a ruby heart. The beautiful noble with wavy brown hair delivered Aewrusca's father in Valinor and been a healer in Gondolin's House of the King. She was a high-ranking healer at Adab Nestad and often worked at the Apothecary building unless in the event of emergencies or if she was serving with the Imladris Guards out of the valley. "These are herbs, teas, mixtures, ointments, and poultices, lissiorë ("Sweetheart," Quenya)," Annamíri explained, taking jars and small decorative chests from the satchel she carried. "I'm replinishing every room."

"A patient is bleeding at reception!" cried Aewrusca and was patted by the serene Light Elf with the soft, radiant brown eyes.


"I've included many things to stanch excessive blood," Annamíri promised her, pointing at a vial of powdered yarrow. "If I'm needed, I'll either be in house or back at the apothecary, ninya moina ("My dear," Quenya)." They left together, Annamíri to the North Wing and Aewrusca to Reception where she told Almarëa that Treatment Room One in the East Wing had been prepared.

[Aethelu]

Idhion

The hope that the man (Brandor) was conscious enough to walk with little aid proved to be short lived. The man's head rested against his shoulder, the weight of it surprising him. He loved his mother and sister dearly, but they were not the kind of family to hold each other close. In fact, this was probably the closest he had physically been to another being in an extremely long time. Taking a deep breath, he began to formulate how he was going to get the man into the building.

The man was trying to do something, his hands fumbling at his waist. As carefully as he could, he pushed his body back to give some distance between the two of them. Of course, the sword on his belt, it would do them no good if either of them were further injured by the weapon. Letting the man drop his weight back onto his chest and shoulder, Idhion carefully reached down to find the buckle. "Let me help you, then I'll figure out a way to get you inside." It didn't take much to loosen the buckle and the sword clattered to the ground. "Sorry," he winced, only hoping that it wasn't damaged as it hit the floor.

Now the final test was how to get him inside. He could barely walk from exhaustion as well as the injury, and he certainly wasn't going to be able to put any weight on it. Dragging him wouldn't end well, but what about...yes, that was it. "I'm going to carry you the best I can, but I'll need to move you, are you ready?" There was a mumble but he had no idea what kind of response it was. It was now or never. As carefully as he could, Idhion dropped one arm and began to turn his body. When his shoulder was under the man's shoulder, he quickly dropped the other arm and finished turning. The man was now resting on his back, head dropped onto his shoulder once again. Idhion let out a sigh, he had been a little worried the man was going to end up crashing to the floor. Reaching back he sought out the man's arms, wrapping them around his neck and gently pulling while leaning forward. Now he was bearing the man's weight entirely on his back, glancing down to make sure his feet were off the ground. Gripping onto his arms tightly, he began to move forwards as quickly as the extra weight would allow him.

"This man has a severely injured leg," he called out as he walked, hunched over as he was he couldn't quite see who was in front of him. "He needs help right away, can anyone help?" He could only hope Bainiel was able to wait a little longer while they found a way to aid this man.

[Almarëa Mordollwen]

Nestor Almarëa Mordollwen
Flashback scene - four or five months ago
(with Brandor, Silarien, and Idhion)

She was nowhere near close enough to help stop the man as he fell, but fortunately the elf standing next to him managed to catch the injured mortal, and even managed to move him into a position to carry him, as it seemed the man was barely conscious and totally unable to support his own weight.

She hurried up at the elf's call. "Have you got him? Do you need help to carry him inside?" She then realized she should perhaps introduce herself. "I'm Almarëa, one of the healers here - I've just asked reception to prepare a treatment room for him - it's not far, just inside these doors." She started to lead the way into the building, watching carefully to make sure the young elf (Idhion) could manage. Aewrusca told her that the room had been prepared, and she nodded her thanks. "Are there any of the other healers here today? I need to see to this man immediately" - she gestured at Brandor - "but there's another woman here (Bainiel) who is also injured."

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Brandor (currently mostly unconscious)
Flashback scene - four or five months ago
(Almarëa Mordollwen, Silarien, and Idhion)

He was floating. There were voices in the air saying something about bleeding … reception … treatment rooms … His leg … something was wrong … it hurt … and didn't hurt …

Someone was holding his arms … moving him … but who? "Father?" he murmured.

Where was he … ? Why did he hurt …? Floating … pain … tired …

Sleep … sleep …

[Aethelu]

Idhion and Bainiel

Somewhere before him, Idhion heard a voice. He managed to look up enough to see an elf hurrying towards him. "Greetings Almarëa," he said through gritted teeth, still trying to put one foot in front of the other as he walked. "I think I can manage, as long as you can guide me." The man was heavy but not too heavy, he was sure he could make it as long as the treatment room wasn't too far away. Carefully he continued on, eventually entering the reception once more. He heard a gasp and glanced up to see Bainiel staring. "I'm sorry," he said with a grin. "This is taking a little longer than I anticipated, I'll try to be back soon."

Bainiel nodded. The man was far more injured than she was, he was barely conscious and his leg was bleeding. She looked down at her own injury and almost felt ashamed. She had been foolish and let her anger get the better of her, now she was suffering for her own mistakes. Here was her little brother doing so much to help this man he had never met, while also still trying to comfort her. It was time to grow up, she thought to herself. "Take your time brother, I will be fine," she called out to him as he walked away.

Idhion continued his slow progress, following Almarëa until they reached a room. The room smelt so fresh and clean, the scent of herbs filling his nose. It was a pleasant and calming scent he couldn't deny that. He took note of the bed and took a deep breath. The man hadn't moved or spoken while he'd carried him in, he had no desire to jolt him awake by causing any pain. Slowly, he backed up towards the bed until he could sit the man down on the edge. Then he took hold of the man's arms to hold him up, while he quickly turned and ducked under to stand facing him. So far so good. Releasing one arm, he reached to support his shoulder and began to lower him down onto the bed. The man was now lying awkwardly, his torso and head on the bed while his legs dangled off. Hoping he didn't cause any discomfort, he gingerly lifted his legs from the ankles until they were on the bed too. He was still lying a little awkwardly, but he was at least on the bed now. The man murmured as he lay there, but Idhion wasn't quite sure what he had said. It had sounded like 'Father'.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I don't think I am the one you are looking for." He turned to Almarëa and smiled. "Please let me know if you need anything more. It is just...the elleth at reception is my sister but if you need further help I think she can manage without me a little longer."

[Quill]

Minestor Quill
The Healers' Lounge, then the Reception Hall

It had been something of a quiet morning, which came as a not unwelcome surprise to the newly-minted Minestor, who had only arrived in the Valley from Lindon a fortnight ago, and if pressed closely on the subject might have confessed to still feeling as though she did not have her bearings when it came to running the elven hospital. Quill was grateful for a moment to herself in the healers’ lounge, having checked in with Aewrusca at the front desk, made the rounds to the patients in recovery, and consulted with the stables and the apothecary to make sure there wasn’t any fuss of a morning before she had retired for a cup of tea brewed by said apothecary. She took the unexpected time to review the latest logs, which detailed the more recent patients, their ailments, and their treatments, taking note of the healers that had been most active lately in Adab Nestad. They had a fine roster, though she wouldn’t have objected to a few new trainees - she would have to remember to speak with Cándo later to see what the Tinestor’s thoughts on recruitment were.

Quill was making a note in the margins of the log when the door to the healers’ lounge burst open, revealing the frantic, red-headed Aewrusca, who lingered only long enough to blurt out an exhortation for the Minestor to visit Almarëa at the front desk before she disappeared like a ghost who had too many people to haunt. Quill’s pen slid to the edge of the page, and she quickly set it down on the table before rising efficiently yet urgently and hastening from the lounge and into the reception hall. The entrance had transformed from the picture of stillness it had been only an hour earlier into a scene of mild chaos, though the reliable Nestor Almarëa did seem to have it mostly in hand. Aewrusca returned as Quill stepped out, just in time to hear the young elleth inform the Nestor that the treatment room was ready for the patient she was currently supporting in her arms (Brandor) with the help of another man (Idhion).

“I am here,” Quill interjected quickly, hoping that she was exuding the calm capability she associated with the best kinds of healers. “I will take care of this young woman - thank you, Almarëa.” She turned then to the woman that the others left behind as they hurried off to a treatment room (Bainiel). She was cradling her arm, whose sleeve was soaked in blood. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” she told her in a gentle tone. “My name is Quill, and I am the Minestor here - the head of the healers, that is. Why don’t you tell me what your name is and how this happened?” She gestured towards the hallway to indicate that they would travel together to a treatment room as they conversed.

[Aethelu]

Bainiel

As Bainiel watched Idhion disappear down the corridor with his heavy load, she found herself lost in thought. She had reached her maturity, this was her time to find her place in this world. How had she not realised that Idhion was growing up as well. He was kind and caring, he was selfless too as he had shown in hurrying off to help this stranger. After all, he had spent so much of his life mediating between a volatile sister and a pacifist mother, how could he not have grown up kind and caring? There would come a day when he would marry and she will be so lucky to marry one so sympathetic to those he loves.

She was so busy in her thoughts that the voice beside her made her jump. She turned to find an elf standing by her, speaking with such a soft voice she felt instantly soothed. "Good day to you Quill, my name is Bainiel." She began to walk down the hallway, wincing a little as she found herself moving again. "I was practising with a short sword in the valley, when I went to put it back in its sheath my hand slipped. The blade slid across my arm." Bainiel sighed, recounting it aloud reminded her that it sounded quite ridiculous. What kind of elf could be so clumsy as to cut her own arm while trying to sheathe her weapon? "It is an old sword, I didn't realise the blade was still sharp." She gripped her arm closer to her, looking down at the blood stained mess of her dress and the attempt at a bandage. "I...you see...today has not gone well from the moment I awoke." She offered a sad smile to the healer, she knew that healing her physical ill was only one part of the healing she needed to do.

[Silky Gooseness]

Silarien seeing Brandor in

Silarien sighs in relief as Idhion moves quickly in to take the Man’s weight. He comes down from the horse all at once, but securely. More Elves are now moving out to assist; he’ll be in good hands from here.

Silarien takes a moment to breathe and stretch. She’s still a little sore, but it’s nothing too serious - she won’t take up the healers’ time just yet. Indeed, it’s probably nothing she can’t sort out herself with some guidance to the right herbs. The gardens around Adab Nestad are fragrant with them, lovingly planted and tended. Just breathing them in is doing her a world of good; she’ll pop in later to see if someone can let her have some salve. Silarien is certainly capable of making some herself, but she’ll be the first to admit she hasn’t perfected those skills with the years of practise the healers here no doubt have.

Instead she reaches up to stroke the soft nose of Brandor’s horse, now standing patiently outside.

“Hello, my friend,” she says. “You’ve clearly come a way - let’s see if we can’t find you someplace to get that saddle off and rub down?”

[Fuin Elda]

Reception

Fuin made her way into the house of healing it had been a very long time since she had been in need of help with healing having learned to heal from this house long ago, however at the moment she could not heal herself and so she headed quietly and quickly to Aewrusca.

"Hello friend, I'm afraid I have managed to hurt myself in a way that I can not easily repair myself." She said with a chuckle holding up her dominate right hand for the receptionist, it was in a tight fist wrapped with a clean piece of linen and tied tightly. If it were not for her tight fist the linen would be stained red from the cut she'd given herself being the fool and instinctively grabbing for a blade she had dropped. She had caught the wrong end of it. She knew she needed stitches which with her left hand were far enough beyond her skill set she would rather another healer do them so they would be neater than what she could do with her off hand.

[Eriol]

Reception

Aewrusca Mordagnir lifted a finger, opening her mouth to speak with Almarëa but then closed her lips an instant later. She motioned toward Quill when the Minestor she had sought arrived. The young Elf-girl continued to be kept busy. Fuin Elda appeared, hastening toward the Reception desk. Aewrusca smiled softly when Fuin called her a friend. She had known Fuin all her life since the elleth was a longtime friend of Aigronding, her father, for many years. Aigronding had acquired a myriad of companions over the centuries and he often introduced them to his four children.

Aewruscsa's smile was swiftly replaced with a frown, noticing the linen bound tightly about the Dark Elf's right fist. "Varda's stars, Fuin!" exclaimed the redhead, hand over heart. Aewrusca wore her heart on her sleeve just like Aigronding and was sensitive to a friend's hurts."I would be screaming!" Aewrusca added, laughing now, put at ease by Fuin's own chuckle. She grinned at Fuin; Aewrusca had always admired her toughness. "Let's find Tinestor Cándo!" Aewrusca decided, bolting from her chair with such haste that it fell behind her. Blushing, she righted it then walked briskly with Fuin from Reception to the high-ranking healer's office; Aewrusca remembered that Annamíri was stocking the wards so she she decided seeing him was the best alternative.

Aewrusca rapped three times on Cando's door then greeted him warmly when he answered before making an urgent gesture at Fuin. "The Tar Turwen accidentally cut herself and needs stitches, Cándo!" Aewrusca quickly explained. She waved Fuin farewell, hoping that she'd recover soon, then hurried back to Reception. She hoped there would be enough healers today in house. Aewrusca was only a Host medic trainee...but was willing to serve if necessary, in some way even if guided, although she was a novice. Aigronding's youngest daughter was eager to learn and a quick study.

[Moriel]

Cándo sighed heavily as he rolled up the short scroll and tied it with sturdy thread. Another response to the tidings he had been bearer of some time ago now- but with friends scattered about all of Arda over the ages past, sometimes news traveled slowly. Cándo thought he had come to terms with Herugon’s death, but with each letter he wrote and reply he received, a knife seemed to strike at his heart. It had been the ranger Moriel who conveyed the news to him, after their conversation had led him to discover that she had roamed for a time with the Bar-en-Raen, Herugon’s last known associates. He had asked after his friend, delighted to meet someone who had met with the dark, burly nér more recently than he. Herugon seemed to have vanished from all contact, and Cándo had spent many hours, days, and years in wonder and worry. But glad news was not to be: the face of the nís with the strange eyes had closed over in sorrow, and she told him that Herugon was dead. The Champion of Thargelion had given his life to save her in a moment of dire peril, from which they could never both have escaped. The Champion of Thargelion. It had been strange to hear Moriel’s voice say those words; so many years had passed since he himself had even thought them. But that was how he would remember the dour, wrothful nér who had been his friend, and fought at his side: The Champion of Thargelion, proud, triumphant, and laughing as he had been the day they had first survived Glaurung’s fire.

Now someone was coming, and Cándo knew who: even through the heavy door that closed in his study, he could hear Aewrusca’s strident voice echoing from the reception area, and the steps of two people coming his way. The Tinestor smiled, his spirits beginning to lift. She was a quick and spirited girl, Herald Mordagnir’s youngest daughter, and would no doubt do well.. if she could keep her focus throughout the long training it took to become a full healer. Still, Cándo believed that her flightiness was only that of a young girl, not of someone unserious about her studies. The door burst open and, as expected, in came Aewrusca- and behind her, a most unexpected but welcome figure.

“Fuin.” Cándo greeted her with a smile as he arose, warmth enriching his somewhat reedy voice. He had never known her well, but Fuin had been at work and study here in the past when he was, and she was the author of an herbal text in the library here at Adab Nestad- knowledgeable and worthy of respect, as one who had risen to the rank of Tar Turwen. “You are most welcome! Thank you, Aewrusca,” he called after the elleth as she left, before returning his attention to Fuin. His long, rusty-hued robes whispered as he passed around from behind the desk and gestured to the nís to sit in the comfortable chair before it. Though he had once been captain of the pikemen at Ost-Bellas in Ard-galen and many places besides, Cándo had put away his martial life and saw no need for its garments. “I hope you are not badly injured. May I?” he extended his hand to receive her bandaged fist.

[Fuin Elda]

Fuin for her part smiled and shook her head at Aewrusca at the comment about screaming because of the cut, she did manage to keep the words 'You should use a sharper knife then if it hurts when you accidently cut yourself' from falling out of her mouth. She didn't want to encourage the child to accidentally severe a limb that would be most unwise since she would undoubtedly have to answer to the elleths father and mother. She wasn't sure which of those two would be worse.

The headed to the Tinestors office who was in there at the moment she didn't overly know she hadn't overly needed to come to the house of healing since her return until now but seeing Cándo brought a smile to her face she bid farewell to Aewrusca and sat down on the chair. "It is good to see you though I will admit I do wish it were under less frustrating circumstances, sadly this was one where I did not feel comfortable healing myself." She said letting putting her fist in Cándo's hand. She took a deep breath steadying herself the act of keeping her fist as tight as she could had certainly helped manage the pain but as she relaxed it she could feel the skin move and a fresh wave of blood stained the linens. This brought a hiss from her but little other reaction, she was old enough to not cry out unlike Aigronding's daughter.

Once the Tinestor pulled the bandages away he would find a fairly clean but deep cut straight across her palm just above the thumb and then a few smaller cuts on each of her fingers though those were not as deep. "I am afraid it is bad enough that I knew better than to try to fix it myself." She admitted, "I did at least partially clean it though I did not have any medicines to make sure it was clean just water at the Tingdain." Admittedly other beings had put swords and spears and the like through her and she'd survived those but this was her own doing which was quite embarrassing. Of course her next thought was if anyone wandered into the Tingdain right now there would be a trail of blood likely (she had not double checked she'd been very focused on getting herself to the Abad Nestad as nobody else wasw in the Tingdain at the time) from the station she was working at to the sink and stock room at the back and an otherwise unattended dagger covered in blood on a work bench almost finished.