================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Night < About 2:47 AM >
IC day is: Orithil <Moon-day>
IC date is: 2 Firith <Fading>
Moon phase: New <HIDDEN>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 17 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3041>
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RL time: Mon Aug 13 17:55:56 2007
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Field Hospital
You are in a small clearing cut into the thickets. All about you, the bushes and trees grow thick and unwavering, blocking out most of the sunlight and dimming the atmosphere. Despite the lack of sunlight or moonlight, the clearing gives of a calm, quiet, secure feeling. Here is where the Cuigrithweg have made their Field Hospital. Several woven mats are laid about on the ground in neat rows and a pair of small chests rest at the north side of the Hospital. High above the mats, a large tarp is strung to provide some shelter on the off chance that it should rain.

Contents:
Galharth
Maglind
Lostiriel
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Darkness sits upon the leaves, and the stars cannot pierce through. The field hospital is moonless and starless, filled with gloaming night.

An elven lantern sits dying on the ground, touching the paler things around it: the edge of a sheet draping over a mat, a pile of used bandages, a shock of golden hair, Maglind's dreaming face.


"Anyone awake?" Galharth whispers into the silence of the Field Hospital. Shifting slightly, the clothier manages to raise himself into a semi sitting position. Scrambling slightly, he tucks several fluffy pillows against his back to remain upright without too muc strain. Sighing softly, his gaze sweeps each face of those recently injured.

"Go away," grumbles Maglind in his sleep, pulling the pillow over his head to shut out the night. "Ow."

The warden raises his head with much effort, blinking in the darkness. "Curse it, I moved again ... Mia will be mad." He peers around the clearing for a glimpse of the gardener.

"She's not here," the clothier mutters softly as his gaze sweeps quickly around to be sure that he's told no lies. "And who are you telling to go away?" He snorts softly and pokes at the bandage on his leg. "It's not like I can just leave. I'm stuck as you are."

Nodding towards Thorhur, he frowns. "At least Thorhur gets out on the morrow. T'was only his arm and he's mobile." Galharth says as he settles into the pillows. Turning towards the Warden, his frown remains. "Are you starting to feel a little better?"

"A little," murmurs Maglind, touching the bandage gingerly. "I ripped it open earlier trying to rise ... Atalante will be furious. The air chafes. I wish I was back ... useless."

"I can sympathize." Galharth says with a half hearted chuckle. "If you recall, that's what Grot managed to do to me in our last encounter. Wicked beast."

"Can I ask you something? Does the Sentinel Thorhur have some outside experience that gives him cause to spout off as an experienced Guard well past his position as a Sentinel? I've been considering his words, and I can not place what I know to his attitude."

"Oh?" asks Maglind, eyes suddenly glinting dangerously in the dark. "I did not know that! I shall have to recommend him to the Marchwardens. ... What did he say?"

Passing swiftly into the field hospital, Lostiriel's ears are greeted by the sound of Galharth's words. She smiles upon him as she hears him speaking much more clearly, and says, "You seem much better!" Her expression brightens and she moves over toward Galharth and Maglind, and as she hears Maglind's words, she smiles again. "And you seem much improved, too!" Then, contemplating what is being said, she tilts her head to the side, "What is this about Thorhur?" A puzzled expression crosses her face as she looks from Maglind to Galharth.

"Can't say exactly, but I can not say I appreciate him treating me with such disdain...." The clothier says with a frown. Catching Lostiriel's entrance, he smiles and offers a wave, adding in a low voice, "Perhaps we'll talk later about it..."

"Well met, Lostiriel!" Galharth says warmly, "And yes, each day brings us closer to recovery. Thanks to you, that is." Sweeping his hand to a nearby mat, he adds, "Please sit with us a while."

Sitting, Lostiriel is not oblivious to the sudden change of discussion, and a small frown touches her lips. She looks up at Galharth searchingly for a moment, but quickly dismisses her questions. "If I am to be thanked, and indeed, worthy of thanks, I can say only this - I am honored to have played any small part in your recovery. I was...am...dealing in my own way with everything that happened that day, but what eases my worries most of all is watching the improvement that is taking place." She pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. There is a new light in her eyes, a new gleam as she reflects on the past events, but shaking off her own internal musings, she shifts and asks, "So how is the recovery process? Are you terribly impatient with the day by day heaing?"

"Lostiriel," greets Maglind with a wan smile. "I am glad you came to visit. It is not too long until we are all free. And then we should go back..." He trails off, resting head in one hand, pensive.

"I'm always impatient with healing. And even more so with the wound on my leg." Galharth admits as his hands fidget slightly with the bandage on his leg. "Each day gets better, and yet it'll be longer still before I can walk freely."

Glancing towards the Courier, he tilts his head slightly. "Do you think you learned what you needed in order to complete a major portion of your Internship?"

"I am glad to visit, Maglind. And I shall be glad when you have all returned to your full health." She looks at Maglind curiously as he trails off, but then turns to Galharth. "Nevertheless, you shall walk in time, and this will all be past you. " Taking a deep breath, she answers, "I should hope that I have... I believe that I have learned enough." She lowers her head for a moment, then lifts it again as she continues, "I have enormous respect for the Guard. Although I always have, it is much more dear to my heart now."

"I understand," Maglind murmurs softly. "Do we continue, Galharth? Next time we go we shall be farther from the forest, and it will be more dangerous. I do not want to meet it again."

Nodding in reply to Lostiriel's words, though not directed to him, Galharth clearly agrees with most of what she says. "A little training probably wouldn't hurt some of them. Perhaps we could join so this since it would put us all on the same page." Galharth says after a moments consideration.

Looking to Maglind after he's spoken, the clothier stares blankly for several moments. "Twice attempted, twice failed. It makes me wonder if it is work the trip to even attempt it further than we have already." Frowning, he glances from the Courier to the Warden. "It can be replaced, and yet.... I worry that it's attracting interest outside the wood. What do you both think we should do?"

A silvery laugh escapes Lostiriel's lips and she nods, "Training, yes. I believe you are right." Her eyes twinkle until Galharth's next words, and then she blanches, her expression falling as the color drains from her face. "Are you... I hope that you are not talking about what I believe that you are." She looks from Maglind to Galharth, her grey eyes examining them intently.

"About the guard, Lostiriel?" asks Maglind quietly, lowering his eyes. "It is the duty of all Elves in this forest to defend it, if they can. But often those who cannot drag upon the guard's heels."

He buries his face in his arms. "As for that contraption ... I do not know. I would like to see what we do have before we drain our blood looking for the rest."

"Unfortunately, I am indeed asking what you'd think me crazy to ask." Galharth comfirms to Lostiriel. Lifting a brow to the Warden's words he peers for several long moments. "We should all train and all avoid dragging on anyone's time."

A weary sigh escapes the clothier's lips. "Alas, perhaps we should speak with one of the senior Guard regarding any furture thoughts about retrieving the catapult." He says softly. "Perhaps they would lead us or see it as a useless effort."

Taking a deep breath, the crafter settles back into the pillows and closes his eyes. "I fear sleep is once more upon me. Maybe we can talk more, later." With that he falls quickly to sleep.

Studying Maglind's face closely, Lostiriel quietly asks, "What do you mean by dragging upon the guard's heels?" Her body is strangely tense, her face set into grim lines. "Several could have died in the quest to seek that device. What life is worth its recovery?" She watches Galharth slip into sleep, and she turns away for a moment. "It is only my opinion, but I must wonder how it is even possible to consider it."

Maglind shakes his head, hiding his face. "I don't know. I don't know. It is the Master Tailor's decision, and I leave it to him. But if that thing has already been noticed ... it could be bait. I don't know."

The warden draws a painful, heaving breath. "It has spilled much blood."

Sitting silently for a time, Lostiriel refuses to look up as thoughts spin through her head. When she finally does look up, it is to say, "I have yet to say anything about how the previous attempt turned out, and I shall not say anything now. There is little to be gained from such talk. Everyone did all that they could, and who could have foretold what events would take place? None. But I believe that we can now look at what happened and use that as a guide in which to base future decisions. How, then, can we be so reckless?" There is a wounded expression in Lostiriel's eyes, and she whispers, "It was agony to have to choose to save either you or Mithsul. Fortunately, you both were saved. I can not forget how close to disaster we fell, however, and neither, I think, should you. Or Galharth."

"That have already passed," replies Maglind mildly, but he does not meet those eyes. "If I fall, I fall. But Mithsul ... you were wise. He was farther away. Forget such things, Lostiriel. I am sorry your internship has turned out like this."

And then the warden turns over, ignoring any previous commands from healers, and says no more.