================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Dusk < About 7:06 PM >
IC day is: Orgaladhad <Trees-day>
IC date is: 8 Rhiw <Winter>
Moon phase: Last Quarter <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 16 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3040>
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RL time: Fri May 04 07:22:14 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
Mia
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Silence hangs within the boundries of the field hospital as a few rest, and one struggles to recover. A strange aniseptic scent drifts along the air, unmoved by a breeze or by movement. While the wood is a beautiful place to behold, this place is calm and sterile.

In this place, Galharth lays. His eyes are closed, his face is pinched in pain, and while the heavy bleeding was stopped by the Marchwarden while still in the foothills, the gaping wound that lines the ellons back and shoulder still weeps. Ribs are clearly broken, as is his shoulder blade and collarbone. Is he awake or asleep? It's unknown, but clearly he's in pain while he awaits a healers hand.

Luckily, Galharth need not wait much longer. Mia enters the hidden field with determination, her eyes immediately falling on the injured clothier and narrowing in worry. She wastes not a moment with pleasantries, instead walking quickly to him and kneeling by his side. She is all business as she inspects his wounds, still in silence, her mouth set in a grim line.

She reaches into one of the many pouches hidden within the folds of her dress and draws out a bit of a root, a few dark green leaves, some dried yellow flowers, and a small bottle of clear liquid. Reaching into another fold, she draws out some clean white cloth and lays it gently on her lap. Only then does she speak.

"Galharth? Can you hear me?"

Mia examines the injuries on Galharth.
HEALING: Mia examines you for injuries...

A moment passes, and then another before Galharth utters a reply. "Worked," he mutters with a pain filled slur. He makes to shift slightly so to turn towards his friend, and he gasps and shivers as his body wracks in pain. His breathing rises into pants and his arms tighten over his chest as if the very act of drawing air hurts. With a sound not unlike a wimper, he falls still with his eyes tightened moreso than before.

"Chew this, but do not swallow the hard part," Mia says as she slips the piece of root into his mouth, "Only the juice." She takes his arms and gently moves them down to his sides. "It will hurt for only a moment or two more, and you may start to feel a bit drowsy. Tell me once you begin to feel it, and I can start on your injuries." With deft movements, she pulls the cloth from his wounds completely. Again she falls silent, waiting for the mandrake to take effect.

Clenching his teeth tightly to chew is not a problem, as each breath, each movement inspires the response to pain. It is the relaxing of the jaw to move the root in a chewing motion that the clothier finds difficult. Even with the sweetness of the flavor, Galharth finds himself gagging though the effort to chew.

In what seems to be forever, a relaxing sensation begins to take hold, but not enough so to endure the removal of cloth from the wounds. "Gahhhhhh," he groans, biting his cheek along with the root. "Working some," he finally mutters as the relaxation soothes the discomfort.

Mia nods, "I know, it isn't pleasant," the healer says sympathetically, "But then I doubt that you've had an enjoyable experience so far."

Removing a tiny mortar and pestle, she takes the leaves and begins to crush them gently with the stone releasing the pungent scent of eucalyptus, then adds the flowers and a drop or two of the liquid. She blends them together quickly, then spreads the mixture evenly on a long strip of the clean white cloth. "Not only will this promote healing," she explains, "But it should also numb the area so that you feel no more pain. Once I'm done, I'll give you something else to take by mouth that will make you sleep for a good long time."

She is quiet for a few minutes as she works, but soon approaches the subject of his absence. "I was about to leave to go and find you when word came to the city of injured parties. No names were given, but I knew it had to be you." She sighs, her hands light on the painful-looking gash. "What were you thinking, Galharth? It was a lucky thing that Haldir happened to be nearby, else I doubt that I would be working on you now. More likely, we would have been preparing a bier."

"It worked," Galharth repeats numbly as his breath slows to shallow pants. "We did nothing till it's escaped was near." His words intended as slurred, and mumbled, leaving listeners uncertain about what was actually said. Frustration and distress is etched into the clothier's expression. "Sew?" He mutters, "Needle?"

Groaning softly, he fidgets to pull away as the herbal mixture is applied. Whatever fight was within him fades as the pain from the wound eases. "Watching, just watching," the ellon says softly as his eyes open and he stares blankly. "It spoke in light, can you teach me common?" Certainly there is little sense to the words uttered, but even so, there is purpose.

"Mia?" he finally says, looking upwards, "Hurts."

"You won't be sewing anything for awhile," Mia responds without ceasing to tend his wounds, "And lucky for you, neither will I. No, I think I can bind this without resorting to surgical meathods." Her forehead furrows slightly as she considers what else he has said, trying to decipher it correctly. "It moved in daylight," she mutters, "At least, that is what I think you are trying to tell me. If so, it is interesting, indeed, and something the Lady should know about... if she doesn't already." She sighs and shakes her head, "It is probably a good thing that you are injured right now, or else she would have been down here already, angry at what you have done. Oh, Galharth, why couldn't you wait? I knew you were determined to do something, but this? Had I known you were so serious, I would have thrown caution to the wind and gone with you. I feel responsible." She ends, miserably.

Blinking upwards with hazy crystal blue eyes, either confused or feeling the effects of numbed pain, his eyes struggle to focus. "Why? You're no Troll."

Closing his eyes a moment, the painful breaths continue as Galharth's face contorts with effort. "little fear for yourself," he mutters, repeating the Troll's words in the common tongue, "see if you respect another's life more..." The words faulter, and the struggle to say them is great. Several more breaths follow, and the Clothier's eyes open again. "A warning?" he asks.

Mia blinks rapidly a few times, pausing in her work. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, she leans forward just a bit. "What was that? Where did you hear..." She trails off, contemplating the familiar words being spoken by an unfamiliar tongue. What he said earlier comes back to her now, and she barely tilts her head. "I don't know," She responds as if from far away, "Was there anything more?"

"Yes," Galharth says meekly as his concentration clearly drifting in a world of twilight. "Haldir knows," he adds. Falling silent, it almost looks as if the clothier has given into sleep, but as his body relaxes his face twists in pain and his eyes suddenly flash open and he screams "NOOOO!" Weakly his fidgets slightly before exhaustion takes hold and he slips into blessed sleep for a moment.

Mia continues to minister to Galharth's wounds while he sleeps, grateful for a moment to silently ponder what he has told her. Her hands move quickly, confidently, and as she cleans the scrape and binds the last rib, she begins to softly hum.

It is a tune of earth and water, one of soft grass swaying in a spring breeze while the sun shines down to warm you to the bone. She places the tips of her fingers along the bindings and breathes in deeply.

Mia tends to the injuries on Galharth.
HEALING: Mia attempts to treat your wounds...

She feels it without even having to look, and the healer sits back with a sigh and twin tears rolling out the outer corner of each eye and down the contours of her cheeks as the healing fails. Sighing, Mia wearily runs her hands up either side of her face and into her hair, head bowed. She then rises and moves to a small tented area, an empty cot hopefully awaiting the exhausted maiden.

Fade to black