Near dawn on this summer day, the full moon hangs low in the brightening sky. Streaks
of pink and orange paint the few clouds that drift slowly across the horizon. The
Field Hospital is quiet, most healers and patients resting. In the cool air, one
edhel lies awake. His limp red hair spreads across the pillow and green eyes stare up
at the trees that overhang his bed. One thin hand absently caresses a small potted
plant that sits within easy reach of the pallet. Goerhim's long face is still very
pale, lines of pain etching tiny furrows across it. A damp, crumpled sheet hangs
half-way off the bed, pushed aside in some fit of restlessness. Bandages cover his
left thigh, running from hip to knee. A few birds sing in the background, lending a
somewhat incongruously cheerful note to the surroundings.
Satchel in one hand, cloak damp with dew, Hyardoel pushes through the brush around
the clearing, a single arm warding off the branches and the thickets as she ducks
into the dimly-lit glade. Once inside, her steely gaze goes straight to Goerhim's
cot; she pauses just to brush off the leaves from her shoulders before striding
through the clearing, straight to the edhel. With him awake, a quiet greeting leaves
her lips. "Goerhim. How fare you today?"
Soft laughter and conversation precede the entrance of an elleth and an edhel.
Caelwen enters first, bending back branches and holding them bent for Lothdaimoth,
who follows. A smile dies on her face as she looks around, then she glances up at the
courier before they both make their way toward Goerhim. She surveys his form, and
nods to Hyardoel. "Aye, cousin, how does the morning greet you?"
Vacant eyes turn towards the sound of his name. Goerhim gazes blankly at the forester
for a minute before recognition enters them. "Hyardoel." A small, tired smile bends
his lips before fading. His free hand goes to the edge of the bed, as though to push
himself up, before falling back to his side. The sound of quiet laughter draws his
eyes to his cousins and the same smile reappears briefly. "I am well enough. Or so
the healers assure me." He looks back to Hyardoel, his gaze sharpening finally. "Tell
me, what became of our mission after... Can the burned areas be replanted. I saw some
plants that still survived."
Caelwen is quiet, eyes darting from Goerhim to Hyardoel in the manner of one who does
not wish to interrupt. She fiddles with the lace at the hem of a sleeve, and glances
around...before she finally leans over the edhel and murmers with youthful
excitement, "Did you see those trees with the tiny, pointed leaves? They smelled so
spicy!" She straightens again, and darts a brief look toward Lothdaimoth, blushing
slightly and looking abashed.
Hyardoel's eyes shift to Caelwen in surprise. "Which trees, Caelwen? What did you
see?"
Lothdaimoth falls silent as they near the bed where his injured cousin lies. Dark
eyes rest on the terribly mangled leg for a moment; a mixture of compassion for the
dreadful wound, and relief that this cousin at least still lives filling them. A
small twinkle banishes some of the shadows in his face at Caelwen's enthusiastic
question, and embarressed blush.
Interest awakens in Goerhim's face. "I do not remember... where did you see them,
cousin?" In his own enthusiasm, he tries again to push himself into a more erect
position, forgetting his leg for the moment. But an abruptly bit-off gasp accompanies
his movements and he subsides back onto the pillows, eyes shut in pain. A moment
later, they are open again, and fixed on Hyardoel as he realizes she has avoided
answering his question. "Hyardoel," he says insistantly. "What of the clearing? Will
we replant?"
"They were..." Caelwen hesitates, searching for words, "..shaped like this." Her slim
hands prop together at the fingertips, forming a triangle between them. "Do you not
remember? And their leaves were tiny, like needles. And they had a strong scent." She
gasps as Goerhim lifts himself from the bed, and breaks her triangle to reach her
hands toward him. She does not touch him, however, but speaks, "Oh, do not do that,
mellon. You worry me."
"I see." The elleth answers Caelwen with a curt, quick nod, then turns to Goerhim
once again. Her words are slow in coming, now. "I saw no trees worth healing. Did
you?" She watching silently as the injured edhel tries to sit up, making no move to
aid the kennan. "Aye, They can be replanted, yes, but is it worth it? Without our
help, it will return within a yen--it would be a waste hasten the growth, only to
have it burned down again."
Goerhim nods thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes, that is true. And there were no trees left,
all had burned." An unexpectedly sunny smile lights up his eyes. "Where were they,
cousin? Along the way? I did see something like what you mention near the water. I
will have to go back and get one."
Lothdaimoth takes a step forward, a frown darkening his expression. "Goerhim," he
says. "You are not going back. It is too dangerous." There is no relenting in his
voice. "And most definitely you will not go merely to find some tree you do not
already have planted in your forest."
Caelwen's brows draw together, "Do none of you know of the tree? I saw them all
around after we left." She shakes her head, her curls swinging as she laughs. "Ah, I
am describing them poorly, methinks." Her bright eye is drawn to his leg, and she
lowers herself to rest in the grass beside his bed, crosslegged. She pauses, then
glances up at his face, "Oh, if you do go back, might I join you again? The ashes
from the strange trees made a delightful glaze, and I want more."
Lothdaimoth's frown becomes sterner. "Caelwen. You are not stepping foot outside the
Woods. Do you not realize how close Goerhim came to being killed? This is not
something to be taken lightly." His voice seems harsher than than maybe is necessary.
"I will not go to your parents, and mine, and tell them /another/ of their children
is dead!"
"Peace, Lothdaimoth," Hyardoel cuts in then, "If you must sow discord, do it not
here." Setting her satchel down, she folds her arms. "Besides, you exaggerate the
risk."
A small stubborn scowl draws Goerhim's eyebrows together. "But I am sure it is safe
now. The wolf is dead, after all. Amri..." his voice trails off, as he searches his
memory for the name. Shrugging indifferently at his failure, he says, "Anyways, one
of the knights assured me it was slain. What objection could anyone have? I need that
tree." An almost fanatical gleam of passion grows in his eyes. At Hyardoel's words,
he turns his head towards her eagerly. "Yes, you see. It will be no trouble at all.
And truly, I must have one of these." A note of pleading enters his voice at his last
sentance.
Caelwen seems to shrink inside of herself, and looks down with a crimson face at her
hands, folded in her lap. A few deep breaths she takes, and then looks rebelliously
up at Lothdaimoth, "Hyardoel was right. A wolf could have just as easily been within
Lothlorien's borders as anywhere." A hand raises to smooth an errant curl behind her
ear. "Besides, your work has ever taken you from our home, mellon. If Goerhim's work
and mine makes us go, why should we not?"
Anger leaps into Lothdaimoth's sable eyes, turning them hard as flint. He opens his
mouth, then takes a deep breath and visibly cuts off the words. When he does speak,
his voice is flat. Grief has replaced some of the anger in his face, but no emotion
at all leaks out into his speech. "When I went on patrol, we were all well-armed and
armored. What weapons took you to defend yourself, cousin?" His gaze rests on
Hyardoel for a minute, although his words are for all of them. "I have already lost
one cousin, and that was in desperate need to keep our people safe. I will not lose
another for nothing more important than glazes or trees." Another long pause, and he
makes a great effort to soften his tone. "Caelwen. Goerhim. If these things must be
gotten, let those who are better prepared go for you. I will ask among the Order, a
patrol could easily bring back more ash for you." A slight sigh. "And even a tree, if
you wished it."
A flinch barely covered by a downturned glance is Hyardoel's response to this tirade;
she remains like this, studying the grass for long moment, speechless for the while.
Almost...meek.Caelwen's face turns down once more, and she tugs at a curl near her
waist. Her free hand reaches up to rub at her eyes, but no sound does she make.
Dropping her hand again, she twines the hair around a finger, and does not brave a
glance to any. She eventually sniffles quietly.
A small tremble at the corner of Goerhim's mouth is almost a sulk. "They will not
know to get the right one." Almost at once, though his face brightens again. "Then,
when you have found a patrol that will do this, I will go with them." Pleased with
his brilliant solution to the problem, he relaxes a little, smiling happily at his
visitors.
Lothdaimoth looks around and sighs softly. "I am sorry. I should not have snapped.
But truly, it is very dangerous." He stops again, and then a small laugh is startled
out of him by Goerhim's innocent solution. Almost instantly the laughter is replaced
by a look of sadness and his eyes slide back to the bandaged leg. Gently, he says, "I
do not know if you would be walking quickly enough to keep up in time, Goerhim.
Perhaps it would be better to let Caelwen describe the tree to them?"
Now a laugh burbles from Caelwen, a glance given to Lothdaimoth, "I don't think
anyone understood my description of that tree. Did you?" She then leans toward
Goerhim, voice soft, "When do they say you will be walking again, mellon?" Her eyes
are drawn to his bandaged leg, as well.
Hyardoel looks across the cot to the copper-tressed elleth, starting slightly at
Caelwen's quick change of demeanor. First a sniffle, then a laugh? At another time,
perhaps, the Sinda would have sneered at the display, but today the elleth's eyes
hold no contempt. "No, Lothdaimoth. You spoke the truth, that time." Now to Goerhim,
"Perhaps one of us eryndi can go. Which reminds me." The elleth's lips twist into a
reluctant half-smile as she tosses the satchel to Goerhim. "'Twould have come sooner,
but Merenion insisted on the heartsblush--and you know how it is during summer."
"Then they will just have to wait until I am better," Goerhim says obstinately. "I am
going." A look of uncertainty shades his leaf-colored eyes at Caelwen's question, but
is immediately replaced by irritation. "They will not tell me. No one will tell me
anything." Thin white fingers pluck fretfully at the wrinkled sheet. "They just say:
" and here his voice rises in imitation of the attendants. "Do not worry, Goerhim.
Everything will be all right, Goerhim. You must remain calm and allow your injuries
the time they need to heal, Goerhim." Wearily, his eyes fall shut for a minute, then
open again at Hyardoel's voice. "Heartsblush? For me?" He snatches at the satchel and
opens it happily, drawing out the flowers and stroking their petals gently. "Thank
you..."
"Well, then..." begins Caelwen with a nervous glance at the elder cousin. She leans
forward, "When you go, Goerhim, will you get more ash for me?" She straightens again,
and giggles at the young Forester's glee. She reaches forth and plucks a petal for
herself, bringing it back again to brush at her round nose.
Stepping lightly in the sweet morning breeze, Galena is given away by the soft
tinkling of her bells. A near by attendant comes to her smiling. Words in whispered
exchange pass back and forth between the two momentarily and the Apperntice's jade
eyes are drawn to the cot engulfed by Goerhim's well wishers. A ravishing smile
graces the maid's face and she nods to the attendant. "Thank you, Maelwen.", she
speaks in a sing song voice, then begins her trek toward the small grouping.
Sorrow for his cousin still lingers in Loth's dark eyes, although a smile now graces
his face as he watches. Without taking a step away, he somehow has managed to
distance himself from the little group. A nod is returned to Caelwen before sounds
behind him bring his attention to the arrival of someone else. And this noise, he
knows quite well. He turns slightly and his smile grows. "Mae govannen, mellon. You
are looking very well this morning."
As Lothdaimoth turns to Galena, so does Hyardoel turn to Caelwen, smile turned true
at Goerhim's enthusiasm. "I have been meaning to ask you about the ash, Caelwen. How
do you use them, what are they for? I know little of the craft of the kennain."
Caelwen turns her face up toward Hyardoel. "They are used in glazes, mellon. The
smooth part on the outside of the piece." She smiles, and lifts the petal from her
nose to gesture with it. "What is this used for? ...I am sorry, all this time and
I've asked you and Goerhim little of your craft."
Galena turns her bright smile to Loth, "Mae govannen, mellon. How fares your cousin
this day?" Her stride continues until she stands by Lothdaimoth. Emerald round jade
eyes look down upon Goerhim studiously.
Goerhim looks up from his flowers, and a suspicious look crosses his face. "You're
not taking my flowers away." His arms go around the satchel protectively. The thin
lines of pain and weariness have deepened even in the short time he has been talking.
He eyes the healer warily. "And, please don't sing to me again. I am tired of people
singing and telling me not to worry."
Lothdaimoth merely smiles again, stepping back from the bed a little to give Galena
room.
"No use," Hyardoel replies to Caelwen, "Save for lending brilliant touches of color
here and there. And for brightening an injured friend's day. Yet your ash--do you
need much for a glaze?" She looks to Goerhim. "I think the tree farm will suffer
another type of tree. We can grow this tree, if the soil at the vale is not too
different."
Galena kneels at Goerhim's side, her violet gown shimmering in water like waves.
Golden hair gathered in loosely braided masses pools behind her and her face takes on
an angelic apperance. The maid draws in a breath as if relishing the scent of
everything near her. "I would not take away your flowers, Goerhim. Flowers from
friends aid the healing as much as song and herb. Yet you should not be so tense. I
too have been under the care of the Healers before and I do understand the
tediousness of laying about, still we do what we do because we care for you. You must
try to allow your mind to slow and meditate or you will stay here much longer." A
gentle hand touches the patient's brow in a most motherly way, comfort and song
plainly felt in every motion.
Caelwen stands again, a slow motion made graceful by her Quendi blood. Eyes to
Hyardoel, the kennan speaks, "I would have as much of that ash as I can get, mellon.
I don't know when I'll have such a chance again." She murmers to Lothdaimoth, "Well,
I'm off. Will you stay or walk back with me?" The petal she brushes again against her
cheek, and watches Galena a moment. "Goerhim, can I bring you anything to ease your
stay? Has Rhibi visited you, yet? He wants to hear of his gallant brother fending off
a wolf." She grins widely.
Lothdaimoth's gaze is turned from the healing of one cousin, to the other.
Thoughtfully, he regards her for a moment before responding. "I will walk back with
you." He glances back at the bed where Galena is now talking softly to Goerhim. "I
think there is no more reason to stay just now."
"I am not tense," Goerhim grumbles, but his grip on his present slackens. "And I have
done nothing but think. I am tired of thinking and of people avoiding my questions
and I am tired of staying here. I want to be back with my trees." The thought of his
trees brings another grievance back to his mind and he scowls at his older cousin. "I
am going to get one of those new ones." Green eyes return to the healer's, their
expression suddenly changed. Almost nervously, he demands of her, "When will I be
able to walk again. Why will no one tell me?" He doesn't seem to hear Caelwen's
question at all in the intensity of his request.
Wary eyes lift from Goerhim to Galena at his question, but Caelwen turns away with a
murmered, "Namarie," to all but Lothdaimoth. She paces slowly to where she entered, a
somewhat censored glance sent to her older cousin. She presses through the brush and
is gone.
Eyes avert as if in prayer as Galena hears the painful question of Goerhim. Peace
returning to her verdant gaze, the maid looks down into the eyes of her patient. "My
dear mellon, I can not answer that which I do not know. Your fea is much stronger now
than it was, but your body is still incomplete. You are not ready yet to attempt
walking, perhaps soon. Yet, that in itself will depend on you." Her focus goes now to
the bandages about the wounded area and she delicately moves them away so she might
see the wound. A short gesture to a nearby attendant brings a basket full of bandages
and poltices. "We will do all we can for you, yet you must help yourself as well."
An echoing farewell follows Caelwen's, and Lothdaimoth turns from the Field hospital
as well. Silently, he disappears down the well-hidden path, and for a moment, a
murmur of voices can be heard before he and Caelwen are gone completely.
Watching as Caelwen and Lothdaimoth go, Hyardoel bids both a civil goodbye, shrugs
once, and looks back at Goerhim. "Fear not, Goerhim. The trees will be safe 'til you
return." Grey eyes shift to Galena as the bandages arrive, and she calmly asks, "Is
there anything else I can do?"
Goerhim's eyes drop again to the brilliant plants laying on his chest. Seemingly
satisfied for the moment with Galena's answer, he lets the subject drop. A small
hissing breath is heard when the bandages are disturbed, but he makes no other sound,
only continuing to stroke the flowers.
Aelor walks into the field hospital and waves to Caelwen and Lothdaimoth as he passes
them on the path. He walks into the field hospital and sums up the situation in a
glance. He looks over at Galena. "Mae Govannen, Am I required here?" He then look
over at Goerhim and Hyardoel. He then turns to look out of the field hospital and
doesn't see anything out of the unusual.
Galena nods to Hyardoel as a small grin forms upon her visage. "Aye, you might talk
to Goerhim. You seem to calm him." Verdant eyes change a bit as they go up to Aelor
who stands near. "Thank you for the basket, mellon. Would you care to retrieve a
basket for the discarding of these dirty bandages?" With that Galena's hands work
carefully about completely removing the bandages from the area. Some of the lower
peices have adhered themselves into the healing skin and the elleth uses dexterous
care to remove them.
Aelor walks away from the table and rummages through the various items used by the
healers. He retrieves a small basket and walks back to Galena compliantly and sets
the basket down. "What has happened to your patient?" He looks sagely over at the
wounded. He then looks toward Hyardoel and then back to his work as he remembers what
he is supposed to be doing.
A yelp is surprised from Goerhim. "Ouch!" he begins, then shuts his mouth, determined
not to let anyone know exactly how badly his leg hurts.
Once all the dirty bandages are removed, Galena deposits them into the empty basket
and pushes it aside. The half-healed, mostly mangled leg of Goerhim lays exposed and
Galena absently clucks her tongue. "Aelor, I will need the grey pot in the basket
please... and the white."
Aelor retreives the items that the other apprentice requires and sets them down on
the table. "Is there anything else that you require at the moment or would you like
me to take a quick look at the leg of the wounded?" His eyes slowly move over the
contents of the hospital as he looks a bit more closely at the enviroment of the
field hospital that he seldom has come to.
Galena motions the apprentice over and asks that he bring the pots to her. "Look at
the separation of flesh and the way that it is healing. This must stay clean and dry
as much as possible. Carefully apply these poltices and then we will replace the
bandages." Galena then moves up to look upon the face of Goerhim. "How fare you,
mellon?"
Beads of sweat have popped out across Goerhim's forehead, and his face is whiter than
before. But he manages a weak smile, wincing again as someone touches his leg. "I am
fine." The words are slurred a little since they come from behind gritted teeth.
"Just... hurry." The red hair tangling across his pillow is damp with sweat, and his
hands ceaselessly roam over the flowers.
The healer's smile is reflected on Hyardoel's features, and she sits down on the
grass beside the cot. Aelor's glances fly past her as she grins at Goerhim,
supporting her chin with one hand. "Remember when Merenion's first day as a forester,
Goerhim? How he climbed up that birch at Amroth's hill?"
Aelor gently applies poutices as not to annoy the wounded. His hands work efficiently
and quickly and soon the dressing are in place and he motions to Galena. "Are you
ready to apply the bandages?" He then looks down at the leg with interest. "Galena,
It was a large animal that inflicted this was it not?" He then looks at the leg
curiously.
Galena nods to Aelor. "Aye, mellon. Very large. A wolf." The maid's eyes grow serious
and she moves quickly about the work of bandaging the wounded leg. "It is done
Goerhim.", she says after a time, "Lay back and think upon the day that Hyardoel
discribes for you. Imagine the way everything looked and smelled. Feel the breeze
upon your face."
Goerhim looks a little surprised at himself when he hears himself chuckle a little.
His eyes go to Hyardoel's. "Yes... I remember. It was spring?" The memories distract
him somewhat.
Aelor looks a tad disturbed "A wolf." He ponders curiously for a moment. "Nevermind."
Then a trace of a smile flits across his then serious countenance. He finishes what
he was doing and then nods to Galena. "Finished!" He then rinses his hands in the
surgery bowl and watches as Galena does her work.
Voice becoming soft and rich, Galena sings out to Yavannah as she looks upon Goerhim.
Each glance is measuring the patient's reaction carefully. "Loosen your body.
Visualize a soft fluffy cloud before you. Allow the lovely white to enfold you and
sink below you. It gathers there, below you and lifts you gently up. You can see the
trees moving slowly past you as you float upwards." Galena's voice maintains it's
song like quality imploring the fea to harken and Yavannah to aid.
A tiny nod follows another soft laugh. "Yes. He sat in the tree..." Goerhim's mind
drifts for a while before he draws it back again. "For.. I forget. How long?"
~ He sat there all day, ~ was supposed to be the answer, but Hyardoel does not dare
give it voice; the healer's words cover everything, a gentle calming chant. Still,
the answer may be found within the song: he stayed a moment, surely, or an hour, or a
day; a single week, or a year, or a yen. He was there, for as long as Arda exists.
For as long as Eldar abide.
Galena smoothes her hands gently over Goerhim's arms as she continues singing. "Time
does not exist now, mellon. Allow the scene before you to lose color. All is white.
Relax here. Let all thoughts seep from you. Imagine the thoughts of your mind as sand
being poured upon you. Let them hit and fall away."
The incessant movement of Goerhim's hands slows, and his face relaxes as the fierce
agony of his injury slowly fades to a dull ache. Green eyes remain locked on the
other forester's face, and when there is no response, he continues dreamily. "All
day... was it not?" The pauses between words lengthen. "He sat there... all day...
and..." His voice fades away, and weary eyelids begin to close.
"Breathe deeply, Goerhim. Allow the sands of thought to fall from you completely. Now
they are gone. There is nothing but you and the white comforting expanse. Breathe in
the purity about you. Allow yourself to continue to float. You are floating away from
this place. White nothing becomes clear blue sky." Galena's hands stop their motion
now and move to her lap soundlessly.
And at that, Hyardoel sits up straight, watching Goerhim sink to sleep.
Aelor watches curiously and smiles slightly as Goerhim falls asleep. He sits down in
a chair silently and watches and waits for his help to be called for. He notes every
movement of the other healer hoping to learn something from the other apprentice.
Almost completely relaxed now, Goerhim's eyes are closed and his hands still. A small
frown wrinkles his forehead, but he changes the uncomfortable empty blueness in his
mind to the safe protecting embrace of greenery. The frown is gone now, and there is
nothing left but the swirling colors in his dreams.
"Look through the blue, there in the distance... do you see it? An island there
awaits. You travel closer and can see it is lush and green. Allow your cloud to bring
you closer...
The cloud makes no sense to Goerhim's drifting consciousness, but he ignores it,
focusing solely on the thought of growing things. The winding thread of Galena's
voice sends him further and further away from present reality; and he doesn't even
notice when it dies away. Neither do the soft footsteps of Hyardoel leaving make any
impression upon him at all, as he finally falls asleep.