================== Eldarin Calendar in Sindarin ===================
IC time is: Late Morning About 11:46 AM
IC day is: Orithil Moon-day
IC date is: 7 Echuir Stirring
Moon phase: Waning Crescent VISIBLE
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 4 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor TA 3028
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RL time: Tue May 06 19:55:33 2003
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(Ignore IC date - it's 1 IC day after previous scene)
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.
Almost directly overhead, the sun shines down on Lorien. A few random rays
slide between the covering concealing branches and bring light to the Field
Hospital. One thin column creeps slowly across Lothdaimoth's shoulder, flicks
his ear to brilliance and then fades behind a mass of leaves. The minister's
eyes are open, as they have been more and more often since the cave-in; but
they stare off into the middle distance, not seeming to notice anyone passing.
And several people are passing; healers seeing to their patients, visitors,
attendants.
The patient rests with open eyes, and the healthy elf appears to sleep beside
him. Caelwen's fingers are loosely tangled with Lothaimoth's still, even as
bright curls snarl and tangle with themselves and the grasses. Her body is
slumped tiredly into the ground. One slice of light moves up her shoulder, over
her temple, revealing a line of concealed mithril, ere the breeze shivers
through and it is snuffed.
Lothdaimoth stirs a little, his hand moving within Caelwen's. And it is almost
as if this is the first time he has noticed she holds his. Slowly, painfully,
he turns his head to one side on its pillow and looks at her. "Caelwen?" he
says, voice coming out in a dry-throated croak.
Fiery lashes flick up, and without any other change to her expression, Caelwen
stares into Lothdaimoth's eyes for a long while. Charcoal, with green-- she
just watches as a bit of time passes, as they once did not so long ago.
Her fingers tighten in his, and she raises herself to a sitting position
creakily. "You need a drink," she declares in a voice somewhat hoarse as well,
and seems to be speaking as much to herself as to him. She pushes back a mass
of tangles ere reaching out for a cup.
Lothdaimoth's face tightens at Caelwen's movement and he shuts his eyes.
Beneath the terrible bruising, his face seems whiter; and his hand clenches
abruptly around hers. For a second, he lies very still, seeming not even to
breathe; and then he relaxes a little and whispers, "Water."
Caelwen takes a deep breath through her nose, as if trying to will cool air
into her foggy mind. The cup is taken up, half-full of water, and she brings it
to him, a reed touched to his lips. "Drink, guren," she urges, and adds to
remind him. "You are thirsty."
Anarane sweeps into the room quietly, stepping just inside the small clearing
to remain out of the way. Silent she stands for some time, watching the healers
at work. Tilting her head slightly, she peers around a small group of elleth
speaking amongst themselves and spies Caelwen giving drink to an especially
injured patient. She makes a slow approach, carefully tying back her hair as
she speaks softly to her friend.. "How is he?"
The minister's lips part for the reed-straw. Automatically, he tries to lift
his head to swallow easier, but almost at once lays it back down, spitting out
the straw. Closing his eyes tightly, he swallows convulsively. White-knuckled
hands clutch at the pallet.
Caelwen untangles her fingers from Lothdaimoth's to lay it along the side of
his face, cool and gentle in the touch. Her eyes shut again, and she bends over
to touch her brow to the uninjured portion of his, and murmurs in quiet dignity
to Anarane, "I think he is in pain, and should have something for it."
Anarane frowns as she watches him choke back the pain. She nods once, and steps
to the nearby group of healers. After a few quiet moments, Anarane returns,
kneeling beside of him..opposite of Caelwen. In her hands she holds a small
cup.. "Feverfew.." she whispers.."This will help a little with the pain.. if we
can get him to sip it." She reaches out, lightly touching Caelwen's arm.. "I
have also asked that the prepare a tea, with Mullein.. it's a gentle and
relaxing sedative... Would you like to help him sip, mellon?"
Cautiously, Lothdaimoth opens his eyes again, first just a slit and then with a
bit of relief etching itself across his face, wider. "Head hurts," he whispers.
And later. "What happened?" His gaze slides towards Anarane and the cup she
holds.
Caelwen's eyes are quite close to one of Lothdaimoth's when he opens it, and
she sits up again, reaching for this new cup. "Thank you. More sleep will help
him."
Her fingers shift against his cheek. "You are hurt, melda. Drink this. It will
help your thirst and help you sleep." A second reed brushes the Minister's lips.
A groan grates from behind shut lips at Caelwen's sudden movement back and
Lothdaimoth's eyes shut again abruptly, tiny beads of sweat popping out on his
suddenly clammy forehead. "Stop," he says hoarsely, holding to the edges of his
bed as if it is the side of mountain he is about to slide off of.
Anarane murmurs quietly, soft words escaping as she exhales slowly. She reaches
out, carefully touching one of his clenched hands as she leans in closer. "The
tea will help ease the pain, mellon.. will allow you to rest. Only a few sips
for now, and you will feel it ease.."
Caelwen stills, her eyes intent on the Minister, head bowing a little. Her hand
even ceases it's movement. The touch grows closer, more than skin to skin, and
after Anarane explains about the tea, the young Indiri whispers, "How did I
hurt you?"
Eyes still tight shut, hands still holding to the edges of the mat as a
drowning man to a lifeline; Lothdaimoth opens his mouth just enough to mutter
through gritted teeth. "Didn't hurt. Everything moves." The muscles in his jaw
bunch and loosen, and he starts to relax bit by bit. Cautiously, he opens one
eyelid a bare sliver, then the other and relaxes even more. "Don't move," he
begs them.
Anarane is paused, all that moves are her eyes and lips as she speaks to both
Lothdaimoth and Caelwen..even moreso to herself "The most subtle of movements,
a breath.. and the vibration makes his muscles tighten in pain.." She closes
her eyes a moment, whispering to him again. "The cup that Caelwen holds.. holds
a tea that will stop these spasms of pain, mellon." She smiles, opening her
eyes to peer down to him. Her voice is still a whisper as she continues.. "It
is so strong, that they limit only 2 cups a day.. but I am sure I could sneak
you a third... If you can withstand the pain, long enough for a few sips.. the
pain in your head, and in your body.. the nausea.. will disappear."
She glances, a mere blink of her eyes toward Caelwen. She holds the cup with
the brew, if Lothdaimoth agrees to try and drink. Anarane begins singing
softly.. lilting tones as taught to her by her trainers in healing.. her hand
never leaving his.. her body otherwise remaining quiet and still.
Caelwen scarcely breathes as she watches him, all tense action packed into a
thin, not-vibrating form. "Think you can drink a little? To help?" The reed she
still holds to his lips, of the first cup Anarane gave. Comfort seeps from her
fingers, steeping like tea in water.
Lothdaimoth shakes his head, the tiniest movement from side to side, and a
grimace of frustration pulls at his lips. "Not that," he says and then gives up
trying to explain and opens his mouth for the straw. After a few careful
swallows, he tries once more, slowly. "Eyes hurt. Things move... I am falling."
As an explanation, it lacks something, possibly.
"Good," Caelwen coos as he sips. "Sleep," she adds, softer, and sways briefly
toward him. "It could be like... a cradle? Belegil?"
Anarane frowns at his explanation.. she nods to Caelwen as he sips the
concoction.. "I will see that the other healers know.. Rest tonight,
Lothdaimoth.. open your eyes only if you have to..." She smiles softly.. "I
will see that you are well cared for tonight and tomorrow, mellon"
All but imperceptibly muscles sag into stillness. Lothdaimoth's eyelids flicker
closed, open again a little, shut completely. One hand moves vaguely towards
Caelwen, then the needs of the hroa overwhelm the spirit again, dragging him
down into the healing mists of sleep.