(Archive) At the Healer\'s Office

Elendor - Thursday, March 16, 2000, 3:32 PM

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Valgrimm straightens up, his head pulling up to look down at the guard. His eyes grow wide and his head pulls back on his neck when he sees the Lady Ivriniel peek her head out the door crack. However, when the scent of the woundwort hits his nose, his face scrunches up violently, and he sneezes quickly, not once, not twice, but three times in succession. He tries to drop to one knee, but another sneeze drives him down faster, and his kneecap strikes the stone floor with a loud clap. The pain, visible now on his face, is seen for a scant minute before he drops his head in respect.

Laughter tinkles as Lady Ivriniel says, \"The smell of woundwort is quite a nasty thing when you are unused to its aroma. I should think in time you will be as unaware of the smell as I am.\" Handing the young man a white linen hankerchief drawn from the pocket of her gown she nods her hand with a gentle smile, \"Now rise and let us have some quiet conversation. My interest has been piqued since we first met in the Tower of Imrazor.\" Walking back through the door of her office she says over her shoulder, \"Are you finding everything alright since you arrived?\"

Valgrimm tries to smile, his white teeth showing through his mouth for a moment, but before he can finish the expression, he throws his head back again, and brings it forward with another violent sneeze. Grabbing the handkerchief the Lady has offerred with a deceptively fast hand, he buries his nose in the cloth. Refusing to truly blow his nose, he instead sniffs in, inhaling quickly through his nose.

He follows the lady into the room, and into the overpowering stench of the herb. His nose scrunched up like a balled up piece of paper, he nods slightly. His voice booms out across the room like a great horn, \"Yes....Lady. I ..umm.. have not had the ..ahh.. opportunity to meet many people. I ...ummm.. have been busy preparing for Lady ..ahh.. Aerewen\'s arrival.\"

The sound of Valgrimm reacting again to the heavy odor of woundwort in the room, Ivriniel walks to the Northern window and raises the sash, a cool, cleansing night breeze flutters the drapes as it rushes in. Pausing long enough to pour a glass of the fine Dol Amroth white wine, Ivriniel raises eyes skyward to the height of the man and asks, \"Would you care for a glass to sip on while we chat?\"

Valgrimm shakes his head, again violently as his dark black hair shakes upon his head. His deep voice booms out at the same time, sounding like a giant warbling bird as his words fade in and out with his shaking head. \"Oh no Lady, I don\'t drink. Thank you though.\"

When the man finally stops, a few stray strands of hair lie upon his forehead, dipping down in front of his grey innocent eyes. He flicks them away with a practiced flick of the hand, and stares intently at the Lady, looking out the window from his vantage to see what her eyes are spying.

Amusement alights the silvery grey orbs of the Princess as the innocent young man before her flicks back the strands from his forehead and gives her such an earnest stare. Kindness warms the face of the elder Imrazor as she motions to the chair across from her desk, \"Please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable.\"

Taking a sip of the finest wine made in all of Gondor, her attention never strays from the giant young man. A variety of emotions flicker across the expression of Ivriniel as the silence in the room looms longer. Finally, she takes a seat in the carven chair and sets the glass of wine down, folding her hands in her lap and leaning back comfortably. A soft smile curves her lips as she says, \"Now. Tell me what I can help you with in your quest for healing knowledge.\"

Valgrimm drops into the chair the lady motions to, falling like a bird shot from the sky. All his weight falls upon the chair and it groans with a pained sound, but holds him nonetheless. A faint smile crosses his lips as he watches the Lady sipping her drink, the translucent liquid lapping softly against her gentle lips.

He collects himself in the chair, like a nervous school boy before the headmaster. He brings his arms up to his side, his fingertips almost brushing the floor. His voice, though softer than before, still reverbates around him, the wine in the Lady\'s glass actually rippling with the sound. \"Well ..umm.. Lady. I ..ahh.. was training with Lady Aearwen. But ..umm.. I had to come get her house ready. I ..umm.. thought that while I was not busy ..ahh.. I would ..umm.. come here and receive more training. Hmmm.... I am in your hands.\" Valgrimm scratches his head as if trying to remember something, but drops his hand quickly when his eyes see the Lady before him.

The slender fingers of the lady, stained by her life\'s work with plants, softly rub the strands of embroidery adorning her gown of light rose.The shiny satiny material shimmering in the light of the candle as she leans forward to rest one arm on the desk. Assessing the man as he turns, collects himself and still struggles with nervousness as his words hesitate and begin again.

A dimple deepens her cheek as she rests her chin in the palm of her hand and listens to the recitation of Valgrimm. When his halting words cease, her eyes twinkle, \"That is a very dangerour offer to be making with little forethought. I could have you send on many a quest in search of plants not found here in Gondor.\" A soft laugh slips from pink lips as she amends her words ere the young man thinks her serious, \"That was merely a jest, my amusement is known to arise at the most inopportune times. Although, I do have to say, there are many plants in other areas that I pay dearly to obtain.\"

He brings his giant fist up to his lips, covering his mouth a bit too late. After clearing his throat, his cheeks now a bright red, he tries to speak. The deep voice weakened by the coughing fit. \"Lady... If you feel that ..umm.. I need to gather rare herbs ..umm.. I will do so. But ..umm.. I think the Lady Aearwen would ..umm.. not like to hear I have gone missing.\"

With a matter of fact expression on her face, Ivriniel rises from her seat and goes to the shelves and moves first one bottle and then another. Picking up one she holds it up to the light and smells the cork and then sets it back down. Finally her fingers close around an amber bottle and she gently shakes the brew inside and removes the cork from the opening. A silver spoon is retrieved a drawer and before Valgrimm can utter one word in protest, the Master healer has poured a full tablespoon of cherry bark infusion. \"Here, swallow this. It will clear the residue in your throat from the woundwort. Tis a simple brew of cherry bark brewed with a bit of honey added, the best thing for a cough, save that of Marriuam, but the taste of that is not as pleasant.\" Calm, sincere eyes rest on the young man, her newest apprentice.

He reaches out for the spoon and takes it from the Lady\'s hand. His hand shakes a bit, spilling a tiny drop of the concoction onto the floor. But he jams the spoon into his mouth, loudly slurping the liquid down. He bends at the waist, extending his arm to wipe away the drop upon the floor, and replies to the Lady, \"Thank you. ..Umm.. Perhaps sometime you could ..ahh.. show me how to make that. ..umm.. I always seem to get ..ahh.. things in my throat.\"

As Valgrimm takes the spoon from her hand, a shocked expression flits over the alabaster loveliness of her face before Ivriniel clears her own throat, stifling a chuckle that threatened to spill from her lips. Popping the cork back into the bottle and replacing it on the shelf her words are tinged with an odd mix of sincerity and amusement as she says, \"Tis very easy to make such a brew. The tender bark of the cherry tree is shredded and brewed in hot water, much like making a cup of hot tea, only on a grander scale. I normally let it steep until a dark brown colour is achieved. After the bark is removed a dollop of honey is added to make it more palatable.\"

Valgrimm bends completely, crouching down to brush at the spot of medicine upon the stone floor. His big finger dabs at the drop, the adhesion causing the liquid to cling to his skin. A tiny fleck of some unnamed herb upon the floor has been partly submerged with the drop, but Valgrimm does not notice this. He brings the drop to his mouth, sucking it in, and his eyes again shoot open.

Surprised by the taste of the tainted drop, he jumps up, slamming his head against the edge of the huge desk. His sudden movement jars the desk and bumps it a few inches to the side. Before the bump can even begin to rise on his scalp, he grabs for his head, and falls backwards to the floor. His balance lost, he lies upon his back on the floor, his head rolling around a bit from the hard desk.

Still arranging the many potions on the shelf, Ivriniel is unaware of the doings of Valgrim until the sound of his head slamming against her desk captures her attention. Whirling around quickly, her hand drops a glass beaker to the floor sending glass shards sparkling everywhere.

Darting around the glass as best possible and still hearing the crunching beneath her slippers, Ivriniel kneels beside the fallen man with concern marring her brow. Gently her fingers glide into his soft hair and probe his scalp, bending her neck to peer under the hair as she raises the long strands of dark hair. Soft words are spoken as the experience of her many years keeps a gentle conversation going to distract him from her actions, probing until she finds the injured area.

Valgrimm lies upon the floor, letting the Lady attend to him. His head shakes back and forth a bit, making it difficult to find any type of bump upon his scalp. His eyes shut tight, an expression of frustration painted clearly upon his face. The barely audible sigh that escapes his mouth hisses over his lips, rolling out into the air, mixing with the woundword and salty sea air.

Ivriniel\'s probing fingers light upon not just one bump, but another as well. The second is clearly not from the desk, it being an older wound, though still fresh to the week. His dark hair falls over her fingers as it runs over his scalp. Valgrimm opens his eyes again slowly, and out of the corner of one eye spys the broken glass shattered upon the floor. He sighs again, closing his eyes to the mayhem.

Puzzled by the discovery of not one lump upon the scalp of the man, Ivriniel lightly runs her fingers through his silken hair again and then asks softly, \"Did you have a compress of Arnica applied to this older injury?\" Kneeling by the man now, ignoring the shards of glass nearby she espies his eyes opening slowly and then closing quickly. Her fingers slide from his hair and her voice is one of determination as she says, \"Valgrimm, open your eyes.\"

The softness of her voice is barely a whisper as she says, \"Even though we are newly acquainted, I will ask several things of you before we continue this healing apprenticeship. First of all, I ask for your undying loyalty and alligance. That should go without saying, but I speak of it to make sure that we understand one another.\" A gentle smile curves her lips as she continues, \"Secondly, trust....your trust in me and mine in you. For us to have a successful relationship as teacher and mentor, we must have trust.

Rising from her position on the floor her feet pick there way through the glass and she retrieves an old tin and pops it open. A dollop of thick ointment is dipped out and quickly she kneels back down and applies it to both of the spots found in Valgrimms head.\"Now, thirdly, I would ask that you relax. I could be wrong in this assessment, but my first inclination is that nervousness makes you more accident prone. Is this correct?\"

Valgrimm seems puzzled at the Lady\'s first question, his brows furrowing and his lips pursing into a straight line. A deep hum rises from his chest, interrupted by his voice. \"I don\'t ..umm.. know what that bump..... Wait.. Yes, that was from ..umm.. a vase that fell upon my head. ..Umm.. I was cleaning up the Lady Aearwen\'s house.\"

His head nodding, Valgrimm smiles as the lady speaks her three conditions. His voice again echoes into the room, the tone more relaxing and quiet than previously. \"Yes Lady. ..umm.. You of course have my loyalty, and my trust. As for the nervousness, ..well... I can only try. But I of course will.\"

Delicate looking but deceptively strong is the hand that Ivriniel offers to Valgrimm, \"Then we have an agreement.\", no question in her voice, a statement of fact. Rising once again from beside the man, she picks up a clean linen towel and wipes the ointment from her fingers. Silvery grey orbs twinkle as she gives him a sly grin, \"Now, if you would be so kind as to remove yourself from my floor -without- further injury on the broken glass, I shall see to having someone sweep it up.\"

Valgrimm rises to his feet, pushing off the floor with his strong arms and hands. He rises to a crouching position, and very carefully, and slowly, stands to his full height. With a watchful eye on the glass, he faces the healer, and bows at the waist. His voice almost shouts out again, \"Thank you Lady. I will return tomorrow, so you can retire for the evening.\"

Standing straight again, he spins upon a single foot, and for the first time tonight, succeeds in maintaining his balance. He walks towards the door, opens it, and strides through the hospital beds for the front door. Rubbing his head the entire way, he brings his hand down to open the door, getting the goopy medicine from his head on the doorknob before he departs.