(Archive) Rorgan and the Wolf\'s Fleece Part VII
From the archives of the Gondorian
The adventure continues...
*Note - log submitted by Rorgan*
Healer\'s Tent
The atmosphere within the light walled tent is surprisingly cozy. Neatly made cots smothered in blankets and bedding line one wall with enough space in between to offer easy access to their occupants. A small, sturdy looking table with a few camp chairs surrounding it is against the other, with a large chest to one side. Strewn across the table, in an oddly neat display of disarray are bandages of many sizes, and several healing concoctions in various states of preparation. A small fire crackles soothingly in the cleared center of the floor, a pot of water aboil constantly over it. To the rear of the structure, a hanging of blankets sections off a small room behind with some privacy, and overall, the tang of herbs is in the air.
Contents:
Colinor
Melethron
Baeden
Maeghan
Kerowyn
Rorgan
[Melethron(#29496)] The early morning sky lays full of the sunlight unlike it has in the past few days where the skies were covered in the inky gray clouds fortelling a long day of miserable rain. Yea though the early morning hours are upon them, the Rohir and the Gondorman alike have risen and set upon their daily business, the morning watch relieving the now tired guardsmen of the night, healers taking to bed where others have risen from a good nights rest, so on and so forth.
The flap of the healers tent opens to give entrance for a tall man of noble build. With cloak pushed back, the silver swan upon his chest is made apparent to all within, as is the winding bandage of white upon the left arm. Though he appears wounded, evidenced by the bandage and the lightest limp to his walk, Melethron still refuses to rest within the walls of this place, but does stop by from time to time to make the healers happy and keep them from tailing him about camp with a needless string of annoyances.
Laying upon his cot, blanket still stubbornly pulled up to his waist, sits Rorgan. He holds a book in his hands -- an aging book with the tan leather binding turning dark brown in places -- and seems to be quite engrossed in its contents, as barely a glance is given to the knight as he enters the tent.
[Kerowyn(#10288)] At this hour, as all others, Healers of both countries roam the tent, pausing here and there to tend this man or that, standing over the fire to stir the teas nearly always aboil there, fixing blankets or wrapping bandages. Amongst them a tall woman walks, the deep richness of her leather riding clothes a contrast to the silks and satins some insist upon wearing even in this place. Her own steps veer from the bandage wrappers towards the tailor as well, down the denter of the rows of cots.
Tathrin sits off to the side busying herself with some task or another when the Swan Knight enteres..she rises.\"Do you need tending m\'lord??
[Melethron(#29496)] Turning his head towards the voice of the speaker, Melethron\'s hand rises to tug at the bandages upon his left arm, \"I would like for one to remove this infernal thing,\" he mutters, \"It itches.\" Then a sigh comes from his lips, \"But I doubt a healer would bother listening to the cares of her patient.\" His voice conveys the hint of irratation at being in this place, along with the slight scowl upon the lips.
Tathrin hides a smile and gestures to a stool. \"why dont\' you have a seat m\'lord and I shall see what I can do
Kerowyn catches the voice of the Gondorian knight and one slender brow arches upwards. \"Not listen to the whims of our patients? And perhaps you woudl listen to the counsel of one who would shout lay down your weapons upon the battlefield sir?\" Her voice is silken soft, with the clear, unaccented Westron few of her country hold. \"Such is the counsel you would have us hear, for death is nearly a surety in either case.\"
[Melethron(#29496)] Passing by the words of the Girithlin lady, Melethron turns upon the Rohir healer, \"Gladly would I lay down my weapon my lady, rather than continue in this endless shedding of blood and loss of life.\" His tone is nuetral, but only just so, \"But to do that would ensure the victory of the Shadow and the horde of Mordor which I cannot allow so long as there is strength within my body.\" Heat finds it\'s way into the words of the Swan-Knight, each passing syllable rising in strength though the effort to hold back the full sway of his anger is apparent upon his face. Finally he turns once more to Tathrin, crosses the distance to the stool and takes a seat, never taking his eyes from the Rohir healer.
The chuckle emitted from the tailor is a clear indication that he has become distracted from his reading, and in confirmation of this, Rorgan lays his book face down upon his lap, bright eyes watching the exchange now as many others who remain in the healing tent do -- certainly this could prove to be the best entertainment since that Gondorian lieutenant threw the tailor\'s food across the tent and left the mess for others to clean up.
Seeing the ire rise in the Bragollach, Rorgan finally speaks, \"Lady Kerowyn, if you could spare a moment.\" His voice, while still soft and slow, has regained much in the way of its usual timbre over these last few days.
Kerowyn\'s clothes are perhaps are perhaps a bit wrinkled, her hair perhaps a bit less than neat, yet when her shoulders square, she is, indeed, a Lady in ever way, regal, the brow still arched seeming so in pure pride, the tiny ghost of a smile that is never far from her lips taking them over as Rorgan speaks, and her own attention is drawn from knight to tailor. \"Of course.\"
Without moving to push the blanket away from his injured leg, Rorgan remarks, \"I believe my wound may be in need of some attention.\" But what would he know? He still refuses to look at what has been done to save the appendage, as if in his mind, at least, it has already been amputated. He smiles vaguely at Kerowyn, picking up the book on his lap and turning his head aside to look at the text, \"If you would be so kind, sister-to-be.\"
[Melethron(#29496)] As Tathrin just looks from Rohir to Gondorian, Melethron looks to Rorgan then back to Kerowyn for a moment then rises from the stool muttering to himself about wasting time coming here, all the while moving to the exit and nearly bowling over two healers in the process. After passing from the tent, the Knight dissapears into the morning crowd many giving way to the foul mood which is displayed upon his face.
[Kerowyn(#10288)] The bowled over healers stare after the departing man, mouths agape for a moment before merely shaking their heads and returning to whatever business they had entered for. For her part, Kerowyn merely sighs softly, settling herself onto a convenient stool and giving one of her Lassablodmaegdens a silent nod of instruction before falling into quiet tending. \"Are all of your kin so stubborn?\" The question is as soft as ever, though there is a hint of perhaps laughter behind it.
\"
Kerowyn chuckles softly, not pausing in her work as she shakes her head, \"
all me merely Kero. It is a bit less,\" she wrinkles her nose, \"