Bathhouse Blues

Scene in progress.... A dark afternoon and Zaira has walked out of a tent in the middle of the Gondor Host Encampment the tent is a bath house for women only. Her hair is wet and she has just walked right into Gurtir, who was talking to Ceredir. Midhwen is feeding a carrot to a mare.

\"No, sir, there is...\" Ceredir starts forward to try to prevent the collision,

one arm reaching out uselessly. \"Are you hurt, ma\'am?\" he asks

automatically, thenlooks to Gurtir. \"Nothing to report, Captain. Our path

ahead so far is clear.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] Midhwen croons to the horse, offering a piece of carrot in

the face of insistent nudging. She starts to make her way back towards the

Healer\'s encampment, catching the moment at which Zaira walks into the

Captain.

\"Good day to you all. Zaira, the baths are set up then?\" There\'s a plaintive

edge to the last comment, it seems the Ephalkhir healer is not the only

one eager for the feminine comforts offered.

[Zaira(#20676)]

Zaira looks a little stunned as she manages to be rocked back by the solidity

of a human being being in her way. However, thanks to Gurtir\'s quick

reactions, she keeps from falling into the dust. Gingerly removing herself

with a steadily rising blush, she retreats for Midhwen\'s form, putting

distance between her newly cleaned body and dirty, nasty men. Ick!

\"I am alright, my Lord,\" she says awkwardly. \"Forgive my clumsiness.\" Perhaps

gratefully, she whirls to the other Healer and nods. \"I just finished

setting it up, and my mother sent fresh supplies to last us for a while.

So the soaps are new and the towels,\" she murmurs, keeping her voice down

lest the men be tempted to use the women\'s treasures.

[Gurtir(#30678)]

\"Hello, Midhwen!\", Gurtir offers the Cuthalion apprentice as she

approaches them, eyes narrowing in mock-reproach at the healers, \"That is

why the wagons were so vexingly slow then. Hmph.\" He shakes his head.

Glancing at Ceredir, he offers a nod at the man\'s report, \"And how

did things go in Minas Tirith?\"

\"Good morning,\" the Scout greets the women as well, once Zaira\'s balance is

regained. \"There is a bathhouse with towels and soap?\" Ceredir\'s eyes go

round in wonder. \"How is the water fetched and heated for such? Is the

supply of wood sufficient between here and our destination? I am certain

the Quartermaster would be interested in such....\"

\"Sir.\" The Scout addresses Gurtir next. \"We obtained the supplies, as you see,

and the Lady Laeraelin\'s message was delivered. As for the men you sent, I

do not know if their errand was achieved.\"

[Zaira(#20676)]

Zaira\'s eyes turn suspiciously to Ceredir, as if jealously guarding something

of great import. \"There is -not- a bathhouse for the men,\" she says, the

prickly nature of her House coming to the foreground a bit. \"As for what

the women do to ensure their clenliness, it is nothing of your concern,

Scout. There is a veil drawn over certain aspects of the female world, and

you would do well not to disturb it.\"

Mrrrreoaw-Hissss!

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"My eternal thanks to your mother then.\" Matching her volume

to Zaira\'s, the news brings a wide smile to Midhwen\'s face. \"It is a

luxury I was prepared to do without, but I am relieved the lady Laeraelin

considers it important as well.\"

\"Necessary weight, Captain, for cleanliness is of paramount importance for

all healers.\" She blinks at the barrage of questions from Ceredir, looking

back towards Zaira for support. \"I personally do not know, but I am sure

lady Azrabar prepared for it.\"

[Gurtir(#30678)]

\"Ahh, well. I hope to recieve word briefly...\" the Captain\'s eyes

turn wide at Zaira\'s response. Holding back laugher, then regards Midhwen

anew, \"Yes, clean feet are definitely paramount to tending to wounds.\"

Shaking his head once more, he turns. And he, as Captain, is not in the

same condition as his men though devoid of a bath house, he is as clean

as one can be.

\"I bid you farewell.\", says Gurtir, ere striding away.

\"Your pardon, ladies, but as Deputy Quartermaster, the use of supplies such as

wood and water is very much my business and my duty to report to the

Quartermaster. I understand the need for cleanliness, but hair...\" Ceredir

glances to Zaira\'s wet locks, \"may be kept under a cap to keep it clean.

\"And hands and faces can be washed without much use of resources. But I

will of course speak with the Master healer on the matter. The

Quartermaster will demand a full report of this from me.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"I am sure that the Master Healer would not have approved a

measure she considered wasteful.\" Midhwen answers quickly, before Zaira

can herself, giving the other woman a gentle push towards the tents. \"Go,

before you catch cold. How would it look if we were required to tend to

one of our own, before any fighting occurred?\"

Waiting until she has left, her attention returns to the Scout. \"While it may

be a drain on resources, there are many reasons why a bathhouse is

beneficial to this campaign. As I am sure lady Laeraelin will explain to

you.\"

\"Oh, I am certain that she will, and I am equally certain that the

Quartermaster will vehemently disagree with her defintion of a drain on

resources and on what is beneficial to the campaign. You see, ma\'am, he

will say that clean hair has no bearing on healing abilities and that we

will be hard pressed in the coming weeks and must conserve supplies. Or at

least he told me such just the other day. Repeatedly.\"

Ceredir sighs. \"Ever am I caught between these things.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] About to answer the Scout sharply, the cold expression on

Midhwen\'s face softens a little at Ceredir\'s last comment.

\"While you may consider the issue of cleanliness unimportant or easily

solved, it is not so simple. We must avoid tainting both the healing

spaces and any medicines we concoct.\"

\"Then there is the question of morale.\"

\"Far be it from me, my lady, to deny you the necessities of cleanliness or the

comforts of the bath,\" Ceredir says, not without sympathy. \"But it is not

my word that carries weight in this matter. I need a report--how much

water, how much wood daily. At the very least, even if the Quartermaster

agrees to this, he will need those numbers in order to plan the rationing

of two vital and often scarce supplies.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"As I said, this you must consult with the Master Healer.\"

Midhwen looks over at the baths longingly, it seems the Quartermaster will

be a very unpopular man in certain parts of the encampment if he raises

any problems. \"Since neither of us can resolve the issue for now, shall we

put it aside?\"

\"I think,\" Ceredir smiles now, \"that is indeed the best course of action.

Would you please tell the Master Healer I seek an audience with her? And

of course, I do need to speak to her of supplies, as that is specifically

my responsibility of late--supplies for the healers.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"When I see her, I shall.\" Midwhen shakes her head, a quick

glance going towards the tent of the woman in question. \"If I could, I

would spare her the worry, but this is her sphere. A woman in her

condition should be careful.\"

\"An important one and we are all grateful for the supply line that has been

established, it has saved many a life.\"

Ceredir sighs now. \"I am not looking forward to my discussion with the Master

Healer, but ...her condition or not...morale of the healers or not..I can

tell you the Quartermaster will not budge on this issue. It is my guess he

will ration you each a bowl of cold water to wash with each morning. My

apologies.\"

\"But...as for the supplies, already, my lady, we are too deep into Ithilien to

race back to Minas Tirith for fresh stock. Every bit that we have now

counts--it must be hoarded and preserved for future use, for there is no

longer any turning back. And that means...wood. Water. The trees you see

about us cannot be cut down. There is no time. The water...we do not trust

most streams that flow through this land. We all must suffer, I am afraid,

and morale must be drawn from sources other than...\" He grimaces

briefly...\"clean hair.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"I understand your stance, scout.\" She gestures towards the

tents. \"While there are experienced healers, there are also those for whom

Osgiliath was a first taste of this life.\"

A wry smile crosses her face. \"I include myself in this. But not all of them

grew up on tales of Ithilien. Some small taste of comfort or home...it is

reassuring.\"

\"Comforts of home?!\" Under the mask he wears still from being out on patrol, Ceredir\'s eyes are red with fatigue and from hours on end of being in the wilderness. \"My lady, forgive me,\" he replies angrily now, \"but this is not a trip into the land of anyone\'s dreams, past or present or future! Look about you! All around us are areas where we could easily be trapped, lured into an ambush, horses slain, wagons set afire, and the women captured! We go to war, my lady, not to a pleasure trip where there are comforts of home, and anyone who thinks that the comforts of home belong on this journey has no business being here!\"

Ceredir draws a sharp breath, then exhales a puff of white into the bitter air.

\"Forgive me. I have only your safety in mind.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"You think to lecture me on the dangers of Ithilien?\" The lady\'s tone rivals the wind in its coldness, the words just as cutting as the swirling currents of air. \"Listen carefully scout. My father serves in Faramir\'s company, my brothers alongside him, just as you do. In fact, there are few of my closest kin who do not swear oaths to serve in the Company of Ithilien.\"

\"None of the healers within expect a pleasure jaunt, we are here for the same reason the soldiers are: to serve Gondor. To preserve the lives of those who defend, just as the men of our families do.\" A moment of silence follows her last statement, some of the stiffness leaving her expression. \"If my earlier words misled you, I apologise. Of course, if those supplies are needed, no one will argue with the Quartermaster. I only wished to express what it means to some.\"

\"I have no wish to lecture you on anything my lady,\" Ceredir\'s reply is given in a less harsh tone. \"And I, in turn, apologize for any anger that I spoke with. It seems to me we are speaking at odds and yet arguing the same thing. For you must well have heard it from your kin: Ithilien, though she be the Garden of Gondor, has been made a harsh and unforgiving land. The Rangers teach us these things day after day, hounding it into us, in fact, and now I repeat them to you: Never forget that the enemy is not across a border but here, expect an ambush at all times, find danger in every step, forego whatever comfort you can today so that you may still have it on hand tomorrow--and maybe, just maybe, you will live to see another day here.\"

The Scout looks up, apologetic. \"It is not a lecture, my lady. It is what I repeat to myself when I wake up in the morning here, when I find the time to sleep, before I set one foot in front of the other. It is never far from my mind.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"Tempers will fray when people are nervous...or vigilant.\" Her gaze lingers eastwards, tearing her eyes away with a shudder. \"Now, perhaps this time we will truly let this be issue be settled by the Master Healer and Quartermaster.\"

\"Tell me, the wound on your hand. Is it healing as it should?\"

\"Aye, but the Quartermaster will have me convince the Master Healer, I\'m afraid. So it will be my business in the end.\" Then, as the healer shudders, Ceredir shakes his head. Do not look that way. It is best not to dwell on it, but just to watch the things directly around you.\"

Pulling off a pair of dark grey wool gloves now, the Scout extends his left hand. \"It heals well enough, I believe, though the cold does it no good and sends pain through my hand.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"Perhaps. However, as you said, we cannot forget what lies that way, in case we become complacent in our actions.\" Without removing her own gloves, Midhwen takes Ceredir\'s hand within her own to examine the cut. Soon enough she lets go with a smile. \"While it would be better if you could keep it warm, it is now well on its way to healing completely.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

A tent of blues and whites spits forth a dour figure, clad by tunic, trousers, and polished boots. His body is a map of bandages, a sword at waist.

A Captain of Amroth, this one, whose eyes glitter youthfully.

\"Then it is due to your careful attention,\" Ceredir smiles, pulling his glove back on as he speaks. \"But you are correct--we cannot become complacent either. The Scout glances over to Bor as the Knight-Captain emerges from a tent, but no salute is given the officer, only a nod.

[Bor(#30834)]

The Knight-Captain\'s storm-ridden gaze scans the field. He catches the Scout\'s nod and his eyes settle there, sternly, unbending.

\"Come here, Ceredir.\"

\"Your pardon, my lady,\" Ceredir first tells Midhwen, taking his leave and crossing to the Knight Captain. \"Yes, sir.\" Still no salute given.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"What do the forests whisper, Scout?\" asks the Knight-Captain, wincing as his hands are wrapped at his back. \"I am not a man of these lands.\"

Behind his mask, Ceredir\'s eyes narrow, though not at Bor, but at the east. \"Silence, a bitter wind, cold. No sign of the enemy when there should be sign. The Scouts, at least, were uneasy from this, though I cannot speak for the Rangers. We -should- be spotting them, there -should- be patrols out. We are too big to ignore. The talk is...well, most of us suspect an ambush.\"

[Morwenn(#24368)]

There is activity everywhere in the encampment, and many go cloaked in the dim chill, so someone garbed in grey on the edge of the camp is hardly remarkable. That the person is apparently female is. That she is apparently set on finding an untrampled patch of ground is perhaps... disturbing.

But there it is. The slender woman slips to the side of a tree, which she touches in seeming wonder with ungloved hands. In the next moment, she falls to her knees, and then fully face down on the cold ground, arms outstretched and shoulder shaking.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"Do not attempt to delve into the mind of our foe, such thinking will only further twist your purpose. We follow our own path, and if they come upon us...\"

\"Then so they come, and so we fight,\" intones the Bragollach.

\"Yes sir, though it is my job to help search for them and alert our hosts to their presence,\" Ceredir shrugs his reply. \"Yet, ever is Ithilien like this, I am told.\"

[Morwenn(#24368)]

After a few moments, the prostrate figure rights herself and removes something from her wrist: a cuff of gleaming red gold. She takes up a handful of earth and begins rubbing it vigorously over the surface of the wide cuff, every careful pass making dark the carefully etched designs in the flat surface.

Thus does the earth of Ithilien, the soil of the once-verdant Garden, bring to life the bracelet belonging to Morwen Taidonnen Mormegil, and her grubby face is streaked with tears she seems not to even notice herself shedding.

[Midhwen(#29054)] After watching Ceredir go over to greet the Knight-Captain, Midhwen uses the opportunity to get her bearings in the camp. Suddenly, her eyes light upon a figure at the edge of the camp, the woman\'s sudden collapse almost seeming to tear a shout from her throat as she runs.

\"Morwenn!\"

[Bor(#30834)]

Bor\'s eyes harden on Ceredir and he makes to speak...

But the cry from Midhwen, and the name therein, draws his attention away. The prostrate figure is evaluated warily for a moment, before he sets off.

[Morwenn(#24368)]

But the girl makes no sign at all that she has heard Midhwen she continues at her task rubbing dirt into every engraved line on the cuff. Morwen seems almost in a trance, so intent is she on what she is doing. The world around her has, for the moment at least, ceased to exist.

Ceredir, too, pauses for a moment, eyes narrowing on the girl before he strides forward, following Bor. \"Is she taken ill?\" he calls to Midhwen.

[Midhwen(#29054)] Midhwen sees the novice sit up again, but she still does not slow her pace, although her expression is less panicked than before as she answers Ceredir. \"I do not know.\"

\"Cousin?\" Kneeling down next to Morwenn, she places a hand on her shoulder. \"Morwenn, are you ill?\"

[Morwenn(#24368)]

Just as Midhwen touches her shoulder, Morwen finishes her odd task. She looks around, blinking bemusedly from a face smudged with the dirt of Ithilien, and slides the cuff back onto her wrist. \"What is the matter?\" she asks, looking at the faces around her, still unaware that she has been weeping. \"Why is everyone staring?\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] Extracting a handkerchief from her apron pocket, Midhwen starts as if to start cleaning the mixture of dirt and tears off Morwenn\'s face. Something holds her back however, and when she speaks, her words are slow and clear.

\"You collapsed, you have also been weeping.\"

Only once does Ceredir glance at the crying girl, to assure she is uninjured. Then his eyes nervously scan the area here on the edge of the camp. \"We thought there had been trouble,\" he notes, not looking to the girl. \"It\'s not safe here.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

\"Take your cousin to Laeraelin, Apprentice,\" says Bor, folding his arms at his chest and narrowing his eyes. \"There is, no doubt, an explanation for this.\"

\"But I have not the time or patience to sort through childish games.\"

[Morwenn(#24368)]

\"Have I?\" Morwen touches her cheek, then looks at the smear of mud across her fingertips. \"Oh, I see. But I did not collapse, Midhwen. I wanted to feel the earth. It is Ithilien! Can you not feel it, the mournful call of our lost homeland?\"

She looks up at Ceredir, still a bit confused. \"I am only a few paces away from camp, but if it will make you feel better, I am finished now. I will go back.\" She gets to her feet then, looking radiantly happy. \"Forgive me, Sir Bor, for causing such trouble for you all.\"

\"It will make me feel better, Miss,\" Ceredir smiles at the young woman. \"Here, you make yourself a tempting target.\" He shifts uneasily, then of a sudden turns sharply toward the nearby trees, eyes narrowed and his glance sharp. \"Get back...\" he hisses at the women.

[Midhwen(#29054)] Midhwen offers her cousin the handkerchief, before looking indulgently at her. \"That may be so, but it would be better if you found a safer place than the edge of the camp to feel the earth.\"

\"Come, let us go to your tent.\" Her gaze lights upon the dirt smeared bracelet, lingering for a moment before she takes Morwenn\'s arm, about to start walking back to the main part of the encampment when the scout makes his warning.

[Bor(#30834)]

\"We must not linger long,\" says Bor, shaking his head.

\"The Enemy\'s hand remains hidden and ours is here writhing in plain sight.\"

\"Child!\" he screams at Morwen, before turning away to leave.

[Morwenn(#24368)]

Morwen is not a daughter of the Mormegil for nothing. She steps quickly back toward the camp--but it is Bor\'s wrath that stops her in her tracks. Her cheeks flame red, but she draws back her shoulders and looks, for a moment, far more like her father than her mother.

\"Sir Bor,\" she says, her usually sweet voice even and grave. \"I am a daughter of Ithilien. Do you think I would move so much as a step away from camp if I thought I would come to harm? I have been well taught by my father to be wary. Child I may be, but I am not -your- child to be shouted at so.\"

Ceredir does not heed Bor\'s shout, nor the words that Morwen replies to the Knight Captain. He stares off into the surrounding trees, hand reachign for the bow he wears, the Scout automatically stringing it. But then he relaxes his gaze, exhaling.

\"Nothing there. I was mistaken.\"

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"Your vigilance is still appreciated, Ceredir, thank you.\" Midhwen takes a step away from her cousin while she addresses the Knight-Captain, letting the young woman stand on her own.

[Bor(#30834)]

Bor stops in his tracks, too and, with a sharp turn and a few steps, he brings himself menacingly close to Morwen. Emotion fires in his eyes.

\"Do you see the mind of the Enemy, child? Do you know his thoughts? Is his Eye yours too? Who are you to know of the danger you are in? We are within the thickness of peril\'s fog and you, you think you know something of this?\"

\"You know -nothing-, child. -Nothing-. Get out of my sight.\"

\"Not here, Sir Bor, Morwen,\" Ceredir says, with a nervous glance to the surrounding trees again. \"Further into the camp, if you please. There is danger lurking here--it is making my skin crawl.\" The Scout looks to Midhwen, gesturing for her to walk further into the camp even as he scans the trees again.

[Morwenn(#24368)]

\"The healers go further from camp to tend to the body\'s needs,\" Morwen replies, still remarkably calm as she indicates a patch of shrubbery that serves the healers for privacy. She watches him for a very long moment, then the hand that wears the Ithilien-soiled cuff of red-gold flashes out and she slaps his face.

\"Stop calling me a child. I am grown enough for my father to speak of my marriage. I am grown enough to tend -your- wounds. And I am grown enough to know that you are only yelling at me because I frightened you, and I do not know why you should have cared that much.\" All delivered levelly, with reason in her voice and above all, calm.

\"You should not be this far away from the camp\'s center,\" Ceredir notes dryly. \"Better that your bath house be turned into your latrine. At least it would not waste resources that way and you would be safer.\"

[Bor(#30834)]

The blow stings the icy cheek of the Knight-Captain and brings a red flush to his face. He spits to his side harshly and only then do his hawkish eyes return to Morwen. They have lost none of their intensity.

\"Marriage.\"

\"Leechcraft.\"

\"Take these upon yourself.\"

\"But you are too young for death. Get back to your tent. You are too impudent, too selfish, too rash. I shallnt have your blood on my hands. Take her, Apprentice. Remove her from my sight.\"

And thus does the Bragollach turn, and thus does he leave.

[Morwenn(#24368)]

\"The Mormegil do not fear death!\" calls Morwen after Bor, before she, too, turns to go. She disdains her cousin\'s assistance, and does not go toward her tent, but toward the healers.

[Midhwen(#29054)] \"I will tell the Master Healer of your objections and have her contact you or the Quartermaster himself, good day Scout.\" Her eyes trained on her cousin, Midhwen barely tosses a backward glance before following Morwenn, a determined look on her face.

For his part, Ceredir watches the exchange between Knight-Captain and apprentice healer with open-mouth astonishment. He shakes his head, frowning, then gives another searching glance to the surrounding trees before heading back into the camp.