Healing after the battle?

East Shore of the Mitheithel

You are on the eastern shore of the Mitheithel river, just north of the Last Bridge. The river is fairly broad and obviously cannot be crossed except by the bridge. The banks are fairly steep, but not too steep to be wooded. Further east, the woods grow denser and darker, and the terrain grows very rugged. A ravine yawns just under this ridge of land along the river, and you cannot go east from here. These are the infamous Trollshaws, where trolls from the mountains come down to hunt for victims during the night and hide in the deep woods during the daylight.

Contents:

Dwarven Camp

Thari

Obvious exits:

North and South

[Thari(#31038)] The dwarvish wounded have survived, so far, and the dead are lost to the orcs. It rained last night, and with about a third of the ponies missing, many supplies were gone as well. Tents were set up over those with the worst injuries, in a camp fairly well hidden in the thick woods beside the ravine.

Thari is trying to walk beneath the trees, her steps very wobbly indeed, every foot firmly planted on the seemingly-swaying earth. A drop of rain falls from the trees above and hits her in the back of her head, and she falls to her knees and one hand with a grunt.

[Gimli(#30149)] \"Oi! Who be there!?\", comes a gruff voice, and then from behind a small copse of trees a group of dwarves emerges, each clad in bright mail, with their weapons ready to be used. At the fore is Gimli, son of Gloin, the cruel blade of his axe shining eerily as his dark eyes dart here and there looking for the source of the sound. As he notices the fallen Thari, he rushes to her, as do two more of the dwarven patrol while the others return to their post. \"Are you well?\", the Captain of the Black Axes asks, his brow furrowed in concern. \"Norli, go and fetch a healer!\", he commands, and off Norli goes, rushing towards the dwarven camp.

[Frarin] The silver merchant Frarin sits propped up against a dark tree, his head lolled forward and his hands in his lap. A discarded chain mail coif and hauberk are at his side, as well as his blue war hammer, still black with orc blood. A slight bulge beneath his red tunic suggests a makeshift bandage, but far more noticeable is the bandage about his head and left hand. Red blood still crusts the side of Frarin\'s face and the fingers of his left hand, but his face is still and seemingly peaceful, as if his subconscious is grateful for a brief respite from his usually sober expression. But the adrenaline on the battlefield is gone and he sleeps heavily.

With a sudden jerk, however, Frarin is brought to life as the shout of Gloin\'s son echoes through the trees. Instinct bids him reach his uninjured hand for the hammer at his side, but his alarm is soon stayed by the appearance of the Black Axes. He shakes the sleep from his head and makes a great effort to rise, leaning heavily on the haft of the war hammer. \"Thari,\" he calls hoarsely, breathing ragged, \"Thari lass! You should-\" but he breaks off as Gimli comes into view. Leaning against both the tree and his weapon, Frarin nods as best he can. \"My lord,\" he says, a hand on his chest. \"She is not well at all, lord. Her eyes are unfocused and her words nonsense. I had thought her resting when we made camp, but there is something astray with her head, sir, she should not be wandering.\"

Thari\'s teeth grit and her wince turns into a silent snarl. She slowly lifts her head and seems to try to stand again, only to roll to a hunched seat. \"I..\" she speaks, but then there is a pause. \"Mm. I\'m th\' healer.\" Her voice is very quiet, thick, rather unlike her usual brash tone. Her hand grasps a fistful of old leaves for the ground, then releases it, fingers flaring.

Her own left shoulder is thick with a winding bandage, and her face has been somewhat cleaned of blood.

[Gimli(#30149)] \"You need a healer, lass... and quickly too\", Gimli replies to Thari tenderly, and then his eyes go to Frarin. \"What is this you say about his head being astray, cousin?\", he asks, \"for surely, the healers would not let anyone in such a state wander about the camp. if they have\", he adds, as his tone turns grim, \"I shall have a word with them\".

[Frarin] The weariness is Frarin\'s face gives way to alarm as Thari rolls into a sitting position. He looks away towards where a few tents are visable between the trees, as if willing a healer to appear instantly. When none comes, he instead seems to steal himself for a moment, then moves stiffly towards the dwarf-lady, using his war hammer as a support.

\"The healers are all busy, lord, and weary,\" says Frarin, his breaths uneven as he comes to Thari\'s side. \"I saw to Thari myself, but I know nothing of healing. I found her a spare tent and blanket before seeking a place to rest myself.\" He glances at the sky. \"That was three or four hours ago.\"

[Thari(#31038)] Thari starts to laugh noiselessly, her body moved by the mirth, but the sound just a breath of air. \"Lord.\" She looks up. \"Fine, fine. \'M fine. Head.\" She takes a breath and furrows her brow, the cut on her cheek opening a little and beading blood. \"Bastard-- my beard.\" She slowly turns to look at Frarin. \"You know.\" A deep breath. \"Dead?\"

[Frarin] The silver merchant\'s brows furrow at Thari\'s nonsensical chatter, moreso when she turns to face him with a question in her expression. Slowly Frarin lowers himself to his knees, though he sets a hand to his chest as if the effort pains him. He stares squarely into Thari\'s dull eyes, almost squinting at her as he tries to make sense of her wandering speech. \"I don\'t know what,\" he starts, but his words trail away. \"Keep still lass, don\'t trouble your mind.\" But he looks at the cut on Thari\'s cheek and seems suddenly to understand. With a glance at Gimli, Frarin shakes his head. \"I, I don\'t know, lass,\" he lies, voice gruff with the effort.

[Gimli(#30149)] Gimli\'s expression is tender as he regards Thari and Frarin, yet there is iron in his voice and eyes as he speaks. \"Those who are wounded should remain in their tents, so the healers can tend your wounds. Going about will not help you recover, at least, not yet\", he says. \"I shall call the lads and help you two get back, and then I\'ll have a word with the healers\".

Thari releases a great gust of a sigh, loose hairs around her moustache blowing. She carefully sits cross-legged on the ground, still moving as if adjusting to some internal sway. \"Kill him,\" she says grimly. This topic seems to focus her mind a little bit, though she doesn\'t look at either dwarf before her. \"Big orc. Big read cloak. My beard on his belt.\"

[Frarin] \"She is not in her right mind, my lord,\" Frarin replies firmly, the barest suggestion of annoyance creeping into his words, despite the effort with which he produces them. \"She cannot be held accountable for her actions. They were honourable enough in battle, when her eyes were clear.\" And if he senses the implication that he should /himself/ have found a tent, instead of a tree, he does not say so.

He looks at Thari again, dark eyes glowing with some unknown miriad of thoughts. \"There lass, you\'ll find him. But not just yet, understand? Can you stand, Thari?\"

Thari\'s face is turned to Frarin. Her unfocused eyes focus on his face for a brief moment on his eyes, like a flash of a silver blade, and then unfocus again, turning to grey clouds. \"They must die for what they\'ve done to us.\" The words are clear, their meaning even, but her tongue slips through them, some words too hasty, some too slow.

[Gimli(#30149)] \"And die they shall\", Gimli says, his dark eyes now lit with an inner fire that threatens to consume all about him. The Narag guardsmen stand back a pace, for few have seen their Captain\'s wrath so plainly. \"We shall wet our blades in their black blood and scatter their bones to the four winds, for they shall have no burial... not even fire shall touch their filthy limbs! For carrion they are, and so the carrion birds shall feast on them!\", he says, as he strikes a nearby tree with his fist. CRACK!

Danuf has arrived.

[Frarin] Frarin looks up at Gimli as the young champion\'s rage lashes out and a nearby tree pays the penalty. The merchant\'s face visibly hardens and he heaves himself to his feet. There is no anger is his eyes to match his lord\'s, but his stony expression is grim and steadfast, as if Gimli\'s words have helped him shirk away some of his weariness. \"Aye, my lord,\" Frarin growls, making an effort to straighten from his pained slouch. \"Aye indeed.\" And that is all he says on the matter, as if further words are not needed or desired.

Reaching towards Thari, Frarin says again to her, \"Come on, lass. You won\'t wreck any revenge sitting on the forest floor. Up on your feet. We\'ll find you some proper help.\"

[Thari(#31038)] Gimli\'s rage seems to blow Thari aside, for the lass sways backwards and nearly falls over, only to sway forth again and allow herself a single moan. Frarin\'s hand is held out to her, but it takes a while before it seems to dawn on her that the hand is there, or even what it might be used for. Her own left hand is lifted to his, and her right hand starts to lift, but is dropped with a small cry in her throat.

She hesitates. \"Frarin....\" whatever the thought was, it leaves, and she rolls with some difficulty to her knees in preparation to stand.

[Gimli(#30149)] As Thari tries to stand, the Narag guardsman comes with two others who carry a makeshift litter. \"Finally\", Gimli growls, as he stands aside. \"Take her to a tent and make sure she\'s comfortably set in. I shall see that this is carried out personally later\", he adds. The two litter dwarves nod, and then stare for a second at each other with apprehension. \"Well?\", the Narag champion says, \"what are you waiting for?\". No more prompting is needed, for soon both dwarves start towards Thari, intent on getting her on the litter.

[Danuf(#29900)]

Trotting along atop a plump little pony is Danuf. The cook wasn\'t too happy to have left his wagon behind, all that delicious food! And something to ride in so he wouldn\'t have to walk or ride this clumsy pony. The Dwarf mutters incoherently, the banging and rattling of pots, skillets and other cooking implements rattling at their straps, burdening the little animal with their weight, not to mention the portly Dwarf seated atop it.

[Frarin] The grim determination leaves Frarin in an instant as Thari cries out. He moves quickly, momentary concern overpowering his laborious breathing as he stoops to aid Thari. \"That\'s a nasty cut you\'ve got there, Thari,\" he says, catching sight of her wounded shoulder. He goes to her left side, gently taking her hand as the litter bearers approach. Careful to keep her hand from brushing the bandage upon the right side of his head, Frarin attempts to help her rise. \"Up you come now. You need not even stand, lass. You\'ve your own litter waiting, see? Just lay yourself down now.\"

The sudden clanging and banging brings Frarin\'s head up with a look of alarm and his eyes search the wooded area for the source of the revealing noise.

[Thari(#31038)] The litter-bearers near, and Thari is lifted up just enough by Frarin that she can ease back on the thing. Her teeth grit at the clanging of the cook\'s pots, and she seems to tense up in the bed as it raises. Her eyes are pinched shut.

[Gimli(#30149)] Gimli watches as Thari\'s put on a litter, and then he stands further back. \"Well, Master Frarin, I think you should go with Thari and make sure of the arrangements\", he says to the silver merchant, \"if you so wish\", he adds as an afterthought, for after all, Frarin is not part of the Baruk narag and thus Gimli has no authority over him. To the nearby cook a nod is given, as he adds, \"And now I shall leave, for I am on patrol. fare you well\". And with that he turns on his heels and leaves, the Narag guardsmen trailing after him.

Danuf comes trotting out of the woods, letting out a sigh as he spots the other Dwarves. The portly cook guides his mount towards the gathering, grunting a little as the pony rolls over the uneven ground, \"Wish I had mah durned wagun...\" he mutters, adjusting his cap a bit as he struggles to remain atop the pony.

Thari pages: Hah, I\'m not worried about whether or not the password would hurt your feelings. Rather I was being lazy, because then I wouldn\'t have to post logs.

[Frarin] Frarin nods to Gloin\'s son as he departs, saying quietly, \"Thank you, my lord, I shall.\" He watches as Thari lowers herself onto the litter and scrunches up her eyes. Some brief internal debate seems to trouble him for a second before, face remaining as still as stone, he takes Thari\'s hand in his own injured hand as if to reassure her. He reveals no emotion in the action, only taking a place beside the stretcher-bearers as they lift Thari from the ground.

Looking to Danuf, Frarin gestures for the sulking cook to follow. \"Wagon or no, perhaps you could you could prepare something for this dwarf lass here, Master Cook? There are a fair few of us famished and in need of your relief.\"

Danuf nods, sighing, \"I only have some oatmeal and grains... no fresh vegetables... hard rations will have to suffice...\" he says, swining off his Pony to land on the ground with a little thump, the Dwarf\'s legs a little unsteady as he sways a moment, \"Do we have any water?\"

Thari\'s tense body relaxes into the litter as it is lifted. Her face slackens as if she lapses into unconciousness but-- and perhaps only Frarin can know this-- her grip remains just a little tightened on the injured hand that holds hers. Otherwise, she seems to sleep.

[Frarin] \"A meal fit for kings, I judge,\" says Frarin with a grim smile at Danuf. \"There is water aplenty just to the north, where lies the river Mitheithel. And with the day, a small fire should be allowed.\" That said, he sets off at the litter\'s side. The dwarven camp is coming to slowly to life as Thari is borne away to a spare tent. Wounds are tended again and a sparse meal served up as the battered caravan prepares itself to continue the hard journey to Bree once more.