Bor\'s Folly: Healing

A brilliant day - clear blue sky and sunlight on the remains of winter snow. But still cold - though nothing like earlier in the year. On a pallet in a tent in a small camp huddled beneath this sun, Conalmir is lying. He is staring up at the ceiling, but as if he doesn\'t see it and his teeth are clenched.

The Lady enters, Calenloth, surer of foot and duty in her eyes, cloths in one hand, and a mug in the other.

\"Squire,\" she says, softly, kneeling down beside the man. \"Do you wake?\" She glances upon his face, tense, and her mouth turns downward. \"How do you fare?\"

Conalmir\'s eyes turn towards the woman, and he stares at her incomprehendingly. \"Who... you are not my sister...\" Then panic fills his eyes and he struggles to rise, sinking back with a bit-off cry, and reaching out to clasp Calen\'s hand fiercely. \"Where is she?\" he asks urgently. \"Tell me!\"

Hot water splashes from the mug as his grasp jostles her own hold, and the bandaging material falls to the ground. \"Your sister?\" Calenloth exclaims, confused, \"Why...\"

Concern fills her face, again, the glance to Conalmir\'s state. \"You are feverish,\" she recounts, steadily. \"Breathe. Please.\" The mug placed to the ground, her free hand moves over the clenching hand of the Squire. \"Relax, Conalmir. I am not your sister. Tis Calenloth.\"

\"I know you\'re not my sister!\" Conal replies. He looks around frantically. \"My mother! Where is she!\" His voice gains in urgency, and despite the pain, he tries to get up again. \"I saw - I must - WHERE IS SHE?\"

Rising, Calenloth leans forward, casting the heft she can muster upon her two arms, pressed against Conalmir\'s shoulders. \"Stay still!\" Her voice rings, sharply. \"Your injuries are severe. And may be fatal if you do Not. Hold. Still.\" Her arms shake at the elbows as she bears into her hold.

\"I do not know where your sister is. Nor your mother. But you are here. In Andrast. Please, Sir. Breathe.\"

\"But the Haradrim,\" Conal says, growing more frantic as he is pushed back onto his bed - and unable to resist unable also to resist a gasp of pain. \"They have her, I must go - I must... And Father -\" He stops, arrested by Calenloth\'s words. \"Where?\"

\"Andrast. By the Sea.\" Calenloth comforts the Squire. Or attempts to... \"Can... you smell the air? I would hope you to feel more at home,\" she replies, sadly.

\"Will you stay there, I beg of you? I do not wish to aggravate your wounds. You must stay still, or you may not heal.\"

\"Your family...\" she begins. \"I did not know.\"

\"Andrast,\" Conalmir repeats blankly. \"Of course I can smell it,\" he adds waspishly. \"But - why am I here? And - \" His gaze sharpens. \"Who /are/ you?\"

\"Calenloth,\" she replies, still confused. \"Nimo... why, do you have any memory at all?\" Her eyes widen, she sits back, her arms falling upo her lap.

\"You took quite a hit, from the...\" A pause, as she recollects, \"You do not remember me, at all?\"

Conalmir shakes his head, then winces, paling. He puts a hand to his skull, feeling around a little, until his fingers encounter the edge of the bandage there. \"No,\" he says, perplexed. \"I do not remember you. Should I?\" A pause. Slowly, \"Clearly, I should... My mother is not - not taken by Haradrim?\"

\"I hope not...\" Calenloth chews her bottom lip, knowing full well a \'yes\' would be more soothing. \"But, I do not know. I have heard of no accounts, if that be of any comfort. But \'twas six months ago when we first left Minas Tirith.\"

\"You do... know who you are, Sir? We have traveled together, these many months. You, myself, the Squire Lominzil Girithlin, Lady Cwen, Sirs Menelglir, Imra...\" Her voice cuts back, a tightness in her throat, swallowed.

She reaches across to pull his hand from his bandage. \"Do not fuss.\"

\"Yes, of course. I am Conalmir. Tarikhor. But - traveled? Where? And for what reason?\" Conal\'s face is getting more and more confused. \"Six /months/? Minas Tirith...?\" He grasps the name he does know with relief. \"I know Lominzil, of course, though I have not seen him for many years now. We were pages together...\" His voice trails off as well, and his face tightens. A long moment later, meekly allowing her to put his hand down, he says evenly, \"Tell me what has happened. Why am I - \" Mutely, he gestures towards himself.

\"Lominzil is here!\" More hopeful, Calenloth presses forward. \"Perhaps your memories are but faint, whilst you recover, they shall return. So I shall tell you but some of our story. And then you /must/ promise to rest.\"

\"I must see to your bandages, Sir. I do not mean you any dishonor, but they must be changed.\" She gathers the dropped cloths, pulling away those that rested upon the ground.

\"We, and the others, set out to seek a Queen, lost long ago. No word left, just a memory. And found her, we did.\"

\"Why should changing my bandages be dishonorable?\" Conalmir asks, frowning.

\"Lominzil - here? But..\" He listens, then shakes his head, stopping himself abruptly. \"Very well, but why did I come with you? I am bound to - \" He stops again. Clearly, he doesn\'t wish to tell her this.

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"Dishonorable? Not so, if they require attention,\" Calenloth stumbles. \"But...\" She smiles, nervously. \"They simply require me to... lift your shirt. And you have always had this... discomfort... with women.\"

\"To be honest, I am not sure why you were selected to accompany us. By order, I am certain. But whose, I cannot remember. And myself? Why, no one is sure of that... either.\" She sits back upon her heels.

[Conalmir(#31396)] Conalmir\'s dark eyebrows pinch together in a deeper frown. \"Lady...\" he begins, and then impatiently, \"What is your name?\"

And without waiting for a reply, dazed mind flitting to another subject, he asks, \"What happened? Where are we?\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] A patient sigh, Calenloth sets aside the bandaging once again. \"My name is Calenloth. You were injured, by a frightening creature. We are in Andrast.\"

\"Can you tell me what you do remember?\"

Lominzil sits at the edge of camp, propped up by a tree stump. His pose is as unnatural as a broken doll, his outward-facing stare blank. There is blood on his tabard-front, and a sword lies naked on his knees.

[Conalmir(#31396)] The tent flap is open - Calenloth and Conal\'s conversation floats quietly out the sound of words, if not the words themselves, easily heard it is so quiet.

Conalmir looks at the woman blankly. \"I - I am at home,\" he says simply. \"Or... I was. I do not know why I would have left, there is no one else.\" As if he has forgotten everything that has been said only moments before, he becomes suddenly agitated again, trying to get, his voice sharp with anxiety. \"Mother!\"

Somewhere in camp, a dog howls.

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"Not home.\" She shakes her head to the sides, slowly, sadly. \"Unless...\" Calenloth attempts a smile once again, \"The sea is your home, is it not? We are there. Listen.\"

But the attempt again to stand catches her eye and again, her weight pressed forward upon his shoulders. \"Conalmir!\" Sharp is her tone, insistent her movements. \"Do not. Get up.\" A howl from the camp brings tears stinging to corners of her eyes.

[Conalmir(#31396)] \"I must find Mother,\" Conal insists, fighting against her restraint - though weakly. And after a moment, he is pressed back against the bed, and the lines of pain in his face are still deeper. \"She is... \" he fumbles to a halt. \"She is...\" Confusion fills his face. \"Where am I?\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"Breathe, Squire.\" Again. Her grip relaxing, she does not yet move away, perchance the fit returns.

\"When you have healed, you shall return home, I am sure of it. If that is... what you wish?\" A hard swallow, the best advice the girl can offer.

The sound rings in Lominzil\'s ears. He stirs a little, nicking his hand against the well-honed blade.

He stands slowly, mind and body numb.

[Conalmir(#31396)] \"Wish.\" Conalmir\'s voice, emotions raw that have not shown before, is edged and bitter. \"I must - I .... \" He stirs restlessly, the shadow of Lominzil\'s standing cast across the open doorway. \"How long?\" he asks Calenloth urgently.

[Calenloth(#27998)] Calenloth follows the eyes of Conalmir, turning her head to see the shadows cast upon the ground. \"I wish I knew,\" she speaks, listlessly. \"Perhaps soon. Perhaps not long enough.\" Her arms fall back to her lap, her fingers twisted into each other as she chews upon her lip, once again.

\"First, you must rest. Or you shall not recover.\" This she offers steadily. A thing she is sure off, at least.

[Conalmir(#31396)] Conalmir is staring up at the roof, his eyes drifting shut. After a moment, they pop open. \"Where am I?\" he asks, puzzled. \"My sister...\" He looks around the tent. \"I thought she - \" He feels at his head with his good hand. \"Did I fall?\"

Lominzil lifts the slightly-ajar tent flap and looks in, without comment.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Any change?\" Menelglir, behind Lominzil, seeks to look over the Squire\'s shoulder and in toward Conalmir. The question does not appear to be directed to anyone in particular.

[Calenloth(#27998)] Hopeful, Calenloth relaxes as Conalmir appears to drift to sleep, but again, rising to take the wandering hand, pushing it back against the pallet. \"Conalmir. You,\" she blinks back the stinging feeling once again. \"You fell, yes. You are hurt, and you need to rest.\"

[Conalmir(#31396)] Another voice. Conalmir\'s eyes wander as his hand is pushed down, and he looks at Menelglir without recognition. But there, in front of the knight - \"Lominzil,\" the squire says, in relief. \"Where are we? What has happened?\" But the frown is growing again - the other squire looks older wears a blue tabard... His dark eyes flick to Calenloth again. \"I fell?\"

Lominzil\'s eyes waver, but he comes in and kneels by the pallet.

\"Sleep,\" he says, with all the calmness of an actor. His hand, which last closed the eyes of a dead man, hovers on the Tarikhor\'s forehead. \"Just sleep. It will be better. I promise.\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Have you anything to help him sleep, in fact?\" Menelglir says, stepping further in. \"We have to move along. Only way we will clear this forest,\" he says grim-faced. \"Though I fear what the jolting will do to him.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"I do not. Lominzil?\" Calenloth watches as he comforts his friend.

\"There is nothing I can do,\" she admits. \"I cannot even change his bandages if he will not lie still.\"

[Conalmir(#31396)] Conalmir lifts a hand to touch Lominzil\'s and seems comforted by the other squire\'s words. His eyes droop shut again, then open to frown up at Menelglir. \"Sir,\" he says, weakly. \"I should - I am sorry - \" He makes to sit up, and this time Calen doesn\'t have to push him back he sinks back himself with a gasp, eyes shut.

Wordlessly, Lominzil looks down at Conalmir. Then he produces a small corked vial from his belt and passes it to Menelglir for inspection.

\"This will help,\" he murmurs. It is dark red, its smell pungent. \"No more than two drops. And no more than a week, or he will crave it.\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Brandy, then,\" Menelglir says, half turning, then stopping. \"There is no shame, Conalmir. You more than proved your valour.\"

He turns, stepping out again, presumably to fetch brandy.

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"Do we... mix them?\" This to Lominzil, Calenloth asks. Her voice quickly hushed back to a whisper, hoping that for once, Conalmir will sleep. \"His condition... will he...?\" She grimaces, the fear left unspoken.

[Conalmir(#31396)] The whispers go on above his head, but Conalmir might just as well have been asleep already for all the attention he pays. But after a few minutes, his eyes pop open again, and once more - \"Mother? Where is she? I need to go and ... Where is this?\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

Menelglir returns, holding a flask and ducking into the tent. \"Here,\" he hands it toward Lominzil. \"He will sleep at least.\"

Lominzil does not answer Calenloth or the new-waking Conalmir. He pours a little brandy into a bowl, then carefully puts in a drop of the sleeping potion, turning the clear brown liquid scarlet. \"Will this do?\" he asks.

[Calenloth(#27998)] Calenloth stands from her spot, allowing room for the two, turning and pacing towards the back of the tent, eyes cast to the ground. She paces.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"That will do, yes,\" Menelglir nods. \"His bandages should be changed, likely, though. I could show you,\" he says to Calenloth. \"It will give you something to do. Or Lominzil can, equally well.\"

Lominzil lifts the bowl to Conalmir\'s lips once the tincture has taken its effect, he leans back. \"Go rest, Knight,\" he murmurs, looking into the face of the young Knight. \"I will show her.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"I would, if he would -just- lie still!\" Frustration evident in Calenloth\'s voice. \"He has no memory. None at all. He still thinks he is at home, though I have told him time and time again. My name, our purpose... He remembers only Lominzil, and that he has seen him not since he was a page!\"

\"He asks of his mother, his sister. Where they are, of the Haradrim...\" Her voice trails off as she returns to Conalmir\'s side. \"Show me,\" she asks Lominzil, reaching beside her to again lift the gathered bandages.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Easy, Calen,\" Menelglir says in a calming tone. \"Lominzil and I will help. Men..wounded...do not tend to stay still. But the brandy will help. And rest...I do not need.\"

Lominzil bites his lip, but works in silence. Water is brought in, hot. Bandages are spread out, fresh and clean.

The squire uncovers the gouges on the young man\'s stomach, rolling up the soiled bandage.

\"It seems dry,\" he comments. \"That is good.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"And now?\" Calenloth leans over to survey the marks left behind. \"We clean them?\"

\"This may wake him, I fear.\" She manages, barely to contain a gasp at the wounds, still fresh, instead only a shudder.

\"Yes,\" supplies Lominzil, dipping the cloths into steaming water. \"But it is a strong draught. He will sleep.\"

He passes one of the cloths to Calenloth.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Yes. Hot water, though let the linen cool first. Brandy, if it appears to not be clean,\" Menelglir says. \"I will help Lominzil hold him,\" he moves to the man\'s head. \"If you wish to do this.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] Into the pot it goes then, her face stoic as the hot water tingles against her palms. Steam from the cloth dissipates into the air, disappearing, until her red palms feel no more heat.

The cloth drawn over the first of the gashes, slowly, the edges pinking under the pressure. Calenloth looks to Conalmir\'s face, hoping for no response.

\"It looks -- clean?\" Lominzil ventures, looking -- pleadingly? -- to Menelglir for affirmation. \"I do not wish to be wrong again.\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"It is clean.\" Menelglir presses his lips together. \"Lominzil--we are out, in the open. There is light, clean air. These wounds must be stitched to heal--bloodied again and then stitched.\"

\"More so, I worry about his memory--the blow against the cave wall.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] A damp cloth removed, pink fluid tinging the white fibers. \"Bloody them, once again?\" Calenloth asks, puzzled. \"He bled so much already... these wounds, they appear so deep...\" Another cloth taken, dry this time, she presses it gently over the clean wound.

\"He fought bravely,\" she remembers, softly.

Lominzil nods slowly, as if unwilling. \"Will you do it, Knight?\" he asks. \"I do not trust my hands -- they brought him close to ruin, the last time.\"

You say, \"He fights still -- in his mind.\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Yes. Just a little,\" Menelglir says to Calenloth, \"else the wounds will not bind together. Not enough to harm him more.\"

He considers Lominzil, then slowly shakes his head. \"Lominzil. Squire--\" he speaks quietly, with kindness. \"You will not harm anyone. You must trust yourself. I trust you. Imrakhor trusted you. Try.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"They are dry,\" from Calenloth. She sits back. \"Now... to bloody them, again? What do you need? A knife?\"

\"She thinks for a moment, before suggesting, \"I have my dagger. Will that serve the purpose?\"

\"Then Imrakhor was a fool,\" Lominzil says bitterly.

He opens his satchel a slender blade, impractical for eating or fighting, gleams with its thin edge. \"This will do,\" he murmurs. \"There is thread, too -- I will return.\"

He ducks out to the fire outside.

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"He is troubled,\" Calenloth nods, stating the obvious. \"His wounds we might not help.\"

She stands, gathering the discarded and dirty cloths. \"And these? Can these be cleaned? Or should i dispose of them, bury them, perhaps, to keep the flies away?\"

[Menelglir(#17324)]

Menelglir sighs after the Squire, then looks up to Calenloth. \"He is--and what will become of him now? Perhaps Sir Findon can take him on and help him. The linens...we will boil them and pray there is no further need for them.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"Is that what... happens?\" Calenloth ponders the idea. \"I suppose this is common among your Order when your Knights... fall.\"

Lominzil returns hurriedly, the knife hovering in his palm. He presses a finger to the spine, deciding it is cool enough. \"I am ready,\" he murmurs, pulling a paper-wrapped packet of thread out, and unraveling it.

[Conalmir(#31396)] Conalmir is restless, his breath heavy. But he doesn\'t wake - though the pain keeps him on the edge, the drugs keep him under.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"No...one Squire per knight...perhaps Sir Gwendion,\" Menelglir says. He glances to Lominzil, falling silent as teh Squire returns. \"Yes...ease the edges of teh wounds open. Gently, drawing some blood. Then we will stitch them together and bind them afresh.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"And what now? What about yourself and Sir Fi...\" Calenloth stops suddenly, at Lominzil\'s return, falling instead into silence.

\"Calarion is Menelglir\'s student,\" Lominzil answers his cousin, his odd pale eyes flat. \"Findon has Agladar.\"

He kneels, holding his breath with dread, and scores the edges of the long gashes, drawing lines of blood where white flesh meets new-formed coagulation.

HEALING: You administer some aid to Conalmir but don\'t know if it will help...

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Now we head back to Dol Amroth. We are summoned, we follow the Knight-Herald\'s command,\" Menelglir answers without blinking. He looks to Lominzil. \"Sir Gwendion needs a Squire. He is a good, kind man. He...understands things. People...things..\" he says, a bit awkwardly, but nods as Lominzil works on the wound--both hands to hold Conalmir down to keep him from jerking.

Lominzil pulls upon the wound, but his hand shakes mid-stitch, opening the gash beyond his intention. He freezes.

It is a moment before he dares to continue, finishing with small, fast strokes. \"I need a little more time, Knight,\" he says tersely. \"It has only been a day.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"Steady.\" Calenloth urges. \"Take the time you need. If he does not stir... slow, straight stitches. Like, sewing?\" Her eyes cast to Menelglir.

\"He was your Knight, was he not? When you were a Squire?\"

[Conalmir(#31396)] Conalmir\'s eyes twitch, and he moans but doesn\'t waken - or twitch.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Like sewing,\" Menelglir says, not showing any irritation or dismay at Lominzil\'s mistake. \"Sometimes, Squire Lominzil,\" he continues evenly and in a voice very quiet, \"we are thrust into situations long before we are ready. You have chosen the path to Knighthood--these situations will come upon you whether you wish for them to happen or not. Whether you feel that men lower in rank and older than years in you will respect your rank or not.\" He grimaces. \"We learn. We are all learning.\"

A quiet breath exhaled, and he looks to Calenloth. \"Sir Gwendion was my knight, yes. He is...kind, compasstionate, yet fierce is the flame in his heart. I try to emulate him, but fail much much more than I wish to.\"

Lominzil ties a knot, closing his eyes momentarily. The knife flashes, slicing the thread. He moves on to the next gash.

\"You learned well, Knight, what he taught you. I see the flame.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] A wide smile, finally, from Calenloth, as she glances to Menelglir. \"I should hope to meet him, someday.\"

Craning her neck over the row of stitches, she continues, \"Very nice, Lominzil. They look quite straight.\"

[Conalmir(#31396)] Conalmir\'s eyes open, staring blindly at the ceiling. He mumbles something - they should be words, but are not.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"Thank you.\"

Menelglir looks to the stitches, then nods. \"My kinsman, Captain Aearon of the Hosts, has a crooked scar because he insisted I stitch his wound when I was learning. Most often..\" he grimaces, \"he stitches his own.\"

Menelglir again looks to Calenloth. \"Sir Gwendion is in Dol Amroth. No doubt you will meet him then. And then the Prince will decide what we shall do from there. I do not know.\"

A sharp glance toward Conalmir, though he adds, \"we are nearly done.\"

Lominzil finishes quickly, efficiently, ungently -- as is his wont. \"Sleep now,\" he says to Conalmir, a frown marring his face.

\"Calenloth, the bandages -- dry ones. Cover the wound, if you would.\"

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"Oh, of course,\" Calenloth\'s eyes snap from Menelglir, as she prepared another set of bandages. \"Forgive me.\"

Bandages are placed carefully, gingerly, across the wounds, oozing just slightly with fresh blood.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"He will be fine for now, Calenloth. Come, let him sleep, and take something to eat. We\'ll be on our way again shortly,\" Menelglir says.

Lominzil backs away, gathering his supplies and quickly leaving the tent.

[Calenloth(#27998)] \"I should,\" soft, her reply, rising again to her feet. \"Hopefully he will sleep. The road shall be long.\"

[Conalmir(#31396)] He may be awake - but Conalmir is not aware. The pain is distantly felt, his body yet paralyzed as if in sleep. The squire mumbles some more non-words, not seeing or hearing those around him as they start to leave.

[Menelglir(#17324)]

\"And you as well, Lominzil. Keep up your strength,\" Menelglir says. He puts a hand on Calenloth\'s shoulder to guide her out, after a quick glance to Conalmir.