The Houses of Healing

Pull out your pack and head on down to the Prancing Pony for some great Role Playing (try to stay in character)!

The Houses of Healing

Postby *Hryveriel* » Wed Oct 12, 2005 12:28 pm

As the sun reared her head out from the black clouds of Mordor, her golden locks of light began to search the earth for their favorite resting place this side of the White Mountains. Minas Tirith. As she probed the misty morning earth she chanced a brush of light against the base of its whitewashed walls. She had found it. The beauty and nobility of man all composed into one great city, the pride of the men from the West. When all of the Sun’s yellow ribbons came to a rest on the majestic structure, it glistened like a Silmaril of olden days. Its white and silver banners streaked through the morning breeze like falling stars. The Sun stroked the city like a mother stroking a child from sleep. She swept across the windows as if to say “Get up! Get up! I bring you a new day! A new day with which you may spend as you would have it. Get up! I will not stay here forever. You are the ones who have the power to make this day great!” Her beams of light cradled the city like a warm golden blanket. She lit the streets with celestial glory. Children started to wake and play in the streets, waiting for their mothers to prepare breakfast. The Sun seemed to smile on the city as its streets began to teem with life.

As the Sun caressed the city she brushed upon a quiet, yet busy section of the city. The Houses of Healing. The smell of herbs filled the air as Nurses bustled from room to room. The light streamed into the Houses from the balcony on the southeast side. A fountain tinkled somewhere close by and the flowers in the garden began to open up and release fragrant perfumes. Patients started to wake and, some, got up out of bed to bask in the warmth of the Sun’s gift.

Some were only people of the city, but others were soldiers that hard seen the hard and ugly face of battle. But if a stranger were to pass by, he would not know the difference, for all wore the same garment and lived there for the same reason; they had come to be healed.

They had come to call on the aid of the Nurses and Healers. The ones who healed mighty warriors wounded and helpless from battle, the ones who mended the small cuts and bruises of children, the ones who brought life into the world, and, yes, sometimes, had the misfortune of seeing it leave the world. Yes, these were the unsung heroes of the Battle for the Ring. Though they did not know what they were fighting for, other that their fellow man’s life. They worked and toiled for no fame or renown at all. Well, almost. This is their story, and this is their reward.
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Postby *Hryveriel* » Wed Oct 12, 2005 12:30 pm

Idril wiped her brow. “Only an hour and I’m breaking a sweat,” she said exasperated. She picked up a large wide mouthed bowl from a bedside table and walked hurriedly out of the room. Nurses were trotting up and down the halls between the rooms carrying an assortment of items. One, she noticed, was carrying a large wooden basket filled with something moving under the blanket that covered it. When she heard a small coo she knew that it must have been a baby. “A new day, a new life,” the nurse said as she passed Idril. Idril smirked and made her way towards the fountain. When she got there she dipped the large bowl into the base of the fountain. Then she turned around to make her way down another hallway. But before she exited the fountain’s courtyard she noticed something, a patient. “A patient that’s not supposed to be out of bed,” said Idril. She strode over to him and said, “Sir, your wounds are not yet fully healed. Go back to your chambers so that you will be able to move about more quickly.” But the man did not obey her command. “I will not be reduced to that kind of indignity,” he said. “I am a Captain of the Steward’s Guard!” “Well,” said Idril before he could rant and rave anymore, “I suppose he’ll want his captain back soon. Eh? Now go back to your quarters before I raise my voice and really make this undignified.” And with that the captain gave her a nasty look, turned on his heals and limped down the hall. Idril shook her head, chuckled, and resumed walking out of the courtyard. When she came to what seemed to be the right room she walked in and placed the bowl down on the table beside the bed.

In the bed there was a young boy who groaned at the sound of her entrance. His arm lay at his side in a cast. He tried to raise himself up, apparently forgetting that his arm was injured, with his cast arm. He let out a yelp and flopped back down, defeated, on to the bed. “When can I get out of here?” he asked Idril.
“Soon, Turin,” she said in a nurturing tone as she whipped his forehead with a damp cloth. “We have to be careful that you do not get any more infections into that cut of your arm. Not to mention ‘till the bone heals either. Soon I expect that you’ll be able to get up and walk around. But your body needs to use your strength to heal itself first.”
The boy named Turin let out a mellow dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes. But then his face took on an older more serious look. He looked at Idril hard and asked, “Is that man in the other room going to be alright? I hear him at night, sometimes, moaning.”
Idril blinked and looked, worried, into the boy’s face. She gulped and said, “I’m sorry you had to hear that. But—“ The boy cut her off.
“I saw him too.”
“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. He will be—he’ll be fine,” she said with a reassuring smile. But she knew the truth of that man’s fate. He would die shortly and leave this world of pain he had tried so hard to fight against. “Yes. I really very sorry you had to see that. But he’ll be walking around soon enough. Don’t worry.”
“Oh. Alright,” said the boy. “He just sounded like he was in a lot of pain. What happened to him?”
“Well,” said Idril, “He was in the frontlines in Osgiliath. He took on some wounds, that’s all.” That’s all? she thought. That’s how Papa died! How could you say “that’s all” to that boy. You know full well that that is not all! She shoved these criticizing thoughts out of her head and smiled at the boy. “Now don’t go trying to get up again,” she chided and walked out of the room.
How could you have ordered that man to be placed in the same section as the boy? Now he’s going to become like you, her mind scolded. Yes, like you. A stupid weak little orphan who can’t control her own downward spiraling life. Idril found a secluded corner and leaned into it. She rubbed her temples with her thin fingers. You know the only way that you’re going to feel better is if you use some herbs. But that would mean that your giving into your impulses. Weakling! You’re a worm, you know that? She couldn’t take it any more. She had to get something to suppress the self annihilating thoughts in her head. So what? She could admit that she was a weakling if it made the pain go away. “I have work to do anyway. How am I supposed to concentrate when I’m criticizing myself all day?” she said to herself. She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and walked off towards the Healers quarters.
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Postby Nimhiril » Tue Oct 25, 2005 6:07 pm

Drawing in a steadying breath, Melody turned into the chamber holding the mortally wounded soldier. He had been hanging onto the hope of living, but she knew it was not so. His death was near, all she could do was help ease the pain of his passing.

A young woman was sleeping in a chair beside the man. Her dirty face had streaks on it where tears had forged paths through the grime and dust.

His wife. She thought to herself. The swollen belly of the lady told Melody she was due to have a little one soon. The pang in her stomach sharpened. She would have to find a way, somehow. Setting the pitcher of water she had been carrying that was steaming with some pain easing herbs in it on the bed side table, she closed her eyes a moment, banishing the memories of her brother. Slowly, she took the bandage off the soldier’s chest, revealing the mangled flesh with a gentle hand.

“Oh,” the woman said quietly as she woke. “Hello.”

Melody only nodded. She had to concentrate, she didn’t want to cause him any more pain. Dipping a clean cloth into the water, she stroked dark hair out of his eyes. Then, with an unsteady hand, placed the cloth on his chest adding a little pressure.

He stirred, a groan on his lips. His wife was instantly holding his hand in her own. “Hush, love, hush. She only wants to help,” her vioce was loving and kind, cooing him back into a deep sleep. She bent over him and kissed his lips, which were sluggishly responsive before dreams
caught him away into their realm. “Sleep well, love. Until the stars rise.”

Melody redressed the wound that was so close to his heart and lung. “Lady, it is not well for you or your child if you do not sleep. Please, take rest in a neighboring bed, I will prepare it.”

The woman nodded wearily, “Thank you.” Melody hurried to find a bed she could easily move into the room. Her stay needed to be comfortable, and it was clear she was not leaving. The nurse could only hope that the high-nurses would not be angered.
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Postby bellmaker4 » Tue Dec 13, 2005 8:13 am

The green-cloaked man made his way through the woods of northern Lossarnach. In his bag, he had some sage, some hawthorn, and some athelas for the man back at the Houses and his wife. The branches loomed overhead, friendly but mysterious. They waved in a light breeze as he stopped to grab some yarrow and hyssop for tea. The forest was not thick and thorny, but open and smelled sweet like a mixture of berries and pine. As he rounded a ridge and came out of the timber, the White City, Minas Tirith, the capital of Gondor loomed ahead against the mountains. He passed through fields and farmers preparing the last of their crop. Some were already packing up to leave to the White CIty or farther places such as Lebennin or even south Lossarnach. Wains also came out of the city headed for such places. But, as a healer and a part-time ranger, his place was not with them, but here in the city to help the wounded soldiers. About an hour later he walked through the beautiful gates of the city. He was not in a particularly good mood, and he was not expected back for another hour, so he decided to take a short walk up to the butteries on the sixth level for inspiration. The streets were lined with busy people, all anxious and trying to get the last of the food from the markets before they closed, so that they would not be left starving in the heat of the battle that was to come. He wept for the sad state that Middle-Earth, and even his city was in. Denethor had not been a very good leader, and the people hoped for the return of Isildur’s Heir. Some said they hoped in vain, however.
At the butteries, he grabbed a loaf of bread, a stick of butter, and a beaker of wine. Sitting on the ramparts above it, he looked out to the east. The sky was dark. It had been dark for a few days now, sent by the Dark Lord to cloak his soldiers from the sun. Speaking of which, the black mountains guarding his fortress lay ahead, wreathed in smoke and ash. Fire leapt up from behind them as fell beasts swooped around the mountains. The main army sat at Osgiliath now, though, which he could see as a dark circle in the river ahead.
After a while, he tired of this mirthless sight, and headed back to the Houses. The Houses seemed like the one place that, no matter how dark it was outside, a bit of light gleamed. He came to the room where the store of herbs was and dropped off most of his load. He kept some athelas, however, and made the yarrow and hyssop into a tea mixed with some hawthorn for the lady. He walked into the man’s room quietly.
“Melody?” he said softly to the lady tending the wounded soldier. “Melody, I have brought some herbs for the man and his wife. “
“Thank you, Celegal.” she answered. “We will need them. I will give the lady the tea when she wakes up. For now, why don’t you keep it warm. I’ll take that athelas and crumble it with some hot water for the man to inhale.”
“Good thinking. I also brought soem herbs for a poultice. I’ll get to work on it right away after I check on the little one. “
He walked into the boy’s room and smiled when the boy’s face lit up. “Celegal, Celegal, play with me!”
“I’m sorry, master Turin, but I’m afraid I can’t until that arm of yours is better.” Celegal pointed at the boy’s arm and gave him some tea.
Turin sipped it sadly. “I remember, before I was hurt, we used to play tag and play pranks on the rug-seller down at the market.”
Celegal laughed. “Well, Turin, as soon as your arm is healed, I promise you that we’ll prank the rug-seller until he’s blue in the face!”
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