'Too late for stitches.'commented the Elf calmly as she examined the Man's left arm. 'Elanor! Bring me the small keg of Dwarven spirits, a pitcher of fresh water, and that dark leather satchel there under the bar.' The Hobbit sprang into action, and soon the items were at hand.
Pio had called on several of the patrons to position Barodir more squarely in the center of the table. Rie and Eruantalon pulled on the fellows shoulders, looping their arms beneath his armpits and heaving him slowly up and over on the surface, so that his head touched the edge of the table at one end.
Biffo, his cousin Belle and Elanor shoved on the heavy man's legs until they too were squarely aligned with the edges of the table.
Pio ripped open the man's shirt sleeve from wrist to shoulder, exposing a gash about the depth of her little finger, running from his mid forearm to a point just below his shoulder. 'Hold him down.' she said to her assistants and five bodies flung themselves over the supine figure.
She sluiced a little water from the pitcher over the wound, cleansing out the debris. 'Hold tight now.' she cautioned the others, as she poured a quantity of fiery Dwarven spirits along the length of the wound to prevent infection. The man writhed in agony, but Pio was unrelenting in her care.
Taking a small pot of aloe unguent from the satchel, she applied it liberally to the wound then packed the gash with sphagnum moss and wrapped clean linen strips about it.
By the time she had finished, he had come fully awake, the pain from the wound and her ministrations making him moan. 'Here,' she said, propping his head up with her hand,'drink this.' she trickled a small short stream of honey colored liquid between his lips.
'What's that?' asked Elanor, her eyes wide at all that had gone on.
'Elixir of poppy.' said Pio, smiling, as she motioned for Rie and Eruantalon to help her stand the man. 'it will take the pain from him for a while, and give him pleasant dreams.' Now help me get him up to a bed. We'll tuck him in, and I'll check on him later.'
It was nearing midnight when she came, carrying a candle, to see him. His face was flushed and his breathing deep and regular. Behind his closed lids moved dreams and wonders. She checked his arm - the dressing was dry, no further bleeding. She leaned close regarding him, and whispered in his ear.
'Next time use a recurved bow and a hunting arrow. Stay out of reach of the blade - you'll be safer.'
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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