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Bêthberry · 12-15-2002, 07:58 AM

Moonlight was failing and the horizon was still but a smear in the sky yet some birds were nattering. Bethberry rose and saw Gandalf and Holly deep in conversation. She had wondered what had taken the Wizard out of camp, but she was too familiar with his ways to question him. If he needed to consult with her, he would, she knew.

Stiff from the night's sleep, she rose and stretched her neck and arms and then sought out her bag of herbals. Poppy seemed alert, so Bethberry came to her side.

"Poppy, after an injury, long immobility can do harm. Do you think you can do some gentle stretching? When you are fully awake, try moving your limbs carefully and consider sitting up if you can. Call me back once you have done this and we shall see what more care you need. Your eyes look clear and bright and there is colour in your cheeks, all welcome signs!"

Bethberry then turned to the one more likely to be obstreperous, the more so since it appeared he had angered and alienated everyone else in the camp. Yet that wound was dangerous and needed to be watched, closely. She bid her time a bit, watched him as he turned and turned fitfully in uneasy rest and then decided to approach him.

"Nardol, much as I would respect your privacy, I must see your wound."

He did not respond to her quiet voice, but Bethberry was not one to allow rudeness or incivility to bring out the same qualities in her. She persisted.

She lay one hand lightly on his shoulder so as not to startle him, and then gently applied some pressure to her wakening call, before withdrawing her hand.

"Nardol, you have spent a fitful night. If you do not attend to that wound it will fester, and then we shall be forced to apply maggots to it, to rid it of the foul infection. And if that is the case, you will be denied your miruvor, for it would only kill the maggots. What is your wish? Some less invasive treatment now, or the banishment of your favourite elixir?"

The elf stirred slightly and then remained still, but he watched Bethberry without retort or reprimand.

"I can give you now some agrimony to wash the wound and a new poultice of bistort, bethroot and horsetail. And a dried cake for you to eat, sweetened with honey and made palatible with angelica, to mask the pain. If you do not trust me, I will tell you which herbs form the cake. Will you let me attend to you, or shall you care for your wound yourself?"

She sat back and allowed the elf his space, but her look and pose made very clear that he needed to attend to her words for her face was marked by a strange mixture of sternness and care, seriousness and respect. She wasn't pampering him, for there was a sobre insistence in her demeanour. And he could tell she was not one to be easily dismissed by hostility.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]

12-15-2002, 07:58 AM	#148
Bêthberry Cryptic Aura Join Date: May 2002 Posts: 6,003	Moonlight was failing and the horizon was still but a smear in the sky yet some birds were nattering. Bethberry rose and saw Gandalf and Holly deep in conversation. She had wondered what had taken the Wizard out of camp, but she was too familiar with his ways to question him. If he needed to consult with her, he would, she knew. Stiff from the night's sleep, she rose and stretched her neck and arms and then sought out her bag of herbals. Poppy seemed alert, so Bethberry came to her side. "Poppy, after an injury, long immobility can do harm. Do you think you can do some gentle stretching? When you are fully awake, try moving your limbs carefully and consider sitting up if you can. Call me back once you have done this and we shall see what more care you need. Your eyes look clear and bright and there is colour in your cheeks, all welcome signs!" Bethberry then turned to the one more likely to be obstreperous, the more so since it appeared he had angered and alienated everyone else in the camp. Yet that wound was dangerous and needed to be watched, closely. She bid her time a bit, watched him as he turned and turned fitfully in uneasy rest and then decided to approach him. "Nardol, much as I would respect your privacy, I must see your wound." He did not respond to her quiet voice, but Bethberry was not one to allow rudeness or incivility to bring out the same qualities in her. She persisted. She lay one hand lightly on his shoulder so as not to startle him, and then gently applied some pressure to her wakening call, before withdrawing her hand. "Nardol, you have spent a fitful night. If you do not attend to that wound it will fester, and then we shall be forced to apply maggots to it, to rid it of the foul infection. And if that is the case, you will be denied your miruvor, for it would only kill the maggots. What is your wish? Some less invasive treatment now, or the banishment of your favourite elixir?" The elf stirred slightly and then remained still, but he watched Bethberry without retort or reprimand. "I can give you now some agrimony to wash the wound and a new poultice of bistort, bethroot and horsetail. And a dried cake for you to eat, sweetened with honey and made palatible with angelica, to mask the pain. If you do not trust me, I will tell you which herbs form the cake. Will you let me attend to you, or shall you care for your wound yourself?" She sat back and allowed the elf his space, but her look and pose made very clear that he needed to attend to her words for her face was marked by a strange mixture of sternness and care, seriousness and respect. She wasn't pampering him, for there was a sobre insistence in her demeanour. And he could tell she was not one to be easily dismissed by hostility. [ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ] __________________ I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away.