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Buttercup gives Snaveling a poultice to use . . .
Buttercup gave Snaveling a suspicious look. Here he was coming in all fluttery and such and saying there’s been an accident! and in practically the same breath mentioning Margold and a brief reference to a fall. “Mentioning”, mind you . . . no details supplied . . .
‘Well, now, just what might you mean by she’s “quite overcome”?’ pressed Buttercup. She was fond of the little girl and was wondering just what Snaveling had been up to that had caused her to fall. Buttercup pried as many facts about how the girl looked and was feeling. The tightness in her stomach lessened as she learned she was groggy, but awake and there seemed to be no bleeding.
‘Yarrow . . . we don’t use it for that sort of thing around here. Might be some Fair Folk remedy for their kind,’ said Buttercup, going to the cupboard that held the medicine box. She got out a pottery jar and pulled out the stopper, directing Snaveling to get a small handful of oats from the second bin on the right in the pantry. In a small bowl she mixed up a thick paste of dried comfrey root, oats, a little honey, and some cold water. ‘This’ll do for a Hobbit head,’ she said, picking up the bowl and handing it to Snaveling. ‘Take the spoon and put a bit of the paste where the bump or bruise is.’ she handed a clean dish towel to the man, also. ‘And wrap this about her head to keep it in place. Takes the swelling right down and eases the pain.’ She handed him a small bottle of oil of lavender also. ‘Rub a little of this on her temples – gently,’ she went on as he juggled the bowl and the bottle. It will help her feel calmer. And for heaven sakes don’t let the child go to sleep for a several hours. Sometimes with bad falls like this the sleep’ll overtake them if you let it get to them, and they never wake up.’ ‘Or at least not for a long time,’ she added, seeing the look on his face.
She saw Snaveling back to the door of the kitchen, saying she would come see Marigold a little later. ‘Oh, and one last thing. You have told Mister Falco that she’s been hurt . . . haven’t you?’
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