Frustration coursed through him as the man stared down at the page left on the table. Still, he was unable to form the letters he had learned as a child, as if he'd forgotten how to write them. Elias cursed and threw the quill aside after attempting again, getting nothing but squiggles once more. Perhaps he needed to learn to write again. The man frowned at the thought, eyes closing and head falling forward as the familiar sense of shame found him once again.
A few long minutes passed until he found the strength to open his eyes again, looking ahead towards the front door. It hadn't been opened all day. The last one he could recall entering was Jackilyn Blackburrow, giving him the news of the old cook. At first, he thought an invitation to the funeral was coming, but such was never offered. Instead, a blame for her own choice is what she decided to leave him with. He had hoped for a better parting, but she would not allow him to have such. The man would be forced to accept guilt, be painted as one in the wrong, that he made a wrong choice. No matter how hard he tried to explain, she wouldn't listen, wrapped up in her own delusions and a world she had created in her mind.
It did not matter, nothing of it mattered any more. A long discussion with Aeruthuil had made him realize such. Why should the doctor be worried what others thought of him when none took time to truly listen and understand? Elias had already lost many because they did not hear him, but there were others who stayed and those were the people he had started to trust. Those that made him worry each day that they'd walk away, because what he said or did could've been taken in a different way than it was meant. As he thought on this, Taite Rushwood came to mind and her avoidance of this place. He'd only recently learned it was because he had hurt her feelings and yet he did not see how or why. No one would ever take the time to correct or explain, only judge and make up their own reasons. It was frustrating, but it was something he was slowly coming to terms with. He was not given another choice.
Elias' eyes returned to the page. He had planned on writing down the information of the patients that had stayed within the walls of the infirmary, but found himself unable to. They had gone now, leaving a letter and some coins to announce their departure. At least he had been assured that they would be safe, it spared him the trouble of needing to find such a place for them.
The doctor found himself staring at the door again. Slowly he pulled his eyes away and turned to make his way into the kitchen. There, on the table, laid a wide arrange of the dried herbs, berries and spices he had collected together as he planned on experimenting with a new mix for tea.
It was strange to think that him, Elias Dimheim, might have found something he could name a hobby. There was something relaxing about sitting down and experimenting with new flavours when it came to tea, it occupied his time and allowed his mind to be quiet for a few moments. All he needed was a sense of smell and taste.
Elias sat down by the table and looked over the selection. He still had some dry raspberries and chocolate from the summer of the previous year, when he'd stumble upon a merchant selling exotic goods from lands far and wide; chocolate had been something the doctor had been interested in. Though for different reasons when he'd bought it back then.
Now he sat there, wondering whether something could be made with it that would work for tea, whether it would have any effect on the body or mind.
While the possibilities wandered through the busy head, he turned to the chair that had been occupied by Vincent only few nights prior. It had been a curious visit and the man had taken interest in things that Elias rarely expected from his guests, yet something he enjoyed to muse on.
He had hesitated more when master Zurri woke and joined them in the kitchen. The doctor had recalled the look he was given the last time he'd spoken of such matters to the dwarf, having found himself uncertain whether he wished to speak of it again in Zurri's company.
In the end, he continued, but the doctor had not been oblivious to the look that Zurri had given him nor was he blind to the interest both Vincent and Aeruthuil took. What his guest had spoken of before departing had caught the doctor's curiosity and interest.
As he began his idle hobby-work, his thoughts were brought to the patient the woman had spoken of. The one who came looking for Autumn Crocus and seemed convinced that the doctor would part with such a dangerous plant without question. The man still wondered if there was any truth to her story, if there was any patient or if it was all a well crafted lie to get her hands on the plant. It was difficult not suspect miss Fay of such when the woman acted as if she was a healer and yet overlooked all other, safer, ways of treating gout. When he'd given her the list, the woman has appeared surprised by it.
He furrowed his brows, recalling the other woman who came in not long after he had moved here, asking for a dangerous plant. Thankfully, that woman had tried to convince him that poison from the plant was for the Watch. It was a foolish lie and one that the doctor had easily seen through, dismissing the customer. He began to wonder if Fay was another fool trying to scam poisonous flowers and herbs out of him with poor excuses. The doctor would have to be more wary of her in the future. The man wasn't a novice when it came to people trying to scam him out of medicine and other things that sat within the infirmary. It was a daily battle to separate those who needed the medicine from those who didn't.
An hour passed with the man's mind being relatively quiet, but as soon as his work stopped, the thoughts returned. He leaned back into his seat, staring towards the ceiling and gently placing his right hand against the chest, grasping at the chain that lay underneath the waxed leather.
So much had changed since he'd moved to this land. Everything continued to change, even himself. Elias was uncertain whether he liked these changes or not, some he enjoyed while others not as much.
Aeruthuil had offered to train him, to teach the man to fight and, for some reason, Elias had begun to consider it. He knew well he'd be laughed at, the man was weak and frail, but perhaps this would change it.
The hand slipped away, his eyes turning to the window nearby to study the light. It still felt alien to plan a trip home, but it was about time he returned, at least to feed the cat and have some food himself. Perhaps afterwards he would come back, it wasn't a long walk after all. Not yet. He sat back, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet.
Elias wasn't the same man that arrived here almost a year ago. It was strange to think it had been so long already, time had gone by quickly. He had met many people, few who had stayed long, fewer yet who took the time to understand him.
Thoughts turned to master Maddoct, perhaps the one who'd now stuck with the doctor the longest. They had their up and downs, but Elias never felt the fear that the dwarf would never return, not yet at least. The same thoughts had now turned to Aeruthuil, another one he could put his faith into. Even if the doctor's thoughts would be incoherent, odd or confusing, he didn't have to worry about this man getting insulted, upset or leaving without a word or explanation; as so many others had.
Even miss Gustine had suddenly vanished from his life without a word. They had never taken the time to learn to bake together and Elias still didn't know what he had done to wrong the cheerful Hobbit woman. Perhaps one day, he'd learn. For now, he was to learn cooking from the Ranger and upon Maddoct's return, he'd ask about the process of brewing ale. Since the one he'd thought of asking had decided to leave the land for good. Through his tea-making, the man had started to think of ways that he might be able to brew ale and bring something new around. It were only ideas now, but if he could find books on the process, perhaps the doctor could add to his hobby. He could hope, these were only thoughts now.
