(This incident took place after the fight with the frost giant at Vindurhaal)
In all the time she had been striving to join the Warband and after she had done so, Lilleduil had never known Khalis to be wounded. So she was shocked to see him rubbing his side and up under his sword arm after the fight with the ice giant, speaking to Faorie in a low voice. She kept an eye on him during their journey back to the camp and he seemed to be traveling well enough, though he complained once of missing the trail.
Once there, she was shocked all over again to see him doing what she had always named to herself The Flesh Wound Thing, where the wounded man or elf in question wandered off to casually examine the scenery (in Khalis’ case, some supply crates that couldn‘t possibly be that engrossing), listen to the drip of his own blood and debate whether it was worth troubling a healer over such a trivial injury. In Lilleduil’s experience they did this sometimes even if they were tripping over their own entrails or carrying one severed limb in the other hand. Thendryt did it too. She made a great effort to repress her irritation and walked over to him.
“Are you all right, Captain?” she asked quietly. Veryacano could just be heard mentioning casually (having no idea that this was an epochal, historic Event) that Khalis had sustained a minor injury. Faorie, hearing his words, looked over in their direction.
“Ice shards, like razors,” Khalis muttered low. “Some found holes in my leather cuirass. I should have brought the scale armor.”
“Do you want Norliriel to look at you, or shall I?” Lilleduil did not delude herself. Norliriel was much the better healer. She had always seen her job as the person who patched people up so that they’d last to get to the real healers.
“I would prefer you unless you think I need her skills. Just do not tell Thendryt or I will never hear the end of it.” Lilleduil suppressed a smile, but inwardly, the irritation was rising again. It figured that would be preeminent in the list of his concerns!
“Very well, Captain. You'll need to take the armor off.”
Norliriel, her keen healer senses alerted, started in their direction, only to be intercepted by Faorie, who raised her hand to her mouth in a hush gesture. “Khalis is well,” the champion said. “Please think nothing of it. And speak nothing of it.” Her tone was light and pleasant, unconcerned.
Norliriel nodded. “How about the others?” the healer asked. “Who is worst off?”
“Surely your kinsmen would be in more need of your skills.”
“That is why I am asking.” Norliriel had a gentle nature, but she could be implacable where healing matters were concerned, and that implacability was out in full force.
Faorie, however, was determined in her own right. “We will be fine here, thank you, Hiril.” She bowed deeply to the healer. Norliriel took the hint and moved off, and Faorie turned to watch Khalis and Lilleduil, her expression concerned.
While the exchange with Norliriel had been going on, Khalis had removed his chest armor, gambeson and stood shivering in the cold in his shirt. Lilleduil pushed the shirt up to examine his injuries. He’d been correct in how the wounds had been made-they were obviously punctures, none of them very deep at all, and nothing vital hit. But they were undoubtedly painful. He indicated with a gesture close to his body that there was one higher up on the right side. She pushed the shirt up further and frowned. That one was twice as deep as the others, and in a bad place, right in the armpit. Not severe in and of itself, but the area was prone to complications. And it was his sword arm.
Lilleduil dampened a pad of bandage with her wound washing solution and began to tend the lesser wounds. She could hear Veryacano berating Daegond in the background, something about not eating all the food himself…. An odd part of her hindbrain she’d never really heard from before suddenly piped up and noted that this was the first time she’d ever seen Khalis when he wasn’t completely covered from neck to toes in armor or court clothes and really, that was rather a shame because he was very nice looking… that giant ought to be killed all over again for punching holes in the pretty… this could be payback for the whole Enedwaith skinny-dipping thing… She forced it down, frowning, and concentrated on her work, aware of Faorie’s eyes upon them both.
“I’ll do this fast,” she promised Khalis, looking up from her somewhat stooped vantage point. He nodded. Faorie moved a little closer.
“It seems we will all be needing to pay Forostel a visit once we return to Imladris.” She grinned slightly, while continuing to watch Lilleduil work.
“At least ice is clean,” Khalis said, holding absolutely still as Lilleduil cleaned the wounds, though it must have hurt.
Curundar came over then, a pained expression on his face, followed closely by Thendryt. Lilleduil ignored them, mixing healing herbs in a salve to apply to the wounds.
“Yes, Curundar?” Faorie asked, brightly.
“I was hoping Lilleduil could patch up my right forearm, seems I got hit by one of the shards. But I see she's busy.”
Faorie cleared her throat.
“What’s going on?” Thendryt asked, a glimmer of interest on his face.
“Thendryt,” Faorie acknowledged. Khalis looked around and seeing Thendryt, rapidly pulled his shirt down, disregarding Lilleduil’s attempts to dress the wound. He gave her a stern look.
“I'll be glad to, Curundar. Just fixing some scratches for the Captain.” She looked inquiringly at the Man. “Are you hurt, Thendryt?”
“He is always hurt, one way or another,” Faorie commented. She grinned wryly.
Sometimes a frontal attack was the best distraction. Lilleduil looked hopefully at Thendryt, who returned her stare warily. “You know I always love stitching you up,” she said. “My needle is in here somewhere…” She began rooting through her pack.
Thendryt was quick to declare, “Not at all, I simply came to see where you all went.”
Khalis bent his head close as she rummaged. “Later perhaps, Lilleduil,” he whispered in Quenya.
She nodded, not happy at all about the situation, watching as he shrugged back into his armor and went and sat down, trying to look as if he were not hurt at all. Was his pretense of invulnerability so much more important than his health?
Poor Curundar ended up suffering for Khalis’ dignity in the end. He’d come to her with a forearm gash-nothing serious, it just needed a couple of stitches-and she’d set upon the idea of having Thendryt hold his arm still while she set them. Thendryt, having the rare opportunity to manhandle an elf with official sanction, quite enjoyed holding Curundar’s arm down on the tabletop. In fact, Lilleduil had to chide him for using excessive force. She’d hoped that would provide sufficient distraction. When she was done, she told the recruit, “If it starts to feel hot or inflamed, tell me. If you tear the stitches, tell me. You’re done. Go get something to eat, Curun.” The recruit thanked her in a low voice, ducked his head and almost scurried past Thendryt.
“Yes, off you go, Recruit,” Thendryt commanded.
Lilleduil began stowing her medical supplies.
“What was with the Captain?”
She shrugged, very conscious of the Man’s eyes on her back. Her tone, when she spoke, was noncommittal. “Couple of ice spikes got through his armor. Nothing major. Scratches, as I said.”
“Hmmmmmmm….” It was a very discontented sound.
Fastening the pack, Lilledul got up. “Now, if you don't mind, I haven't had the opportunity to even have a cup of tea since we got up here,” and stalked past him to the fire.
She spent the next couple of hours in a growing state of worry and irritation, as Khalis sat at the fire with his untreated injuries and chatted amiably with Hir Veryacano and other leaders of the Hammer and the Arrow, re-hashing the fight and discussing and refining tactics. Thendryt vanished after dinner, probably going off for a good brood-fest somewhere, so the opportunity existed to get the matter taken care of. She kept trying to catch her captain’s eye, but it always seemed to be elsewhere.
Virthalion showed up suddenly and a bit surprisingly, well after dark, his raven-friend Tindthurin upon his shoulder. Lilleduil was glad to see him, and since he’d kept his raven up after bedtime, she called Nissrovail. The two birds, black and white, immediately struck up a conversation and Virthalion, who had not met Nissrovail before, was gratifyingly complimentary. She’d hoped he’d prove an ally, but as Vanimar had all settled down to sleep, Khalis took advantage of the situation to start his tactics discussions all over again, under the guise of catching Vir up. He was being complimentary about Lord Dolthafaer’s prowess (an opinion Lilleduil happened to share), when she finally had enough.
“Captain, I need to take a look at your injuries. Now would be a good time.”
Khalis looked about the camp for a moment. “Yes, there is no Thendryt Morson to gloat.”
Belatedly, she realized that she might be stepping on Vir’s prerogative. She looked at him meaningfully, but the Caun just gave a casual gesture that she should proceed.
Khalis got up, and stepping over various sleeping Hammerites, made his way back over to the corner with the crates again, unbuckling his armor as he went. Lilleduil scooped up her pack and a teakettle of hot water and followed, Virthalion trailing after.
She pulled her bowls out of the pack, filled both with hot water and one with a packet of herbs to steep. Khalis stripped down to his shirt once more and lifted his right arm obligingly, holding it up to give her access to the worst wound. Lilleduil pressed it gently down again, as holding it up in that way had to hurt.
“Let me clean the others again while the herbs are steeping, and bandage them up,” she commanded as Vir looked curiously on.. He seemed disinclined to intervene at all, which she supposed was a vote of confidence of sorts. “We'll deal with the worst last.”
“Very well,” her captain said, his eyes roaming about the camp. A rider came in, a lone traveller obviously surprised at the presence of all the elves. Khalis smiled and inclined his head to the rider, Vir nodded and he and Vir both watched the individual while Lilleduil began to wash and dress the abdominal wounds.
“As you said, at least they're reasonably clean. As opposed to yrrch wounds.'
“That is very true,” Virthalion noted.
Lilleduil tied off the first bandage. Her captain looked down on the top of her head and grinned.
“Not too tight. I need to be able to move my arm, Lilleduil.”
“This is your belly, not your arm! Good thing I’m the healer, eh?”
More seriously, Khalis said, “I am more concerned with the deeper one.”
“I am worried about that one as well.” Lilleduil looked up and gave Khalis a direct look. “It's in a place prone to festering. And if it does, you're out of these mountains. I won't have you fighting in the cold with wound fever. Here. Rest your arm on my shoulder while I work on this.”
The captain obediently rested his forearm upon her left shoulder. It was surprisingly heavy. She ducked under it and finally began cleaning the larger wound. “This may sting a bit,” she warned.
“I am fine,” Khalis mumbled a bit through his teeth, though he held perfectly still.
Lilleduil looked up at him. “I meant what I said earlier, Captain. If I find you've been fighting with wound fever, I will absolutely shred your dignity. I will squawk like an offended raven, I will bring the healers of Vanimar down on you en masse and Thendryt Morson will know.” Her captain actually looked a little taken aback.
Virthalion had noted Caethel’s presence on watch and had been looking in that direction., but he looked back over his shoulder at this.
“She isn’t lying, my friend,” he said, and chuckled a little.
The herbs had cooled quickly in the frigid air. Lilleduil scooped them up in her fingers and spread them on a pad of bandage, applying it to the wound. She then began wrapping Khalis's chest to hold it in place. “While if you come to me first, we'll find some dignified excuse to get you back down to the valley.”
Khalis’s nose went up in the air in affront at that. “You mistake me for someone of a weak lineage, Lilleduil.”
Lilleduil snorted. He always brought up the lineage thing at the weirdest times… “No, I mistake you for a pig-headed Warbander, just like the rest of them! It's like there's a competition to see who can spurt the most blood and still fight. I am quite sick of it.”
“You know what I will say to that Lilleduil. I am a Warden.”
Lilleduil tied the bandage off and looked up to find him grinning broadly down at her.
“And you know what I say to that?” She blew a raspberry at him.
Virthalion, who was indeed looking as if he intended to chat Caethel up, turned to look at her and laughed before turning back and walking over to the Arrow.
“Very well. That's the first layer. Move about a bit and see how it works,” she told Khalis. “I'm going to put a bit more padding on top of it.”
“Yes, yes!” Khalis said, still grinning and obviously trying not to laugh. Lilleduil glared up at him. It’s because I’m short. That must be it. I don’t get any respect and no one takes me seriously because I. Am. Short!
She made another pad of bandage and strapped it firmly over the first one. “All right. You’re done for now. Armor up and see if it chafes.”
Khalis picked up his cuirass and dropped it over his head. “If it bleeds again or weeps, I will let you know rather than risk a blood disease.”
“That's the first bit of sense I've heard out of any of you in a while.”
“Me? I am very sensible.” One wouldn’t think Khalis could pull off a look of wide-eyed innocence, but he actually managed it. Lilleduil lifted an eyebrow at him as he started buckling his cuirass.
“I am not a warrior, but it seems to me that throwing a javelin is more stress on the muscles than swinging a sword? If that is so, you might not want to for a bit.”
Cuirass buckled, Khalis was settling his shoulder fleece into place. He looked warmer and more comfortable already. “It is. I will try to refrain from the javelin for a while.”
Lilleduil shook her head in disbelief. “More sense. I don’t know if I can stand it!”
Vir was rejoining them. He’d apparently been rebuffed. His darkling handsomeness, keen fashion sense, and overall air of dangerous, epic competence must have overwhelmed poor Caethel, who was rather shy. The Arrow probably wished that all the weird Warbanders would just leave her alone and let her stand her watch in peace!
“Go sit by the fire, Captain,” Lilleduil said. “No sense freezing when you don’t have to. And see that you get some rest tonight. And some food.”
Khalis grinned at her and slipped the last word in. “You sound like Lady Elisbeth,” he said, before he sauntered off with Vir to the fire. Leaving a rather surprised Lilleduil to clean up her medical things.
