Just a short ficlet, while I work on my next story. It's been a whole year since I started writing on Fan Fiction, and it's been such a great experience. It's a lovely, supportive community to attempt to write for. If you have a story in you, this is the place; give it a go.
All in a Day's Work
By Greenlips24
oOo
The unconscious man had arrived around an hour ago in a state of disarray. Dirty, dusty and with an impressive gash on his forehead, he had an equally impressive lump on the back of his head.
The young orderly had arrived at his side, where he had been sent to clean him up in preparation for the doctor. He was happy to do so. He was new, drafted in to help with the backlog. So far, he had been given the more mundane tasks; but at least he was enthusiastic and not jaded like some of the doctors he had seen here. Some of them looked like they had not slept in days.
He removed the man's heavy black leather glove, the other having been discarded before he had arrived. His leather jacket had already been removed, and was lying across a nearby chair. The orderly looked down at the man's muddy boots; he would need some help pulling those off.
The man was now showing signs of waking, so the young orderly quickly went in search of the doctor. Thankfully, he was already striding toward him. Like most of the doctors around here, he looked tired, but he took control. He had already examined the patient when he was first brought in; leaning over the bedraggled man and checking his pupils. Now, he did so again. Straightening, he gave a satisfied grunt.
The sudden intrusion roused the man further, and he groaned as he opened his green eyes and blinked at them.
"What happened?" he asked, groggily.
The doctor looked at him intently.
"I am told your horse shied away from the battle noise and you were thrown," he replied.
His accent was heavy, but his words were understood. They seemed to cause some concern, judging by the frown on his patient's face.
"Is the horse alright?" the man asked, in some alarm, which made the doctor smile to himself.
"Apparently, he is unscathed - unlike yourself. You have a concussion."
The man frowned at him now, slightly confused no doubt by the unexpected turn of events this morning had brought him.
"You should stay overnight here for your safety," the doctor was saying, his exhaustion more pronounced now. "You will have some nice bruising where you fell on your sword," he added.
The sword belt lay on the floor. The doctor nodded at the young orderly and he came forward and began to clean up their patient's face, grey with thick dust and grime. Leaning over the cut on his forehead, he gently wiped at the dried blood, matted in his long hair.
The man did not flinch.
As the orderly continued to wipe, his eyes widened as the blood gradually disappeared, but what was left beneath was clean, unbroken skin. At his surprised exclamation, the doctor looked up. He did not seem perturbed when he was shown the unscathed forehead, feeling instead the back of his patient's head, were it had apparently hit the ground; leaving him unconscious in the dirt.
The doctor briefly left, returning with a sheet of paper. He leant over and pressed a switch and the end of the bed began to rise. He removed the patient's neck brace; the x-rays had shown no damage. He clipped the sheet of paper onto a board and replaced it in the holder on the end of the bed.
"What part do you play?" he asked, looking up.
"Athos," the man replied, relieved to be released from the restriction that had held his aching head in place.
The doctor smiled. "I will be sure to watch," he replied. "I will organise some pain relief, but you will be fine after you rest. You were lucky, my friend." He pulled the curtain aside, and was gone.
A few moments later, when the orderly left, he was surprised to see several other fearsome looking soldiers in an equal state of disarray. They were causing quite a stir in the ER, clad in black dusty armour and searching for someone to ask how their friend was. A blonde woman wearing a sheepskin coat and green Barbour wellington boots appeared amongst them then, and went to Reception to ask for news of the English actor brought in earlier.
She was told he was awake and one of them could see him for a few minutes. A nurse was called over to escort one of them to the cubicle.
That caused another stir as they all began to argue which one would go. It was the dark-skinned giant with black curls who won and he stepped up to the appointed nurse, peering down at her, patiently waiting to be shown the way.
She did not speak much English, so she gestured and he followed in her wake as she led him down the short corridor. She could feel his towering presence behind her and felt a little intimidated. Reaching the curtain, she pulled it aside and he turned to her. He rewarded her with a nod and a smile that lit up his face, before he turned and strode into the cubicle.
She would need a translator who would put his next words into her native Czech for her, but they sounded like,
"Now then, you daft beggar, how are you feeling?"
"Two minute only," she said, in broken English, as she swished the curtain closed once more, leaving them alone.
Like the new orderly, she was having quite a day herself. Prague was certainly an interesting place to live.
End
A/N: I had a mind to put them out of context and create a little brain mayhem. Someone should really explain make-up to the orderly.
Thanks for reading!