Chapter Two: Needles and Thread
Eruthan did not leave straight away. Instead, he lurked outside the old man's tent until he was sure that his captain had gone back to sleep. Albaticus had the bad habit of slinking to his desk to shuffle through all the urgent paperwork that tended to accrue after such shenanigans before he was physically ready to do so. Eruthan was not the only one who was sick and tired of having to constantly call medics to restitch wounds or change dirtied bandages because their illustrious leader refused to stay put and heal properly.
How he had survived in the world thus far was anyone's wretched guess.
Tucking a few strands of ash blond hair that had escaped from his ponytail back over a pointed ear, Eruthan waited until he could hear Albaticus' deep, grating snores. And then, happy that he was not being duped into a false sense of security regarding a certain someone's well being (the captain had pulled this on him twice before), the elf strode leisurely off across the camp.
The Gilded Fangs had been his people for just over five years now. He knew every member's name and face and history, even if they had never said a word to him past 'yes sir'. After the casualty report that Gray had brought to his desk they now numbered at seventy two, although he was sure that figure would shift in the days to come. Most of them were rank and file soldiers, disillusioned with whatever war or nation they had come from. Some were ex-Inquisition agents and a few were rehabilitated Templar. They even had one Antivan noble tucked away in their archery squad, although Eruthan was of the opinion that he thought they didn't know about his title.
Albaticus vetted each one personally and tended to turn more away than he kept, but those that did end up staying were good folk to have. Stalwart. Loyal. Spirited. Eruthan liked being able to count himself amongst their ranks. Even if his own beginnings with them had been ... shaky at best.
Back in the present, however, the elf made past Korah's fire pit just in time to catch Tessa leaving with a heavy bowl of soup. The girl had stopped crying but now her expression was fierce; he knew she would just leave the food and back out if Albaticus was asleep or scold him something awful if he was not, so he let her go about her business, and simply nodded at their talented dwarven cook as he strolled by.
When The Gilded Fangs arrived in a location they attempted to set up roughly in the same pattern each time, so that no one got lost and things were readily accessible. The medical shelters they generally arranged neatly on the northernmost fringes of wherever they were, space allowing. Largely this was simply because it was far easier to carry in the wounded when one did not have to navigate through a badly pitched maze of guy lines, sometimes in the dark. Eruthan himself had fallen prey to this particular embarrassment more than once.
Of course, unofficially, it was widely accepted that the infirmary was assembled just a little way back from everyone else because their head physician did not enjoy aimless company, valued her privacy, and, quite frankly, a lot of people were scared of her.
As he padded towards the two yurts that they kept dedicated to the Fangs' surgery, Eruthan noted that only one was lit, as per usual. He lingered just for a second before peeling back the latticed threshold and making himself known to its occupants.
Needles sat with her back to her lieutenant, just off to his right as he closed the door behind him. She was hunched over one of her benches, working on something finicky, no doubt, as the only acknowledgement of his existence that she gave was the tiniest, strictest bob of her head before she returned to her concealed endeavour.
They were in no immediate danger then.
In the corner past her form was a slightly more comfortable set of bedrolls than the majority of them enjoyed, heaped up into one big pile. Next to them sat Grint, a surface dwarf from Redcliffe (or Denerim, or wherever else in Ferelden took his fancy when you asked) who, on a good day, could often be found sounding out ideas on how to woo their chef. None of his highly complex strategies of seduction ever worked, and Eruthan had lost count of the amount of times they had involved live chickens. Korah never relented to his advances, and thus Grint seemed to exist eternally in the role of determind, yet unrequited would-be lover. And sometimes he made a damned fine axe wielder too.
"Lad woke up, took one look at her, shrieked his head off for a bit and then fainted clean away," chuckled Grint, gesturing to the bed-mountain, "I almost felt sorry for him."
The dwarf patted the mound of blankets and Eruthan had to skirt around him to examine the face that just barely poked out of the top, settling down on one knee to get a better look at the invalid. He was tall creature but skinny for a human, with an unruly mop of curly brown hair and sallow, pale skin. His face was square jawed and his nose had obviously been broken once or twice, but he looked harmless enough in sleep, and if he reacted thus to Needles, they probably had nothing to worry about.
The lieutenant and his unit had seen the chantry collapse from the outskirts of the town, too far away to have done anything about it. They had just finished off the last of the demons that had been summoned by the wayward magisters but even if they'd have been able to run at full speed up the hill to the courtyard above, they never would have made it in time to help. When they had caught up to the flaming wreckage however, it was to find a perfectly spherical clearing right in the centre of all the horrendous, burning, blackened destruction. Albaticus and … this man had been contained within.
Tessa had given a decent enough report, but even she could offer no explanation of events past 'magic'. What sort of wizardry had been involved and the identity of their guest remained an enigma. He had not had anything on his person that would have signified that he was, say, from the College of Enchanters for example. And so Eruthan was more than marginally disappointed that the mysterious stranger had lapsed back into unconsciousness for the time being. He would have to wait a little longer for his answers.
"What sort of condition is he in?" The lieutenant asked Needles after a few moments, without looking up at her.
"Exhausted. Bruised. Severely malnourished."
"He'll live?"
"Yes."
There was a brief pause, and then Eruthan gave into temptation.
"... So ... what exactly did he scream at you ..?"
Needles said nothing, but she did offer a consolation prize by way of glaring at him over her shoulder, and Eruthan and Grint swapped wide grins.
"You'll keep him safe from her wicked ways I take it?"
"No one's safer than with me!" The dwarf chuffed with a wave of his beefy hands.
"I don't doubt that my friend."
Eruthan rose gracefully and clapped a palm to his friend's shoulder, stealing one last look at their visitor before he left.
"Let me know the moment he wakes properly. Grint, could you find Lienne? It might be good to have her on hand just in case he starts throwing magic around."
"... Wise." Needles commented.
A loud caw punctuated her remark from outside and, languidly, the woman finally rose from her chair. No wonder their guest had screeched so, especially if he happened to be from Tevinter, which Eruthan highly suspected was the case. Even with the new yurts they had bought last winter, the top of their surgeon's head still almost brushed the ceiling.
She moved with purpose, her gait solid and focused, the dusty gray of her skin shadowed black with only candlelight to pick out her figure in the darkness. Crimson eyes lay under a heavy brow which curled backwards into the horns that marked her race, and stark white hair wound its way in a thick, singular braid to the small of her back.
The Qunari stretched her hand to the outside, and when she pulled it back, it was with a brown and ivory speckled raptor attached to it.
"I hate that bloody thing." Grint grumbled sourly. Needles chuckled so quietly that Eruthan was not quite sure she had even done so in the first place, and she took the amiable bird of prey to his perch next to her desk, where he hopped off of her fist and helped himself to a few strips of almost-bad meat that his mistress had had ready for his return.
"I'd wager that he thinks of you no more fondly," the surgeon mused, far more talkative now she was apparently done with her previous task, "now unless both of you insist on disturbing me and my patient any longer, I suggest you set yourself to more agreeable tasks."
Eruthan did not lose his smile. He was used to her mannerisms and so was Grint, even if his interest in such ran only as far as he could successfully tease her. Still, the dwarf got up too as Needles shifted over to check on their new vagrant.
"I'll come with you to find Lienne, if you don't mind. I'm not so tired just yet."
"Of course."
The pair exited without bidding their towering healer farewell. Eruthan knew that even if he did offer such, she would not bother replying.
