((Author's Note: This story takes place in a world without the LOTR books. [I know, it's hard to imagine, isn't it?] This makes it easier to explain why they haven't caught on by the end of this chapter that the patient is a Hobbit.))

CHAPTER TWO: Patient Care

"Focus, Beck," he told the EMT, a little bit gruffer than he intended to sound. After all, he was also talking to himself. This kid could be dying out here, regardless of what age his face made him look, and now was not the time to get gawky or dissituated. They could ask the kid his real age later, if it was a matter of the patient care report. "Start taking vitals."

"Okay," Becky nodded and moved over to palpate the wrist of the right arm. After thirty seconds, counted by her glow-in-the-dark wrist watch, Becky switched to the left wrist, the forearm of which was bowed inward and badly bruised. Ben took the opportunity to apply a cervical collar while she did this so he could free up his hands to staunch the bleeding of the boy's scalp, which had definitely lessened since the call was made, judging by the copious amounts of brown splotches all over his shirt and vest.

"Pulse is eighty," Becky reported, and as Benjamin got a box of gauzes out of the kit he handed his partner the sphygmomanometer. The young woman, her face now having adopted his own air of professionl calm, wrapped the navy blue cuff around the patient's arm and began pumping it up as Ben ripped open the box of gauzes and started applying them to where the blood was coming from.

As he did this, Ben took the opportunity to gently feel along the skull, checking for gooseggs or cuts as well as the tell-tale depression or tenderness signifying a skull fracture. He detected no depressions, but took note of the inflammation beneath the cut he was staunching and the scrapes and bruising on the boy's face.

"Blood Pressure one-ninety over forty," Becky announced, "Respirations five a minute unlabored."

He's going to have one hell of a black eye, Ben noted, gingerly prodding the facial bones to check for anything traumatic there, and boy, is he going to have a headache... The patient's nose appeared slightly crooked and had bled, but there was no blood coming from the ears, which gave Benjamin more reason to hope that the kid's skull had survived the accident suitably intact. Applying a gauze to the base of the nose to absorb whatever blood might spontaneously decide to spring forth, Ben drew his penlight to take a look at the patient's pupils.

"Take a look at his right ankle," he told Becky, remembering what the dispatch had said about a dark swelling there, "And get that arm splinted." Raising the patient's eyelids, Ben flashed a light on the olive-colored, gold-green irises and took note that only one of them was constricting properly; the other one seemed a bit lazy and uncooperative, definitely indicating at least a concussion. The patient's breathing was very faint, as Becky had told him, so just to be sure Benjamin put a non-rebreather over the patient's face; you could never go wrong by giving somebody oxygen. Before doing this the paramedic made sure to insert an adjunct to keep the patient's tongue from falling back into his throat and cutting off the airway. It would also let him know the moment the kid started waking up, due to the gag reflex that would automatically kick in.

The left humerus splinted, Becky moved downward and began a focused examination of the patient's ankle. She sucked in a breath through her teeth at the sight, and when Benjamin looked down and caught a glimpse, he couldn't blame her. It looked like the wheel had run right over at least part of it, and the entire right calf was dark and swollen. Ben didn't doubt that had he poked it with a pin it would have deflated just like a balloon, spraying both him and his young partner with the oxygen-giving fluids.

Seeing Becky grow pale, Ben took mercy on her. After all, this kind of thing took a lot of getting used to, and she'd only been on the job for a couple months, this being a rather quiet town when it came to crime and trauma. "Hey, Becky, go on and get Liu and tell her to come over her with a vaccum splint while you get some more info off of the driver."

Becky looked at Ben with an apologetic glance - she could guess why he was sending her away - but she didn't argue. Getting to her feet, the nineteen-year-old girl walked over and talked breifly with Sonni, who soon came over with her professional face on.

"It looks pretty bad," she commented, underestimating deliberately.

"Yep, it does," Ben replied; he and Liu had been working the same truck for years, so they had developed ways of telling each other when and when not to get literal or stidgey. "I'm going to take another set of vitals. I just want you to take care of that for me."

Liu nodded without another word and set to working on the damaged leg. Ben couldn't help but notice, now that he was comparing them to Liu's tiny frame, how truly big those feet were on this character. Even this kid's grandad couldn't have have feet that big... unless, of course, it was genetic. He wasn't about to say anything while he was standing over him, but those were some seriously big feet.

Just as he finished counting the kid's pulse, a gagging cough sounded from the patient's throat as he began to wake up. Convulsing out of instinct, the kid's eyes were darting from side to side in panic by the time Ben got to him to remove the OPA from his throat. Gently but firmly removing the boy's frantic hands from where they were grabbing at the mask, Ben lifted the non-rebreather and drew out the OPA, thus removing the main issue. Ben quickly glanced back at Liu to make sure that everything was okay at her end before trying to place the NRM back on his patient's face.

The kid recoiled and turned his older-looking face away from it. "Rehi," he pleaded weakly in a foreign language, raising his hands to push the mask away once more, "Kodwuul rehi..."

If Hindi was a purebreed Saluki hound and Welsh was a Border Collie, then this kid's language was the ugliest yet most attractive-looking mutt Ben had ever seen as it came to languages. In accordance with the small one's wishes, the paramedic set aside the non-rebreather and replaced it with a nasal cannula. The patient tried to turn this one down as well, but there must have been something about Ben's expression that told the little guy that saying no - or 'ray' - would not be a wise move this early in the morning.

The patient's complaints subsided into small whimpers and moans as Liu worked on his crushed ankle. It was sad to consider, but the fact was that the kid would probably never walk on it again. Benjamin couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid as he watched him try to cope with what had to have been an enormous amount of pain with the resolve of a storm trooper. A single tear escaped for the fraction of a second as Liu carefully began palpating the calf itself, as well as a child-like whimper of pain; it was at that time that Ben decided to start asking the patient questions - or try, anyway.

"My name's Ben," he said first, introducing himself to ease the tension, "What's your name?"

The boy glanced anxiously at him for a moment before stammering, "N-name? Sin-sindri."

"Sindri?" Sounded Indian. "Where do you live, Sindri?"

"Wh-where?" the kid looked confused for a moment, which wasn't to say that he had already appeared disoriented and extremely scared of what was going on around him.

"Where do you live?" Ben repeated with patience. Training to handle other people's stress, especially the stress and fear that was associated with pediatric or child patients, was all part of passing the National, and having one of his own Ben knew exactly how to handle this so he could get the patient to feel somewhat at ease, distracted from what was going on down by his right foot.

"Wh-where..." Sindri repeated, trailing off for a moment before launching into a breif but fluent sputter of his own language. Ben took a breath and tried again.

"What language are you speaking?" he decided to ask Sindri, touching a finger to his mouth, then pointing toward Sindri.

Instead of respoding with words, the small person reached futilely for one of the scattered candy bars, replying with, "Chocolate..." Burying his frustration at being misunderstood, Ben tried to focus on the fact that at least now he knew where Sindri's mind was at as he picked up the chocolate bar and handed it to Sindri with a helping, reassuring smile. Sindri took the bar without hesitation, but looked carefully from it to Ben a few times before judging that it was safe to open up the wrapper and take a bite.

Like a racoon, it occured to Ben as he watched Sindri nibble self-consciously on a broken piece, he's like one of those racoons Alyssa always feeds her snacks to after school.

"What language," Ben tried again after a moment, this time speaking clearly and carefully so as to not be misunderstood again, "Are you speaking?"

Sindri looked at him, blinking a few times as he tried to figure out what been was getting at before finally the kid replied, "Ardalam."

Ardalam? Definitely Indian. Ben looked in the direction of where Becky was and called out to her. "Becky, get on the phone and contact the Federal Service, will you?" He didn't want to mention the FBI in particular, because that would give a definite impression that something was the matter with the patient, and gossip flew faster than a jackdaw in a hurricane.

As Becky excused herself from entertaining Maxon and his daughter (who seemed quite entertained already with her rapid-fire texting), Ben took a look at Liu's work and saw that she was just finishing up.

"Once you're done with that, you can go and get the backboard out of the truck," Ben told her, and the woman nodded, finished what she was doing and took off. Sindri nibbled some more on his chocolate.