Healing

The silence was almost deafening as Chris sat alone on the cot in the healing tent. Not ten minutes had passed since she had said her final goodbyes to Frodo, Sam and Sméagol but the rage of being abandoned was strong within her. She was angry that it was so quiet, that her injuries meant she could no longer go with Frodo, Sam and Sméagol to Mordor, that Elle had left her alone in a stupid world that didn't make sense, that Faramir had taken her captive and stolen her weapons, had made her wrists hurt and was stupidly good looking. It wasn't fair he was the bad guy here! And Varda, that bitch, everything was her fault! If she hadn't killed them none of this would have happened. She fumed thinking about all the things that had happened and in her anger kicked over the stool. It wasn't much the little thump of the wood hitting the stone floor gave her a little satisfaction. She wanted to break things, to scream and stomp like a child but the tent was just so bare. Eventually her anger gave way to thick sobs that she could no longer hold in, she tried but only made the warbling sound louder and more potent. In an attempt to muffle the sound of her weeping she pulled the small pillow from the cot and held it over her face.

In the midst of her thick tears and sobs Chris did not notice the sound of the tent flap being drawn back. Nor did she hear anyone enter to investigate the noises from within the tent. A gentle tap on her uninjured shoulder held her frozen. She had been caught out. She hated to cry in front of people and had always attempted to make her emotional breakdowns as private as possible. With the pillow still covering her face Chris attempted to act as if he hadn't caught her in the middle of her sobbing fit.

"Yes? Can I help you?" She asked, her voiced muffled from the pillow.

"I heard you crying from-" The distinctly deep male voice was unable to finish as Chris interrupted him.

"I'm not crying. You're crying!" She snapped wanting to be left alone and a giant hug at the same time.

"I see." He paused as she heard the stool being picked up and sat upon "and why am I crying?" He asked gently.

"Because the world's a horrible place and I'm in a lot of pain and Frodo is going to die and I miss my puppy!" she sobbed into the pillow with fresh hidden tears being absorbed into the fabric.

"I see, I have a lot on my mind." He said, after a moment of silence Chris heard him stand and leave the tent. With a great sense of relief Chris moved the pillow from her face, put it back on the cot and lay down. It occurred to her that she wasn't exactly sure who she had just spoken with but it didn't seem to matter as the awkward situation was done. So Chris lay there, hating the world and feeling sorry for herself. Her tears had subsided bringing on the headache that always came to her after she cried, making her day just that much better.

After another few minutes of staring dejectedly up at the tent the sound of someone entering made her head slump to the side wanting to see who had come in. It was Mablung with a pitcher of water and a pewter cup in his hands. He moved silently to sit on the stool and steadily poured out some water into the cup before he held it out toward Chris who was trying her best to ignore him.

"I thought I would need a drink after all that crying." He said making her realise it was Mablung who had been witness to her breakdown.

"You were right you do need a drink." She said propping her head up so she wouldn't need to fully sit up to drink, he handed her the cup and she took a small sip "A lot stronger one than water." She mumbled the last as she felt the cool water sooth her throat, that had been raw from her sobs, before she handed him back the empty mug and lay her head back down.

"Faramir should be back soon to see to your injuries. Will you be alright on your own for a little longer?"

"Yes, I don't need babysitting." She said clinging to her last shred of dignity.

"As you wish." He said with a smirk as he collected up the pitcher and mug. Mablung glanced at her before he left; the woman had strength of spirit, something he respected in a woman. Then he disappeared through the slit in the tent.

True to Mablung's word Faramir entered the tent not too long after Mablung's own departure. He stood there for a moment looking at her intently, unwittingly making Chris feel quite uncomfortable.

"Let's have a look at that head wound." He said finally having finished glancing over her obvious injuries. Slowly Chris attempted to pull herself up ignoring the pain it caused her shoulder. Seeing this Faramir quickly helped her up trying to stop her injuries from getting any worse. Though she preferred to be self-reliant Chris made no comment about Faramir helping her, she had already made the pain worse there was no point pissing off more people.

"Looks like you won't need stiches. You bled a lot though; you may want to wash your hair." He said with the hint of a smile as he went over to the satchel, pulled out an assortment of herbs and crushed them into paste using a pestle and mortar that had been tucked away in the satchel. When he returned to his perch behind her she could smell the paste, it was a strange bitter smell, before he smoothed a portion onto her cut.

"Ow! That stings! I thought you said it wasn't that bad!" Chris snapped as she attempted not to flinch as he applied more.

"I said it won't need stiches. This is so it will not become infected." He clarified before he placed the leftover paste onto of the stool. He stood again and then started to look at the bloody patch of her thigh. "I need you to remove your breeches so I can have a look." After a moment he realised what he had said, to a Lady, and hurried to make sure there was no misunderstanding. "At the wound… on your leg." Chris noted his slight discomfort but was too busy to think about it as she was trying to figure out a way to actually comply. There was no way she could support her own weight and remove said item of clothing.

"Yeah, I'm gunna need you to help." She said finally. First he would need to get to the wound so he pulled out his knife and told her to lie on her side. Luckily her shoulder injury was on the same side as her leg wound so she was able to comply without too much fuss. Once she was still he sliced open the fabric from the ankle to a few inches above her wound so he could move the material out of the way. The large expanse of flesh that was revealed suddenly made Faramir very much aware that he was seeing to a woman and quickly stood, averting his gaze.

"I'm no healer but I'm sure you have to look at me to heal me." Chris said staring at his back. Faramir seemed a little unsure at first but then decided to pretend it was just one of his men that were injured.

He bathed the wound as gently as he could so he could get a good look at it but the flesh was tender and he could not help but cause Chris some minor pain. When he was done he looked at the wound in earnest. It was strange, the puncture marks and the slicing in her skin, it looked scarily as if she had been bitten by a fell beast.

"How did you come by these wounds?" He asked needing to know to be able to treat her properly.

"One of those flying things used me as a chew toy." She said irritated at the memory and the physical pain she felt.

"But…" He paused looking down at the torn but otherwise healthy skin. "There is no sign of the beasts' poison."

"I guess it didn't hold on long enough to poison me?" she said poorly, finally understanding what Varda had meant by the poison being purged.

"That may be, but these defiantly need stiches." Faramir informed her as he pulled out needle and thread from a pouch on his belt.

"No they don't, just put more of that smelly gunk stuff on and it'll be fine." Chris floundered with her eyes fixed upon the needle in his hand.

"I bow to your wisdom, but you are the patient so stay still." He said placing the paste on the floor and pulling the stool over so he could sit on it while he mended her leg. But every time he got close to starting she would bat away his hands. With need to distract her he decided to try and get her talking. "Frodo and Sam are brave to be undertaking such a task and from what he said about your companions it seemed like an interesting fellowship. How did you come to be part of it?" He asked successfully distracting her enough to start sowing her flesh together.

"I have this friend, an elf who I was visiting, who dragged me along to this council meeting. Ow, damn it! I thought you were meant to be good at this."

"Sorry."

"Gondor was being all noble and everyone else was being represented, so I couldn't let Rohan down. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do."

"I think it was a brave thing you did. Not many in your place would have done the same."

"Indeed it is remarkable how stupidity, ow, and bravery turn out to be the exact same thing."

"Did you leave many behind to partake in your quest?" he asked glancing up from his work before looking back down, attempting to seem casual instead of directly asking her marital status.

"No, I had none to leave behind."

"I'm sorry, I should not have asked."

"It's fine, an innocent question."

A silence passed between them as Faramir continued to patch her wound and Chris attempted not to flinch or whine. He was almost finished with his task before he spoke again.

"Will you return to Rohan when you are able?"

"What, are you not taking me to Gondor as your prisoner?"

"I meant when that was all over. Providing you are still able to do so."

"I have no idea, I hadn't expected to live through this."

"One such as you should not be thinking of death."

"What do you mean 'one such as me'?"

"One so young and beautiful."

Chris froze unsure what to do and suddenly very aware that an incredibly attractive man had his hands all over her leg, albeit stitching her up but the point still stands, awkwardly she cleared her throat making a strange squeaky noise as she did.

With the stitching finished and covered in the disinfecting paste, he pulled out clean bandages from the satchel and wound them around her leg. Once finished he helped her back into a sitting position so he could properly examine her shoulder. It was dislocated but would be fixed easily as long as Faramir put it back properly. After he gently felt the joint to figure out how far out it was he swiftly put one hand on her shoulder, the other on her wrist and then he twisted the wrist so the arm was in the correct position then pushed up with the hand on the wrist and in with the hand on the shoulder. With a pop and several loud profanities the shoulder was back in place.