She shouldn't have been surprised that in bringing Samuel home with her she'd gotten herself into a bit of a mess. But honestly, on the way up the mountain as she'd been thinking about how to help him she just hadn't considered how much there was to do! In the two or three hours since she'd returned from the market, since Rumpelstiltskin had touched her arm and dismissed her, she felt as though she'd been everywhere.
He was of course right where Rumple had said he would be. Upstairs. In one of the rooms that she'd cleaned out, laying on the bed. It was a simple room, small, probably something that a servant should have had instead of a dungeon. It held a small chest of drawers, a mirror, and chair that Samuel's small knapsack was hung over, and a small table where she found the rag and bandages the man that had been with Samuel had given her when she'd taken him off his hands. There was a hideous bear skin rug she hated in the center but for the most part it was friendly and clean now that she was here. In fact the window with the simple curtain draped over it held one of her favorite views of the mountains. A view Samuel couldn't see and wouldn't unless she helped him.
She'd gotten him situated; did her best to make him as comfortable as possible despite the fact that he wouldn't open his eyes and only ever burst out in small groans and moans of pain. She quickly felt his skin again, determined that he was still running a fever and made a trip to the library for every book that she had that mentioned fever. her experience with magical wounds was limited to restoring lost memories, not that she'd been successful with that of course. But beyond that she'd never studied medicine before and had never had to know how to treat a fever. As a child, even as an adult, when she got sick a doctor was always called and after a few strict days of her nurses and parents forcing her to follow through with "doctors orders" she'd been better. But she'd never actually understood what it all meant! She did now.
A fever was a sign of infection. Though it couldn't be proven, the theory was that the body began to heat itself up in an effort to fight the source of the infection. Which would be all well and good if fevers left unattended didn't have the power to kill. That was something she didn't expect. The body needed to do it, but at the same time it had to be watched carefully so that the body didn't "overheat".
With that she pulled the blankets and sheets away from Samuel, afraid to make him too hot. Then she went down into her kitchen and retrieved a bowl, filled it with cool water, gathered rags, and returned upstairs to wipe him down. Her forehead, wrists, and the back of her neck. As a child she could remember being sick and having people lay cool clothes over her in those areas. There was no possibility of placing one over his neck, but before she left for dinner, prompt as ever to please Rumpelstiltskin, she tied two to his wrists. She checked his forehead before she went on, pulled the bandages from the "non-enchanted" injury away and examined the small head wound. There was dried blood around a cut just by his hairline but once she washed it out and determined it truly wasn't bad she didn't re-bandage it, just left a cool towel over his head to keep the fever in check before leaving to start dinner.
She served dinner quickly, hoping that she could eat quickly with Rumple and get back to her patient, only when she finally delivered dinner to the great hall she found her chair, usually placed at the opposite end of the table by Rumpelstiltskin, in its normal spot by the fire. "I assume as I've seen no evidence of miraculous healing you'll be spending more time with your charge," he mentioned at her confused face.
His words brought a sigh of relief as he started on dinner without her. She'd expected and wanted to eat dinner with him, just as she always did now but…now that he mentioned it she should be upstairs with Samuel. "I'd…I'd like that, yes," she stuttered looking down at him, almost sad to see him eat alone. Was it just her, or did he show signs of being unhappy at the prospect as well? "If…if you don't mind, of course."
"Mind?!" he piqued suddenly. "What does it matter to me so long as the dishes get done and breakfast gets made?" The way he avoided her eyes made her frown, her heart split in two as she realized she'd much rather take in a silent dinner with him than a busy evening with an old friend. It was the right thing to do, going to Samuel, saving his life just as she had the rest of the people from her village, but it made her feel guilty. It made her feel like she'd invited a stranger into their protected space and taken something away from him. From her. He was lonely. She was lonely on the mountain. Being lonely together…
It was something they'd have time for later. It was something they'd have years for, maybe even centuries for. Forever. She'd promised to stay here with him in his loneliness forever. Samuel only needed a few days. Still, she found herself kneeling down by him, so he'd be forced to look at her, so he couldn't hide his upset or hallow disappointed eyes in his soup, and she dared to reach out and try what he had, to see just how comfortable he was. She placed her hand over his and felt herself smile when he didn't flinch, not a single muscle in his hand twitched at the touch.
"Thank you for understanding how much he needs me," she whispered. Then, before he could rebut her or add something nasty or cruel for the sake of keeping her at a distance, she collected her tray of food and walked out of the room and back up to Samuel. She'd been optimistic and poured a bowl of soup for him as well but honestly didn't think he'd awaken or be strong enough to have it. Still, it was the thought that counted.
There had been no change in him from when she'd left him. He was just as lifeless as she'd left him. But then again that shouldn't have surprised her either. It was simple logic. Cause and effect. His physical problem was only the effect of a magical cause. If she wanted to truly fix the effect she had to focus on the cause. As she sat at his bedside, wringing her washcloth to pat his face down once more she realized that in this case books on medicine would only get her so far. They couldn't cure him, but they might help her keep him alive long enough to find the real culprit.
Her eyes fell on the bandage around his leg, the one that she had yet to unwrap and redress though her books told her she had to. An enchanted blade. That was what the man had told her was responsible. That was what she needed to find.
With a final pat, she set the bowl aside and went back up into her library, to a section that she rarely used, never used in fact! The only reason she was familiar with it was because she'd made it her business to know everything about this library. Unfortunately there were only a couple of books on magical metallurgy, but there were more books on magic. One by one her eyes scanned titles, opened their pages, read what they were about searching for the ones most likely to help her friend.
"Legendary Creatures of the Realms"…"Mythical Monsters and How We Can Search for Them"…"Non-Human Species of Mist Haven"...
She plucked that book off the shelf. If it was something the ogres had done to him then it should be mentioned in there if it spoke of their arsenal.
"Magical Mechanisms Made Famous by Famous Wizards"…"Enchanting the Ordinary"…"Cursed Objects Among the Blessed"...
She grabbed that one too.
"Tricks for Healing Mortal Wounds"…"Finding the Curses For The Enemy"…"How to Use Extraordinary Fauna to Heal and Ward Off Illnesses and Other Curses of a Dark Nature"...
She took a breath at that mouthful. It wouldn't exactly have been her first choice for a title, but at least it was specific and she grabbed that book as well.
Anything she could find she piled into her arms and carried down into Samuel's room. It might have been easier to stay in the library but she had to be there with him. He couldn't wake up to wipe his own forehead she had to be there to do it for him. Difficult as it was, she had to be a doctor as well as a caretaker all at once. She was tired. It was certainly passed the time that Rumpelstiltskin would have retired, herself included. But she didn't let that phase her. She read. She read everything that she could, when she got tired she found some quick little task or chore to do, like eating and washing dishes, something mindless that kept her body busy while her brain worked.
"Magical curses and wounds are among the most difficult to be treated as even the smallest are warded against healing…"
"The worst curses live within the skin of the victim, sometimes they effect the flesh living the body in impossible head to toe agony, other times the curse knits flesh back together permanently making any attempt to remove the magical stain futile."
"Those who survive magical ailments to the body have often sought help from magical practitioners of the opposite magic. Light for dark, dark for light…"
Half the time she didn't even know what she was reading, this was all so new and strange to her. Light and dark magic. She remembered reading about that when she'd read about the rock trolls but she just couldn't remember what exactly she'd read. It was so late!
"When attempting to cure a human suffering from magical repercussions made physical, the first step is sometimes to admit that nothing but comfort can be granted in the victims final days." She sighed. That was encouraging. "However, those who are persistent in treating others will often say that the first place to begin is the identify the ailment fully. Assess the victims symptoms so that the location and nature of the curse can be properly identified. Vomiting, bloody nasel discharge, stool, or urine are signs of an internal curse working through the body. Stiff muscles, limp body parts, difficult or shallow breathing, rapid or slow heartbeat are all symptoms of curses that effect the muscles. Poor or sudden loss of eyesight, speech, smell, taste, or hearing are often associated with the brain and considered the most hopeless of causes. Skin discoloration, unhealed or improperly healed wounds, consuming, unpredictable, and implacable pain are all symptoms that a curse has worked its way into the skin of the victim."
That was helpful. Horribly depressing because of what the other book had said but it was the first thing that she understood and seemed helpful! She paged through the book she'd found until she found the section dedicated to the skin curses. They were awful, to say the least. It turned her stomach just reading about them and seeing the illustrated pictures in front of her but one thing became abundantly clear as she read. There would be guess work involved in this.
No book was going to give her step by step help and she wasn't a doctor or a sorcerer…at some point she was going to have to start making educated guesses on what was going on with him and how to treat him. With her luck, after a few days Rumpelstiltskin might grow tired of this and be willing to help but she had to accept the fact that he might not and she couldn't rely on the fact that Samuel had a couple of days for Rumpelstiltskin to come around. She was on her own for now. And if educated guesses were the best she could do, then she had to be educated.
She learned that she could tell a lot about a wound by looking at it. Was it bleeding? How much blood was there? Were there any bugs or animals attracted to it? Any strange smells? Was the cut clean or jagged? Did it grow over time? Was there anything in the cut? Pus? And amulet? A shard of metal? How far did the pain radiate? Did it appear to be in shades of red and purple or was the green or even yellow colors to it? Those were all bad signs but she didn't know because she hadn't looked yet. According to the book, looking at the wound would be incredibly helpful to determine what had injured him.
With trembling fingers, she apologized uselessly for any pain she might cause him and timidly opened the bandage on his leg up. She sighed as she looked it over. It looked…ordinary. If the man hadn't told her that it was something enchanted that had hurt him she might have never guessed it was magical! It wasn't bleeding. It smelled only like sweat and dirt, like it hadn't been touched in days but certainly not like rot! She wasn't an expert but it looked clean enough. Like a sword or a knife could have done it to him, frankly it didn't even look that deep! No strange colors, no growing, no pus or stray metal, certainly no amulet, and she'd love to ask him about the pain but a glance up at his closed eyes told her that asking wouldn't do any good.
It was strange how something this small could claim so much of his life. But then again it wasn't the wound that was causing his decline, not exactly. It was magic.
"We're going to fix you up, Samuel," she whispered into the air as she sealed the bandage back over his leg and reached for the cloth to dampen his forehead once more. "Though the books say even a small wound from an enchanted weapon can be difficult to heal…I'll find something," she resolved confidently. "I promise I'll figure something out. I just have to figure out what weapon hurt you."
That was the question now. Which weapon was responsible for this? She had books on weaponry scattered around the room, it would take days to search them all but she could figure this out she knew she could. Ogres! He'd been in an ogre war and held at an ogre camp that was the first place to begin! Only…that seemed to lead her to nothing but a single, unhelpful paragraph.
"Ogres are nasty brutes that tend to rely more on physical strength and crudely made weapons like clubs and on occasion blunt swords fashioned from inappropriate metal. Because they are blind and rely on sound and smell, swords used are used improperly and victims are often crushed in the end. There is no record of any ogre using anything more than a club to great success."
So, unless Samuel was the most unlucky one of a kind man in the world, an ogre hadn't done this. But he'd been held in a camp, along with other humans that had been rescued with him from all over. There was no telling what Samuel or any of them had done to survive! It's possible a fight had broken out in the camp and, although she hated to think about it, a human could have done this to him. Over shelter. Food. A fire. Anything. She had no idea the kind of life he'd been living. But she could only imagine that the items with him would have also been crude, made from scrapes or things that they picked off the dead they encountered or things they found in the woods foraging.
Weapons were easy to enchant, according to the book. In fact, it was common practice in certain armies to enchant swords, shield, knifes, anything really! In one country plagued by giants a potion that was toxic to giants was prepared and carried with the army. Before battle the swords were permeated with them so a single stick could take one down entirely.
But Samuel wasn't a giant and that concoction was harmless to humans.
In another country, a sword had been placed in a stone to…no. She knew that story. Camelot. Her cheeks reddened, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk at just the thought of the Gauntlet, but she had to move on.
Swords could be steeped in poison, she learned, but little else. Their size made them too big and unpredictable to carry simple enchantments. Knifes on the other hand where better for curses and spells. The metal was more concentrated and they were so small that they could possess the entire weapon ensuring that the entire curse transferred. "After all," one book added grimly "when using a dagger against an enemy it is almost impossible to use only half!"
She hated it, but it was true. A dagger then. Or a knife. Magic wasn't readily available in the Ogre camps, or so she imagined, but it was around them. So she needed a myth or a legend of a dagger that was already possessed or documentation of an army or warriors carrying around cursed daggers they could easily misplace. Well…those stories were in no short supply.
"The Cats Eye Throwing Dagger is able to find the heart of any target", "…the people of King Furgus land were known to use daggers that heated into burning temperatures on contact…", "Daggers of silver are said to ward against werewolves while those of iron protect against fairies…", The Knife of Agora Nicen…", "The Tall Tale of a King and his golden dagger and it's ability to turn any enemy into solid profit!", "…the mysterious disappearance of the Dark One's Dagger...".
Her heart jumped into her throat at those words. In fact for a moment she felt like the world stopped spinning and she stopped breathing as her body tingled. Had she read that right? "The Dark One's Dagger"? The Dark One as in…
Her eyes quickly glanced over at the door and she half expected to find him there, leaning up against it, eyeing her suspiciously. But she was alone. In this little room. No one but Samuel with her. And a book with a very, very tempting passage.
A passage. Just words on a page. They wouldn't hurt anyone. The book was in her library, she could have found it any day and read it! Her heart was leaping in her chest as she held the book closer and looked down at the passage, an image of a small, jagged dagger with purposely unreadable glyphs on it's blade stared back.
"Perhaps the most sought after piece of weaponry in the world is also the most illusive and mythical. Today, the mysterious disappearance of the Dark One's Dagger is shrouded in unconfirmed tales so thick telling fact from fiction has become nearly impossible. The Dark One has become a monster in the lands of Mist Haven, and a children's fable in other realms used to frighten boys and girls into submission or keep them from lying. However many of the legends of the Dark One's origins suggest that he was once far more monstrous and sinister than he appears to be today.
"The true origins of the Dark One are numerous. In fact it has been suggested that there are none left in this world that truly know how the Dark One came to be in the realm of Mist Haven. However, nearly all the legends tell of an attempt at redemption for the Creator of the Darkness. After years of watching his Creation wreak havoc not just on the land of Mist Haven but other realms both magical and non-magical the Creator finally saw his Creation for what it was: and abomination. He sought desperately to destroy it, but could not tame the Darkness he'd given life to. In desperation he visited a Sorcerer of Light who crafted for him a vessel of Dark Magic, one that could be used to bind the Darkness to a living being and make it bend it's will to the master of the vessel; a dagger.
"After months of searching the Creator and the Sorcerer of Light finally confronted the beast. There was no winner in this great battle, but there was a still a great price to be paid. As the closest living soul, before the Darkness could flee, the Sorcerer of Light bound the Darkness and the dagger to the Creator himself as punishment. Thus, legend states that the Creator became the Created.
"For years The Creator lived attempting to fight off his own creation living inside of him but in the end it proved futile. There was no light in what he'd crafted and so eventually the darkness invaded and began to eat its way into his very heart and soul. This is where legends of the dagger begin to deviate.
"Some believe that the Sorcerer of Light kept the dagger for himself under the most powerful of protection spells. However when the Sorcerer died so did the protections and the Dark One took the dagger, freed himself, and escaped into the world again. Other tales claim that the dagger was stolen while in the custody of a trusted friend of the Sorcerer. The true nature of this story, like the origins of the Dark One himself, are too many to be told and the truth of each one is undetermined. For centuries the the myth of the dagger has come and gone. Many claim to have possessed it and used it, few have claimed to have seen it.
"The first, and perhaps most well known, supposed sighting was the tale of a man who, in a jealous rage over his wife's betrayal, demanded the Dark One kill his wife, children, and grandchildren as well as burn their farm to ash. The Creator had no choice but to obey. Legend says that when a local neighbor realized what had happened he stole the dagger for himself. The Dark One begged his new captor for release from his prison but none came and the dagger changed hands dozens of times leaving a trail of bloody and broken bodies behind it until one day the Creator, driven nearly insane by his Creation convinced another man to slaughter him with the promise that he would inherit the power for himself. It was a deal the man could not pass up.
"Since then, over the centuries there have been only a handful of beings, male and female, to inherit the curse of the Dark One and only a few verified sightings of the supposed dagger. According to legend some have been smart enough to possess the dagger for themselves, others found it in the hands of those wishing to use it for terrible purposes. At the time that I write this passage the location of the Dark One's Dagger is currently unknown and has not been known for at least three decades. It was last believed to be with a noble man who misplaced it in a house fire and many believe that the thief who stole it hid it well and controls the current Dark One, others believe thief has since become the Dark One, while still others boast that the Dark One's Dagger is nothing more than myth and legend, meant to give hope to those living under the shadow of Dark Magic that Light Magic can prevail. The truth remains a mystery."
Her eyes sought the door again when she finished, still expecting him to be lurking over her shoulder but she was still alone.
Was this true? Or just folklore as the book's author suggested? No one really knew what had happened? It was possible this was all crazy! Nothing in her research on the Dark One, at home or in Arendale, had ever turned up anything like this! And she'd been living in this castle for months now, she knew it perfectly, every nook and cranny, in fact if she thought hard enough she could probably picture every weapon, dagger or not, within these walls. She'd never stumbled upon anything that looked like the picture before her! But then…
No, she hadn't stumbled upon anything. She'd seen something. That night that he'd summoned the Black Fairy, he'd been holding something, a knife that she assumed he would use to hurt the woman but...could it have been more than that?! She'd never really gotten a good look at it, and she hadn't seen it since then.
But he'd never been inside that vault of his. No windows, no doors, the place he kept the most powerful magic, or at least that was what she assumed he kept there. Was it possible he was also keeping…
Next to her Samuel gave another groan as he shifted that nearly made her jump out of her skin. Her heart raced as she checked the door again and slammed the book closed feeling strangely like she'd just walked in on something private, like the remembrance she'd disturbed. Quickly she reached for the cloth and began to pat her friend down again. Whether the dagger existed or not it didn't matter.
What mattered was Samuel and that was definitely not the enchanted item she was looking for.
So with this chapter...I wanted to have her learn of the dagger but I didn't want her to know about it for sure, I wanted to save that later for Rumpelstiltskin. So with the passage in the book I tried (as is often my technique) to make it ambiguous so that if we ever really learn the origin of the Dark One, and I do believe we will, or get a story that contradicts that one then I won't have to edit it because the book doesn't promise truth, just truth as the author believes it. K?
Peace and Happy Reading!