To Healers and Mayhem

"The why you do something is important." ― S.K. Ali

Bard killed the dragon with a single iron arrow. It cut through the air and dug itself into a single bare patch on the Smaug's left breast, nearest his heart. The accuracy was impressive and — I have to admit it — his skill with a bow rivalled a shinobi's deadly, trained precision with kunai and shuriken.

Smaug barrelled through buildings and screeched as he disappeared into night sky covered in smoke. In an odd sort of grace, his body then descended and crashed into the water with a thundering "splash". The lake rocked and the waves crashed harshly onto the shore, rocking boats and tripping people.

A somber sadness lasted through the night. More and more people made it to shore and sat in silence, mourning their loved ones and their precarious futures. I didn't stay long. The guilt ate at me and even more so seeing the injured be lugged to safety. One look at a young girl with appalling burns across her arm had me running into the forest in search of herbs to make a salve, whether for numbing or healing.

When I returned in the morning, with a makeshift twig basket filled with medicinal herbs, the gathered townsfolk were in mayhem. A woman was crying. A man sat on the floor, his head in his hands. I looked for girl I had seen in the sea of movement but couldn't find her, the crowd coalescing into one and then separating into flickering moments of confusion, anger and fear. There were shouts of indignation. Men building fires and women handing out dry clothes. Wooden shelters protected shivering, pale children from the cold air.

A broken wooden doll lay in the grass. Exclamations of people reuniting with loved ones.

There was no order. No safety. No unity. This was a band of lost people. I set out to navigate the swarm in search of the girl. A scuffle started at one end of the camp and I shoved people out of my way as they went towards the shouts that gartered their attention like a moth to a flame.

Near the water, laying underneath a broken boat propped up by a plank of wood was the girl. She was sleeping peacefully but her face would scrunch up in pain every so often when the frigid wind swept over her.

I scoped for prying eyes but everyone had gathered to watch aptly the commotion. They cheered and booed, muttering to each other, but their eyes didn't stray. My hands moved through a flurry of hand signs and then slammed them to the ground. A small tree began to sprout and from the top of its branches a wooden bowl bloomed. With a handful of a mix of different herbs, I ground the leaves and flowers and soon there was a sickly paste of green in the bowl.

The girl flinched at my first touch but she stayed unconscious. All over her burn I spread the salve, and as time went on and the paste dried, her features relaxed. It was doing as intended. It was numbing the pain and protecting her from further ailments. Infection. Fever.

Uchiha-sama had thrown me a book on medicinal plants as a child after the other members had gotten tired of healing me from injuries they inflicted. Looking back now, the logic really didn't make sense. Why would they go as far as scorching my leg of? Why use lightning techniques that left bright red scars in a fern-like pattern crawling over limbs like the roots of a tree? Yes, I was skilled as a child but I was no S-Rank Shinobi like them. Dodging some attacks was just not possible, especially when they had every intention of seeing me in pain.

A powerful gust of cold air whipped around me and the young girl awoke. She opened her mouth but I cupped her cheek and hushed with a practiced gentle smile, "It's alright. Go back to sleep. You're safe." Her eyes fluttered closed and she dozed off as I soothingly ran a hand through her hair.

"What are you doing?" A voice snapped behind me. I glanced back at the dark-haired woman. She had a hat with metal circles stitched in and she carried a bundle clothes. I pushed myself to my feet, and dusted off my black pants. Her stiff posture nor her narrowed gaze changed as I pivoted to face her. "Sorry," I said, in my natural airy voice, "I meant no offence. I gathered herbs to make a salve after seeing your daughter's burn. It should ease the pain and it will protect her health."

With a bowed head, I murmured loud enough for her to hear, "I'll take my leave."

It wasn't hard to slip from slight and it wasn't hard either to find a place to rest away from the desolate people. I laid under a large tree and let my mind drift off, hoping sleep would keep away my troublesome emotions.

"Excuse me," a man called.

Was that for me? If it was, maybe he would go away if continued to sleep. My arm lay over my eyes, while the other rested on my stomach. I was warm enough for the coming-winter frigid air.

Every one of my limbs was covered in bandages to keep warm and to hide the scars that would only garner pity. Most people never noticed the odd choice as they were hidden under a dark red haori and a cream turtle neck top that were tucked into black hakama.
I had managed to remake many of my clothes from home with the help of my Weaver 'Master'. What I would have done if I had to wear a dress is something I try to keep far from mind. Even if I had no need to fight in these years other than when I train, engaging in combat in dress sounds like suicide — though with my immortality, it likely didn't matter.

"Hey! Oi! Wake up! We don't have all day for your loafing!" Now, that voice I recognise — dear old, Alfrid, Deputy of the Master of Laketown. He was a greasy, egomaniacal sycophant. If he had been born in her home, he would have been killed by shinobi a long time ago: he was pathetic and that is a perfectly valid reason for murder.

Propping myself on my elbows, I blinked at the git standing next to a man I recognised as Bard. Alfrid was about to spit something new but my eyes fixed on him lethally. "Shut up, you worm."

Bard silenced the git's retort with a raised hand but that did nothing to stop the scathing look she was shot. I rose a brow at the bowman.

He was an imposing man with large shoulders and the height to match it. His hair and beard were dark, and his eyes were even darker, but not in an evil way. There was kindness behind them, concern for his fellow townspeople.

"You're a healer," he asked but it came out as a statement, and I corrected, "No. I'm a weaver."

His brows furrowed. "I was told you made a salve for a girl with severe burns. Her mother says she is no longer in pain."

"Ah. I did do that," I hummed. Word certainly spread fast.

"If you can help the injured." Bard implored, "Please tend to them. We need as much help as we can." His lips were turned down grimly but his eyes bore into me in all seriousness.

Maybe I could help in this little way. I cannot save people by the hundreds for it would bring attention. I would become a legend. A figure to turn to in times of need but that wasn't who I was, not anymore. The little aid I could give and save those I was unable to originally, would need to suffice. Becoming a healer for eternity did not sound so bad. Sakura would be proud.

I rose gracefully to my feet and met Bard's gaze. With a nod, I relented, "I'll go gather more herbs." My quiet voice turned stern. "But I warn you, I am no healer." More like a killer. "Expect no miracles."

"What's your name?" His voice was gruff but there was a hint of relief in it.

"Fern."

Bard's eyes flickered to her hair, as everyone's did in this new world, and nodded. "Bard."

Humans didn't have silver hair here. I wonder if they would get a heart attack if they saw Sakura or Konan's hair? Honestly, people from back home would give them nightmares.

I had somehow become renown as a healer within two days by making salves and wrapping limbs. The tipping point might have been when I reset a mans dislocated knee. It had been an awful sight. The lower half of his leg was dangling in any which way and the fools were thinking about amputation. Honestly, I recall when it first occurred to me, I too thought I lost my limb. Terrible, really, but fortunately, dislocations are the best injuries to heal. One quick movement, one pop, one nasty scream was all that was needed other than rest.

Bard had become the de facto leader of the people of Laketown. Their protector. He killed the dragon and now he was leading them to gather supplies and setting them off to find shelter for the coming winter in ruins of the city of Dale.

For the civilians it was an arduous three day journey. There was little food and little supplies. The terrain was unforgiving and there was the weight to bear for the injured. These people had no prior experience nor training to withstand these extreme conditions. Every night, children sniffled and burrowed themselves into their mothers sides as the fires did little to keep them warm.

Throughout the hike, I often separated myself from the group to scour for medicinal plants. No such luck, though. The base of the mountain was barren of any life. It was stones and rocks and boulders. The trees I did pass by, were dead or scorched. The ruins of Dale were not any different.

In another time, stone towers stood imposingly around the city in defence as the the walls connected each and every one. There were houses at different levels and rotundas and causeways. Some had tiled roofs and balconies and others were slanted with windows. Mosaics and other beautiful designs were engrained into the walls and all buildings were painted different vibrant colours. The striking city sat on a hill between two arms of the mountain. Now, all its grandeur was gone. As the townsfolk trudged through the streets, they looked around in awe but all I saw was a grave.

Smaug's destruction on the city left it in a dreary, deserted state. Evidence of disorder could be seen everywhere. Snow covered the ground between the weather-worn stone walls. The tops of buildings were blackened and many were all but stones littering the ground. There were half-crumbled buildings, pitted staircases, caved-in roofs, and faceless cracked stone statues. Corridors in the buildings were dusty and filled with cobwebbed. Empty fire pits, long dead, were scattered around the streets and the tall walls casted baleful shadows. Dead leafless trees grew everywhere and some crawled up the walls.

"Make camp here tonight!" Bard hollered down from a causeway. "Find what shelter you can and get some fires going."

I stepped into a dark alley and once I turned the corner I jumped off the towering walls to get to the roofs. At the foot of the Lonely Mountain was a massive gate carved into it and two braziers were lit, casting large plumes of smoke into the sky. The dwarves survived.
And they are holed up inside.

I made my way as close as I could to the gates from within the city, leaping over streets and running atop of tiles before I came to a stop at the side of a tower. Running up the side, I took in the landscape of the setting sun.
There was a large open field between the subterranean dwarven city and the human settlement. It was a perfect battlefield. The perfect place for any army to challenge the small company of dwarves hidden within for treasure. Would the dwarves get reinforcements? Who else was greedy for the riches?

I would have to be patient to bear witness to the next round of mayhem. Two years of peace I had, and now, it is coming in waves that do not rest.

I stepped of the tower and everything was still. The blue skies above with clouds of all shapes were motionless. There was no whispers of the wind. Everything was motionless for one second as I floated in midair, then I was in free fall. The air whipped my hair as I descended faster and faster and at the last moment I flipped. My knees bent to cushion my fall and I quickly sprang to feet.

It did not take long to find where most of the townsfolk found shelter and were settling in for the night. The large building with a round tiled dome sat in the centre of the city and the walls were cracked and worn. As I made my way through the corridors, passing past the worn out people, I spotted an elderly woman huddled in the corner.

"Mabel, are you alright?" I crouched beside her. During Smaug's terror, her home had collapsed and had trapped her leg under a heavy beam of wood. She was saved by her neighbours who pulled her out and took her to safety. There was nothing I could do but set the break and wrap it.

Her eyes opened and a pained smile pulled her lips up. "My dear, you have done all you can," her wrinkly hand reached up to pat my cheek, "This old woman is just tired."

"I could have done more but your leg should be elevated," I said, looking around. "Let me fetch something to keep it propped and I'll bring you a blanket too. You look cold."

Mabel was a gaunt woman, all scrawny limbs and pale, wrinkled skin. She had greying hair and dark circles. Her body was evidence of the hard life she had endured but the thick smile lines and crows feet showed how much she appreciated the little things. Her chakra was vibrant. Lively, despite her age. It reminded me of Naruto and my chest tightened.

I inhaled deeply and ridded myself of feelings and meandered through the room, shifting through the many small piles of supplies. My hands rammed a small wooden log under my arm and I then grabbed a blanket.

Mabel had not moved from where I last saw her but her eyes had shut once more. Carefully, I lifted her splintered leg and propped it under the log before I laid the blanket over her. It was massive over her body and it suddenly occurred to me how similar I am to her.
My bones were as thin as hers, twig-like, but extensive training maintained a layer of muscle. Running a hand down my spine, you could feel each and every bone and my ribs protruded out. Like Mabel, I looked like a walking skeleton. No matter what I wore, it always looked like I was a walking ragged bag. My silver hair did little to diminish my sickly look and there were permanent bags under my dark eyes. The damage done to my body was irreversible, according to Tsunade, the greatest healer to have ever lived back home. Sakura and Ino always said I looked delicate, like a beautiful piece of cracked porcelain. They said my features were soft — that I was dainty — and that there was an odd grace to my movements.

I know what I looked like, though. I look like death. Like an old woman knocking on deaths door who slit throats gracefully and shoved people through the door to have them greet death first.

I pushed to my feet and kept my eye for my other "patients". Most of them were getting better. A man that lost his arm was making a steady recovery with no signs of oedemas or infections. The swelling and redness had dimmed on the burn of the girl I had first treated. All injuries were healing steadily but more and more people were getting sick. They sat back fatigued and persistently coughed, and I suspect dehydration and starvation. Their immune systems were weakening and the frigid air was detrimental.

I spotted Bard fretting over his family and signalled with a nudge of my head to follow me out. It took a minute for him to join me at the balcony but once he leaned on the railing, looking inquisitively at me, my quiet words blurted out. "I don't think it is a good idea to stay here."

"Why do you say that?" Bard turned his body to face me, a crinkle in his brow.

I quirked a brow and prompted, "Where do we go to seek help? Who do we ask for aid?"

"Thorin gave his word," he replied swiftly, "we are entitled to a share of the treasure and we will buy food and supplies with it. Start new."

"Alright, fine," I relented. Bard had to understand the danger the townsfolk are. I was unable to protect them but if I could prevent any unnecessary deaths by words of warning, the guilt would eat at me less. I cracked my neck before persisting.

"But that won't protect us from others. This city is the best camp grounds for an invading army with the intention of looting the treasures within the mountain. It's perfect to lay siege against the dwarves in there." My hand gestured towards the Lonely Mountain.

"It won't come to that."

"It will," I stressed and my soft voice got harsher. "There are only a few dwarves guarding the mountain, where the only entrance lays at the end an ideal battlefield. They have no army, no support. Whatever force comes here first, gets control, and we don't know if they will be friendly."

He was studying me closely, his brows furrowed and a small frown resting on his lips. "Who were you before you came to Laketown?"

"Does it matter? I'm telling you we are exposed."

"We will leave it till the morning," he dismissed. "People need to rest."

I had to hold back a groan. "Alright."

My eyes stayed on Bard as he went back to his children and I pressed my lips into a tight line. Well, I tried. Here's to hoping no more mayhem will rain down on these people.

I jumped over the railing and rolled unto the roofs below, immediately sprinting back to my tower. From the top, little lights were littered across the city, shining through the windows like small stars. My gaze swept up and the sight that greeted me was different than the one I grew up with.

My home had a different sky. Different constellations. Different stars. But this world's twinkling starlight — the soothing moonlight — was just as serene and beautiful.