Thankyou to those lovely reviewers, S-Star, Rosie and Laiqalasse! (Too damn right, L, she ain't a Mary-Sue. For a start, I can't use a sword to save my life...)
Chapter Three
Sleeping on Horseback is Not the Same as Sleeping in a Bed
It was not quite sunset when they rode into the city of the Elves. As the Prince guided his horse through the streets, word spread of his return, and by the time they reached the House of Healing quite a crowd had gathered to see the Prince and his strange, sleeping passenger. He ignored them all, dismounting and gently lifting the girl down from the horse. She stirred and woke, confusion in her eyes as she took in her surroundings.
"We have reached my home," he told her as he carried her up the steps and into the House of Healing. "You are safe here. The Healers will see to your wounds." As he spoke he looked up to see one of the senior Healers hurrying towards him.
"Your Highness? How may I help you?"
"This girl has been attacked by orcs. She fought bravely, but the creatures have wounded her. I have treated her wounds to the best of my ability, but she has a deep gash in her thigh which will not close; it is beyond my skill to help her, so I have brought her to you."
"I see. Well, if you will follow me, your Highness, I will find a room for your - companion." The Healer crossed the entrance hall and went up the main staircase. The Prince followed her, his heart sinking a little at her reaction when she had noticed that the girl he held in his arms was human. The hesitation when the Healer said 'companion' had only been slight but it had been there. He could not understand why he felt disappointed; he had known all along the reaction they would receive from his people. Why had he hoped it would be any different?
The Healer led him along a corridor to an open door, and stood back to let him carry the girl inside. The room was small and sparsely furnished; there were only a bed, a chair and a small washstand with a ewer and basin. He laid the girl down on the bed, settling her against the pillows before he stood back to let the Healer take a look at her. Now that she was safe and in such pristine surroundings, the bloodstains and battle dirt thrown into sharp relief by the white sheets and walls, she seemed a very forlorn creature; he felt his heart contract with pity for her. She was too young for this.
"Is the thigh wound the only injury?" the Healer asked him in Elvish, but before he could reply the girl on the bed gave a short, scornful laugh.
"I may be injured, and I may not speak Elvish, but I'm not simple. I can answer your questions, if you can ask them in the common tongue."
The Healer smiled and switched to common. "I am sorry. I did not think. I was asking the Prince if the wound to your thigh is your only injury."
The girl shook her head. "The thigh wound is the worst, but there's a slash across my ribs and probably a few other cuts and bruises that I haven't noticed yet. And my muscles ache, but that's probably from riding a horse side-on all day." She shot a sidelong glance at the Prince, who had to smother a laugh at her attempt to cover up her discomfiture at the weakness she thought she had shown.
"My apologies. I saw no other way of getting you to safety. Besides," he smiled innocently, "you were no burden. You slept almost all the way."
Her scowl told him that he would pay later for that piece of teasing; she had no chance to exact her revenge now, for the Healer had knelt at the bedside and was unlacing the girl's breeches to take a look at the thigh wound. Producing a small knife, the Healer slit the bandage and peeled it away, frowning at the sight of the wound. Fresh blood was still welling up in a slow, persistent ooze, and the edges of the wound now looked swollen and inflamed.
"Well," she said, "the best thing to do, I think, would be to clean the wound thoroughly. The herbs His Highness used to treat it have done their job and should now be removed; then I will apply some more herbs and a healing salve to it, and stitch it closed. I know," she added, seeing the warrior girl's poorly concealed expression of horror, "it sounds drastic, but it is the only way I can see to make sure the wound stays closed. Then I shall treat your other wounds, and after that I am sure you would be glad of a bath?"
The girl nodded slowly. A bath? She could not remember the last time she had had a bath. The closest she got on the road was the occasional quick dip in a river or lake, if the opportunity presented itself.
"Very well then. I shall fetch the supplies I need, and ask the apprentices to begin drawing a bath for you." The Healer stood up and left the room, her skirts swishing purposefully around her as she walked.
The girl gave a quiet laugh, utterly devoid of humour. "She doesn't like me," she observed.
"I do not think that is the case," said the Prince, sensing that she needed reassurance. "I think she was a little taken aback to find me bringing a human to her for healing; it is not often we are visited by your people. And I think you may have surprised her with the way you spoke to me. Did you not notice how pointedly she referred to me as 'His Highness' after you made that comment about the journey?"
"I noticed it all right. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I forgot for a moment who you are."
"Don't be sorry. Most of the people here are so unbearably formal with me, it is a breath of fresh air to speak with someone who is not minding their every word. Besides, I thought we had decided to be friends?" He raised one eyebrow and was gratified to see her smile. "Good. Now, you must not let the brisk manner of our Healers put you off; they have kind hearts and will take care of you the best they can."
"I suppose so." She did not sound convinced, but the Healer returned at that moment bearing a tray of jars and bottles, so the Prince did not have the chance to reassure her more.
"Now then, let's get that wound of yours clean," said the Elven lady. "I'm sorry, my lord. I must ask you to leave." She cut off the Prince's protest with a wave of her hand. "If Your Highness does not mind, all Healers work better without an audience to disturb the patient. I am sure your father would like to hear that you have returned?"
The Prince knew better than to argue any further. "When you put it like that, how can I refuse?" he smiled. Turning back to his new friend, he caught a look of mute appeal in her eyes, hastily veiled. Of course; she was afraid of being left alone in this unfamiliar place, with someone she was sure did not like her tending to her wounds. He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. You're in safe hands; far safer than mine. I promise I'll come back and see you later, when I have spoken with my father. Will that do?"
"I'll be all right," she said, a brittle tone of bravery in her voice. "Go on. You've got things to do. Horses to see to, for a start. Don't let Oakapple play you up."
"I won't. Silme will keep him in line. I'll see you later." He smiled at her from the doorway, feeling a sudden desire to go to her, to ruffle her hair or something. She looked so apprehensive...but the Healer was there, waiting for him to leave so that she could begin to treat the girl's wounds. Besides, the little spitfire would not thank him for treating her like an invalid. He lifted a hand in farewell and turned away, heading down the corridor to the stairs.
The warrior felt a pang of regret as he left, the one person she could call friend in this strange place. Now she was utterly alone; well, she could handle that, she was used to it. She settled herself back against the pillows as the Healer set out the things she would need on the washstand.
"Don't worry," said the Healer. "I shall explain to you each step of the process, so you shall know exactly what I am doing. First, I must numb the area around the wound; it will feel cold as it goes on but soon you won't feel a thing." She took a pot from the washstand and removed the lid, scooping out a handful of white cream. She rubbed it into the area around the wound and the girl felt her whole thigh gradually becoming numb. She grimaced at the strange feeling, but at least the sword slash no longer hurt.
The Elven lady picked up the ewer of water from the washstand and poured some out into the basin, washing the ointment off her hands. She then took up a small pad of cloth and dampened it with some cloudy liquid from a bottle. "This is to clean away the dried blood and clear the wound so that I can remove the herbs the Prince put there for you." As she spoke, she was dabbing at the blood around the wound and the girl watched as it seemed to melt away and disappear. The wound began to look cleaner, but no less alarming. The two edges of skin seemed to peel apart and gape again, showing the tangled mess of leaves inside. The Healer picked up a pair of tweezers and a small ceramic bowl. "This may well hurt even through the numbing ointment; I would advise you to brace yourself, and to look away. It will not be a pretty sight."
"I'm all right. I've seen worse."
"But not in your own flesh, I'm sure. Still, if you want to watch I won't stop you." The Healer began to pick out the bloodstained leaves and place them in the bowl. "I know it does not look as though these have done you much good, but believe me, they have in all probability saved your life. Without the Prince's treatment, you would have bled to death before infection even had a chance to set in; even if you had survived that long, the infections would have killed you. You were lucky that he found you."
The girl nodded but did not answer, being too busy gritting her teeth against the pain making its way through the numbness in her leg. She concentrated on watching the tweezers pluck away at the wound, feeling a rather morbid fascination. It seemed to take hours for the Healer to remove all the herbs to her satisfaction, but at last she stopped and reached for another pad of cloth and the bottle of cloudy liquid. This time she poured the liquid over the wound and mopped it away with the cloth.
"There. All clean. Now I shall put some of this healing salve into the wound; it is a concentrate made from the herbs the Prince used, among other things. Then I shall stitch the wound closed and give you some more of the numbing ointment to ease the pain until your skin settles down a little." She worked as she spoke, and the girl felt an obscure sensation of pride that she did not look away once, not even when the Healer sewed the two edges of the wound together with tiny, fine stitches, the needle sliding with almost painless ease through her skin.
"You will have a scar, I am afraid, but it will be a relatively neat one. You were lucky it was I that met you when the Prince brought you in; not all of the Healers can stitch as neatly as I." She smiled kindly, and the warrior smiled back. Perhaps her initial judgement of this she-Elf had been a little hasty.
As the Healer finished applying the numbing ointment, another she-Elf put her head around the door. "The bath you requested is ready, Lady," she said.
"Thank you, my dear," the Healer replied, washing her hands again. "Now, young lady, I must just see to that cut you say you have on your ribs, and then you may go and have your bath. Will you take off your shirt for me, please?"
The girl hesitated momentarily, but reminded herself that it was no use feeling embarrassed. If she wanted to have her wounds seen to, she would have to take her clothes off. And at least the Healer was female. She peeled off her shirt and fixed her gaze on the wall as the Healer slit the bandage around her ribs and inspected the injury beneath it.
"This one is not so bad. All it needs is a clean and some of the healing salve rubbing into it." Suiting the action to the words, the Healer quickly cleaned and treated the wound. When she had finished she stood up and tidied everything she had used back onto the tray. She handed the girl a long white robe. "Put this on instead of your clothes; you will find it easier to move about in. I shall return in a moment and take you to your bath." With that, she gathered up her tray and left the room, shutting the door behind her. The girl stiffly manoeuvred herself off the bed and removed her remaining clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the chair. She wrapped the robe around herself and sat back down on the bed, waiting for the Healer to return.
She did not have to wait long; soon the Elf returned, knocking on the door before she entered.
"Ah! You are ready. Good. Please follow me." She ushered the girl out of the room and set off down the corridor, adjusting her pace to that of her patient, who was finding it difficult to limp at much more than a snail's pace. Luckily the bathroom was only a few doors down; secretly the warrior was not sure if she could have made it much further. The Healer ushered her into the room and she was greeted by the most welcome sight she thought she had ever seen. A large bath stood on clawed feet in the middle of the room; it was filled with gently steaming water which, on closer inspection, proved to be swirling with clouds of different colours and giving off the most delicious aroma. The girl inhaled deeply and felt soothed at once. The Healer smiled. "The water has been mixed with certain herbal and mineral concoctions which will help to relax your muscles and heal your cuts and bruises. I recommend a long soak; it is very effective. Would you like me to stay and wash your hair for you?"
The warrior hesitated, considering the offer. A part of her wanted to snap that she was perfectly capable of washing her own hair and would rather be left on her own; but the rest of her remembered the Prince's words of the day before. "Enjoy being waited on," he had told her, and she had to admit that she was rather enjoying the novelty of not having to depend on herself for everything.
"It's very relaxing," the Healer smiled. "You look as though you could do with a little bit of looking after."
"I suppose I could," the warrior smiled back. "Please, I would like it if you would wash my hair. I only hesitated because I'm not used to anyone doing anything for me."
"It will be a pleasure," said the Healer, turning away to select some bottles from a shelf on the wall. The warrior slipped off the robe and climbed rather awkwardly into the bath; once she had managed to get her injured leg as well as her good one over the edge, she lowered herself into the water with a gasp as the warmth enveloped her.
"This is marvellous!" she exclaimed, leaning back and submerging herself up to the neck.
"I should think you are feeling better already," smiled the Elf. "Now, if you will sit up to allow me to wash your hair, you can lean back and rest all you want while your hair dries." The girl obeyed, sitting forward and unbraiding her hair, then tilting her head back so that the Elf could wet her hair. Soon the Healer was rubbing a soft, sweet-smelling soap into her scalp and through her hair, and the gentle massaging was threatening to send her to sleep. When her hair was rinsed clean, the Elf took a towel and squeezed out the worst of the water, then bade her lie back again as she arranged the hair to hang down over the edge of the bath to dry.
"There," she said, "now you may rest a while. Don't fall asleep! I shall come back in a little while with some dinner for you, and then you shall go to bed. Sleeping on horseback is not the same as sleeping in a bed, and you need a decent night's sleep."
The warrior did not have the energy to argue. She simply smiled at her nurse and thanked her quietly, leaning back and closing her eyes. When she opened them, she was alone in the room. She looked about her, for the first time noticing that this room was not as bare and functional as the room in which she had been treated. There was a thick carpet on the floor in a rich shade of burgundy, and the shelves, cupboards and washstand which lined the walls were made of some shining dark wood. A mirror hung on the wall, its frame of the same wood as the furniture, carved into a beautiful flowing design which, if she looked hard enough, she could also see decorating the cupboard doors and the legs of the washstand. The walls were painted a warm creamy colour and across from the door to the corridor another pair of doors stood slightly open behind a gauzy curtain of a similar creamy shade which billowed gently in the breeze. She thought she could make out a balcony through the doors, which appeared to be mostly glass; the last rays of sunset were spilling in and lending the room a warm, comforting glow. Suddenly she found she could hardly keep her eyes open, so she closed them and inhaled again the sweet scent of the bath water. The numbing ointment on her wound was beginning to wear off, but somehow the pain felt more remote, as if the treatment it had received were already beginning to work. She thought of the Healer's words, that the Prince had saved her life by binding her wound with those herbs as soon as he did. It seemed that she owed him her life twice over; somehow that thought did not bother her as much as it had the day before. He had been unfailingly kind to her, was even calling her friend, and somehow it felt right. The thought occurred to her that the distressing, confusing feelings she had towards him no longer seemed such a disaster. She laughed to herself. Whatever was in this bath was obviously softening her mind as well as relaxing her body. Falling in love with an Elven Prince was definitely still a disaster, but she felt confident that she could cut those feelings off and forget about them. She had made a new friend, that was all.
She was almost asleep by the time the Healer came back for her, bearing towels and a long white shift laced with ribbons up the sides. "Are you ready to get out of your bath yet?" she asked.
"I think I'd better be. I'm falling asleep."
"Very well. Here is a towel." She held up a large white towel and the girl climbed out of the bath, rather less awkwardly than when getting in, and wrapped herself in it. When she had dried herself off, the Healer shook out the shift and handed it to her. "I have brought you something to wear in bed; the ribbons are so that we can check your wounds more easily."
The girl slipped the shift over her head and put her robe back on over the top. She was about to twist her hair out of the way when the Healer laid a hand on her arm.
"Would you like me to comb and braid that for you?"
"If you wouldn't mind, I would like it very much." She was beginning to recover her manners now that she was clean and rested. She stood patiently while the Elf fetched a comb from the cupboard and gently combed out her hair, braiding it into a thick plait down her back.
"There. Much better. Now, come with me; there is some food waiting for you in your room."
Back in her room, the warrior discovered a tray with three or four small dishes on it. She got into the bed and settled herself in a sitting position with the tray on her lap before beginning to investigate her dinner. The Healer stood by the door, smiling warmly.
"Leave the tray outside your door when you are finished, and someone will take it away. Then put out the lamp and go to sleep."
"All right. Thank you. For everything, I mean. You've been very kind."
"I am a Healer. It's my job," the Elf smiled. "Sleep well." She shut the door behind her.
Dinner turned out to be some chicken in a creamy sauce, a couple of bread rolls, and a dish of fruit; all simple fare for invalids, but after weeks of eating whatever she could catch, it seemed like a feast. She ate it all, washing it down with a glass of water from the carafe which had appeared, along with a small oil lamp, on the washstand, then she put the tray outside the door and got back into bed. As she lay down she remembered that the Prince had said that he would come back and see her when he had finished talking to his father; she must stay awake until he came. She fought to keep her eyes open, but sleep overtook her almost immediately.
Some time later, the door to her room opened and closed quietly and a figure slipped into the room. Coming to stand by her bed, the Prince gazed down at her sleeping form, lit softly by the lamp that she had forgotten to blow out. She was sound asleep, a peaceful expression smoothing her features. No longer did the aura of long years of hardship and struggle make her seem old beyond her years. "So young, yet so brave," he thought, noting the lines of pain still etched upon her face and the deep shadows beneath her eyes. She had kicked the covers out of their pristine order, and one foot poked out from under them. He smiled affectionately and gently straightened the covers, tucking her foot safely away beneath them. He did not think she would have nightmares tonight. Reaching down, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, then he blew out the lamp and left her to sleep in peace.
