Chapter Ten; The hands of a healer.
Atùvinel sat in a high tower in the palace. Her father and brother had been at war for five days now and she was restless. Messengers had come from the battlefield, bearing letters and news as well as those most grievously wounded. She had offered to help out in the houses of healing, down in the lower city, but so far she had not been called upon to aid them. There was little she could do during the days except ride Nafalon and wander around the palace and Minas Tirith. She was going crazy with anxiety and boredom.
A knock sounded at the door. She slipped off her seat at the window and walked towards it, calling as she did so.
"Come in!"
It was Sam.
"Atùvinel! They are calling for you in the houses of healing. You are needed there."
Immediately she swept out the door. If they had summoned her it meant that someone gravely wounded had arrived. As the Princess she was closest to the King in lineage and therefore she too had the hands of a healer and could do things other healers could not.
She ran down the stairs, hitching her skirt up as she did so, leaving Sam to follow behind.
When she arrived at the houses of healing Pelenth greeted her.
"My Lady, the Prince of Rohan is within."
"Elfwine?" She pushed past her old nurse and hurried into the room she knew he would be in. They had one room that was on the very east of the houses, where only those near death slept. The master healer was with him, talking softly to a steward bearing the crest of Rohan. As they caught sight of her both bowed, impatiently she greeted them,
"What happened?" She questioned the steward.
The healer interrupted, something few dared to do before her,
"There is no time Princess Atùvinel. Unless we hurry he will die."
"Of course." Frantically she bathed her hands, then bent over the Prince. His eyes were half closed, showing his pupils were wide and unfocussed. Gently she closed his eyes fully and swept his matted blond hair from his forehead. His tunic and shirt had already been removed and carefully she peeled the bandage he wore across his chest away. The wound was ugly, black in places with bits of cloth and dirt deep inside.
"Master, do we have any Athelas?"
"Indeed we do your highness." He beckoned to a younger man and gave directions to him. Atùvinel was absorbed in her work, carefully picking through the wound. He had been run through by and orc skewer by the looks of it. Delicately she removed pieces of metal and splinters, trying to avoid causing any more bleeding. With a curse muttered low so the older man could not hear her she held a pad tightly onto any parts that did begin seeping blood once more.
She smelled the athelas as it came into the room. Ever since her father had become King, the virtues of this plant were more widely known. There was always a supply of it in these houses, both fresh and dried, and in the herb garden more grew. The young man placed a bowl of hot water beside her on the flagstones and placed the wrapped leaves beside it.
She looked up to thank him and saw the worried look in his eyes.
"Stay awhile." She motioned to the Prince of Rohan's other side. "I will need to turn him over in a little while."
She picked up the first leaf from its wrappings and crushed it in her hands, staining her palms slightly, then ripped it into small pieces and cast them upon the surface of the water. Drawing her belt knife she stirred the mixture, then soaked a cloth in the fragranced water and began dabbing at the wound. The water staunched the bleeding somewhat and when Atùvinel was satisfied that the wound was clean, she bandaged it carefully then stood.
"We need to turn him over."
The young man who had brought the Athelas nodded at her command, and while she cradled his head, he was rolled over so he lay flat on his stomach.
She resumed cleaning the wound. This side was far smaller but had more splinters. She worked carefully making sure that she removed every particle she could.
When she finally sat back onto her heels, it was night and lanterns had been lit so she could still work. Her dress was splattered with blood and other bodily fluids and she was tired. But still she persevered, wrapping the wound tightly to stop any more bleeding, and on every other turn around his body she placed a leaf of Athelas above the wound. When she was finally done she stood, swaying slightly. The men who had watched her work steadied her. Gratefully she accepted the mug of water Pelenth handed her and drank deeply.
"You need to rest now Atùvinel," the older woman said.
The Princess nodded in acknowledgement. She was no use to anyone if she was exhausted, she would be more likely to harm those she was meant to be healing. Although she could work throughout the night, and had done so before, she would rather not, if there was no need, and there wasn't now.
"I don't want to go back up to the palace tonight, or," She glanced out at the sky, estimating the time by the position of the moon and stars in an eye blink, "this morning. I am too tired and I want to be here if Elfwine should need me."
"There will be a room made up for you then, my lady." The herb master had come back into the room. Atùvinel stood from her seated position on the floor,
"In that case, while that is being done, I will look around and see if I can do anything for the others who lie within these houses." The master bowed and left the room, followed by the other men and Pelenth. Atùvinel bent low over the Prince of Rohan, checking his breathing was deep and even, then kissed his forehead lightly, a red pendant falling from the front of her dress, to hang, swaying slightly from side to side, between the two.
Then, casting a regretful look back at him, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.