"Here, Avarion. I tried to get a little bit of everything." Mireloth's voice seemed to shake Avarion out of whatever dream-state he was in. Her weariness was magnified tenfold in his face. "You had best get used to this feeling, Mireloth," said Avarion," because it will be a great many years before this misery ends, if it ever does."
Mireloth brooded over Avarion's statement. He rarely talked like that to anyone. Both heard a discreet cough at the tent opening. Mireloth was surprised to see that it was the warrior that she had barked at earlier. Avarion roused himself first to check on the injury. The warrior was lucky, at least to a healer's thinking. He only needed bandages and an herb salve that would help the flesh knit. As the warrior rose to leave, he turned to regard Mireloth. "Thank you, lady, for your words earlier. However, take care of whom you say them near. Not all would take them as well as I did," he said before leaving. Avarion regarded Mireloth with more than a hint of worry. When she explained fully what had happened, his worry only grew. When Mireloth was finished explaining, Avarion said, "He was right to warn you, if not about him, than about his brothers. That warrior was Maglor, second son of Feanor. Lucky for you, he is said to have the gentlest temper of the seven."
"I did not mean to bark at him so. You know how I get my nerves become strained," Mireloth replied with a sigh.
"But they do not. You should fear Feanor's third and fourth sons. Those two are unpredictable at best, and capable of murder at worst. Believe me, I know."
"We have more pressing concerns now than the idle anger of a Noldor prince. Like this."
Another warrior was carried in. He was no worse off than the rest, but far more nervous. Mireloth guessed this was his first battle. She asked him how he managed to get his shoulder gnawed to the bone, mainly to keep him still while Avarion worked on the rest of him. The warrior laughed and said he had "disarmed" an orc, which promptly began to chew on his shoulder. "And I thought I had seen it all," said Mireloth with a shake of her head. The soldier took her jest in good humor, and was able to hobble out of the tent when Avarion finished with him. Before either Elda had a chance to relax, another healer came in a panic, telling Avarion he was needed immediately. He left, trusting that Mireloth could handle herself. She noticed someone standing just inside the tent entrance. Why did he seem oddly familiar? He didn't seem hurt, and kept staring at Mireloth with a mixture of anger and curiosity. He certainly wasn't hard on the eyes, either, but why was he just standing there?
Celegorm waited patiently just inside the tent for the healers to finish. He did not feel right interrupting their work. He studied the girl who had spoken so rashly to Maglor. She was unkempt and dirty for a long day's work, but certainly not unattractive. Her youth must be the cause of her rashness, Celegorm decided. She would only need a gentle reminder of her place in the world. He waited until the other healer was called away before he acted. He noted, with pleasure, the spark of fear in the girl's eyes when his hand closed on her wrist. Good, he thought, let her be frightened. He managed to keep his tone even when he addressed the girl. "I do not take insults to myself, or to my brothers, lightly. You would do well to remember that in the future, young one."
"Forgive me, my lord. I did not mean to speak that way," she replied.
This "apology" was not enough for Celegorm. He tightened his grip one the girl's wrist to keep her from pulling away. Her gasp of pain was oddly satisfying to Celegorm. He wrenched the girl closer to him so he could whisper into her ear. "You will learn your place with me. Must I resort to stronger measures?" Celegorm kept his voice soft, almost intimate, but there was no mistaking his meaning. The fear in his captive's eyes grew into terror. Celegorm resisted the urge to laugh at her fear. What Celegorm failed to notice was the girl's free hand reaching for something. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, feeling like a horse had kicked him in the head. He looked around, dazed. Celegorm noticed broken pieces of pottery near him. "She hit me with a jar?" he thought. He was still reeling when the other healer returned. He surveyed the scene, and shouted at Celegorm, "Leave, now!" Celegorm raced out of the healing tent as quickly as his now-impaired balance would allow. His thoughts were as scattered at the pieces of the jar the girl hit him with. "She needed a lesson…such a pretty one…bested with a clay jar…" All these thoughts were whirling though Celegorm's head. He would remember this maiden, for greater reason than her impudence, now.
