A commotion in the usually quiet healing ward made Jailil stop in his walk to Avaron's office and peer down a side passage toward the maternity ward. Two healers hurried a girl; a girl surely no older than he yet a girl with a round belly, blood on her dress, and tears streaming down her face into the closest chamber off the corridor. A woman in a faded dress stood with her hands outstretched until a healer led her away.
Jailil clutched his roll of parchment and stepped into the corridor but Avaron blocked his path, suddenly towering up all dressed in white. He put his hand on Jailil's shoulder and led him away, but not before Jailil heard the girl shrieking.
"What is happening?" Jailil asked.
"Some things your eyes are not ready to see," Avaron said firmly. "If you have finished filing the herb deliveries, the apothecaries need documenting."
Jailil frowned, but Avaron plucked the parchment from his grip and gave him a light push. He passed Avaron's office door and walked past closed windows on his way to the apothecaries, at the far west end of the healing ward. Fall colors were in the trees; gold and red and orange. A blanket of leaves covered the forest floor. He reflected that, once winter passed, spring would come and with it Thranduil, back from his tour.
"A year is a long time to miss you," Jailil mused.
Jailil's feet turned and led him into the dim servant's passages, running parallel and hidden in the thick walls. He brushed past maids, walking away from the apothecaries until he reached the birthing ward. He paused but heard only silence.
Jalil opened the closest door and stepped out into the light halls. The door he shut behind him melded into the wall. He found the girl's chamber and knocked.
"Enter!" Avaron's voice commanded.
Jailil cringed, knowing Avaron's black eyes would blaze the minute he stepped into the room, but he had knocked, so he opened the door and went in. It was a small room, with plenty of space around the solid bed and a solid table with two chairs against one wall.
The sheets on the bed were clean, the room was empty save Avaron standing with his arms crossed and a woman facing a corner of the room.
"Did—did she die?" Jailil asked.
"Indeed not," Avaron answered. "The baby is a girl."
Jailil looked again at the empty bed. "Where is the mother?"
"She left," Avaron said.
"But . . . if she came to the healing ward, she must have bled a lot . . ."
As Jailil spoke, a baby screamed and Jailil's eyes jerked to the midwife standing in the corner. She turned around, rocking a bundle in her arms.
"She—she left her baby?" Jailil stammered.
"She did not want it," Avaron answered.
The baby soothed as the woman swayed. She nodded to Avaron and walked past Jailil, out into the cold white hall.
"Where is she going?" Jailil asked.
Avaron put a hand on Jailil's arm and led Jailil out of the room. "She is taking the baby to the only place that homes unwanted children."
Jailil jerked out of Avaron's grip. "No! Orphanages are wicked places."
They reached Avaron's office. As Avaron pushed open the door, he said, "It is a blessing there are orphanages or unwanted children would have nowhere to go."
"Have you ever been to an orphanage?" Jailil demanded.
Avaron's office was wide, with open windows looking down onto a corner of the herb garden where lavender bloomed. Two oak bookshelves soared to the ceiling against one wall; in front of them was a low table and two chairs. Against the opposite wall was a long sofa and the center of the room housed Avaron's massive desk.
Avaron slid into his seat and looked at Jailil. "I have been to orphanages."
"Then how can you say it is a blessing to be sent to one?" Jailil clenched his hands. "The baby will grow up hurt and maltreated."
"What do you think happened to her mother?" Avaron said quietly. "And her mother before that?"
Jailil blinked at the angry tears in his eyes and turned away to hide them. Avaron sighed and stood up, his long sleeves sweeping the desk.
"Being a healer," Avaron said, coming up behind Jailil. "Is not easy. You will see many broken hearts. That girl was a servant, Jailil, indentured to serve her lord's family. No doubt she had no choice but to do her lord's bidding. I do not blame her for not wanting a child conceived through hate."
Jailil spun around. "That is not right! Anyone who harmed her like that should have to pay."
Avaron smiled coldly. "Servants do not have the same privileges as we, Jailil. I have seen hundreds of cases identical to what happened today come through these halls. It is life."
"Life should be better than a girl forced to abandon her baby!"
"Let me put it to you this way," Avaron said. "If I beat you, I may answer for it in some small way. If a servant beats his son to death, no one cares."
"People should care," Jailil said softly.
"It is easier to see visions of an ideal future than it is to make change," Avaron said, not unkindly. "Now go; I will not scold you for your earlier disobedience, but now the apothecaries are really waiting for you."
. . . how great the need for change . . .
Thank you so much for reading! Reviews/feedback welcome.
Next Chapter: Enter Thranduil.