This chapter is detailed, basically second by second description of medical treatment. Medieval ED :D It is very whumpy and angsty. Consider yourselves warned :D

Midnight was close when Roach made it to the closed gate of Melitele Temple. Geralt clumsily slid down from her back. When his feet touched the ground, his knees buckled under him, and he fell flat on his side. He expected nothing else, so he managed not to hurt himself any further. The effect of the potion he drank wore off a long time ago and he had to fight through the regular nausea it had caused for the past twenty minutes.

Just a few miles from the temple, he was forced to stop and throw up as it was too much to deal with for his body. The feat stole all his strength and he struggled to get back up to the horse. The mare was golden though and led him to a boulder so he could climb up.

As the witcher laid on his side in front of the gate, breathing heavily, the horse whined. Loudly, as if to call out for somebody and nervously shuffled around to make noise with her horseshoes.

"Roach," Geralt whispered, calming her, because he could hear footsteps of two people and a voice shimmering behind the gate.

Soon, a small spy hole opened in the middle of the door and a pair of green eyes appeared in it.

"It is him. I see the witcher's horse," said the voice. Then the gate was unlatched and both wings of the door opened. Two girls, students, one unusually tall, one smaller, came out and rushed to the lying man.

Geralt forced his eyes to open.

"Oh, fuck. Fetch Mother Nenneke," the tall one said and dropped on her knees next to him. "Quickly." When the smaller one ran away, she removed one strand of his hair from his face, as careful as if she was scared to hurt him. "Do you hear me?"

Geralt nodded. "Sorry for… the disturbance. I am…"

"I know who you are. Nenneke told us to wait for you. She said you might be injured, but-" the girl paused and gently placed her hand over his side to stop his attempt to stand up. "Don't."

He stayed down and watched as she ran her eyes over him. He couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Nenneke was right, he let himself get wrecked by a regular merchant. She would be furious.

"You are in big trouble, Geralt of Rivia," the student said with concern as if she knew what he was thinking. She continued assessing his condition, then met his eyes. She seemed not to understand he was still alive. "Do you really think you can get up and walk?"

His whole body ached, not only his wounds, but every muscle and bone, he felt dizzy even lying down and he felt weak. He would have to find out.

Instead of answering, the witcher took in a breath and started moving. He bent his legs, propped himself up with his hand and had to stifle a grunt as pain flashed through his stomach the second, he flexed the muscles. He clutched at the arrow to keep it stable and lift himself to his knees. The girl caught his arm and helped him on his feet.

As he swayed with the first step on his injured leg, the girl cradled her way under his left arm - the one that wasn't speared with arrows and forced him to lean on her. She was almost as tall as him and thin as a stick, but she was strong.

They slogged through the gate into the courtyard, Roach following them as a tail.

"Rest here," the girl said and propped him against a wall and let him go. She waited a moment to see if he could stay up on his own and then went to close the gate.

As the girl left, Geralt noticed Nenneke marching towards him, the second student behind her. Despite the late hour, Nenneke was dressed as if it was midday and appeared fully awake. And, of course, infuriated.

"Were you… expecting someone?" Geralt quipped when she stopped in front of him, motioning at her figure.

"Don't you think your satire will make me soft, you blasted fool!" the priestess said angrily and took his face in her hands. He glanced at her but then his eyes dropped down, unable to watch the disappointment on her face. She forced him to stand straight so she could see the full damage.

"Oh no, Geralt! I can't believe you've gotten yourself bloody impaled!"

"I'm sorry," Geralt said sheepishly, leaning against the wall again and wincing not only for the pain but his stupidity too. He knew her scolding was well deserved.

"Your apologies won't save you now," she said sharply.

Geralt let out a sigh, closed his eyes and kept silent. He expected she would chide him some more, but she didn't. She mandated her students, the smaller to take care of Roach and the taller to finish up quickly with the huge locking system so she could help Geralt to his room.

"Shouldn't we take him to the infirmary?" asked the girl supporting Geralt as they took the opposite route.

"No, I have patients there, who need rest, and this might get... noisy," Nenneke said, shooting a glare at Geralt. "I have a room ready for him."

They entered the room dimly lit by a dying fireplace with Geralt severely panting. He wistfully glanced at the bed, but realizing the arrows had to be taken out and his wounds cleaned, he couldn't lie down yet. He and the girl supporting him stopped at the door and waited for Nenneke to say where she wanted him.

"Sit him here." Nenneke said, patting a stool she dragged next to a big table. The stool was just the right height to not pressure at the arrow in his stomach and just right for Nenneke to have good access to him.

Geralt nodded at the student as she helped him to sit down and let him sit alone. Neither of them was sure whether he could hold on that stool, but the table next to it served as a good enough grounding. The girl stepped away and looked down at herself with a slight shock. Her face got a shade paler as she touched her soft, flesh colored dress that was now stained with crimson.

"Never seen a bit of blood, or what, Rhimi?" Nenneke scolded the girl too. "Make a use of yourself, go flare up the fireplace and light up the sconces, I need some light." The girl headed off to the fireplace immediately and before she could get there, Nenneke already barked more instructions, boil water, close the door, do not stare, work quicker.

The priestess carefully stepped in front of Geralt, avoiding the arrow shafts, and raised up his chin. "Look at me," she said.

Geralt obeyed and looked.

"You are as pale as death. Did you take any of your poisons?"

"Yes," Geralt admitted. "Hours ago. I had to."

"Hmm," Nenneke muttered. "You realize that the damaging effects have a longer duration than the beneficial ones. And it's not clever to start healing with those bloody arrows still in!"

Geralt didn't say anything. He had learned a long time ago that she was not a fan of witcher's potions. Even knowing they needed them. And this time he did need them to get into the temple.

She checked over the reopened and irritated gashes on his forehead, then looked for blood in his ears and wounds that could be possibly hidden behind his locks of thick hair.

"At least you kept your head safe," she remarked, finding no injury on his head. She moved on with her examination and slipped her hand under his shirt. Carefully she touched around the area where the arrowheads might appear if they went through.

"None of them is through," Geralt whispered.

"None?"

"There is another one in my leg."

Nenneke knew his leg was injured but as no shaft was sticking out, she didn't realize he was shot there too. She inspected the thigh through the hole in his pants and frowned.

"Holy Melitele! Geralt, this is severe," she lamented, probing, and squeezing the thigh here and there to see whether the arrow hit his bone. "It seems the bone is intact, but still. I'll do this one last. This is going to be a long night, Geralt."

Geralt released a shaky breath and sagged down as he realized what was ahead of him.

"Straighten up," Nenneke said even as she pressed over his chest, sides, and arms. "Anything else?"

"No." Geralt shook his head and slouched his shoulders down again when she walked away. He watched her gather a leather wrapper with various sets of tools. She laid it on the table and picked up scissors from the holder.

"Rhimi, help me undress him."

Having all the previous orders done, the girl was lighting up candles and placing them on the table to prepare some more light at hand. Stopping in the middle, she quickly moved to his side.

Geralt sat tight as Nenneke cut through his armor and shirt around the shafts. With caution, Rhimi removed the pieces of the leather and linen that stuck on his skin, slowly uncovering his back and chest. Some stitches that Nenneke put in that morning were ripped out, but the wound was mostly closed and had bled only little. The bruise over his ribs faded a bit. Still, it was tender on touch and there were some new bruises over his torso from blunt edges of swords and other hits that Renaud or his men inflicted. Like a boot print over his midsection.

"You let them beat you like a dog,"

"I didn't let them."

"But you did, Geralt. This is exactly what I'd warned you about. You let this happen."

"Nenneke-" Geralt wanted to defend himself but was cut off as the priestess grasped the shaft in his back and started moving with it. He drew in a sharp breath and flinched away. The flesh inside were already torn and over-sensitive after Renaud's manipulation and he couldn't bear it.

"Keep still!" she raised her voice. "You were lucky. An inch off and Roach would be bringing us your corpse." Nenneke ignored his hisses and held him in place. "It looks like the arrowheads are barbed; did you see any of them?"

"Yeah. They are," Geralt rasped.

"Then you should brace yourself, I will have to push the arrows through." Nenneke released the shaft and watched Geralt relax a bit. "It's going to hurt a lot more than this gentle touching."

"I know," Geralt whispered, eyes closed.

Nenneke pushed his hand away and ignoring his hisses, shortly wiggled with the other arrow to make sure it had the same resistance. Finding it was tightly lodged in and it hardly moved, she sighed. She didn't know if she felt angry or lost.

"This one can kill you. Or the infection that might follow."

"Witchers don't die of infection," Geralt objected. He was starting to feel a little offended with the constant flood of rebuke.

"Yes, only those that stay focused and don't let arrows riddle their stomach."

Geralt clenched his teeth but kept silent.

The door to the room snapped open and the second girl entered, bringing a pile of things with her. She brought Geralt's saddlebags, plenty of clean cloth, gauzes, and vials with medicine in a huge basket. Before the girl could catch her breath, Nenneke sent her into the infirmary for some more tools, herb essences and water. Rhimi offered to help her friend, but she was cut short by Nenneke who basically forbade her to leave the room.

Geralt watched as the priestess turned to the table, from the leather wrap she took two small blades, scary looking kind of tweezers and other tools he didn't have a slightest idea how to call and passed them to Rhimi.

"Put these into the boiling water, then wash your hands with soup and bring them back."

"Yes, mother Nenneke," the girl said, her lips tightened into a thin line as she looked at the tools.

Geralt had never been shot before. He had seen men or animals getting shot and dying from it and he had even seen some men survive. The animals never survived, because nobody tried to save them, and the men survived, because the arrowheads had no barbs. He didn't exactly know what to expect and Nenneke's menacing stance wasn't very helpful. His stomach was in knots, and he felt his heart beating faster, forcing him to breathe faster as well.

"Geralt," Nenneke said when she laid the gauzes and cloth on the table and turned to him. She frowned. He paled even further and was short of breath.

"Hmm."

"You should have thought about this earlier. Now I need you to calm down." Nenneke spoke softly for once, even stroking his cheek. The small gesture of care did wonders, and Geralt relaxed a bit into her touch.

"I know, I know. Just do what needs to be done," he said with eyes closed.

Nenneke took a vial and handed it to him. "Drink this, it will help with the pain."

"Thank you," he took it in his shaky hand and drank it in one swig with a grimace.

The taste made him feel sick, but he knew the contents of the vial were precious, so he swallowed it down. His throat and stomach burned after the strange liquid with a green shade, but he could feel it working.

"It will still hurt, Geralt." The priestess stated the obvious.

When Rhimi returned with the tools from the fireplace, his nerves started torturing him anew. Looking down at the floor, he mentally prepared for what was to come.

The priestess brushed his white hair away from his shoulder and placed her fingers under and above his clavicle to feel if the arrowhead was anywhere close. Grasping the thick wooden shaft, she gently pressed on it. The air was expelled from his lungs with a grunt, and he pinned his arm to his side immediately.

"Don't flex your muscles, and stay still," Nenneke commanded and pressed a little more, shifting the whole arrow a bit further.

Geralt tried to ease the tension in his muscles but when he felt the sharp iron tip move and pierce him inside, he couldn't help it and tensed again. He expected Nenneke to push it through with one swift move, and it would be over within a second, but she moved excruciatingly slowly. As she kept pushing, he had lost control over his muscles and it contracted by itself. His whole arm started to vibrate with pain and his body unwittingly bent down to escape it. Nenneke let go of the shaft and sighed, very much annoyed.

"I can't," Geralt blurted out, realizing his mistake, but lacking the means to defy his own body.

"Of course, you can. You can do whatever your heart pleases. So now be a good boy and do what I say for once."

Geralt swallowed a protest and reluctantly moved his back closer to her.

"Rhimi, don't just stand there like a bump in a log and hold him in place," Nenneke ordered, her voice stern. Rhimi widened her eyes but set in motion in a flash. She approached Geralt from the front. Without looking at him she put one leg between his and pulled him close to prop him up against herself. She took the strands of hair that fell back over his shoulder and kept them out of the way behind his neck. Geralt was basically in her embrace and locked between the two women.

Nodding at Rhimi, Nenneke proceeded to drive the arrow forward. Rhimi held him tight and while Nenneke tried to be gentle the iron head plunged through his muscles adamantly. He clutched at the table next to him, burying his head into the girl's chest. He couldn't suppress a grunt as the pain became sharper for a moment, but it eased after that. Geralt exhaled.

Nenneke could feel the tip below the skin and stopped pushing. Releasing the arrow, she reached for a piece of cloth.

"Hold the cloth here," the priestess said to Rhimi and put the cloth an inch below his clavicle. "Catch the blood with it."

Rhimi released the strands of hair she was holding and followed the instructions. Geralt only took a glimpse of what was happening and where, then turned his head away again. Nenneke grasped the blade from the table and aimed it at the point where she last saw the tip prodding the skin. Without a warning, she pressed the arrow once more to see the exact spot and then began to cut. Blood poured down and colored the cloth as Geralt's flesh split open.

Geralt crushedthe edge of the table in his palms but held still and stayed almost relaxed as long as he felt the blade touch his skin. He could tolerate the cutting. When Nenneke started pushing the arrowhead through the incision, the pain was again reaching his limits.

The barbs were broad and pointy, even sharper than the tip.

"These heads are meant to kill," Nenneke pointed out and unscrewed the head from the shaft with ease. She held it out for a moment, Rhimi's lips squeezed shut. Geralt didn't even look. He was breathing loud and ragged with his eyes closed and only wanted it to be over.

The priestess didn't let him wait long, she slowly pulled back at the end of the arrow till it was fully out of his body. Blood spilled from the hole in his back and Nenneke quickly sealed it with cloth. She pushed some of the cloth in and pressed against it, hard and firm. Geralt groaned with the sudden spike of pain that seeded black dots in his vision.

Rhimi also covered the incision to stop the blood coming from it, mirroring Nenneke's force until the priestess grasped the cloth on Rhimi's side by herself and squeezed both wounds hard against each other.

Geralt hissed and his shoulders twitched uncontrollably to move away.

"Don't whine. We have two more to go," Nenneke shushed him.

"I am not- ...whining," Geralt protested through his shallow breaths.

"Good," the priestess approved and added a bit more pressure, watching Geralt fuming. "Switch with me, Rhimi," Nenneke said after a while and waited for the girl to walk around and take over her place. "Keep pressure until the bleeding stops. More," Nenneke bore down on the girl's hand until Geralt tensed. "There."

The priestess verified if Rhimi maintained the force she showed her and with an approving nod moved to Geralt's side.

"Try to raise your arm up," she said and held out her hands, quite high. Geralt tried to raise the arm slowly up, twisting his face, and falling to comply in mid-way. She took the arm by herself and tested various movements.

Geralt kept wincing. "Am I damned not to use my sword?"

"For some time, without question. Yes."

"How long?" Geralt looked at her with a miserable expression.

"What does it matter?"

Geralt heaved a sigh and lowered his head. "Nenneke," he started. "I was wrong."

"Yes, you were."

"No, you don't understand. I underestimated Renaud, but I know that now. And he wants his daughter back. People have eyes and it won't take long before he figures out places where I could take her-"

"You must be joking!" Nenneke snapped.

"No! I have learned. I know what I am dealing with now. I have to heal and go as soon as possible to-"

"Stop it! Now! You have learned shit!" She grasped his chin and forced him to look at her. "You are the stupidest idiot I have ever seen if you think you can get out of this with a snap of a finger!" She let go of the chin with a little shove and snapped her fingers to make a point. "Just look at yourself!"

Geralt shook his head and closed his eyes. He really didn't want to anger her. Not now, not when he still needed her help and her care and her comfort. He was so foolish and could only regret starting the conversation. He meant it well, but it came out so wrong.

"Did you forget about this?" The priestess continued, took the arrow stuck in his stomach and moved it, just a tiny bit. Geralt's eyes shot open and he drew in a sharp breath. He did not expect that reaction and looked at her with hurt in his eyes. "Or your leg? It will be weeks before you are even ready to ride a horse!"

"Nenneke, please," he said, breathing heavily. He had never seen her so furious.

"Don't." Her voice was as sharp as a razor. "I don't want to hear anything until you come to your senses. Now stay upright and lean back against Rhimi, I'm going to remove this thing."

Geralt just stared up at her for a moment but didn't dare to disobey. He was far from ready for another wave of pain, but he was willing to do anything to please her. Or at least not to anger her any further. The girl behind his back touched him in an almost comforting manner but he couldn't appreciate that. He just leaned against her and waited for the pain to come.

As Nenneke touched the shaft and started pushing, he let out a growl through his gritted teeth but did everything to tame his body to keep still.

"Take deep breaths," the priestess requested.

The witcher fought against his hitching lungs and kept drawing in huge amounts of oxygen until his ribs hurt. He heard Nenneke curse and mutter something about the arrow nicking his kidney and a need to change direction. Even though she was gentle, it hurt the same as when Renaud moved around with the shaft, if not more. A few more attempts to push further came and Geralt had enough.

"Nenneke," Geralt gasped, barely holding back the sobs. Sweat was dripping down his cheeks, drawing irregular lines. He wanted a break but couldn't find the air to say it.

"I almost have it, Geralt. Just hang in there."

Geralt shut his lips tightly and growled. For a moment, he didn't realize what was happening around him as the pain blinded him. It was a blade with cold sharp edge on his back plunging into his muscles, splitting it, that awoke him with new fresh pain.

He expected a pressure on the arrow again, instead, something metallic was being forced into the cut and the arrowhead was clasped between it. He had to stop getting air into his lungs and bite his tongue so as not to scream. The priestess wiggled out the arrowhead and extracted the shaft right after. With a grunt, the witcher sagged down in the arms of Rhimi. Having no energy left, he scarcely jerked when the two wounds were compressed. Head lolled to the side and full weight on Rhimi, he hoped he would pass out. But he was still aware. And sick.

"Geralt," the priestess called, cupping his face. "Are you with me?"

He murmured something incoherent, and his eyes fluttered, then shut open.

"Geralt? Do you hear me?" asked the priestess and tried to make him drink something. "What did you say?"

Geralt was still overwhelmed by the pain, but the haze was slowly disappearing, leaving him weak. He slowly straightened in Rhimi's arms

"I.." Geralt started, coming around with slow deep breaths. Blinking and searching around, he barely noticed the second student was already back in the room and in front of him, holding a cloth to his wounds to stop bleeding. He must have lost consciousness because he didn't hear her coming. She was pretty, short dark hair, and she saw him in his worst. As the other girl. That line of thoughts made him feel queasy. "I'm going to be sick."

Rhimi was first to react and grabbed a bowl, but Nenneke motioned her to wait.

"Geralt, try to keep it down. Come on, deep breaths," the priestess advised, drawing soothing circles on his back

Geralt tried, he knew there was still pain killing potion in his stomach, but his body was against him and convulsed. The bowl was set in front of him, and he threw up. There was not much in him, just the medicine and stomach acid and he felt drained when it was over.

"Fuck," he commented, completely out of breath, staring at the remains of the potion in the bowl, then he just sagged down, Rhimi caught him just in time before he could fall over and supported his weight.

Nenneke took his face in her hands. He was still conscious and responsive, only his expression was contorted from the pain and fatigue.

"Get it together, Geralt," Nenneke said. She was still angry, but it pained her seeing him like this, so her voice wasn't as stern as before. "Just hold on a bit. We are still not done, but we will get you to bed soon enough. I must clean the wounds first."

He grunted softly to acknowledge her words and gathered his strength to sit straight a little longer.

"Can I get some water?" He was unsure he could stomach it but there was still the bitter aftertaste in his mouth, and he wanted to get rid of it badly.

"A few small sips," Nenneke allowed. "We don't want you throwing up again."

One of the girls let him have it. He was reluctant to look up at them, he only saw their hands. Both had their hands bloody as they tried to stop the blood coming from his wounds. Soaked red pieces of linen were thrown into a bin on the floor, looking at it made him feel lightheaded.

After a moment, Nenneke was again behind his back and removed the cloth on the entry wound on his shoulder. It stung as she removed it, but it didn't bleed anymore. "I will be quick." She warned him and flushed the wound with water and vinegar.

The pressure of the water was so strong, that Geralt thought she pushed the arrow back in. Instinctively, he moved away, but Rhimi was there this time and stopped his defensive movements. Nenneke was thorough and repeated that process a few times more. Then continued the other wound, disregarding his groans and hitching breaths.

"That's enough," she said finally and patted his arm that shook. "Clean him up a bit, so we can take him to bed." Then she left them and went to the fireplace to mix and melt some herbs. She was exhausted as well, not so much physically, but emotionally. And there was still a lot to do.

TBC

Um, so... that was Geralt's horrid night. I am not very proud of this chapter, lots of POV switching, it is messy… but it was super fun to daydream it :D I love it when the healer is upset with the patient. In whump, lol. Also, I attended a random presentation about archery, where the main topic was the medieval treatment technique of arrow shots. It was shortly before Witcher series aired and this fic was perfect place to use this awesome "knowledge" :D

Next chapter no time jump. This will continue. Then maybe I'll grant him some comfort. Not for a long though :-)