The sound of intermingled crying with whoops and shouts roused Léofe far sooner that she would have liked. She rubbed her eyes, wishing with all her might for just a little more rest, but the noise grew louder, and with a sigh, she rolled over in the cot, yawning.
The little space where the cots were set up was not a proper chamber, but rather a smaller cavern cut into the side of the larger cave, and Léofe was the only one in it. That part was a bit befuddling; were no others as tired as she? Where was Ingwyn? Alfrida was nowhere in sight, but that was hardly surprising.
The noise seemed to be moving away from her, fading until there was nothing to her ears but the sound of her own breathing, and a stillness that might have suffocated her were she less tired. Léofe felt her eyes closing again, and pulling a blanket to her chin, she decided that she would rather sleep than explore the reason for her apparent solitude. And so she did.
.
.
Several hours she woke again, blinking in the darkness. The candles and makeshift fires which had lit the caverns earlier had burned down and were not relit; the only source of light came from the open door to the Hornburg, where Léofe could hear much talking. She was stiff, and so she knew she had probably slept through most of the day. This cheered her somewhat, and so she made for the steps upwards, intent on finding Alfrida. The lady would know the outcome of the battle, though Léofe realized that as she was alive and the voices she heard were certainly human, it was unlikely that the fortress had fallen…
She entered the kitchen, and was gripped by astonishment to see several people preparing food. It had only been Léofe and Alfrida for so long that the sight paused her in her steps for a moment. The smells were quite nice, too, and Léofe realized that she was famished. But she would not bother the workers.
The corridors bore signs of battle which the kitchen had not; odd debris, smears of black on the walls, and chipped rocks cracked beneath her boots. But it was mercifully empty, of the living or otherwise, and Léofe continued her search for Alfrida.
A fair amount of noise seemed to be coming from the hall, and so she turned towards its flickering light. Léofe nudged open a side door and peeked her nose into it. Several people were standing about and conversing; all loudly, but some were angry, some were upset, and some were excited. To her relief, Alfrida was there, and so was Erkenbrand! So he had returned. He appeared unhurt, though he was dirty and exhausted as he held his wife close. They were facing the dais, where a single chair stood. Léofe, facing the back of it, could not see who was sitting there, but as she watched, Alfrida walked forward to take the figure's hand. But then she caught sight of Léofe, and stood abruptly.
"Léofe!" Alfrida said. "Come in!"
As she did not recognize any faces apart from Alfrida and Erkenbrand, Léofe balked, but the lady waved her forward and she obeyed with shaking knees. Many curious eyes were upon her, and her face was burning.
"I was wondering where you were," Alfrida said, and looked searchingly at Léofe as she approached. "Were you still sleeping, even through the noise?"
"Yes," Léofe said in a small voice. "What—what happened?"
"We won," Erkenbrand interrupted gruffly. "With much sacrifice." Léofe felt as though there was far more to the story, but Erkenbrand's voice was one not to be presently questioned.
"Léofe…" Alfrida nodded her head towards the dais. "You should pay your respects to the king."
To the king! Léofe turned to face the figure in the tall chair, feeling as though she might faint. A hundred thoughts whirled about in her mind, and she swallowed several times. A hunched man sat, his hands empty and resting on his lap as he stared downwards. His hair was long and ash-white, though even the lines about his eyes did not hide his resemblance to his son. He lifted his head then, and she staggered before Alfrida gently nudged her forward. The king frowned as he saw her, his gaze stern as she knelt before him. Did he know? Léofe felt suddenly very aware of her dirty frock and her matted hair.
"What is your name?" The king's voice was not loud, but it made the air shiver as if in awe of his presence.
"L—Léofe, sire," she managed.
"Léofe." He spoke more quietly now, and offered her a hand, which she took. Her knees began to ache from the hard floor beneath them. "Léofe. I am an imperfect man, and I must ask your forgiveness for being unaware of your existence until recently."
"Of course," Léofe said dumbly, although she felt that the longer he spoke, the less she understood. His blue eyes were still searching intently into her own, and she felt herself flush.
"How can you bear it?" The king asked suddenly as his eyes blazed with fire. "What do you do, to appear so composed? I feel as though my grief might burst from me at any moment and consume my body in writhing flames!" The passion in his tone unnerved Léofe, though it resonated within her heart too, and she squeezed his hand.
"I can have few thoughts for myself," Léofe said. "Otherwise I shall be driven mad."
The shadow passed from his gaze, and he sat back in the chair. A low sigh from his lips, and then he spoke again. "Tell me of my son, Léofe. I want to know of Théodred."
.
.
When the king's guard left that afternoon, the Hornburg was left nearly empty. Most of the soldiers which Théodred and Erkenbrand had been gathering for so many months were sent home, and took their families with them. The wounded were left, as well as several widows which Alfrida had insisted on providing a home and work for as long as they needed. It was a welcome respite for Léofe, who was feeling odd and unsettled and bored and weary all at once.
She was grateful, at least, that she was not responsible for nor asked to assist with the cleaning efforts in the courtyard or before the Deeping Wall. And with more workers doing the tasks which she had become accustomed to the in the last weeks, Léofe's sense of unbelonging deepened.
On the second day from the battle, three significant things happened which combined, eased Léofe's aching spirit. Firstly, the doors from the great hall were thrown open to the spring sunshine, which welcomed a warm breeze which had not been felt in what seemed like weeks. This meant that the Wall was cleaned and repaired enough for Léofe to talk a walk in the fresh air beside the stone parapets.
The first hints of green were spreading across the bare trees which decorated the mountainside. Still the valley was brown, but it has a lushness to it that gave a sense of renewal. A new hill covered with stones had been built somehow in the valley; she had not asked Alfrida where it came from nor did she wish to now. Even looking it made her spine tingle with dread. Léofe pulled her shawl tighter across her shoulders, staring out at the wide expanse of plains, yearning but knowing that she would not see what she wished to. Oh, Théodred, Théodred, why do you not come?
"Léofe."
She turned as was met by the sight of Ingewyn, holding her bundled baby and with Inge close to her side. A tall man was with them, and they were all smiling.
"I wanted to tell you thank you, and to tell you farewell," Ingewyn said. "We are going to Aldburg. Marshal Éomer has offered Deor a position in his household."
"Oh, that is lovely," Léofe managed a smile in return. "And I am pleased to know that your man was not hurt."
"One of the few," Deor said in a deep voice. "I cannot express to you, miss, how grateful I am for your assistance and compassion to my wife during the birth of my son. It cannot be repaid."
Léofe stiffened, her brows creasing. "It does not need to be."
"Nonetheless," Deor reached out and gave to her a folded handkerchief, which encased something heavy. "Perhaps we will meet again."
"Goodbye." It was all she could say.
That little family was one of the last to leave, and emptiness began to echo in the Deep. But this apparent loneliness was to to last for her, for only a few hours later when Léofe was absently tidying her old bedchamber, Alfrida peeked in with a rather desperate expression. Somehow Léofe sensed that she was a moment away from significant work.
"Léofe, could you possibly help me in the infirmary? The healers have been working for three days with no sleep and I fear for those they are treating!"
"I know nothing of healing," Léofe said, but she followed Alfrida out anyway. Boredom was not sitting well with her.
"We have only little tasks to do," the lady informed her. "Feeding the patients, changing bandages—simple things. I do appreciate your willingness to help!"
Léofe only shrugged in response. She was not keen on wounds or the sight of blood, but it seemed a better option than sweeping her chamber again. Perhaps it could even distract her from the dreary thoughts which loomed over her, which still felt as though they were suffocating her.
The infirmary off of the kitchens was packed full. Wall to wall, there were dozens upon dozens of bloodied and bandaged men lying on makeshift cots. Most were asleep, though a few were moaning aloud; from dreams or pain, Léofe did not know. The dimly lit room was an eerie sight, and it unsettled her. Alfrida was clearly uncomfortable as well, and she stared dubiously about before speaking.
"I am more thankful than ever for healers. I am not cut out to be one, myself."
"Nor I," Léofe said faintly. The faint stench of blood was beginning to bother her. Though the battle had been a only a few days earlier, the healers had clearly done a fine job keeping the infirmary relatively clean. That much, she could be grateful for.
Alfrida was eying her. "That is not true," she said. "You did wonderfully with Ingewyn."
"A baby and a lost limb are entirely different," Léofe pointed out. "I would choose a breech birth over a wound any day. In fact—"
"You are plumb out of luck!" Alfrida gave a short laugh. "No births today. Roll up your sleeves, my girl, and we shall see what we are capable of!"
What exactly Léofe was capable of, she learned quickly. Years of tending to horses had left her with a working knowledge of herbs and tying bandages, but as she stared at the line of medicine-filled bottles on a shelf, she wished harder than ever that she could read properly. All of the bottles were labelled with parchment and a name, and so she could not choose which one was extract of poppy, which Alfrida had asked her to fetch for a patient that was moaning with pain. Léofe picked one up, uncorked it, and sniffed. An overwhelming stench made her recoil with horror, and she corked the bottle again, swallowing the impulse to gag.
"That is valerian root," a voice next to her said, "I would not smell it if I were you."
Irritated, Léofe scowled at the man lying prone on the cot, who was looking upwards at her with amusement. His eyes were bright as he smiled, so clearly he was not injured too badly. For now.
"Do I have to pay you for that wisdom?" Léofe said, her voice snide.
"No, I have offered it freely." The man was still looking at her, and she exerted her willpower not to flounce away. She returned her attention to the medicines, picking up another one which contained a murky syrup.
"Are you going to continue smelling them until you find the one you are looking for?" The man asked. "That may not be advisable."
"Well!" Léofe said. "I have little choice, sir, as I cannot read the bloody labels!" Her annoyance was rising, making her voice grow louder as well. It was terribly rude of her, but she ignored her whispering conscience.
"I can read them for you."
"Fine," she snapped, and brandished the bottle in her hand at him. "What is this?"
"Extract of garlic. That would have been quite a smell, thank you kindly for not opening it by me! The valerian was bad enough." He was still smiling as Léofe replaced the bottle. "I am Ceorl, by the way."
"What is this?"
"Mint."
"And this?"
"Poppy."
At last! Léofe stalked over to Alfrida, who was trying to help the struggling man to calm himself. He was kicking away his blankets, revealing a missing leg, which made Léofe cringe. "There is a cup there for him to use," Alfrida said, nodding towards a small table. "Dilute the poppy with water—use only a few drops!"
Léofe did as she was bid, and soon the man was drinking the medicine, though it was rather messy.
"He is feverish as well," Alfrida said. "Could you—"
"I will fetch coriander," Léofe said. "That will not react badly with the poppy."
Alfrida was nodding, but her attention was on the man.Léofe rushed to find the coriander, and with the overly-helpful Ceorl soon had another mixture to give to the fevered man. In his upset, his bandages on the stump of his leg were blossoming with red, which Alfrida was watching with nervousness.
"I have not the skill to brand the leg shut," she said quietly to Léofe as the man drank. "I do not know what to do!"
"Oak bark," Léofe suggested. "We can pack it on using a bandage, and if the leg is elevated it ought to help. Otherwise I can find a healer—"
"The healers are so tired, they might damage it more!" Alfrida said. "We can do this, Léofe. Fetch the bark."
That man was the most badly injured, and once he was at last resting (courtesy of the poppy) with his leg held up by a crutch, Alfrida and Léofe could turn their attention to the lesser wounds. Léofe attended several cuts and bruises, administered small amounts of poppy, and rewrapped what felt like one hundred bandages. One soldier had an inflamed wound on his shoulder, and she cleaned it with pure spirits (which made him very unhappy) before wrapping it in a clean bandage.
"You are a good healer."
Léofe could recognize Ceorl's voice by then. He was also the only man who had tried to speak to her. That did not prevent her from scowling in his direction, however. How she wished he had fallen under Alfrida's half of the room! "You may say differently when I am done with you," Léofe said as she knelt down beside him. He extended a bandaged arm to her.
"You do not care what they think of you," he continued. "You are not worried about their comfort, as long as they are being treated. Very admirable."
A nasty hole, presumable from an arrow, was visible. It had gone clean through his arm and between the bones. Léofe dampened a cloth with vinegar, and pressed it onto the wound. Ceorl did not flinch, and her opinion of him rose. Just a bit.
"I am not here to be liked," Léofe said in the awkward silence that followed. "So really, it hardly matters."
"You may find yourself liked anyway."
This Léofe ignored, and once she felt that the hole had been cleaned well enough she began to wind a clean bandage around it. "There," she said at last. "All done."
"My leg, too," Ceorl said, and pointed a long finger downwards. "I think the orcs were trying to use me as a pincushion."
Léofe had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Ceorl clearly had uncommonly good humor, and it felt good to be amused. She moved to attend to his leg, which indeed had a wound similar to his arm. And so she treated it the same, though much faster with her previous practice.
"Anywhere else?" she asked when finished.
"No."
"Good. And two pricks is hardly a pincushion, anyway."
Ceorl laughed then, and Léofe flushed red as she turned away.
She and Alfrida had finished with all the patients a short time later, and it was with great satisfaction that they relinquished control to a yawning healer, who was looking impressed. "It is quiet," the woman said. "But it is a peaceful quiet. Thank you."
Léofe washed her hands and arms and face in a bucket of cool water in the kitchen, wishing the memories of the blood and wounds could fade away so easily. The settling sun was shining through a nearby window, making the water sparkle with golds and oranges.
"Do you hear that?" Alfrida asked sharply. She had been cleaning herself in a different bucket, and Léofe looked up as she listened. It had been so quiet in the Keep the last days that she had to think for a moment.
"It sounds like the soldiers are moving," she said. "But—"
Alfrida did not even dry her hands before rushing away.
Léofe followed at a more sedate pace, though the sounds of horses and clanking armor and shouts made her insides twist with worry. Was the battle not over? Clearly not—for all the soldiers of the Deep were mounted and moving out through the great Gate. Léofe stared, and then saw Alfrida standing by herself before the doors to the hall.
"I cannot believe it!" Alfrida said in a choked voice when Léofe approached. "Erk is gone! He could barely tell me goodbye and then he left!"
"Where are they going?" Léofe said, hushed.
"To Stoneland," Alfrida said bitterly. "We fight their war, though they abandoned us to ours." There were tears on her cheeks, and Léofe was suddenly overwhelmed by an aching sadness. She hugged Alfrida close, and together they watched the exodus until it disappeared from the valley with the last rays of the setting sun.