Title: Halla the Huntress

Author: ontuva

Beta: Not betaed, so if you see any mistakes, please, let me know :)

Warnings: Cursing and other bad words, missing limbs, Elkbards' POV

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's characters or Middle-Earth. I don't get any money from writing this, I'm just doing this for my own fun. :) Everything you recognise is from the hand of mr. Tolkien. I only own my OC's.

A/N: Ha, two reviews! Thank you! ^^

Word count: 2,679

Chapter 3: Healer

"I curse that woman and that damned healer! 'Stay up and watch her! It's not like you have anything better to do.' Damn him! Better to do? Right now I could be in the tavern drowning my annoyance in a wonderful pint of mead – a mead Éothain would surely buy for me – but no! 'Stay here!' The horselords are looking at me and laughing! I can feel it in my bones!" Elkbard muttered while sitting next to Halla's bed. "Can't spare anyone else to watch her? In my arse! I know the old sack of bones is probably laughing at his beard right now! Oh, how low has the great and might Elkbard sunk, watching over a woman!"

He shifted his position when he heard Halla whispering something to herself. The damned woman hadn't woken even when Elkbard had shaken her and yelled her to do so. Of course he had done it when the healer was absent. Elkbard wasn't stupid, and although Nerian was old, the grumpy healer still had fire in him. The fact that he also was the only healer they currently had may have affected Elkbard's decision making too. He didn't want to wake up one morning to realize his cock had shrunken and would eventually fall off. He wasn't really sure if the healer really was able to do so, but he wouldn't take his chances. He liked his cock.

"Éothain owes me two pints of mead," he concluded after listening Halla whimper for a while. "This is way too embarrassing. One pint won't be enough." The thought of the sweet nectar of life improved his mood a little. Maybe he could persuade Éothain buying him three. Or even four! He smacked his lips together. Yes, four might be enough for him to consider Éothain as his friend again.

"You smell foul, Elkbard," the ill-tempered woman next to him commented on common tongue, not opening her eyes.

"I smell manly," Elkbard retorted and gazed at her. He might have considered her cute, maybe even beautiful, but he absolutely hated her short-cropped hair. It made Halla look like a boy. The fact that right now it was smeared to her skull with sweat made it look even less appealing. One of her eyes opened and squinted in the light.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, going straight to the point. She still looked rather feverish, but she was sweating. It was a good sign and meant her fever was coming down. She opened the other eye too and blinked like an owl for a while.

"Two days," Elkbard grunted and tried to see if the healer was back. The tavern was calling his name! He could feel the pull in his heart. The woman was awake, so he didn't need to be here anymore!

"I see," Halla murmured and tried to rise to a sitting position. Elkbard glared at her. The healer's instructions were clear. She was not to move.

"You aren't allowed to do that," he said and placed his hand at her shoulder, stopping her movement. Elkbard received an angry look from Halla. "Healer's orders." Halla snorted, but stopped her wiggling.

After that the silence enveloped them. It was uncomfortable and awkward and Elkbard suddenly decided he needed five pints of mead from Éothain. He felt like a chaperone and didn't like it one bit. There had been only once case when he actually had enjoyed watching over a woman and she had been Éomer's little sister. And many years ago.

The silence broke when the door to the hut was kicked open and Éomer's rohirrim started to pour in, carrying their injured comrades to the free beds and chairs making the small room crowded in mere seconds. Elkbard rose swiftly from his chair when Éomer himself entered and couldn't resist a flinch when the man threw his helmet in the corner of the room.

"Where's the healer?" he yelled in Rohirric not bothering to look for him. "We need him immediately! I'm not letting my rohirrim die on my hands just because the orcs are using poisoned arrows! Filthy shits!" Éomer was fuming and by the looks of it, so were many others too. The ones occupying the beds didn't look good though. One young boy had lost his arm and Elkbard couldn't even recall his name. He did feel a pang of guilt in his heart because of it. He should know the names of his comrades.

"Elkbard!" Éomer had finally realised he was in the room too. "Where in the name of Arda is Nerian? Or one of his pupils? What use it is to have a healer's house when he is not even present when I bring my injured in?" Elkbard didn't have time to answer, because then the healer scurried inside.

"Oh my," he stated and hurried towards the armless youngster. That tore Éomer's gaze from Elkbard and instead he started listening to the healer, his faze growing sterner every minute.

"Elkbard, where are my saddlebags?" Halla asked with voice that was barely audible in the room. People were running around, taking orders, boiling water, bringing herbs, calming their friends and comrades. Some of the injured where muttering to themselves and one was screaming his head off while trashing wildly in his bead, his friend trying to hold him still. Elkbard noticed Halla was following the pair intently.

"You don't need your saddlebags now! There are more important things going on," he muttered. "I'm going to help them!" He nodded towards the pair and left Halla's bedside not listening to her protests. She could have her silly saddle bags later! Right now Elkbard was needed elsewhere. He recognized the pair now. They were twins, Deogol and Dreogan if he remembered correctly, from near the border of Gondor. They had come to Aldburg after orcs had slain their mother and their little sister while they were working in the fields. Éomer hadn't needed much of persuasion to let the two join the ranks of rohirrim.

"What happened?" Elkbard grunted while taking a firm grip of the young man's shoulders. He wasn't sure which on was which. Only Éomer was able to tell the twins apart and he hadn't revealed how he did it.

"We found the orcs," Deogol or Dreogan said and tried to bind his brother to the bed with a leather strap. "It seems the bastards have found a new poison. Deogol was hit early in the battle to his hip with an arrow. We first thought the wound was healing well, but then this," he waved at Deogol, "started happening. And he is not the only one." Dreogan glanced around the room and Elkbard followed his example. True enough a lot of the injuries didn't seem life threatening, but the men still were looking as they were dying. His gaze went around the room and stopped when he saw Halla's bed. Halla's empty bed to be exact.

"Where is that insolent female?" he muttered in common tongue and tried to find her. It seemed he was looking too far.

"I'm right here you ugly brute" Halla's voice could be heard behind him. "Keep him still or otherwise he will spill this all over the place and we seriously can't afford to waste this stuff." She was holding a small cup in her hands.

"What is that?" Elkbard asked with suspicion in his voice while Dreogan was eyeing them questioningly. He didn't speak common tongue enough to understand what they were saying. Halla was swaying on her feet and looked like she was going to pass out any moment, but there was a fire burning in her eyes that wasn't fever.

"My piss to make his death even more embarrassing, you idiot! What do you think it is?" she yelled. "Counterpoison! Now hold his head!" There was something in the woman's tone that made Elkbard do exactly what Halla said without asking questions. Only after she had poured the foul-looking drink in Deogol's mouth was Elkbard beginning to come out of his haze. Dreogan was talking rapidly in Rohirric wanting to know what was going on and who in the name of the horselords was the woman who was currently stroking his brother's forehead and whispering words to him in a language neither of them knew.

Elkbard was about to answer Dreogan when Halla suddenly whirled around and started her unstable walk towards another patient. She had to stop and lean on the bed for a while to gather herself. Elkbard glanced at Dreogan, who still had no idea what just had happened, but at least Deogol had stopped his trashing and was now lying peacefully on the bed. For once Elkbard decided it was time to swallow his pride.

He swooped Halla to his lap and carried her to the next patient. She didn't even have time to protest.

"Do your magic," he gruffed and laid her on the chair. "I'll carry you around." He knew from the look on her face that she was about to protest. "Look, if you start wobbling around the room someone's bound to knock you over and you'll hurt yourself. This way it's more quicker too. I'm quite sure we are in a hurry." She closed her mouth, nodded and pointed at her bed.

"Bring me my saddlebags and water." It was probably the first time in Elkbard's life when he obeyed woman's orders without question. Éothain would have to buy him at least eight pints.

They were treating their third patient, or rather Halla was treating and Elkbard just standing in wonder, when Nerian noticed what was going on. The healer left his current patient and hurried to see what Halla was doing.

"Amazing, amazing," he muttered and looked at the woman with clear interest in his eyes. "You know what poison they are using? And also possess the counterpoison?" It looked like the old man's birthday had come early this year.

"I had a friend who almost died of this poison, so I recognize symptoms well. After that incident I took it upon myself to always carry the counterpoison with me." She dug her saddlebag and offered the healer a small bag of blackish powder. "Two spoonfuls mixed with a cup of water. And it needs to be given quickly. Even now I'm not sure if everyone will survive."

"And words you are saying?" the healer inquired. Halla smiled a sad smile.

"A prayer to the Valar, nothing more," she explained and Nerian nodded.

"Thank you," he said and started to help the patients who yet hadn't received their dose. Halla sighed and leaned herself against a chair.

"I was afraid he would not listen to me," she sighed. "That's why I started giving them out myself." Elkbard did not know what to answer to that. He himself hadn't listened to her at first. The healer was quicker at his work than Halla, mostly because he told others to help him.

The unmoving character in the corner of the room woke Elkbard's interest. Éomer was sitting on a stool, his hands on his head, staring into nowhere. He had a small cut on his cheek, but otherwise seemed unharmed. He hadn't yet removed his armour and his helmet was still laying on the floor where he had thrown it.

"He needs to drink too." Halla stole Elkbard's attention. "There is a yellowish glint in his eyes and his hands are trembling. It won't be long before he starts ranting and trashing around too." Elkbard glanced at Halla and then back at Éomer. He couldn't see well in the dim light, but his Marshal did seem a bit off. He never sat still. Especially not in the healer's house, where he was constantly checking on how his men were doing. Nerian seemed to be busy with other patients, so Elkbard lifted Halla to his arms again.

Éomer glanced up when they arrived next to him and seemed surprised to see Halla. Up close even Elkbard could see that Halla was right. His commander looked sick.

"I'm sure you shouldn't be up yet," Éomer commented to Halla and glanced at Elkbard. "You let her get up."

"More like she was up before I noticed," Elkbard muttered, "but she has the counterpoison. You need to take it too." Elkbard didn't bother calling Éomer sir or Marshal, because he knew Éomer hated it. Except when the situation needed it, like in court.

"So that's what this is," Éomer sighed and flexed his fingers. "I thought I was just exhausted from the ride."

"That's the first symptom," Halla explained and handed Éomer the cup she had carried. "After that your eyes become bloodshot and you start to feel dizzy and disoriented. The worst stage is where your eyes start to have yellowish glint and you began hallucinating. Death usually follows soon afterwards. The poison is slow, sometimes it might take even a week to kill a person, but only a small scratch is enough to deliver it." Éomer listened to her intently, then swallowed the drink with one go and winced afterwards.

"Tasted even fouler than my sister's cooking," he concluded and closed his eyes leaning to the wall. "How long until it will take effect?"

"One to three hours depending on how far the poisoning has advanced," she answered. Elkbard noticed Halla was looking very sick herself.

"Time to go back to bed," Elkbard said. Halla turned her feverish gaze at him. She would soon need another dose of willow bark and probably something stronger too. Yet she waved him off.

"Not just yet," she said and turned to look back at Éomer. "May I say a prayer for you?"

"I didn't take you for a religious person" was Éomer's answer as he looked at Halla under his eyelids. A small blush appeared on the woman's face. Or perhaps it was the fever, Elkbard couldn't be sure.

"I'm not. It's more of a tradition" she offered as an explanation. Elkbard started to feel like he was the third wheel here. He got the same feeling everytime Éothain saw his girl.

"Feel free to do whatever you feel is necessary," Éomer gave her the permission. Halla rested her hand on Éomer's forehead and Elkbard got the sinking feeling in his stomach that he was invading something personal here. Halla recited her prayer while Éomer stared right at her eyes. Elkbard decided to look somewhere else. He was invading, he was sure of it. Damn woman! Damn Éomer! And mostly damn Éothain!

After Halla's final words faded into silence Elkbard decided it was alright for him to remind that the woman needed her rest. To his surprise he didn't have the chance to do so.

"Was that elvish?" Éomer asked from Halla and to his and Elkbard's surprise Halla's reaction was far from what they had expected. She stood straighter, her jaw took a defiant stance and her eyes were full of disdain.

"No" was her short answer. "You'll forgive me, sirs, I fear I need to go and rest now." Even without her using of words the message was clear – she didn't want to speak to them anymore. Halla turned on her heels and slapped Elkbard's hand away when he offered to help her.

"I can survive on my own, thank you very much," she hissed and limped towards her bed.

"I swear to Valar, I'll never understand women," Éomer muttered.

"They are good at making mead," Elkbard said. "Which reminds me of a debt Éothain needs to pay right about now." Éothain would owe him ten pints. At least.