Warning: used some motives from the Iorveth's path that can be treated as having a spoiler nature.
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING when it comes to The Witcher franchise.
A/N1: it's an old fan-fiction of mine, first one that involves Iorveth as primary character and Roche as immoral whoreson. All was left to do is add few sentences – which I did. Not the peak of my storytelling but I think it's a good story nonetheless.
A/N2: Feldsher - a health care professional who provides primary, obstetrical and surgical care services mainly in rural medical centers and ambulatories.
She found the Fox caught by dogs
By your-biohazardous-friend
Saesenthessis first met the male elf in Flotsam forest, all bruised, battered and bleeding. He was waiting for his death curled up with the culprit above his frame. The man towering above him was dressed in white-blue uniform with chaperon on his head. His eyes were dark, not only colour-wise, but also because of inhuman viciousness written all over his face. For Saesenthessis the solider was like the leader of Wild Hunt in human's skin. The culprit seemed to love violence and blood just for the sake of watching other's suffering. He craved for it only in a way that monsters were capable of. Anger filled the dragoness' veins. Those kind of people were a violation of the love of humankind her father implanted in her heart! Female dragon roared. The howl scared all animals away. Suddenly the whole forest silenced. The human also stilled, petrified, darting scarred eyes around the clearance. But he couldn't see a thing through the wall of trees and shrubberies. The forest was old, trees enormous, bushes thick. The female dragon emitted another fearsome roar, to which the human solider finally decided to retreat. Slowly, silently and with caution – clumsily mimicking elven manner of walking.
When the culprit was gone Saesenthessis decided to morph into her human form. As a 'Saskia', she was still very strong, stronger than any male warrior, so she picked up the fallen non-human with ease. Even though the elf was, at first, conscious enough to oppose against it, Saskia decided to just support his wobbly legs. However 'supporting' was rather exaggerated word in this case as the elf took a proud step then collapsed into her arms. If not her strength she would fall to the ground, dragged by male elf's weight.
Everyone in Vergen knew him – Iorveth – the infamous 'Woodland Fox'. Saskia had hard time finding a medic brave enough to treat his wounds. The only person up to the task was a down-to-Earth dwarven Feldsher called Rupert.
The Fledsher whistled amused when he finally stripped down the elf warrior from multiply layers of his clothes and some makeshift dressings. Few of the older wounds scattered around his body were already heavily infected. His bandages were all soiled with dirt, pus and blood – the makeshift treatment did more harm than good and resulted with a serious fever among other symptoms. Rupert did his best to treat cuts and scrapes. The dwarf even stitched eyelids together of the elf's missing eye so the wound on his face could finally heal properly. Despite all the help, Rupert gave Iorveth a day or two before his body succumbed to the pain and his soul would leave his body.
Three days later the elf was still fighting for his life. In delirium caused by raging fever, medications and Fisstech, which Rupert used to numb his patient's pain, Iorveth would very often call his, mostly fallen, companions, who were more haunting him than bringing comfort. Who knew, maybe they were calling him to the land of the dead? At the times like this Saskia would hold his hand gently, entwine his fingers in hers. She would also whisper comforting words in Elder Speech. Brush away his sweat slicked dark hair. If Iorveth was conscious enough, he would focus his watery, blood-shot eye on her, but the woman doubted he recognized her.
Once the elf was better, yet still not well enough to leave the bed, they mostly spent their time silently, relaxing next to each other. Each time Saskia visited the Scoia'tael leader she would bring with her a decent meal full of millet and big chunks of meat dipped in greasy sauce, some human sweets like Iorveth's favourite Zerrikanian lokum or even Nilfgaardian halva. He never asked about the source of those, very expensive, treats – for sure he was following the golden rule: take everything what's given to you, run if you're about to be beaten up.
Each time the half-starved elf was eating almost everything by himself in one go, slurping, clicking without a grace, burning his tongue over the hot meals not even waiting for them to cool down. It looked as if he was not only afraid that the bowls and plates were to be taken from him in any minute but also as if he was eating for the future.
Saskia wasn't surprised by neither, remembering the human warrior and his vicious dark eyes, glimmering in the shadow casted by his headgear. As long as people like that monster were living on the earth, there wouldn't be any peace between the races. Saskia glanced at Iorveth's scarred face. He was asleep. She was sitting by his side wondering about the Life and the Universe. Simply about Everything.
Then she made a decision. One of those which could change the world.
comments, advices, constructive criticism etc. are always welcomed and appreciated!