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Old 09-20-2006, 10:30 AM   #195
Folwren
Messenger of Hope
 
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Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
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Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
When Athwen finished with Rog and checked Azhar to see if she had fallen asleep yet, she quietly walked to Dorran. He sat cross legged, with his head down and his arms folded at his waist. Athwen knelt in front of him and touched his face gently. He looked up, half startled.

“How did you fair, my brave man?” she asked in a soft, tender voice. Her fingers trailed his cheek and jaw line and she tilted his chin a little more so that his face looked straight into hers. A shadow of concern fell over her face. “Are you hurt?”

Dorran pulled away and stared at the ground attempting to avoid his wife’s eyes. He had thought of saying nothing about what had happened. Athwen would have greater problems to deal with once they had gotten to the slave camp. The last thing he wanted was for her to waste precious time and energy worrying about his injuries or dwelling on the attackers. Almost as quickly, he changed his mind. Too often, he reflected, those things you don’t know carry more fear than the simple, unvarnished truth. The best thing he could do was to spell out what had happened. He was too experienced a Rider, and Athwen had seen too much to pretend anything else.

He spoke without hesitation. “I’ll live. A couple of bumps and bruises, a gash on the head. Those aren’t bad. Unfortunately, I broke my rib. Every time I breathe, there’s pain in my side.” This time he met Athwen’s eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his face, “I know, I know. I couldn’t have done it at a better time! Tomorrow we’ll need every able bodied man to fight, and here I sit.”

Athwen frowned a little and quietly ordered him to remove his belt and his weapons so that she could get to it. He obeyed slowly and stiffly. “Never mind,” she murmured and finished it for him. She pulled away the sword belt and laid it to the side. Her hand felt his side to see if she could detect this broken rib.

“Yes, my sweet, I can already here what you're going to say next,” Dorran commented, nodding. “No fighting or strenuous labor till we’re sure the bone is healing. I’m enough of a soldier to realize I can’t wriggle out of a healer’s orders. . .especially when that healer is my wife.”

He paused before responding to her other question, the one she had not yet spoken out loud. “I was fortunate. Fortunate, indeed. Three of the slavers approached Lindir and I on horseback, ready to give hue and cry to rouse the entire camp. I led two of them on a merry chase. As luck would have it, one was thrown when his horse stepped in a rabbit hole.”

Athwen stood up and offered her hand. “Stand up, I can’t bandage it with you sitting there.” He stood up slowly, putting as little pressure as he could afford on Athwen as he did so, but all the same, she took a stumbling step forward as he heaved upwards. Athwen gently helped him remove the shirt. “Then what happened?” she asked, knowing it was better to keep a patient talking.

“I dealt with the other one,” he went on. “And there I lay like a sack of turnips in our cellar till one of the slaves came riding by and brought me back. Now you know the truth. Rather than helping slaves escape, I am already in their debt. But that’s not important. The others did their job, and the children have been rescued. And even if I can not fight tomorrow, I can still think and plan. That has to be worth something.”

He picked up her hand, cradling it gently in his. “I fear this will get worse before it gets better. Who knows what lies out there?” His gaze strayed reluctantly to the north. “I know this can’t be easy for you. But I wouldn’t have come alone, not at this point in our lives. Still, I feel this is something I'm meant to do. I don’t know how to say this, but thank you for agreeing to come, for being here and tending to me and to so many others. I only hope that someday we can look back on this and laugh. Now, if you have any magic tricks in that bag of yours, which will take away some of this pain, I would be much obliged.”

Athwen smiled and stepped close to him. She put her arms about his neck, lifting her face upwards as high as she could. “I can find something, but try this first.” He bent his head to let his lips meet hers and they kissed. Athwen backed away and let go. “I’m glad you made it out alive, Dorran,” she said. “You were lucky, as you said. I’ll see what I can do. There’s not much that can be done for a broken rib, though. I wish you’d been more careful. I can’t give you anything for the pain until we can make some tea. I need to make some for Azhar, so you’re in luck, but we can’t make any until we have a fire, and we can’t make a fire until we get out of here.”

She led him over to the healing packs as she spoke and set to work binding up his ribs. When that was finished, she cleaned the slight cut in his scalp.

“There, you’re done. Now, understand, there’s to be no fighting or strenuous work until that bone’s well on it’s way to being healed.”

Dorran began to chuckle, but the effort was cut short, ending in a short gasp. Athwen shook her head as she wound up the remaining bandage and put it away.

“No laughing, either.”

Last edited by Folwren; 09-22-2006 at 08:39 AM.
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