[Taralphiel]

Lys stirred slowly from his slumber. He looked down to see the blood had been cleaned from his face and body while he slept though his broken limbs were not touched.

'My boy...what has happened to you? Quite a spill...quite a spill...'

Lys had woken to find an aged man shuffling into his room, eyeing him and making noises through his pursed lips. Lys stared at him with eyes round in fear, and the old man grinned a little. He began to inspect his limbs, and Lys whimpered in pain. He shut his eyes tight, knowing he could do little but submit.

'Broken. Not good at all, young man...'

He must have been a Healer, for while his poking and jabbing hurt the boy, he felt a warm care and tenderness in his actions. The man produced jars of salves and creams, and began to dab them gently on the clean cuts, some of which were deep and needed bandages. Then he carefully bound the limbs so that the bones could begin to heal right. Despite how he tried to keep still and perfectly quiet, Lys let out a small groan as the man began to tug at his limbs to place them out straight. As a plot to distract him it seemed, the healer began to ask him questions.

'My name is Hrethel...' he began slowly "I am a Healer at Meduseld, though I think you have already gathered that much. What may I call you by?'

'Lys' he said slowly, staring up at the silver-haired Hrethel.

'Lys...good name, but short. What be the rest of it?'

'I...do not know to tell you, Sir...' he said politely, wincing a little as Hrethel began to tightly wind a bandage.

'No? Strange someone know not their own name! Do you remember how you got this way then, young Lys?' The mans face was warm, but inquisitive. Lys did not like being asked questions he had no answer for.

'I cannot tell you that either, Sir. I do not remember anything. Not my full name, nor my family. Not even how I got to be here, or who rescued me...'

The Healer paused, looking softly into the boys eyes. He gently placed one long, wrinkled hand on his lap, while the other stroked his chin.

'I have known a poor man, whom on a great fall has woken and remembered naught of his life. Very rare a happening, but still an explanation for your problem, my boy...'

Hrethel leaned over and gently coaxed the boys body forward so he could bandage his ribs and the cut on his head. He propped Lys' back up with pillows, and the boy looked carefully down at his chest. His body was peppered with brusies of blue and purple, and his ribs ached terribly. Hrethel would not tell him this, but the marks were not left by human hand - it seemed a blunt implement had left these signs. Whoever did this to Lys had done so with savage cruelty.

Hrethel stood up and looked the boy over once more. 'All I can say for the rest of your treatment is rest. Eat, drink and sleep aplenty will see you right. I shall send one of the lasses up with some bread for you. Your stomach asks louder than you can squeak!'

The old man chuckled, but before he could get far enough out of the door, Lys called out to him softly.

'Sir, I am most grateful to you for your kindness and care to me in your house...'

Hrethel laughed more at this 'Not my house, young man! Though now I beg your pardon, for I did not explain in full. You are in the Mead Hall of Lord Eodwine of Middle Emnet. When you are better, you shall work off what you owe to him, and not to me.'

Lys tilted his head slightly 'Then was Lord Eodwine the man that rescued me? I owe him more than I can repay.' Hrethel's brow furrowed 'I know not who brought you in, young Lys. That is a question to ask him. For now, you should get some more sleep!
He will return to check on you by days end, and you can question him how you like!'

Lys nodded and thanked Hrethel once more before he left. Easing himself down against the mattress, he found no small wonder in the Healer's work. His ankle was tighlty bound so the dull aching had left him, and the sweet smell of the creams on his cuts soothed him into a much more comfortable sleep.