The Dare

In the evening, I ate a small meal in the herb room. It was one of the few rooms that did not have wounded in it. As I ate, my thoughts turned to the white lady. She seemed so hopeless, so listless. I was at a loss as to her malady. Her arm was mending. She seemed to take no other hurt. The bleakness in her eyes worried me.

“Dare I hope you are thinking of me?” a familiar voice entered my ear. I turned to see Dior. He had a clean tunic on and his sword hung by his side.

“Oh, Dior, I fear you are to be disappointed. I was thinking about the Lady Eowyn.”
“She is not still ill is she?”

“No. At least not in body. Her heart though. She has no spirit.”

“How are your other patients?” he asked.

“There are so many. Most are getting better, but some have passed from this life. Where have you been?” he looked pained.

“I have been burying the dead on the field.” he said flatly.

“Oh, Dior. What a sad duty.”

“But one that must be done. So many brave men died on that field. No monument can really honor them as they should be honored. I have something for you,” he said with sadness in his eyes. He handed me a small bag.

I opened it and found a signet ring, a plain silver band and name stone with his name and home scratched on it. I didn’t need the stone to know who the dead man was. The signet ring had a Falcon with seven stars surrounding it. Tears began to well in my eyes. It was my father’s ring. The plain silver band was his wedding ring.

“So Uncle Léod was right. He is dead.” I looked up again at Dior. “How did you come by this? There are thousands of men on the field.”

“Your uncle Léod. I was helping bury the Rohirrim. He was there gathering the name stones. He asked if I knew where the Houses were and that his niece was a healer there. That I should give this to you. He said it wouldn’t be hard to find you. ‘She’s Eothoed. She is also the only young and pretty woman in the place.’ In spite of my grief, I chuckled softly.

“My uncle Léod is not one to mince words.”

We looked into each other’s eyes. Grief and pain mirrored. Dior crossed the narrow space between us, at next to me and put his arms around me. My eyes blurred with tears.

We heard someone clear his or her throat behind us and jumped apart.

Silmairë stood in the doorway. “Pardon the intrusion. But Master Cirin has need of Mistress Eolindë.” She said with a blush. I snapped to attention at her words. Thoughts of my father were tucked away and I quieted my heart. Dior looked at me with concern.
“I must go. There will be time for grieving later,” I said evenly. He nodded silently. I tucked my father’s rings in the small bag that hung at my waist.

When I arrived at the room, Master Cirin was preparing his instruments and another assistant was stoking a fire. His shoulders shagged. “Master Cirin, I was told you needed me?” He looked up. His face was streaked with grime and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He had a look of sadness mixed with resignation. On the bed was a young soldier wearing the livery of Dol Amroth. His right lower leg was wrapped in bloody bandages.

“His leg was crushed. I need to remove it and I need you to assist.”

I blanched. “Sir? I’m not sure…” he cut me off.

“I need you to hand me my instruments, hold his leg steady,” he said sharply. I inhaled deeply and took my place opposite him. The bandages were soaked with blood and fluid. The stench of the old meat filled my nostrils. The assistant, Beor, put his knee on the young man’s chest to hold him down. A gag had been tied around the soldier’s chest and a cup of what I knew to be poppy juice was on the table. Master Cirin held a small saw over the fire. He came over to the bed and motioned me to hold the leg steady and began sawing just below the man’s knee. I looked away and tried to focus my attention on the bandaged leg in front of me. The teeth of the saw bit into bone and I winced. The soldier jerked a few times. I glanced at him briefly. Tears creeped from the corners of his eyes. Then he went slack.

“Now, Eolindë, quickly, hand me the poker.” I grabbed the poker, It had a flat piece on the end and it was red hot. I watched in horrified fascination as he set it against the stump. The sickly acrid smell of seared flesh now filled the room. I could feel bile creep up the back of my throat and I swallowed hard.

“Now the bandages.” I handed him some clean linen wraps, which he wound around the burnt flesh. Beor put the limb near the door to be taken away. It would go to a field for burying with the thousands of other body parts that had come off in the past three days.

Master Cirin washed his hands in a basin and then I took my turn. As I was drying my hands, he put his arm around my shoulders.

“Will he live?” I asked weakly.

“If the stump does not get infected and he hasn’t lost too much blood, he has a chance.” he replied grimly. “You did well, Mistress Eolindë. Not many men could do what you did. You will be a master healer before long.”

“Thank you sir. If you have no further need of me, may I go?”

“Yes, of course. Try to get some rest.”

“You do the same Master Cirin.” And I stepped out.

I staggered to a bench outside. A few stars peaked through the gloom. Suddenly, I was leaning over, retching the minimal contents of my stomach. I wiped my mouth with a grimy handkerchief. My body ached with fatigue. I knew I should get up and try to find a bedroll. But, moving seemed to require too much effort. My hand brushed the bag the held my father’s rings and stone. Tears began rolling down my cheeks. Then came the flood. I felt as though a wild animal was tearing its way out of my chest. I could scarcely breath from the pain. I was heartsick, worn, and filthy. The horror of the past few days rose up. My world disappeared in a fog of heavy blackness that enveloped me. My tears seemed endless.

Time passed though how much I did not know. Dimly, I heard a voice. A quiet male voice speaking strange words in soft tones. His arm went around me and he smelled of leather.

“Faeder?” I said.

“No, menlith min.” he answered softly.

He picked me up and carried me. I was barely aware of my surroundings but I tried to protest. “Shh” was all he said. Then, a female voice spoke. “Oh my! The poor child, bring her in.” I laid down on something soft. A gentle kiss brushed my cheeks. “Sleep well menlith min.” And I fell into a deep sleep.