Infirmary
The Infirmary is an area of clean floorboards and white walls. Not a speck of dust or dirt can be found here. Three beds are available for patients use, each one with a small trunk at its foot for the patient's person items and a place where a medical chart can be hung. Between the three beds, two curtains have been hung on poles creating a sense of privacy for each invalid, yet allowing the healer's an easy view in. A cabinet with bottles, pouches and scrolls can be seen toward the back of the room. A small chair rests beside it. A set of wooden shelves holds a wash basin, towels and extra blankets. The single window in the infirmary looks out over the front rose garden.

From Healing House - Main Room, Sorhin has arrived.
From Healing House - Main Room, Sorhin enters into the infirmary.
Sorhin arrives from the main room.
Sorhin has arrived.

Lying in bed, looking none the worse for wear, is Gerthan. A cross between a grimace and a smirk is on his face, and it is difficult to tell if he is ready to laugh at himself or start cursing. His left knee is bandaged up, the only sign of injury from his fight with Niebel. He mutters something underneath his breath.

The curtain, sealing the infirmary and the rest of the Healing House apart is drawn to the side and a woman appears in its way. She looks around as if searching for someone in particular, but obviously there is but one soul there to find. She sighs and is about to turn around when she changes her mind and her eyes focus upon the man lying in the bed. A hint of a smile plays upon her lips - but it is not one of well-meaning or happiness but rather smirk. "The man who got beat up by a hobbit?" she asks out loud with a mocking tone on her voice.

Shaking his head in annoyance and disgust, Gerthan mutters something indeciperable under his breath. He sighs deeply, but in the end says, "Yes, I suppose that is who I am. But in all fairness he had a club and he hit me in a rather unpleasant location." He scowls a little, and regards the newcomer cooly. "And who might you be, who has nothing better to do than come in and make fun of me?"

The slight grin becomes more of a bubbly giggle and then becomes an outright laugh - still, she restrains herself swiftly. The curtain falls closed behind her as she takes one step further into the room. "I suppose the hobbit did us all a favour then," she says plainly, letting the insult ring in the air. With another step, Sorhin os now conveniently standing close enough to the bed for the man not to be able to reach out for her, yet close enough to have a good look. "I do have better things to do...," she continues suddenly. "I am looking for Ms. Mira Malady. She is a nurse here... But what can I say? Seeing the man who lost to a hobbit - that does make my day!"

Holding his head in his hands, Gerthan does not look very happy. "Well, I thought people tended to be sympathetic to those who were in the infirmary, but I guess not. And as I said, he had a club. And to give him credit, those hobbits are harder to catch than you would think. I think they must be related to jackrabbits or something to be that fast." His head raises up off his hands and he sighs again, almost inaudibly. He gets up out of the bed, and gingerly takes a couple of steps back and forth, next to his bed.

"Hobbits are small and fat - with or without a club!" She smirks. "Only a fool...," she looks directly at Gerthan "...attempts to catch them with his hands. Kick them!" She shakes her head and takes a step towards the exit. "And why have sympathy with a man lying here feeling sorry for himself..." she pauses. "...for being hurt by a greasy midget!" Although she has turned her back to Gerthan, her words are obviously accompanied by a mocking smirk.

Finding his knee more or less to his satisfaction, Gerthan addresses the woman whose name he still does not know, "Well, perhaps you are right. I was only resting up my knee for a little while under orders from the healers, and though it still hurts, if I could manage to walk over here myself, I figure I can manage to leave by myself also." Indeed, Gerthan does seem to be able to walk alright, though with a slight limp. He takes a few slow steps towards the curtain, past the woman.

Following right behind Gerthan is Sorhin. "I wonder," she mumbles in a thoughtfully "...if your name is going to be spelt without a capital now that a hobbit has vanquished you." Her voice continues the mockery from behind. "The best thing would be if I kicked you where it hurt. Then BOTH a woman and a hobbit have shown you your place..." She laughs to herself. "That would be quite neat, wouldn't you agree?"

Grabbing the woman as she is about to walk past, Gerthan turns her around to face him. His eyes seem to betray both sadness and anger. "Look, I've gotten enough grief from people I know, I don't need it from some nameless wench. So if you have nothing positive to say, then you better not say it. Now get out of here." He releases her, waiting for what her decision will be.

With the coldest of eyes, Sorhin responds not at all. Then her face crumbles in pure disgust as he releases her and she swiftly she kicks Gerthan as hard as her being can. "I would haveyou arrested for that!" she hisses loudly.

Barely managing to sidestep out of the way, Gerthan's movement causes him to fall backwards, and he lands with a seat on the bed. He shakes his head again, and says, "This is not my week." Getting up once more off the bed, he takes a few steps closer to the woman, waiting for her to leave the room.

"Or maybe not your month? Or year? Or lifetime?" she adds. "Good-bye my great hobbit-vanquisher - you might actually accomplish the feat one day! And when you do..." she turns her head and gives him a sarcastic smile. "You might try to have a go at me!" Did she wink or was that just your mind laying atrick on you? With three long and swift steps she is out of the room.