Logs-Pretty Bandaged

Infirmary(#19143Rahn)

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.

Obvious exits:
Curtain to Main Room

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Mon Mar 08 02:11:31 2004
Bree time: Dawn <6:34 AM> on Hevensday of Summer - August 16,1431
Moon Phase: Full Moon

Breelands Weather
The dawn summer air is very hot and dry around you. The murky sky is overcast
and dreary.
===============================================================================

Dawn has settled over Bree, though the sun is obscured by a shifting
mass of grey cloud. The birds have awakened and sing in the morning, while the
late-summer air is becoming muggy and humid and fortelling of rain. Silently
sits the infirmary, although there is much bustle and noise from further down
the hill where young hobbit children play energetically in the street while the
other citizens of the town stumble to avoid tripping on their games.

Not entirely deserted, the curtain is drawn back, the shutters to the
window are thrown open (and the opening of the window itself follows soon
after). One Healeress seems to be busying herself in the earlier hours; perhaps
trying to get the work done before the heat settles in... It is, of course,
Megan Tasselberry-Thatcher; frown of concentraition on her face as she begins
to stack jars and arrange herbs in the cupboards.

Well, the curtain to the outer room /was/ drawn back. There is the sound of a
door opening, a few grunting breaths followed by shuffling footsteps ... and a
moment later old Hugh Bramblefleece blocks the doorway to the Infirmary, his
staff firmly gripped in his good left hand, and a scowl on what can be seen of
his face - for somehow the old man has managed to walk into the tied-back
curtain, releasing its folds. And of course his right shoulder is
bandage-wrapped and he can't raise his right hand to push it away.

"Mmmph ... emmmph ..." Spitting felt away, Hugh announces loudly (and blindly),
"Need ta see a healer. Bandaging hurts, feels much too tight. I reckon it's
high time it were changed." Then, a little less testily and more plaintively,
"Anyone there?"

At the first sounds of Hugh's entrance, Megan emits a startled yelp-
bunch of herbs falling from her hand and finding the floor moments later-
pollen and the dust of dried leaves flying everywhere. Well, it could have been
worse- she could have been holding a jar...

"Oh! Mr. Bramblefleece!... That you? You suck in the curtains? Be there
in a minute..." Scowling impatiently, she now stoops to pick up what she can of
the herbs, and then moves to help him.

Hugh coughs and splutters, but a moment later he manages to stagger free of the
enveloping curtain, and over towards one of the beds. "That's very kind of ye,
Healer - why, if it isn't Mrs Tasselberry Thatcher! Fancy that! D'ye want me
over here?" He attempts to beam at Megan, only to be overcome by a loud sneeze.
All that pollen must be getting to him.

"There you go, out of the curtain and into the main room," Megan has managed to
find her best patient Healer's voice; perhaps used particularly when dealing
with cranky or stubborn old men (or anyone else who is cranky or stubborn)...
"Aye, it's me; I'm on duty just shortly this mornin', before the mornin' wears
on.." Now she glances around and lowers her voice as one afraid of giving away
a secret: "That's when everyone's wide awake and come up here complainin' about
this or that.. 's Mostly ol--" She pauses, regarding Hugh, coughs and covers
herself with a dazzling smile, "That's good, just come and have a sit, and I'll
take a look at that bandage... Bit of allergies have we?" Again that friendly
chit-chat voice.. She certainly sounds like she's going to make an expert
busy-body motherly-type when she gets older...

Hugh sits obediently, dropping his staff with a clatter as he fumbles
left-handed in his pocket for his large spotted handkerchief. "Mostly ol-what?"
he wants to know, then guesses, "ol- olfective or summat? That's the funny word
that healers use when ye get somethin' up yer nose, isn't it?" Maybe he means
'olfactory'? "It must be those plants ye keep usin'." At last the handkerchief
is clutched in his hand, and he blows his nose loudly. "Ah, that's better. Eh
well, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher, if ye could take a look at this bandage I'd be
much obliged. An' how've ye bin keepin' yersel'? I've not seen ye fer a good
long time ..."

"Oh, what? Nothin', it weren't important.." Whatever she was going to say,
Megan seems to have 'forgotten' it..."Why, of course I'll take a look- that's
what I'm here for, aint it?" Another dazzling smile, and the Breegirl sets to
work- carefully unwrapping and removing the bandage from his shoulder- chatting
all the while. She seems to be getting quite adept at multi-tasking... "Oh..
I've, well I've been well. Just a bit busy up here- must have been on at
different times to what you were in," Or awake..."Been down on Miss Ivyleaf's
farm every now and then- grapes are comin' on nicely... Looks like you're
healin' up nicely anyway. Last time I saw you, you were still sickly and in bed
as it were... 'least you're up and walkin'.. maybe my tea helped some? Just
hold still now..."

As Megan chatters on, old Hugh's eyes close, perhaps in recollection. "Maybe
yer tea did help," he admits after a bit, "...but I still say it tasted funny."
He grunts stubbornly. "Didn't dare leave the Healin' House at first, in case
that Saevern fellow paid a call, but then after speakin' ta the- ouch! Mind
what yer doin' there." He yelps as Megan's fingers touch a tender spot, for
although the injury is indeed healing well, it's still surrounded by a mass of
dark-and-yellow bruising.

"That's good," Chirps Megan, disregarding his slight complaing on the taste...
"Saevern? Can't say I know him personally.. Speakin' to the Healers? Aye, We do
try to help- listen and all that. Part of the job too and...Oh, sorry..."
Certainlly, for all the listening Megan must be doing she doesn't seem to be
taking very much in. Fingers pause after that tender spot, and then the bandage
is removed, and very carefully she surveys it, they places her hand gently
over- perhaps feeling for head.. "Good, looking good- still bruising, yes, but
it's certainlly faring better..I'll change this bandage for you then,"

"Ohhh," groans Hugh as Megan touches the injured area again. He tries to twist
his head round to the side so that he can look at the damage himself, then
stops abruptly, muttering, "I never was one for blood and the like," and his
features are suddenly a shade paler. "But if yer bandagin' will help fix it,
then thank ye kindly."

He swallows, and, perhaps to divert himself, starts talking again. "What d'ye
mean, ye don't know Saevern? I told ye when they brought me in ..." he lowers
his voice, and then adds very softly, "Him. With the metal weskit." Another
swallow, and then he admits, "I did tell one other fellow about what happened.
Very insistent, he were, an' the words tumbled out afore I could help meself.
Ye don't think I've done wrong?" Sudden anxiety replaces the scowl of pain and
concentration.

"Just keep still, I know it's a bit tender but I've got to check it..." A
pause, as she takes another look before shaking her head lightly to Hugh, "Aint
no blood, Mr. Bramblefleece.. 's all under the skin, so you don't need to
worry." Of course, this is certainly meant to help- the idea of the blood under
the black and yellow-stained skin... certainly a pleasent image for /anyone/
squeamish...

Now she bustles (Shock horror! Megan has begun to develop the typical
Healer's bustle!!!) over to the counter with the herbs and jars of things..
"Have they been puttin' herbs on there, Mr. Bramblefleece, or just bandages?
And, oh! Him, well I aint heard his name before now.. and, well not at all-
don't reckon you've done anythin' wrong. He's a Breeguard aint he, else you
wouldna told him.. He'll sort that Sevfern fellow out..." Yes, certainly Megan
has developed a nack for /not-quite-listening/...

Hugh's complexion is now a delicate shade of grey. Whether that's the thought
of blood swilling around 'under the skin' or that final remark about the
Breeguard is hard to tell, but the old man /really/ doesn't look too well all
of a sudden. "Don't know what they were usin'," he manages to mumble
eventually, in response to Megan's question. "Some greeny paste stuff." Which
is another unpleasant thought .... breathe in, breathe out ... breathe in,
breathe out. Only then does he regain enough composure to ask, frustration
compounding the panic of being in the Healers' hands, "Mrs
Tasselberry-Thatcher, are ye actually listenin' to a thing I'm sayin'?"

"Greeny... Oh! Here we go, 's all made up ready.. they must have know you would
be comin' in some time.." Of else they just knew Megan would be on duty that
morning and wanted to take no changed.. "Just got to add a bit of water.. I
think..." More reassurance for a frightened old man... She moves to the kettle-
testing it for warmth, and then carries it back to the ceramic bowl, in which
sits a pile of ground up herbs, ready to be turned into paste... Vigorously she
begins to stir- green paste splattering in all directions. Despite the
professional tone and bustle she seems to have adopted, not much seems to have
been learnt yet. "Of course I'm listenin'! I heard what you just asked now,
didn't I? And about the greeny paste? Now.. if you en't careful Mr.
Bramblefleece," And this is supposed to sound mock-threatening, "I'll slip
somethin' into this paste here what'll make your shoulder even worser! So, stop
doubtin' me about my listenin!"

"Oh, don't ye be doin' that!" Hugh seems to take the mock threat seriously, for
he hangs his head quite contritely. "I'll be careful, I'll do whatever ye say
... within reason, of course." With his downcast posture he can't even see
Megan spraying the paste around - probably just as well. "It's just ... it
weren't a Breeguard I told about that ruffian Saevern," he admits at last,
without looking up. "It were this tall feller, one of 'em with dark hair an'
grey eyes - at first I thought he were in league with that Saevern, an' I said
a few things I shouldn't, an' then ... he tricked me, that must've been it," he
claims suddenly. Not as though Hugh would just have blabbed out the whole tale
...

Over skips Megan, bright smile on her face, "I wouldn't do that, Mr.
Bramblefleece! No worries now. Just hold this and stir a minute." Of course,
any adept healer would be able to stir and..well, skip back to the cupboard and
retrieve some fresh bandages all on their own, but she has decided that it will
be a good idea to have some patient participation, maybe... "Oh, not a
Breeguard? Oh! Like a ranger? A foreigner?" There's that dreaded word...
"Tricked you? Well, that's no good. Maybe he /was/ in league with him.." Eyes
widen now, as she bustles back- white bandages all folded neatly in her hands.
"Imagine that! Oh! We'd have to hide you, Mr. Bramblefleece.. In... In.. "Those
wide brown eyes glance about with a sense of urgency.. "In.. In the cellar of
the Prancing Pony! And, we'd have to knock, like this..." she stomps a pattern
into the floor, "So you'd know it were us, and you could unlock the door for us
to bring down your food... and, and you wouldn't be able to have a fire, incase
they knew you was down there, and, and maybe we'd have to block everyone from
comin' in the Prancin' Pony, if that Saevern fellow came and tried to get to
you..." A pause as she breathes in this fantasy.. Perhaps the paste-fumes were
intoxicating...

Hugh stares miserably up at Megan. There she is, thrusting the bowl at him ...
slowly, stiffly, his right hand uncurls enough to crook round the bowl, while
his good left one makes a few half-hearted stirring motion. By the time she's
come back he's blinking woozily (and her stamping doesn't help). "Hide me - in
the Pony? How could ye manage that? Sure, everyone in town visits the Pony -
even if Betsy's bin spreadin' some daft tales about their food lately. Don't
know what's got into the child, Barliman would never hold with such a thing.
Unless ... unless ... he's not gone an' got himself a new cook lately, has he?"
The fear of being kept pent-up in the Prancing Pony and having to dine on
suspect food must be a real one, for Hugh mutters, head lolling slightly, "I
ain't eatin' any rats! Even if that Saevern's lookin' fer me."

"Well, not in the Pony exactly. In the cellar, silly. That's under-ground,
doncha know.." A pause, as she moves to snatch the bowl back off the man.
"Thank-you Mr. Bramblefleece, that's mighty helpful of you. I'm just goin' to
spread it on there now and... Oh, yes I heard all about that, but we'd check
your food- make sure there en't rats or kittens.. D'you think it's true? I
mean, maybe Betsy /saw/ somethin'.. But I aint heard anythin' about a new cook
or anythin'... But we wouldn't let you eat rats.. " And now a new thought
crosses her mind as she begins to (rather absent-mindedly) spread paste over
Hugh's shoulder, "Although... It /would/ give me somethin' more to work on... I
mean, rats can't be all that healthy, right? I'd have to heal you up- give me
s'more practice...."

Early morning in Bree (another fine one, though the humid air fortells rain to
come), and in the Infirmary of the Healers House the apprentice healer Megan is
tending to a rather worried-looking elderly patient.

At Megan's final words Hugh shudders slightly, and lets out a moan. "No ... no,
don't do that," he begs, his features still tinted a rather odd greyish shade.
"Please don't make an old man ill just so's ye can have some healin' practise.
I mean - there must be a better way ..." He twitches as Megan starts to spread
the paste on his shoulder, but after a moment he murmurs, "Ahh, that's better.
Sort o' coolin' - me head feels all light, though. Funny thing, I don't
remember feelin' that way before ..." Has the girl actually got the ingredients
right?

Megan looks straight at Hugh, as if making sure his begging and pleading was
all totally sincere... Then, she laughs out loud and for some moments, as one
having just been told a joke, or funny story.. "Oh, don't be silly. I wouldn't
do that! But I was just sayin', if Mr. Barliman /did/ serve you rats and
poison, then.. well I'd be able to heal you, you know. Don't need to worry
about a thing. No worries!..." She giggles, spreading away happily, now
beginning to hum as she goes. "'s better isn't it? Healers just set it up for
me, which was nice of them and.. oh.. then I have to.. hm.. bandages..." Now
getting to the bottom of the little ceramic bowl, she begins to panic at the
thought of having to deal with bandages...

"Bandages ... that's right, that's why I took mesel' up here ..." Poor Hugh
seems to be having a little trouble remembering right now. "They was too tight,
before - ye'll do 'em nice an' loose, won't ye? Pretty white bandages, jist
like ribbons." He blinks slowly, swaying.

A giggle errupts from the girl as she looks at Hugh, and she giggles so hard
that she snorts and loses all strength in her hands and arms. The ceramic bowl
goes tumbling to the floor- landing a moment later with a sharp crack and
splitting into several pieces on the floor... This, of course, causes her more
laughter, though it takes her some time to find focus on the task before her...
"Bandages... Ribbons?! White ribbons.. like... bandages, and.. Oh dear, my head
is runnin' around in circles... and... loose? If you want it loose I'lll...
Hang on..." Now the bandages are picked up, and she seems to be struggling to
sharpen her vision... "Alright.. I think we put them on like this..." She sets
about her work- trying to tie the bandages, in her state, and be gentle at the
same time..

Hugh's head is lolling by now, and it takes a full five seconds before he
reacts to the dropped bowl with a twitch. "It fell - fancy that," he mumbles,
gazing in wonder, and then bringing his blank gaze up to focus on Megan's
features. "You've got ta make 'em pretty - an' then when yer finished I can tie
some of 'em on you." He beams happily up at her, and only when her fingers
inadvertently touch a sore spot does he let out a startled yelp, much like a
dog when one treads on its tail.

"I know! I'm goin' to be in /so/ much trouble!" Megan giggles- nudging the bowl
under the bed. She is unstead on her feet as it is, and this certainly doesn't
help matters... "Make them pretty like ribbons, I know, I know... I.. I,
wait...I don't need them, I aint got bloodundermyskin and all yellow and
black's yours is like that..." Another finger pokes lightly at his bruising,
though at his yelp, she too yelps, and springs backwards in shock.. Then she
bursts into giggles again. "I thought you were stung by a bee, Mr
Bramblefleece! It sounded like you was, it did... stay, very, still... I only
tied bandages fife times now...Stay still." And she wanders her way forward and
starts at her work again. "Over... Under... Under... around... and... up!
Down... and under... 's feelin' better?"

Hugh freezes - or tries too, judging by the stiffening in his muscles.
Unfortunately it does little to halt the back-and-forward swaying motion that
he's performing. "All yellow an' black ... like a bee ... I ain't no bee!"
Quite indignant he sounds. "Feelin' much better, much much better ... think
I'll just take a li'l nap." His head's already nodding, but then he jerks it up
again, mumbling, "Got ta tie you up first though. One good turn deserves
another ..."

Giggling still, Megan shakes her head- curls bouncing in all direction like a
crazy blur of brown movement. "I didn't say /you/ was a bee! But look! All
bandaged up; pretty like you asked. Crissy-crossed across and across and around
just like that..." Arms are flailing in all directions- more crazy motion blurs
before Megan's eyes. "I'm feelin' better too!" She gasps (they have something
in common!!!) "But.. I... I don't need... Bandages...maybe here, on my arm
then.. where the cows... and.. all the... here, look.." she bears her arm- long
scar running from below her shoulder to inside her elbow... "Maybe I think...
here," she hands him a flourish of bandages, with a giggle; ready to be
operated on...

Megan tends to the injuries on Hugh.
HEALING: Megan attempts to treat your wounds...

Hugh tries and fails to track Megan's wild arm-waving motion with his head.
"Stoppit, yer makin' me dizzy," the old fellow murmurs, before twisting his
head part-way to look at Megan's handiwork. "Very pretty," he proclaims happily
at last, reaching for a bandage, then- "I can't move me arm!" Well, that was
presumably the point. But Hugh looks quite crestfallen now as he stares at a
long strip of bandage. "Mebbe I can jist twist it around an' tuck it in?" He
peers interestedly at the long scar, murmuring hopefully, "So that's what a
cow's teethmarks is like?" before falling silent to concentrate on trying to
wind the bandage round Megan's slender arm. Without much success, it has to be
said - it keeps coming undone.

"You en't meant to move your arm! It's all broken up, remember!?" Well, maybe
not broken up, but how can she possibly remember what's /really/ happened? "I
can tuck it in, I can do it! I'm the healer, remember!?" Megan snaps- moving to
tuck in some lose edges of the bandage for him... "Cows... cows... they... Oh!
Yes! And rocks! Rock teeth! And my brothers have ones too: different ones...
not quite the same, but... what... uhm.. different!" Now she watches- as a
teacher would watch their student.. "Round... You're doing it all wrong! Make
it go round, and hold... no, hold it there! Like, gah! Just hold it there! I'll
do it myself!" And she moves to snatch the bandage off him and wrap up her own
arm.

Hugh freezes as Megan snaps at him. "I was only tryin' ta help," he tells her
plaintively. "An' I can't get a grip on the darned thing with jist one hand ...
one ... gettin' sleepy now," he adds as an afterthought. "Tell ye what, Mrs
Tassler, ye can tie the bandage an' I'll just have a li'l ... li'l nap."

Releasing his grip on the streamer of white suddenly, he yawns widely, lowers
himself back onto the bed and closes his eyes. Soon his lips are vibrating and
a gentle snoring is emanating from his prone form.

"Fine, I'll do it myself. It's easy." And, taking the bandage, she moves around
and to another bed, and there sits herself carefully- tying with such
concentration that one would think (watching her) that it was a life or death
matter- that, if she didn't tie the bandage perfectly, she would die from blood
loss at any moment!!! Thankfully, she manages to tie it (although, basically
she's thrown the bandage tail around her arm a few times- knotted it here and
tehre and left it generally a mess) and then, laying back on the bed- she
admires her handiwork. "See. that's how you.." She too opens her mouth wide and
yawns- eyes sliding closed.. Then... after a few moments of tense silence, she
too, is asleep.