Logs-Healer at Work

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.

Obvious exits:
Curtain to Main Room

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Feb 26 02:08:56 2004
Bree time: Dawn <6:26 AM> on Highday of Summer - July 13,1431
Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous Moon

Breelands Weather
The dawn summer air is very hot and dry around you. The sky is clear and the
sunlight shines brightly.
===============================================================================

Once again Bree is blessed with another bright and sunny day. The birds are
singing, and the shutters in the Infirmary have been draw back to allow the
fresh air in to speed patients' healing. On such a day you'd think anyone
would be happy.
But not the old man in the corner bed, it seems. Hugh is lying in one of the
cots, dressed in a striped nightgown, his face still pale and his right
shoulder bulky with bandages. Now his eyes snap open, and he barks out
wildly, "What? Where? ... Oh." His head falls back to the pillow with a
groan, and he mutters sourly, "Light's too bright. Place is too musty." Some
things never change, Hugh's ability to complain amongst them.

From behind the curtain comes the sounds of shuffling, then sorting through of
various jars and mugs, and then the sound of a cheery voice adressing
another- though quietly, as if afraid to wake any that sleep on the other
side of the curtain- for, it would provide some kind of sound barrier,
certainly..? Moments later and the voices die off, and then, suddenly!
Megan's head appears from the other side of the curtain- eyes widening as the
espy Hugh on the bed. "So, it was true!" she gasps- now pushing the curtain
aside and striding forward- looking rather professional about the whole
affair. "G'mornin' Mr. Bramblefleece..." she says, chirpily.. though, her
eyes travel to his shoulder and she bites her lip, "How're you feelin'?" she
asks warily- eyes full of concern.

Hugh's eyes flutter slowly open again, and he gives a groan (you'd almost think
he was putting it on, just a little bit). "Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher," he
identifies the woman before him. "What are ye doin' here?" Seems his mind is
wandering a little bit. "Ehhh ... I feel rotten," he claims. "Right rotten.
Head hurts, shoulder hurts ... don't think 'em healers have bin lookin' after
it right. What time is it anyway?" he demands suddenly, the 'feeble' act
slipping just a bit.

Perhaps young Megan is in a sympathetic mood this morning, for she certainly
falls for Hugh's act. "Ohh! Poor Mr. Bramblefleece!" She mutters, moving to
straighten his blankets; fluff his pillows.. inspect his shoulder.. "I'm a
healer, remember? Oh, you poor thing, you look like you've.." Apparently
Megan can find no words to describe Hugh's current condition, or his
complexion, and so quickly changes the subject.. "You don't think so? Maybe I
can help.. What've you had so far? And, it's morning.."

"Ye are?" Hugh blinks up at Megan. "Then ye should make 'em treat me better!
Instead of wrappin' me up like a bit o' baggage an' then leaving me. They
made me drink some stuff, put me ta sleep, it did!" He sounds quite
indignant. "Heads all fuzzy now. An' it's mornin' of which day? Jist how long
have I bin here?" He moves as though trying to sit up, and lets out a sudden
groan of pain, his pale features blanching a little more. Or perhaps it's not
just a groan of pain ... "Have I had any ... any visitors?" he asks now, his
voice dropping from loud querulous complaint to a mere thread of a whisper,
and his brown eyes filled with panic.

Megan nods sincerely, pulling up a chair so she can sit herself at Hugh's side.
"I'm sure they've done all they can, Mr. Bramblefleece.. But, well, I suppose
I can see what else I can do... I en't the best at all this yet.." she says,
uncertainly glancing across to the other side of the room; biting down on her
lip momentarily.. "The thirteenth, it is.. and, don't move, Mr.
Bramblefleece, just lay still now...Visitors?" Now her tone is suspicious as
she regards the sudden change in him; one eyebrow raising as she glances over
her shoulder again.. "Why.. I don't think so.. they didn't tell me you had,
and I en't seen anyone around.. Why? What's the matter? I heard plenty of
things, but I don't know which of them is true.."

Hugh is still looking exceedingly nervous. "Mebbe ... mebbe ye can get me
summat ta dull the pain without makin' me sleep again?" he asks the seated
Megan, voice cracking at the plea. "Everythin' hurts right bad. An' I don't
want ta sleep again, in case he comes lookin' - wait, didn't say that!" He
shifts position again in his panic, and for a moment the speech is replaced
by a groan. "He-" his lips are moving, but Megan will need to lean close to
hear the words, "he said he'd kill me if I said anythin'!"

"I can," Megan assures- thoughts circling her head now- strained thoughts of
one who hasn't quite finished learning her trade, yet... "I don't know
exactly what's wrong with you, though.. Have the other healers told you
what's exactly happened to your shoulder there? Maybe I can make you up a
nice tea, and somethin' to put under them bandages there, too..." she
suggests- talking more to herself than to Hugh..

Of course, curiosity causes her to press the matter of 'him' further, despite
the obvious effect it's having on the man.. "He won't know you told me, I
promise.. I en't goin' to go find him- whoever he is and tell him anythin'..
and, if 'he's' goin' around doin' this to folks, I reckon it's better if we
know, so we can do somethin' about it! We'll, we'll even hide you away, if we
have to! So he can't hurt you again!"

Hugh closes his eyes for a moment, as though trying to think. "Healers said-
eh, I wasn't listening right to what they said," he admits. "Shoulder was
hurtin' bad, and they were pushin' an' pullin' and stuff ... said somethin'
about cracks I think? Then I complained an' they gave me the tea ..."
Probably to stop him ruining their work.

The other subject is addressed with trepidation. "But if I tell ye ... an' if
he finds out I telt ye .. then he could come after ye as well." Poor old Hugh
looks increasingly agitated at the dilemma.

"Hmmm..." Megan sounds thoughtful as she taps the tips of her fingers against
the bedside. "Cracks?" Brows furrow in concentraition.. "What about
Arfandas..? There were a lady in here a while ago that were injured, but she
knew all about healin' and made me fetch her a drink with these yellow
flowers in.. Maybe I should get some of that.." Already she has begun to
rise- though not before she has replied about 'that man' again...

"I'll tell you somethin', Mr. Bramblefleece. I en't afraid of him! I were out
by the Chetwood the other night, and there were someone out there and I hid
behind the tree and.. well, I think.. well, I think there were somethin' out
there that wasn't human, or antyhin' like I've seen.. more like them things
you hear about sometimes.. only, it were dark, and I didn't see.. and then, a
Giant Eagle- like the one I told you about once before, he came down, and
then he picked me up and carried me home, and all the while I were only a
little afraid, and if I en't goin' to be afeared of them, I en't goin' to be
afeared of some trouble makin' Breefolk!"... Perhaps realising she's said
what she probably shouldn't have said- she makes her way quickly to the back
of the room- searching for the afformeantioned plant..

Hugh listens to Megan's words, but when she mentions a giant eagle, he mutters
indignantly, "I ain't all /that/ ill. Ye don't need ta tell me stories." His
voice follows Megan as she moves across the room in search of herbs, then he
subsides back into muttering. "Should I tell? Or shouldn't I? Eh, it was like
this ..." Clearly he's rehearsing his story ready to repeat it when Megan's
back within earshot of a whisper.

Now picking up a kettle and pouring water into a mug, Megan frowns downward-
her back toward Hugh.. "It weren't a story, mr. Bramblefleece; it were the
truth." she says, though she doesn't try and defend the tale- after all, she
wasn't meant to talk about it in the first place.. Several yellow flowers are
dropped into the water, and enthusiastically she stirs it. "Well you should,
Mr. Bramblefleece, unless you want this to just keep happening over and over
again!" she says, now carrying the steaming mug back and holding it out to
the man. "Careful; it's hot, and it won't taste very nice, but it will help
with the pain, and shouldn't make you sleepy..."

Hugh breathes deeply as the scent from the steaming mug reaches him, and then
looks up at Megan. "Can ye give me a hand, mebbe?" he asks her now. "Other
arm's still feelin' a bit weak, I was all shook up ye know." Perhaps he's
merely seeking to draw Megan closer so that she can hear his next words,
uttered at a level that is barely more than a whisper. "It was him. That
funny-lookin' feller with the metal under his shirt. First o' all he grabbed
me, hauled me off an' said he was takin' me fer a walk. I tried to push him
off wi' the staff, but then - then he brought out that axe. An' I was too
scared not ta do what he says." He pauses for breath and to take a sip from
the mug.

A hand is offered to Hugh- between juggling the mug and offering to help him
up, she manages to not spill a drop, though the flowers swirl around madly
inside now.. Cautiously she glances around, her breath drawn in so she can
better listen. "No!" she gasps; not in defense, but in shock of hearing that
it wasn't a trouble making Breefolk after all. "Oh, my.. that's terrible! He
didn't.. with his axe, did he? Oh, I can see why you're shaken up, Mr.
Bramblefleece..." she says; voice laced with sympathy..

"Ugggh!" Hugh, raised to a half-sitting position with Megan's help, gags at
that first mouthful of the yellowish tea, and demands loudly, "Ye sure this
stuff is good for a body? Looks a funny colour ta me." Nevertheless, he
screws up his face and takes another few gulps before he goes on with the
tale, still in that near-whisper.

"After that he made me go out through the gates, an' then he says," the old
man's brows wrinkle as he continues, "'it'd be smart for you to talk more
nicely with your friends about me than you have been'. An' he asks me fer
money, but I ain't got any, it bein' first thing in the mornin' an' all. Then
he hit me with the axe." Only the blunt side - but saying that would spoil a
good story, wouldn't it?

Now that he's got things off his chest, Hugh looks momentarily relieved, and
then the reality of what he's just done hits him. "Ye won't tell another
soul, will ye?" he begs Megan earnestly. "He said I wasn't ta talk about it,
an' if he got word ..." He makes a peculiar noise in his throat.

"There you go, Mr. Bramblefleece, nice and easy just like that...Nothin'
hurting too much by sittin' up?" Megan questions- looking him over quickly.
Yes, she seems to have certainly taken to this whole healer job very
seriously. "I know it tastes terrible, but it'll help.. 's just the flowers
what've made it go that colour..." she reassures; her voice calm and smoothe-
manufactured for patients here, perhaps.

"Oh! He hit you?!" Eyes are widened, and already a plan is being formed. She
would tell all the Breeguards! All the Rangers! Everyone she knew that would
help. Perhaps she was a little scared, afterall... "Oh.. I.. won't, Mr.
Bramblefleece.. We won't let any harm come to you.. drink up, now..."

Hugh pokes his nose into the mug again, to swallow some more of the
vile-tasting liquid, and has to come up for air again soon. "Are ye sure ..."
he pauses, giving Megan a worried look, "that somethin's not been ..eh, doin'
its business on 'em flowers? It really don't taste too good."

Which perhaps might be one reason for his fearful expression. The other reason,
only Megan can know. "I hope ye won't do anythin' stupid now?" he begs. "Ye
know that yer Andrick an' I were trying ta get folk together, so's we could
ask that foreign feller ta leave - I reckon he got word o' it an' this is his
way o' tellin' us." He's quivering where he sits now, whether with terror or
simply the effort of sitting up is hard to say. "Shoulder's still hurtin',"
he complains dully. "Think I oughter lie down again ..."

Brows are furrowed, and it seems Megan's mood has finally changed. "Fine, then.
You don't have to drink it and get better if you don't want to. I'll leave
you to the other healers; you thought they were doin' such a good job of
you." She reaches out to snatch the mug away from him.

"I won't do anythin' stupid." the Breegirl snaps- as if the very idea of her
doing something stupid, ever ,was inconcievable.."You go back to sleep. Maybe
someone else will come and give you something different, later." Clearly not
impressed that he didn't like her drink, she now stands and strides back to
where the kettle and clippings of herbs are arranged. "You have a good sleep,
Mr. Bramblefleece. Maybe I'll come to visit." and she makes for the curtain.

When Megan snatches away the mug she'll find that Hugh has, indeed, drunk most
of it, despite his words. And now he lowers himself gingerly down to the
pillow. "Eh, thank ye, Mrs Tasselberry," he's responding (old habits die
hard), and then he remembers. "But I don't want ta sleep! His eyes open
unnaturally wide for a moment, but then little by little they start to droop
again. "Mustn't sleep ... but mebbe just a little nap," he mumbles as he
sinks back into the bedclothes, eyes closing once more. As Megan bustles away
to continue her duties, it's likely that she'll pick up the faint sound of
snoring.