Logs-Feeding the Sick

Bree's Healing House - Front Yard
In front of the healing house is a narrow cobble stone walkway that wends its
way from Broadway to the double front door of Bree's Healing House. On one
side of the path is a yard filled with lush green grass and a rambling rose
garden. On the other side are neat rows of medical herbs, each one clearly
labeled with a little sign. Along the cobble stone path are two benchs for
guests to sit upon. One is human sized and the other the right height for
hobbits. On the front of the Healing House is a small brass plaque that
reads: "HEALING HOUSE OF BREE - NO WEAPONS ALLOWED". This is an exception to
Bree officials of course!

Just to one side of the house, you see a small shed with a swinging front door.
It is just big enough to serve as a stable for the healers of the house.

Obvious exits:
Healing House and Out

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Dec 18 01:45:20 2003
Bree time: Early Afternoon <about 2 PM> on Trewsday of Winter - December 21,1430
Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous Moon

Breelands Weather
The early afternoon winter air is cold and dry around you. The day sky still
dumps copious amounts of rain down upon you.
===============================================================================

Afternoon, and a sleety rain falls from the leaden sky above. Not the most
pleasant weather to be out in - but one little figure, hood pulled up over
her head and a covered wicker basket on one arm, seems to be enjoying the day
despite that. Betsy skips between the puddles, in what's clearly some kind of
game, giggling every time her feet make a splash.

Her eager steps pause before the Healing House, and a moment later she's
entering the yard, pausing to sniff as the aroma of rain-drenched herbs
reaches her nostrils. "What a funny smell!" she murmurs aloud. "I wonder what
it is ..." With that she steps off the path and onto the muddy earth.

From inside the Healing House comes the sound of violent coughing; harsh and
similiar to a barking, and then a moment later, the door is pulled open and
Megan steps out, hood drawn over her head and she only pauses once to glance
out around the garden- eyes bleary and ringed with a faint black tinge. She
seems to almost let out a whimper as she looks out into the sleet- but
drawing her cloak further around herself she prepares to step out- overcome
with another bout of coughing briefly, before she closes the door and places
one foot upon the path- lowering her head and thus- not yet noticing the girl
in the herb garden.

"Is it this one?" The little girl bends down to peer at the sign in front of
one tall, bedraggled-looking plant. "W-o-u-n- eeew. It really does stink!" At
that moment the sound of coughing reaches her ears, and she turns, peering
bright-eyed through the rain. "You really shouldn't be out in the rain if
you're not well, you know," she announces to the cloaked woman. "That's what
Mama's always saying. She never lets me out when I've got a cold" And then
something about the miserable-looking figure she's looking at catches her
attention. "Megan?" She doesn't sound too sure of that, but nonetheless she
runs towards the coughing woman, leaving a trail of small footprints
stretching across the flowerbeds.

At the sound of the voice, Megan looks up again, closing her eyes a moment- a
shudder passing over her body as she supresses another attack. "I know, but I
have to get home.. and.." now she sneezes, quite loudly- the force of the
thing looking like it's about to knock her off her feet. "Hm.. Yes, it's
Megan.. I can't see you all too well- don't know exactly who you are,
sorry..." Megan says- most of the bright spark and excitement gone from her
voice, something of weariness in its place.

Betsy halts in her tracks, mouth open. "You don't know who I am? But-" her
bottom lip begins to wobble, "but you know me. I'm Betsy!" She regards Megan
quizzically, then suggests helpfully, "Maybe you've lost your memory? I've
heard that happens to people when they get hit on the head sometimes. Did you
get hit on the head while you were away from Bree? Was it bandits?" As this
eager flood of questions pours forth, she wanders forward till she's standing
directly below the weary woman. "Maybe you should go back in there and sit
down," she suggests at last, waiting to see how that suggestion is received.

Now Megan peers down at the girl, as if trying to see through a fog that's over
her eyes. "Betsy?! Why of course I remember you- I just couldn't see you
there! It's all this rain, and I'm feeling ghastly... and no, I didn't get
hit on the head- I was in the Shire, there was no bandits in the Shire...Just
hobbits." Megan explains, taking a half-step back toward the doorway, as if
wanting to retreat from the rain. At Betsy's suggestion, Megan looks
longingly down the street, then sighs. "I suppose I probably should.. wait
for Andrick to come back at last..."

"I can help you." Betsy beams eagerly up at Megan, and the hand that's not
holding the basket reaches up to tug at her cloak. "I'm very good at helping
- I'm helping Mama by collecting the medicine for granda's rheumatics, you
know." Her chin rises with pride as she declares this important errand. "She
wasn't feeling well today. Everyone seems to be getting sick." She pauses for
breath, then comes out with another question: "Why are you waiting for
Andrick?"

"Help me?" It appaears Megan is slightly confused- was she going to be helped
getting home, or getting inside, or getting better? Now at the tug, Megan
shrugs her shoulders lightly. "You can help, if you want- it does sound like
you're a very good helper.." Megan says with a gentle smile, and using that
voice that people put on when talking to children. "I know- Mr. Thistlewool
was sick, I only hope I'm not going to make Andrick or you sick too... The
whole of Bree will be falling ill at this rate and.. oh, I'm waiting for him
acause he's.. well, he's my husband.." Megan scrunches up her nose at the
last word- perhaps she wasn't all to fond of it.

"I've been sick," Betsy announces proudly. "But that was /weeks/ ago. I'm
better now." The pride fades to be replaced by a round 'o' of astonishment as
Megan continues. "Andrick's your husband? But - he's an old man! Almost as
old as daddy. You can't be married to him!" Her little brows knit as she
struggles with the concept, then she announces, "I don't want to get married.
It sounds boring. Anyway, aren't you coming back inside? You're supposed to
stay dry and warm and ... stuff like that. Mama made me stay in /bed/ when I
was ill." She gives Megan another tug, and this time it's clear she's trying
to drag the woman back into the Healing Houses.

"I've been sick too- but not like this," Megan comments, as if trying to out-do
the little girl. Then, Megan nods her head lightly. "Yes, he's my husband,
and he's not that old- he's only 34..And I can be married to him, because I
am." At this, Megan thrusts out her finger to show the ring- joining in the
childishness of it all. "See- he got me this for my birthday when he proposed
to me! And it's not boring at all, it's amazing! You'll be in love one day,
Betsy. Then you'll see." From all the childishness of before, she suddenly
takes on a more mature tone, giving a sharp little nod. "I suppose I should
go inside, it /is/ raining out here.." and, finally she succumbs to the
tugging, and follows along behind the girl.

You enter into the main building of the Healing House.

Healing House - Main Room(#19284RLan)

The main room of Bree's Healing House serves as a living area for the healers
that live here. All of the colors of the furniture, rugs and walls are in
earthtones. Terracotta reds, browns and soft greens. There is a calming
effect here, promoting a sense of peace and wellness. To the right is a large
hearth where a cozy fire crackles and a pot of comfort food can usually be
found. In front of it is an overstuffed couch that is large enough for human
guests, but not too imposing in size for hobbits. Near the hearth is a
cupboard of cooking utensils, pots and pans, plates and cups and the usual
tea things. A small table with chairs can be found here as well as a large
cabinet of drawers to store medicines. Overhead in the rafters, bunches of
herb bundles can be seen as they hang to dry.

The back of the room has been set aside for the apprentice healers. Partitioned
off are three little areas each complete with a cot, clothes press and a
trunk for personal items. To the left you see a wooden door and an arch with
a curtain across it. The arch leads into the infirmary and the door to the
senior healer's private room.

Obvious exits:
Healer's Room, Curtain to Infirmary, and Front Yard

"Thirtyfour?" Betsy sound completely appalled, but her head tilts as she
dutifully inspects Megan's ring, and she announces at last, "It's pretty. I
like it." Further conversation ceases until they're inside and out of the
rain; at that point the child lets out an exaggerated sigh and announces,
"Ah, that's much better. I was getting all wet out there." She shrugs out of
her cloak and lets it fall in a heap on the floor, before instructing Megan,
"You should take off your cloak too, and go sit by the fire." And she can't
resist adding one last comment on marriage: "Do you have to do lots of
cooking and cleaning and boring things like that now you're married? Can't
you come and play with me any more?" She sounds quite melancholy.

Megan nods her head slightly at the question, then smiles warmly at Betsy's
approval. "I like it, too." Now inside, Megan looks about and gives another
quiet sigh- which, in turn, spouts off another violent bout of coughing. Once
this has finished, Megan is left with tears in her eyes- one hand holding her
throat. Now, very slowly, and very carefully she removes her own cloak and
hangs it by the door- following the child's instructions to go sit on the
sofa by the fire- despite how foolish she feels following orders from a
child. "Not too much. Andrick can cook too.. he made me a stew, to help me
get better.. and besides, before I married him I lived alone, so I had to do
a lot of cooking and cleaning anyway... and Of course I can still come out
and play with you!!"

Betsy's little face brightens at that final statement. "That's good. I /missed/
you, when you went away! I'm glad you've come back." She tracks over to the
fire to stand before Megan's sofa, leaving her cloak and her basket as
obstacles to trip the next unwary person to enter the House, and places her
hands on her hips (just like Mama?) as she regards the ill-looking woman.
"You know, I don't think Andrick can be a very good cook," she remarks after
a pause. "Because you don't look like you're getting better after eating his
stew." She chews her lower lip thoughtfully, then points to the pot simmering
on the hearth. "Was it that stew? Cos maybe you just didn't eat enough - I
can bring you another bowl." Already she's poised on the balls of her feet,
ready to dart off.

Megan's face soften's at Betsy's words- "Oh- I missed you too, Betsy! I reckon
you'd have liked the Shire! So much good food and hobbits all over, and it's
the prettiest little place..Well, it's much bigger than Bree, but you'd fit
in there, because everyone always looked at us because we were big.." Megan-
perhaps realising she's rambling, falls silent for a moment, then shakes her
head. "Andrick's a very good cook- he worked at the Pony for a long time, and
his stew was very good.. it's not what made me sick- I was sick before he
gave it to me, and then I got sicker.. " Now she looks over at the fire and
the stew that's there.. "No.. Uhm.. I'm not really very hungry, but thank-you
anyway.."

Betsy listens to Megan's ramblings, and casts a disappointed glance towards the
hearth and the bubbling pot. "But I'd be good at fetching stew - that
kettle's not too big for me, really! Is there something else I can do
instead, then? Maybe I can get lots of blankets and wrap you up." The active
child certainly looks eager to be 'doing' something.

Megan's eyes slide briefly toward the pot and she lets out a defeated sigh.
"Alright, Betsy.. you can get me some stew if you'd like to... and I'd love
some blankets, if you can find any..." she gives the girl and warm smile, and
then is overcome with coughing again.. now, though glazed eyes, she looks to
the child- "You're certainly a helpful girl..."

"Which should I do first?" Without waiting for an answer, Betsy dashes off
towards the hearth, snatching a bowl en route. She stands on tiptoe to lift
out the ladle, and pours splashily, or at least tries to. Most of the
contents of the ladle end up not in the bowl but in the fire, which starts to
hiss and smoke. "Oh," she murmurs as she drops the ladle back in the pot,
cheeks flushed rosy by more than just the hearth. "I didn't know it was so
hard. You don't think the fire will go out now, do you? I'll try again,
anyway" she adds brightly without turning round, reaching for the ladle anew.

Megan watches Betsy and her attempts at filling the bowl- wincing slightly as
more and more stew seems to go into the fire. "Yes, it's a bit difficult...
do you want me to do it while you find some blankets?" There's a hint of
something in her voice that suggests she knows some way of being able to get
out of actually eating the stew..."I don't think the fire will go out.. it
should.. though it might..Try not to spill too much more in there or it might
go out..." Megan warns- watching carefully.

"No, I can do it!" Pride demands that Betsy say that. "I'll be careful, I
promise." This time she pours with exaggerated care, filling the bowl right
to the brim. "See?" She turns and walks back towards Megan, leaving an
intermittent trail of stew across the carpet as she goes. "There, doesn't
that smell good? But I forgot the spoon. I'll go get it right now?" She
thrusts the bowl towards Megan, beaming happily.

Megan watches wearily from her seat on the sofa- a tiny amused smile on her
lips. "Well, that was very well done! Look, it's full and everything and..."
Megan pauses as she announces about the spoon. "Oh- yes, run and get one
then.." Megan coughs once, then three more times- managing to supress what
ever others where threatening to surface. Now she reaches out to take the
bowl, careful not to spill any stew on herself as she does.

"Poor Megan. I do hope you get better soon!" The words are slightly muffled, as
by now Betsy is rummaging in the cutlery drawer. "Got one!" she announces
triumphantly at last, returning to Megan with a big pewter spoon in one hand.
Maybe bigger spoon=more stew eaten=quicker recovery? "Now, you eat that all
up," she instructs, nodding her head for emphasis. Why, playing 'mummy' can
be fun sometimes! At first her intent gaze suggests she plans to watch Megan
swallow every single mouthful, but then she realizes, "I suppose I'd better
go find you some blankets. Where do you think they keep them? Through there?"
She points towards the curtain that leads to the apprentice healers' sleeping
quarters.

Megan smiles gently and nods her head. "So do I..." she replies- watching as
the girl fetches a spoon- eyes widening at the size of it.. "You don't
think.. It's not a bit.." Megan trails off and shrugs slightly- "Nevermind."
Now she takes the spoon and dips it into the stew, for a moment just stirring
it slightly and watching it all move around and around with each stir-
procrastinating from actually eating... "Uhm.. I'm not sure.. I don't think
so.. try in there.." Now Megan points to the curtain to the infirmary.. "But
be careful- there's people sleeping in there, probably..." she warns, looking
over at the curtain cautiously.

Betsy frowns at Megan. "It's not a bit what?" she wonders aloud. "It looks like
nice stew to me. I'd eat it - if I didn't have to fetch those blankets. Don't
worry, I'll be quiet." She steps towards the archway even as she speaks,
pausing with one hand on the curtain to query Megan, "Aren't you hungry?" And
then she's ducked through and into the Infirmary. Her voice cuts off suddenly
...

"Oh? Nothing! It's fine!" Megan says, still stirring the stew. At this rate it
will be cold by the time she actually gets around to eating it. "Well, you
can have what I don't eat- I'm not very hungry so there'll probably be some
left over..." she offers, stirring away. "No, not very.." she says, giving a
gentle smile. "I've lost my appetite, I think.. and I already had some stew
earlier.." Megan now yawns, and leans against the arm of the sofa- coughing
quietly a few times, balancing the bowl on her knee and letting her eyes
slide closed as she waits for Betsy to return.

From behind the curtain, snatches of speech drift. A matronly adult voice
raised in query, and Betsy's piping treble in response: "... looking for
blankets ... nooo, I was sent to fetch some more ointment for granda ... I
was only trying to help! Poor Megan's all alone there." The wise listener
might sense that the child has made a mistake there. A moment later Betsy is
propelled back through the curtain, her shoulder grasped by a buxom
middle-aged woman in a neatly starched apron whose dark hair is pulled back
in a fearsomely tight bun. "We'll have none of that running round disturbing
the patients in /this/ infirmary," the matron tells her sternly, then lifts
her eyes to Megan. "I hope this child hasn't been disturbing you." Her gaze
lights on the trail of stew and the dropped cloak and basket, and she
tut-tuts loudly.

At the snippets of speach, Megan just smiles lightly, her eyes still closed,
the spoon now remaining still in the bowl, her hands cupped about it. It is
only when the woman enters that her eyes flutter open and she looks across
tiredly. "She weren't disturbin'.. just lookin' for blankets.. I went outside
and got cold.. and Betsy took me back inside and went lookin' for my blankets
in there.. she aint disturbing me! Not at all..." Megan sits up wearily,
rubbing her forehead- eyes watery and glazed over. "I can.. I'll clean it up,
if you'd like.." Perhaps this is playing on sympathies, as she is /obviously/
in no condition to do anything of the kind.

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" The matron seems quite incensed at Megan's
suggestion. "I know a sick person when I see one. Bed's the place for you,
Miss- er, Mrs Thatcher." Obviously word of Megan's recent antics has got
around. "We'll have you there right away. Now, /you/ go pick up that basket."
She turns to glare at Betsy.

The poor child can do naught but comply, dragging her feet as she does, but
when the nurse's back is turned to lift down a jar of ointment from the
medicine cabinet, Betsy pulls a face at Megan and mouths the words, 'Mean old
thing!'

Megan practically cringes beneath the matron's gaze, though she's quick enough
to respond with: "Tasselberry-Thatcher, actually." though she's making no
protest to the suggestion of bed, placing the bowl of soup on the seat beside
her and yawning again. At seeing Betsy's words, Megan stiffles a laugh and
nods then mouths, 'I know.' Now she stands, somewhat shakily and begins
edging her way toward the curtain. "Thank-you for your help Betsy.. I might
still be here tomorrow if you want to come visit..."

The matron drops a jar of ointment into Betsy's basket. "Now, you take that
straight home!" she upbraids the child. "And don't waste any more time. I'll
be having a word with your mother ..."
Betsy blanches at that, but ducks her head in a swift nod. "Th-thank you," she
falters under the stony glare, and then dares look past the stout woman to
Megan herself. "Goodbye Megan. Get well soon!" she calls out, raising her
hand in a cheery wave. "I'll be back to see you ..." And with that she's
gone, darting out into the rain and slamming the door behind her before the
matron can see the trampled state of the flowerbeds.
The matron shakes her head at the slam, then crosses with heavy treads to where
Megan stands. "Now, Mrs Thatcher," she begins, pointedly ignoring Megan's
correction. "If you heed my advice, you'll stay in bed for the next week,"
she reaches out ready to take Megan's arm in a vice-like grip and 'steer' her
towards the infirmary. "And /no/ visitors."

Megan smiles gently at Betsy's leaving, raising a hand in farewell, though it's
obvious by the ever-paling colour in her cheeks that all her standing up
isn't doing her an inch of good. "Tasselberry.. it's.. uhm.. It's
Tasselberry-Thatcher..I didn't.. I mean.. nevermind.." Megan has given up,
weariness overcoming her now as she is led toward the infirmary. "No
visitors? What about Andrick?.. I aint gonna remain cooped up there for a
week and not see Andrick!" despite her protests she goes along, though
there's no way they're going to be able to coop her up for a week and forbid
her from seeing anyone.

"No visitors," the matron repeats sternly as she leads Megan behind the
curtain. "Excitement's not good for a sick body. That's what I always tell
'em." Which makes it sound as though ''em' (patients? colleagues?) don't
usually listen, of course. "There we are, here's a nice warm bed. You climb
in and then I'll bring you some poppy-syrup to make you sleep..." She's all
bustling officiousness as she deals with this latest patient. Poor Megan, it
might be a long hard week ...