Laurelindo left Estarfin's rooms as another healer arrived. He went straightaway to replace the stock of rapidly diminishing draughts and salves. However, he was momentarily distracted while working, a mistake even healers in-training knew the danger of, and what was bound to happen, happened. He cut his finger on the jagged edge of one of the vials of sleeping draught.
"When did I break it ?"
The elf glanced over the worktable. He did not break it, but had accidentally refilled the cracked vial that he meant to discard earlier. Shaking his head, he washed the cut on his hand before emptying the vial's contents and washing it out. "There, no chance of mistaking it again now," he said as he tossed it into a bin.
A sudden feeling of dizziness was the first sign to appear. Despite his timely attention, the liquid had already seeped into the cut. It was bad for work, and doubly bad for work in the Hall of Healing.
A nod to another healer in passing, and Laurelindo left the Hall, going outside for a walk to clear the fuzziness from his brain. He shivered in the cold air, appreciating how the chill was already reducing the effect of the draught, and wandered down the path aimlessly, ruminating about the events of the day, his thoughts running in strange circles.
Estarfin seemed to be stronger. He did not think it, of course, but he is. He could move out of the bed today, with help, yes, and he could not sit up without support, but he did move about without coughing blood: a great relief, and a very good sign for his recovery!
He is however too weak and unready to stand up, let alone run or fight or whatever it is he wishes to do, and seems to be very frustrated, understandably. Such an active and normally sturdy elf likes to be up and doing. And the fact that the use of his hand has not returned must be very worrisome to him. I do not know what it means for him as a warrior. Surely he cannot continue in the same capacity as before this injury. At the very least, he will find himself in an extremely reduced capacity, but much depends on his outlook, and the will of Lord Veryacano. But, really, I cannot help but be afraid for Estarfin, if he cannot regain use of his hand. Though, maybe I'm seeing too far ahead. After all, he may yet regain the use of that hand... I hope...
And Lord Parnard's offers to help do not help at all! Although I must admit that I am rather curious as to the effects of his decoction. However, I would not dare test it on anyone, especially not the sickly, and especially not someone as weakened as Estarfin.
I mean - really! Among a few good healing plants, he used oil of hydrangea, which can induce hallucinations, and a risk of death at too high a dose; and he added some aconite essence, which is a poison!
No matter how small the quantity of either I will NOT take any chance on lord Estarfin's health. But, I must admit, the combination seems most curious. It is almost sad that I would never test it on any one, else I would be accused of kinslaying. And I doubt I could hide behind the very poor excuse of, "But it was Lord Parnard's idea!"
I might just explain it all to Estarfin and give him the choice to trust Parnard's skills on this or not. I think it a foolish risk. He should refuse it until he is much, much stronger, so that he may tolerate any ill effects. I would dearly like to know what the others think of this idea, and see how Elloen, Lady Eliriael, lady Uilossiel or Tyulussë's react to lord Parnard's suggestions to treat Estarfin. Or their opinions of the ingredients of his healing...concoctions.
He was not satisfied with trying his hand at a bizarre herbal mixture that I would never have dreamed possible, not lord Parnard! He insisted on examining him, and I had to stop him in the very act of poking Estarfin’s hand with his quill. Honestly, if Lord Estarfin was going to feel anything, my hand on his would have been the first thing to cause him pain. There was absolutely no need for Parnard to do that. I gave him a look that told him he would have to surrender the quill, if he did it again.
He was ill-pleased, but, thankfully, stood aside to let me work. Would that it was in silence! Instead he kept talking and talking. Oh, why did he have to insist on the matter? Didn't he see what it could do to reveal to lord Estarfin that lady Danel planned to leave the valley! And of course, surprise of surprise, it was lady Danel herself who told Lord Estarfin. He looked very unhappy.
I cannot say I was too happy either. Well, I cannot prevent her from going, but I dearly wish she would not. She says she is healed enough – did she suffered or treated many head wounds to be an able judge of how healed she is? Anyway, I respectfully disagree. Anything could make her relapse and go blind: a blow to the head, too much of a strain...she must take better care of herself. Whatever she thinks, she must understand that things could turn out very, very wrong, very, very fast.
Coming to a hill which overlooked one of the Valley’s many waterfalls, Laurelindo yawned and sat against a tree, but no longer was he admiring the view. Instead, his eyes foresaw all the things that could go wrong in such a journey. He sighed. Slowly his eyes lost focus as his breathing evened out. His legs twitched, then went slack.
The city was on fire, shouts and clamour of fights were heard all around him. Eregion was falling. People were screaming, fighting for their life, running...burning...dying...
...there, caught under a crumbled wall, his mother. Nearby, a hole through the chest, one of his father's friends. And his own friends.
And then uniforms he knew. Vanimar. Tyulussë, Estarfin, Nirhen, Parnard. Elloen. Earalenia. Elvealin. Uilossiel. Danel. All his friends. All his lords. All his house. Dead.
A violent startle and Laurelindo's eyes came back into sharp focus.
"I hate drug-induced sleep!” muttered the elf before standing up, a little unsteadily. He decided to return to his rooms. Some harp music would help his mind shake off the melancholy of the nightmare.
