She had drifted off into light reverie when her patient sat up suddenly, then groaned and clutched his midsection.
Startled, Lilleduil found herself annoyed, which was rather unreasonable of her. Thendryt might believe himself still in battle or have suffered a bad dream.
“Lay back before you undo all my work!” she snapped, then added more softly, “I’ll find something to prop you up a bit.”
She heard the man curse softly to himself. “Damn it…” Apparently he was less than thrilled to wake with her for company. Then he turned his head towards her. “How long was I out?”
Lilleduil got up and went over to the tent to find a blanket to augment her cloak as a pillow. “Several hours now. The others are resting.” Rolling the fabric into makeshift pillows, she noticed Thendryt examining his bandaged injuries. He gave her a dark look, which she ignored.
Returning to his uninjured side, she knelt and slid an arm beneath him, lifting him with a small grunt as she slid the pillows underneath him. He settled back against them.
“Your work?” he asked, indicating the bandages.
“Yes.”
“How much did you remove?”
“I’m sure when Elisbeth returns, she’ll want to look at you.”
Thendryt growled low. “No one needs to look at me!”
He shifted again, as if to push himself up with his left arm and Lilleduil chided him. “Don’t move the arm. It has some of my more decorative needlework in it.” She moved to the fire and poured a cup of tea from one of two kettles heating there. “Here. Drink this.”
“You’re ignoring my question,” her fellow Maethor grumbled as Lilleduil knelt and offered the tea to him. “How much did you remove?”
Lilleduil looked at him uncomprehending. Was he talking about skin or body parts or such? “The only thing I removed was an arrowhead.” The corner of her mouth curled up a little. “Your arrogance remains untouched.”
Thendryt ignored the jibe and took the cup with his good hand. “We both know I’m talking about my clothes. How much did you see, elf?”
No, one of us knew we were talking about your clothes. What an odd thing to worry about! She knew Men were more body conscious than elves, but to be worried about her seeing him? Why would he be? Unless…her memory of what she had seen informed her as to a possible reason for his reticence. She gave the injured man a flat look.
“I only removed your shirt. And believe it or not, it’s not the first time I’ve been on a battlefield, nor the first time I’ve tended warriors afterward. Scars don’t impress me any more than any of your other…attributes. Drink your tea!”
He glared at her for a moment, but to her surprise, complied. She almost thought he seemed relieved.
“If you don’t like the taste, blame Postoneth. He claims it’s good for blood loss.” She reached over to pour herself a cup from the second teakettle and sipped it, savoring. “And if you drink all of that, you can have the nice tea.”
“Well, if you’ve seen the artwork on my chest, I’m sure you’ll realize that I’m beyond caring about fine needlework,” the Man declared, returning to the previous subject.
“Indeed.” She said no more, but reached over with her free hand and laid it on his forehead. “You do not seem to be taking a fever. That is good.”
Thendryt shrugged himself out from under her touch and endeavored to sit up once more. She pressed him back down by his good shoulder.
“Down!” Ignoring his glare as she pushed him back down against the pillows, Lilleduil said firmly, “There is nothing going on that requires you at present. And Elisbeth may decide that you’ve earned a cart ride back to Imladris when she sees you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of riding myself.”
Lilleduil snorted. “Riiiiggggghhhhtttt,” she drawled. “Just like you were fully capable of doing field surgery on yourself. We’ve seen how well that worked out.”
The Man gave her an annoyed look, then his expression suddenly changed. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? My field surgery can’t be that bad.”
Seeing that his cup was empty of the blood-building tea, Lilleduil took and reached over to refill it from the second teapot. “Here you are,” she said, handing the promised cup to Thendryt. “And what do you mean, your field surgery? You didn’t do any field surgery.”
Thendryt lapsed into silence for a moment before saying, “Never mind.”
Lilleduil repressed a smile, then sipped her tea as she chose her words. She’d been thinking some decidedly combative thoughts as she had tended the unconscious Man, but now that he was awake she was wondering if a less blatantly aggressive tone might not work better. Her brow lifted when she spoke at last and her tone was mild. “In future, when I am acting healer for the mission, do not lie to me about your condition, because I have decided to treat this incident as an aberration. Surely one Leutha Maethor would not withhold such critical information from another for no good reason. So the next time you tell me you are well, I will believe you. And I may be out bird watching while you‘re bleeding out. I birdwatch quite a bit.” She took another sip of her tea.
“Certainly, I will not be diving into a river after you.”
Thendryt’s head turned towards her, as if he had just noticed her. He sat up slowly, his expression very controlled. The bandages about his abdomen began to redden, and Lilleduil sighed in renewed annoyance.
“Would you stop that?”
“Let’s get one thing out in the open,” Thendryt began in the tone of voice he reserved for threats and ultimatums.
“I had to dig that one out of you,” the loremaster said, disregarding the threatening tone and gesturing towards the lowest wound.
“I’ve dug out worse.”
“A little difficult to dig this one out when you were drowning!” Lilleduil snapped. Thendryt glared at her and she glared right back, knowing that such was a challenge among almost all wild animals.
“I told you I was fine,” Thendryt growled. “I did not ask you to do this. Don't complain to me about having to save me when I did not ask for it. We both know that I am not going to be around forever. And we both know that in your life, I will be part in but a tiny fraction of your life. So don't try to act like it's a big deal that a Man in Eregion almost lost his life.”
Lilleduil made a great effort and the disbelieving laugh that had been about to issue from her was transformed into a snort. Seriously? And I thought the Rohirrim were bad about the whine, when they weren’t out trying to get themselves killed! Aloud, she said, “Are you quite done with the pity party?”
Thendryt, who had paled for a moment, carefully settled himself back against the pillows once more. “I’m sure the day will come soon enough,” he continued.
“Do tell me when you are finished,” Lilleduil said coolly.
Thendryt muttered something under his breath; then at Lilleduil’s groan of protest, waved his hand in an indeterminate sort of “I’m finished,” gesture.
“Good. If you want to commit suicide, then go do it. But don‘t drag us down with you. We had to break our cover to get to you, and we had to carry you back here, when if you had only admitted you were hurt, I could have tended you and you could have walked back under your own power. I assumed, perhaps mistakenly, that if you were here, you wished to be a functioning member of the mission.”
Thendryt’s brows drew down. “The only reason we’re having this discussion is because of that river.”
Lilleduil’s brows went up. “Meaning?”
“If I had fainted on the ground, I would’ve woken up soon enough, burnt these wounds and gotten back here soon enough as well.”
A sigh of aggrieved patience gusted from Lilleduil. “Right. Burnt the wounds with what? There was no campfire. And because, of course, we would have just let you lie there and bleed. Stop being an idiot.”
“You might not have found me.” The Man smiled slightly, seemingly cheered by this idea.
Yet another thing to take issue with, Lilleduil thought. “Ah yes, your famous wanderings.” Seeing movement she looked up then got to her feet immediately and bowed. “Tur.”
“Wanderings? I don’t usually wand…” Thendryt broke off when he saw Elisbeth.
“Oh great…” he said in dismay.
