I've no idea what to do, and so all I may do is write. That is to say, apart of what I have already done.
Mister Dimheim is dying. He has apparently nearly died a few times now. Mister Aeruthuil claimed that it is likely due to all the "odd liquids and gasses" he experiments with, and that he took them from him immediately upon finding him ill.
That is, he told me all of this after keeping with the rumour that Dimheim was ill with fever. He is rather terrible at lying but I chose not to push it. Their privacy is their own, after all.
But then, as we sat beside the fire drinking, he let it slip that Dimheim was in poorer condition than I anticipated. Here I had come, thinking I would offer my aid for some fever, and I found whatever ails him is likely rather above my head. I have much less training in dangerous materials such as he was handling.
I could tell Aeruthuil is troubled. Though his personal care appears to have much improved since first I met him, it was clear he was not able to rest. I knew this before he mentioned it to me. He clearly cares deeply for the doctor. I offered my assistance should they want or need it...but I fear the worst.
What would I do in such an situation anyway, save tend to only symptoms as I tried desperately to find the true cause? Dimheim seemed more adept than I, so why is it he that is ill?
I did my best to be comforting and optimistic, but I do not like the sound of any of this. As I squeezed his hand to try and reassure him, and told him I was sure Dimheim would be alright, I cursed myself for lying to him, even to give him any measure of comfort.
I have no such assurance. I have not even seen the doctor, and it sounds quite dire.
Most often I embrace a person, stroke their hair as they weep, speak softly, rub their backs. Or I give their hand or shoulder a squeeze, say I shall do my best to tend to their loved one, or it was not their fault. Such things as this. But for Aeruthuil, how could I do such things? I am not even tending to Dimheim. Nor was the man weeping. Nor do I think he would appreciate a hug from a clearly insane redheaded lass. He would likely blame it on the whiskey he gave me. And so instead I lied through my teeth.
All I know currently is that I shall be visiting more often, bringing nourishment, company and offers of aid each time. All I will ask in return is updates on Mister Dimheim's condition.
I will speak of this to not another soul before I receive permission. I fear the worst but I can do nothing for it.
Ha, here I am, a healer who has devoted her life to aiding others. To caring for Bree. Now fully alone. Unable to care for those who lay dying. What cruel joke am I?
How dare I pity myself in light of such struggles as others are facing??! Sleep, you foolish woman!
Goodnight little book.
~Ash
