Broken (December 2987) {Runa}
Jan 25, 2018 11:38:29 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Jan 25, 2018 11:38:29 GMT -5
The boy's eyes were pained, tears dripping from half open lids. He clutched his arm in his opposite hand, sniffling. He was only nine years old, though he was tall for his age and growing lanky. The soft baby cheeks had long since left him, and his blue eyes were large beneath his ruffled ashy blonde hair. The sky was lit by moonlight and starlight, and he could see the wisps of clouds trailing through the air. A bat, late in the season fluttered past overhead in search of what moths remained from the warmer months. Puffy eyes watched as it swooped into the shadows on the side of the building looming before them. He could smell the woodsmoke curling from the chimney, and firelight shone through the windows from within.
Ceorl pushed the door to the Healing Hall open in haste. “It's my son, Oda,” he told the healer nearest him, words running quickly slurred in worry. “His arm is broke. He won't tell me what's happened though… Fighting again, I suspect. Worse than the usual.”
Though his Father was in haste, Ceolmund was sniffling still behind him, shuffling sluggishly in, his head hung low now. His face was reddened from a blow to the eye, a purple ring slowly forming beneath it. His nose had been bleeding, yet it had ceased earlier, and the blood was now simply dried beneath on his upper lip. The boy took a shifty glance upward at the healer before him.
Mother would not be pleased. She always tended him at home when something happened, though Father had said if his arm was broken he would need to go to the Healing Hall… and that they should go and have it checked. Elin had given an emphatic 'no', telling his Father that the troll fodder at the Hall would make it worse, and so she had Ceolmund sit in a chair at the table as she wrapped his arm in a makeshift splint and given him a dose of brennevin for the pain. The boy had fallen asleep in his place at the table and had been out for a few hours as Ceorl paced through the house trying to decide what to do.
The thought of Mother made Ceolmund worried, for he had not asked permission, and Mother had always said that the healers made things worse. They might break his other arm, or if they couldn't fix this one, they might take it off altogether. Ceolmund had seen a soldier in the city with a missing arm, and when he heard another child ask what had happened to it, he had told them the healers had amputated it. If his arm was truly broken, perhaps Mother or Grandmother could fix it, and his Father did not know what he was speaking about, bringing him here.
Looking around though, it did not seem so terrible a place as Mother had made it out to be. The other healers looked friendly, and the hearth was burning warm. There only seemed to be women about; aside from a few men alseep in their beds. He did not see implements of amputation laying around on the tables, and everyone present seemed to have all their limbs. There was a smell of herbs that Ceolmund found settling, and he took in a deep breath, sniffling once more.
“Is… Hildred here?” Ceorl asked in a whisper that even Ceolmund could not hear over the sound of crackling hearth. Ceorl looked side eyed through the room. “I'd like her to see to him, but don't say I asked for her, please,” he added quickly.
It had been over five years since Ceorl had spoken to either Hildred or Amalric. He had seen both of them around town of course, yet always attempted to avert his eyes. In the earlier days Amalric had even come to his shop to try and speak with him; but he had been closed off. Many on the outside might have said Ceorl had been rude; yet he had to turn his friend away. It was not worth the risk. He had seen the large man walking through town. Beorhtric bearing himself tall and well postured beside him, and a small girl with hair as bright as sunshine clinging to their hands and bounding along beside them on the street. Ceorl had done what he had done to their friendship with purpose. He could not have those children harmed alongside his own.
The restraining order, however, had expired three months past. Elin had asked him to reinstate it; but it seemed not worth the while. Hildred had left them well enough alone. There was no reason. And, as he had been told, if they had ever needed the services of the Hall, there would be difficulties if Hildred was present. Now, it seemed, that day had come.
Ceorl pushed the door to the Healing Hall open in haste. “It's my son, Oda,” he told the healer nearest him, words running quickly slurred in worry. “His arm is broke. He won't tell me what's happened though… Fighting again, I suspect. Worse than the usual.”
Though his Father was in haste, Ceolmund was sniffling still behind him, shuffling sluggishly in, his head hung low now. His face was reddened from a blow to the eye, a purple ring slowly forming beneath it. His nose had been bleeding, yet it had ceased earlier, and the blood was now simply dried beneath on his upper lip. The boy took a shifty glance upward at the healer before him.
Mother would not be pleased. She always tended him at home when something happened, though Father had said if his arm was broken he would need to go to the Healing Hall… and that they should go and have it checked. Elin had given an emphatic 'no', telling his Father that the troll fodder at the Hall would make it worse, and so she had Ceolmund sit in a chair at the table as she wrapped his arm in a makeshift splint and given him a dose of brennevin for the pain. The boy had fallen asleep in his place at the table and had been out for a few hours as Ceorl paced through the house trying to decide what to do.
The thought of Mother made Ceolmund worried, for he had not asked permission, and Mother had always said that the healers made things worse. They might break his other arm, or if they couldn't fix this one, they might take it off altogether. Ceolmund had seen a soldier in the city with a missing arm, and when he heard another child ask what had happened to it, he had told them the healers had amputated it. If his arm was truly broken, perhaps Mother or Grandmother could fix it, and his Father did not know what he was speaking about, bringing him here.
Looking around though, it did not seem so terrible a place as Mother had made it out to be. The other healers looked friendly, and the hearth was burning warm. There only seemed to be women about; aside from a few men alseep in their beds. He did not see implements of amputation laying around on the tables, and everyone present seemed to have all their limbs. There was a smell of herbs that Ceolmund found settling, and he took in a deep breath, sniffling once more.
“Is… Hildred here?” Ceorl asked in a whisper that even Ceolmund could not hear over the sound of crackling hearth. Ceorl looked side eyed through the room. “I'd like her to see to him, but don't say I asked for her, please,” he added quickly.
It had been over five years since Ceorl had spoken to either Hildred or Amalric. He had seen both of them around town of course, yet always attempted to avert his eyes. In the earlier days Amalric had even come to his shop to try and speak with him; but he had been closed off. Many on the outside might have said Ceorl had been rude; yet he had to turn his friend away. It was not worth the risk. He had seen the large man walking through town. Beorhtric bearing himself tall and well postured beside him, and a small girl with hair as bright as sunshine clinging to their hands and bounding along beside them on the street. Ceorl had done what he had done to their friendship with purpose. He could not have those children harmed alongside his own.
The restraining order, however, had expired three months past. Elin had asked him to reinstate it; but it seemed not worth the while. Hildred had left them well enough alone. There was no reason. And, as he had been told, if they had ever needed the services of the Hall, there would be difficulties if Hildred was present. Now, it seemed, that day had come.