Broken (December 2987) {Runa}
Jan 29, 2018 10:36:31 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Jan 29, 2018 10:36:31 GMT -5
Ceolmund had become frightened once more as Hildred and another young healer moved around him; his Father was called into from the outside to hold him still, and he braced himself for the setting of the bone. A blinding pain struck him as Hildred made swift work of the process, and his eyes stung with tears once more. He cried out, but did not pull away; and after a minute, the pain began to dissipate to a duller throb as Hildred splinted his arm, much more carefully than Mother had tried to do.
“Here, sweetheart. This is a boswellia and willow tincture. It will help ease the pain in the arm, but it doesn’t taste to good, so chase it down with some of that mint.”
Nausea from the pain threatened to make Ceolmund gag, and he eyed the tincture in it's little glass jar. Much more appealing was the smell of the mint tea steaming and wafting toward him. The scent itself was a relief, and he looked gratefully toward Hildred. He did not say anything in response, for his arm was causing too much pain now for his lips to form his own words, yet he reached a hand out to Hildred and clutched her wrist warmly, his eyes looking inquisitively up toward her. Why was she so kind?
The hearth was crackling, and the boy was tired. He almost wished that he could simply lay down on the warm cot where he was seated. Something about the Hall and Hildred there seemed homier than his own house, and he did not wish to walk back out into the chill night air. He would have stayed here even with the other patients and illness about him if it meant he did not need go back to Elin.
Ceorl nodded, eyeing Hildred as the gave instructions for the tincture and the oil. They would stop by the shop on the way home with the extras and tuck it away in his cupboards there to keep his wife from dumping it out. He looked pityingly on his son. With that injury the poor lad would be stuck indoors for a couple months at least now. The boy had been able to escape the last year or two during the day to chop wood for some hours; though now he would be lost on that. Elin did not like him going to the bowyer shop, yet perhaps he could think of something one handed that he needed the boy to do there to keep him out of the home.
There was a look in Ceolmund's eye that Ceorl had not seen for years, even in the pain, it seemed the dullness was leaving them. He looked toward Hildred and sighed. The woman should have been Ceolmund's mother. He would have never had to endure Elin.
Hildred leaned toward Ceolmund with the tincture bottle, and he reached out for it. He would be glad for an ease to the pain… something aside from Mother's sleeping tonic, and he somehow knew that Hildred was being truthful to him. She was not a witch. Far from it, it seemed. She was familiar.
“You’re going to be back to playing with Hakon in no time.”
The boy froze, and his lip downturned and immediately began to quiver. He held Hildred's eyes for a moment, yet then dropped his gaze, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, before shooting to his feet. He would never play with Hakon again. Ceolmund felt the sting in his eyes again, and made a quiet sob as he ducked behind his father and made for the door of the healing hall.
“She burned it,” Ceorl answered lowly after the door slammed. For a moment his eyes were sad and bore into Hildred's. Then, he dropped his gaze and took the little jar from Hildred in hand, recorking it. He gathered the rest, and reached down for the little bird Ceolmund had left upon the bed, muttering a quick, “Thank you,” as he took off out the door to catch up to his son.
“Here, sweetheart. This is a boswellia and willow tincture. It will help ease the pain in the arm, but it doesn’t taste to good, so chase it down with some of that mint.”
Nausea from the pain threatened to make Ceolmund gag, and he eyed the tincture in it's little glass jar. Much more appealing was the smell of the mint tea steaming and wafting toward him. The scent itself was a relief, and he looked gratefully toward Hildred. He did not say anything in response, for his arm was causing too much pain now for his lips to form his own words, yet he reached a hand out to Hildred and clutched her wrist warmly, his eyes looking inquisitively up toward her. Why was she so kind?
The hearth was crackling, and the boy was tired. He almost wished that he could simply lay down on the warm cot where he was seated. Something about the Hall and Hildred there seemed homier than his own house, and he did not wish to walk back out into the chill night air. He would have stayed here even with the other patients and illness about him if it meant he did not need go back to Elin.
Ceorl nodded, eyeing Hildred as the gave instructions for the tincture and the oil. They would stop by the shop on the way home with the extras and tuck it away in his cupboards there to keep his wife from dumping it out. He looked pityingly on his son. With that injury the poor lad would be stuck indoors for a couple months at least now. The boy had been able to escape the last year or two during the day to chop wood for some hours; though now he would be lost on that. Elin did not like him going to the bowyer shop, yet perhaps he could think of something one handed that he needed the boy to do there to keep him out of the home.
There was a look in Ceolmund's eye that Ceorl had not seen for years, even in the pain, it seemed the dullness was leaving them. He looked toward Hildred and sighed. The woman should have been Ceolmund's mother. He would have never had to endure Elin.
Hildred leaned toward Ceolmund with the tincture bottle, and he reached out for it. He would be glad for an ease to the pain… something aside from Mother's sleeping tonic, and he somehow knew that Hildred was being truthful to him. She was not a witch. Far from it, it seemed. She was familiar.
“You’re going to be back to playing with Hakon in no time.”
The boy froze, and his lip downturned and immediately began to quiver. He held Hildred's eyes for a moment, yet then dropped his gaze, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, before shooting to his feet. He would never play with Hakon again. Ceolmund felt the sting in his eyes again, and made a quiet sob as he ducked behind his father and made for the door of the healing hall.
“She burned it,” Ceorl answered lowly after the door slammed. For a moment his eyes were sad and bore into Hildred's. Then, he dropped his gaze and took the little jar from Hildred in hand, recorking it. He gathered the rest, and reached down for the little bird Ceolmund had left upon the bed, muttering a quick, “Thank you,” as he took off out the door to catch up to his son.