This is the tale of a journey that takes Luna not only to discover the world beyond Narnia's borders; she will find a purpose that goes deeper than protecting her king.
» That's why. I can't protect you the way I should... « As she looks into his ey...
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Elrik hisses in pain as Jonathan tightens the fresh bandage around his arm. A faint chuckle leaves the medic's lips. It doesn't surprise him anymore. He has seen seasoned men flinch and cry at the slightest pain, comes with the profession. Then again, it did surprise him when he treated cuts and bruises of the king or his Crown Shield on their long journey. Mostly, his healing touch didn't elicit even a twitch. As if on cue both their gazes wander to the opposite side of the cabin where Luna's cot is half-hidden behind a makeshift paravent. The warrior barley moves in her prolonged sleep, her chest rising and falling with irregular dropouts.
» How is she? « Elrik's question is quiet. He doesn't wish to disturb her rest, nor the king sitting by her side. Jon draws his chin towards his chest, hands fiddling with the ends of the bandage,
» No change. « Elrik sighs. Two days ago, his friend evaded death once – and countless times before – and what for? Only for that bastard to cowardly strike her down. His jaw clenches at the image of the slave traders' chief laughing as the Devil's Tide vanished in the night behind the Dawn Treader. He laughed despite the Narnians' victory over the pirates. Elrik doesn't question that victory – that would dishonour Luna's deed. Without a doubt she saved many lives from being sold as slaves or death itself. Yet, the Narnians paid a price and still have no idea how high it will be. Plus, Pug getting away once more nags at everyone. Since the Dawn Treader's lassie was brought in the med bay and Jon did everything he could, the crew visits and asks the doctor about her constantly. No one likes to think about where they would be without her, well, and the mermaid.
A knock at the door announces Halion's presence. The large man pokes his head inside. Elrik nods at him, sliding off the cot. Thanking the doctor, he leaves to make room for the next patient. They shuffle around quietly, almost reverently. But nothing would draw Caspian's attention anyway. He has not left her side, refused to lay down. So, Jon had to treat him right there. To say, the doc is concerned, puts it mildly. The king sustained many injuries. They will heal but he shouldn't strain himself and rest – which he flat out refuses to do. As far as Jon can tell, he barley slept a few hours since – of course, leaning on the side of her bed. All that, however, is not the doctor's main concern. The physical health can be restored despite unideal circumstances, the king is young and healthy. His mind, his soul, seems to have taken a harder blow.
Halion reaches to cot surprisingly quiet, only glancing over at the couple as if afraid to intrude on them. The sailor shrugs off his shirt without so much as a huff at the pain it must cause him. He took an arrow to the left upper arm – yet pays it little mind and keeps working with both hands. Jon sighs at the sight of the bloodied bandage, mumbling a curse on the stubbornness of his patients and gets to work.
*
Drinian slams his hand flat on the wall, grumbling a curse.
