You were a new healer at the palace, not new to the job as you previously worked in a small healing house in town but new to working for someone with status. You didn't think you would get the job seeing as you weren't anyone remarkable, but the head healer from town sent you off for the interview and wrote you a rather exceptional letter of recommendation and that's how you found yourself here you supposed.
You were never short of things to do with constant battles and sieges going on, so you were enjoying the rare moment of peace by reading a book on herbology, enjoying it until the door opened with a loud bang that is.
"Get off! I'm telling you I'm fine and don't need to see a healer!" an angry voice shouted.
"And I'm telling you that that gash needs stitches, so whether you like it or not Caranthir, I'm having someone look at that!" Another voice replied with firmness. Looking towards the door you stood up immediately and straightened when you noticed it was your lord and his brother. It was quite impressive you thought, he only had one hand but he still managed to drag him here despite your lord's best efforts to throw him off. You heard from the other healers how they were afraid of him and how he had a harsh temper. You didn't care, you were used to dealing with drunkards and worse men when you still worked in town, so treating him wouldn't bother you.
"Milords" you greeted with a bow of your head.
"I will require you to take a look at my brother's wounds, please. He claims he doesn't require a healer but the bloodstain on his side states otherwise." You nodded your head in understanding and gestured for him to sit in a chair.
"I need you to take your shirt off please so I can examine the wound," you told him and waited. You didn't have an issue with taking clothes off someone when you had to treat them, but that was usually in situations when the casualty was unconscious or unable to do it themselves. In this case, your lord was neither so you had him do it. After a glare in your direction which you ignored, he promptly took off his shirt. Even sitting down he was taller than you so you didn't have to kneel to examine the wound. Inspecting it you noticed why his brother would see the need to drag him here. The horizontal gash running up his side was still bleeding, but faintly. To the untrained eye, it would look worse than it is, but you knew that there was a bigger risk of developing an infection than bleeding to death, it could use a few stitches to minimize scarring though.
"Well?" What you figured out must be his eldest brother asked.
You turned to face him, "You were right to bring him here milord, but there isn't any imminent danger of death. The wound does look worse then it is, but there is still an issue of infection developing which can lead to later problems, I'll also stitch it up to minimise scarring. Afterward, you should be good to go about your business provided you do nothing too straining." You spoke the last bit directly to your lord, who kept a scowl on his face.
"Well, seeing as you're in good hands brother, I will take my leave. Miss, after you send my brother on his way, please come and find me, there are a few soldiers with minor injuries which I would like you to tend to." With that he disappeared, leaving you to tend to your grouchy lord.
Suddenly he stood up and took his shirt from the nearby chair and made to leave.
"Milord, what do you think you are doing?" You asked him irritated.
"You said it yourself, I am in no danger of dying so I will be taking my leave as well." You looked at him incredulously but would not let him win. You moved to stand in front of him and crossed your arms in front of you.
"So you have conveniently chosen to ignore the latter part of my speech? I can assure you that dying from infection is no pleasant business and by receiving stitches your wound will heal faster, allowing you to return to your tasks sooner. You may be my lord, but I rule over a patient's health and on no good conscience can I allow you to leave. Which leaves us with two options, you can either sit back down and allow me to treat you while you comply or I will ask for one of your brothers to return here to hold you down like a petulant child so that I can treat you. Which option sounds better to you?" You lifted your head to look into his eyes and raised your eyebrow challengingly.
Caranthir looked at you in shock, never before has some random person dared to speak to him in such a way, with his mother being the only person to ever tell him what to do. It may have been this sudden resemblance and shock which had him sitting back down onto the chair with a scoff.
You smiled at your victory and poured a disinfectant solution into a bowl with a gauze sponge.
Caranthir watched you intently as you worked, gently cleaning his wound so he felt minimum pain. What caught his interest was the way you dared to talk back and also that you have shown no fear in being around him like so many other people, He had an infamous temper and many wished to stay clear of him lest they experience it.
"What is your name?" He suddenly asked and you looked up in surprise.
"I am called y/n, milord." You replied all the while treating his wound.
He nodded and the two of you returned to a strangely comfortable silence.
Done cleaning it, you spread a numbing lotion onto it and left it to take effect while you prepared a needle and thread.
After you stitched up the wound, you applied bandages over it to add an extra layer of protection from factors such as dirt and to keep them in place.
"Thank you," Caranthir said looking down at the neat work.
"You are welcome" you replied with a smile.
"Now, I need you to return here again tomorrow morning and evening so that I can check on the wound and change your bandages. You should be fine within a week or so as it wasn't particularly deep, but in the meantime, I need you to stay away from strenuous actives such as using a sword or running, otherwise, you will open your stitches and you will be prolonging your recovery time. With that, you are free to go milord."
You started to pack away your supplies to clean them and put them back into their places when your lord suddenly spoke up, "I will walk you."
You looked up in confusion to see your lord with a red face and looking anywhere but at you.
"I'm sorry?" You asked slightly confused.
If possible his face went even redder as he extended his arm to you and clarified, "I will walk you to my brother, he did tell you to go to him after you finish with my wound and it's easy to get lost."
You contemplated telling him that you worked here long enough to know most of the locations of the rooms by heart, but you decided to leave it and instead said, "I need to clean these up and put them away." You gestured at the used equipment. "Do you not have to be anywhere urgently? This will take a while."
"I do not, so I will wait." You looked him over skeptically, but he seemed rather determined to stay so you nodded your head.
When before the silence was comfortable, now it was just awkward as you were tidying up and he was browsing around the room, trying to keep himself busy; you were glad when you finally finished.
"Milord? I am done."
He stopped looking through the bookshelf in the corner and walked over to you, extending his arm.
You hesitantly took it and allowed him to lead you out of the room.
"Do you always have to do that?" He asked you as you were walking.
"The cleaning? Yes. If I don't or rather a healer doesn't clean their tools then they are not only risking infecting another patient but also damaging them and they aren't exactly cheap to replace." You replied matter of factly.
You looked up at him and saw he had a thoughtful expression on his face.
"It is the same for warriors, if we do not clean our swords they will rust and have no more use."
You nodded in understanding, the principle was more or less the same, granted one was used to saving people and the other hurting them.
"We're here. I, well, thank you. For treating my wound. I wish you a good day." With that, he walked off, where, you cared not as you had work to do. Putting thoughts of your strange lord out of your head, you knocked at the door and waited for admittance.
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Through The Seas To First Age
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