Tending to Tyrun

[Lady Edfeil]

*There were many helping hands in the hall and near the infirmary, and while the hours glided away in the hourglass, she did what she could herself.
In quiet vigil, she prayed. As was his wish, she nae bartered anymore, but simply had reverted to pleas. Allow him to live. Allow him to be well. Allow him to come back to us as he was, full of boisterous life and humour.
She could nae imagine the pain he must be in, but she knew how 't must be for the others. When nae a healer was available she herself had tended to wounds, yet even she had nae seen someone with the many wounds of the captain, who had come through... without a hinder later. And yet... 't must be done.
A candle burned, as 't had been burning since he had been returned to the castle, covered in blood and with worry in Sir Joseph's eyes.

Those that were nae aiding or tending to their duties walked into the chapel oft, for a moment of prayer or to take over their turn in the vigil. For the stream of prayers nae was just her own. The Captain had friends here, many friends, and none of them would release him.*

[LadyLaurestina]

As she paced...slowly, in thoughtful deliberation, waiting for Lady Rayven, while the torches blazed and the small hearth kept the damp night air from permeating her patient. Name letting her eyes stray from the captains prone body for more than a few minutes at a time, even greater concerns consumed her.

Had her message been delivered to lady Rayven, where the cobwebs being gathered and did Sir Joseph indeed return to the castle yet, was he successful in his hunt? Would there be some one available to gather the wood needed for a spints, and would her new and daring proceedure actually work, would she or the captain, or both.... fail to live...to prosper...and thrive?

If no help arrived soon, she would need to summon forth ladies to help her begin her next procedure which would be her final and most dangerous of all plights since she had began her healing arts.

Feeling her thigh again, *closed her eyes *, would such a procedure as she had been working through in her mind actually work? Would the Good Captain’s body be receptive and able to heal that much faster in view of what she had proposed to do, but mixed emotions she had managed to conjure up in her mind. Would she herself be able to handle the excuciating pain she would also put her self though on his behalf? Her mind was in great tourmoil as all these thoughts and decisions grieved her anxiously. Time was nae on her side, she had to act fast, and knew she could nae do it alone. As she turned her body around in it's slow pace, facing the entrance of the infirmary, thinking she could make out faint glimpses of figures, and hear the hushed whispers of familar voices in the night’s flickering light.

*A strained whisper did she utter now, her voice nae sounded as her own. The tension having caused the musical resonance of her voice to be almost an octave higher than her normal range.*

“Who goes there, please …anyone,...... who ever you are? OH ...please.... do enter…aye…pleaseeee…?”

[Rayven]

((real time has had me for a bit, making it difficult to post, but I shall do so this evening. ))

[Millie and Mollie]

*Mollie shoved her Sister forward.....the girl stood fast and moved slightly to the side so her twin could go first. They muttered to each other and eventually stepped closer to the Healer. Her voice sounded strange......they thought her strange, and yet....there was a kindness about her.... a quality that seemed to shine. So often her antics would make them chuckle behind their hands as they spied her about the Castle. A free Spirit she was....and word told of a very good healer too.

Mollie tugged at her Sisters arm and together they approached the Lady....both holding out their arms. One Basket of webs and a bowl of what looked like something cook should have boiling on the stove.*

"Milady...yers be a wantin' these aye......we 'opes we 'as dun tha right fing."

*Both girls curtsied and waited......almost trembling in their boots.*

[Lady Edfeil]

*She could be stuborn. While oft she was pliable and molded to the wishes of others, there were times when she could be stuborn, especially if none found harm in what she did. And so, while the healers tended to Captain Tyrun, she kept up the quiet vigil in the chapel. Many a man and woman came to join. Each taking an hour or so from their time of rest to simply be in the chapel and plea to God for the life and health of the Norseman.
Oh, they had faith in the healers, and in the captain himself. For when he had pulled through the first nights, people had refound confidence. He too was stuborn, and very rarely molded in any way shape or form. And he had told her he would nae be dying yet. So he would nae.

And to make certain of 't, Edfeil send up prayer after prayer. Remembering her promise she had ceased any bartering, but send up earnest prayer after prayer, asking to restore his body completely.*

[LadyLaurestina]

Still she paced silently, often looking down on the captain, while he rested. His body waiting for the remaining stitches and her long thought out plan to replace the lost tissues from his arm. There was little she could do for any crushed or broken bones in his arm, but splint. Her thoughts now clear, and all was ready this night while everything she needed was set upon the table next to the cot. Her stool and yes another ready for Lady Rayven wating, should she return, but if nae, she would pray for an assistant. All the ladies of the castle were skilled in needle work, and all she could hope for…. just in case… suddenly a new thought as her mind spun in circles... running wild as a stallion in flight, for nae did she consider her own plight. All she knew was to serve her home at best for Mister Tyrun, the.... captain himself.

Again she thought she heard muffled voices. Rising her head, *smiled softly* as her heart rejoiced to see the twin sisters, Millie and Mollie standing in the infirmary entrance. Her hand instinctively motioned to them to enter, and as they looked at her with big eyes, she wondered what they thought to be bringing her such items as cobwebs and sinew. Delighted, seen that the items she had asked for had indeed been sought out. She bowed her head in thanks to the twin lasses and spoke again with softness of her contolled voice
“Thank Thee mi Dear lasses, I do hope thee will some time ask me as well, to help thee in any way, for all thee have done for me and our Captain. Aye? thank thee.”

The twins seemed to be a bit nervous while they looked at the items she had placed on the table, and she spotted the looks upon their faces as they cast a glance at the prone Captain. *Shaking her head slowly* wondered just what they were thinking, but could nae take the time to question, as they moved towards the door she did nae see if they had stood and watched as she turned her back and quickly set out to work or nae.

She was delighted to see the sinew and even more pleasantly surprised to see the severed tendons of what she thought would have been a deer’s, placed in a salt water basin. Picking up the cloth covered basket, was ever so surprised to see white cobwebs, clean as new fallen snow, and nae full of any spiders or any dust… placing the linen cloth back over the cobweb filled basket and picking up the basin of sinew strips, she quickly took the small knife she kept on her thigh and began to part the sinew into very thin strips, one by one, cutting them and pulling the fibrous tough tentacles into fine thread. She knew this would heal better and cling to the flesh of the captain better than any flax or silken thread she had used prior to this incident. When all was ready she looked up and nodded to Olaf to be ready to take a firm hold of Mister Tyrun should he rise from his unconscious state. Taking off the linen and muslin packing from the wound, picked up the wine jug, that was meant for disinfecting, and dripped the spirits upon the captain’s open chest wound. Working in haste, Threaded the bone needle with sinew in the torch light. she worked quickly making small quick stitches, pinching together the now clean skin together with the other hand, as she worked her way closer to the good man’s heart, she found the sinew ensnared in her own blonde hair, and as she tugged, a few stands of her hair were intertwined with that of the sinew, but she did nae stop her darting dainty s needle’s stokes. The captain would nae have to know he now had the strongest parts of a deer holding his chest together, along with a few strands of her own hair. Knowing this was nae something she had counted on, could nae take the time to undo it. Tying now a knot, once she finished mending together the muscles, and flesh of the horrendous gash, took time to take a breath. As she Dripped over some more of the special wine on the newly stitched breast and side of the captain, she felt her thigh one last time and made the decision to do just what her instincts had told her to do. Took a series of deep breaths as she stood up and leaned over the captain’s body, listening to his heart, and watched his chest rise and fall. Se was seated at the right hand side of the captain, and this was also the worst wound she had seen, on any living man, and now came the hard part…. She looked up to Olaf and with a nod and sighing, asked him now to keep his eyes only upon the captain now, until he seen her work upon the captains arm again.

She had contemplated this next decision long and hard, and knew that this was nae something she had never heard of before, but she had to take a chance as she did nae wish to see the good captain’s arm so disfigured, surely her idea would eliminated the need for such a gruesome scar if indeed her plan succeeded. Rising her skirt, she knew the only place she had where there was a bit of flesh to spare and, a bit of fat was her inner thigh. So, without hesitation now, as she had rehearsed this move in her mind over and over with in the past hour she first took a heft gulp of the most potent wine in her disposal, and taking the small sharp knife and set the blade a hands length above her knee, as she clenched her teeth together pushed the blade in and cut into her own flesh. Making a six-inch incision, and then moving the knife to the other side of the cut, made a parallel slash, an inch in width, and a finger tip deep. Cut each end… and took the strip of skin and set it over and on top of the captain’s gapping wound, concealing now the captains muscles and bones with her own fat and skin. Pulling down her skirt, felt the seething hot pain of the knifes furry… blood ozzing down her leg and over the floor, but she paid no attention as the dizziness began to set in. Before her time was up, she asked Olaf now to hold the four willows sticks around the captain's arm as if making a cage of sorts, while she took the basket of cobwebs and began to pull them apart with swift whirling motions. Wrapped the captains arm around and around with the cobwebs, one by one, matted layer after another covering the now concealed wound and the split al in the cobwebs. As the room began to spin around, she picked up a piece of clean linen and pushed it under her skirts and over her inner thigh… managed to take the jug of wine and slugged down as much as she could… pressing with her hand now over her skirts and the linen while waiting to recover enough to stitch herself up, or hopefully Olaf would see to it that someone helped her if she should nae be able to keep her wits about her…. And she had n idea who else was in the infirmary as the time, for all her focus had been on completing her plan of attack t heal the captain, and nae on anyone else or anything around her. Olaf remained on guard looking down upon the captain, and now as she began to see him as if she were looking though clouds of smoke… took yet another long drink from the jug of wine.

[~Eiluna~]

~... the Fortuna slips into the harbor, skirting the shore to avoid trouble... the GCTC flag flying, Eiluna knowing that it is known by those here... waiting impatiently as they approach the docks, jumping onto them before the ship is fully docked, moving quickly to the castle walls... nodding to a guard as she enters...

...stepping inside the castle, her eyes moving quickly about, sighting a guard she's met before, continuing briskly into the hall as she speaks to him... The infirmary... Tyrun?... as if too many words would delay her.... the guard nods and quickly turns and leads her towards the infirmary... opening the door for her as they arrive, with a look to the guard there to nae ask questions...

...stepping in, immediately locating Tyrun lying 'pon the table... his wounds uncovered and stitched... seeing Lady Laurestina taking a long sip from a jug... and beginning to wobble... Laurestina.... ...moving quickly to her side, slipping an arm around her shoulders, eyes darting in too many directions, looking to Tyruns wounds, needing dressing... to Laurestina's glazed eyes... and then down to the puddle of blood appearing at her foot... seeing tis that which needs her most immediate attention... looking to Olaf, asking... M'Lord... could ye help me? as Laurestina's eyes roll back and she slumps back into Eiluna's arms...

... grateful for his help, placing Laurestina on another table, slowly lifting her skirt as Olaf turns his back... tracing the flow of blood up, up... lifting the linen , gasping as she sees the chunk of flesh missing from her leg... head whipping around to Tyrun, realizing what she has done for him... taking a deep breath, looking for the needed supplies... finding the sinew and strong alcohol, I carefully stitch her up, thankful for the wine she's consumed... thinking how brave she was to do this alone... thankful that at least I arrived in time to help her here....

... covering Laurestina's wound with a bandage... pulling her skirt back down and slowly covering her with a blanket... glancing around the infirmary, seeing all is quiet for now... moving over to Tyrun's side... listening to his breathing, it seems steady enough... inspecting his wounds, and Laurestina's job of stitching... she smiles a bit to see the handiwork... he was in good hands... reaching into her bag to find the salve she brought with her, to hasten healing... applying a light layer over the stitches in his chest... over his arm... running her hand over it lightly, letting it melt and sink in through the covering of cobwebs... gently applying clean cloths and wrapping bandages around them... Tyrun still not stirring...

....turning to Olaf and asking for a chair... hands resting lightly on Tyrun... smiling to him as he brings the chair... leaning in, carefully stroking Ty's forehead and cheek, whispering into his ear... Dun ye leave me now, TyTy... I could nae handle things without ye... she moves to gently kiss his cheek...

...sitting down quietly next to him, keeping one hand on his head... the other on his badly injured arm... closing her eyes and beginning a quiet chant... calling to the Goddess to help....~

[Dream Loxley]

*As all is quiet in the corridors, she is told of the visitor and smiles warmly. Chambers will be prepared for when Eiluna is ready, but for now, she knows where she would find her friend.

Staying silent, she peers from the doorway and looks upon the scene....her eyes filled with concern and compassion for those who have given so much to the injured. They have worked on diligently and without thought for themselves. She simply nodded to herself, glad that another is here to aid Laurestina who must be near to exhaustion.

A smile....a silent thanks sent to them......and she slips away leaving Tyrun and the others in the best possible hands once more.*

((Suberb writing Laurestina!....Welcome Eiluna *S*........I look forward to reading more.))

[LadyLaurestina]

(( Thank you Eiluna...and Dream... will post asap... wow what a cool change in events! I love it...* blows violet goddess dust to you both*...))

[Rayven]

Real time and business travel of late have encroached on my v/t. 'Stina, I am sorry I haven't been here to post sweetie. Hopefully, I will be able to get back into the swing of things shortly. Hopes this short post surfices until then



I adjusted my aching bones and hoped the state of my fatigue would excuse my absence from the infirmary as of late.

As I passed the refectory I could see the sunny garden spread out before me sweet with herbs and flowers. Yellow tansy and blue banks of lavender, white chamomile and nodding foxgloves romped away in the shelter of the high stonewalls giving the men who still resided there a true glimpse of summer in all its glory at Windstorm and perhaps a brief respite from the battle which had raged not far from these walls, for it was a sight to soothe any pain of body or soul.

I gazed once more at the cloudless blue sky, then hurried my feet towards the infirmary.

[Ragnar Olafson A Messenger]

AN ERRAND OF MERCY.

After a hard ride up from the harbour, Ragnar Olafson, Thorgrimm’s personal messenger reined his horse to a halt at the Castle gateway.
After quickly explaining his mission to the guards, he was passed under the portcullis and through to the courtyard within. His mount’s hooves rang loudly on the cobblestones and a groom ran from the stables. Throwing the reins to the lad as he slid from the saddle, Ragnar begged directions to the infirmary.
The Groom pointed him in the right direction and Ragnar hurried off. He had been to the castle once before but still its vastness was confusing, only by asking directions from the guards he passed, did Ragnar finally come to the Infirmary doors.
Strange smells, sounds and odours issued from within as he peered into the room. In the flickering torchlight, he could see the beds lining the walls.
By one such bed a lady sat, her head resting beside the occupant, a large man whose body was covered by many blood-soaked bandages. Behind another bed someone stood silently in the shadows where there rested the form of a sleeping lady.
Ragnar stepped hesitantly into the room, he was about to approach the lady when he heard a footfall behind him, turning quickly he came face to face with yet another lady, he bowed respectfully.
“Forgive me Milady, but I bear a message from my leader, Thorgrimm Halfdane.” The lady waited as he paused to draw breath. “There has been a battle down in the harbour, it is over and we were victorious. There were many wounded. While our healers can help most but there are some eight men whose injuries are beyond even their skills.” Ragnar looked pleadingly to the lady. “Thorgrimm asks if there are any here whose skills are such that they can assist these few badly injured men. I am instructed to wait for a reply and then assist in bringing those men to this place.”
His message delivered, Ragnar bowed deeply and waited with beseeching eyes for the lady’s reply.

[Rayven]

Stiffly I made my way down the corridor, the beauty of the garden fading from me as I headed back to the infirmary. It was then as I rounded the corner that I saw him, his eyes had a woodland gleam in them and he looked tired from his journey.

A painful tension hovered in the air. He bowed stiffly, his long lean face knotted as he lifted his head and drew a breath before speaking.

I listened as he spoke of yet more wounded, dead and dying.

It was then that I turned my eyes towards the entrance of the infirmary expecting to see Laurestina’s kind face emerging from the door to inquire about the stranger and his message of mercy.

My eyes met that of Eiluna and then fell on the still figure on the bed, the full reality of the situation suddenly hitting me head on.

I forced my mind back to the man standing before me.

Tell Thorgrimm to bring his men to Windstorm, we will see to their wounds

I turned and entered the infirmary passing the back of my hand on my forehead. I felt gray and worn and fatigued. I gently placed a hand upon Eiluna’s shoulder and then took a small stool and placed it near Laurestina’s bedside and sat, taking her small hand into mine and prayed.

[~Eiluna~]

~She looked up as the man entered... then past him to see Rayven, meeting her eyes... watching as she spoke to the man... seeing Rayven's weary resolve as she hears the words.... we will see to their wounds....

...she looked around the infirmary... so many sick and wounded already... seeming to be so few healers, or perhaps they are all resting? Sighing softly to herself, thinking of the cost of such battles...

...Eiluna patted Rayven's hand as it gently touched her shoulder... smiling softly to her as she pulled up the stool to sit by Laurestina, speaking softly... We will take care of them...

...looking back to Tyrun, relieved to see his breathing somewhat steadier. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes... knowing she would need whatever rest she could get...~

[Ragnar Olafson]

RAGNAR’S DUTY.

The Lady with the tired eyes had listened quietly as Ragnar Olafson delivered Thorgrimm’s message.
He watched as her shoulders slumped at the mention of the battle at the harbour and of the eight gravely wounded Varangians.
Ragnar thought that she looked so very tired as she turned and glanced around the Infirmary. Almost as though she was seeking someone but finding another in their stead, the Lady drew herself up as if she was drawing together her remaining strength and marshalling her thoughts.
She looked to him and said with quiet restraint.
“Tell Thorgrimm to bring his men to Windstorm, we will see to their wounds.”
Ragnar bowed “I will begin the arrangements for their transport, Milady.”
The Lady turned away and went into the Infirmary.
Ragnar watched her go, then hurried to the stables where he retrieved his horse and rode away to carry her reply down to the harbour.
He arrived back aboard “Valkyrie” only to find that Thorgrimm had also gone to the Castle and that Svien Skildbiter had charge of the dragonships.
Ragnar relayed the Lady’s answer to Captain Skildbiter, who smiled warmly.
“I can see why Thorgrimm puts such trust in you, young Ragnar; you carry out your duties well.” Svien clapped him on the shoulder. “And now I give you another, you are to take charge of ensuring that the wounded men are safely taken to Windstorm Castle.”
Svien assigned a party of Varangians to assist Ragnar and, while the young Viking went to arrange for some waggons, they began to move the badly injured men across from “Aesgard” to the Dock where, wrapped in their cloaks and cushioned with sheaves of straw, they were made as comfortable as could be for the short journey up to the Castle.
Mounting his horse, Ragnar gazed around the small convoy; the other Vikings had swung up onto the waggons, they were ready.
At his order they moved slowly away towards the Castle.
Ragnar tried to hide a grin, small though it was, this was his first command. Thorgrimm Halfdane and Svien Skildbiter had both put their trust in him and he would do his duty.

[Tyrun the Norseman]

Finally, his usual dreams had become too much to bear...

Tyrun awoke, and he viewed a room lit by the silver moonlight. A cool breeze wafted through a window, and his nose told him that the summer was growing old. Closing his eyes again, he struggled to recall where he was. Ah...yes...wounded and hauled up to the infirmary. How long have I been asleep?

His first instinct was to clench both fists, in order to test his strength. The Norseman let out a frustrated grunt when he realized his left hand was nearly useless, but he allowed his right hand to pass over his body in a search for wounds and missing body parts.

Hum...I seem to have enough thread in me to mend a thousand sails. Tyrun recalled how close to death he had been, and he promised himself to reward the skilled healers who had dragged him safely from the gates of Valhalla. By god, I oughtta hire these surgeons...or leastways, get 'em good and drunk. He had seen enough of battle, to know how terrible it was to be a healer after such events.

He tried to sit up, but the pain from his wounds tore at him, and his eyes clenched. Slumping back down on his pallet, Tyrun took a few moments to catch his breath. Bloody hell...I don't think I ever got banged-up this badly! He forced his body to relax, and his breathing settled down.

It took him a few moments to realize that he could still hear the sound of desperate, ragged breathing. The struggle was not his own, but that of the man in the next bed. Tyrun scowled, wishing he didn't have to hear this. His eye opened wide, however, when the other man spoke in a pain-wracked voice.

"Thor...see me to Valhalla safe...and watch over Helder...he's a good lad...give him good winds, aye?"

Tyrun caught his breath when he heard those words. Oh, Thor and Jesus, no! No...Waldur deserves better than this!

Waldur Vodenson had served with Tyrun for many years. An able seaman and a doughty warrior, he was otherwise unremarkable as an employee. But as a man, he always made an impression. He addressed every female as "Milady," whether they were queen of a realm, or a penniless beggar girl. He devoured every one of Torla's meals with gusto, proclaiming that it was better fare that what he was ever given in prison. And he was so proud of his son Helder, who had managed to become captain of his own dragonship. "My boy Helder will bring fame and honor to the Vodenson clan," he always bragged so proudly.

And now, Waldur Vodenson was dying.

Tyrun silently cursed every entity he could think of...every single god...every single Frank...and, above all, himself, for leading this good man Waldur to death.

Taking a deep breath, Tyrun summoned his will, then sat up and turned toward the other bed. The pain nearly caused him to vomit, but he gritted his teeth and reached out to take Waldur's hand. The old sailor squeezed hard, desperate for human contact in his last moments.

Tyrun took a deep breath, and struggled to keep his voice calm. He cleared his throat and spoke in his best 'captain's voice,' authoritative...but still weak.

"Waldur...this is Tyrun...Captain Tyrun." Vodenson's hectic breathing settled a bit, as the familiar voice spoke to him.

Tyrun continued. "You have done a great service to me...and to Zephyr...you'll be welcomed into Valhalla with a red carpet, I think. You're a good man, Waldur. You'll be alright. And I'll see to it that Helder will be alright...he'll make you proud, I know."

Waldur Vodenson squeezed Tyrun's hand. His voice was weak and shaky when he spoke. "Oh, Captain...thank you...yes...I am off to Valhalla. I got stabbed through the guts...I think that's it for me. I'm sorry, I never got that stay-rope fixed. I meant to, but..."

"Your work has always been top-notch, Waldur...nevermind about stay-ropes...your name is immortal now." Tyrun's voice sounded hollow even in his own ears. "You fell bravely...in battle...Valhalla will welcome you." Tyrun had scant faith in the gods...how can any being reward such a sacrifice? But he held Waldur's hand, and placed his clumsy, wounded left hand upon the man's brow. When he spoke, it was quiet and gentle.

"Your name won't die...your son will justify and exhalt your honor...this I vow."

Tyrun held Waldur's hand until the sailor's breathing weakened and stopped....then, exhausted from sorrow, regret, and pain, he fell weakly back onto his bed, and the old dreams overtook him again...