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Healing Song

Tags: Galadriel,  Laraniel,  Sulgirion

Short Summary: The Lady Galadriel and Laraniel tend to Sulgirion's talon.
Date (real-life): 2010-09-22
Scene Location: Meadow outside Beo Village

============== Lord of the Rings Calendar <in English> ==============
IC time is:    Early Afternoon < About 3:33 PM >
IC day is:     Sunday
IC date is:    January 1
Moon phase:    New  <NOT VISIBLE>
Earendil:      Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is:    Third Age 3051
RL time:        Wed Sep 22 19:31:14 2010

Meadow of Clover
You stand within a wide meadow covered in low, sweet-smelling clover. A myriad of bumble bees fly about busily, and a cool wind stirs from the north across the field, creating fast moving rippling effects that swirl about you. As you look about, you see to the south a high, thorny hedge encircling a massive oak structure. There is no way through the hedge, that you can see. To the north is a road running west towards the Anduin and east towards Rhovanion. To the west is a thicket of woods, two large elm trees arch across a small opening leading within.

The murky sky is overcast and dreary. The early afternoon winter air is cold and dry around you. The moon is new.

Obvious exits:
 West leads to Graveyard.
 South leads to Thorny Hedge.
 North leads to Anduin Road, East of Village.

It is mid afternoon, and yet no rays of sunlight break through the blanket of gray clouds overhead. A chilly wind flows over the meadow, churning winter-deadened grasses and other vegetation into ripples. But there is more than just foliage here, for there in the middle of this field stands a ten foot tall bronze shape; Sulgirion has come again, and just as before his body is hunched over slightly, wings hanging open and low like curtains as though to warm himself. The eagle's head is downward.

[Galadriel(#19278)] Two figures - elves by their garb - come into the meadow from the road. The long grass barely moves at their passing despite long cloaks that trail behind. They move with a purpose, eyes fixed on the eagle ever since leaving the road. One, a hood concealing her face, carries a basket, her hands hidden in her sleeves. She speaks quietly with Laraniel who walks beside her.

Laraniel speaks to the hooded elf lady, explaining the injuries which she has witnessed upon the eagle's, Sulgirion's, talon.

The great bird makes no sign as the pair approach, though presently a shiver rakes his form, quivering a collection of feathers. At last Sulgirion raises his golden head, but his gaze flicks past the Elves to look up: and indeed the series of squawks and caws that emerge from his beak seem almost to be addressed to the sky. "<Eagle> It still burns like ice. Is this reward, Giver of Gifts? I desire it no longer!" He trembles again, but finally the amber eyes leave the heavens to peer long upon the newcomers to the meadow as they draw nearer.

[<#19278>] No others are present. The Lady reaches up with slender hands to lower her hood to her shoulders. Gold tresses tumble forth and seem to shine despite, or in defiance, of the cloudy sky. Galadriel's face is grave and sad as she looks upon the mighty bird. "<Eagle> Peace, brother." Beauty and mourning marry as the Lady responds to the Eagle in his own language. "<Eagle> It is no reward that you deserve." She hands her basket to Laraniel to hold and then moves closer to Sulgirion, without fear or pause, until she is within arm's read of his great golden form. She tips back her head to look up at him.

"You have come," says the eagle in Westron after a moment, watching as the Lady steps forth, and he gives a nod of thanks to Laraniel. "I am glad to see word has found you. I would ask of you, my Lady," and Sulgirion straightens a little, letting his wings reveal his claws, "healing...the right foot feels lifeless, and cold." And upon that talon, scars can be seen.

Laraniel from the basket given to her, Laraniel hands to the Elf Lady bandages and ointment to apply to the vicious wound that she sees before her.

Galadriel drops at once to the ground, her cloak and skirts billowing out around her to form a pool of midnight hues upon the ground. The sight of the scars seems to give her a kind of urgency and without hesitation she lays a hand upon one of the razor-tipped toes. It is diagnostic only - testing the hardness of the scar tissue, the depth of the original cuts and the new skin that is growing. A thoughtful 'hmmm' escapes the firstborn healer and she stands again, moving back towards Laraniel and the basket. She accepts the bandages, but shakes her head at the ointment. "Not yet. That, in the clear bottle." The Lady turns and looks back up at the Eagle, "This is going to sting a little."

Meanwhile, in all the whirling of fabric and elven urgency, Sulgirion observes with tilted head, letting his claw be handled and inspected. At Galadriel's warning, he bobs his neck in an avian nod. "Not as bad, I imagine, as it would feel if this was not cured. I am ready."

Laraniel surveys the wound which the Elf Lady is healing ... it is very raw ... she is consumed by the eagle's bravery, and warmy and compasionately smiles at the eagle, in an attempt to indicate that everything will be well.

[Galadriel(#19278)] The Lady coats the bandages with the clear liquid. The outside of the bottle has no indication as to what the insides might be, but she takes little care with it; sloshing some upon the ground, some upon her hem. She then returns to the eagle and kneels down, slightly to the side, hopefully out of the direct line the great talons would take, should the eagle wince. "We must reopen the wounds somewhat, to release the...toxin." She chooses the word carefully, perhaps unwilling to give it a more specific name. "Then we will heal..." With that she presses the bandage upon the worst of the scars. Indeed it would burn! There is a faint fizzing noise and little bubbles rise up from the scars.

Burn indeed, and there is a near instant reaction from the eagle. The Lady did well in moving out of the way, for as the liquid hisses and bubbles, Sulgirion's massive claws clench into the dirt, and the one that is not covered in the bandage rends several gashes into the earth. "Do whatever you require," the beak manages to clack the words, and the great bird shivers slightly -- though this time in the effort to remain still despite the pain.

Laraniel shudders! She too feels the pain of the eagle. The wound is much worse that she had first supposed. She is relieved by the presence of the Elf Lady, whom she knows to be a great healer among her kind.

[Galadriel(#19278)] A hole is rent in the fine felted fabric of Galadriel's cloak for her troubles, but she pays it little mind. At last she pulls the bandages away. The wounds rise up red and swollen, but they are clean. The breeze quickly cools the burning sensation, though the pain of the wounds certainly remains. "Now," says Galadriel, "You may apply the ointment, Laraniel. It will ease the pain and keep dirt away." She gestures for Laraniel to bring the salve from the basket, and then reaches into her cloak to produce a small, intricately carved flute.

The bite of the talons eases slightly as the bandage is removed, and the raptor peers down upon the revealed wounds, canting his head from side to side to see them better. And then his bright eyes rising once more, he watches the pair go about their work, though his amber gaze does glance curiously as the flute emerges.

Laraniel applies the ointment from the salve to the wound of the eagle, which she can see eases the eagle's pain which pleases her. Once the ointment is applied, she turns to watch the Elf Lady perform with her flute.

[Galadriel(#19278)] "Close your eyes, Guardian," Galadriel's voice is songlike even in the coarse common tongue. She is seated upon the ground near the wounded foot. "The salve will start working in a moment. Then we will leave you be and you may go where you please." She then puts the flute to her lips as if she were just looking to pass the time and blows a few tentative notes to see how they carry on the grassy expanse. She then begins a tune - it is slow but merry, like one were taking a walk in a quiet wood (or taking a leisurely flight). The notes rise into the air, making their way up the length of the great bird. For such a small instrument, the sound seems to reverberate; like one were breathing the notes and not just hearing them. It is a song that both comforts and enlivens....

The ointment does help the discomfort, and the quivering of the feathers relaxes somewhat. Sulgirion closes his eyes as he is bidden, holding still again as best he can. For a long moment remains that way, stiff as stone, listening carefully. And perhaps the enlivening and melodious tunes from the Eldarin flute have the power to instill other things into the minds of those who hear them: the eagle's wings flutter a little, as if the vision of a flight has been woven into his imagination.

Laraniel is relived to see the the eagle in a calmer state, as this will aid the healing, as well as the Elf Lady's beautiful song. She looks to the skies, as the song is sung, feels the suns warmth thoughout and gleefully surveys the scene before her.

[Galadriel(#19278)] As the flute song continues, it seems to quiet till it is naught but a notion, something you think you might hear but can't quite place. The melody is akin to a lullaby: sweet, warming, but in truth meant for easing an unquiet mind. Images of rustling leaves, green valleys, and safe moutain retreats spring unbidden into the mind's eye. It is cause for taking deep breaths, for hearing one's own blood in the veins, and - as the song ends - for opening clear eyes as if for the first time upon vibrant colors and resonant details. Galadriel lowers the flute and slowly comes to standing before the Eagle. She glances at Laraniel and smiles.


And the faint fluttering motion of the wings slows and ceases as the song comes to it's end. There is a long pause of silence, before the great bird gives a sign of life and the amber gaze looks out upon the real world once more. His feathered chest rises and falls in a deep breath, and if avian mouths could smile, it is likely he could be offering one. "It does not feel dead," says Sulgirion, testing the claw by moving a few of the toes. "It throbs still, but the worst seems past."

[Galadriel(#19278)] The Lady smiles in response to the Eagle's words. But there is more upon her countenance as well: weariness not the least. And her eyes, those ancient sea-colored eyes, they harbor a trouble that is hard to pinpoint and perhaps all the more pronounced for the great fatigue that covers her like a cloak. She presses her lips together, disappearing the smile, and lifts a hand to her forehead. "I am glad," she replies with utmost sincerity. "The wound was more grievous than I thought." She looks up at the windlord in an attempt to meet the gaze of one who can see for miles, many questions writ upon her face though she speaks none. She only says again, quietly, "I am glad."

The eagle's head tilts anew at the signs of worry and weariness, but he does not comment on them. Instead he straightens himself, offering a low nodding of his neck. "I thank you both, for what you have done for me. I do not wish to think about the things that could have happened if it was left untended to. Now I shall rest and see what the morning brings." Stepping back a pace, Sulgirion flings wide his massive wings, and with a blast of wind he is off into the sky. "Farewell!" A caw slips from his beak in departure.

Date added: 2010-09-22 23:33:06    Hits: 73
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