Chapter XLI

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Repressed traumas are an absolute joy

TW: Repressed traumas, mentions of pain/injuries, extremely unhygienic soldiers, mentions of blood, Fili is a darling, Gandalf makes questionable decisions.

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Fili and Kili didn't see Raewyn after she had woken up. Kili was transported to his own medical tent for further treatment of his hands, whereas Fili had taken it upon himself to help other surviving fighters clear out the bodies from the field. Raewyn had woken up for short periods of time, only to fall back unconscious seconds later. Even the elvish healers did not know what to make of it, so they ultimately decided to leave her in the hands of the persistent dwarven medics. Days had passed since the last time anyone really saw her, but since her first difficult awakening, Gandalf himself had insisted she'd heal in her own time, without the crowds. No one dared to fight with the wizard, not even the tired prince himself. He was simply glad Raewyn was still breathing - asleep or not.

She had no realistic grasp of time. When she woke, it felt as if she had slept for weeks, but after only seconds of adjusting to the surroundings of the growingly familiar tent, she thought she had simply woken up multiple times in one night. Sometimes, Oín would be beside her to change the bandages. It was awkward for her the first time, even after the old dwarf had insisted he'd seen a lot of naked upperhalfs (and underhalfs) in his years. After only two changes, Raewyn had simply given up on trying to cover herself with a blanket. She was too exhausted to preserve her dignity any way.

When she woke now, she wasn't alone. Directly at the foot of her bed, she could see someone staring at her. She knew it wasn't Oín. He would have announced his presence the second a tired grunt left her lips. "I was starting to wonder if you'd ever wake," the old voice spoke, it's figure now moving groggily to the side of her bed. The fatigue in Raewyn's eyes slowly began to fade, and she found herself staring into the dull grey eyes of an elder dwarrowdam. Her face had been sunken in, her eyes nearly covered from the bags that hung below and above them. A scruffy, untamed grey beard adorned her face as her rope-like hair was tied into one single braid. She had never seen her before.

"My name is Zahrad," she spoke sternly, though her blinded eyes showed some kindness. "I have come at the request of Gandalf." That seemed to put Raewyn's mind at ease. The wizard had only visited her thrice since she awakened, and he would always be gone after she fell back asleep. Not much was spoken between them, but then again - she never felt the need to say much to him. He knew her as well as she did. They didn't need words. They'd be too difficult now.

"I already have a healer that tends to me." Raewyn tried to dismiss politely, her voice aching and scratchy. She winced at the sound of it, then looked back at the dwarrowdam, feeling almost guilty for rejecting her. "Medic." The elder corrected rudely, almost as if she was insulted. When she tried to reach out to the ranger, Raewyn flinched back, wincing as pain shot through her back, making its way into her head. A disapproving sound came from the dwarf as she shook her head: "You Ashas are so stubborn."

Confusion seeped into her bones as she tried to force the pain down, her fingers clenching the blankets on her legs. Squinting her eyes together in agony, Raewyn turned her head to look back at the dwarf. "You knew my family?" "I would hope so," Zharad returned. "I was married into it."

Almost as if her heart had stopped, Raewyn's body froze. For a blind woman, Zharad's eyes were sincere, and her face looked almost content - at peace. As if reminiscing a beautiful memory. "That's not possible." "My husband died in the raid." "You didn't visit his grave."

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