The Hermit Herbalist

Chapter 2 - The Archer & the Herbalist

Clint came to, his eyesight was blurry and his entire body felt like it had been forcefully compressed and then stretched out.  He was also painfully aware of a lingering, stinging pain to the entire left side of his body.  Clint knew what burns felt like, but he could also feel a countering cooling affect.  Clint tested this by tilting his body so that he was leaning more on his bad side.  "Don't move, or you'll undo all my hard work," said a sharp, female voice.  Clint froze, wondering if he got a hot, Asgardian nurse in the Asgardian hospital.  He cracked his eye and when his vision cleared, he saw a wooden wall with plants and hides hanging from them.  It did not seem like something the golden city would have in its hospitals.  Clint tried to open his eyes again when the light hurt too much.  He felt a presence by his side.  He turned his head and the rim of a cup was pressed to his lips.  "Drink slowly.  It will help with your foggy mind," the female voice said.  Clint took a few sips and opened his eyes again.  A figure slowly came into focus.  "Hello, Barton."  Those two words seemed to make Clint's mind as sharp as a tack in merely a few seconds.  Clint's eyes took in the human before him.  She was an unnatural beauty: with sculpted cheekbones, luscious lips, sharp brows, and porcelain skin.  Her eyes were like emerald jewels, sparkling and intelligent.  Her ebony locks fell in thick curls around her oval face.  She was wearing a green shift with a black corset, pushing up nicely sized breasts.  So, Clint did get a hot nurse, his nurse just also happened to be...

"LOKI?!?!?!" Clint exclaimed before he groaned in agony.  

"As I said before, do not unmake all my hard work," she reiterated dryly as she held the cup to Barton's mouth again.  With what little strength he possessed, Clint knocked the cup to the side, and its contents were spilled on the ground.  "And that was just a waste," Loki sighed.

"I won't take anything from you!  I don't want your charity!" Clint hissed angrily.  Loki just looked at him, her expression completely neutral and devoid of even a twitching muscle.

"It was my charity that brought you to my house and put you in my bed.  It was my charity that took care of your wounds.  You already owe quite a bit to my charity," Loki answered him calmly.  She stood up and walked away from Clint.  She picked up the cup he had made her drop, and she approached a cauldron that was over the fire.  She stirred the contents before walking over to a bucket.  She washed the cup, hand dried it, and put it back on a shelf.  She did not say anything to Clint and instead grabbed a piece of cloth she had been darning.  Loki sat herself down and continued to stitch.  Clint knew the material she was working on was thick, as he could hear the needle piercing it every time.  It took Clint a moment to recognize the leather as his Hawkeye duster.  

Glancing around, he saw his boots, undershirt and arms stacked in a corner.  He could still smell smoke and blood from where he was lying.  Loki continued to ignore him in favor of her mending.  Her witch's brew was still bubbling over the fire, but the smell was not repulsive.  Clint propped himself up and started to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.  "You'll be nauseous," Loki stated.  Clint started to stand despite her warning, and sure enough, his stomach twisted and he had to cover his mouth.  He sat back down for two seconds as he tried to will his stomach into submission.  After a few more seconds, he attempted to rise again.  "You'll be dizzy."  Yet again, Loki was right, and Clint dropped to his knees, the action jarring his severely battered body.  As he started to fall forward, strong and soft arms caught him.  Words were said gently in another language as he struggled against her hold.

"Sov barnet mitt, om natten, (Sleep my child, in the dark of night)Lukk øynene dine og avslutt kampen. (Close your eyes and cease your fight)Jeg er her, rett ved din side, (I am here, right by your side)Aldri å forlate deg, til dagen jeg dør. (Never to leave you, till the day I die)Slutt kampen, og sov litt; (End your struggle, and get some sleep)Drømme om steder langt og dypt. (Dream of places far and deep)Følg min stemme så du vil ikke gå bort; (Follow my voice so you will not stray)Mine ord vil lede deg og lyse din vei. (My words will guide you and light your way)Fortsett med veien og du vil være fri. (Hold true to your path and you will be free)Nå i ro, for her er jeg." (Now to your rest, for here I be)

Against his will, Clint felt his eyes close again, and he felt Loki somehow manage to place him back in the bed.  The blankets covered him and Clint felt tapered fingers go through his hair before he heard her retreating footsteps.  Sleep took him quickly, the magic of Loki's words dancing through his mind.  

"You need to leave."  It was that phrase that brought Clint back to consciousness.  He kept his eyes closed and used his ears to catch the nuances of the conversation that had awakened him. 

"But why did you shelter the mortal, Ikol?" the second voice asked, and Clint wondered if 'Ikol' was Loki's alias on this world.

"Because he was injured, and it is my duty to heal all those in pain," Loki responded.  Clint dared to crack his eye open and he saw Loki standing before the door, where a broad shouldered man was leaning.  He was wearing rustic clothes, and was wielding a mighty spear.  Dead critters hung from his belt.

Hunter, maybe? Clint thought to himself.  

"He is mortal!  Their lives are fleeting and not worth much to begin with," the man insisted and Loki's hand went up.

"Kael!  Lives are lives, whether they are mortal or not!  Will you and I not die eventually also?" Loki posed, the displeasure clear in her voice.

"Give or take five thousand years," was the tart response.  Even from where he was lying, Clint could see how quickly Loki's back became ramrod straight; as if the man's words struck a chord with her.   

"I feel obliged to wish you a good day, Kael.  Please escort your dead animals to your own den," Loki said firmly.

"As if you don't hunt to survive.  Or do you turn away the gifts I leave for you?" Kael asked with a smirk.

"Your gifts, as you so smartly call them, have been put to their good uses: feeding the orphans in the village," Loki responded swiftly, and Kael stopped smiling.  "As I said before, a good day to you, Kael," Loki finished, pushing him out the door and closing it with a snap.

"You can't be a free woman forever, Ikol!  You will have to marry some day!" he called through the wood before stalking off.

"Over my dead body," Loki whispered as she turned away.  She paused as she caught sight of Clint watching her from his pallet.  

"Not so secret admirer?" he asked with a hint of a smile on his face.

"Your only concern should be recovering, Mr. Barton.  I will not hear such things from you," Loki retorted, returning to her pot and checking the broth within.  Clint found his eyes closing of their own free will once again.