Post by Noelie de Maignard (H) on Jan 17, 2010 22:58:52 GMT -5
When I arrived in the City of Elua, I went first to the Temple of Eisheth. Walking up through the beautiful gardens, I felt a sense of peace stealing over me and I was comforted by that more than anything. I missed my father desperately, and even my brothers, though I had only just left them a week past. I had never been out of Azzalle, indeed not further from my estate than a few miles at most, but it seemed as if Elua was somehow urging me to take these steps out of my comfort zone and into life.
I presented the letter my Reynard had given me to the Priestess I found inside, along with a generous donation from my family's estate. The Priestess seemed pleased to have me and we talked for a long time about what I knew of the healing arts, and what I should like to learn. I knew only simple remedies, but she did not make me feel like simpleton for such and I was grateful for her kindness. She asked me to follow her to the infirmary, and I did so with some trepidation on what I would find there.
Not many, only a few people lying abed and one man in a chair by the window. The Priestess excused herself to go speak to one of the young ladies tending to the sick and I found myself drawn to the man by the window. At first I wondered at why he was here, for he seemed hale enough, but as I drew near I was startled to see that one of his legs ended abruptly at the knee. I kept my head, of course, being rather even-keeled, but I did feel the first urge to recoil or to continue walking.
Such is below you, Lulu, I told myself, using the nickname that those closest to me used. At home I had sometimes forgotten that I was even called by another name. The man saw my approach and shook his head even before I arrived.
"I said I did not require else. Leave me." His voice was rough and curt and there was no smile in his eyes, as if there had never been, which I could hardly credit.
"I'm sorry, I did not mean to bother you," I said, though I did not move on, only stood by his chair and followed his gaze out of the window. "The Priestess who was showing me around appears to have left me to my own devices."
"And you decided to bother me? How lucky for me." I bristled at that, but my natural compassion made it hard for me to take offense. After all, he knew me not - how could his anger be truly directed my way?
I laughed softly, and that reaction seemed to surprise him. He looked at me for the first time and scowled.
"Laughing at cripples? I fear you may be in the wrong line of work, my lady." His voice was brittle and I feared that I may have struck a nerve.
"Not at all, my lord. I merely wondered what you might be like if you were truly angry with someone."
He snorted but I felt a thawing in his demeanor, and from that day forth we formed a friendship. I came to see him everyday and little by little I learned his story; a story that I was sure had been repeated by many young men in the recent past. He had lost his leg in the war, in a great battle when his horse had fallen and crushed the limb beneath it. He had recovered and come home to the City, only to find that his lover was not true, and had no interest in what she termed "a man who was less than whole." He might have gone then, but he was stricken with the plague, from which he almost did not recover. It seemed he had been well for some time, but had not the heart to leave the Temple, hurt as he was by the hand life had dealt him.
Eventually he did leave, and on that day I was happy and sad at the same time. I had found a niche for myself at the Temple, and learned many things, not the least of which was friendship with this young soldier. Before he left, he gave me a gift: a locket with his picture and inside a folded note.
Lulu,
When I met you, I was bitter and angry ... I had given up on the world. The time we spent together taught me that even if one person was false, there were others of kindness and integrity in the world. You will never know what your patience and compassion has wrought, and I hope more than anything that I am able to go out into the world and share that with others. Thank you, Lulu, for everything."
Amadio
The note brought tears to my eyes, and as I stood at that very same window where I had first met Amadio de Cevois, I saw him mounting his horse, his crutches affixed to the saddle in an ingenious manner of his own devising. He turned back, as if he could sense me there, and waved and I waved back, knowing in my heart that I had done exactly the right thing by coming here, and that my father would have been proud.
I presented the letter my Reynard had given me to the Priestess I found inside, along with a generous donation from my family's estate. The Priestess seemed pleased to have me and we talked for a long time about what I knew of the healing arts, and what I should like to learn. I knew only simple remedies, but she did not make me feel like simpleton for such and I was grateful for her kindness. She asked me to follow her to the infirmary, and I did so with some trepidation on what I would find there.
Not many, only a few people lying abed and one man in a chair by the window. The Priestess excused herself to go speak to one of the young ladies tending to the sick and I found myself drawn to the man by the window. At first I wondered at why he was here, for he seemed hale enough, but as I drew near I was startled to see that one of his legs ended abruptly at the knee. I kept my head, of course, being rather even-keeled, but I did feel the first urge to recoil or to continue walking.
Such is below you, Lulu, I told myself, using the nickname that those closest to me used. At home I had sometimes forgotten that I was even called by another name. The man saw my approach and shook his head even before I arrived.
"I said I did not require else. Leave me." His voice was rough and curt and there was no smile in his eyes, as if there had never been, which I could hardly credit.
"I'm sorry, I did not mean to bother you," I said, though I did not move on, only stood by his chair and followed his gaze out of the window. "The Priestess who was showing me around appears to have left me to my own devices."
"And you decided to bother me? How lucky for me." I bristled at that, but my natural compassion made it hard for me to take offense. After all, he knew me not - how could his anger be truly directed my way?
I laughed softly, and that reaction seemed to surprise him. He looked at me for the first time and scowled.
"Laughing at cripples? I fear you may be in the wrong line of work, my lady." His voice was brittle and I feared that I may have struck a nerve.
"Not at all, my lord. I merely wondered what you might be like if you were truly angry with someone."
He snorted but I felt a thawing in his demeanor, and from that day forth we formed a friendship. I came to see him everyday and little by little I learned his story; a story that I was sure had been repeated by many young men in the recent past. He had lost his leg in the war, in a great battle when his horse had fallen and crushed the limb beneath it. He had recovered and come home to the City, only to find that his lover was not true, and had no interest in what she termed "a man who was less than whole." He might have gone then, but he was stricken with the plague, from which he almost did not recover. It seemed he had been well for some time, but had not the heart to leave the Temple, hurt as he was by the hand life had dealt him.
Eventually he did leave, and on that day I was happy and sad at the same time. I had found a niche for myself at the Temple, and learned many things, not the least of which was friendship with this young soldier. Before he left, he gave me a gift: a locket with his picture and inside a folded note.
Lulu,
When I met you, I was bitter and angry ... I had given up on the world. The time we spent together taught me that even if one person was false, there were others of kindness and integrity in the world. You will never know what your patience and compassion has wrought, and I hope more than anything that I am able to go out into the world and share that with others. Thank you, Lulu, for everything."
Amadio
The note brought tears to my eyes, and as I stood at that very same window where I had first met Amadio de Cevois, I saw him mounting his horse, his crutches affixed to the saddle in an ingenious manner of his own devising. He turned back, as if he could sense me there, and waved and I waved back, knowing in my heart that I had done exactly the right thing by coming here, and that my father would have been proud.