Shadows in the Sun

By: Zephyraria

Chapter III: Merwen

Returning to her chambers, Eowyn found her healer inside, quite at home by a renewed fire. Merwen’s grey head was bent over what looked like a map of the gardens, upon which she made some final notes and presently put aside. 

In her mid forties, Merwen has long been with the Houses, as senior chirurgeon as well as one of the head gardeners.  She made no effort to mask her rapidly graying hair, and her once-raven locks were now liberally streaked with grey.  Eowyn thought it lent her an air of distinction and nobility, which, together with the hawkish nose and glinting sea-grey eyes, completed the image of the noble and all-knowing wisewoman.  The healer stood no taller than Eowyn’s shoulder, but her wiry frame exuded a toughness and a decisive authority that could not be ignored.  She was also gifted with a voice that could lead armies, a voice that, at its most intimidating, has cowed the most intractable of invalids. 

For this precise reason the warden had assigned her to be Eowyn’s overseer, but defying all expectations, the predestined confrontation between the two equally strong-willed women never took place.  Restless and tense as Eowyn was in those days of shadow, she nevertheless found an instinctive respect for the healer, for here was a woman in a city of Kings who earned her power and used it well.  And so Eowyn smiled now, despite the unexpectedness of Merwen’s presence.

“You do not join the revels either, Merwen?” Eowyn asked, as way of greeting.

The healer sat back on the deep velvet cushions and regarded Eowyn with an expectant smile. 

“We are healers,” she said by way of explanation, her low voice rippling with amusement, “they did take Amrael for her song, of course; but the rest of us they left well enough alone.  After this many years one would expect them to know our habits.”

Eowyn decided not to ask who “they” were; it was the healer’s all-inclusive term for the non-House entities. 

“What do you do here, then?”

The smile widened, “Ioreth insisted on conducting the nightly rounds, so naturally she summoned me when she could find no trace of you.”

Eowyn sighed inwardly.

“I suppose you are lucky, however, that she did not discover this –” Merwen continued, pulling out the cloth sling from its hiding place beneath the hearth-rug, “or she would have surely raised the alarm.”

“Hmm…” said Eowyn, looking at the sling, “I was not aware –”

Merwen waved away her rapidly forming explanation.

 “I am not here about that.”

“Good,” said Eowyn, quite righteous now, “this arm is healed, as is this one.  Little wonder, as I’m not allowed to do anything more strenuous than walk in this place; though I suspect most of you would rather I lay abed and complain of nonexistent ailments, just so you would have something to do.”

“So says the ungrateful one;” Merwen breathed a long-suffering sigh, “but I have, through the acuity of my perceptive powers, realized that you lack occupation.”

“What I lack is a horse, and open fields,” Eowyn replied.

Merwen ignored her. 

“That aside, I may have something for you,” she looked at Eowyn with a speculative glance, “Not all the healers are returned to the city; many of our numbers still take refuge in Dol Amroth, and doubtless enjoy the sea-air too well to return with any expediency.  The wounded are many to care for, as always, and the gardens need tending, the herbs to be re-sown.  The Healers find themselves short in numbers.” she said finally.

Eowyn was perplexed, “What are you saying?  You desire my assistance?”

“Desire? Not necessarily,” Merwen replied, with a small shrug which provoked Eowyn greatly, “I would say rather that the decision lies with you.  The arts of healing are a variegated lot, Eowyn, not all of them are doomed to be the task of matronly nurses.  If you have no great love for making bandages or planting flowers, you may come into the sick rooms with me – that is, if you would rather see blood and other such matters of interest.  Should you desire to help – for as I have said, there are too few of us to cope sufficiently at the moment - you shall have the choice.”

Before Eowyn could reply – and in fact she had no reply – Merwen spoke again, “I do not need a response now; the morning will be sufficient.” She smiled wryly, “you may lie awake and consider this for the entire night, if you choose.”

“Alright,” Eowyn managed.

“Until tomorrow, then,” replied Merwen, gathering up her papers and her cloak, already half way out the chamber door, “and remember, I offer only occupation and work for your idleness, not a reinvention of your traditions and ideals.”

 Eowyn wondered what it was about Merwen that rendered her to speechlessness.