(514-08-04) A Chapter Finally Closed
Summary: After the battle at Odstock, an injured Sir Acwel makes his way to Ebble Keep where he finds Lysanor aiding in tending to the wounded.
Date: 4 August 514
Related: A Surprising Request, Darkening Horizons, I
acwel lysanor 

Riding to Ebble, itself, is not quite a daunting affair from Odstock. But the ride to Salisbury, in fact, is. Acwel barely made it to Coombe Bisset before he found himself on the back of a wagon riding to the castle, thanks to the generosity of merchants who had seen the brutality visited upon the aforementioned manor. Still, while his wounds may have been bandaged, and he was bleeding a little, they seem to have stabilized, with clots already forming beneath the tightened bandages. When the merchants do arrive to the Castle, with his trusted horse Saint in tow, the Knight of Woodford stands up, carefully leaves the wagon and wanders slowly to the Castle and beyond, where his fellow Salisbury knights might have already been gathering.

After the violent clash against the Dorset invaders, Lysanor has found herself ot be terribly busy. While it is the Lady of the Keep who does the majority of the work, her rank taking precedence over any other there, Lysanor does her best to aid the woman in the matters of tending to the wounds of those injured. At the time of the Knight of Woodford's arrival, the Dinton maiden is finishing bandaging up the bleeding arm of one of the knights who was badly injured in the fight. His chest is wrapped, his midsection and even part of his shoulder with only this final limb that needs to be tended to. "Right now, you surely will need your rest. In a couple of hours, I will return to check upon you, less you feel any great pain beforehand, but the herbs which you have taken should work to calm you and hopefully numb some of the pain which you are feeling now.

Like always in these predicaments, the young auburn-haired healer is stained in blood, her apron smeared with the life force of the men who had fought so desperately against their foes. The braid in which she ad tied her hair in slowly begins to come undone, with several loose tendrils already escaping their bindings. Once she notices Acwel in the distance, she moves forward to greet him. By what she can sense on viewing him alone, he is in need of medical attention, but had he not been here earlier to have the Lady of the Keep look him over, she must wonder. "Sir Acwel de Woodford," A proper curtsy still follows, despite the pain and agony that lingers all around them. With her eyes carefully looking him over even more, she comes to ask, noting that he has already been tended to, "Were you needing your bandages checked or are you feeling any further pain?"

"I believe I am in need of assistance, Lady Lysanor." Acwel is no specialist in such things, but certainly the pain he feels in the compressed bone at his side, as well as the awful sensation of sporting a deep wound complete an overall picture of unwellness. As such, he looks paler than usual and it is a wonder that he is standing at all. "If you would care to help me, I would be in your debt."

To Acwel's words, Lysanor nods slowly. There is this awkwardness between them, or if he does not believe so, she does. This was a man who had asked her to marry him once and while she was honored to have been chose and thought of so highly, the strange aftermath does have her thinking. Not that she can blame him overly so, for her own heart belonged to someone else. Someone whom she had no idea would ever return her affection. Then the days to come have also been strange ones and now with the announcement of his own betrothal, perhaps before she had any true idea of her own. Still, she looks kindly enough to him, even if their eyes do no truly meet. "You honestly shouldn't be traveling around at all, for you need bed rest or else you will make things worse." There is no congratulations brought up regarding his betrothal to her cousin, for that, in itself, would be strange. "Come, please have a seat, so that I may assess the situation further. Your wounds are already tended to, for the most part, so there is very little that I can do buy pray for your health." Even still, she begins to set out some of her own tools of the trade, "And perhaps offer something to further ease some of the pain." Then at some point, she realizes there is tenderness along one of his bones, "Seems that you may be a little worse for wear still. I will try to ensure that this heals correctly." She does not dare mention what would happen if a damaged bone did not set as it should.

There might be awkwardness between Lysanor and Acwel, but as their siblings are about to marry, the latter certainly sees any such inconvenience to be easily pushed aside. He is, after all, marrying one of her cousins as well, someone he does love and cherish. However, whether or not Lysanor feels the same about it or not, it is not for the Woodford Knight to know, or learn, unless she speaks of it. Nevertheless, the knight is courteous with the red haired noblewoman, treating her like a distant sister, but a sister therefore.

He nods once to her words, glancing at the entrance. "I left my horse in the care of a stable hand, thanks be to the merchants that took me here, and to God, of course," as any good Christian would say, "but I shall take your recommendations into consideration, my Lady. I should perhaps sleep before I deign to return to Salisbury, one way or another. I promised my betrothed I would take her to Woodford," the vassal knight replies with a slight smile, though at her request, he does so, taking a seat and removing whatever parts of his tunic might get on the way of a proper diagnosis. The offer for something to abate the pain is given another nod to, his expression shifting a little when she presses along a bone. "Very well, thank you, Lady Lysanor." Then, he adds, as though meaning to make small talk, "I trust you have been well? I heard the news about you and Sir Bryce. My congratulations."

Lysanor checked her chirurgery at 15, she rolled 5.

Going through the motions of undoing some of the man's bandages to inspect each and every one of his wounds before cleansing them and applying a soothing herbal poultice to sections that are still overly tender as she can sense merely by a simple touch, Lysanor works in relative silence. There are things which she ought say, she supposes and it would be rude not to address certain topics, but with how far along things have gone, perhaps it's even more strange to bring them up now rather than sweep it all under a rug and forget the very evening where he desperately summoned her to Sarum just to ask for her permission to wed.

When it comes to the most vital wound on his body, the fractured bone, she makes sure to keep that section stiff with light board of sorts, before wrapping the section up all the more tightly to prevent his posture to fall lax. At the mention of his betrothed, the young woman's brow arches just a tiny bit, though her eyes do not lift to look upon his just now. This was the slight awkwardness which she had been feeling the entire time, the topic never having being brought up since the very first day where Acwel had asked for her hand, though when given the congratulations to her own match, she finally states in a soft tone, "Thank you, My Lord… When you had asked me the first time for permission to wed me, I had told you that I had another in mind. At the time I felt foolish for taking your offer for granted and not knowing whether the one whom I spoke of would ever look upon me with such favor." Continuing to redo his wrap, she continues, "I was thinking of approaching you to give you my decision, seeing as I had not heard word regarding that particular match, but I had seen that you had taken favor with my cousin, so at the time, I thought, perhaps it was unnecessary, if a little… odd, I suppose, for no further words were exchanged between us. And perhaps it was for the best, even though it came as some surprise. Some time later, truths were spoken and for all of my longing, I am pleased to have waited, when at first, I had thought I was a fool to not have accepted your proposal immediately." Her eyes finally lift now, "It would seem that our families are united in more ways than one, with your dear sister marrying my brother as well. I pray that we are blessed and that all of families, united, will continue to thrive and flourish with the love of God."

Perhaps it is Lysanor's subjectivity that perceived the summons as desperate. The memory of that particular occasion is rather hazy for Acwel, but such as it is, he hadn't known his betrothed in such an occasion and therein lies his worries of dying even earlier than his father, with no legacy to leave behind and thus throwing his family in dire straits as a result. But back to the here and now, the patient under Lysanor's care is quiet as she starts examining the various wounds he sported as a result of his defense of a manor that wasn't even his own.

"Ah, yes, I do remember the occasion," Acwel replies, though he is more in the mood of listening. For one, it all seems to be in the past for him; an accident of fate would have him wind up meeting the love of his life in the time Lysanor asked to consider the request, and everything that went down as a result of that led him to this path. He doesn't regret it, and likely cannot apologize for a wrong that hasn't taken place, in his view. She did, after all, mention another individual, and no betrothal had henceforth been announced. "I wish you happiness and love with your match, just as I have found happiness and love with mine. I love Heulwen more than anything in life. And," he pauses when she starts the treatment of his wounds, falling silent after a moment to let her do her work at redoing the wrap. He smiles at the latter words, before continuing, "I pray it is likewise, Lady Lysanor. Your brother will be my brother in law, after all, and I rather like your family's strong sense of justice and morals."

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