Treatment

[Directed by M. Night Shyamalan]

Farrel staggered over to the infirmary. He gasped in pain again, and hobbled to the bed. He lay down, closed his eyes, and fell asleep imediatly.

[Tirael]

Tirael helped Farrel to one of the infirmary beds, making sure he lay down carefully. The otter then turned and hurried to get a sleeping draught, saying as he did, "Alright, it's gonna be alright, just drink this and..." He turned and saw Farrel already asleep. Sighing, he moved over and force-fed him the potion. It wasn't a bad thing, actually; he could get to work a lot faster. Taking a deep breath, he gathered what he needed and set to work.
______________________________

After a long while, it was done. The otter healer carefully finished stitching up Farrel's gut, cutting the extra thread and tying it off. Making sure he had done the work as best he could, he nodded to himself and cleaned his paws. It had been a long while since he had treated anything like this, and it never pleased him to, but at least he had done well. Placing a dampened cloth over Farrel's forehead, he sat on the next bed over and looked at his patient. It wouldn't be long before he woke up, and while the otter knew he would hurt for awhile, it was better than dying. Maybe when he woke up, he could divulge exactly why he had an arrow in his gut in the first place.

[Directed by M. Night Shyamalan]

Ugh, drowsy. All Farrel could see was black. Then he opened his eyes. He saw a rose red rock cealing.

Where am I? Farrel thought. Then, Oh yeah, the abbey. Great! He sat up, and his burning stomach said otherwhys. He looked around, and saw the otter sitting next to him.

"Thanks for fixing me up mate."

[Tirael]

Tirael came out of his thoughts as his unfocused eyes registered movement. Farrel sat up and looked around, much to the infirmary keeper's dismay. Hurriedly standing, he placed a paw on the marten's shoulder and gently pushed him back down. "You have stitches on your stomach, it'd be best if you lay still for awhile."

"Thanks for fixing me up mate."

The otter gave him a small smile and nodded, replying, "Just doing my job." Making sure Farrel would be comfortable enough, he began attending to the various infirmary chores he had been in the middle of doing when he was summoned. As he worked, he could not resist asking, "So how were you injured, anyways? Who shot you?" Inwardly, he winced at how direct he was; he had never really spoken to Farrel, he shouldn't pry like that. After a moment, he added, "That is, if you care to say." A handy little save, he thought.

[Directed by M. Night Shyamalan]

"No problem mate. Where to begin? Well, I'm a vermin hunter, I come from the southern isles, torn by the great vermin wars. We fled and grew into tribes, vermin hunting tribes to keep mossflower clean.

Anyway, there was two vermin hordes, and apparently they had a little problem. Anyways, soon they were going ayt it with everything they got. Ant me, I decided to join in on the fun, and started cutting up a scum by the edges. then I got cocky and went in deeper and fought a captain, he was not bad. I think i got 'em, but I got shot by an archer, I threw a dagger at him and got him good, but i had to leave. I got out of range, broke off the shaft, and bandaged the wound. I was lucky, my crossing belts where hit right where they meet. It stopped most of the the arrows force. I little closer, And I would have never got 'ere.

[Tirael]

Tirael hadn't quite expected Farrel to be this open; never had a stranger come out to him like this. Caught a little off guard, he listened bemusedly to the story, nodding here and there throughout. At the end, he said as he finished wiping off a jar, "It's a good thing you managed to get here, it saved your life." Uhh...OBVIOUSLY! his mind said at him, but he ignored it. He was just trying to make conversation. Knowing that what he had said didn't really merit a response, he continued his work silently for a few moments before managing, "So...what's your, uhh, what's your plan now? I mean, after you recover." He said the last part a little emphatically. He wasn't letting Farrel go off somewhere before he was sure he would live through it. Of course, he couldn't really muster much opposition to what others wanted, but he could try.

[Directed by M. Night Shyamalan]

"Oh, i guess after I get better, I'd like to stay here a night or two, sample your famus food maybe, and head off to do some cleaning work." Farrel leaned back on his bed and sighed happily.

[Tirael]

"Oh, I guess after I get better, I'd like to stay here a night or two, sample your famous food maybe, and head off to do some cleaning work."

Tirael raised an eyebrow at this. "Cleaning work? What do you mean by that?" Cleaning work could have any one of a variety of meanings; sweeping the dormitory stairs, or killing somebeast before they kill you. Hopefully, the otter thought, it's the first, though he doubted that a pine marten would be cleaning the Abbey anytime soon. Trying not to tense up, he unintentionally stared at Farrel as he awaited his reply.

[Directed by M. Night Shyamalan]

Farrel chuckled inwardly at his interpetation of cleaning.

"No mate, I mean clean some vermin up from mossflower. That's my job, I also might head back home and kill the invaders. Farrel popped a candied chestnut into his mouth, chewed, and relished the flavour. Turning over to Tirael, he asked.

"So, what do you do mate?"

[Rocky]

"So, what do you do mate?"

"I think it's self explanatory.'' A voice said from the doorway. It was a voice belonging to none other then the Skipper. Rocky was garbed in normal clothing and his only weapon on him right now was the long dagger in the sheath by his boot. He wore a v-neck, sleeveless black shirt to match his fur, with red hemmings on the edges. His pants were normal pants, black and baggy, just how the skipper liked it.

Rocky glanced at Farrel and winked at him then walked in the room, breathing slowly so he'd adapt to the different smell wafting through the air. ''Self explanatory as in the way he's dressed.'' Rocky continued, then threw up his hands to show he was joking and didn't mean any harm to the pine marten.

Rocky looked again at Farrel and noticed a taping along his abdomen and presumed a fight broke out with him and another. Rocky winced inwardly as he recalled his fight with another beast. That beast that poisoned him when he protected Tampa.

''How's it goin' Tirael?'' Rocky asked, his gaze moving back to his friend. He patted Tirael on the back then took a seat in the bed across from Farrel. ''Haven't seen a pine marten in a long time.'' The skipper said, smirking. He looked Farrel up and down, sizing him up. The marten looked like a competent beast, definitely able to hold his own in a fight.

''As I was walking down the hall,'' Rocky began, ''I couldn't help but stop and over hear part of your story..'' The otter's gaze locked with Farrel's, ''and I have a question. Why do you give other species like the name 'vermin'.''

[Directed by M. Night Shyamalan]

"Have you ever noticed how martens are no where near as common as a rat, or stoat? Martens all come from the southern isles, and verminous ones, are sent in exile. Most of the bad martens around here are from, or relatives of exiles from the isle." Farrel cocked his head and said.

"You look like an otter chieftain, a skipper right?"

[Tirael]

"So, what do you do mate?"

The question caught Tirael off-guard. Not because it was private or invasive or anything, but because it was so...bizarre. He had been called down when Farrel needed medical attention, he had done surgery on him, he was doing various chores around the infirmary; did that leave the possibility that he was a soldier? A cook? Gaping at Farrel, the question was soon answered for him.

"I think it's self explanatory.''

The otter healer looked up and grinned as he saw Rocky standing in the doorway.

''Self explanatory as in the way he's dressed.''

Tirael's grin turned to a look of confusion as he looked down at his habit. Wondering how that made it obvious that he was a healer (though the notion should have been for other previously implied reasons), it took him a moment to realize that the Skipper had meant he was an Abbeybeast. Or at least, that was what he took it to mean. Whatever, he could think about it later, and he was pretty sure that Rocky had said something else.

''How's it goin' Tirael?''

The grin reappearing on his face, the otter in question said, "I'm alright, feel pretty good about-" he indicated Farrel "-this one's surgery, so I guess I'm doing well." He then resumed his work, though he repeatedly stole glances at the interaction between Rocky and Farrel. He knew Rocky had had a rather...unpleasant past regarding vermin, and if he made a wrong move, the healer knew any delay in his action could mean injury, or worse, death. But in the meanwhile, he simply maintained a semblance of polite detachment.

[Rocky]

"Have you ever noticed how martens are no where near as common as a rat, or stoat? Martens all come from the southern isles, and verminous ones, are sent in exile. Most of the bad martens around here are from, or relatives of exiles from the isle."

"Martens are common to any vermin, because most of them are." Rocky winced inwardly for his choice of words. They were something he hadn't thought through, fully, so he continued, before Farrel could get angry, ''Though, the ones that fight for good are usually the better fighters and generally some of the kindest beasts I've come to know. You, I believe, are one of the better good martens.'' A smile appeared on the skipper's face.

"You look like an otter chieftain, a skipper right?"

Those words made a feeling Rocky hated, return. ''Aye.'' He managed as his mind traveled back in time to that day long ago. Few knew Rocky's past and the way he became a skipper, and that was the way he intended to keep it. In fact, Tirael knew Rocky's past and probably knew how Rocky came by becoming an otter chieftan. Rocky called it cowardice, and he was always kicking himself down for it, but others said he did the right thing.

He eventually sighed, his mind coming back to the present and he found himself nearly telling Farrel, a stranger, his full past, ''I became a skipper when there was a..'' he trailed off, realizing what he was getting at. He mumbled an apology and looked up at his friend, as he spoke.

"I'm alright, feel pretty good about-" "-this one's surgery, so I guess I'm doing well."

''Oh.. Surgery, eh? Glad it was a success.''

Rocky looked back at Farrel and winked, ''You better be glad that Tirael's taking care of ye. 'E's one o' the best.''

He looked at Tirael then back to Farrel's abdomen, the spot where he presumed, by the bandages, was the spot where the marten was hurt. ''So, wot happened, mate? Ya get a a sword wound, or did you get shot?''

[Directed by M. Night Shyamalan]

"Shot. Some archer fired at me, got me in my belt, and that saved me. The belt slowed it, and i was only partially wounded." Got the scum with a dagger, then came here." Farrel stretched, and drew his twin blades.

"These beauties have slain more vermin than some battles mate." Farrel looked at the luminous green pommel stones, and smiled in strange joy at their sight."

[dirgecallers]

Lentle Dirge winced as he sat up in the infirmary bed. The kind creatures of the abbey had indeed taken pity upon his plight and taken him in. It was obvious that they did not regard him as a threat, so for the moment, at least he was safe. They had taken his quarterstaff away, of course, and were probably even now examining it amongst themselves.

The treatment he had recieved had been most generous for a species oft regarded as 'vermin.' The medics and other beasts had been attending his injured leg, and had fixed a sort of cast around it. He had been told then, that it would take weeks, if not months to heal. He had inwardly smiled then, for he could use that time to show them he was no threat. For now, he intended to make the most of his asylum here in the abbey and mayhap get to know the beasts here. He was particularily interested in any sort of scrolls or histories Redwall might possess, for they would add much to his knowledge.

He tired of this contemplation however, and observed the other beasts in the room. Opposite him in another bed, sat a Pine Marten. Conversing with the Marten were two otters, one short and slender, the other muscular and burly. He guessed the first otter was some kind of nurse, and the second was a warrior, perhaps a cheiftain. They seemed rather engrossed in their talk, and for the moment Lentle did not want to disrupt their conversation.

Not that it was not an interesting conversation to overhear. Lentle thought it was odd, that another overseas traveler should end up here in Redwall Abbey. He noticed something though, the beast had drawn two daggers out of his belt. Funny...he thought, that they should have allowed the Marten to keep his weapon when they had taken his. Then the really odd thing struck out at him, and he could not keep silent.

"Jade tips, or is it Emerald? How long has it been since I have seen either?"

(done)

[Tirael]

''You better be glad that Tirael's taking care of ye. 'E's one o' the best.''

The compliment made Tirael look away in embarrassment. For some odd reason, compliments always had that effect on him, despite however pleasing it was to receive them. Grinning abashedly, he resumed the last of his here-and-there work around the infirmary, by now simply putting things away and straightening out this and that. As he worked, he listened to the conversation, glancing over occasionally. Looking up at one point, he froze as he saw Farrel draw two swords. In his infirmary. In Redwall. Not a good combination.

"Uhh...Skip?" Tirael gestured towards the swords with his eyes and a slight tilt of the head. He didn't yet have a reason to distrust the marten, but a sword was a weapon, and nobody really knew Farrel. The healer was just glad that Rocky was around: nobody else in the room would really be able to defend themselves (the fact that Farrel was still recovering from a dangerous operation did not click with his reasoning).

[Directed by M. Night Shyamalan]

((Hi dirgey, oh, and, they're swords. not knives.))

Farrel noticed an Ermine sitting on the other bed. Puzzled why he had not noticed him before, he answered.

"Neither, tis a rock found only in the Southern Isles. Tis called Green Firestone, one of the most beautiful there is." Farrel saw the uncomfortabel looks of Tirael, and put his twin longswords away into his sheaths.

"Sorry about that. Anyway, Tirael isn't it? Do you know when I will be able to get up and walk around again?"

[Rocky]

Rocky took in everything being spoken to him. He stored it away, keeping it in his head, in case he'd need it at any other time in his life. He nodded in approval and couldn't help but grin as Farrel told of killing the vermin archer. ''One less vermin is better then one more, eh?''

He turned his head and looked at Tirael for a quick glance as he went to speak but then his eyes shot back to the marten and his paw traveled down his leg, going for the blade there, not sure of what to do, since he didn't know this creature fully.

"Uhh...Skip?"

Rocky just stared at Farrel, his paw slowly going down towards the dagger, then nodded as if he knew what Tirael was saying.

Then Farrel sheathed the blades and Skip moved his paw back to his side. He didn't say anything, only had a puzzled look on his face. Was this marten so attracted to his blades that he had to pull them out while he lay wounded? He kept a straight face, showing nothing of his thoughts, and looked back to Tirael and mouthed, ''No worry''. The way Rocky moved and looked at the infirmary keeper made it so that Tirael was the only one knowing what Rocky was saying.

[dirgecallers]

"Well, that was anticlimatic", commented Lentle. He had been sure that the woodlanders would have tried to restrain the marten, or otherwise DO something. Instead they had just sat there and gaped. That was bad precedent, for if they could be struck dumb by a trivial move like that, how could they possibly be prepared for a bigger surprise?

His foot throbbed again, probably from all the 'suspense'. Lentle knew how long it would likely take to heal it but there seemed no harm in asking the obvious. "How long will my leg take to heal fully?" He addressed this last comment to the slenderer of the two otters, the one that had seemed like a medic.

"Come to think of it, I may be in here for a longer time." Lentle said, almost immediatly. "In that case, may I request that reading material be brought to my bedside that I may have something to ponder whilst I wait for the healing of my injuries? I ask not for your vital records, but merely for the books of poetry and mighty deeds that I know must be in such a place as this."

(done)

[Tirael]

Tirael swished his rudder nervously as he watched Rocky's paw move slowly toward a dagger at the Chieftain's side...and then relax as Farrel sheathed his own swords. He gave a weak smile as Rocky mouthed "No worry" to him. Though he trusted the Skipper's judgment, there was no way he was going to stop worrying just yet.

"Well, that was anticlimatic."

He couldn't explain it, but the infirmary keeper found himself slightly angered by this. Did Lentle want disaster in the room, a place that was supposed to get rid of the products of fighting? The young otter found it almost insulting.

"How long will my leg take to heal fully?"

Suppressing his irritation at Lentle, Tirael spoke flatly. "Well, i-"

"Come to think of it, I may be in here for a longer time. In that case, may I request that reading material be brought to my bedside that I may have something to ponder whilst I wait for the healing of my injuries? I ask not for your vital records, but merely for the books of poetry and mighty deeds that I know must be in such a place as this."

As Lentle cut him off, the otter blinked in surprise. This ermine had to be the rudest beast he'd ever met! As Lentle set out his "request" (which sounded much more like a command), Tirael found himself dwelling on the phrase "I ask not for your vital records..." Not that Redwall really had any vital records, but why was the ermine defending his request before it was questioned? Smelling something fishy, the otter said through slightly clenched teeth, "I'll see what I can do," and racked his brain for the most boring volume he could remember reading. If he couldn't deny Lentle's request, he could at least bore him half to death...