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|Subject: The morning after...
Sircyn [long time no see]
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Date Posted: 21:26:04 01/25/03 Sat
The hard crunch of the last night's snow crackled under the general's standard army issue boots. He wore no gloves as they would be nothing but a hinderance in battle and the cold gnawed at icy fingers, his crippled hand aching acutely as he strode along the outer wall. Bleak faced soldiers still sat up here though the order to return home had come in the early hours of the morning. Like Sircyn they stayed because they either had no homes to go to or because they did not want to surrender the wall after the night's events.
In the general's case it was a mixture of the two. His gazed passed briefly over the dishelved men spotting the members his own legion. He inclined his head by manner of a greeting but the sharp movement sent his mind reeling and he stumbled, almost falling. Immediately he was surrounded by the worried figures of his soldiers each offering his seat around the fire. Dropping even the appearance of vitality Sircyn drooped wearily.
"Have you slept tonight?" Merriam inquired.
Sircyn raised his head again. "Have you?"
"I didn't loose as much blood as you," his sergeant replied briskly his eyes flickering to the crimson stained material knotted tightly around the general's upper arm.
"I'm fine." He tried to stand up, his eyes widening slightly as he caught sight of Falden pushed his way purposefully towards him but Merriam pushed him back down gently.
Kneeling beside Sircyn Falden pulled a needle from one of his numerous extra pockets he had sewed onto his uniform to accommodate his medical supplies and started threading a length of undyed thread through its eye.
"Why didn't you go to the healing houses, sir?" he asked concern in his dark eyes.
"Can't stand that place," Sircyn growled as the makeshift bandage was removed and the blood started flowing freely from the deep gash once more. Bowls of boiling water were brought quickly for the men had suspected their general's unwillingness to attend the healers, having encountered it many times before and dispite his grunts of pain the wound was soon closed and bandaged cleanly. A mug of what was Sircyn could only suppose to be tea was placed in his good hand as Falden cleaned his instruments.
"Thanks," he said as the young soldier prepared to leave to get his own breakfast. "Can't stand those prissy healers."
Falden smiled. "It was my pleasure sir."
Sircyn held out the hand not holding the mug which the medic shock firmly causing the general to wince in pain.
A frown crossed the youth's dark face. "You really should've had that hand seen to earlier, sir."
"I know, Falden. You say that everytime."
"It's still true, sir."
"Our medic was killed early on in the War of the Ring. My patrol did what they could. That I can still use the hand is a credit to Riante especially." He looked up at the group of men gathered around the flickering camp fire. "Where is the old rascal anyway? He's usually the one who stiches me up after this kind of thing."
"He was injured during the fighting last night," Falden sighed. "I'm afraid he died just before dawn."
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