Participants:
Candamon
A small vixen (temped by Curanolas)
Dawn, Forest Path, Imladris
Youthful trees spread their slender limbs in anticipation of the mature grandeur of the deep forest, widely spaced though clustering in greater profusion in a gradual sweep upwards to where in the distance mighty trees challenge the sky. A hand other than nature has ordered saplings into long rows north of the path. They seem to leap from amidst shrubs and wildflowers as if eager to speak to their ancient brethren. With the season of Fading, the replanted saplings mature into beautiful shades of brown and orange, red and yellow. The other plants brown, beginning to go dormant to wait out the winter.
The starry pre-dawn sky above the cliffs is mostly clear with light, puffy clouds scattered about. The Misty Mountains loom against the sky in the east, shadows against the stars. Occasional clouds float across the first quarter moon as it hangs over the valley. Its glow makes the cliffs all around stand out in the night, and they seem to illuminate the valley all the more.
The sun has not topped the valley walls and likely won't for some time yet, but light reaches here none the less as the cliffs glow pales the trees. The path rises into the woods and descends toward the valley - Candamon takes its descent, moving quietly down toward the house.
A small vixen sits in Candamon's path. She seems to be favoring one forepaw over the others. She pauses and looks up at the ellon warily, snarling slightly in warning.
Candamon had spotted the creature and slowed, then stopped when it did not move from the path. "Mae govannen, rusc...." he says low-voiced, as if more for the sounds than the words, and settles slowly back and down onto his heels. His eyes watch the vixen closely, intently.
Backing a few steps, the vixen watches the ellon, ears folding back and popping up as she does so. She lets out a hiss, warning the ellon she does not wish to be messed with. Her wide eyes blink quickly.
"Aie, that looks like it hurts...." Candamon's eyes brush over the fox's face and catch the limp. "What happened?" He speaks very quietly, his voice pitched deep, and in the tongue of his childhood. "Will you let me see?" His right hand rests now on the path in front of him, fingertips brushing the dirt, its back toward the vixen.
A small vixen skips back, whimpering slightly at the hurt paw. She eyes the ellon on the path, more curious now than wary.
Candamon's lips purse slightly as he watches the limp. "Do you have something in it?" he asks, tone as before. He does not look directly into the vixen's eyes, but he does keep his on her, watching each movement closely. "If I can see, maybe I can make it better...." His fingertips brush the dirt of the path - left, then right, then still again.
A small vixen pauses on the path taking a wary step forward. She whimpers sightly as she hobbles on the hurt leg. She blinks and licks at an open wound. Obviously, something's snagged her and caused her to bleed.
"Ah." Candamon looks at her licking the paw. "Well, that is not so bad. I know it hurts, though." As he speaks, he very slowly settles back so that he is sitting, knees up, back against the bole of an oak next to the path. "You know your way - licking it will make it better faster. I could only bind it, and--" he smiles, though his voice stays soft "--I doubt you could stand that." He rests there watching her, off the path and nearly as motionless as the tree behind him.
A small vixen's tail swishes behind her, stirring the snow along the path. She takes a few more wary steps toward the ellon, not using the hurt leg at all. She cocks her head at him.
Candamon's head cocks as well. Mirror. "Ah. Do you want me to look anyway?" The fingers of his right hand rest on the path beside him - the other hand touches the pouch at his belt, opening the flap.
A small vixen moves cautiously to sit at the ellon's feet. She barks softly at him...a question, perhaps...holding up her paw for inspection. The wound is deep, to the bone. Obviosly something bad happened.
Candamon frowns, but immediately after he takes a breath and begins, very softly, to sing. It is not a great melody, but it is one well known - every hin in the valley has had it sung to him or to her to soothe scraped knees, bruises, even cuts like this one. The words are simple, comforting, and the ellon sings them quietly as he moves his right hand under the vixen's paw, not touching but resting where it will give support if she choses to give her paw to him.
A small vixen allows her paw to rest in the ellon's hand. She whimpers and softly barks at Candamon. Her ears fold forward, relaxing at the ellon's song. Her large greyish eyes stay on the ellon's face.
The singing continues. Candamon finishes opening the pouch and taking from it a roll of thin white linen and a small flask. With that hand he releases the stopper of the flask at his belt and wets the cloth slightly, making no more motion than is necessary, and then brings it around. Very gently he lets the cloth rest against the wound on the vixen's paw. The smell that comes from the slightly greenish liquid is very light, only slightly astringent.
A small vixen wrinkles her nose at the ellon, but does not pull away. She whimpers lightly and blinks, but keeps her eyes on the ellon, her ears perked to the song.
And the song continues as Candamon very carefully cleans the wound, supporting the vixens paw that rests on his right hand and pressing gently around the paw pad with the cloth in his left. The bleeding stops. He does not let the song change as he folds the linen down to small strip and just begins to wrap it so that it will cover the wound. His hand merely supports her paw - she could pull it away without resistance.
A small vixen practically purrs as the ellon takes care of her. Her tail swishes back and forth happily behind her, trailing dirt, leaves, snow.
Candamon wraps the paw just enough to cover the now-cleaned wound - not tightly, but in a way that should stay secure until the vixen decides to pull it lose. The song winds its way down to rest and healing as he pulls his left hand away, leans back, and lowers his right so that he paw rests on it freely. The melody fades into speech, and he says, "Leave that on until it itches, if you will, then pull it free. It will speed the healing." Gray eyes brush her greyish ones, settle on her paw. He relaxes and quiets, almost part of the tree behind him.
A small vixen barks softly at the ellon, nosing the bandage. She looks up, curling into a ball at Candamon's feet. Her tail flicks up and down. Looking up into his eyes, the small vixen lets out a rumble of noise from her throat in appreciation to the elf.
Candamon cocks an eyebrow at the vixen. "You are on my cloak, little one." And she is, as it sweeps out to wrap in front of his booted feet, but he simply grins. He begins humming the song again as he left hand reaches to his belt and this time comes up with his water flask. He pours some into his cupped left hand, which he brings down to rest near her. The humming pauses, then resumes as he himself drinks from the flask.
A small vixen licks some water from his hand, her tongue brushing his palm. She looks up at him with grateful eyes, not even attempting to move from his cloak.
When she had drunk, Candamon moves his hand away, letting the water run to the fallen leaves beside him. His shoulders move as if settling into the tree behind him, and then he is still once again. Only the faint humming and the hooded gray of his eyes speak of movement now - all else is at rest in the clear, chill morning as two forest creatures share a cloak.
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