First, something very silly that came to mind when thinking about the other healers' attitudes to Aranya. :3
I just started singing this in my head out of nowhere.
🎶
How do you solve a problem like Aranya~
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down~
🎶
The song, of course, is from The Sound of Music. (
Here's a link to it)
After looking it up to listen to the whole thing, I just replaced 'Maria' with 'Aranya' in my mind, and got so much entertainment out of it. 😂
---
Aranya had numbly complied, not sure if she was going to be able to handle this or not, but she realized she had to, for
Maitimo’s sake. So she had fetched the cloth and pushed it down as hard as she could on those cuts.
There had been a horrible grating sound. Maitimo had let out a hoarse gasp, but he did not wake. Aranya’s heart had dropped to the pit of her stomach.
“Was that too hard?” she had asked, her voice thin and panicked. “Did I hurt him?”
Mittanyissë had frowned and carefully poked and prodded around Maitimo’s ribs. “I think a couple of these are broken. However, don’t let up the pressure on that cloth. We’ll be right back. We need to mix some cleaning herbs.”
She and the other healer had hurried to the cabinets full of herbs, leaving Aranya to keep the cloth on and watch as blood seeped up between her fingers. The liquid was hot to the touch.
First of all, I found the description of Maitimo's condition and his wounds being treated very vivid and realistic. It was all very well described, and I could definitely feel the underlying tension and sense of urgency. It was there, but repressed, as the healers were focusing on their work, and not on any anxiety they may be feeling.
Except, that is, for Aranya. The sight of her dear friend in such a state utterly shocked her, though she was able to pull herself together in the end.
These things, and her interactions with Maitimo after he woke up, bounced around happily in Aranya’s mind as she tried to sleep that night. The only things that made her squirm with embarrassment were Mittanyissë’s words. The sacred duties of a healer are not to be tarnished by our personal feelings.
I think presenting all this as Aranya's thoughts while she's in bed is very effective, and adds an extra layer of... I might say realism? Because it is a natural thing for someone to process things that have happened during the day while they are alone at night with nothing else to distract them. Especially if those things were fast-paced, stressful, or many-layered, so that they could not really be reflected on in the moment as they happened.
It also feeds into Aranya's mindset and motivations for the rest of this chapter, and provides us with some more context as to why she acts the way she does later on.
“You have taught me well, Atar,” he said, trying to remain in control of his rising nerves, as though they were a spooked
horse. “But I do not remember exactly what happened. I only remember setting out on the ride, and then some bits and pieces of being in the forest with my brothers, and then… nothing. I wish I could better explain what happened and why the horse threw me. I’m sure it was not caused by any negligence on your part.”
Maitimo's nerves acting like the horse that got him into this situation. 🫠
Maitimo’s eyes widened a little. He had not thought of this as a possibility, but it was a valid concern. He couldn’t even recite all his brothers’ names last night. What if he forgot
Tengwar, or some crucial fact during a debate with the lords? What if he forgot the knowledge he had worked so hard to earn in law, history, economics, linguistics and many other subjects?
“Atar, would you or someone else bring me some of my
books from home?” he pleaded, his voice suddenly desperate. “Whichever ones are sitting on my desk, along with the last few papers I wrote. I don’t have anything else to do, and… and I can’t afford to fall behind.”
Maitimo smiled faintly in return, only hoping this would prove true.
Fëanáro stood and left the room. It took Maitimo’s heart several minutes afterwards to stop pounding.
Poor bean. 🙁 *pat pat*
“Well, I think you’re the only one who can help us in this moment.” Cendë glanced around before she lowered her voice. “Mittanyissë doesn’t need to know. Come with me.”
I like her. She has common sense and uses it. >_>
“
Weeks? I don’t have weeks.” He reached towards the spot where his books had been, wincing with the movement, and then paused, seemingly confused. “That’s right. You moved them,” he said bitterly, almost under his breath. “But I don’t have weeks. It’s bad enough that I have to miss the
city council meeting tonight.”
“Maitimo… was it your Atar who put these notions in your head?”
His eyes widened briefly, then his gaze fell. Though he didn’t directly answer, this response told Aranya everything she needed to know.
Ah, poor soul. His common sense is also impaired by his condition, so he takes
Fëanor's words to heart even more so than he probably would have if he were uninjured and functioning normally.
Aranya had to wonder how Curufinwë got that idea. And if he had talked to Maitimo earlier, how dense did he have to be to fail to realize that his son, though he had certainly improved since last night, was still in a very bad state?
✨ miscommunications...! ✨
✨ Miscommunication and misunderstandings everywhere...! ✨
As for the rest... oh dear, Aranya...
Her courage and care for Maitimo are touching and very much commendable, but her course of action was ill-thought-out. ._.