Fic - Linor - SGA - PG
Title: Linor
Author: Kazlynh
Claim: Table 3/Ronon Dex 50ficlets
Prompt: #11 Body
Fandom:SGA
Rating: PG
Word Count: 603
Summary: Ronon collapses in a village
Linor watched as it took four men to lift and carry the unconscious man’s body into the tent.
“This is folly, Linor!”
She turned, laying a reassuring hand on her father’s arm. “We cannot simply leave him lying in the middle of the village,” she told him. “He will die. Do you wish the children to find him like that?”
Keturah made a soft sound of disgruntlement, but voiced no other objection as Linor smiled and kissed him on the cheek before following the men into the tent.
They had laid the man on one of the cots, near to the fire. As they turned and left the tent, Linor lifted her medicine box, taking it across to the unconscious man. She knelt by his side, checking his pulse before laying the back of her fingers against his forehead. He was fevered, his pulse fast, his breathing shallow and rapid.
She stood, moving across to the fire, lifting the kettle and pouring some of the hot water into a bowl. Then she went back to the unconscious man, opening the medicine box, lifting a jar out and measuring some of the contents into the warm water. Replacing the jar, she lifted another, taking out one of the small, brown leaves and crumbling it into the warm water. Mixing the brew together she sank to her knees at his side.
His eyes were open and he was looking at her. She smiled at him. “This will help your fever and the pain,” she told him, reaching out and lifting his head, helping him drink from the bowl.
Ronon took a long gulp of the bitter liquid, feeling it soothe his throat. The woman eased his head back onto the pillow and turned to look at the man standing across the tent. Ronon reached out, catching her wrist. She turned back, looking at him.
“Thank you…”
She smiled at him, telling him, “I am a healer. There is no need for thanks.” Her smile faded and she warned, “I must remove your clothing. It will cause you pain.”
Ronon nodded, his eyes sliding closed. By the time she had unfastened his leather waistcoat, he was unconscious again.
oo0oo
The deep slash on the man’s chest was obviously infected, leaking foul-smelling puss. He groaned, whimpered softly in pain as she cleaned the wound, but stayed mercifully unconscious. Finally, satisfied that she had removed as much dirt and puss as she could, she made up a paste of ground, dried leaves and warm honey, spreading a layer over the wound before pressing a clean cloth into it.
The honey and rosea leaves had antiseptic properties that would help his body kill the infection. He would wake in pain, but she could give him more tonic for that. What concerned her more was how thin he was. Without proper nourishment, his body would be unable to fight the infection.
“Will he live?” Keturah asked,
“I cannot be sure,” Linor admitted, moving back to the fire for more warm water. “The wound is infected, he has a fever. If he is strong enough, he will recover.”
“He looks as if he has endured much,” Keturah commented.
“He has not bathed or eaten in many days,” Linor agreed, moving back to the cot, gently beginning to wash the dirt from the rest of the man’s skin.
“He cannot remain here, Linor!” Keturah warned.
“If we move him now, father,” she countered, gently, “he will die…”
“Once he is strong enough, he must go!”
She smiled, glancing across at him before turning her attention back to her patient, “Of course, father.”