Monday, April 23, 2012

Braenna from the beginning: A dwarf's tale, Part 2

(Click here for part 1!)

 ONE YEAR LATER

“Eeee!” the baby, wrapped to her mother’s back, squealed as Baerla quickly turned to the opening door.

“Callum,” Baerla exclaimed, “what happened to your arm?”

Callum grimaced, as his mother answered for him.  “This cack-handed gumby fell out of a tree, and I think he broke it.”

Baerla rushed to Callum, and quickly checked over his arm.  Her poking and prodding elicited a strong 

“OWWW” from Callum, and Baerla determined, “Yes, definitely broken.  Give me a minute to prepare, and I’ll fix you up.”

The healer began focusing on Callum’s arm, channeling her limited ability to the boy’s injury.  As she focused, Callum squealed in discomfort as the bone mended itself.  Baerla finished the mending, and sat back with a long sigh.  She and the boy’s mother looked over her handiwork.  “It’s not perfect, but it’ll do,” Baerla noted.

Callum began flexing his arm, twisting and turning it to test the mending.  His mother felt the formerly broken area, asking “this feels…not quite right.  Are you sure you’re done?”

“Yes, “Baerla answered, a bit testily, “I am.  I’m not one of those fancy Ironforge healers that can spend the whole of their life training, and perfecting my craft.  I’ve got three grown daughters, and this new little one, taking up the vast majority of my time. My work may not bring your son’s arm back to full strength, but it will have full function, and he will not lose it.  What more would you like?”

“Nothing,” Callum’s mother said bashfully, “thank you so much!  I really appreciate it.  Let me know if there is ever anything I can do for you.

Baerla brightened considerably, and said, “Oh, don’t worry about it, it was my pleasure.  I’ll see you soon!  And stay out of those trees, Callum, I don’t want to have to fix you again!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Ironbeard!” Callum shouted as he ran out of the house, “I promise I won’t!”

“And as for you, little one,” Baerla looked at her daughter, still strapped to her back, “lets get you some food, I bet you’re getting hungry.  Who’s momma’s precious little angel?” Braenna giggled as her mother cooed, and listened in rapt attention.  Soon the child was fed and content yet again.

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