Books for Combeferre - and an EP

[starrydome]

 Elrond has brought books with him this time. An assortment of beautifully bound times, smaller sewn manuscripts, and in one case a neat stack of loose papers.

They cover a wide range of topics, from treating wounds on the battlefield to how to handle excessive hemorrhage during childbirth. All empahisze the holistic nature of healing and the need for cleanliness.
Some are in Westron, but most are written in Quenya or Sindarin. He is rather hoping that the magic of Bar will make sure the texts are readable.
One, small book concerns the difficulties in treating emotional trauma. Some of the examples concern a lady. His wife. There is a lot of sorrow and pain in the fairly detailed description of tried and failed attempts at overcoming the pain.

He leaves the stack with Bar and gets a mug of tea that he brings to a nearby chair.

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan watches the books disappear into Bar's surface, a little longingly, then gives their owner a quick smile as he catches his eye in looking away.

[starrydome]

Elrond returns the smile, recognizing a fellow book lover.

[athelstanthescribe]

And especially a lover of handwritten and beautifully bound books.

"Hello", he says, encouraged. "Were those a gift for someone?"

[starrydome]

"They were supposed to be a loan," Elrond replies, "but it might end up being permanent. I think the young man will put them to good use."

[athelstanthescribe]

"I don't imagine you'd have let him have them, thinking he wouldn't", Athelstan agrees with a smile. "They were lovely work, from the outside."

[starrydome]

"You have an interest in the art of making books?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"There was a time it was my main occupation, aside from prayer."

And he does miss it so much.

[penderwydd]

Tegid was sitting nearby with a bowl of thin gruel and a cup of tea. His beard was long, and he was much thinner than the last time he saw Elrond. He is in modern clothes today, his ash staff rested next to him leaning on his chair. He had replenished many of the things he needed here, and he was getting ready to go back.

"Hello, Elrond," he said at the sight of the Elf Lord.

[starrydome]

"Hello, Tegid," Elrond replies with a smile.

[penderwydd]

"How are you doing, lord?" asked Tegid.

[starrydome]

"Please, Elrond," Elrond says.
"And I have been well enough. You?"

[penderwydd]

Tegid paused, not knowing how to answer, he decided on the truth.

"I have been better," he said. He took a sip of tea.

[starrydome]

Elrond nods.
"Your life has been hard lately?"

[protect_and_survey]

Jemma is at the fireplace, experimenting on the firefish.

This looks a whole lot like she's tossing various types of marshmallows at the fish, and writing the results down in her notebook.

Mostly because she is.

So far she hasn't found the right marshmallow types. She's beginning to suspect there's a confounding factor at play.

[starrydome]

Elrond looks at her actions for a little while. Then he calls, "Jemma! That seems a strange way to feed the fish."

Elves do not know marshmallows.

[protect_and_survey]

"I've been told they eat marshmallows, and I'm working on a design to keep the bait from falling in the fire, but first I need to know what they like most, so..." She waves a hand at the various bits of candy. "Field trials."

[starrydome]

He gets up and wanders over, mug in hand.
"Have you tried asking them?"

Yes, that is a serious question.
Yes, he knows he will likely get a look.

[protect_and_survey]

You won't be disappointed, Elrond. There's the Look, the 'please don't start you can't honestly expect me to believe you talk to fish' look. She doesn't even really realize she's doing it, otherwise she'd be a bit more embarrassed about it.

A bit.

And she'd still do it.

Because really.

"No. I have not asked the fish." Duh.

[starrydome]

He ignores The Look.
Though he is secretly amused by it.
"Good evening, little ones."

It is very clearly directed at the fish.

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre has left his pterosaur pieces in his rooms. He's brought politer fare to amuse himself while eating: Darwin's On the Origin of Species and the third volume of Lyell's Principles of Geology.

He sees the pile of books with Bar when he enters, and looks over to see Elrond seated nearby. "Good evening, M. Elrond."

(Is it evening? He forgets. Even in Paris he was prone to losing track of the time--and time in Paris was a more predictable thing than in Milliways.)

[starrydome]

"Good evening to you too, Combeferre," Elrond replies. Then he nods at the books. "They were the ones I thought of immediately, so I have brought them for a start."

[wings_of_a_swan]

"I thank you again," Combeferre says.

He picks up the small book, and his face changes. First, because of the script: it's elegant, it's foreign, and it should be incomprehensible, but somehow (thanks, Bar) Combeferre understands it anyway.

And then, because of the content. Wounds that penetrate the heart and soul as well as the body. The book is written in a language and an idiom very different from the 20th and 21st century books on psychology that Combeferre has looked at since his arrival in Milliways: a language that seems more archaic, and yet captures nuances absent from all others Combeferre has encountered.

"Yes," murmurs Combeferre. "This will be enlightening indeed."

[starrydome]

"I am glad if that is the case," Elrond says before taking a small sip of his tea.
"Knowledge is not meant for hoarding."

[wings_of_a_swan]

"Certainly, when knowledge is acquired in the course of such grave emotional pain," says Combeferre, "one might be tempted to clutch it close--but it can do such good if one can bear to share it, and is willing to."

[starrydome]

Elrond looks at him.
"It would be wrong of me not to share what I have learned," he says quietly.
"In that case, what befell my Silver Queen would have brought nothing with it but grief and pain,"

This way at least some good will come of it. Knowledge.