Every Little Hurt

Many styles and looks had been seen in Skyhaven over the long centuries. Every hue of every color, every garment of every type. Rarely did a new look turn heads among the jaded elves of New Palace.  

It was a crisp autumn morning when Silariel managed to do just that. Most of the elves working in the light of the aerie had taken shelter behind the portable glass shields that blocked the breezes and were there was more warming of hands over braziers than crafting going on.  

Silariel had brought her embroidery up to work in the light, which was rare, especially when it was chilly like this. If it was chilly, then Silariel would be down-right cold. She was shivering noticeably, as she held her hands over the fire and smiled to her old friend, Jazael, who stared at her open-mouthed. It was a lop-sided smile, because the left side of her lip was swollen to nearly three times it's normal size.

"Hello," she muttered.

"Do you need a healer?" Jazeal inquired.

"No, I look this way on purpose," she sat down, huddling slightly against the chill. "And I am a healer, remember."

"I remember. Do you remember? And if so, why do you look like that?!"

She gingerly touched the swollen welt on the side of her head. "I remember. I'm conducting an experiment."

"Which is?"

"Maybe, I'll tell you, later," Silariel pronounced each word carefully. It not only was she being careful of what she said, but it was also that her swollen jaw hurt.

Jazeal looked at her closely, her golden eyes narrowed. She rarely missed much. "You're in pain aren't you. Why aren't you blocking that? That's your job among healers, or always has been! You're the one that blocks pain! Why aren't you, at very least-"

"I'm conducting an experiment!" Silariel interrupted, "I'll explain later. Maybe."

Jazeal glared at her a long moment and attacked her own sewing viciously.

"By the Starfall!" Sylune dropped into the seat opposite the two. She had been talking to Eslan and hadn't noticed what Silariel had looked like 'til she was nearly on top of the pair. "What happened to you! Who did that to you?! And why haven't you healed yourself! Your magic isn't that weak-"

"I'm conducting an experiment!" Silariel interrupted again, considerably more testily.

"She won't tell me about it," Jazeal put in.

"Who did that to you?"

"I did it to myself."

Sylune leaned forward, looking closely, "Why?"

"I'm conducting-"

"An experiment," Sylune and Jazeal both ended.

"You look disgusting!"

"Sylune!" Jazeal gasped.

"Well, it's true, mother! Silariel, you look awful!"

Silariel smiled grimly, "Good."

"Why?!" Sylune reached forward and gently touched Silariel's swollen face. She'd never actually seen healing bruises before. Injuries, yes; but then you got healed-and idea occurred to her, "Your experiment has something to do with natural healing, right!"

"Excellent guess," Silariel smiled brightly, and her lip began bleeding.

Sylune sat back happily and said, "Well, I hope it's worth it, it looks painful. You must be very bored to be conducting this experiment!"

Silariel smiled her current half-smile grimly, and studied the embrodery in her hands, "I supose boredom explains it," she finally murmured.

Jazeal tucked her needle away and folded up the magenta and yellow garment, "Are you ready for our routine?"

Sylune nodded, "That's why found you, mother."

"Well," Jazeal turned toward Silariel, "I'd ask if you'd like to join us, but I can see your hardly in an condition for exercise-"

"Actually," Silariel tucked her own sewing away, "that's why I found you, too."

And Jazeal was too diplomatic to tell her no.

It was a truly horrific workout. Silariel rarely just exercised on purpose. She stayed fit enough doing her daily chores in the menagerie. She had pushed herself farther than either Sylune or Jazeal. They had been taking it easy at first, in difference to her condition, but after she'd pushed herself beyond what they were doing, they'd begun with their usual routine, at their usual speed. She'd struggled to keep up and fell several times, but refused to quit. By the end, Jazeal was noticeably upset.

As they took turns stepping beneath the little waterfall in the clean-up room off the exercise area, Jazeal noticed more bruises and poked a probing finger at Silariel 's ribcage. When the white-haired elf almost fainted, she caught her and forced her to sit down. "You've got broken ribs, don't you?!"

Silariel smiled strangely at her friend, "And internal damage, too."

"This is too much!" Jazeal there, naked, hands on her hips, looking around as if looking for an answer. "Heal yourself, now!"

"No."

Sylune sat down beside her, toweling dry her hair, "You would know if you were so damaged you where going to die, wouldn't you?" Silariel smiled at her and nodded. "And your not going to right?"

**That's not a part of my experiment** she sent kindly.

"I don't care what your experiment is!" Jazeal announced, "You ought to be in bed! You could have done yourself-probably did do yourself-considerably more damage with the workout! If you won't heal yourself, at least stop doing additional damage. You need bedrest. Your going to go straight home and go to bed, do you hear me?!"

A secretive smile slipped onto Silariel's face, *Actually, Jazeal, I was planning to do just that!*

"Get away from me!" Etnamael almost ran around the firepit to excape his lifemate. He didn't have to move very quickly, because she was holding her side and moving very gingerly.

"Oh, come on! You agreed to help!-"

"That was before I know you were going to do this to yourself! You look like you've been mauled by a bear!"

"Curse you!" She sputtered hobbling toward him again. "I've gone through too much getting to this point, you're not going to back out on your part of the bargain!"

"You made it sound like it was going to be fun!" he circled away from her. "It doesn't look like you're having fun!"

"I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Not unless you count nightmares!" he skimmed over the table to avoid being cornered by her, "Leave me alone! I'm not in the mood. You're full of pus!"

"Oh, come on! I'll do all the work!" She shook her finger at him, "Unless you make me chase you, and I get too tired!"

"Heal yourself, and I'll be perfectly willing!"

She scowled. Her temper was never good when she didn't feel well, and at the moment, she felt awful. "We can block out all the light. I'll use my magic. You can even use your magic, if that's what it takes!"

"My own illusions don't work on me!"

"Well, we'll still have my magic," she leered.

"Prove it! Heal yourself!"

"I want another baby!"

"Then stop trying to make me impotent!"

He took advantage of being the stronger glider of the two of them and shot past her to the more open area over the firepit. She lunged at him in midair and managed to catch his long braid. As she tried to reel him in, a knife flew out of the kitchen and into Etnamael's hand. He hovered above her poised to cut his braid off if he had to.

Too exhausted to stay afloat any longer, Silariel let go and dropped to the ground. "You agreed…" she whined.

He know how stubborn and sneaky she could be, so even though his heart went out to her, he didn't get close enough for her to grab him. He didn't think she'd actually force him, but then again she might.

She looked up at him sadly, "It's been 6,000 years-"

"Unless you count-" he stopped. By mutual understanding there were certain things neither of them mentioned. Ever.

The aching was getting almost too great for her not to heal. She had to concentrate to avoid doing it automatically. She began naming off their children, both adopted and those she'd bore. She had to use both hands. "Nelias, Emrain, Aleonra, Dimina, Enyiel, Endelyon. I've had far more than my share. Why an I doing this?!"

"I don't know... Because this has been the longest span of time in our lives without having a child od grandchild to raise." He risked landing. "Because L'Shayel's been questioning you about inducing Recognition."

She nodded slightly.

"And because she didn't listen or understand your explanations and theories and you've decided to prove yourself right."

"Oh, yeah, now I remember. Recognition mechanism. Physical stress. Life threatening things…" her voice trailed off.

He sat down beside her and she slumped up against him. He rubbed her neck, which was feverishly hot, "Why don't you heal yourself, and while your doing that, I've fix you something nice to eat. And then, once you're no longer repulsive, we'll work on making another one."

She chuckled, "You sweet-talker."