Starting Anew

Winter Sickness

OoOoO

The next few weeks passed without incident in Fornost, with patrols going out every morning to scout the foothills around the village for any sign of orcs or other foul creatures. Day after day the rangers returned having nothing to report, and life for the Dunedain took on an almost relaxed feel.

Winter was not yet finished with the north of Middle-Earth though. One evening the skies went as grey as slate, and the winds blew down the mountains with an icy bite. All night long the windows and doors of every home shook as the storm wreaked its vengeance outside. Even Legolas had found a full reverie hard to attain, and he and Strider had spent much of the night sitting up before the hearth listening to the wind.

Come the morning, there had been snow drifts against every north-facing wall of the village. Some were so deep that children were able to tunnel into them, making a network of crawl spaces and forts between the buildings. The snow had been so deep that the rangers had been unable to go out on their usual rounds along the ridge. Strider had reassured his folk though when he pointed out that if they were unable to be abroad in the land, it was highly unlikely that any foul creatures would either. It went unspoken, but everyone also heard the implied reassurance that after the victory of the Battle of Five Armies the previous autumn, they could perhaps hope for peaceful times for a little bit longer.

A late winter cold spell knows no defeat though, and that night the winds had howled yet again. By the time the week was out, the entire Dunedain village was nearly so buried in snow that it made moving between buildings difficult. Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir found themselves put to work ferrying food and other goods back and forth between storehouses, the main hall and peoples' homes. Being elves, they could walk around atop the snow as they pleased. They also joined in helping to dig out what they could, when the weather paused in its wrath long enough to permit such endeavors.

Still, it wasn't long before time spent sequestered indoors began to wreak havoc on the health of the village. At first it was just the children sniffling here or there, or a running nose that Legolas noted when passing the latest armload of smoked ham through a window above the snow. When the winter sickness finally presented in full force, it seemed that no household got away without at least one person falling ill. That went for the chieftain's home as well; although Legolas by virtue of being an elf had no fear of sickness, Strider woke one morning sneezing loud enough to shake the walls.

It took less than a day for things to progress so quickly that Strider found himself flat on his back. The picture of winter misery, the poor man's sinuses were all running like a faucet left open and his voice was closer to that of a dwarf than a man for hoarseness. From the sounds of things, Strider was far from even being in the worst condition with the whole village taken into consideration.

Himself in as good a condition as he'd been when he arrived, Legolas knocked on the door to Strider's room and received a gravelly "Enter" from within. Taking care not to disturb the level of soup contained in the wooden bowl he carried, Legolas let himself in and tried not to grimace at the sight.

"Nod a bery preddy thing to see, ad even less to have I'b afraid." Strider managed a grin that looked more like an aborted sneeze. His eyes were red rimmed, and from the looks of things his tangled dark hair hadn't been brushed in ages. "You hab somethig for me dere?"

Crossing the room and handing Strider the bowl, Legolas gave a sympathetic half-smile. "I will admit that you have looked better, Strider. Far, far better."

"Yes, bud I've also looged worse." The Dunedain said wryly, if a bit stuffily. Picking up the spoon, he set to work tentatively on the stew. No one in the village had progressed from cold to stomach flu, but everyone seemed nervous of the possibility.