The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 02

"That would totally ruin me," he groaned after they broke it. As she left the room to return to the kitchen, he Cleaned his clothes, put them on, and wandered rather unsteadily back to the kitchen, where he got a quick drink of water from the pump and splashed some on his face.

"I didn't get the chance to check the appointment book yesterday," Harold said, stretching and yawning. "What's on tap for today? Time for naps?" he added hopefully. Then Marcie returned, looking like she'd just woken up from a nap, holding her five-foot quarterstaff and his six-foot staff, and Leila took her six-foot staff from the corner behind the table. The ladies' models were of polished oak, while his was made of ash. All three had carvings of varying degrees of complexity on their lengths, made by their owners. His was much more worn and battered than theirs due to its constant use, but it was still sound.

"Time for practice, Papa," said his daughter firmly, well used to his evasions. He whined and pouted as he took his staff, but it was all for show as they were well aware. After they had put on their shoes and intercepted a wandering Harold, they went out the kitchen door and walked around to the front of the house to the tree that was near the street corner. To his surprise, there were five other people there waiting for them under the overcast sky, all with staves of varying woods.

"This is interesting," said Harold, giving Leila a look with a raised eyebrow. "Timmy Witherspoon!" he exclaimed, upon recognizing one of them. "Uh, do you still call yourself Timmy?"

"No, Healer Harold," he replied with a grin and respectful nod. "It's Tim now. I'm more or less in charge of the Community Hall now that Wayne Dunlop passed away. It's a long story," he added as they spread out on the lawn under the tree, giving each other plenty of room. "Healer Leila and Marcie have practised their moves under the tree for several years, and it occurred to me a few months ago that other people in town might be interested in it as a form of active meditation."

"So, two nights a week, Marcie and I go to the Hall and lead a small class, including these folks and about ten others. They're quick learners and have been doing well."

"Even me," Tim chuckled as they all progressed through the familiar warm-up forms, gently bending, twisting and stepping while positioning their staves in the prescribed manners. "I was never very good in school, with problems in paying attention, but ever since I started, I've found it really helps." He was about five-foot-ten with a slender but well-muscled build, bright blue eyes, somewhat scruffy blond hair, and a pleasant tenor voice.

"I'm really glad that things have turned out for you, Tim," said Harold, smiling warmly. "I can't recall ever seeing you after I Healed your leg twelve years ago. The rest of you are...?" he asked. Marsha and Henry Blackstock were semi-retired farmers, living in the farmhouse with a son, daughter-in-law, and three teenaged grandkids who did most of the work. Ella Finster was five-foot-five, about fifteen, with shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, and a nicely developing figure. It looked like she'd been having issues with acne as well, but he presumed that Leila had been helping her out with that. Rounding them out was Mark ("No, I'm not a nut!") Acorn, who was about six-foot-two with short black hair that was beginning to recede up the forehead, brown eyes, muscular, and worked in the General Store.

"I suppose that you folks never needed me when I've been around," said Harold dryly, getting some chuckles as they finished the warm-up and started on the First Basic Form, which was clearly designed to lead its practitioners through elementary attack and defense moves. "I assume that Leila has told you that she's leading you through what we learned at Magic School way back when."

"In all my years," Henry drawled slightly, "I had never thought of the staff as a weapon, or even something you could meditate with." He was doing pretty well for a relative beginner, and Harold corrected his stance a bit. "Interesting. It actually feels more natural when I stand like this. Thanks." After going through the Form once more, they paused for a rest.

"Since I'm the special guest today, let me show you the First Basic Form from a different school of staff work," said Harold. "There's a story behind this, but I'll save it for afterwards so you can concentrate on what I'm doing. It's mostly similar to the Magic School version, but has some important differences." They all watched carefully as he slowly went through the motions, explaining each pose and transition and how they differed. "Like with anything else, this School has its strengths and weaknesses. Let's go through it a couple of times and you'll see what I mean." As they did, he continued, "You can feel how different muscles get stretched as you move. There are other Forms in the Magic School version that work these muscles, but they're more advanced."

"I can feel myself relaxing, even as my muscles are moving," said Ella with some surprise.

"I got rather irritated with how dogmatic and inflexible both schools were with each other," said Harold with a smile, "namely because the originators apparently hated each other's guts and were determined to prove the other was lesser than them. So, I took it upon myself to blend them together into something better." He demonstrated the Modified First Form, pointing out the differences, and had them go through it twice.

"Healer Leila, is there any way you can keep him here a little longer so he can teach us more?" asked Mark in his deep, clear voice. "I should be doing this before I begin work at the store so I don't strain myself hauling all the heavy stuff."

"This wonderful man can't be pinned down for long," Leila replied with a warm smile and twinkling eyes directed at him. "The Magic School Forms are easier for beginners to learn than his, but I was planning on trying them out on you this week. You wouldn't believe the trouble he has caused by merging the two disciplines. Not only did he have the nerve to blend the best of them into a new discipline, he then got both of them mad by beating the crap out of their best students at the Annual Tournament, which motivated some people to start the Third Discipline School to siphon away students, and especially their money, from the others."

"One of those 'some people' was her," Harold replied dryly, to the amusement of the others. "I didn't become aware of this School until years later, but the wrath of the two Grand Masters did make my life a little more interesting than necessary for a while, just as I was getting ready to graduate. Don't worry, Leila is more than qualified to teach you everything you need to know. I am pretty sure that I have some appointments to get to before the rain comes, so I should go find out what they are and get to earning my keep." Just then, a horse and buggy turned the corner and came to a halt in front of them.

"Healer Leila!" said the driver, a teenaged man dressed in farm clothes, said quickly, "our cow has gotten mastitis and needs help! Can you come Heal her?" He had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sad and worried expression.

"Hello, Joe," she replied, leaning on her staff. "I'm sorry to hear about that. I have some appointments this morning," she continued as his face fell, "but my colleague Healer Harold will be glad to help. He's the visiting Healer and is far better at dealing with animals than I am."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Joe," said Harold, walking over to the buggy past the brown and white horse, which was not breathing that hard and looking alert. He stopped to introduce himself, stroke its muzzle and give it a scratch behind the ears before getting on the buggy and holding onto his staff.

"Hey, Joe," said Tim with a friendly wave, and Joe waved back. "You're stealing him away just before we were going to try to get them to demonstrate some sparring with their staves." Harold grinned as Joe expertly got the horse and buggy turned around on the road.

"It's not a good idea for life partners to spar with each other. It sets a bad precedent. Besides," he added mischievously, "Leila is rather competitive and hates to lose."

"Wait a minute, you!" Leila replied indignantly, shaking a fist as they started to pull away. The others laughed as he winked and blew her a kiss, and then they were around the corner heading north. Her attempt to quell their mirth with a cold stare was only partly successful. "Well, I could be a little competitive," she said, hands on her hips, "but I have managed to beat him a couple of times. He knows many dirty tricks that they don't teach you in School, and he's had to fight for real several times." She paused, leaned on her staff, and looked into the distance briefly. "His taking off like that is actually very convenient." She looked at all of them, including Marcie. "I have decided that it's time for Operation Wedding Band to begin."

"Really, Mama?" shrieked Marcie, charging into her for a big hug and nearly knocking her down. "You and Papa will finally get married?"

"That's great news!" said Tim as they all came over to hug her more gently but still happily. "Does he know?" he added with a grin.

"No, and we have to keep it that way. I love that man with all my being, and he's totally devoted to me. It's time to make it official."

"We'll drop by the Mayor's office," said Marsha. "Brenda will want to know, since she'll be officiating. One of the perks of being Mayor."

"I'll track down the pack of kids and get them to spread the word," said Ella. "Everyone loves a party!" They all moved off to the main street and then in different directions from there, leaving Marcie, blue eyes shining with excitement, hugging her Mama.

"What made you decide that today was the day?" she asked as they moved towards the backyard. "It's going to be raining soon and will be for most of the day."

"Papa will be leaving tomorrow to continue his rounds and won't be back for another month and a half or so," Leila replied. "I had to finally admit to myself that I can't be scared to finally give myself totally and completely to someone else. But I can't say just what it was that finally pushed me to it." In fact, she could, and it was when his cock was twitching helplessly as he was staring at her ass and pussy as she was bent over, putting on her socks. His expression was impossible to describe, a combination of love, lust, and devotion, but she had known at that point that it was time. Of course, she couldn't tell that to her daughter. Maybe later when she was older.

"You and Papa were loving each other again this morning," said Marcie frankly as they reached the kitchen door. "I could feel how strong it was, and it put me to sleep for a while because it felt so good." Despite everything, Leila still felt herself blushing.

"That might have had a part in it," she replied, a little shakily. "I have to get ready for my first appointment. Please go tell Mrs. Blandford and Miss Keystone that your Papa will be coming this afternoon, then come back home so you don't get too wet from the rain." Marcie went into the house and returned moments later with a bright yellow umbrella.

"See you soon, Mama!" her daughter replied, running off with a giggle. Leila shook her head, smiled proudly and went into the kitchen to get herself ready for the day's work.

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"How long has your cow had mastitis?" Harold asked Joe after they'd turned right, heading north on the main street.

"We thought that something was wrong last night," he replied as he urged the horse to an easy trot. "But this morning it was clear that the right front teat was infected. It's red, swollen, and hot to the touch and she's really uncomfortable." Harold shook his head.

"It's a good thing you noticed so soon. Mastitis can get bad really quickly. I'm glad that I'm here to help."

"She's been healthy otherwise and produces lots of milk for us. Sometimes a bit too much."

"You have to make sure to get it all out, even if you have to fill another pail. I'm sure there are barn cats or other critters that can help you out if necessary." Harold looked around as the buggy left town and entered farm country. They were only about ten minutes out, still on the main road, when the horse steered himself into the driveway of the farm. There was a decent-sized two-storey stone house at the top of a small grade on the right of the driveway, with a large unpainted barn facing it on the left. The driveway and the space between the house, barn, and a large buggy shed were like the road, gravel that had been pressed into the dirt. It made for a loud and rattly ride, but good traction where there would otherwise be mud on the wet days. He looked to the gray sky and felt the wind.

"Rain's coming soon," said Joe as they dismounted from the buggy to open the shed doors. Joe hopped on again and backed the horse until the buggy was in the shed. "Bessie's in the barn, if you'd like to go look while I get this put away and the horse in the pasture."

"Sure thing," Harold replied, walking to the barn with his staff in his right hand. He turned to look behind him as he heard a door close from the house and waved a friendly greeting at a man about his age and a young woman a couple of years older than Joe, who were standing on the porch. "I'm Harold, here to look after Bessie," he called out.

"Wow, that was fast," said the woman in a strong alto voice, her face lighting up, as she hustled down the three steps and over to him. Their father followed more slowly, limping noticeably on his left leg and using a cane to help. Harold's eyebrows rose; it was clear who his next patient was going to be. He continued to the barn door, where the woman caught up to him. She was about five-foot-eight, with thick brown hair down to her shoulders tied back in a short pony tail, a nicely filled out light blue blouse, loose-fitting blue jeans, and sturdy leather boots that went up to mid-shin. Her brown eyes were warm and showed concern, but also intelligence as she quickly sized him up before opening the door.

He stood just over six feet tall and was wearing his traveling clothes, an off-white cotton shirt and light brown pants made from a tougher cotton fabric, and was wearing his walking boots, which were a sturdy but comfortable black leather that went up to his knees. Their resemblance to soldiers' boots was no coincidence, because that's what they were. They had been designed and perfected for long marches, which he had to do regularly. His hair was cut short, mostly gray, and quite thin on top; his eyes were the blue of the ocean on a sunny day, his nose short and straight, and his eyebrows were bushy and dark brown. His clean-shaven face was lined but not wrinkled and looked both kind and competent, and she felt at ease almost immediately.

"I'm Jane Russell. We kept Bessie in here overnight when it looked like she wasn't well, rather than out in the pasture." There were three large stalls on either side of the aisle that terminated in another double door, and a well-stocked hayloft up above, and it smelled like a barn. Bessie, an average-sized black and white cow, was in the middle stall on the right.

"You should bring her out into the yard where the light is better and I can get a little closer," said Harold, stroking her muzzle gently. "You poor thing. We'll get you healed up in no time." She leaned her head into his hand as Jane opened the stall door and led the cow out back the way they had come. "And where did you come from?" he asked a trio of barn cats - a brown tabby, a black-and-white, and a smaller gray one with a white belly and moustache - that had appeared as if by magic and were twining around his legs and meowing, demanding attention.

"You have quite the way with animals," Jane noticed as she peered around Bessie. The double doors opened as Joe and their father swung them open and they emerged into the diffuse light from the overcast sky. Harold had had to stop to pet and scratch the cats behind the ears, and he stood up and smiled at the overly friendly felines.

"I don't even have any treats on me," he said ruefully. "OK fuzzballs, time to catch those mice." They watched as he closed his eyes and concentrated briefly and three small yellowish-green glowing balls appeared in his left hand. He quickly applied one between the shoulder blades of each cat and they sank into their fur. The critters had stopped their affections as they felt something strange flowing over their bodies, and the human they were loving stepped back a few paces. Suddenly, their fur poofed out and sparks shot away in all directions, leaving little trails of smoke. The frightened cats then tore off at top speed back into the barn to the amusement of the humans, who had by this time been joined by Jane and Joe's mother. "That's the Flea Buster. It kills their fleas, then will attract all the others around them and will kill them as well. They should be able to de-flea your barn and area in a few days."

"I'm Lydia Russell," she introduced herself with a firm handshake.

"I'm Martin," said her husband. "She runs the place and we're the permanently hired hands," he added with a wink, earning him a friendly glower. They both had the sturdy physique of the local farmers, with him being about six feet tall and her about five-foot-ten and a bit more heavy-set. Brown hair and eyes, pleasant expressions, and sensible working clothes rounded them out.

"I'm Harold Moser, Senior Healer of the Order of St. Thrimble," he replied.

"I've heard about you," said Lydia with a smile as Bessie gave him a nudge. "You're Healer Leila's partner. Things seem to happen when you're in town." He grinned, turned and knelt down to examine the cow's udder. It required no knowledge of medicine to identify the infected teat.

"I have that honour," he replied, standing up and looking at her. "And if I'm ever able to retire, it is here where I will come." He patted Bessie's side and said "OK Bessie, this is going to feel a bit strange, but you'll be better in no time. Please don't kick me." Bessie mooed softly and the Russells stepped back a few paces and watched intently as he knelt again, closed his eyes, and drew a complex pattern with lines of red, light blue, dark blue, and brown on her entire udder, but concentrated on the infected part. He stood up and aside as the pattern sank in. After several seconds, a jet of nasty fluid shot from the infected teat and splashed on the ground. The mage gave the cow a gentle shove to move her, inspected it, then waved his hands over the puddle, causing it to glow and then burn.

"That will do it," he concluded, standing again and picking up his staff from where he'd laid it. "Martin, from the way you walk, it looks like your leg is causing you problems."

"No, I'm fine," he denied, but wilted under the combined weight of this family's stares. "Oh, fine. A day and a half ago our ram charged me in the sheep pasture and hit my leg. I was fast enough to not get hit on both legs, but that woolly bastard cracked something."

"You won't sit still and let it heal!" said Lydia angrily. "It's getting worse, not better!" Joe hurried to the pasture gate and opened it, and Jane gave Bessie a small push. The cow mooed loudly at Harold, who blew her a kiss, then lumbered off to the pasture. Joe closed the gate and hurried back, not wanting to miss anything.

"I'm here now, and I'll fix up your leg as good as new, and you won't have to sit still for more than a few minutes," said Harold with a warm smile. "Please hold still while I have a look." He concentrated, said some words in a strange language and made some complex motions with his hands and fingers, and what looked like a two-foot square pane of glass appeared and floated in the air. The Russells were impressed. "This Window lets me look inside without cutting you open. I can make it zoom in and magnify to almost microscopic levels if I have to." He directed it to the outside mid-thigh of Martin's left leg and Lydia, Jane, and Joe moved around to have a look.