Work Text:
Keep your tools sharp, said Olorin. Even butchers know better than to use a dull blade.
Oh, I say, I do not think I would ever be strong enough--
But soon I learn not to say things like this. I cannot be brilliant, and I cannot be dazzling. But I can be strong because it is a thing learned. I can train my body, and be quite stern with my childish mind.
When you begin to flatter yourself, Olorin says, go home to bed.
No one has an easy time applying the blade. It would be vicious, to enjoy it. Yet, as I try to explain to my bored siblings (and my attentive cousin, mostly), one must also steel oneself against fear. One must understand the good, so as to do no harm--or at least, no harm in the balance of things. No harm greater than that which is carved wide or away.
A doctor must act.
Yes, cano. Else there'd be no blood left, what with all the letting.
I practice stitches on leather and cloth, and then on my own wounds. I have quite a number of wounds, because I am clumsy. If I were not, I pity whomever my first patient should be.
So you must love cruelty a little, to cut open a man, Maitimo says, with a sideways grin.
No!
Ah, ah. That is what you were saying.
I try to explain.