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The healer gently ran his fingers around the edge of the socket. "When did you lose your eye?"
"Near the end of the Third Age." Morlind hoped he would not need any further details. Even now, she still sometimes had bad dreams.
"Hmm. So about two Ages, then." The healer's tone was level, professional. It was a relief after the pity and over-the-top sympathy that most of the Valar-swaddled Amanyar greeted injury with, and Morlind found herself taking a swift liking to these Disciples of Estë.
The healer conferred for a few minutes with his assistants-- Morlind tried to follow, but her modern Quenya was still rudimentary-- and then turned back to his patient. "First we are going to determine the precise chords of your genetic code-- we have a bed in the next room, as Songs of Power have been known to cause temporary dizziness and vertigo. In two to three months, the new eye will be ready for implantation-- we will send a messenger when it is time. Then we will spend the next week reawakening the nerve endings. I am afraid this step will be quite uncomfortable, but there will be a Disciple on hand at all times to help you with pain management. The implantation itself, of course, will be done under a general anesthetic Song. Your vision will be somewhat blurry at first, but within four to six weeks your new eye should be fully functional. Do you have any questions before we start?"
Morlind smiled. "Not right now." She slipped her glass eye into her back pocket. "Let's do this."