[The Fifth]

Calad turned his head around as soon as he saw Thengise walk in. He gazed upon her, nodding slowly. He too was clad differently, in all white clothing that went with the white walls and white bed. His hair contrasted with all of that. He then reclined tiredly upon the bed. As he was led into his room the guards had told him that a healer would be coming by as soon as possible. However, he could not tell the exact moment that the healer would be coming from listening, for elves make no sound when walking. He slouched forward, setting his arms upon his lap and staring at the white, marble ground.

There were a few brief, soft words coming from outside the door. The doors were swung upon by the guards, who seemed to be a bit bored, but they remained alert; Calad was unpredictable and could do the most unexpected things. Stepping into the room was the healer, they could tell. He was garbed in robes, and although a bit shorter than the guards, he still had a sense of gentle power. He strode towards Calad.

Calad froze at the sight of this stranger. What was he going to do to him? Instead, the healer stopped in front of Calad. He turned towards Thengise. "I am afraid that we must be left alone, m'lady," he explained. "One cannot concentrate with visitors about." Thengise did as he said, and walked out of the room. Turning back to Calad, he smiled softly. "Hello, I mean no harm. Do not shrink away like a cornered deer. My name is Taralquamegil, and what is yours, if you remember at all?"

The elf leapt off the bed, to the side of Taralquamegil. The healer turned again, waiting for an answer. Calad wanted to yell out, "I don't know! Go away!" but he just.. couldn't. The other elf standing in front of him didn't seem to want to budge. He soon grew angry, glaring at the new foe. Taralquamegil merely stared back, and asked, "Tell me. What happened to you? I do not want to hurt you, I merely want to help. Now tell."

Calad still did not answer, although he knew what it was. He backed off into the corner of the room, his brows furrowed in a combination of confusion, anger, and sadness. He did not tell, although he wanted. Something inside of him, like a constant, nagging voice of the orc he was dangerously close to being was telling him to do what it said. He was a slave of his own mind. The elf cried out, clenching his fists and hitting them against the walls. From outside, the guards could hear a faint noise, but they paid no heed to it.

Taralquamegil was now filled with concern, although he was still staring at him. He stepped back now; he did not want Calad to feel imprisoned, and he did not want to make any enemies. He pulled a chair out from the desk in the opposite corner, and sat upon it. He spoke, "Very well. I shall wait until you are willing to speak. It may take an Age, but you shall feel much better if you say at least one thing about yourself."

[ September 30, 2002: Message edited by: The Fifth ]