Anuion was standing behind the two for a time. At the bar he was speaking with the owner about the room. But his ears where fixed on a different conversation. Trough the room he could hear Jadae and Arethin where speaking about things. He could here Arethin talking about his mother. He was finished with the owner of the "Rusty Hilt" and went over.
"Arethin, I don't think that any cure these here doctor's posses can cure your mother. It is a sickness that is hardly curable. It is partly in her body, but also partly in her mind. The sickness she has is very old. The last time I saw it, I was just a boy of your age. The story goes that the book can cure any sickness. But even if you cure her, the effect's will last. For it is the loss of her most beloved, that makes it so terribly strong. You can cure her, but than you still need to cure her of her grief over the loss of her husband. And that requires a lot of devotion my friend."
Arethin was stunned. This elf knew his medicine alright. He took another sip of his ale.
Anuion faced Jadae.
"As for you dear Jadae: I surly believe in this book. During my travels, the legend passed out of my mind and the memory was vague. The storyteller revived it. I wanted to search it someday. Now the time has come. I will join you. By the way, good job with my knife. Ill come back when I need it sharpened again. Not many smiths dare to handle elfish craft."
He took a chair and sat down next to the others.
[ May 27, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]
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