|
“Is this the first rank?”
Gilduin barely registered the question; he was far too accustomed to avoiding conversation to fashion a reasonable reply. He tried to ignore the elf and withdraw into the safe, familiar realm of his own mind, but he could not escape the stranger’s gaze. He stared for a moment at the other elf, taking note of his appearance, which was becoming more difficult to discern in the growing darkness.
They were close in age, Gilduin noted. He guessed he was the elder of the two, but the stranger exuded such confidence and intelligence that Gilduin was unsure. In the glow of the herald’s lantern he saw the pride in the archer’s eyes, and a flicker of tolerance that suggested the stranger felt he had been slighted. As the object of the other’s stare, Gilduin realized that he was undoubtedly the source of the offense. He searched his mind, trying to remember what affront he had recently committed.
When he could not recollect doing anything conceivably offensive, Gilduin realized with chagrin that the elf must have spoken to him. He tried desperately to remember what had been said, mortified at the thought that he had been rudely staring at the elf for the past few minutes. The silence had grown distinctly uncomfortable when at last he recalled the stranger’s question. He could think of only one reason for an archer to seek out the first rank, and with a sinking feeling he realized that the elf must be a captain. He wished to disappear, but forced himself to speak.
“No—I mean, yes, sir.” Gilduin said, knowing how flustered he must sound. “Yes, this is the first rank.” He gave a short bow, more to hide his reddening face than as a courtesy. “My name is Gilduin Lindorion, sir. I am the standard bearer.”
|