the swamp-dwelling elf: Dec 21, mid-day
"You murmur enough to cast a spell of your own."
Raefindan stirred, and frowned. The voice was male. He opened his eyes. Glimmering in the firelight, a slender elf bent over a bucket of water, rinsing a cloth.
"Who are you?"
"Your unwilling host," replied the elf.
The redhaired man stirred, moaned, and lay still again. Outside a dog whined, and Raefindan spoke. "Jorje...?"
"Your loyal dog? He won't leave even if chased. I tied the horse and washed his wounds."
"Wounds? Is he all right? Where are the others?"
A sharp laugh. "The horse will be well; his wounds were shallow. You ask where are the ones who tied you to the horse? I know not. Nor care, if they but stay away. "
"Tied me?"
"Hands and feet. You have rope burns. Why the horse stayed here, I do not know. But you were dying, and I did not want a mannish corpse near my home."
"Dying..." Raefindan's eyes wandered around the cave. Wetness gleamed on the brown rock walls. There was no musty smell. Moss grew here and there. A chimney of sorts was cut through the rock, and there was a trickle of water into a basin near the door. The door was wooden, and needed repair.
With a lifted eyebrow, the elf wiped Raefindan's brow, face, and neck. "Your fever has broken at last. How weak you men are! You will be on your way soon, I trust."
"I can hardly move, " replied Raefindan.
"Weak indeed," muttered the elf, and went to rinse the cloth. "Yet you shall not stay."
Last edited by mark12_30; 06-10-2004 at 08:17 AM.
|