|
Kwell
Kwell sat back and propped his hands up on his knees, looking at the hobbit, feeling still dazed at his unexpected appearance and that of the dwarf. He watched with the eyes of a hawk as Carl touched and handled Azhar, asking their names. He gave them accordingly. The hobbit called to her, but Kwell shook his head.
“I’ve done that. It doesn’t help. She’s been that way for hours.”
“Kwell,” Carl said after a short pause, turning towards him. “I think we are going to need your help getting her out of here. Do you think you are up for it?”
Kwell looked very doubtful. He scowled in the darkness and his jaw clenched as he thought of his answer. “Not the way you came, I’m not,” he finally said. “Azhar can’t go underwater so long as she’s not responding. You should know that. Maybe.” He looked doubtfully at the hobbit. “Besides, we don’t know how to swim. And what’s more, I don’t even know who you are! We’re in a bad plight of things, but I’m not so bad off that I might go throwing in my lot with strangers who might be intending to do the same thing these people are. Explain yourselves, and all the flashes and great explosion things going on before you arrived, if you can.”
He looked with a fierce glance from Carl to Vrór and back again, waiting. Why were they there and what were they trying to accomplish? No one did anything without some thought of gain, Kwell knew that from experience. Carl’s comment of coming to help had quite passed over Kwell’s ears, but he had regained some of his presence of mind by now and not only was he ready to listen, but he also had questions.
|