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Back at the main camp....
Rôg was still somewhat sore from the encounter with the slavers. His ribs ached if he moved too quickly, but he could now at least take in a decent breath without sending sharp little stabbing pains ricocheting through his chest. It was his head that bothered him the most. The gash at the base of his skull had scabbed over; tender only when he prodded at it.
Something, though, seemed to have come loose in whatever gave him a steady bearing. If he stood too quickly, turned his head too fast, the world would begin to spin a bit, his vision become slightly unfocused. Dizziness followed....and if he tried to walk, his legs would go all wobbly as if his feet could not find a steady place to put themselves. As such, he had begun to use a broken off stave with which to hobble about.
He joked about it to the others who’d stayed behind when the scouting party had gone out. ‘It’s like the old-wives saying,’ he’d tell whoever asked about his new reliance on the stick. ‘Four legs in the morning; two legs in the afternoon; three in the evening.’ Then laughing, he’d add, ‘Of course, with Athwen’s good ministrations I’m hoping time will turn back on itself soon and I’ll be able to walk about as before.’
I hope, at least, that will be the case! he often thought to himself. He could not imagine how he might manage a shape-change. The idea of some dizzy bird trying to fly, much less land somewhere dismayed him. And should there be another attack....A grimly funny picture ballooned in his mind. A large something....oliphaunt, perhaps – looking fierce, intimidating, even; for the briefest of moments. And then it would begin to wobble and totter; its eyes going all googly. The foe would begin to snicker and laugh....
Ah well....maybe they would laugh themselves silly and fall off their horses. He shook his head and laughed a little himself.Or maybe, I could just fall on them....
Laughter bubbled up at this conjured picture and he lost his balance as he shook his head again. Rôg crumpled down onto the dirt, his stick skittering away to the side. Others, he knew, would be looking at him rather oddly. Still chuckling, he sat up, brushing the dust from himself as best he could.
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