As I go to turn on my side, pain quickly returns me to my back. The cool silken sheet laying upon my body being the only thing to hide the wide blood tinged dressing on my left thigh. I turn my head to look upon him, the sentinel sat at my bedside…
So much has happened since my husbands passing. My self imposed exile to the dwarven mines..a place of darkness and wonder, where I need not think, simply act with blade in hand. My eventual return to the homestead, where nothing seemed to have changed bar a few new neighbors and the inn becoming more unpleasant by the moment. Of course, there were people that came close to my heart, touching it with words of love and eternity, though eventually wounding it more than ever an orc blade might. Then, there was him.
Often we would exchange a glance, a small smile...I would sit with my company and he normally alone, reading, sometimes watching, always wearing the same familiar black robes. On occasion we even greeted each other, just a few short words. Then one day it changed, we spoke for longer than I can recall and of what I cannot forget, it was a common bond, the grief of a loved ones passing. From then on our conversations became moreso, light hearted and humorous, drink loosening our lips at times. I heard his rich laughter, watched his bright blue eyes reflecting the candlelight from the table, yet I had no idea..
I was stood outside the inn when a stranger struck up a conversation... A man in fine robes, near death at a roadside, a companion of elven descent tending to him, he continued to give details so clear that my stomach turned as I backed away from him. My new found friend had not been in the inn for some time. In my stupidity I allowed the stranger to leave, yet hastily sent word to him via the innkeeper. We met the following day. He spoke in more depth of what he saw, how he thought the man survived, and that he went to trace any sign of where they had headed. After thanking him I rode home, numbed by the past couple of days, and simply wishing to sleep. Was then something odd happened..an elf, stood in the wooded area by the homestead gates, sharp in tongue and very cautious he spoke with me. He knew my friend, and after his questions were answered, urged me to go to him, which I gladly did.
Upon entering the home I noticed its warmth, the air rich with the odd smell of ointments and illness. I apprehensively walked to the bedchamber, but before me did not seem to be my friend, but a man in such pain that it would be forgiven if he no longer wished to fight. I sat on the edge of the bed and spoke quietly to him. Not just that day, but for many more…was on one of these days he spoke of his injuries. He had sacrificed himself to save the life of the elf, one closer to him than his own blood. Was also on one of these days he professed his love for me…
To be continued
