[Aylwen Dreamsong]

“So, I’m really going to die then?” Fidrohir wailed when Jaheira returned with her kit to where the wounded man was sprawled on the ground. She rolled her eyes dramatically as she examined the puncture just below Fidrohir’s ribcage. When Jaheira noted how shallow the wound was, she looked away and tried to suppress a snort of laughter. This act seemed to alarm Fidrohir, for the man began to sob audibly and flinch at Jaheira’s touch. “Oh, please don’t let Vlad deliver a mercy strike! Please! Try fixing it! I’ll…I’ll take it like a man, honest! Don’t let me die!”

“You’re going to die regardless if you keep squirming while I work. Stop flinching! Besides, you know you deserved this wound,” Jaheira murmured as she tried putting medicine to prevent infection onto the quailing Fidrohir. He was too much trouble to heal. He deserved to die anyway. Before long Fidrohir’s fidgeting began to interfere with Jaheira’s efforts. “Stop! Now! No, no! Stop trying to…Snyd! Get over here! Hold this surly, clay-brained death-token still.”

Snyd came over and held Fidrohir down, laughing inwardly at his friend’s cowardice. Jaheira finished dressing the wound some time later, for it was no easy task to remedy a wound with the victim flailing about like some sort of fish. When she was finished, Jaheira left Fidrohir so that the man could sob and wallow in self-pity alone, and went with Snyd to go join Vlad and Khalad, who were watching the Elf. Melost was securely tied and was under sufficient guard, since Khalad could no longer be trusted to guard the Elf alone.

“He’s fine. Fid’s a big baby and he whined the whole time, but he’ll be fine,” Jaheira informed Vlad and Khalad as she sat down near the old fire pit. “Next time lets just let the Elf stab him again. We’d only have to listen to him scream for a few minutes, then we’d never have to bother with it again.”

Jaheira had never meant the comment seriously, but it generated nothing but looks of sincere consideration. She smiled wearily, leaning her head on the trunk of a tree and looking at her slightly bloodied hands. Sighing, Jaheira looked up at Vlad, who was pacing back and forth slowly in front of the elf. They needed to be leaving soon, before someone or something found them. They had been in the small forest for too long, and Jaheira was ready to leave whenever Vlad was. But now Vlad had the Elf to deal with, since he had neglected to kill it on sight.

“What do you think he is doing here?” Snyd mumbled, but his words were easily audible in the silence that had enveloped the group.

“I don’t know,” Khalad replied, and at this Jaheira sent the man a look of complete venom and anger. Of course he knew! Why wouldn’t he know? Jaheira hadn’t heard the whole conversation, but the elf must have told Khalad where, how, and why he had been in the forest alone. But Khalad wasn’t finished. “I don’t think Melost knows either.”

Jaheira tried not to gape at the man. She wanted to make him admit everything that moment, and make him tell Vlad about his talks with Melost. But instead she held her tongue and wiped the angry expression from her face.