Jarlyn's face was taught and white as he scrabbled at the ice with his hammer. His stomach was angry with something and his head was warm with fever. He had not been able to eat his breakfast for it had stubbornly refused to stay put in his stomach. Sweat pricked his forehead, and streamed down his back, even though the air was chill.
Swallowing, he tossed a chunk of ice feebly, and watched it skitter across the ice. A leathered hand dropped on his shoulder. Staring, Jarlyne glanced up and saw --
Jynne. That man who slipped with the shadows, became one with them, the man who had suggested the silly idea of blocking the elvish cave. All that work, for naught. Besides, it was bad form. Form in its very baddest, leaving such enemies to rot and die like that. At least give the vile things a fighting chance...He snorted silently to himself. "Swift and silent as a shadow, aren't you, Jynne?" he asked, tightly.
Jynne's face broke out in a wan smile, revealing yellowed teeth. Jarlyn shuddered. "It pays to be able to walk quietly, Jarlyn," he said softly.
Jarlyn glared back at him. "Walking quietly pays when only among enemies," he countered, trying to chuckle and failing miserably.
The barest grunt of a laugh escaped Jynne. "You feeling all right?" he asked. "You are in a muck of a sweat."
"Yes...I'm fine, thank you. Now, if you don't mind, we're supposed to be drilling holes so that the elves can take a bit of a tumble. Or is the sun too bright for you?"
He smirked as Jynne gave him a dirty look and skulked off to begin to drill another hole.
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