[Folwren]

Kwell felt relieved when Shae spoke up, but she had hardly introduced the fellowship when she suddenly dried up, the proper introduction cut short. At least, that’s what it seemed to him. Not half of what had happened was explained, and the others were left gaping at the newcomers as Khamir dragged Shae away. Kwell shifted uncomfortably on his seat as he studied the faces of the men and women, so recently slaves.

All at once, someone spoke out from among the crowd of faces. “What’re you here for? What makes you think we need any help from you? You won’t be able to save us from anything any more than we could!”

“Aye! And why should we listen to you? What do you think we are? We’re tired of being told what to do and bossed about like slaves! We’re not slaves any more!”

A growl of agreement greeted this company and the faces looking up towards the mounted fellowship appeared grim and uninviting. Kwell scowled bitterly and felt impatience rising inside of himself. A long pause followed. Clearly, they wanted an answer, but it was equally clear that the members of the fellowship had no ready reply.

“So, you don’t have anything to say after all?” called out a taunting, jeering voice.

Kwell’s impatience burst forth and he urged his horse forward. “Oh, shut up!” he called out, his voice cracking with anger at their apparent thickness. “You’re all fools! Can’t you see they’ve come to help? Quit being idiots!” he shouted again, as another murmur rose. “You were all too cowardly to come help Azhar and me, except Shae, and they helped! They’re wanting to help you, too, are you just going to – to send them off packing?” His fury choked him and he became mute suddenly. He writhed in his saddle, his jaw clenching in and out, but before he could speak again, he felt a hand rest gently on his arm. He looked up into the eyes of one of the fellowship, the healer's husband, he thought. Dorran shook his head gently and then turned his eyes towards the men and women.