In quick succession, six more sneezes erupted from Mellon. He was cold and wet again. The battle had raged on for quite some time. Ędegard had proven a capable leader, and the shieldmaidens had proven themselves doughty in battle.
It was time for him to prove that he ha the wits to come in out of the cold. How his sister would have laughed, he thought, as he excused himself from the children; they hardly noticed, having rallied behind Ędegard. Ędegard nodded, and said, "Before you get really badly sick, huh?"
With a sinking feeling that it was a bit late to prevent that, Mellon headed back to the Inn.
As he walked through the door, the innkeeper tsked at him, sounding just like Miss Ruthven had. "I've kept the teakettle hot. I assume you'd like some more soup?"
He nodded, and then regretted it, putting a hand to his head.
"Don't dally with that soup," the innkeeper admonished the staff, and muttered, "Young fool. Why do teenage males always think they are immortal and invinceable?"
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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