[Durelin]

“Yes, Vrór, yes. The tunnel worked just fine.”

The Dwarf smiled. Just fine. All his work had indeed paid off, and the battle had…well, it must have gone well if he was alive, Athwen alive, and… Who else? The smile disappeared. He had not even thought of everyone’s safety yet! Where was his mind? Only on himself? Well, on his work, anyway… Vrór opened his mouth, trying to form a question on his lips, to voice his concern and affirm his hope, but Athwen continued.

“I told you just now, you know.”

Vrór’s lips remained parted for a moment, and his brow furrowed in both confusion and worry. He wanted to ask if she was sure, but he knew that made no sense. The Dwarf was a very practical person; it was foolish to think for a moment that a young woman wouldn’t know whether or not she said something.

But…he hadn’t known…he hadn’t heard, or…something. She was not more than a couple feet from him! How could he not have heard? Vrór tried to remember what she had said just before he asked about the tunnel, but he just felt like he was getting more and more lost in a fog.

“Do you think you can get up and let me help you take this off?”

Still wondering about this “fog,” the Dwarf did not take this as a question but rather a command, and started to try and rise before he even considered whether or not he could. Using the arm he could move, he planted his hand on the ground, and began pushing himself up, his arm trembling as he did so. He felt Athwen’s strong helping hands on him. The firmness of her touch allowed him to look at her with clearer eyes.

“Thank you, Athwen,” he said, “A hundred, thousand times thanks.”

With the woman’s help, Vrór very quickly was sitting up, though some of his dizziness returned so that he desired to fall back again and shut his eyes. Something caught the Dwarf’s eye, even through the haze, and suddenly a young man, one of the slaves – or former slaves, rather – was beside him.

“Do you mind, sir,” the boy began a little hesitantly, “if I help you stay up? I mean…you’ve got to need it after that…” he trailed off.

“Thank you,” Vrór said, sounding a little breathless. It was much harder work than it should have been to keep his torso up. He definitely needed the young man’s support from behind, and could hardly argue with any help he was given, from anyone.

Soon his mail hauberk was removed, and he felt considerably more freedom of movement. He winced and had to grind his teeth together to keep from crying out, as it had been impossible to remove the garment without jostling and moving his bad arm a bit.

When the hard work, at least for Vrór, was over, he glanced around, and seeing some familiar faces he tried to remember what it was he wanted to ask Athwen. Then he was lowered back down, and he really felt the memory escape him. The young man sat next to him again, and the Dwarf searched his face looking for some sort of reminder. Soon he returned to his confusion surrounding his question about the tunnel, though he did not know what it had to do with the boy, and he frowned.

“Athwen,” he began quietly – subdued, “Did I ask you about the tunnel before, too?”