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The Warrior Elf
He pulled himself to his feet, and then bowed low.
"Lady, I beg your pardon."
The ground about them was strewn with wolf corpses, and the edge of his cloak was stained with their blood, as with the blood of countless other fallen enemies from other days and battles. The elf was still tired, but he stood tall and straight, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword. If anything, he appeared somewhat stiff, slightly ill at ease in the presence of another person, particularly a young elf maiden. He was not used to society; he was used to defending it. His glance shifted away north momentarily, past the elf girl and towards the forest. He put out a cautionary hand.
"You should not tarry here. I fear that there may be more wolves close by and that these were only the advance guard of a much larger pack. These are not ordinary wolves and their leader is...very dangerous. It is not yet safe"
He paused for a moment, trying to recall all he could of the conventions and pleasantries of society. It had been a very long time.
"You are not hurt, are you? May I assist you in any way?"
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