[Cimmerian]

Bulvard found himself drawn towards Tumnaooriel once more, overwhelmed with the desire to protect her. The large warrior looked away from the battered form of Calixto and put his arm around the sobbing woman. She shuddered and held on to him like a helpless child, even as she did Bulvard caught a fleeting glimpse of a smile curl Calixto’s pale lips. Only a fleeting glimpse. He shook his head.

Calixto didn’t seem mortally wounded, just tired and weary. Why did Tumnaooriel say she couldn’t save him. What did she feel when she touched him. Bulvard’s thoughts raced in spells of pity and suspicion that fought to gain a foothold in his mind. He stood silently with Tumnaooriel sobbing against him as Culloth and Harolas inspected the fallen Calixto.

“It is necessary to save him,” Harolas mumbled.

“I agree with the elf,” spat Culloth, “You. Get away from Bulvard and do your best to revive him, it’s the least you could do to be of some use in this journey.”

Bulvard stared grimly ahead, his protective hold on Tumnaooriel ever tighter.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” said Gwyn, “She has done her best, which is more than I can say for you.”

“And what does that suppose to mean?” Culloth barked, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“You have the sense to ascertain what I mean, or do you not?” Gwyn responded in kind.

“Lady of Rohan, you will keep a civil tongue…” Culloth growled.

“Enough!” Bulvard’s voice boomed, “Calixto lies there, possibly dying and you can do nothing save find each other’s faults.”

“Nay, not dying… not just yet,” gasped Calixto, his eyelids fluttering.

Harolas and Culloth rushed over to help the elf lord to his feet. Tumnaooriel turned around in disbelief as the elf lord struggled to speak.

“Listen to me… there is great evil, and it has trapped our fair comrades over yonder.”
Calixto pointed south. “They also have the Crimson sword.”

“Then we must go there.” Bulvard said grimly.

“Yes, make haste.” Calixto croaked.

“But, Bulvard… Calixto is not…” Tumnaooriel whispered, her eyes wide with fear. But Bulvard’s grey eyes were cold and hard.