Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

He opened his eyes. Where am I? It was dark. There were curtains around him, linen? He got up .... no; he had tried. He could not move. What is wrong? He could barely move his head. So weak! Saeryn? He had meant to call her, but his mouth was so dry. He worked some moisture into his mouth.

"Saeryn?" He had meant to call out, but his words came out a whisper. He tried to call her again but could not find the strength. What is wrong with me? Where am I?

Someone came, a balding man, looking care worn. He bent over him.

"Ah, I see you have finally wakened. You have slept long. The king's athelas has done its work again. Shame that he had been away so long journeying across his realms. Here, drink this."

He opened his mouth and let the water pour in, drinking greedily, but coughed most of it away. When the fit had passed he felt weaker than ever. But he was determined to speak.

"Where am I?" His voice was a mere wheeze.

"You are in the Houses of Healing. You have been here some long while, but you will be on the mend now. If you like I will send news to your wife."

He nodded and sighed again. Then he slept.