The wind blew gently into other’s homes, and the slams of wooden window panes could be heard throughout. It was particularly cool and breezy for a spring day.
A dimly lit lantern flickered in a dingy room. Various smells of musty wet wood and men who had not seen a drop of water in days. In this shabby room, a pale elven woman lay on an uncomfortable bed with healing creams applied to her wounds. Gabusmead, Nimbus, and Fuzz had found her in the center of the village which caused a crowd of creatures to run and panic. Her most notable feature was her pointed ears, which signaled to the beastfolk that she was sent to cause them harm or worse: a life of slave labor. Knowing that Bilgard the Great was now deceased, tensions rose among the beastfolk knowing they no longer had someone to look out for them and would need to fend off threats on their own.
Gabusmead insisted the elven woman get treatment right away, and then they could determine if she was a threat to them. Surprisingly, Winthorp was still asleep through all of this, leaving the remaining three with this matter. Feddwig remained downstairs in his tavern, serving those who dared to enter. Nolan, the elven baby, remained below the bar by Feddwig’s furry feet, where he was fiddling happily with one of the empty bottles without the slightest hint of boredom. Vision slightly blurred, Ellanora awoke to three figures shrouded in fog. Without hesitation, she grabbed her knife and brandished it at these unknown beings.
A huge velvety sensation gripped the princess and she groaned in pain. Unsure of what was lifting her, she clenched her knife, determined to strike what was holding her. Making it seem as though she was giving up, her body went limp for a moment and her breaths shortened. The being tightly gripping her, loosened their handle on her, and with this, the princess swung her knife rapidly. Slicing a corner of the creature’s body, they roared slightly, blood pattering on the wooden floorboards. Hitting the floor, the elven woman quickly found a corner and slowly stood up, continuing the brandishing of her knife as a threat.
“Aye, me lady, yee need to just relax.” A gentle voice said slowly approaching the princess.
Her breathing was heavy and uncertain, still had her dagger pointed toward the voice approaching her. The footsteps of those who grew closer to her came to a halt and silence filled the air.
“I see we gently knock her out.” A deep, gruff voice bellowed, awakening an even louder presence.
“Aye, yee lads ever heard of whisperin’?”
The bright-haired loudmouth was awake, and before him was a fiery woman who was ready to take on all of these men. The mere sight of this put Winthorp into a fit of hysterics. Laughing seemed to ease the tension in the air, but the elven woman was still guarded.
Winthorp confidently leaped off his bed. When his feet planted the wooden floorboards, Gabusmead noticed a change in his friend. His aura was no longer wallowing within himself and hope poured from his body. Winthorp strode over to his friend and gave him a subtle nod, assuring his friend not to worry about him. Gabusmead grinned with delight to see his friend finally in good spirits. Before discussing anything personal, Winthorp asked the question that was rushing through everyone's minds.
“Now lassy, who the hell are yee, and why yee bleedin’ as much as you are?”
The elven woman adjusted her eyesight with the beings in front of her; what was presented before her didn’t seem to scare her, but she was confused about whether or not it was real. Two dwarves, as well as two very differently presenting beastfolk.
“Am I dreaming? Are all of you real?”
The men looked at one another with confusion and wondered if this elven woman was crazed.
“Lass, we can show yee somethin’ that proves were real if you’d like.”
Gabusmead flushed a scarlet red, knowing what Winthorp was implying. Bewilderment spread across the elven woman’s face and she was curious about what the dwarf was implying.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Aye, lemme show yee thee-”
Gabusmead grabbed hold of his friend's pants and gave him a deadpan expression.
“What? Thee lassy wanted to see if we were real?”
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Gabusmead approached the princess cautiously and looked at the wrappings that he covered her body in. Upon further inspection, the woman noticed some of the torn clothing on the dwarf before her. She was shocked that the dwarf was willing to care for her without even knowing who she truly was. This meant a lot to her, but she soon realized that he undressed her. She raised her dagger once more to the dwarf and he stopped in his tracks.
“Are you truly kind of heart, or are you all perverts of sorts who just want to take advantage of some poor innocent girl?”
An unexpected voice squeaked amongst them to attempt to resolve the situation before it got out of hand.
“Please my lady, we do not wish to harm you. We merely just want to ensure that you are okay. Promise!” Nimbus said, his voice slightly cracking. Fuzz grinned at how Nimbus evolved in confidence in what seemed overnight.
Laughing at the squeak, Winthorp slapped Nimbus’s back a bit rougher than anticipated, and he had to re-adjust his spectacles. However, the one in good spirits was our elven woman. She felt herself suddenly collapse, and both Nimbus and Gabusmead caught her before she hit the ground. They carefully placed the woman back on the bed and fixed her posture to make her comfortable.
“Me lady please don’t move around so much, yee wounds are very serious. Yee will put more of me healing serum on yee to help with yer’ wounds.” Gabusmead grabbed a vial full of green liquid from his belt and without even thinking, unsealed her clothing. The woman had no strength within her to reprimand him. With a few red faces except for Nimbus, the others turned away and distracted themselves somehow.
“I am going to check on Feddwig and the kid down in the bar,” Fuzz said as he quickly left the room and went down the rickety steps.
Silence engulfed the air in the room, and Gabusmead remained hyper-focused on the task at hand. The elven woman, surprised by the gesture, decides to lower her guard with this almost comical group of varying races.
“Thank you…” the elven woman quietly mumbled to the dwarf.
After several moments, Gabusmead began to wrap up what he started and the elven felt the serum slightly burning on her wounds. Wincing slightly, the dwarf gently grabbed her hand.
“Me lady, yee will feel a bit of a tingle, that be a good thing. Means yee are reactin’ well too thee medicine.Yee may turn around now.”
Winthorp, shifting his position, immediately begins to bombard the elven woman with questions.
“Now that yee see we mean no harm to ya, lassy, can ya tell us who yee be? Yee mad quite the arrival thar’.”
With little choice, the elven woman felt she needed to mince her words in a way that would not give her identity away or if she should just be fully honest with them. Pondering her next few words carefully, she begins to speak as delicately as she can, not realizing that her tone is a bit naive.
“I am simply a traveler, a nomad if you will. I have been struggling recently when it comes to food and certain territories. I was viciously attacked by-”
“Aye lass, hate to cut yee off, but yee are talking to fancy. All yee have too say is yee got throttled.”
Puzzled by his words, the elven woman tried to piece together what the red-haired dwarf was implying. His heavy accent and his words were unknown to her. Panic began to fill her chest, her heart beating faster than she could think, her eyes darting around the room.
“Define what you mean by…”talking fancy” and why does my matter of speaking confuse you? What is that of your origin besides the obvious.”
“Lass, do yee hear yee self?”
The red-haired dwarf stared at the woman with immense curiosity with his bushy eyebrows furrowed. The dense air filled the already intense room which caused Gabusmead to step in.
“Why don’t yee let thee lady rest, she might like it if short hairy men weren’t crowding her.”
With that, those remaining in the room began to trickle out of the room. This left the elven woman to ponder her thoughts. She was unsure what to do moving forward, could she trust these men? Did they have her best interest? She knew that she was also naive to this outside world. Her wounds were something to attest to how ill-equipped she was and she needed protection. Someone as powerful as her needing help was something she could not comprehend just yet. The men began to find themselves in the bar, Gabusmead enjoying a glass of honey mead and Gabusmead finding himself having a cup as well. As the liquid dribbled into Winthorp’s beard, he looked at his friend Gabusmead. Feddwig, while holding the elven child gently while feeding warm milk, darted between the two.
“Why do you two look like you just got your balls served on a platter to the king?”
“Aye, yee don’t know, yee feel that misses has somethin’ more than she’s leadin’ on…”
Gabusmead swirled his drink, wanting to add to this, but was unsure of what to say. He was conflicted because he felt badly for the woman and her situation, but didn’t want to have his trust questioned. Something about her did not make Gabusmead uneasy or someone who would betray them, instead he sensed she was troubled. Nimbus flicked his ears up and down trying to come up with something to ease everyone’s mind, but was too shy to start up a conversation. The motion did, however, make the elven baby laugh which lightened up the mood. Nimbus continued to move about his ears in a silly fashion which caused the elven baby's infectious giggle to get to everyone else.
“Aye, at least we have thee wee lad to cheer us on.” Winthorp said, downing his drink and motioning for another pour.
Feddwig filled his glass to the brim and it proceeded to slosh all over the bar table. Gabusmead finished his glass and also motioned for another glass. This feeling reignited them in this moment, they drank and laughed. Pressure seemed to leave them and something set fire to them. Something that they have not felt since that horrid day in their village. For once things seemed like they were looking up.
Feddwig noticed that the men were getting a bit rowdy and robust, as stories of war and suggestive stories from them started to spew out as the men drank more and more. This was his cue to put the baby to rest upstairs. The creak of his steps alerted the elven women, as her door slowly began to make a rickety sound.
“Good evening madame, sorry to disturb you, although I am sure the gaggle of idiots downstairs are not helping either.”
“Their voices are quite soothing…some may say the heavens have blessed such drivel…” the elven women said sarcastically.
Feddwig laughed, so much so his belly jiggled.
“I like you, you’re a fighter ma’am and one with good humor too!”
Rolling her eyes, she weakly looked up at the furry being and what he was holding froze her in her place. The pointed ears, the deep blue eyes, and of course, the sun colored hair. The elven baby also seemed to react, by reaching out his tiny palms as if wanting to be held. Feddwig looked at the baby, shocked by the sudden motion, and looked at the woman with a befuddled face. Before he could even question anything, the woman sat up slightly, wincing, but tears welled up and streamed down her face. The next few words she uddered made Feddwig confirm his suspicions.
“Elliard….your alive…”