Rest and Recuperation: A Sisters Tale

It was nearly twenty four hours before Seymour awoke.  He was in a comfortable bed and a roaring fire was in the grate.  As he began to stir, Gwendolyn leaned over him and said, “Are you okay, Hun?  You seemed to have some awful nightmares.”

“Where are we?” he questioned, quite confused.

“We are in an elven village.  They brought you here when they found you passed out in the snow,” she said in a half truth.

“But they tied us up . . .” he began.

“Oh, that must have been what you were dreaming about,” she said compassionately.  “It explains why you struggled so in your sleep.  Well it’s all okay now,” she said giving him a gentle pat.

“The Elves rescued us?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yes, they did.  They found you in the snow, and brought you here.  You really should thank them.”

Maya too was in a nearby bed.  The cold had truly taken its toll on her.  Breena had managed to save her fingers and toes, but she remained weak from her ordeal.  The Elves had assisted by giving her and Star a drink made of various barks that raised their temperature, but she would still need at least another day in bed.

*                      *                   *

Wil had taken the absence of the others harder than she would want to let on.  On their return, she sat for several hours with the sleeping Maya and Seymour.  When the big man began to come around, she quickly left the cottage, however.   She wandered over to where their animals were being kept, and started to sort through her gear, for no other reason than to have something to do.

As she did, she unwrapped the sheet of burlap which she had rolled around the gilded sword she had found outside the temple.   An Elf working nearby caught sight of the blade, and beckoned her to bring it closer.  The tall pale figure gently removed it from its sheath and examined the blade.

“Very good,” the elf said, and handed it back to her.

An hour or so later the Elf returned with the common-speaking elder.

“May I see your blade as well?” the village leader asked.

Wilberta again went and retrieved the sword from her baggage.

“Where did you come by this?”  the elder asked.

“It was found among the dead in the dry lands,” she responded.

“And was it’s bearer among the dead?”

“I guess so,” Wil answered a little defensively.

“Please do not take offence,” the elder continued.  “It is only that it is a sad message you bring, as we knew its wielder well.”

“Sorry,” Wil muttered.

“This blade is of elvish make.  It was carried by a half-Elf of the Lake Clan.  The blade is quite special, especially in elfish hands.  Though it is not a ‘named blade,’ it is still of a type.  The sword is a ‘feather blade’.”

“Feather?”  Wil questioned.

The elder said, “Yes, this blade was made with old magic from a yet older blade.  It has just enough remaining power to allow its bearer to not tire in its use.  A warrior brandishing this blade would not fatigue, nor would the sword feel any heavier at the end of a battle than it did at its beginning.  That is why we call it a ‘feather blade’.”

“Should be give it back to their clan?  Or, what?”  Wil asked a little unsure of what exactly to say.

“No, the blade is now yours,” the senior Elf said.  “Keep it well, and it should keep you well.”  The elves then held to fingers to their foreheads, bowed, and departed.

*                   *                     *

Later that evening, the companions gathered together at Maya’s bedside.   Breena said that her recovery was good, and that they could possibly travel again in a day or two.

“We are welcome for as long as it takes,” Thilda said.  “They have assured me of that.  They don’t expect anything from us either.  It is a matter of hospitality to them.  Though a gift would not be refused.”

“We have plenty enough to offer,” Gwendolyn said.  “What do you think would be appropriate?  You seem to understand their ways,” she said with a wink at Thilda.

Before she could answer Wil interjected, “The sword I found is an Elf blade, and it’s magic.”

“Really?”  Gwendolyn said curiously.  “How do you know?”

“The Elves saw it and told me so.  It’s a ‘feather blade’.”

“They saw it?”  Thilda questioned.

“Yes, and they told me about it, and that it had belonged to a friend of theirs.  Then they said I should take good care of it.”

“If they said for you to keep it, it would be inappropriate to give it to them as a gift for hospitality,”  Thilda said thoughtfully.

“Is gold appropriate?”  Maya said from her bed.

“It can be, but some of the crystals may be more so,” Thilda suggested.

It was agreed that some of the smaller crystals would be offered to their hosts.  The party then split up to have another safe night in warm beds.



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