Blind Seer

Razell Silverfire was not an overly superstitious nor religious individual but, he was becoming desperate for answers and it was showing. Seated at a discarded mead keg which served as a table for the blind old "seer", Razell hesitantly extended his hand across the table to the man.  

I must be a loon, he thought to himself, looking for answers from this wine-soaked human. What could he possibly know? I wonder if Derek put him up to this; how else would he have known of my name? His group had been pushing through narrow, crowded streets when the old man had suddenly raised his head and called out "Razell! My lord!" those milky dead eyes looking right at him. Razell had tried to walk on and ignore the beggar, believing him to be just that, but he continued to cry out and attract attention, attention he and his companions could ill afford. When he cut through the press of humanus intent on throttling the man he was met again with those blank, pupil-less eyes which locked on his own silver irises seeming to see him clearly despite the contrary appearance. It had been quite unnerving but it would be nothing compared to the man's next words which came to him in the high elven tongue.

"The wandering lord of silver and fire seeks his past." It had been spoken by this old, broken man in a way that only elves were capable of doing and this fact hit Razell just as hard as the words he had spoken. 

The seer took Razell's hand in his own wrinkled and dirty appendage. Closing his eyes, the man seemed to fall into a transient state, quiet and still. Then he began speaking the elven tongue again in a voice which carried strength and conviction far beyond his frail body. "Silver of hair and fiery of heart, you seek a past which is hidden from you in the daylight; revealed only recently in fitful dreams. A powerful heirloom has been returned to your hands providing a light to shine upon the shadows of the past. The future will bring great bounty or great sorrow to your people and the key lies in the blindfold you wear." 

The old man's eyes opened, white and unfocused. A wet sheen covered his balding head and face. "Eh? Stopped in to have yer fortune told by old Bill? Three coppers it be, and don't you be thinkin' ye can cheat me on account of my blindness! I know an iron penny when I feel it!" 

Razell looked around at his companions. Derek stood nearby with a dumbfounded look across his sharp features, Vlad shifted uneasily from one foot to the other obviously uncomfortable with the situation, but it was Berkley Whitecloaks' sharp look of interest which gave him pause. The human had understood what the man had said and he knew something, or at least he had made some sort of connection. Razell had to know but this crowded market was not the place for such discussions. 

The silver haired elf pulled away from the old seer and stood hastily. Dropping a silver eagle to the keg which the drunken old man scooped up eagerly and bit down on with his few remaining teeth. "Silver!" The man trumpeted. "Thanks to ye good sir!" But Razell had already swept past the man, hurrying to the inn with his companions in tow. The puzzle before him had just become more complicated and now he was more determined than ever to solve it.