Alive?

It seemed that he had been floating through his past for several years now. It was like watching his entire life at a distance, through a thick morning fog. His childhood friends, his first time out in the forest, his first lesson with a bow when he had practiced for so long that his hands had blistered and bled. He relived his past triumphs; his first love found, and then lost, the laughter and revelry that took place at parties, the laughter and revelry that took place after parties! He remembered the kind words of encouragement from his mother and the pragmatic, sometimes harsh wisdom of his father. He also remembered his lust for gems and precious metals, how his eye always searched for glittering craftsmanship. Fond memories of his first “adventure” when he traveled to meet his new mentor Deedra Garnet in the far off city of Caercaster made him smile. He relived his excitement as he entered the city gates for the first time, his wonderment as he watched Deedra’s skilled hands create fantastic works of art, his feeling of liberation as he skipped across rooftops on dark nights.

Suddenly the soft white mist about him evaporated. The sky came into sharp focus, it was night and the stars filled the background with uncounted winking specks of light. He saw himself from the back, standing in a narrow alleyway next to someone else. They approached the back door of a building, the other person reached for the door latch. He watched in horror as this particularly painful memory flooded into him. There was an argument which boiled over into a physical confrontation that spilled into the building. From outside in the dark alley he watched helplessly, unable to close his eyes as the two figures ran from the building just seconds before it erupted into hungry flames. Before he could grasp what was happening his whole world became encompassed in biting, hot fire. He writhed in pain, tried to run from it but it was everywhere, there was no escape! Slowly the fire was replaced by thick black smoke. He coughed as it snaked into his lungs, burning his throat and squeezing the air from his body. Things became hazy again and he felt himself losing consciousness. He came to again but he was falling now. Lightning flashed and rain poured down around him. Falling, falling then choking again as he plunged below icy dark water. Blackness took him then and the silence was deafening.

The first thing that came to him was the cheerful chirping of birds which was odd to him. Why were birds singing in a thunderstorm? The next thing that registered with him was warmth; he hadn’t been warm in a long time, and dry too. It reminded him of a warm summer day in Kemmermere. What happened to the rain? Like waking up from a deep sleep, his senses slowly came back to him. Hesitantly he opened his eyes, squinting as daylight shone down on him. Waiting for a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare he chanced a look around. He was lying on a pile of blankets in the corner of a small, single room building. There was no furniture in the room, just a small hearth on one wall, an abnormally tall door in another, and a small window opposite him that bathed him in warm sunlight. Was this a dream now? Ademar wondered to himself. He had never seen this place before. It seemed alien to have no furnishings, and no conveniences just bare walls.

Well, there was no sense in just sitting around this place, wherever he was. As he attempted to sit up Ademar realized that he was not dreaming. His body was sore all over, and joints creaked in protest as he struggled to sit up. It was only then, when the blanket that was covering him fell away that he realized he was completely naked and covered in dark, purple bruises. What was going on here? He reached up to run his hands through his hair and discovered another surprise. Some sort of cloth on his head? No, wrapped around his face! What was this?! Ademar clawed at the damp, somewhat sticky, wrappings tearing them from his head and throwing them to the ground. He had to get out of here! But where were his clothes, where was his cloak and belt, and… Frantically he jumped up and began searching his makeshift bed then the spartan room. Where was his belt pouch, what happened to his tools and gold?!

Without warning the door opened and a large figure entered the room. Ademar was standing there in the middle of the room, wearing only that which Sanastarus had given him, and staring at the hairy chest of a centaur. The thin elf took a step back, attempting to get a better view of (and put more distance between) the centaur. The creature was old that was certain. His hair was streaked with more grey than its original auburn color. The skin that was visible on his arms and torso was tanned and weathered from years in the sun. Ademar nearly gasped aloud when his gaze crossed the face of the centaur. It was stern and wise and scarred. Only one hazel eye peered back at him, the other was missing, replaced with a garish pink socket that still needed healing. He found himself staring at it but could not stop himself.

A deep baritone voice broke his trance. “Quel andune.” the centaur said. Ademar stood there dumbly for several heartbeats taken aback. He had not heard that term in over two years, had not heard that language in years. A look of concern crossed the centaur’s face and he leaned closer to the elf. “Lle tyava quel?” he asked. Although Ademar had spoken elven all his years it was difficult to understand the intricate language spoken in such a deep voice, it seemed unnatural. Realizing that he was being waited on, he snapped out of his trance.
“Ah, yes, good afternoon to you.” He began, “Yes, I am well, as well as can be expected considering…” he glanced down at his hairless figure to accentuate his point. The centaur smiled and produced a bundle from his side and holding it out before him. “I took the liberty of having your things mended and washed.” He said. “They were looking a little worse for wear.”
“Thank you,” Ademar replied as he hastily unrolled the bundle and began to dress. He noticed that his clothes, boots, and cloak were all there but his sword and belt pouch were missing. Choosing to wait for an appropriate moment he continued to dress. “How long have I been asleep?” He asked, trying hard not to stare at the creatures face.
“I know not for certain.” The centaur replied. “I found you unconscious near the river and unconscious you have been since I brought you here three days past.” Without waiting for a response from the elf Vantil continued. “I decided that if you are the enemy of one of those goblin abominations, it was safe to believe you to be a friend of the forest.
Tell me now, am I correct in this assumption?”
Ademar looked up, craning his head to see the face of the old druid. The druid looked down, his remaining eye holding Ademar in a hard gaze that seemed to pierce his very soul.

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I would like to give credit where it is due. The elvish language used here is borrowed from The Grey Company (www.grey-company.org). Quel andune ~ Good afternoon. Lle tyava quel ~ Are you well?

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I would also like to give some visual aid as to the wider geography of the story, as I have not heard any complaints from TMBTS, I am assuming I have his blessing on this.