The soft dance of sun plays upon my face, fresh air and the songs of the forest fills my ears. “I am still alive”, I found myself thinking. Slowly Nanthal’s eyes adjust to the daylight. Playful branches scatters the light as I will life back into my limbs.
Sweet smells of incense fill the air, a smell that is foreign to Nanthal, but still calms him in the post-battle recovery.
As he pulls himself up he take stock of his surroundings. A small wooden hut, either close to the forest of deep withing it. There is aura of calmness to it. Herbs and ointments fill the shelves. Walking sticks, or perhaps staffs adorn the one wall, with a beautiful long bow and arrows mounted highest.
An open bed is situated on the other side of the room, without an occupant. Three green turaco’s are perched right outside the door arch, playing in the early morning chill and bringing joy to my weary soul.
Just enough joy to kickstart my body into action. I do not know if the elf that helped me is coming back, or what drove her to help a stranger from another race.
I pull myself up on the sides of the wooden cottage and stumbled forward to towards the door. “If I can just get my direction, the main road should not be too far.”, the young prince thinks to himself.
A rest up high
The morning sun hits his eyes and he takes a step forward into the arch. As his eyes adjusts he finds a small wooden hanging bridge that spans across the forest floor to another tree. With a rush of adrenaline, he realizes he is in a tree house, 8 meters or so up in the air.
He falls back into the tree house, suddenly out of his element and unsure of how stable this structure is. “Where is my armour, my weapons or any of my gear?”, he mutters softly to himself.
The sound of rope tightening finds his ears and he notice the suspension bridge showing movement. Feet on the wooden planks grow closer and in a moment of uncertainty, Nanthal reaches for a staff. He finds the shadows in the room and tries to hide from the alien approaching.
The footfalls land at the edge of the bridge. He sees the boot enter the doorway and in a madman’s vigor, swings blindly. A hand blocks the staff with a catch and a familiar voice shouts back, “Are you rabid?”.
The young face of the elf greets him, with a stern and confused look. “I am sorry young maiden”, he says in a disgraced look. “I did not mean to attack, you, I was just…”, he pauses, “I was scared.” He says admittedly. Knowing he just tried to attack his saviour.
“Slow your vigor human, I didn’t save your life just to take it again”, she jests at his expense. “Lay back down and drink… this.”, she says as she looks through her potions and hands one down to Nanthal.
If there ever was a stranger moment in his life, he has not lived it. Being rescued by an unusual elvish woman, after fighting a devilish creature and loosing some his trusted warriors. He is now in a strange dwelling, high up in the forest tree line, drinking a beverage so bitter, his Aunt’s winter tea doesn’t come close.
Although it does make me feel more relaxed, and calm. “Just rest some more young man. You are still far from healed.”, she insisted, as she propped up the soft blanket for his head.
“I truly appreciate your help. May I ask, what is your name?”, he spoke as a haze set upon him.
She turns around and quietly smiles at the young prince, “Adnilia, I am named, Adnilia” as he speedily slips into a dreamy trance.
