Braigion stared at the reflection of himself in the water, mouthing and quietly whispering words. Whatever happened during the time where his memory is blank, it probably contributed to the fact he had improved lot in understanding people and even speaking their language.
Lamaenon was a good communicator, the Avar gave the ellon credit for that…and his impeccable timing. That was twice now the silver-head came right when the situation was dire; unless he accounted saving Eltawĭnā from the undead.
Braigion’s stomach churned slightly at the thought of the blood land, and leaned over to the side in case something…decided to come up.
All that is green and all that is serene, how in the world did he manage to find himself in a land literally stained with blood? He did not even think it was possible. Lamaenon, when he found the Avar half in one of the red pools, said it was the dirt that made it look like blood.
It would take a lot more convincing than that to have it believable; Braigion could smell things like a wolf, and it was nasty when that swarmed his senses; and even worse when he shamed himself by retching…twice.
Not he was already shamed by managing to find himself in a land and not even remember how that happened. Who knows…it might have been something he ate, and that was what he concluded; the dry land was an infestation of disease anyway.
Who knows…?
Away from that, Eltawĭnā was beyond overjoyed when Braigion walked into the house in Imladris. As for the lady, Huoriell…the Avar guessed she was glad to see him well, though Braigion remained suspicious…of everyone.
Yes, he appeared like them once more, albeit a bit different because of the cowl he wore. It hid his earrings and father’s leadership sign from everyone, so that was good enough reason to wear the stupid thing. People would consider him strange for those oddities (though quite a few have seen the trinkets already, and likely not understand its meaning). As much as Braigion was well aware that he could rip the crude metal right off, his ear was already deformed and mutilated as a result from being one of the first subjects of hot molten material being cooled right onto flesh. Might as well amputate the appendage at this point…
Regardless, this is the third chance this place will get; mostly for Eltawĭnā’s sake than anything; which Braigion was still trying to figure out why the elfling preferred being with him than his own kind. The persistent elfling…
The Avar stood up from the bank of the lake and went over to one of the trees, removing the cowl and proceeded to use it as a cushion. Braigion didn’t care if he would be asleep for days; both Eltawĭnā and Huoriell wanted him to rest. Well, when one doesn’t sleep enough (if that was a thing for elves, though it was true for the Avar), then they will be out of it for days.
The place is safe enough, they say…and so far the only remote place in this safe vale is at the lake.
