Intermezzo III - Pleas

Intermezzo

Faelnon rubbed the side of his head tiredly. The wagon train that had become the home of the group continued along its bumpy path, oblivious to Faelnon’s attempt at writing a letter. He looked at what he had written so far. He sighed before taking the paper, crumpling it into a ball and hurling it out the open window of his cabin. He leaned back in his chair and looked around the dark room as if the letter he should send would magically appear. He looked at his candle, it had nearly burnt itself into nothingness. He turned his gaze to the sky outside, he could clearly make out the circle of the white moon. It was so alike that night. The night the group was lost. He might have been a leader when collecting the Gifts – that was easy, he had a purpose, and he had friends. Now, however, he is alone. Shandor, Ariea, both were gone. The Order of Cothin-Cal and his friends and confidants, the Wise Elves, were dead and gone. For the first time, he had no idea what to do. He even wondered if anything was worth doing. From what he had seen, this end was unstoppable, maybe it was better just to hide under a rock…

He sighed again, loudly this time. His hands were cold, probably from the icy draft of the window. He rubbed his hands over the candle before it ceased to be, noting the scars he received in his duel with an assassin.

For several minutes he paced, thinking up openings to a letter and dismissing them. Finally, he sunk into his seat again and picked up his quill, the ink on it was dry by now.



The quill hovered above the piece of parchment, as if unsure what to do – how to work. Then it complied with its owner, swiftly leaving a select message on the letter. Faelnon signed it and wrapped it up. He would send it when they next reached a town. He shifted himself to his bed and lay, staring at the ceiling, as if waiting for a reply already.



The letter read:



I need help.

~Faelnon