Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first; the lesson afterwards.
~Vernon Law
I awaken the next morning in a small, cozy room, and the first thing I realize is that I’m warm. Warmer than I’ve been in a long time. The room is small, and round, and the smooth walls and covered with hangings of pale golden-yellow. The snaps and cracks of a small fire can be heard. I think to myself that it must be a dream...until my body slowly starts reasserting the dull pain of my injuries, both new and old. That thought reminds me of Danner...the chase through the house...I sit up in shock, ready to run, when a wave of pain and nausea washes over me, and a firm, yet gentle hand on my shoulder forces me back down.
“Easy now, child,” a voice says soothingly. “Rest easy. No harm will come to you.” The voice is soft, warm, and accented lightly. An Elvish accent...
My eyes jerk up to the face that the voice belongs to, although they take a few minutes to refocuse. Hair as golden as the sun frames a narrow face with sharp, almost delicate features, and canted ears can be glimpsed under the hair. An Elf! I’ve never seen one up close, or heard much about them. His clothes are rich silks and velvets of deep green and soft gold. An Elflord...
I suddenly realize I must still be in that same house that Danner and I were working, and panic races through me. The Elflord sees the look on my face, and, although he must know, he asks why I look so frightened.
“Please,” I stammer out, my voice not more than a whisper, “don’t give me to the Guardians. Please, sir...they’ll hang me...” I drop my eyes and nervously pick at the soft white blanket spread over me.
The Elflord is silent for a long moment, and finally he sighs. “Child, I wouldn’t turn you over to the Guardians. A child of...what? Eight? Maybe nine? doesn’t deserve to be hanged. No, lass, you’re safe here. I’ll not give you to the law.”
I’m stunned by what I hear. I must be dreaming. But no, I hurt too much to be dreaming. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Oh, thank you...”
The Elf shifts in his chair and nods briefly. “You will be staying here, child...unless you desire to go back out there. You would not get far.” Eyes of brilliant blue study me in much the same way one would study some sort of rare and unusual animal. “Not that you would last long out there. I’d estimate you’ve got a sprained, if not broken, ankle, a few bruised or broken ribs, and a nasty concussion from that fall down the stairs. Ah, poor child, I am very sorry about that. We never meant for you, or your friend, to get hurt...” He shrugs and rises. “I have called for a physician. He should be here within the hour. I suggest you stay in bed until he arrives.” He turns with a swirl of silk and exits the room.
I’m dazed with shock...and pain, too, I suppose. Still unsure of whether this latest turn of events is good or just a guilded cage, I burrow deeper under the blankets, ignoring the pain of moving (and reveling in the warmth), and I fall asleep once more.
I awaken to the sound of voices: the smooth and calm voice of the Elflord, and a deeper, rougher voice. Must be the physician. I open my eyes groggily and view the newcomer with no small amount of apprehension.
He’s tall, although not as tall as the Elf, and not nearly as slender, either. His hair is silvered with age, and his brown eyes peer out from under heavy white eyebrows. His clothes are rumpled, although clearly of expensive material, and he carries a black bag in one hand. I open my eyes a bit more and listen to the two speak.
“Look, Sandiss, she is a child. And a very scared one at that. I cannot turn her over to the Guardians, not after the way she looked when she begged me not to. She is terrified, and in pain, and she does not deserve to be hanged. You know that is what they will do to her, and without so much as a second thought. Please, old friend, humor me. She needs your help.”
“She’s a thief, still!” the physician protests. “By the stars, are you going to forget just how she got herself hurt? By trying to steal from you! Ethlenden, you can’t be serious...” Pause. “Bother. You are, aren’t you?” A resigned sigh. “Very well.”
The Elf (I suppose Ethlenden is his name) glances down, and a smile touches his face. “She is awake now, too.” He turns that warm smile on the physician. “You know I would not ask without reason, my friend.”
The physician, still grumbling to himself, pulls a chair to the side of the bed and lowers himself into it with a sigh. “Yes, yes, well, one can’t argue with stiff-necked Elves.” He peers down at me, and I stare back with unstifled curiosity and no small bit of fear. His expression softens slightly. “There, child, I’m not going to harm you. What’s your name, girl?”
I squirm back down under the blankets. “Rois Melinor,” I mutter, my eyes dropping, and looking anywhere except at him or the Elf. He puts a hand under my chin and tilts my head back toward him.
“Stay still...er...whatever that name was,” he grumbles.
“Rois Melinor,” the Elf supplies from his chair, then turns silent with a chuckle as the physician turns to glare at him.
He turns his attention back to me and intently studies my face. “What hurts?” he asks, after a few minutes.
“Everything,” I mutter, stifling a groan.
“Be more specific,” he complains, setting his bag down on the floor.
I sigh. “My head. My face. My left ankle and wrist. My sides. My shoulders. All over.” I eye him warily. “That help?”
He chuckles in spite of himself. “For so much pain, you’ve certainly got more than enough impudence. All right now, lets take a look at you.” And a long session of poking, prodding, and question-asking ensues. By the end, I’m aching even more, a deep frown is on his face, and the Elf is looking concerned. The physician mutters to himself and picks up his bag once more, then glances at the elf. “Have your servants fetch hot water, clean cloths, and,” eyeing my attire, “new clothes for her, too. Heaven knows she needs ‘em.” The Elf nods and rises, going out into the hallway. The physician eyes me again and harrumphs to himself. “Well, when you go about getting hurt, you certainly do a good job of it, kid.”
“So, what’s wrong with me?” I query. “Apart from pain, I already knew about that.”
He chuckles. “Well, that ankle is broken, and the wrist is sprained, along with a cracked rib and a bad concussion. Apart from that, I’d say you’re just fine.” He chuckles again, and I manage a weak grin.
“Sounds fun. Broken ankle?” I reply. “Does that mean you have to set it?” The thought doesn’t seem pleasant; after all, it’s means more pain.
He nods. “Sorry, girl, and I’m going to do it just as soon as Ethlenden gets back with those cloths and whatnot.” I mumble a curse, and he turns a stern look on me. “You shouldn’t even know words like that exist, young lady,” he scolds.
“Maybe if I was a young lady, I wouldn’t,” I reply, which earns me a laugh.
“Clever child. I suppose Ethlenden was right about not giving you to the Guardians. Waste of a good mind and such.” A servant hustles into the room with the a pile of white cloths and tucked under one arm and a basin of steaming water in both hands. She sets both on a nearby table, giving me a very curious glance, and walks out. Ethlenden returns, and the physician orders him out.
“I can stomach it,” he protests.
“I don’t care,” the physician snaps briskly. “The fewer people, the better. Have a servant stay outside in case I need anything.” Ethlenden nods reluctantly and leaves the room. The physician turns back to me. “Well, are you ready?”
“No,” I mutter. “But that won’t stop you, will it?”
That earns me another laugh. “Clever girl. You’re right on that.” He carefully takes hold of my foot and warns me, “This’ll hurt like hell. I suggest you hold onto something and yell as loud as you want. Just don’t clench your teeth and end up biting your tongue off. Got it?” I nod, taking two handfuls of blanket and a deep breath.
A moment later, pain blazes through me, and my hands clutch the blankets so tightly, my knuckles turn white. I yelp out a stream of agonized curses until the pain dies down a bit and the physician splints my ankle, giving me a reproachful look. “Heavens, child, I didn’t even know such words existed. Terrible mouth you’ve got there.”
I glare back, unabashed. “That hurt!” I snap, adding a few more oaths when he accidentally jostles the aforesaid limb.
He shakes his head. “Children these days,” he mutters. “Well, let’s wrap that wrist of yours now, shall we? And try to restrain yourself somewhat.” Shaking his head still, he carefully wraps my wrist with a length of bandage and puts it in a sling, along with a stern admonition to keep it still. He then cleans all my cuts with something he calls an antiseptic. All I know is that it stings horribly, and I tell him so in no uncertain terms. He shakes his head and doses me with a few vile medicines, then calls Ethlenden back into the room. Already I’m feeling drowsy, and the pain recedes somewhat.
“Keep her in bed for at least a week,” the physician is saying, although the words sound as though from a far away. “Don’t let her eat anything heavy, and...” The words fade into the background as I slowly fall into a deep, drugged, dreamless sleep.
I must have slept through the entire day and night, for when I awaken, the sun is just dawning. Forgetting where I am, I start to rise, but a wash of pain reminds me quite well. Sinking back into the pillows, I alternately doze and watch a patch of light move across the floor until Ethlenden, the Elf, comes in. I don’t hear him enter, and the sound of his voice startles me.
“Awake? And how are you feeling today?” he queries as he sits down in a chair beside my bed.
I keep my eyes on the floor. “How do I feel? Hurting. And thick-headed from whatever that physician gave me. And,” I pause, “a bit hungry.”
“How much are you hurting?” he asks, brow wrinkled in concern.
I frown at my blankets. “It woke me up at dawn,” I admit, rather reluctantly.
Ethlenden frowns. “That was quite a beating you took. Even before you got here. What had happened to you?”
Scowling at the floor, I shake my head. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
His frown deepens. “Tell me anyway.”
My scowl also deepens, but before I can stop myself, I’ve told him everything, from when my parents abandoned me in Kirn to how I got here. When I finish, the patch of sunlight has vanished, and the bells toll the tenth hour. My stomach grumbles and my head aches. I sink back into the pillows with an exhausted sigh, my ankle and wrist throbbing unmercifully.
Ethlenden looks vaguely shocked by my story, and, after several minutes, lets out a sigh and leans back in his chair. “Amazing tale you have there, young Rois. Simply amazing. But it all makes sense, sadly.” He leans back in his chair, fingers tapping on the arm of the chair. “A ghastly truth. If only we could get the Guardians to see it that way...” He sighs again, then snaps upright. “By the stars, do forgive me, Rois, you must be hurting terribly, not to mention hungry! One moment.” He hastens from the room. Weary from the mere telling of my story, I start to doze off once more.
He reenters a few minutes later, followed by a servant girl with a tray of food. The smells make my mouth water, until I find out what it is. Broth...white bread...no real food. I look up accusingly.
“This is all?” I ask, pleadingly.
Ethlenden nods. “Sandiss’ orders, Rois, light foods until you can get out of bed. One week.”
I grumble, “With a diet like this, I’ll never be able to get out of bed.” But I hungrily dig into the food anyway. Once I finish, he pours a measure of one of those vile medicines into a glass. I wrinkle my nose with disgust, but hastily drink it down. The effects are marvelously quick; within ten minutes, the pain begins to fade, much to my relief.
I notice Ethlenden studying me out of the corner of his eyes, and, snuggling back under the blankets, I ask, “What? Why’re you staring at me?”
He starts slightly, and smiles ruefully. “Just wondering about a few things.” He shifts in his seat and asks, “Did you ever learn how to read, Rois?”
I shake my head slowly. “Cobe didn’t know how, and Lisla didn’t have time to teach me. No one here cared whether or not I could read here.” I shrug carelessly. “Not like I was really in a position where I’d need it much, anyway.”
“True,” he murmurs, then looks up at me, a curious glint in his eyes. “Would you like to learn?”
My jaw drops. “You mean...you’d teach me?” He nods, smiling faintly, and I nod. “Oh yes! Please, teach me how...I want to learn.”
I suppose something in my tone strikes his curiosity, for he tilts his head to the side and asks quite seriously, “How much do you want to learn, little Rois?”
I pause and consider, then answer just as solemnly, “Everything.”
He nods and smiles knowingly. “Shall we start now?”