Outcast Among the Reeds

Chapter Six

   He watched her. Even though he could barely see her through the drooping branches and thick clusters of dark green pine needles, he still watched her. He could not seem to pry his eyes away from her. She knelt in stoic reverence, blissfully unaware of the layer of brown needles that pricked her bare legs. So still was she that, if not for the gradual rise and fall of her chest and the way the breeze played with the long strands of her hair, he would have thought her no more than an extremely life-like statue.

   He shifted his vantage slightly. Sweet serenity surrounded her, expressed in the peaceful contours of her face; the slack muscles in her shoulders; the slow, even breaths. Despite the bandaged wounds that likely pained her, she never grimaced nor stirred to give any sign that they bother her at all.

   Glancing at her bandages, he once again recalled the night before. After bringing her back to camp, he had taken up watch again, hopeful of catching either the bugbear or the death-sentenced Lord for their contributions to her injuries. Half the night had passed, uneventful, when Tal emerged and verily forced him to give up his vigilance. He had acquiesced grudgingly and crawled into his own tent, but sleep had eluded him. He could not keep the image of her scored back from his mind, whether his eyes were open or closed. Even meditation had failed to calm his turbulent emotions. So, when dawn peeked through the dew-laden leaves, he emerged, doing his best to hide his weariness from Aaron, who had taken the last watch. Though, she looked hardly any better than he felt.

   In another vain attempt to distract himself, he had returned to the victimized family to see if they had received another unwelcome visit in the night. Thankfully, they had not. They had, in return, asked hopefully if he had disposed of the creature.

   He shook his head. "I did encounter it last night, and managed to wound it, but it eluded a death stroke." He decided not to mention exactly how that encounter had taken place. While he felt undeniably certain that the Lord had intentionally enslaved the she-elf, he could not prove it beyond doubt and therefore would not risk him finding out that he knew. For now, he would keep her existence a secret. And when she gave him the evidence he needed, he would gladly lob off the human's head.

   "S-Sir Elf?" The woman before him queried, making Jachime realize he was scowling. He sighted internally, both to relieve a bit of his pent-up frustration and because of the way the woman addressed him. Was it truly so difficult for humans to pronounce elven names? He had properly introduced himself to this family yet they insisted on calling him 'Sir Elf'.

   Sliding a disarming smile onto his lips, he replied smoothly, "Forgive me. I am frustrated that my prey has eluded me."

   Both of them.

   Beside her, her husband nodded as though sympathizing. And he might well have. What could be seen of his burly arms displayed signs of a rougher lifestyle than sheering the sheep in his fields. His dark eyes had a sharp edge to them that deliberately assessed the elf standing before him. At his hip rested the worn but well cared for hilt of a hand-and-a-half longsword. He had not seen the blade, but Jachime could easily imagine that it, too, had received pristine care.

   Perhaps he had spent some time as an adventurer, he thought. That would explain why  he had so readily accepted Jachime's claims that their tormentor may be a figure from human nightmares. On the other hand, his wife and three children had the innocent looks of city-bred, though losing their grandfather had taken its toll on them.

   "Have you need of assistance, ya need but ask, Jachime," the man offered earnestly, caressing the hilt of his blade with his thumb.

   At least he remembers that I have a name, he thought sourly then mentally kicked himself. He had to remember that these people did not get many elven visitors, thanks to Lord Harricine's underhanded hostility towards his kind. If they did not know how to act around his kin, it was their lord's fault, not theirs.