Chapter 4 - Charades
When I came to, I was once again in the bed of the doctor-lady's room. I sat up, ready to defend myself against an attack that never came. I was panting, practically whining, and the doctor said something under her breath and walked away. I felt no pain in my side, so I figured she had healed my broken rib.
And then I remembered what happened outside the cave by the river.
I looked around the large room, frantically looking for Thrin, the only person I held any semblance of a trusting relationship with here, except perhaps for Doctor Lady. I stood from the bed and walked toward the doorway that led to other parts of the cave.
"Hei," a man said. I turned to find Thrin, standing right there at the exit of the doctor's room.
The moment I saw him, I broke down in tears. I held onto him as if he had some kind of obligation to comfort me. I must have lost stability in my own legs, because Thrin had to support me and take me back into Doctor Lady's room. He sat me back down on the bed and crouched in front of me, then said several soft words. I wiped my eyes and tried to stop crying. I attempted to remember my limited training in Norwegian. "Hva?" What?
He said the same words more slowly, said my name in that weird way, and looked up at me with his soft, hopeful brown eyes.
I was at a loss. I had no idea what he was asking, or saying, or if he wanted something from me. Thrin was obviously frustrated too, because he sighed and sat back on his heels, giving up on whatever message he was trying to convey. He stood, paced back and forth for a few minutes, turned to me, then grabbed a chair from the front of the room and placed it near the bed. He leaned forward with his hand outstretched to me, palm up. He gave me a look that said to give him my hand, so I did.
He then pointed to my hand and said, "Hant."He pointed to the large candle on the side-table and said, "Bren," and then looked back at me. He repeated the motions, then with his one hand that did not hold mine, he made a hand gesture that I recognized as meaning "explosion". He made the gesture to signify that something exploded from my hands. He then held his hand over his own heart, mimicked the rhythm of its beating with his hand, and then held his hand still. He repeated the "explosion" gesture from my hand, said "hant brenst", and then again, the stilled heart. He then held up two fingers and grabbed my upper arm with force, making me jump back. I stared at him for a minute, wondering what the hell he was charading. When he made the "explosion" gesture a third time, I grasped his wrist and stared at him, wide-eyed.
I didn't dream it, then, the attack in the woods. I knew the rape had happened; I remembered that vividly, physically, despite the doctor healing me to the point where no wounds remained. But the gestures Thrin was making, they were about my retaliation, my attack on those who attacked me. I was convinced I had dreamed that part, the searing pain felt all over my body, the heat spouting from my fingertips. I held out my hand in front of me, fingers spread, examining the flesh, wondering how on earth it happened.
My arms. Men had been grasping my arms, and they were the first to be hit by my light. I remembered seeing one of them flying through the air and landing a good distance away from me. From what Thrin charaded, it seemed like both of them died. I'd stopped their hearts. Stopped their hearts with my hands. With an explosion of light from my hands.
Thrin grasped my shoulder and shook me gently to get my attention. "Froth," he said, clenching my hand in his, and then he said more words I did not understand, including my name.
I shook my head. "I don't understand, Thrin." I felt like crying again.
The man sighed, bowed his head, then looked at me again. "Da ers Dibella, nei?"While he once again mispronounced my name, he stood and did a strange pose with his hips pushed to the side and his hands atop his head, fingers flared out in a kind of star-burst. If I had a camera I would have taken a picture and posted that on my blog immediately, because it was positively hilarious.
I stifled a laugh. It was time I corrected him. "No, it's Deborah. Deh-bor-ah. Deh... bor... ah. Deborah. Deb, if you want. Just not Debbie or Debra, please."
Thrin stared at me. "Ki Dibella?"
I sighed. "DEB... OR... AH." I was beginning to think this guy was a bit on the slow side.
Thrin's expression changed from hopeful to shocked. He smoothed his hand down his scruffy face and groaned, flaking off the rest of his dried-blood warpaint. He scratched the back of his neck and his expression changed to sheepish.
Sheepish? What the hell, guy. I was beginning to get a migraine, and rubbed my temple.
Doctor Lady walked up to Thrin and muttered something under her breath, then made it a point to allow me to see her roll her eyes at me.
What the hell did I do?
When a tall, scary-looking man with intricate warpaint on his face walked up to the doctor's doorway, Thrin immediately turned to the doctor and made what I figured was a "hush" sound, then approached the man at the doorway. They had an animated conversation. Thrin appeared angry at the scary man, who obviously wanted to come in, but Thrin wouldn't let him. Instead, he grabbed whatever the man held in a sack and carried it in his arms as he walked back over to me with a dire look at his face. The scary man walked away, laughing.
I pointed to the bulging sack. "Hva... er?" I asked what it was in probably bad Norwegian.
Thrin animatedly shook his head from side to side and backed away, holding the sack tightly against his torso.
I reached out for it and he backed away out of my reach. "Nei, nei,"he said. He set the sack down in the hallway then came back over to me.
"Hlitha," he said, "vler," he pointed toward the hallway, and talked slowly, annunciating with care, "truer da ers Dibella," he said while pointing at me." Truer da ers mina kune,"he pointed at himself."Nuk... Garthek," he used his fingers to mimic horns on top of his head.
Got it. Garthek equals Horn Helmet Guy. Equals devil. Coincidence.
Thrin continued."Garthek ki trun. Garthek fysan... da... dath." With those last three words he jabbed his index finger at my sternum. It hurt. Maybe that was the point."Sitja med zeik,"he pointed at himself. "Sitja med zeik ath lafa."He was finished talking now. With the last sentence he held my hands in his. His eyes were pleading with me to do something, perhaps say something or agree with something he said. I thought I'd seen this look in his eyes before.
One of the last words he said rang a bell, but I didn't know if it was by coincidence or because it meant something similar in any of the various languages I dabbled in.
"Sit... Sitte... ja?" It was sort of the same in German. Sitzen, ja. Sit, yes. Could he have been saying something similar? I doubted it, but I went with my gut instinct.
He gave a slight nod. "Sitja," he repeated. "Sitja med zeik her."He held his hand to his chest.
"Sitte... sitja, hier?" I pointed at the bed.
Thrin shook his head and pointed at the cave floor. "Her," he indicated the room, or I guessed the cave in general. "Her. Med zeik."He held his hand to his chest again."Lafa med zeik."
If I understood Thrin correctly, he was telling me to stay here in this cave. With him. Recalling his demonstration earlier with the dagger, he was still protecting me. Perhaps he was just reminding me that without him, I'd have a dagger at my throat. Or, as I'd so easily realized, unwanted appendages inside me. I shuddered at the memory.
And then Thrin grasped my hand again. "Vit?" he asked. He smiled, but to me he looked very worried.
I squeezed his hand gently. He had said that word before. "Vit," I replied.
Thrin nodded in acknowledgment and led me out of Doctor Lady's room. He grabbed the sack that he had placed by the doorway, turned back to the doctor, shouted something, tossed the sack into her room, and laughed. He grinned at me, though I didn't know why, and he walked me to somewhere else in the cave.
"What was in the sack?" I asked.
My captor-protector looked at me, expressionless. I made a motion indicating a big round thing.
Thrin laughed. "Klovt se gifik."