I have not abandoned this work! Life kept getting in my way, but I FINALLY have the next chapter out!
"Well, it's a good sign that she made it through the night. Guess those poultices were effective."
Iorveth looked at the healer. "Those wounds must not have been as deep as they appeared. She was somehow sitting up when I entered."
The healer's face went slack from shock, mouth gaping. Ciaran and Iorveth exchanged a quick glance, never having seen him so discomposed. He stood silently for a moment before turning and hurrying off towards the strangers' tent. Mildly irritated, Iorveth muttered to Ciaran, "Did Líf just walk away as I was speaking to him?"
"It would appear so," replied Ciaran, an eyebrow raised in annoyed confusion. He followed as Iorveth stalked off after the healer and into the tent.
"Please don't take offence, but who exactly are you?" The sorceress did not seem appreciative of Líf's attempted examination. The strangers looked over as the two men entered the tent, noticeably stiffening at Iorveth's sudden reappearance. "My, aren't we popular," she drawled, fixing her gaze on Ciaran, "And may I also ask, who the fuck are you?" Before Ciaran could even blink at being addressed in such a manner, she suddenly snapped at Líf, "Would you stop that!" The beast also growled at Líf, after his prodding at its mistress' side had become particularly painful.
Líf jolted. "Oh, right. Sorry. I'm Líf, the healer. I was quite surprised to hear about how quickly you seem to be recovering. Especially since we did not expect you to survive the night."
Nym stared at Líf for a solid thirty seconds before simply saying, "Very well. You may continue." As Líf resumed his examination, she focused on Iorveth and his friend again. "Now, I believe I asked you a question." The newcomer sputtered indignantly, apparently rather unused to such insolence. Zevran and Oghren, on the other hand, almost seemed to relax at Nym's behaviour.
"Did you exhaust all your manners in our previous conversation? Or is there a specific reason you spoke to my second-in-command with such disdain?" There was almost a smirk on Iorveth's face as he spoke. Almost.
Nym looked from the second-in-command, who was now nearly incandescent with suppressed rage, to the Scoia'tael commander. "No, no specific reason. I'm afraid I've simply run out of patience, after sailing for months and then having to leave Oxenfurt almost immediately upon arrival. And having to trek through yet another forest outside of a shithole of a fishing town, which is incomprehensibly well-guarded. And then having the shortest of respites ruined by having my side torn open by a rather disgusting...creature. Also completely destroying the chance of exploring the cave behind the waterfall, not to mention my good robes! I have others, but these were ideal for trekking through the aforementioned yet another fucking forest. All the while being followed by you for some unknown reason. And then just a few moments ago, I awoke to find myself in a strange tent, still severely injured, with strange elves just coming and going as they please. And to top it all off, one of these elves just walks in and starts probing at my wounds. Without. A. Word. So yes, all my manners were exhausted. As are all of my reserve manners. Truly impressive, actually - only nobles have ever managed that."
After waiting to see if Nym was done, Líf asked, "So, what was in those poultices? Because your healing is simply remarkable. Was magic involved? I know you're a sorceress, but you couldn't heal yourself while unconscious. Did you enchant the poultices ahead of time? If so-"
"Líf. Out." The healer hurriedly complied with Iorveth's order.
"Heh heh. Leaf." The five other occupants all turned to stare at Oghren. "What? He's an elf. Named Leaf. Gettit?" He chortled, finding his own joke very funny. Somehow.
"Oghren. Out." Nym slowly massaged her temples, trying and failing to remember why she kept the dwarf around.
"What? Nuh-uh. No way. All this greenery makes me sick. Plus, I'm not leaving you alone with these namby pamby elves!" At that remark, the second-in-command had apparently had enough. He grabbed Oghren by the collar and belt and threw him out the tent flap. Much cursing and yelling could be heard, including the phrase "Keep your pants on!" Several times.
Zevran asked Nym, "He seems to forget we're elves, no?"
"Well, me at least. I'm rather confident you're included in the so-called 'namby pamby' group."
"As entertaining as that was, Ciaran, who is guarding him now?" Iorveth asked Ciaran rather tersely. Ciaran blinked, realizing he hadn't thought that far ahead.
Zevran nodded in agreement. "That is a fair concern. He's very good at finding trouble."
Nym swore softly. "Barkspawn. Go watch Oghren. Sit on him if you have to, just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." The mabari huffed but moved to leave the tent. However, he stopped by Iorveth and once again headbutted his leg. Iorveth and Ciaran stared down at the dog in confusion.
"Barkspawn, work first, pets later," Nym ordered firmly, leaving no room for argument from the mabari. He whined but finally left to find Oghren. Mere moments later, renewed but muffled cursing emanated from the dwarf. Faint bemused laughter was heard as well; apparently, a mabari sitting on a dwarf amused some of the other Scoia'tael.
Ciaran, despite still being clearly annoyed, was slightly smirking at the hound's demand for affection from Iorveth. Iorveth, however, cocked his eyebrow at Nym and incredulously asked, "Did you really name that beast after the so-called evil that you are sworn to defend your land against?"
She sighed deeply. "I didn't. My friend did. It's a long story. Short version: he's far too easily amused." Zevran chuckled at the description of Alistair.
An awkward silence descended as Iorveth and Ciaran simultaneously realized they did not have a plan, and that they had lost whatever control of the situation they may have had to begin with. Meanwhile, Zevran was on tenterhooks, half expecting to follow Oghren's path at any moment. Nym, on the other hand, was less pessimistic and sat waiting for the Scoia'tael to say whatever it was they surely came in to say.
"You're Ciaran, I take it?" Nym asked, gesturing at the second-in-command. "Excellent throw, by the way."
There was another pause as Ciaran squinted suspiciously at the remark, not sure if it was truly a compliment or a stealthy insult. Zevran cleared his throat, "Thank you for the night of respite. Might I ask we be allowed to gather our things before departing? I must say, I would also prefer to walk rather than fly."
"You're not leaving," Ciaran sounded confused by Zevran's assumption. Zevran opened his mouth to undoubtedly make another flippant comment, but quickly shut it after seeing Nym's warning glare.
Iorveth raised his eyebrow rather condescendingly. "I let you wander our forest. I saved your life. I granted you access to our camp and healer. I wouldn't have bothered with any of that if I had no reason for you to be here. So no, you're not leaving. Not yet, anyway."
The sorceress glanced at her companion and spoke quickly again in their unfamiliar language. His response seemed to annoy her, which did little to ease Iorveth's own irritation at seemingly being ignored. She turned back to Iorveth. "It seems my companions were remiss in informing me of certain, well, any details regarding what happened yesterday. Up until just a moment ago, I was unaware that you had saved my life. You have my thanks."
Iorveth paused at the genuine gratitude. "...You're welcome." His eye flicked down to her side before gesturing to Ciaran, who immediately departed, and saying, "We'll continue this conversation after Líf has seen to you." The sorceress nodded in understanding after gingerly touching her bandages, which were slowly growing redder. Iorveth turned to the tent flap a moment later as Ciaran returned with Líf in tow.
Líf told the sorceress to lie down, which Iorveth and Ciaran took as their cue to leave. As they left, the sorceress said, "Would you be so kind as to send my dwarf back in? In whatever manner you deem fit, just please aim for the other side of the tent. I need to have a...talk, with him." Iorveth and Ciaran smirked.
The hound had indeed sat upon the dwarf. However, seeing Ciaran march out of the tent, it jumped off the dwarf, stood beside Iorveth, and once again headbutted his leg. Iorveth stared down at the beast, who gazed back up at him expectantly.
"What." Iorveth said in a clipped tone.
In the background of the staring match, Ciaran threw the dwarf back into the tent. Aiming away from the sorceress, of course. The hound continued staring up at Iorveth for a few moments longer, before seeming to huff and walk into the tent as well, almost indignantly.
With the dwarf taken care of, Ciaran turned to Iorveth. "What are your plans for our…guests?"
Iorveth ignored Ciaran for a moment, ordering a Scoia'tael to tell Líf to come find him when the healer was done with the prisoners. Turning back to his second-in-command, Iorveth beckoned Ciaran to walk with him. "I doubt I need to explain how useful her magic could be."
"No, but how to make her an ally? And do you intend to reveal everything to them?" Ciaran asked quietly, so as to not be overheard.
Iorveth rolled his eye. "No. I intend to tell them enough so they understand our cause. I doubt she's expecting us to be completely forthcoming," he replied in an equally low tone.
"I understand that, but how does that make them our allies?"
"If nothing else, that should be enough to make them sympathetic to our cause, so we shouldn't need to worry about her magic being used against us. As for an actual alliance, that will depend on certain forces." Iorveth gave Ciaran a significant look as the two of them returned to going over their plans.