And we're back in Murky Waters. Inspired by the game The Witcher 1
The Aén Seidhe had always been a proud folk.
"Greetings, Toruviel." Geralt placed his right hand flat on his chest and presaged a slight bow and incline of his head.
"Gwynbleidd!" Toruviel copied the gesture elegantly. "Greetings."
She was even more slender and pale than when he last visited.
The refugee camp of the elves by the shore of the lake, close to Murky Waters, seemed dreary.
Geralt smelled hunger and despair.
He knew that the elves would never ask him for help.
"Do you have work for a witcher?"
Toruviel hesitated. Her eyes flickered uncertainly.
"As a pay, " Geralt moved on hurriedly, "I wish the elfin knowledge about the herbs growing in this area."
The pretty elven warrior breathed a sigh of relief and a smile scurried over her face.
"Take this purse with Oren, go to the monger. Buy four loaves. If he has eggs, take six."
The way was predictably not very hard. A pack of wolves and two wyvern granted witcher-suited diversion.
Toruviel lifted an eyebrow in astonishment when Geralt handed her the bag with his purchases.
"Six loaves?"
"Well," Geralt shrugged. "The monger had eggs."