(A/N: I originally planned for this to be the start of a single 'chapter' but to hit all the points I wanted to will likely cover at least one other part, maybe a third. We get to meet a new friend! And Torin gets clean and has a chat and just multiple things happen and I'm already halfway through but all together it's almost 4k words so far. So just take this short starting bit for now. Cheers!)
"Enough."
Torin snapped his gaze back up to the Elven Queen as she stood. He had nearly forgotten she was there, speaking aloud his memories as the world faded around him. Through the corner of his eye he could see that the patch of light that wandered the floor of his cell had shifted considerably. The pale golden pinks of approaching dusk barely kissed the ground.
Queen Islanzadí drew herself up before him, expression unreadable. "Enough. I must meet my war council." A tension that Torin had been unaware of building suddenly released, and he slumped slightly. So she wasn't stopping to kill him. That was a good sign. He stood slowly, joints sore, and stepped back further into his cell before pausing.
Unsure if it was the right thing to do, Torin awkwardly shuffled his feet and bowed low. "Y-yes, ma'am." When he straightened the elf was regarding him with what he thought could be the barest hint of amusement, as well as some mild thoughtfulness.
"One of my people will come to you shortly." The door to Torin's cell clicked shut, guided by silent magic. The display made him shiver again. "I cannot confirm your account until tomorrow at the earliest, and cannot trust you to roam free. However, that does not mean that you will remain here in your own filth. You will bathe and be provided with new clothing before we next meet.
"If you cause any disturbance or attempt to flee, you will be killed without hesitation. Am I clear?"
Torin heard himself speak in affirmation, but his mind was reeling as the Queen departed down the ward's hall.
Confirmation. So some of the men from the High Security Ward had survived the battle. He wondered if they would be truthful when asked about their former comrade, and the consequences for both if they were not.
Suddenly lightheaded, Torin stumbled to his cot and collapsed on to it. His face pressed against the cool cinderblock, providing some anchor to the world. Every nerve tingled with static, fizzling anxiety and long forgotten hope all clamoring for the top spot in his consciousness. The dulled realization that he had forgotten to ask if the elf he had met back then was alive drifted through his mind with a pang of guilt before it too faded.
It took til the sun had set and the moon had risen to peer over the rim of the world for Torin's overstimulated brain to wrestle the revelations and relivings of the day down. He shifted in his cot and sat up, back to the wall, as he laid out the processed information in simplified pieces.
The elves were fully in control of Gil'ead, not the Empire. The Elven Queen, Islanzadí, had visited him at his cell. She was interested in the fire-eyed elf that had been imprisoned here, and in Torin's interactions with her. The Queen would come speak to him again, probably tomorrow, and another elf was going to come and take Torin somewhere to bathe and give him a new prison uniform.
The last pieces to the day's puzzle lingered in the young man's mind as he tucked the rest of the information away.
Torin was not exactly a prisoner anymore, but was not free either. Not only that, but the question that had stayed with him since his arrest may yet be answered.
What happened to the elf after her escape from Gil'ead?
A knock against the cell door roused Torin from his thoughts. He stood, a bit more than surprised that anyone would be so kind as to knock, and warily approached the barred window. "Y-yes?" His throat was dry from his earlier marathon of speech.
An elven woman was outside, peering into the cell with the same curiosity Torin once held as he looked in on the imprisoned elf all that time ago. "Stars watch over you, Torin Aldsson. I am Naela, of House Varan." Her voice was the pitch and tone of a shallow river gliding over rounded stones, a smooth, rich alto with hints of lilting tones and rolling ripples.
"It is nice to meet you, Naela."
The young man could not help but feel a small sense of relief as his gaze caught on the woman's hazel eyes. It was clear, through them, that Naela carried the same power as the other elves Torin had encountered. But there was something different about the way she held it, almost cupped in her hands. There was a softness, almost gentle touch at the edges.
Her eyes were…warm. Like laying in the beams of light that graced the ground on a chill day. Whereas the imprisoned elf's eyes blazed with an undying fire of ferocity and determination, and Queen Islanzadí's were the sharp, crisp chill of a winters day, Naela's eyes were the warm sun of approaching autumn, the last vestiges of warmth and comfort at the edge of the cold seasons ahead.
Torin wondered. If the elf from before were safe, with friends, away from this awful place and free from pain…would her eyes look the same?
With a murmured word and a gentle tug, Naela unlocked and opened the door. "The Queen has assigned me to be your guard." She stepped aside, offering a clear path into the hall. "If you would follow me, please."
Torin went to fall in, but stopped at the threshold of his cell. It felt as though iron shackles had snapped around his ankles, pulling tight as he tried to step over the invisible line separating him from the world outside the four little walls. A wave of panic washed through him, ice cold to the point that it made his lungs seize.
What if there were spells set on his cell? What if he couldn't leave? The world seemed to tremble at the edges, and for an instant he felt his foot moving back, away from the door back to the relative safety of his cell–
Gentle hands on his forearms snapped the world back to an anchored clarity. Naela was in front of him, concern tipping her sharp brows inwards. "You are safe, Aldsson."
Torin could not stop his shaking. He wanted to believe her, he really did. But how could she know? He had only left his cell with another guard before. What if there were things set in the stones to kill him if he left? Or what if the burns on the imprisoned elf's feet were a result of an escape attempt? What if–
Naela was speaking, then. But the words were…different. They were not in common tongue, yet deep in the marrow of his bones, the very cells of his nerves, Torin somehow…understood. He did not know what she had said but in that moment he understood her meaning, that there was absolute truth in her words.
"Listen to my voice, Alddson. You are safe. Nothing will harm you here."
The trembling eased to a manageable level.
"Would you like me to help you?" Torin nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Following the pressure that the elf exerted on his arms, unable to resist her guiding strength, the young man took his first steps out of his cell in months.
The hall was the same as it always was. But in that moment, as Torin breathed deeply and tried to get his hammering heart under control, the air felt crisp and clear. The lights felt bright, almost too much so. Beneath his bare feet, the cool concrete felt polished and mirror smooth.
It felt…good. And at the same time, everything almost overwhelmed him.
"Are you back with us, Aldsson?" The young man focused back in on the elf that still held his arms. Her concern was evident through the tilt of her head and tightening around her eyes.
A pang of guilt and shame washed through him. This woman had come to let him out of a dank and filthy prison cell, and instead of thanking her and doing the only sane thing and walking out, he had to have her physically drag him through the door like a nervous cat from under a bed.
"Yes." Torin instinctively flexed his fingers, that telltale itch and tingle forming in his muscles that was only pacified through worrying at his knuckles. "I'm s-sorry. I don't– I didn't–"
"Do not be sorry for this." Naela's voice was firm, and the combination of that and the soothing pressure as she squeezed his forearms drew Torin's eyes back to hers. "You are feeling things that are natural for some after such isolation." She suddenly smiled at him, bright and reassuring. "If it will make this easier for you, I can keep contact with you as we walk. Would you prefer to remain indoors? There is a path that does not lead outside if you are not yet ready."
A soft blanket of solace settled over Torin's shoulders. He gave Naela a shaky smile, and nodded. "Thank you. I'd like that."
With a reassuring pat to his arm, the elf shifted to a position slightly behind his right and settled a hand on his shoulder. Together, the elf and the freed man moved to the stairs.
Despite Naela's gentle presence, Torin felt a twinge of unease in his stomach as they passed the door that led to the High Risk Ward's open-floor showers. Another turn saw the two pass the ward common room and finally stop at the small barracks, where Naela held the door for her charge to enter and beckoned him to the door at the back.
Torin followed obediently, eyes darting to take in the state of his former bunk. Second on the right, lower berth. Like all the other beds it had been stripped, the mattress removed and placed elsewhere. The footlockers were pulled from their places beneath the bunks and sat lined up in front of the empty frames, all cleared of their contents.
With a jolt of sudden homesickness he had not felt since childhood, Torin remembered that the last picture of his family was in his locker when he was arrested. I hope they didn't throw it away. Maybe I can ask Naela if there were any prisoner effects left in lockup.
"This is to be your room for the time being." Naela pressed her hand to the door at the end of the barracks, unlocking it with another spell.
Torin blinked. "This is the commander's room though…." He followed his guard inside, taking in the space. He had only been inside twice before, and had spent most of the time staring at a particular cracked cinderblock in the wall as the commander berated him for whatever he had done.
The space was well over half again the size of his cell, but was still quite small. There was only room for a soldiers bed along the far wall, a writing desk beside the door, and a small dresser to the right. At the end of the bed was another door, revealing a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink and shower.
Naela clasped her hands behind her back, hiding a small grin. "The Queen thought this would be the most convenient accommodation until she could investigate your claims." She gestured towards the dresser and then the shadowed washroom when Torin turned at her voice. "There are several sets of clothes of various sizes for you to find your proper fit once you have washed."
For a moment, Torin couldn't speak through the sudden lump in his throat. He turned back to survey the room and hide the watering of his eyes from the elf, warmth blooming in his chest.
This was the kindness those of his own race had abandoned. The simple right to basic living conditions, to proper hygiene, space to move more than two paces and enough light to see and not feel oppressed by constant gloom. To be suddenly provided with it all, even when he could not leave and was still technically a prisoner….
…So the Queen is not as cold as she puts off. At least, not entirely.
Torin wiped his eyes and breathed deeply before facing Naela again. "Thank you." Feeling mere words not sincere enough to convey the wealth of emotions now inside him, Torin bowed.
Naela laughed and took the young man by the shoulders to right him. "You don't need to bow to me, Aldsson!"
The sound of laughter, after so long, made Torin smile. "Are there any restrictions that I should follow while here?"
"Ah. Unfortunately, the washroom door must remain open, but I will turn my back when privacy is needed." Torin nodded. The decreased privacy was not something he was unfamiliar with. He was living, and often showering, with twelve other men before his arrest. And it was not like the cell he was in previously was the most private of places. "If you find yourself needing anything, do not hesitate to ask. I will remain at the door."
Still smiling, Torin nodded. It took a locking of his muscles to prevent it from turning into a bow again. With another word of thanks, he hurried to the first shower available to him in months, elation bubbling in his chest.
Yellow Gerbera: Warmth, sunshine, friendliness.