Endless burn marks littered Elias’ arms, chest, and face, but none looked severe enough for him to have remained unconscious. Johan feared that all the smoke Elias must have breathed in might have harmed him in ways Johan couldn’t see, but he couldn’t take him to the doctor since Elias had just… had just...
Johan could hardly bring himself to think the words, but he needed to. He needed to face up to what had just happened.
Elias had murdered a number of men in his home. It would be unlikely to be safe for any of them to show their faces in Falchovari again.
Regardless of what Elias had done, the only thing that mattered right then was that the small yet larger-than-life elf wake up from whatever sickness had overtaken him.
Johan prayed to any god who would listen that Elias would be well enough to brighten every new doorway with his smile once more. Johan would sooner witness Elias and Henrik argue like they had just earlier that night, every day for the rest of his life, than live a day without Elias in it at all.
“Please be okay, you need to be okay,” he whispered to Elias’ unconscious form. “You need to be okay, because I love you. Henrik loves you.”
Johan felt like a coward but promised himself that if Elias pulled through, he would find the words to tell both of them how much he loved and adored them. How much they’d turned his life from a mere existence to this effervescent, blinding thing that Johan would go to war to protect.
The walk home felt like the longest trek of Johan’s life. He stopped only to catch his breath twice, Elias getting heavier and heavier with every step he took.
Under the thick canopy of the trees, the rain had slowed to a trickle, which gave the forest an eerie quiet. His own laboured breathing, however, seemed so loud he was certain it could be heard for miles around.
By the time he reached the cabin, his arms were screaming in pain; nothing but the surge of energy swimming in his veins had pushed Johan forward in the direction of Henrik. The sun had risen at some point during his return, but he couldn’t even guess the time now.
Johan had barely stepped foot inside the clearing when the front door burst open and Henrik came running towards him.
“What happened? Why are you back already? Eli? Eli?? What’s wrong with him?” Henrik’s voice became more panicked with every question.
Johan couldn’t speak yet. He needed to get Elias inside. Once he’d gently placed Elias down on the larger mattress, he collapsed onto the floor with exhaustion.
“They. Came. For. Us,” Johan panted out. “He. Killed. Them.”
“Eli did?”
Johan nodded.
“Did they hurt him? What’s wrong with him?” Henrik stroked Elias’ hair as he tried to press the spout of a skin of water to his lips.
“I don’t know.”
“How? How do you not know? Weren’t you with him?”
Johan glared at Elias’ on the bed and said, “No.”
It was then that Johan spotted the second mattress on the far side of the room, and it was like a punch to his stomach. He was too tired to even attempt to piece together why Henrik had made a bed for him so far away from theirs.
“Watch him while I get water?” he asked Henrik.
“Of course. But… what do I do? How do we make him better?”
“I don’t know.” Johan hated that he himself didn’t know. Hated how useless he was right then.
Feeling defeated, Johan grabbed the skins and dragged his tired body the thirty-minute walk to the freshwater spring.
He’d never thought himself a coward, but after hours with nothing to focus on except Elias’ too-still body, he couldn’t do it anymore. The image of Elias slumped on the ground would be burned into Johan’s mind for the rest of his life, and he just needed a moment to gather himself before facing reality once more.
The air was crisp, and the rain had stopped. Fortunately, the freshwater spring hadn’t frozen yet and was flowing fast from the earlier downpour, so Johan filled all the skins he could carry.
Too exhausted to immediately manage the walk back, he took a few minutes to wash himself, like if he removed the sweat and ash from the smoke then he could somehow erase the events of the night.
He should be more angry at Elias for burning down his home than he was. But he’d meant what he said, homes could change. He could grieve the loss and move on, but his anger at Elias wasn’t about the fire.
The fire he understood. Given the chance, he probably would also have burned alive the people who had caused his loves so much suffering. Even though the smells from the fire might haunt him for the rest of his life, it was a price he was glad to have paid.
