Page 53 of The Orc Warrioress and the Elf Lord

“Are you all right, warrioress? Or am I ruining the eggs?” he said.

She shook her head at him. “It’s nothing.”

He gave her a little smile. “Have I mentioned recently how glad I am that you are letting me come along?”

She moaned again. “I should not let you come along. I should be much better off if you were not around, being… whatever way you are with me.”

He blinked at her. “Are you changing your mind?”

She let out yet another moan.

“Don’t change your mind, Gathren.” He was very sincere. “Please, I beg you, don’t. I tell you, I cannot go home.”

“What’s so awful about home?” she said.

“I told you I don’t want to talk about that,” he said.

“Do you have some sort of terrible father?”

“I suppose, but doesn’t everyone?” he said.

“No, everyone does not,” she said.

“Well, you do, don’t you?” he said. “Your father, you said, barely knows you exist.”

She had to admit this was true enough. “But there are lots of good fathers out there.”

“Yes, well, I don’t know anyone with a good father,” he said.

“That can’t be true,” she countered. “What is it that makes your father so awful, anyway?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

“What if I said that if you wanted to come along with me, you had to tell me,” she said.

His eyes widened. “When did you become so positively horrid, warrioress?”

She gave him a sour look.

“I have made you eggs, have I not? Can that not be worth something?”

“Oh, perhaps, yes,” she said, giving up on everything.

After breakfast, they went together to scour the larder, which was still standing, for whatever food had been left behind that had not gone bad. They were able to pack up enough supplies to last them for a trek off into the mountains, which would probably take at least two days, even on horseback. Then, assuming they got her mother back, they’d need two days back.

She had hoped to be able to find more of her own clothing, but it had all burned up. Similarly, there wasn’t much in the way blankets or anything of that nature to pack. They were able to take some horse blankets from the barn. She washed them out in the nearby stream, squeezed them out and hung them to dry.

After they had packed up the food, they checked the blankets and they were still damp, but they managed to rig up a pole to fasten to the horses’ saddles to fasten them to. They should dry as they rode, fluttering in the breeze like flags.

They ate more eggs for lunch, and then they left together.

They rode for hours, mostly silent, and Gathren kept her eyes on the mountain range, willing herself to believe that it was growing closer as they rode for it, even though she doubted that such a thing could be noticed so quickly.

They had a brief discussion about when they might stop for dinner and both decided it would be best to wait until they were going to stop for the night, especially if they wanted to make a fire and a camp and all that business.

So, they rode on as the sun sank and as the shadows grew taller, deeper, and longer. The Cirdan elves often swore by the shadows. They had an affinity with the trees, with the forests. This was why they were called silvan elves.

As the last of the light began to fade, they came across several silvan elves on horseback, coming the opposite direction on the road. The leader of these elves, an older man with long black hair streaked with silver, waved them down.