The room was dim, lit only from the generous fire that crackled in the grate. yet Lindovor could see only darkness. His eyes and head had been firmly bound with a damp, cool poultice, blinding him from all sight. As he woke fully and became more aware, he raised a tentative hand, feeling the warmth of the fire coming from the corner of the room and hearing the sharp pop of green twigs bursting in the flame.
His head hurt less, and the mad spinning of the world had stopped but a dull ache still lingered at the back of his head. He called out, uncertainly,
"Carver...is it Carver? Are you there?" His searching hand reached for empty air. He heard footsteps approaching quickly.
"Aye, Aye....'tis Wil Carver here. Lie quiet. Ye gave yerself a bad turn, there."
Lindovor raised his hand to his tightly bandaged head. He felt a calloused hand grab him by the wrist and gently move his hand back down to his side.
"Nay, leave it," said the carpenter's soft voice. "It took a long while t' find the herbs and such as was asked for...'twill help if ye but give it a chance."
Lindovor sighed and let his hand rest on the straw bedding. After a moment, he asked,
"You said you knew a man called Lindovor..."
"Aye, I did."
"Tell me of him..."
"Old Lindovor? Not much t' tell of what he did. Always a gentle word for folk what needed it and not above taking steel to them as needed it, as well...though I never beheld that part o' things. He played the lute, same as you...an' told stories and histories, in the bargain."
Lindovor considered the words he heard in silence, then said,
"You told me he tended beasts for an old woman...."
"Aye, that's true enough. More'n a year back an' before he left, Lindovor and...others...made a trip out of Arrowhaven. 'Twas said there was terrible thing happening to some innocent folk up north, and they were minded to help as they could." Wilbe paused in his tale, as though sifting through his words to choose just the right ones. He continued,
"I guess they made a job of it...but when they came back, Lindovor said not a word. Couldn't, they said. From that time on he stayed with the Lady and kept her books an' beasts and such..."
"Couldn't speak?"
"Not a word...though it didn't stop him from givin' a smile an' nod to those he knew. Some says bravery is standin' up t' monsters with a bit o' steel, but I reckon that holdin' onto hope when it seems all hope has fled takes a different sort o' steel..."
Lindovor made a scoffing sound, "I've known men who would simply call that foolish..."
Carver's voice took on a defensive edge, though it kept its low lilt, "Aye, they would...and be proven fools in their turn. Why is it ye wish to find t'old man, anyways?"
Lindovor took a deep breath. "A promise...a promise made to one I loved. My mother."
"Oh aye? An' ye've traveled all the way from southern lands t'keep that, then?"
Lindovor took a breath, and for a moment a grin appeared beneath the bandaged eyes. "Oh aye," he said.
"Heh...mock an' ye will, 'tis naught t'me."
Lindovor became serious once again, "I'm sorry. You've offered nothing but kindness, and for that I am truly grateful. But...I remember you saying he had left this place...this village. What of the old woman you spoke of? Is she still here? She might know where Lindovor has gone..."
"She would, an' all, I daresay. Whether she might say aught, is another thing."
"Please. Would you ask her for me?" For a moment, Lindovor could see his mother's face in his mind's eye, and his breath caught in a jagged sigh.
"Nay, ask her yerself. 'Twas she that dressed yer wounded noggin."
And for a brief moment, time stood still...
