After this heavy topic, they spoke no more of Griogair. Not because Daegan suddenly understood some of what lay hidden behind his words, but because she sought to quarrel with him all the more over them. It was Corin who interceded and threatened to drag her from the room, and deny her future visits with Cormac if she did not comport herself as a proper lady should.

  Bitter at this reprimand, she did as bidden and soon the topic moved to discussing the beauty of the dresses the Elf-maidens wore and of the beauty of figure of the Elves. From there the discussion moved to that of the meat and stews cooked by the Elves, which she and Corin swore many oaths tasted far better than any restoratives might.

  To the end of their discussion according to Corin the skies began to darken once more, so that he ushered his unwilling daughter out of the door. The tall blacksmith turned then to face the yawning lad one last time, to inform him. “Rest now Cormac, and do so with the knowledge that your mother is safe at home and that on the morrow, you shall at last meet those Elves you have longed so badly to meet since you could walk.”

  The warmth in his voice, soft as it was brought another smile to the lad’s lips so that he nodded his head one last time.

  Wulfnoth who had by then at last received the meat and wine he so heartily desired, ate with such robustness and heartiness that he sounded almost akin to a pig then. His sounds of joy such that he brought a small noise of irritation from the youth, who could not help but wonder how any man, could eat more loudly than a whole crowd of people.

  For he felt certain then that, the feasting villagers of Glasvhail had never eaten so obnoxiously. The greatest question at that moment was how the man could eat and drink so vigorously without splashing a single piece of sauce or wine upon his garments. For one could have sworn that they were almost cleaner after the hearty meal, than before it!

  The knowledge that he had not visited his friends, had not properly been out of bed that day, so that he felt a little betrayed by his friends.

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  Though they had answered all his questions regarding his friends, they had truly done little more than placate him when all he wished to assure himself of the good health of those aforementioned friends and to see the Elves with his own eyes. What he also craved was not a restorative-meal (which according to Corin, was said to intentionally taste poorly), but a true meal.

  The question of why it was meant to taste so poorly was answered for him, when he came near to stepping out of bed, turning on his side to do so. Alarmed to see him moving already, Wulfnoth urged him to stay where he was, to not move. “Stop lad! You shan’t move yet, you have only just returned to yourself, I do think you ought to listen to your lady and her father lest you injure yourself.”

  Attempting to move himself, only drew a series of groans of pain from the druid, who was it appeared to have retained his old injuries from the battle with the wraiths. His weakness such that he could hardly climb out of bed himself, so sorely had he been gouged along his legs and chest. Wulfnoth did not escape his bed as Cormac did though, he did alert some of those who had remained standing just outside of their room though.

  By the time they arrived though, Cormac shamefully to his own mind, lost more than a little of his lunch and supper. Expelled from deep within himself, with no small amount of pain and a number of slight whimpers of pain he had the rather unpleasant sensation of feeling his innards being scraped out and twisted before being kicked and torn.

  This was but a prelude, to the expulsion of his meals that along with some sort of black liquid decorated the floor. The moment he saw the nausea, much as the pain continued to haunt him, Cormac had the sense that he had been in some way purged of some darkness.

  Urged back upon his bed, by the trio of green-haired Elves who had the same long-curved ears of the fair lady from the Mound, dressed in bright emerald leather and deer-skin boots, their glowing green eyes piercing him with disapproval, Cormac could do little more than gape at them. He vomited another four times before he was at last pushed back upon the bed, whereon he fell asleep shortly thereafter.

  This time as he sunk into blackness, he did so without any hint of pain in his body. Instead there was a sense of longing at the sight of those bright emerald eyes, as one of the Elves waved a long-fingered hand over his face with murmured words beneath his breath.