This one wore a loose shirt that had been washed so many times the sleeves had shrunk, revealing bony wrists, and pants with carefully patched knees. He had the usual elven cheekbones, but they were smudged with dirt. He was practically scruffy.
He didn’t look scared. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look very surprised—probably he’d known that where there was one goblin, more would be coming—but he did look a little bemused.
His almond-shaped eyes traveled over the goblins, not missing either Wiggles or the teddy-bear.
“Say something!” hissed Nessilka, elbowing Murray in the ribs.
“What? Why me?”
“You speak Elvish! Say something useful!”
“I—but—”
“Do it!”
Murray gulped, faced the elf, and stammered out a long phrase in Elvish, like a child repeating a speech it has learned by heart.
The elf’s eyebrows climbed until they nearly touched his hairline. He said something brief, and jerked a thumb to the left.
Murray nodded weakly.
“What did you say?” Nessilka demanded.
“I asked him where the bathroom was.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s the only sentence I know! I think he said it was around back!”
“I thought you spoke Elvish!”
“Not very well!”
Nessilka ground the heel of her hand into her forehead.
When she looked up, the elf was watching her. She was expecting to find an expression of contempt or hatred or something, but he met her eyes with unexpected camaraderie, like the only other babysitter in a room full of children. How odd that our lives should bring us to this point, that look said.
Despite herself, Nessilka warmed to that look.
Okay. Can’t speak Elvish. I know a fair bit of Human, but there’s no telling if the humans here speak the same as the ones where we’re from….
The elf cleared his throat. “Can you understand me?” he asked, in fair, if oddly accented Glibber.
The Nineteenth stared at him. Nessilka exhaled. “Oh, thank the great grim gods,” she said. “You speak a civilized language.”
He smiled a little at that. “It has been many years. But if you speak slowly, I think I can keep up. Now, you are probably here to see your friend, yes?”
They all nodded.
“Please follow me.”
FOURTEEN
The inside of the house was one large room with high rafters, containing a kitchen, a fireplace, and a bed. The kitchen contained a very long wooden table, the fireplace contained a broad hearth with a raccoon sleeping on it, and the bed contained Thumper.
“Thumper!” The Nineteenth crowded around the bed. Thumper cracked one eye, groaned, and closed it again.
“Report, Private!” snapped Nessilka.
“…no.”
“No?”
“…no, Sarge,” muttered Thumper.
She grinned hugely with relief. “I knew no rock could make that big a dent in your skull. Rest, you big idiot.”
“…where’m I…?”
“You’re—ah—safe.” She looked up at the elf, who nodded. “Get some rest.”
“…can’t march….”
“We’re not gonna leave you, Thumper. No goblin left behind and all that. Relax.”
It was not like Thumper to smile, but his scowl had a relieved quality as he sank back into sleep.
The elf’s name was Sings-to-Trees and he liked animals.
This was something of an understatement.
Many people like animals in the abstract. Sings-to-Trees liked them the way saints like lepers. He lived with them, he treated them, he patched them up and fed them and sent them on their way. In return, they kicked him and bled on him and oozed on him and had offspring in the middle of his bed, which was admittedly something that saints have rarely had to worry about from lepers.
“Your friend’ll be fine,” he told Nessilka. “It’s nice having a patient who can actually answer questions. And before you worry—” he held up a hand, “—I know there’s a war on, but it’s about fifty miles thattaway. Your friend is hurt and this isn’t the front, so I’m not planning on turning you in. But you sure are a long way from home.”
Nessilka nodded glumly. “Tell me about it. We didn’t plan to be here. There was a wizard, and you know how it goes…”
He nodded. “I doubt anybody’s going to find you. Other elves don’t come by here much. A little too much nature for them, I think.”
“I thought all elves…y’know…were into nature…” said Nessilka, with a vague hand gesture that could have indicated either into-nature-ness or raving insanity.