Elendirill was pulled out of a dreamless sleep. The first in a very long time. He opened his eyes and reality grabbed him by the throat. Before he realized what he saw, a vision of Feraila came to mind. She had a place in his heart from the moment they met, but during the last month she had dominated his thoughts ... Not by her doing though, she wasn't the kind of elf who would draw attention to herself. But her being pulled away from him caused all of this.
He opened his eyes, still blury from sleep and sadness, and looked into the face of an elven woman.
Feraila? Elendirill asked with a broken voice. But then he saw the girl from the camp standing behind her ... and it was only then when he realized who he was staring right into the face.
He crawled back, wanting to get away. Fear and humiliation were mixing there own new kind of anger. When he noticed them looking at him, and others too from the corner of his eye, he calmed down. They expected him to get mad like he did before, but he wasn't going to let this chance slip away. If she wanted them dead, she had her chance when everybody was asleep ... He took a deep breath, and spoke to the dragon in his elven tongue, so the rest wouldn't understand:
I am looking for my wife ... and if you, in any way, can help me braking her free ... I ... would be in your debt. But he added swiftly: But you cannot expect from me to trust you entirely ... you know what you have done to the elven community ... and such a loss can never be forgotten nor be compensated, not for the elves ...
