Locke
Going about his normal daily tasks, Adras couldn’t control his imagination once again. He found himself talking with Coal about the mysterious elf sleeping in his home.
"You offer little help Coal." He laughed as he patted the mule’s neck while pushing a small bale of hay into the animal’s pen. "You were the one to discover him, have you nothing to say of his tale?"
Adras was answered by a loud bray, which echoed around his modest lands causing several chickens to flee in noisy fear. "You cause much commotion my friend, much like our injured guest." The old man mused as he reached for a pail of grain and tossed a handful at the fleeing chickens.
He returned the pail to the wooden bench from which he had retrieved it and then turned and slowly made his way back across the yard toward the cabin. It was a quiet day and Adras relished the moment. It was a rare moment that his son was passed out in his room and the old man could enjoy the beauty of the day without interruption or harassment. Birds soared through the air, singing as they went. Forest critters scurried about, daringly venturing closer to the cabin for bits of neglected grain before hurrying back to the safety of the trees. He watched them momentarily, a smile hidden beneath his facial hair.
Stiffly climbing the stairs toward the cabin entrance, he caught a glimpse of the injured elf lying on the bed. He had left the door open in the event that his charge might wake. Thus far, however, he had not been needed. The elf lay just as he had been left, no motion except for the slight rise and fall of his chest. It had been several hours since he had woken originally and Adras hadn’t really expected to see the blue eyes again that day.
Taking his usual seat next to the bed, the old man began to pull on the blue bandages that were bound tightly around the blond head. Edges of a fading bruise peered out from the elf’s forehead and Adras pulled the bandage up a little higher for a better look. The large bump, which had marred the skin had shrunk considerably, as had the cut which decorated the center of the injury.
Adras recovered the lump then slid his hands over to the left side of the elf’s head. Pulling back the covering he revealed the large wound which was hidden behind the elf’s ear. He slowly stood from his seat and leaned over for a better look. This wound had healed somewhat as well and Adras was quite pleased with the level of healing that his charge had shown. He covered the wound once again in the makeshift bandage and lowered himself back to his seat. There was one more wound to check and then he could make himself some lunch.
He was stopped short, however, by the appearance of open, blue eyes staring back at him. He greeted the injured elf with a smile and reached a wrinkled hand out and placed it on the chest of his new friend. "Welcome back. How do you feel?"
A small, pained smile was returned by the elf and Adras had to hide his own sadness at the situation.
"Head aches." Came a whispered reply.
The old man elicited a relieved sigh at hearing the elf’s voice and responded in kind. "I should think so, my friend. You have not been kind to it." He paused, measuring the elf’s response to this statement. A look of confusion etched itself upon the fair face and Adras began to believe that it was a look that would be almost permanently set upon the elf. He smiled once again before continuing. "I was just about to check the wound to your back, do you feel well enough to allow me?"
"Aye, although I do not know how much help I will be. Still, I would like to attempt to sit up." A pleading look replaced the earlier one of confusion and Adras found it very difficult to argue with such a look.
Your parents must have had a difficult time saying no...
"You need not worry, I will do most of the work." With these words, Adras rose from his seat once more and slowly slid his arm beneath the elf’s shoulders. Ever so gently he began to lift the elf’s upper body from the bed, his other arm pressed against the fair beings chest. A small groan slipped from the pale lips of the blonde elf as he rose and Adras had to force himself to continue, the fear of further harming his charge radiating within him.
Adras pushed the elf over slightly, leaning the weight on his forearm as he quickly lifted the tunic and inspected the arrow wound. It had began healing quite well as well. There was no sign of infection or irritation and the old man hurriedly recovered the injury and slid the elf back so that he was leaning against the headboard of the bed.
"You are healing very nicely. Is that natural for elves?"
The elf sat still, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to regain control of his breathing that the discomfort of the movement had caused. Adras watched closely, looking for any signs of further injury that may have been caused. Slowly, blue eyes began to appear once more and Adras quickly replaced his concerned look with a reassuring one. He feared that the elf was in for a long recovery, but he didn’t want his fears to be shown to his charge.
With still no answer to his earlier question, Adras pressed on. "Do you feel well enough for some tea?"
"Aye." Came the hushed reply.
He turned to the fireplace and pulled the pot from the embers. As he made the cup of tea he continued his questioning. "Do you remember anything of how you came to be here?"
There was no answer for a moment and Adras thought that the elf had returned to his slumbering state once again. Returning with the cup of hot tea pressed into his aging hands, he found the elf probing his wounded head with delicate fingers.
"Nay." It was almost a whimper and Adras felt his chest clench in response.
Adras gave a brief account of how he had discovered the elf in the woods and had brought him to his home for care. "Do you recall how you came to be injured in the forest?"
Another long pause. "Nay."
A large, saddened sigh escaped the old man’s lips and the two sat in silence for a moment as Adras helped the elf drink some of the tea. Color returned somewhat to the pale face as the warm liquid filled the injured beings mouth.
"Do you remember anything?" Adras held his breath at his question. He feared he already knew the answer and he didn’t like what it would be. Not surprisingly, the elf did not answer, he just hung his head and sluggishly twisted his fingers in the blanket that covered his legs.
"Do you at least know what I can call you?" The questioning was turning into a torturous cycle. Adras knew the answers before they were asked and he hated to cause his charge more pain. He suspected with the amount of damage done to the elf’s head that there would be some residual effects, he just wasn’t sure exactly what to expect.
Slowly the elf raised his head and, with distressed, tear filled eyes looked to the old man. Not since the loss of his wife had Adras felt so lost, he could not imagine what the elf was experiencing and he wanted nothing more than to comfort his injured charge. But was that excepted? Would the elf shy away from any type of support or comfort? He had remembered hearing that elf’s weren’t affectionate in the same ways that humans were, he didn’t want to frighten or confuse him more than he was.
Reaching out his wrinkled hand, he gently placed it over the elf’s pale, thin one. He held the elf’s saddened, frightened gaze, fighting back his own tears as he did so.
"Well, never mind that. We will figure things out as we go and I suspect you will begin to remember as you heal." A smile peaked out from beneath his gray beard and Adras tried to exude the cheerfulness he didn’t feel. He wanted to keep the elf’s mind off of his distress, thinking that it might plunge him into further illness.
"Well, I can not continue to call you elf now can I?" Adras questioned as he helped the elf lift the teacup to his mouth once more. "I think I shall call you Locke."
Pushing the cup from his mouth, the elf turned to Adras, an inquisitive look on his pale face.
"There is a mystery hidden inside of you my friend and together we will search for the key to unlock it." Adras pushed the cup back to the elf’s mouth, forcing more fluid into him.
No words were exchanged as the tea was finished and Adras eyed the elf. His fatherly side was bursting from him, he hadn’t felt this much responsibility for someone in years and it felt good to the old man. He hadn’t wanted to claim Dorias as his own since the death of his wife and the major change in his son’s personality. He felt sympathy for Dorias, but he also felt shame, they had not raised their son to be so inhumane and malicious.
As though he had known his father was thinking about him, Dorias threw the bedroom door open and stood, staring at the now awake elf. Adras quickly rose from the elf’s side, placing himself once again between his son and his charge. "Are you heading into town?"
Dorias ignored his father and stepped around him to stand over the elf, a snarl appearing on his scruffy face. "It is about time you woke." The elf tilted his head slightly to look upon the large man.
Adras stood close by watching his son, trying not to breath in the smell of body odor and alcohol that permeated the air around Dorias. He saw the elf scrunch his nose as the smell assaulted him.
"Now that you are better I think it is time that you leave elf." Spit sprayed from Dorias’ mouth as he slurred the words, obviously still intoxicated, and Adras stepped in to prevent further assault falling upon the elf.
"Dorias, go into town. Have something to drink." Adras straightened out his aged form, meeting his sons eyes with his own. "I am still your father and you will do as I say. Now get out." His voice remained calm and even and he could see the anger in Dorias rise.
Dorias’ eyes traveled back and forth between his father and the elf . Adras’ eyes never left his son and he took another step toward the dirty man almost daring him to defy his father. Deep down, however, the old man was terrified. He knew that Dorias had no respect for him and would not hesitate to go through him to get to the elf. Hope was what sparked his courage, hope that some of his wife still existed in his son and that would keep him from harming his father.
Dorias let out a huff of frustration and turned toward the cabin door. He didn’t say another word as he exited the home, slamming the door behind him, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor as he went. Adras watched him leave until the door banged shut, then turned back to the elf, a smile forced upon his face.
"You have just had the pleasure of formally meeting my son Dorias. I am sorry if he frightened you." Adras didn’t actually think that his son had frightened the elf. A stony expression had remained on the pale face as he had held Dorias’ gaze, and admiration as well as a severe sense of protection had grown within Adras even greater for the elf.
"Well, Locke, how would you feel about a little something to eat?" Adras forced a laugh as he turned to a cupboard and began removing items.
"Locke?" A sorrow filled voice responded. "I suppose it will have to do. But, what shall I call you?"
"I am called Adras and you are welcome in MY home for as long as you wish." Adras knew he had told Locke his name once before, but he wasn’t sure how this memory loss effected the elf. He would have to do some testing and some probing until he figured things out. Until they both figured things out. But one thing was for certain. Locke would be welcome to stay until he was well and could find his way home, it was just a matter of whether or not he could keep his own son under control. He stopped the thought. Did the elf have parents he wondered.