The worst of the effects of mana exhaustion seemed to have lifted. Ulric was feeling a little less like he'd been run over and more like he'd been merely beaten. The kid, who'd actually been beaten, was stirring. A decent nap he'd gotten, an hour or so next to the fire after a decent meal and something to drink. Probably did him worlds of good.
Slowly the elf woke, wide eyes opening. Impressive eyes they were too, brilliant emerald irises flecked with a deep golden yellow. Too bad both were nearly swollen shut and darkly blacked. Those motherfuckers had savaged this kid. It made Ulric want to kill them all over again.
Trying to shelve the anger, before his expression scared the lad, Ulric spoke to him to try to avoid startling him when he realized he wasn't alone, waking in a strange place.
"Well met, boy, can you understand me? I don't even know what tongue you speak, not even sure what language I speak, come to think. Nod twice if you make sense of me, stare blankly if you've no clue." Ulric's attempt at greeting was met by the latter option, rather than the former. Damn. Plan B?
Ulric pointed to himself "Ulric Einar" enunciating clearly, he then pointed to the elf and spoke deliberately, "Boy". Pointing to the fire he named it thus and then continued, pointing at the various objects in or near the shelter before naming them. An hour later he was sure the kid had no fucking clue what he was saying and might be too concussed to even be coherent. Hell, he was barely aware of what he was saying. Sighing, Ulric subsided to silence for a few minutes.
Fuck he was tired.
"Fuck I am tired." Ulric informed the camp. Daylight had gone. Passive mana regeneration had blunted the more oppressive symptoms of mana exhaustion but the rigors of battle, transporting the spoils, and watching over the youth had tapped Ulric's energy reserves. He needed sleep badly. How to handle the kid? He really didn't want to end up shanked to death while he slept. He also couldn't think of rebinding the child, a measure of trust was necessary here, if he ever wanted to earn any trust of his own.
"I sleep now." Ulric said, pantomiming laying his head on his hands to, hopefully, demonstrate sleeping. If the kid had any sense he'd do the same. A highly suspicious and not so optimistic part of him thought that, if the elf child didn't try to murder him, it was even odds he'd run away over-night and get eaten. But. What happened, happened. Ulric was too tired to be able to cover all eventualities.
Besides, the body of the Beastman was laying over by the wood pile and if seeing one of your abusers treated like * ahem* dead wood, wasn't enough to convince you what else could a man do? So, Ulric went to his bed and lay down under layers of fur, asleep before his body even settled.
Bird calls greeted Ulric. Morning light filtering through the boughs. The air was sharp this morn, doubtless the frost was on again.
Ulric's body was still vaguely stiff from the previous day's exertions but the faint hot/cold pulse of his core alongside his heart told him that he'd recovered from mana exhaustion. He was ready to rise when he noticed the slight weight of the elf child curled up on his legs. Hm. So he'd been smart enough not to run off into the forest at night. Maybe there was hope for the kid after all. Something would have to be done about that nose though, the kid was breathing loudly through his mouth. Not going to be a good time fixing that, broken noses hurt like a bastard to set.
Gently, Ulric removed the child from his legs and rose. The stillness of the mornings were always his favorite time of day. This hour always felt like a fresh start, full of endless possibility. Basking in the moment just a little longer he let the chill air dance across his skin, savoring the taste of the forest in his nose and lungs. He definitely should have been a druid, this forest felt more like home now than any apartment in which he'd ever lived.
"Alright then, let's make some luck." It had been one of his favorite sayings from the old world. Chance favors the prepared mind, a quote from one Louis Pasteur, the man who, single-handedly, proved life beget life and saved billions of lives through the treatment of milk and other easily spoiled potables. He also contributed to the determination that molecules had distinct, mirrorable geometries which were chemically distinguishable. Ulric considered him to be a folk hero and a model for making hard work do most of your dice shaving.
First, the fire. Some light digging with a wood shovel revealed coals that soon glowed to life with vigorous fanning. A handful of wood shavings from the corner of his shelter he knew to be driest, a bundle of twigs, and more fanning produced open flame. In a few minutes the fire fanned tall, gifting the shelter heat and light with its flickering dance.
Next some wood cutting. Large branches yielded to Ulric's axe, driven by strong back and shoulders. In a quarter hour a stack of cut wood to sustain fire for the night. He'd bathe this morning, just in case he decided to hunt or need to go up the canopy, so he set a few cuts of the deer he'd butchered a few days ago, alongside some tubers, forest garlic, onions and greens, to slow roast inside a stone and clay oven he had built into the wall of his shelter.
Shedding the [Forest Lord] hide clothing, he went to his rock pool and, in the side depression he’d filled for this purpose, scraped the previous day’s accumulated filth from his skin. He'd need to rinse the clothing and soak it in the soapy pap he'd found you could generate by grinding the bark of one of the shrubs in the glade. Camp soap was a project on Ulric's radar. He had a goodly store of lard now, all the wood ash a man could want, and was confident he could render it in a double boiler using one of his baskets and a stone bowl. A mark of how accustomed he'd become to the morning chill that Ulric barely shivered in the cold water, although his good friend and partner had sought refuge inside his body at the combination of cold water and colder air.
There would be a freeze soon. The frosts seemed not to touch the canopy, yet, but that couldn't be far off. Vibrant gold foliage up there betrayed the movement of the seasons. Ulric lost himself in thought until he heard soft footfalls behind him and the sound of something dragging. Turning, Ulric found the boy had followed him to the pool, hide blanket still wrapped around his body. Ulric pointed to the spring and said "Water. Clean." before miming drinking from the clear waters.
Hesitating only slightly the elf youth went to the pool's edge and drank deeply. While he did, Ulric shrugged into his clothes, their familiar weight blocking the chill air completely. [Forest Lord] was some fine hide.
Nothing for it then, they had water to clean up the mess and Ulric had to do something about that nose. He strode to the child's side and took a corner of the hide blanket, dipping it into the water, and gently as he could, scrubbed the child's face holding the kid's shoulder to steady him. Dirt, snot, dried blood, and whatever other filth came away and the damage could be seen clearly.
Those assholes had sure enough pounded on the kid. Eyes had been blacked and, although the swelling had come down slightly since yesterday, were still very much swollen. Cuts on the high cheek bones and above the eyebrows indicated he'd probably been hit with either bare fists, boots, or some kind of weapon handle. No fine edges to suggest a bladed weapon had been used on him. So, they'd wanted him alive for something but hadn't been worried about roughing him up.
Best to get the worst over with soonest.
"Boy, you've broken your nose badly. It's got to be set, and you're not going to like it." Ulric told him softly but firmly. He knelt down next to the child and pointed at his nose, and then pointed to the child's own. The boy knew what he meant and he also knew it was going to hurt, shaking his head.
"Can't be helped. You can't breathe right. Longer it goes on, more it's going to hurt and the longer it's going to take to heal." Ulric was pretty sure the elf had no clue what he was saying but he needed to reassure the kid as much as he could.
He'd never been good with young people. They seemed to think older people told them to do things for fun, instead of trying to avoid cleaning up yet another mess made by an incompetent attempt at something. Tell them, "No, not like that, do it like this." show them step by step and everything and they'd still do what they thought the first time they lay eyes on it and fuck it up royal. Still. The kid was his responsibility, for now, and he'd do his best to prevent him coming to undo harm, if it could be avoided.
He reached to the child's nose and the boy squealed and tried to pull away. And that was precisely enough of that nonsense.
Scowling at the child he felt the spirit of his grandmother, her stony aura which brooked exactly zero fuckings with, rolling off him. One hand held the child's shoulder like a vise and the other gently but with iron in it as well took the kid's chin and he stared into the vivid eyes of the child his ancestral tongue coming easily as he repeated the words said to him when he'd skinned knees and had alcohol applied to the wounds.
"Schrei, wenn du musst, aber jammer nicht."
Wide eyed, the youth stilled and nodded his head. Even if he didn't understand the words he knew the situation well enough to stop squirming.
Ulric set the nose in a single twist which was accompanied by the loud wailing of the child. Gently he patted the boy's back while he cried into Ulric's shoulder. He deserved a cry, it had definitely hurt like a bitch. A few minutes passed though and the sobs had died to the odd sniffle. When the Elven youth stepped back Ulric released him. The child looked up at him and nodded his thanks. At Ulric's return nod, and gesture towards camp, the two returned to the fire. There they breakfasted on roasted meat and vegetables. Both ate greedily, and washed the meal down with fresh water.
As they sat, heat of a warm meal in their bellies and the cheerful glow of coals washing over them the boy looked up and spoke for the first time, "You asshole, even not bad man. Thank you."
Ulric was stunned. He had been able to speak the entire time? "You little bastard."
The worst of the effects of mana exhaustion seemed to have lifted. Ulric was feeling a little less like he'd been run over and more like he'd been merely beaten. The kid, who'd actually been beaten, was stirring. A decent nap he'd gotten, an hour or so next to the fire after a decent meal and something to drink. Probably did him worlds of good.
Slowly the elf woke, wide eyes opening. Impressive eyes they were too, brilliant emerald irises flecked with a deep golden yellow. Too bad both were nearly swollen shut and darkly blacked. Those motherfuckers had savaged this kid. It made Ulric want to kill them all over again.
Trying to shelve the anger, before his expression scared the lad, Ulric spoke to him to try to avoid startling him when he realized he wasn't alone, waking in a strange place.
"Well met, boy, can you understand me? I don't even know what tongue you speak, not even sure what language I speak, come to think. Nod twice if you make sense of me, stare blankly if you've no clue." Ulric's attempt at greeting was met by the latter option, rather than the former. Damn. Plan B?
Ulric pointed to himself "Ulric Einar" enunciating clearly, he then pointed to the elf and spoke deliberately, "Boy". Pointing to the fire he named it thus and then continued, pointing at the various objects in or near the shelter before naming them. An hour later he was sure the kid had no fucking clue what he was saying and might be too concussed to even be coherent. Hell, he was barely aware of what he was saying. Sighing, Ulric subsided to silence for a few minutes.
Fuck he was tired.
"Fuck I am tired." Ulric informed the camp. Daylight had gone. Passive mana regeneration had blunted the more oppressive symptoms of mana exhaustion but the rigors of battle, transporting the spoils, and watching over the youth had tapped Ulric's energy reserves. He needed sleep badly. How to handle the kid? He really didn't want to end up shanked to death while he slept. He also couldn't think of rebinding the child, a measure of trust was necessary here, if he ever wanted to earn any trust of his own.
"I sleep now." Ulric said, pantomiming laying his head on his hands to, hopefully, demonstrate sleeping. If the kid had any sense he'd do the same. A highly suspicious and not so optimistic part of him thought that, if the elf child didn't try to murder him, it was even odds he'd run away over-night and get eaten. But. What happened, happened. Ulric was too tired to be able to cover all eventualities.
Besides, the body of the Beastman was laying over by the wood pile and if seeing one of your abusers treated like * ahem* dead wood, wasn't enough to convince you what else could a man do? So, Ulric went to his bed and lay down under layers of fur, asleep before his body even settled.
Bird calls greeted Ulric. Morning light filtering through the boughs. The air was sharp this morn, doubtless the frost was on again.
Ulric's body was still vaguely stiff from the previous day's exertions but the faint hot/cold pulse of his core alongside his heart told him that he'd recovered from mana exhaustion. He was ready to rise when he noticed the slight weight of the elf child curled up on his legs. Hm. So he'd been smart enough not to run off into the forest at night. Maybe there was hope for the kid after all. Something would have to be done about that nose though, the kid was breathing loudly through his mouth. Not going to be a good time fixing that, broken noses hurt like a bastard to set.
Gently, Ulric removed the child from his legs and rose. The stillness of the mornings were always his favorite time of day. This hour always felt like a fresh start, full of endless possibility. Basking in the moment just a little longer he let the chill air dance across his skin, savoring the taste of the forest in his nose and lungs. He definitely should have been a druid, this forest felt more like home now than any apartment in which he'd ever lived.
"Alright then, let's make some luck." It had been one of his favorite sayings from the old world. Chance favors the prepared mind, a quote from one Louis Pasteur, the man who, single-handedly, proved life beget life and saved billions of lives through the treatment of milk and other easily spoiled potables. He also contributed to the determination that molecules had distinct, mirrorable geometries which were chemically distinguishable. Ulric considered him to be a folk hero and a model for making hard work do most of your dice shaving.
First, the fire. Some light digging with a wood shovel revealed coals that soon glowed to life with vigorous fanning. A handful of wood shavings from the corner of his shelter he knew to be driest, a bundle of twigs, and more fanning produced open flame. In a few minutes the fire fanned tall, gifting the shelter heat and light with its flickering dance.
Next some wood cutting. Large branches yielded to Ulric's axe, driven by strong back and shoulders. In a quarter hour a stack of cut wood to sustain fire for the night. He'd bathe this morning, just in case he decided to hunt or need to go up the canopy, so he set a few cuts of the deer he'd butchered a few days ago, alongside some tubers, forest garlic, onions and greens, to slow roast inside a stone and clay oven he had built into the wall of his shelter.
Shedding the [Forest Lord] hide clothing, he went to his rock pool and, in the side depression he’d filled for this purpose, scraped the previous day’s accumulated filth from his skin. He'd need to rinse the clothing and soak it in the soapy pap he'd found you could generate by grinding the bark of one of the shrubs in the glade. Camp soap was a project on Ulric's radar. He had a goodly store of lard now, all the wood ash a man could want, and was confident he could render it in a double boiler using one of his baskets and a stone bowl. A mark of how accustomed he'd become to the morning chill that Ulric barely shivered in the cold water, although his good friend and partner had sought refuge inside his body at the combination of cold water and colder air.
There would be a freeze soon. The frosts seemed not to touch the canopy, yet, but that couldn't be far off. Vibrant gold foliage up there betrayed the movement of the seasons. Ulric lost himself in thought until he heard soft footfalls behind him and the sound of something dragging. Turning, Ulric found the boy had followed him to the pool, hide blanket still wrapped around his body. Ulric pointed to the spring and said "Water. Clean." before miming drinking from the clear waters.
Hesitating only slightly the elf youth went to the pool's edge and drank deeply. While he did, Ulric shrugged into his clothes, their familiar weight blocking the chill air completely. [Forest Lord] was some fine hide.
Nothing for it then, they had water to clean up the mess and Ulric had to do something about that nose. He strode to the child's side and took a corner of the hide blanket, dipping it into the water, and gently as he could, scrubbed the child's face holding the kid's shoulder to steady him. Dirt, snot, dried blood, and whatever other filth came away and the damage could be seen clearly.
Those assholes had sure enough pounded on the kid. Eyes had been blacked and, although the swelling had come down slightly since yesterday, were still very much swollen. Cuts on the high cheek bones and above the eyebrows indicated he'd probably been hit with either bare fists, boots, or some kind of weapon handle. No fine edges to suggest a bladed weapon had been used on him. So, they'd wanted him alive for something but hadn't been worried about roughing him up.
Best to get the worst over with soonest.
"Boy, you've broken your nose badly. It's got to be set, and you're not going to like it." Ulric told him softly but firmly. He knelt down next to the child and pointed at his nose, and then pointed to the child's own. The boy knew what he meant and he also knew it was going to hurt, shaking his head.
"Can't be helped. You can't breathe right. Longer it goes on, more it's going to hurt and the longer it's going to take to heal." Ulric was pretty sure the elf had no clue what he was saying but he needed to reassure the kid as much as he could.
He'd never been good with young people. They seemed to think older people told them to do things for fun, instead of trying to avoid cleaning up yet another mess made by an incompetent attempt at something. Tell them, "No, not like that, do it like this." show them step by step and everything and they'd still do what they thought the first time they lay eyes on it and fuck it up royal. Still. The kid was his responsibility, for now, and he'd do his best to prevent him coming to undo harm, if it could be avoided.
He reached to the child's nose and the boy squealed and tried to pull away. And that was precisely enough of that nonsense.
Scowling at the child he felt the spirit of his grandmother, her stony aura which brooked exactly zero fuckings with, rolling off him. One hand held the child's shoulder like a vise and the other gently but with iron in it as well took the kid's chin and he stared into the vivid eyes of the child his ancestral tongue coming easily as he repeated the words said to him when he'd skinned knees and had alcohol applied to the wounds.
"Schrei, wenn du musst, aber jammer nicht."
Wide eyed, the youth stilled and nodded his head. Even if he didn't understand the words he knew the situation well enough to stop squirming.
Ulric set the nose in a single twist which was accompanied by the loud wailing of the child. Gently he patted the boy's back while he cried into Ulric's shoulder. He deserved a cry, it had definitely hurt like a bitch. A few minutes passed though and the sobs had died to the odd sniffle. When the Elven youth stepped back Ulric released him. The child looked up at him and nodded his thanks. At Ulric's return nod, and gesture towards camp, the two returned to the fire. There they breakfasted on roasted meat and vegetables. Both ate greedily, and washed the meal down with fresh water.
As they sat, heat of a warm meal in their bellies and the cheerful glow of coals washing over them the boy looked up and spoke for the first time, "You asshole, even not bad man. Thank you."
Ulric was stunned. He had been able to speak the entire time? "You little bastard."
