A Story Chapter II

He walked alongside the path, but did not touch it; something was wrong here today, as the blood stains he followed foretold. Reaching the marshpond, he watched as a young man who moved with amazing agility and grace for one dressed as a commoner, to lift a man with arrows in his side out from the muddy waters; hiding behind the unusually tall marshleaves, otherwise sometimes known as foxtails, he was able to finally see the faces of the two men: one was much too pretty to be Human and so guessed the boy to be Elven, and the other was the son of the famous rich farmer John Alderson. Quickly, he made his decision and followed the unnamed boy who carried whom he now realized with a flash was Rick Alderson, soon noticing they were heading towards a cabin he had spotted no more than a few hours ago before his relentless search for the source of the blood trail; he though to himself that he would stay and wait until the boy left before visiting his wounded friend, though when the boy did not come out by the time it was dark he gathered items for bedding and lay down to sleep.

   Awakening at the crack of dawn, he snuck through the yard and peered through one of the two windows and saw the boy feeding Rick, deciding then and there that the boy would not cause trouble. Finally the boy left though Rick was still unconcious and so he crept into the cabin and stayed by his friend's side until the man awoke, doing so until the Elven boy returned, until three days hence while he waited and watched with anxiousness by the window as usual, and strained his ears then to hear catch every word spoken between Rick and the stranger.
"Why am I here?" Rick asked, and he smiled as he thought how typical it was of Rick to be suspicious first thing.
"I am Zillon, who found you laying near death in the marshland, two arrows embedded within your chest and one in your side, yourself near death. I have cleaned and dressed your wounds, but now I must leave to hunt so we both may eat something." He heard the boy answer, for who else could the voice have belonged to, as he himself was carefully staying quiet?
"And your father is...?" Rick asked, once again never missing a thing.
After a hesitant sigh, the boy answered "I am the son of Xiimdan the Great Merchant."
"So that was it! Now I know why there is a cabin way out here..." He thought to himself brightly.
"I see; and am I an animal for you to take home and treat? When will I be set free, when you so desire and have tired of me?" Rick searingly questioned, positively angering Zillon.
"I found you wounded and near death, so I brought you here to be healed. I have introduced myself, but you have refused to return the same courtesy; if you find my hospitality so revolting, and yourself at such unease, then here is the door and you may leave at anytime....I am sorry if this is so far from your home of plush seatings and gourmet breakfasts." Zillon seethed; he could hear it threaded heavily within the boy's voice, even from his own position, and he almost laughed. "Rick had that effect on people." he thought as he grinned.
He watched as the Elven boy left without notice of the man sitting by the outside of the cabin's corner; this was his chance, and he grabbed it, and as he walked in he looked curiously around. "My, my, look what the cat dragged in." He began, then corrected himself. "Or Elf. You're going to get that boy into trouble, I know it, Rick."
"What would you know, Peters?" Rick spoke sarcastically, not even surprised by the visit; after the friendly hello to each other, they talked until evening, and Peters left.
The next day he returned, to find Rick grim and all too willing to ask for advice; hearing the story, he also grimaced. "I don't know what to say, Rick; you know it's always a bad idea to ask me for advice. However, I think you should let him join -- keep pretending you don't like him."
"I don't like him." Rick answered.
"Fine, then make sure he knows. In the meantime, I'll come tomorrow or later, and we'll see how good he is in battle, ok?" Peters requested, uncertain of whether this was a good idea or not.
"Very well," Rick grumbled. "but if he's goo enough, you can take responsibility for him."
Seeing no way out while still having Zillon tested, Peters agreed and left.

He was again hiding, but this time he had cattle with him; he watched as Rick sighed while sitting upon a lump of grass, not sheathing his Sword or pointing it again towards the young Elf, instead dropping it as he held his wrists together towards Zillon. "You have bound me. I do owe you a great debt as well, for saving me, Elven boy."
"Nonsense!" Zillon protested as he realized what the man had just called him. "Wait...when did you--?" Sharply cutting off whatever he was going to say, though he thought he knew.
"Be ready for anything," Rick growled to his companion as together they prepared each in their own stance for attacking. "even for traitorous men belonging to the king....they never travel quietly, to or from battles, yet they do travel more quietly when returning from a battle; it's almost as if they wish to announce their presence, that they might die before the battle starts."
Bursting out with the cattle, he had to avoid three very speedy arrows before the Elven boy cried out in distress and something close to anguish, "What is going on here?"
"Well, we though we'd test your skill....but you're quite adept at realizing things quickly, it seems." Peters grinned.
"I object to this still." Rick spoke, but as Peters opened his mouth to speak, he instead let out a cry that was made from a mixture of  surprise and pain, for this time there was a true attack....and Peters realized as he began to black out that a poisoned arrow had dug into his shoulder.