Excerpt, "Quest"

After his long journey, the bath brought refreshment and relaxation to his aching body.  He scrubbed his skin until he began to wonder if it would ever come clean.  At last he was satisfied and laid his head back to enjoy the soak.  No sooner had he done this than he heard what sounded like a crowd in the hallway moving in his direction.  Leaping from the water, Linvin took hold of a nearby robe and managed to tie it just as the mob entered the room.

Linvin’s eyes were stunned.  When he had heard that there would be tailors, he envisioned two men with bolts of cloth, chalk, pins and thread.  He was correct in that expectation as all of those things entered the room.  The shocking part was that there was an entourage of nearly thirty people with them.  Some bore racks of clothing while others were clearly seamstresses.  Only the tailors addressed Linvin, while the others marched through to another room.

The two tailors circled Linvin.  “He’s a big one, Freedron,” said one, as he grasped Linvin’s shoulders in order to gauge them.  The other man pulled Linvin’s robe off in one smooth motion.  “Look at the scars, Thelon.  Those will simply have to be covered in some way.  He looks far more common than I had hoped.”

“And the hair,” Thelon said, while trying to rake a comb through its length, “It’s like an untamed jungle.”

Linvin’s initial embarrassment at being disrobed was replaced quickly by angered pain as Thelon attacked his hair.  “Have you lost track of your senses!  That hurts!  Stop!”

Thelon paused for a moment.  “I apologize for the lack of formal introductions, Lord Grithinshield, but we have been retained by the lady of this manor to make you presentable in a very short time.”

“It can’t be done!” Freedron exclaimed.  “Even the greatest gardener cannot plant a flower and make it bloom by sundown.  He is a savage barbarian.  It cannot be done.”

Linvin smiled in a dry expression and put his arm around Freedron’s shoulders.  “Now Freedron, it is Freedron, Yes?”

“I am Freedron, of the House of Flairgall.”

“How quaint,” Linvin said with contempt, “Am I to assume that my mother hired you and your companion at great expense to dress and prepare me for the gala this evening?”

“Yes,” Freedron conceded with regret.

“Well then, my slight and frail friend,” Linvin said while squeezing the man’s entire frame with his one arm, “I suggest you get over your misgivings and do the task for which you were hired.  After all, I am sure you both have solid reputations in this town, which could only be enhanced by word of your part in my visual…blossoming, as it were.”~ 93 ~

 

The tailors eyed one another and nodded.  “Forgive our momentary discouragement, sir,” Freedron said with a bow, “We have much to do and time is short.  If you will but follow us into the adjoining room, we can get started.”

“Fine.  I leave myself in your hands,” answered the nude half-elf as he strode past.  On the way out of the room he paused to make one last subtle comment.  “Oh, and just for future reference.  If either of you ever call me a barbarian again; I will teach you the true meaning of the word.  At that time, gentlemen, your reputations will be the only part of you that survives.  Am I clear?”  Both wide-eyed men nodded in unison.  “Excellent!” exclaimed Linvin,  “Then begin your work.”