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[Thrax]

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Nizzre was furious. She could barely keep from charging out of the room to find the were-rat Skurj and garrote him slowly while flaying him alive. His screams might help calm her down, she mused as her rage mounted. "Where is he?! Tell me!! I am going to kill him right now!!" she hissed.

Dharzhal, her father, sighed. "Don't be a fool, girl. With that nose of his, he would detect your presence before you got within twenty feet of him... and then YOU would be the dead one... if you were lucky," he replied, calmly. "I will not lose you and your mother to them. Stay clear of them, do you hear me?"

In a huff she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She had never understood why he refused to accept the propensities, and, to her at least, proud traditions, of their race... vengeful cruelty being foremost. She met Maggy, who was carrying a set of fresh towels, in the stairwell of Hunter's Lodge. Maggy saw the anger flash in her eyes and quailed for a moment. "Is anything wrong?" she muttered. Nizzre shook her head as she swept past her. Maggy stood by as she continued her mad dash for the front door. Shaking her head she continued upstairs to the teleporter on the second floor that would take her to the third floor and the guest rooms.

In his room, Dharzhal remained bedridden. He still could not sit up nor do much of anything at all, except feed himself, without help. An unrelenting stiffness had settled in his back and arms. Large bruises, barely visible due to his dark skin, and the fractured bones, made any movement at all an agonizing ordeal. He lay on his right side on the bed, facing the door. Presently he heard the lilting tones of a wistful song. Maggy was in an adjacent room, singing while she worked. The beautiful melody and words filled him with angst; a sweet forlorn sadness. From it, he could tell that her heart was made of gold: soft, pure, priceless and pliable ... one that knew well the meaning of both love and joy, pain and sorrow.

The door opened suddenly and Maggy walked in still humming the tune. She looked at him and smiled. He noted the loveliness of her face; her presence was an epiphany... the appearance of an angel, or goddess, to some poor afflicted waif cowering in the shadows. He returned the smile. "I pray my daughter's erratic and impulsive behavior does not unduly alarm you or your other guests? She is very headstrong and does not understand me sometimes," he tried to explain.

Maggy shook her head. "No, not me anyway. She is not the first person we've seen around here who behaved, as you say, erratically. We get all kinds. Besides, we were all very young once ourselves, weren't we?"

Dharzhal nodded. "Though it has been so long ago that I can hardly remember. Being young as an elf covers the first few hundred years you know."

Maggy set the towels down on a table. She took one, folded it in half, and dipped it into a basin filled with water. "How old is she?" she asked, wringing the excess water out of the towel.

"Sixteen going on five hundred," he replied.

Maggy glanced his way, laughing softly. She went to him. Kneeling down she began to softly pat his face and forehead with the towel. "We need to wash your hair again. I still see a few bloodstains in it... it's so white and all... shows everything," she commented. "How are you feeling today?"

"Honestly? Miserable... but tolerable... thanks to you."

She smiled. "Well, I don't mind, even though I'm sure your wife would rather be here to do this for you."

"She has dropped by a few times, against my wishes. I told her how much you have been helping. She is satisfied with it. But we were never formally married. It is what is known as common-law marriage. I often refer to her as my consort rather than my wife."

"Oh, I see," she replied. "Why do you not wish her to be here?"

"Lord Thrax would be sorely tempted not to nab two or three of us at one time if he thought he could. I do not want to present him with such a gift. I have asked Streea to stay away as much as possible and to make certain preparations for her and Nizzre to leave this realm."

Maggy gently helped him roll over so she could get to his back. She winced at the sight of the cuts and bruises, still unused to the look of it. "What beasts could have done this?! I cannot imagine anyone so callous and cruel!"

"I have seen worse, milady." When he looked up at her, he thought he saw tears welling in her eyes.

"It is things like this that make me ashamed to be a human," she remarked, the conviction of it made quite clear by her tone.

"Elves are no different my lady... often worse... and then there are orcs of course." He watched, gauging her response to his attempt at humor. He was thankful that from the glow on her smiling face it had revived her spirits. As she cleaned his wounds she began singing the tune again, softly, tenderly.

He sighed and closed his eyes. It was the perfect song for the way he felt today.