Re: [Altamira] Rindley's training
As Rindley regained consciousness came slowly into view. He was lying in a bed, face up, looking at a white ceiling. Sluggishly he attempted to sit up and get a better view of his surroundings, but pain shot through the back of his head. He winced and then gently, with one arm lifting up his head, felt where the pain had been. Their underneath his hair, was a massive lump. Whoever had hit him had hit him very hard.
“I wouldn’t try to move just yet,”
A man with warm comforting voice suggested from close by. Rindley couldn’t see him and decided it better to not try to turn his head and see him. He didn’t sound threatening, especially if he was the one who put him in this bed.
“But it is good to see you’re awake,”
Rindley could here the sound voice grow louder, the man was coming towards him. The man bent over Rindley but due to the brightness of the ceiling Rindley could not see his face.
“Here drink this,”
Rindley could feel something metallic pressed against his lips. Rindley opened his mouth at let the man pour a sweet watery liquid into his mouth with a metal spoon. The effects were immediate. Rindley could actually feel the bump on his head going down, he no longer felt sluggish but was alert and awake. He sat up and got a look at his healer for the first time.
The man was very tall with a handsome face. He had long white hair combed back behind his rather large pointy ears. Rindley would have thought him a Hylian had it not been for the pale yellow colour of his skin. He wore a long white coat of the kind Rindley knew alchemists wore. Rindley was at loss now for what to say. Looking around he was surrounded by pale turquoise curtains and could see nothing else of the room he was in. Looking back to one who healed him he meant to say ‘Who are you?’ But instead came out as,
“What are you?”
The man chuckled and replied,
“Me? Well I suppose in many places my kind would be known as ‘high elves’ or ‘sun elves’ or even ‘light elves’ but in our own tongue were I am from we are known as the Cindar and I am a Cindarin. And my name is Lycian,”
“Your own tongue, you mean you don’t speak Hylian?” Lycian chuckled again.
“No of course not, it’s part of the magic of this place!” As he said this Lycian raised his arms and looked up at the ceiling before looking back at Rindley. “Everyone hears everybody else in their own language no matter where they are from.”
“You said ‘this place’ but where exactly am I?”
“You sir, are in the hospital wing of ‘The Dome.” Lycian started to wander at the foot of Rindley’s bed with an excited smile on his face. “It is a place of wonders and delights, full of knowledge and adventure,” He then turned back to look at Rindley, “But it is essentially a school, you will at some point be assigned a teacher. What goes on from there is for you to discover.
“H-how did I get here?”
“You were found unconscious in a hall way. But it was strange, you had managed to be positioned with your satchel underneath your head and your cloak positioned over you like a blanket; like you had decided to go to sleep in the middle of the floor.”
“Satchel? I wasn’t carrying a satchel,”
“Well all you stuff is there,” Lycian pointed to a cabinet next to Rindley’s bed his, his staff was leaning against it. “Your fine now so feel free to get going whenever you feel like, safe travels and best of luck. Oh and I’ve put a bottle of that potion I gave you earlier in your satchel, you might need it you never know. Well good bye.” With that Lycian walked out of the curtained area and out of site.
Rindley shuffled out of the bed and sat on its side. He opened the cabinet door and inside was his hat, cloak, boots, and a satchel. With curiosity he bent over and picked up the brown leather satchel and looked inside. Inside was a loaf of bread, a glass bottle of amber coloured liquid (probably the potion Lycian gave him), some cheese, a water skin and a piece of paper. Opening the paper up, he noticed Scantred’s thin spidery handwriting. It was a letter or perhaps a hastily scrawled note.
‘Dearest Rindley
By the time you read this you should be long gone. I hope you can forgive my rather violent method of saying goodbye. But I knew that you would have never gone otherwise. I know that I have been unfulfilling in my role as a magic teacher. That is why I am sending you there to ‘The Dome’ so can you fulfil your dream. There I am sure you can become a great wizard. I leave you a gift, this satchel; I hope it will be useful in your travels into the unknown. I have packed some food and water for you. It should last about three days if you are careful. Now farewell and stay safe may the three goddesses watch over you.
With best wishes,
Scantred.'
Slowly Rindley folded up the letter and cried.
Moments passed and after a while Rindley wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He then put on his boots, placed his hat on his head, slung the Satchel over his shoulders, and clipped his cloak over his shoulders. Finally he picked up his staff, leaning on it heavily, and walked out from the curtains. Looking around he could see he was in a big, angular, stone room. On either side were many more curtains surrounding beds. Some were closed some empty. There was no sign if Lycian, so Rindley decided to walk around until he met somebody and walked out the door at the far end of the room.
He found himself in a long corridor with light stream in from many arched windows to his left. The air was warm and dry. Opposite the windows were paintings. All of which depicted some kind of battle. Men in armour fighting dragons or other men in black armour and such like. But one in particular caught his imagination. It was two wizards, one in blue the other in black, each standing on tall pointed rock, surrounded with energy firing it at the other. If only he could one day be that powerful. After admiring the paintings for quite some time he continued down the long hallway. After a while he began to notice a strange sound, like a child crying. He sped up his walk down the corridor. And there in the corridor he was a sight he had never seen. Something green and scaly with bat wings was curled up in a ball and crying in the corner. What astonished him even more was that such a creature appeared to be wearing clothes. A red short sleeved shirt and some kind of short blue trousers. He had seen pictures of dragons before in books. But never had he seen a real one. Now here was a young dragon, in clothes, and crying. Cautiously Rindley approached it.