Northeast of Aerie Peak, Third War
"I think 'e's finally comin' around. Give 'im some air, lass."
The voice was gruff and heavily accented, but kind, and Leodry opened his eyes to see two faces staring down at him, one round and soft, and the other covered by the largest beard he had ever seen, both with tattoos of the like he'd never seen before. Confused, he moved, trying to sit up, but groaned with pain. He felt like he had been kicked by a few horses then dropped off a cliff.
"Don't try to move, laddybuck. Da found ye in the snow, half dead, days ago. We weren't sure ye'd make it, but here ye are. I'm Moira, what's your name?" She leaned back and Leodry realized she was quite short, no more than four feet tall. Dwarves. Dwarves found me.
"I'm... I'm Leodry. How long have I been..?"
Moira smiled again and patted his shoulder. "Ye've been out fer about, oh, I'd say three, maybe four days. "Why were ye travelin' through the mountains this time o' year? It's dangerous." She chided him, so much like Hannah, he almost laughed, if he wasn't in so much pain.
"I... I was running. Running away," he whispered. Moira turned to look at him.
"Ye a bandit? On the run from the law?" She asked, some apprehension showing on her face. Leodry quickly shook his head, which was a bad idea, as it was pounding.
He groaned again. "No, no nothing like that. I just..." He sighed, wondering how he'd explain.
"Quit pesterin' 'im, Moira, love. 'E don't 'ave te say anythin' 'bout 'imself iffin' 'e don't wan' te." Moira's father had left to get more hot water and had just returned with a steaming bowl and a clean cloth. Now that he was awake, he looked around to take in his surroundings.
A warm fire crackled in a large, stone fireplace. Stone walls were relatively unadorned aside from a few tapestries showing dwarves hunting. The low ceiling was also of stone and Leodry realized they were underground. He was laying on a low platform of some kind covered in skins, which was surprisingly comfortable. Of course, compared to where I've been sleeping in the last weeks, that doesn't surprise me in the least. A bed of rocks would be more comfortable.
"Sir," Leodry addressed Moira's father, "My armor... where is it?"
"I 'ad it taken to a local 'smithy for repairs an' cleanin'. It's a bit worse fer wear, but me friend will put it right again. And no 'sir' fer me, laddy. Call me Graz."
"Graz, then. My thanks, but... I can't possibly pay for such repairs, and I should be going anyway..." his voice faded as he saw the stern look the old dwarf was giving him.
"Nonsense, lad. Where ye goin' te go? Yer barely able te stay awake. Ye wouldn' get two steps afore fallin' again. No. Ye'll stay 'ere fer now."
There was no arguing with him. And he's right. I can barely keep my eyes open as it is, and whatever medicine they've given me hasn't had time to work. I feel awful and wouldn't make it far anyway. Maybe... maybe I've run far enough. Maybe I don't have to worry about them following me here. Maybe here, I don't have to worry about being a traitor. It's not like I'm in Lordaeron anymore, at any rate...
He fell asleep again, the fire warming his sore muscles with Moira and Graz tending to his wounds and sickness. For the first time in weeks, he was safe. For the first time in weeks, he slept soundly, his dreams filled with thoughts of home, and family, and peace.
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