Hethurin’s Visit

Who is that?

Hethurin Fairsong peeked around the kitchen cupboard and looked into the sitting room.  The world around him shimmered and flickered, a side-effect of the invisibility spell, but he could clearly see the man sitting on the couch through the strange view.

Why is he here?

Hethurin stepped around the corner to get a closer look.  The world continued flickering, unless the man was very perceptive, Hethurin’s invisibility would go undetected.  The man sat on the couch, unaware he was being watched.  He looked young, probably around 100, give or take a decade or two.

He’s about my age.

Hethurin walked around the couch the man was sitting on.  The other elf had long hair, styled a lot like Hethurin’s was.  His beard was cut similarly as well.  He looked different otherwise.  The first thing Hethurin noticed was his bulk.  He wasn’t overweight at all.  He was lean and muscled.  Hethurin looked at his own arms.  Hethurin was thin.  He’d never been very strong.  He held out his arm, looking at it.  The strange flickering continued as Hethurin maintained the spell.  He looked at the other elf’s arm, then back at his own.  He frowned.

That ought to make him happy.

How many times had Aeramin told him to stop eating conjured food?  He should eat real food to put a little weight on.

This is what he meant.

The other elf twitched an ear as he turned the page in his book.  Hethurin looked at the book.


Hethurin’s frown deepened.  It struck him as odd.  The man had some heavy armor on.  Most summoners would shun such armor, just as a mage would.  It would be too inhibiting for casting spells.  Perhaps it was for some reason.  Hethurin eyed the man’s large sword.  Maybe Aeramin had cooked up another idiot plan to go trap a demon in a circle.

I hope no one loses an eye this time.

He looked at the cat food bowls then back at the man.  Although the bowls were in plain view of the other elf, he was yawning.  Hethurin blinked in thought as he sat down on the floor, and leaned against the wall.  If the man slept soon, then he’d be able to feed the cat and get out before Aeramin woke.

Don’t cry.  Don’t cry.  Don’t let the spell fail.

He’d have time to think about who the man was and what he was doing in Aeramin’s home later.  For now, he had to maintain the spell.


Leave a comment

Filed under Sanimir, Story, World of Warcraft

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s