Drenwulf opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, but gradually it cleared. Then he was blinded by a shining light.
"Ah! What is happening!" he cried. A kind-faced woman moved to his side.
"What is wrong? Where do you feel pain?"
"My eyes! It is so bright!"
The woman exchanged a concerned glance with another younger woman on the other side of the bed.
"Perhaps he has damaged eyes," the younger suggested. "For the sun is not even halfway up into the sky yet."
"There are no signs of damage," the older said, inspecting Drenwulf's eyes.
"What is the sun?" Drenwulf asked, shielding his eyes from the searing light. The younger laughed, but the older silenced her with a stern glance.
"Where do you come from young one?"
"An island. There was no light. Evil things there. They're coming! Coming to kill you! And take your ring!"
Now both of the women looked concerned.
"How does he know about the ring?" the younger asked confused. "And how can there be no light on an island?"
"He came from the Isles of Fire," the older woman drew in her breath sharply. "Bring Elder Rinyen here. Quickly Sutha."
"Right away Nelien," the younger said, and quickly left the room. Soon, Drenwulf was talking with an old man. He told him all that he heard but distracted by the old man's appearance. His face was more wrinkled than any he had ever seen, and a neatly trimmed beard fell down to his chest. He thought he had never seen anyone so old. The man noticed it. He smiled.
"How old do you think I am my son?"
"Sixty?" Drenwulf guessed. "That is the oldest I have ever seen a man."
"Oh my dear child," Rinyen chuckled. "We are not men. We are elves! I am approaching 600 years of age."
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