Despite returning to the camp only to be tied in his tent once more, Alazir was in high spirits.
"Risscan, wasn't it?" He asked as the warrior who was securing the fresh ropes worked, the same who had come to get him with Kotara.
"Yes," Risscan answered in a carefree tone; the victory had the entire camp in a good mood, and Risscan had no intention of letting Alazir spoil it.
"Invigorating, wasn't it? Perhaps you understand a little better now, hm?"
Risscan's knotting seemed to slow, but Alazir could not see the crease in his brow, and no immediate answer came. Alazir went on, unperturbed.
"How many did you kill?"
"I did not count."
It was Alazir's turn to frown.
"That's very different from "I lost count.""
Risscan stood, but did not move in front of Alazir.
"And did you lose count, Alazir?"
"No. I don't think I ever could. Thirteen. Thirteen more for the blood of my family."
"A warrior's honor is not in the number slain, but the cause for which they die."
Alazir was silent for several moments. When at last he spoke, there was a note of confusion in his voice.
"That...was not a condemnation?"
"No, it wasn't," Risscan crouched again and tugged the axes from Alazir's belt, "Cyrus says you aren't to have these. Not yet, at least. Kotara will be along later with a cloth for you to get cleaned up. After the revelry."
Risscan slipped out of the tent, letting barely any of the evening light spill in. Within the hour, the growing dimness of night revealed the flickering glow of a camp fire, shining through the tent wall, and the sounds of ceremony could just be made out on the other side of the camp. The fallen warriors would be honored first. Alazir bowed his head as mourning cries were raised, and pictured the still forms being buried in the sands. When the dirge subsided, the fire was stoked even taller and the celebration began, commemorating their victory. Alazir hummed along to the songs, bobbing his head serenely, eyes closed. He breathed in deep the smell of smoking meat as if he were eating, too. Bound though he was, the victory was as much his as anyone's.
The firelight was momentarily blocked by a silhouette, before Kotara pushed his way into the tent. He carried a bedroll under one arm, a wet rag dangling in his hand. In the other he balanced a plate of meat with a cup on top.
"Looks like you were right," Kotara said, failing in his effort not to smile.
"We both were."
Kotara dropped the bedroll and the rag on top of it, then set the plate and cup beside Alazir. While he untied the ropes, Alazir looked into the cup.
"Nothing stronger than water?" He asked with a smile.
"Ha, not for you, my friend. There," Kotara straightened up as the ropes came loose, "Now listen Alazir. I'm tired of wearing my fingers out with those ropes. Since our victory has him in good spirits, and there are no Dominion troops within even a day's march, Cyrus is giving you a chance. You will spend the night unbound. The armorer is expecting you to return your plate in the morning. Clean of blood."
"I haven't forgotten how to maintain armor, Kotara."
"No...I suppose you aren't one to forget."
"Enough of your somber talk, return to the celebration," Alazir waved towards the tent flaps and shrugged against the pole at his back as he made himself comfortable to eat. Kotara shrugged and made to leave, but Alazir finished a sip of water and hurriedly called him, "Kotara! I told you before, and you may tell Cyrus if you wish. There's no going back, for me. If there are elves in reach, I will seek them out."
Kotara frowned, sighed, then left the tent.
Left alone with his thoughts, Alazir hardly noticed the taste of the food. It may as well have been air. When he finished eating, he finally removed his blood-stained cloths and unstrapped the crusted armor. Taking the damp rag, he wiped away the stains on his skin and the steel until the rag was worn thin. He laid it all neatly in the corner, and spread out the bedroll. Only as he lowered himself gingerly onto it did he notice how sore he felt. Settling in, sleep came quickly, and with it, the dreams. The memories relived, over and over.
