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A young scandanavian woman is sold into a Mayan world.

"Huh? Oh, what did you want?" Fenella replied, sounding distant.

It seemed strange to him, she hadn't ever seemed so distracted before. 'Whatever.' He repeated his question.

"Ah, they are in my chest obviously." She said, then immediately returned to her own thoughts.

'I meant where your chest was... Oh well, I'll find it.' Sam thought. He glanced at the faces surrounding the fire before standing. Three of the captive elves looked back contemptuously, while one looked away, seeming conflicted. She looked familiar, but he didn't bother trying to place her at that moment. Vielchena, he noticed, was still wearing her armor and hadn't put on any new clothes underneath. 'Holy... She must be freezing! I'll go get my extra pants and shirt for her!'

He tried to jog back to the carriage, but slipped in almost the exact same spot as last time. Again, Letta was there to save the day. Or rather, his ass from getting covered in frost.

"Thanks, again." He whispered, and she nodded again.

With that, Sam went to the back of the princess's carriage and found first his spare clothes, then the cooking supplies and returned to the fire. He circled it and set the worn pants, spare socks, and grass stained shirt in the elven knight's lap. She looked up, her stare emotionless, then back down at the clothes as if she didn't understand what to do with them.

"Er... Vielchena? You should change into those. You might freeze out here, so please wear them." Sam said, unsure how she would react. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the captive elves jump slightly at hearing him speak their tongue. One of them grumbled something, but Sam couldn't hear what. "Sorry, they're a bit dirty still but please wear them."

"Master..." Was her only reply, then she stood and started stripping off her armor.

"H-Hey wha...?" He tried to tell her not to change right there, but she either ignored him or didn't hear.

Seeing that he wouldn't be able to get her to move he just looked away. Putting the pot over the small flame, he took some of the spare wood and stoked the fire, then began preparing the soup. A few minutes later he glanced back at the knight and saw that she'd dressed and put her scratched gold armor back on over it. His large clothes peeked out from every open crevice in her armor.

He sighed and stirred the soup, wondering why she had been acting the way she was. The elves were staring at the pot of soup hungrily, forcing themselves to look away when he glanced at them. As he cooked, he silently explained to Letta everything that she hadn't already heard about the occurrences in the city of Fraeline. After the food was done, he began to ladle it out into the mismatched bowls and hand them to everyone around the fire.

Fenella became more alert when he stuck the steaming soup under her nose. She cooed, grinning, "Why thank you, Sam!"

Darrel just nodded, tasted it, then nodded again approvingly. Vielchena took it, then murmured 'master' again, causing Sam to flinch. The elf who'd seemed conflicted about something earlier took the bowl he offered with only a moments hesitation, she nodded her thanks reluctantly. The two male elves refused altogether, and the last female captive took it with a scowl. None said anything to him.

He sighed and sat back down with his own bowl. The meal passed without conversation, and Sam wasn't too bothered by it. He needed some time to think to himself. '...Well, it looks like Theodore will last at least until we get to the capital, Geylin or whatever it's called, but I'm still not sure how I can get them to heal him. Hell, we might not even get into the city alive if word of what's happened reaches them before we do.


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