I awake to the familiar smell of camp smoke, that old woody smell that would keep bugs away at night. The next thing I notice is that whatever I'm resting on is nice and hard. A comfy hard, but hard all the same. Along with the most likely wooden bed is a thick and heavy blanket. The blanket feels different to the one's I'm used to, but so is most things in Medieval land.
On the topic of Medevil, there's the great pain that caused me to wake up in the first place, located in my everything. Now that the fight with whatever it was is over, the pain is no longer undermined by limitless adrenaline. I move my limbs a little bit and stop once the pain flares up. In my current condition it wouldn't be a mistake to say that I'm crippled for life.
From what I can feel, nearly all of my ribs broken, my arms and legs are also broken, and so is my everything else. So you know, tip top condition. I open my eyes for the first time and finally see where I am. It's a wooden house that goes up say eight feet.
A great wooden beam serves as the apex of the ceiling and roof with other smaller beams heading off the sides. Looking away from the ceiling to the floor, I notice that it's packed dirt. I also notice that there are around nine other beds or ten in total. Along the walls are many bookcases and shelves, containing both books and likely medicinal supplies.
While surveying the room, I hear a noise separate from the crackling of the fireplace. A door's handle is turned and the creak of its hinges indicates someone or something has come into the room. I try to lift my head but the pain is to great to try further than a centimeter.
So I lay my head back down and speak for the second time, now with a very dry and raspy voice, "Who's there?"
The person stops moving at my question. To try and put them at ease, I tell them "It's okay. I'm just curious who's there. Also, sorry for the voice, I don't want to sound like this."
After a few seconds of deafening silence, the person speaks and their voice is not dissimilar to a teenage boy. "I'm sorry for waking you. I was instructed by Elder Barrenk to look after you. How are your wounds feeling?"
I laugh at his question and immediately feel bad about it. I give an awkward cough and say, "Sorry, it's just, that question is funny to me... I'm unable to move any part of myself without immense pain and the pain is still there even when I don't move. Was it this, uh, Elder Barrenk who healed me?"
The boy probably nods but then realizes I can't see so he speaks up, "Yes, it was Elder Barrenk who did the tending. I was his assistant in the matter."
"Well thank you, both you and Mr. Barrenk."
The boy wanders over to a chair that was beside the bed. He sits down in it and asks a question that was on his mind. "If you don't mind me asking, where are you from? You're definitely a foreigner but you don't act like Angle nor Saxon."
"Uh, well I come from somewhere far away."
He nods, "I know and understand that, but you look more closely to the Foreigners that any of the other tribes and kingdoms. Do you even know the place you were found in?"
I'm blindsided by his probing questions. I open my mouth only to close it again, nothing I say would be sufficient for this kid. Think, Robert, think... Lies are the most believable when there's truth in them. So I'll just tell some of the truth then.
"I was attacked by someone and when I woke, I was in that forest."
The boy's eyes lessen a little as he leans back into the chair. He stays silent for a little while. In his silence I feel a great drowsiness come and before he can ask another question, I fell asleep.