Garion is in one of the beds in the infirmary where he's been since he came in yesterday. He's been asleep for most of it; his consciouness had been an effort of pure will kept up only in an attempt to lessen what worry his friends might have for him. This morning, however, his eyes did open (though it was something of an effort) and while he
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"Garion?" His voice is a little low at first.
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He's still talking like this. His mouth hurts and since he has an alternative, he's using it.
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"That was an incredibly stupid thing you did," he says conversationally.
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He sighs, though.
It wasn't stupid until I got there and saw the kind of thing I was dealing with. The idea was sound.
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"Hi, Garion," says Ray, who's got Francis with him. "Bar said you were.... yeeeugh, you don't look good."
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It wasn't anything to do with you and I won't have you getting upset. I shouldn't have gone by myself in the first place. And, Belar preserve us, but I've never seen anything like the things I saw there. I had no idea.
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Garion, where are you?
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He's not lying, but he does make it sound as if he's hung over instead of seriously injured.
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She does love to pounce her husband when he's hung over.
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Still, not a lie.
How are the children?
And he tries not to let the faint desperation in his tone give him away, but the thought had been there, terrifying and true.
He might have died without seeing them again. Without saying goodbye to them. He might have left Geran to the throne, as scared and confused and even more unfit to rule than he had been. As fatherless. And Beldaran, his little girl... the idea of her crying for him and him not being there? Ever?
He feels worse than an idiot over the whole thing. The only thing that helps is remembering that he's alive and he will see them again.
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"Hey," he says quietly.
Pay no mind to the ashes on his forehead. It's an Earth thing.
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Hi, Charlie.
He's a mess. His wrist is in a brace, his leg is broken, his ribs are either cracked, bruised, or broken and while Suzi had helped with the bruises, he still vaguely resembles an eggplant at some spots. There's a patch over the stab wound on his left shoulder as well.
Good to see you.
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No eating for Garion anytime soon, clearly.
"I'd ask how you're doing but that'd just be redundant. Can I get you anything?"
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What's a truck?
He's been in an automobile, but he's unfamiliar with the term.
It probably did hit me. There isn't much that didn't.
He looks to Charlie.
If you could let Indy or Mike know that I-- well, I might be able to bartend, come to think of it, but I'll have to talk with them about it.
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He's singing something quietly to himself. It sounds like selections from the Romantic poets set to the tune of "Eleanor Rigby" and "I am the Walrus" with occasional floating renditions of the John Donne version of "American Pie."
Also, there seems to be a very small dragon sleeping on the table next to his bed.
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...to be fair, Garion's only exposure to Earth music has been from Charlie and the iPod he was given once which held the total collected works of the band Kamelot.
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Miniver squints his eyes at the ceiling.
"I thought I told you to be good little gnome kittens and go to sleep. I keep trying to find the right lullabies but eventually Maeve is going to come take you to the fairy city and keep you there forever."
His tone would seem to imply that his mind is not entirely at home just now, but he can't help it that Garion's voice seems an awful lot like his delusions.
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He'd talk normally, but his jaw is so sore, he doesn't even want to consider the posibility of it.
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