Herrol's Journey/2

Chapter I - In which we find out what happened after the last chapter
Sound. Somewhere, there was sound. He opened his eyes, and quickly closed them again. They were dry, and hurt. His arms hurt too, and his hands. And his fingers. His mouth was dry. He needed water. And food. His chest was hurting most of all.

Not his legs, though. His legs were fine.

A smell. A good smell. He tried to open his eyes again. Again, he immediately closed them. He then tried to get up, pushing the sheets away. The sheets were ragged. And sticky.

He jumped out of the bed.

"Woah, woah. Calm down, luv. You will wake the babies babies puppies birdies up," said a man's voice to his right. He opened the eyes again. This time it took.

He was in a small, cramped, dirty room. There were no windows. It was dark, but a single line of light entered through the half-open door. On the broken side-table near the bed, there was a spent candle. And another. And another.

"How long have you been taking care of me?" Herrol asked. His benefactor was a man in dishevelled clothes. He looked like a beggar. A particularly poor one. Over his grey torn shirt, he wore a mantle full of holes. Herrol noted he wore no trousers over his underwear. His hair was even more unkempt, including his thin pencil moustache.

"Long enough, long enough, long enough, long enough, long enough, long enough. Long enough? Long enough. No," said the strange man. He then offered Herrol the tray of food he held in has hands. He pulled his hands up to accept. The man threw the tray on his chest, "Have fun! Food is good. I like it. Sometimes. No. Yes. Yes."

Herrol thanked him, but made no movement to take the food from the ground. He noticed that the man's eyes moved wildly in their sockets, focusing on nothing for long. The man smiled, then made an angry face, then smiled, then closed his eyes and started sobbing for about three seconds, before smiling again.

"I...should be going now...Where's Mathias? The talking sword. Swordy talk-talky."

"Don't talk down to me. I'm not stupid. Am I? Yes I am. Talk down. Talk down. WAIT! Yes. Yes. Yes. The blade is in the chest. It talks too much. Want a fish? Fishes fly. Fishes fly fly fly, fly fly fly fly fly. Pants. They seem green to me. But they aren't! Yes. No. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes," the man pointed to a chest in the room's wall farthest from the bed.

Herrol opened the chest, it was unlocked.

"Ah. Finally! Wait," the sword hesitated a little before continuing, "You didn't kill the villain in a riveting duel to the death? Have you paid attention to anything I said? Conflict, conflict, conflict. The three Cs. Diplomatic solutions won't sell any books. How come he didn't kill you anyway, before he put me in the chest he said he would drive a dagger through your heart. Among other less sane things."

The man stopped muttering to himself and looked at the sword, "Did I? Oh yes! Silly head. Silly head. Isn't what it used to be. No. No. No. Yes. Wait a bit while I go get my dagger. I'll be back! I'll be back! I'll be black! Black is the new black. Grey. No. Yes," he said, while moving out of the little room.

"Okay, now we just wait for him to come back and we should have our duel. Don't worry, like I said, I'm magickal."