Chapter Text
Bartell smiled at the wind breezing across his face. The racing winds stung at his eyes and nipped his exposed skin, but after years of riding the skies at high speeds (or at least, speeds considered high to someone an inch tall) he didn’t mind too much. Not only that, but the view from high up made almost any flight worthwhile. The Leafy forest below him glowed beautifully as the gentle winds shook then, while the sky was a wonderful shade of baby blue and sported a handful of cumulus clouds floating effortlessly across the atmosphere’s mass.
Bartell felt a squeezing sensation around his midsection, which eased him out of his awed trance. He remembered that he had a passenger in tow and almost chuckled at the meek attempt to grab his attention.
“You doing okay back there, Alfur?” Bartell asked while adjusting his grip on Cedric’s reins after he came to the realization that he’d let his form slip. It really was shameful how sloppy he’d gotten on just this one trip.
“Oh, uh,” Alfur sounded nervous, yet he loosened his grip around Bartell’s torso. “Yes, I’m doing just fine, thank you. Sorry if I was hurting you,”
“Aye, no worries.” Bartell hummed and turned his attention back to the sky.
The two sat in silence for a short while as the wind continued to breeze past the trio. The silence eventually got so thick and awkward that one could probably cut it with a knife. It dared both elves to cut it.
“ You know,” Alfur dared “if you let me do most of the talking, I might be able to convince any officials to not make you do any paperwork"
“Really?” Bartell asked, almost shocked “Why would you suggest this? Are you embarrassed by me?” He joked. Alfur wasn’t too impressed by Bartell’s humor, though.
“No! I just thought that you’d want to avoid-”
“It was a joke! Relax, min lille”
“Oh… apologies”
The silence, now fortified with embarrassment taunted both of its tourmentees with the inescapable predicament they both found themselves in. Well, not completely inescapable if either of the tourmentees were keen on throwing themselves off an airborne bird thousands of elf miles off the ground.
Eventually, tiny houses could be spotted from the air which Cedric flew through. Bartell squinted to look at them, amazed. He’d never seen so many houses so close together before! Sure, his village was large, but compared to the occupancy of the counties, his village now seemed rather pathetic and small. And the elves...There were going to be so many more elves than he had planned to deal with…
“How badly do you want no elf’s land?” Bartell asked, trying his hardest not to show any signs of possible nervousness.
“Well, I-” Alfur paused for a moment to write out a decent response in his head before he answered completely.
“It isn’t too important but I would like it if it’s still okay with you. I mean, if you really don’t want to follow through with this I completely understand and we can head back”
Bartell hummed as he thought about this.
“I’m not averse to giving it up although… I may take you up on your offer of you doing all the talking. Oh, hold on, I'm going to try and bring Cedric down a bit.”
Bartell felt his ears pop as he drove Cedric down towards the forest, closer to the trees. As they came closer, Bartell felt a pine needle brush against his boot. Apparently, Cedric felt some of the pine needles brush against her as well, as she darted upwards a little and began to throw a mini tantrum.
“Down Cedric!” Bartell bellowed, hoping that his steed would recognize his command and calm down, which partially worked. Cedric seemed to calm down a bit, and that was enough to calm Bartell, who was now once again confident in his control on his steed.
The next events were a blur. Cedric was steadily weaving through treetops after being calmed, while an ominous shadow loomed over them. Almost out of nowhere, a sharp hawk’s talon barely grazed Cedric’s small head. The bird of prey had come out of seemingly nowhere, and Cedric began to panic once more, this time throwing her passengers off with her tantrum.
Bartell’s breath hitched as he became surrounded by air, and nothing else. His limbs flailed in a pathetic attempt to grab onto some non-existent safety net. Bartell began to panic more when he gained a grasp on reality long enough to realize that the familiar sensation of Alfur’s arms wrapped around his torso had vanished. Bartell frantically glanced around as he flailed, hoping to find his small friend and-
Whack
Bartell landed uncomfortably on a branch attached to one of the trees that had previously been right below him. As he slipped off the first branch, Bartell concluded that this wasn’t going to end in the same way as it always did in the movies he had watched with Alfur.
Several branches and twigs were hit by Bartell’s head, torso, and limbs. At one point, Bartell had managed to shift his position enough to land foot first on a branch: something that he immediately regretted as his right foot came in contact with the bark. Yup, he was definitely going to feel that tomorrow. And possibly for a couple of days after that.
Bartell continued his descent until he felt himself slam against the ground, his body going almost completely numb at the sensation. Groaning, the elf tried to prop himself up off the ground, into a more maneuverable position. Bartell reached up to his face to cradle his throbbing head, but retracted his arm when his fingers came in contact with an unpleasantly warm liquid. As he brought his hand back, he couldn’t help but notice the red hue of the sticky substance.
Blood.
This wasn’t good. Bartell remembered Alfur, and once again began to frantically search for his friend. Had he been this beaten up by the trees as well? Alfur was so much smaller than Bartell, and not just in height. This certainly meant that Alfur would bleed out faster than he would. Not to mention that due to past experiences, Bartell knew darn well that a head injury was not going to stop bleeding as fast as something simple like a cut finger. Bartell continued his frantic search (or as frantic as one can be when they can barely move or feel) and eventually spotted Alfur, who wasn’t too far away luckily. Bartell let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and called out for Alfur. He got no response.
Bartell pushed himself from the ground so he could run over to Alfur’s unresponsive body. But as he got up to his feet, pain shot through his body. His right leg felt as though it were on fire, and as if it were being stabbed from the inside by several, tiny daggers.
Bartell screamed and collapsed to the ground, his breathing jagged, something that he hadn't noticed before. Pain continued to sear through his body as he mustered up enough strength to begin crawling towards his travel companion. He was nearly close enough to touch the other when everything became too much to bear. Adrenaline began to wear off causing Bartell to see stars, and his vision to go blurry. He desperately reached out for Alfur’s limp body as everything went black.
______________________________________________________________________________
Bartell’s head throbbed. He was sore all over and his ribs stabbed at his insides when he inhaled. Despite all this, Bartell made an effort to get up. After blinking away the disrespectful amount of rheum that had formed in the corners of his eyes while he was passed out Bartell found himself staring at a pure white ceiling, with bright lights shining down from small glass domes that were fixated in place on the ceilings. This certainly was not the forest he had passed out in.
Bartell sat up as best he could, and looked around. The walls and floor were white as well. After a quick glance around, he also noticed that his usual attire had disappeared. He felt around and looked at the new garment he had been placed into: it was a pale blue, horribly thin and pathetic excuse for a tunic (or any type of garment for that matter).
Bartell’s head throbbed harder as his eyes took in the brightness of the white room. He reached up to cup his aching head, but something felt off. As he ran his hands over the left side of his head and face, he felt a thick paper plastered to it… perhaps a bandage or sorts? He still couldn't decide what was making everything feel off when it clicked. He ran his hand over his entire head and gasped. The pain from the gasp had Bartell’s hands flying to clutch his ribs which were searing with pain.
Once Bartell had gotten a hold of himself he looked down at his chest and slowly removed his hands to his sides. He brought one of his hands back up to his head to confirm that he hadn’t gone crazy which, unfortunately, wasn’t the case. Half of the hair on his scalp had been removed completely. He could feel some stubble in some spots, giving the impression that whoever had shaved his hair had done it half-heartedly, leaving some patches longer than others, which was almost worse than having any hair missing in the first place.
‘ If you’re going to take someone’s hair without their permission’ Bartell decided ‘ then you might as well do a good job of it. Otherwise, what is the point!’
Bartell stared down at his hands, outraged at his recent discovery, yet at the same time emotionally numb. Unsure what to think, or what to do with himself, Bartell brought his hands up to his face with despair but froze after his palms made contact with his chin.
No.
No.
They didn’t.
Bartell quickly ran his hands over the area of his face where his beard and mustache would have been, but his face was entirely smooth. Hairless. Not even a trace of stubble. Bartell wasn’t sure whether to scream, cry, curse at the gods, or some sort of odd combination of the three. As he contemplated his choices with what willpower and rationality he had left, he managed to almost completely tune out the outside world, which would have been why he nearly jumped when a quick tap on his shoulder pulled him back into reality.
A young female elf awkwardly stood above him, looking rather nervous, yet in an oddly confident way at the same time. She was dressed in white, like the room surrounding the two of them, and wore a hat that looked oddly square compared to the pointy cone hats he had seen other county elves wearing.
“Ma’am, did you hear me?” She asked, tightly hugging a clipboard to her chest with the arm that currently wasn't resting awkwardly on Bartell’s shoulder. With some rationality now restored, he shook his head, about to ask her what she had said, but then realized.
“I’m sorry, ma’am?” he asked, glaring “Do I look like an, a, ah,” Bartell trailed off, trying to find the right words amongst his rage.
The girl in white jumped almost an entire foot in the air as her eyes went as wide as table saucers upon hearing Bartell’s voice. The expression on her face read ‘Oh dear, it seems I have messed up and I should prepare to die’. Or at least, it read that way to Bartell.
“Oh! Oh goodness, I am
so
sorry, SIR, sir, do you need anything from me? Water, food, I can-”
“I want a mirror,” Bartell stated flatly, his expression now cold. He had already been devastated and outraged by his unfortunate discovery, but a part of him wanted to see just how bad it really was...
The other elf nodded and scurried off, coming back a few moments later with a small hand mirror. Bartell tore it from her hand and gazed at the reflective glass. To his dismay, he had not gone crazy. His long, luxurious beard was in fact gone. Reduced to atoms.
Bartell ran his fingertips over the spot where his beard used to be, and explored the rest of his face. The paper-like material he had felt on his face earlier was in square shapes, and formed a line trailing from his chin, and disappearing a little bit behind his ear. There was a point in the trail of paper squares where the paper wasn’t able to cover everything, revealing a nasty looking scar.
Bartell winced, remembering his fall from the tree. But why? Why had whoever brought him here, wherever here is, think it was necessary to remove his beard? It wasn’t fair! Shouldn’t he have had a say in this?
“If that’s all you need then I’ll go and get the doctor…” the younger elf trailed off, and began to turn and leave. Desperate for information, Bartell’s arm shot out and grabbed the wrist of the elf who let out a small yelp at the contact. She turned to face him, her own pale and dripping with fear.
“Where is my beard?” He asked, finally acknowledging the anger boiling inside of him. The only response he got from the smaller elf was a whimper as she pulled from his grasp and ran out of the room, the stiff soles of her shoes clicking as they hit the wooden flooring in the halls outside.
Bartell scoffed and half-heartedly threw the mirror to the end of the bed, folding his arms. The sound of footsteps interrupted Bartell’s sulking only a moment later, and a tall elf wearing a white open coat of sorts stood next to him. This elf, seemingly too confident for his own good, pulled up a chair from the other side of the room and used it to sit next to Bartell. And he was starting to get tired of all the white.
“I understand that you’re distressed, you’ve sustained quite a few injuries and it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that you have a concussion.” The tall elf in white started “But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attack my interns, it’s quite rude.” Bartell glared at him, but said nothing.
“Okay, now that we have that out of the way, where would you like to start? I can list off your injuries in order from superior to inferior, anterior to posterior, vise versa on either of those, by the way.” Bartell continued to glare.
When he got no response, the other elf shrugged and pulled an odd chair next to Bartell’s bedside and sat next to him. “Alrighty then. You seem like the active type so I’ll start with the worst news first. The bones in your right are all broken or at least fractured. I would stay off of that leg of yours for a while, you’re going to want crutches as soon as we can get you off that bed of yours. You also sustained a head injury which resulted in an open wound and had open wounds in many other areas, which tends to result in a massive loss of blood. We were able to find a match and get you a donation while you were unconscious but I would still spend lots of time resting and eating and drinking as much as you can for the next few days, just to help your body readjust. Alright, before I continue do you have any questions?”
“What did you do to my beard? And my hair,” The elf in white gave Bartell an odd look.
“I wasn’t there for any of the operations, so please don’t shoot the messenger but, my guess would be that the operators had to do away with them because they got in the way of the doctors trying to stop your bleeding and sew you up, and such. All of that fun stuff, ya know?
Bartell stared blankly at the white walls ahead of him. This was going to be a worse weekend than he had thought it to be.