The Adventures of an Elf and His Naga:P.10 2017NEW

Armon was getting really angry at himself for fainting so often. 

He immediately recognized the rich, earthy smell of soil as his eyelids fluttered open. Although it was dark, he could make out curved walls peppered with small pebbled stones and fine roots that encircled him. The floor was a slightly concaved dome shape, and not large of him to lay out full length, so instead, he was on his side in a fetal position. 

Armon slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position as he rubbed off stubborn clods of dirt stuck to his cheek. He noticed his clothes had been partially stripped because his Guard jacket was missing, leaving him in his simple cotton undershirt, and with further observation, he also noticed he was barefoot. He snarled to himself with the further realization he was missing his sword belt, sword, and the daggers he had hidden both at his waist and in his now-missing socks. 

His eyes moved upwards, following the seemingly impossibly deep walls to the rounded opening which revealed a lavender pink twilight cut from the sky. It was hard to estimate how deep the hole was, but it was certainly deeper than he was tall. Armon guessed it was at least a meter down. 

It was clearly a hole. A deep, narrowly dug, hole. 

Armon cursed and got to his feet and shrugged his shoulders in annoyance because his wrists were still tightly tied together. He studied the sides more and was further angered by their relative smoothness. Climbing out of here was not going to be easy, or maybe even possible. 

He opened his mouth to curse out at his brother but caught himself. The pastel sky probably pointed to the setting sun. Could they be asleep? Maybe, if I could climb out and they're not awake I could make a break for it. 

Armon set his jaw and began to work his wrists. The bonds were well set, Philch's new found skill set was starting to really annoy the Captain, and the material of the unknown translucent silk thread was alien to Armon. But, he had gotten himself out of greater bonds before, it would just take some work. 

He had managed to flex the muscles of his forearms and wrists when he realized Philch was tying him up, and now that he had relaxed the bonds were slightly loosened. But it was still not enough to simply shrug out of them. 

Armon sat down with a huff and began to wiggle his hands against each other behind his back. The motion usually helped stretch out the rope and sometimes the knot that fastened the rope. 

Many minutes passed and despite the soreness of effort in his shoulders from repetitive wiggling, Armon finally managed to slip out of his hands from the bondage. He rubbed his wrists and studied the silken thread more in the low light. It shimmered with a potentially magic quality, but it was so fine it could have been spider silk. Amazingly, it refused to stretch or snap, even in the elf's teeth. 

But Armon did not let himself have much time to wonder about the odd rope material. As he turned to face the nearest wall, Armon knew the hardest part of this escape was still ahead of him. 

He began to search for handholds with limited luck. When he grabbed hold of the small pebbles they only loosened from the wall in his hand, leaving a soft hole in the soil and Armon questioning the stability of the walls surrounding him. He would toss them aside and circle to the whole way two or three times until there were no more pebbles within his reach to pull out and a small pile of loose stones. 

Armon stacked up the limited supply of pebbles to make a small ramp structure which barely allowed him to height to reach one of the wiry roots sticking out from the wall. Thankfully, even after a few tugs, the root did not pull free from the soil. Yet at the same time, it was only one root and he could barely reach it with his hands over his head. 

Regardless, he grabbed the lone root with both hands and planted his feet on the cold soil and attempted the simultaneously pull and walk himself up the wall. 

The effort was exhausting and had limited results. Armon could get himself a couple feet up the wall before either a foot or hand slipped or the soil loosened causing his footing to stumble. 

After nearly a dozen tumbles and an elevated amount of cursing Armon's world was mostly dark. The sun had most definitely set and the evening sky was an ever-deepening indigo and more and more stars began to peak through. But, this deep down and stuck in the shadow of the hole, Armon found himself in near darkness. His eyes struggled to spot the careful nooks and crannies in the walls and the lone root far above was an inky cut across the slightly light sky above. 

His hands were raw from gripping the root and arms sore from the effort of pulling his body weight. He let himself sit, back against the wall, and attempt to think of a new plan as he looked up at the opening. 

Armon made out the faint smell of wood smoke despite the overwhelming smell of dirt and his ears caught the faint snap and pop of a fire burning. He gave a shiver, it had only gotten colder the longer he had attempted to climb out. 

"Do you want a blanket or some hot tea?" A voice called down from above with a slight echo. Armon immediately glared upward to see his brother leaning over the hole, a folded blanket in hand, with a tired expression on his face. 

"You put me in a pit," Armon snarled and hugged his arms close to his chest. 

"Seriously, I don't want you getting cold. Tonight's already gotten pretty chilly," Philch ignored his brother's growl with an eye roll. 

"I don't want your pity blanket," Armon kept the shiver out of his voice. "I'm fine." 

Armon heard his brother sigh and mutter something under his breath before a dense blanket landed on his head with a thump. "I said I didn't–" He cursed and pulled the woolen material off his head, but Philch had walked away from the opening of the hole. 

Despite his bitterness, Armon did wrap the blanket around his shoulders, thankful for its thick and good quality knit, and he continued to think of how he was going to manage to get out of this pit. 

*****

Philch gave a tired sigh as he walked away from the hole which contained his brother and its neighboring dirt pile. He ran a hand down his face, pulling at his tired cheeks, before marching back over the Marcus.

The naga lounged close to the crackling fire pit, his own blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and his fingers laced over his swollen middle. He seemed quite contempt in the moment judging from his heavy eyelids. 

Marcus probably would've been long asleep by now if Philch hadn't needed his help to dig the hole. But they had had to act quickly to contain Armon before he came to again, and with Marcus' superior size he could accomplish the task much faster than little Philch. 

Of course, this, unfortunately, left Marcus with a developing stomachache as his insides began to work at his large meal. Nagas almost always fell asleep right after eating a meal that was big enough to stretch their stomachs because it dulled the cramps and aches of the muscles required to kneed and pull apart the lump. But if they remained awake they usually found it difficult to fall asleep for the same taxing reasons. 

Marcus winced quietly and shrugged down more in his blanket. Philch grabbed a folded blanket himself and tossed it over his own shoulders, "Would you want any widow bark? Maybe it will help dull the aches," The elf offered. 

The naga gave a polite "no" with a nod, "It's not that bad, I'll still be able to drift off," He slouched down more in his coils and rubbed his middle slightly. "It's just one pheasant after all." 

Philch shrugged before marching over to his friend. The naga watched silently as the elf managed to scale up his smooth coils on all fours and stumble into Marcus' makeshift "nest" of his lower self. Philch gave a small "oomph" as he rolled over onto his back, finding himself on a nagaian middle and Marcus with a slightly pained expression from the elf landing all knees-and-elbows on his swollen belly so suddenly. "Sorry," The elf apologized and made sure to move slowly into a criss-cross applesauce position.  

"It's alright," Marcus managed a small smile and slouched lower still in his coils as he pulled his arms up to his chest. His head was propped upon a coil of his tail which encircled his upper body entirely, it was all very cozy. "Just don't go kicking or punching me. Then, it won't be so alright." Philch felt the tension in the skin beneath him lessen as Marcus' abdominal muscles relaxed.

"I'd rather not end up in the same boat as the pheasant." The elf gave a sideways smiled at the naga who rolled his eyes with the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. 

"I like to keep my elves and my pheasants in separate gastric organs, if I am allowed the choice," Marcus gave a deep sigh and Philch was unbothered by the rise and fall of the body beneath him. "Otherwise, the elf starts whining about "grossness" and the pheasant takes to long to digest. It's really just not ideal." The naga looked to his forehead with a dramatic expression. 

"Uh huh," Philch blinked when he felt a muscle twitch under Marcus' skin. "You're warm enough, yeah?" The elf changed the subject, deterred by Marcus pulling the blankets closer.  

"Mm, yeah. Between the fire, my sweatshirt, and this blanket I'm good and toasty," Marcus smiled and closed his eyes. "And a good meal helps a lot as well." 

Philch nodded and stretched his legs out slowly before himself. "That's good." The fire wouldn't need more wood for several hours, but it was not like Philch could manage to get more logs on it anyway, but even the embers would last till morning. And it was good they had the sense to bring heavy blankets. Even on these summer nights, it could get surprisingly chilly when the sun went down. 

"Armon's alright, yeah?" Marcus asked, lifting one eyelid a little. 

Philch wriggled his nose at the thought of his brother, unfortunately, held captive, in the hole not far away. "Yeah. He didn't want anything but I gave him a blanket anyway. I'm pretty sure he did get out of his bonds, but I doubt he can climb out of the hole. Afterall, I couldn't, easily." The elf closed his own eyes and shifted under the warmth of his blanket. 

Marcus gave a nod of understanding. "Yeah. Do you think he will be easier to reason with in the morning?" He spoke and closed his eyelids again.

Philch gave a tired sigh. "Honestly? Probably not. I don't know what we are going to do with him. He just– It's like he can't listen. Or, understand, or something." The elf ran his hands through his hair. "And I get why he can't. It's not an easy thing to reason with, a lamb and a lion befriended." Philch laid down slowly, head resting on Marcus' chest, and his body following the subtle curve of Marcus' meal within his torso. "And, if we can't reason with one elf in my family, how do we reason with the rest of the lot?" 

Philch closed his own eyes with a sigh. He focused on the rise and fall of Marcus' slow breathing and the beat of his heart off to the left of his head. He let his ears listen more, catching both the occasional gurgle of Marcus' stomach and the snap of an ember in the fire or the distant chirp of a cricket. 

He opened one eye when the weight of one of Marcus' hands settled over him gently and the naga chuffed a deep breath. "We will figure it out, don't worry. They're still your family Philch, and they will understand because it's you," Marcus yawned before continuing, "And if they see that you're happy and healthy, then they will come around. They've got to." 

"But. What if they don't? Again, this is me." Philch chewed on his lip in worry. When Marcus didn't respond to his friend's doubt the elf glanced upward to find Marcus' face smoothed with sleep and his lips slightly parted as he began to snore lightly. Philch gave a small smile, wiggling his hands out from under the naga's, before clutching gently onto one of his friend's fingers. "Yeah, you're right, we will figure it out," He spoke quietly and gave a gentle pat. "Night buddy." 

Marcus may have muttered a reply under his breath in his sleep but Philch drifted off without bothering to wonder what the naga had said. 

*****

Armon waited for the sound of the voices to fade before he stirred again. Now, it was quite dark, and he wondered what hour of the night it was. 

Regardless, he knew he had to get out of here even if it did take him all night. 

It had only been mentioned briefly but Armon caught Philch admitting he had managed to get out of the hole himself, even if it had not been easy. Armon squared his jaw, of course, Philch had tested this prison himself and he judged it would be enough to hold Armon in place even if he had managed to get out himself.

But that meant it could be done. 

The elf shrugged off his blanket and stood up, hands searching the walls for some sort of a handhold. However, he grabbed at a slight bump or cupped his hand into a slight depression the dirt only crumbled away. The walls were so unstable, and each time I touch something I risk them caving in. How am I going to manage to get out? He licked his lips and pondered. 

Armon looked up to the starry circle of the opening above and made himself take a deep breath. He had to think about this differently. How would Philch climb out of here? He thought with a scowl and searched about. 

He could just ask the man-eater to lift him out. Armon snarled but made himself run through the other options. Must he have climbed? What would another way be otherwise?  

Time and time again Armon's eyes settled on the fine, fragile looking root tendrils sticking out of the walls. Yes, he had focused on the only larger root above him which obviously supported his weight, but he had assumed these fine roots would only snap if he pulled on them. But, looking to the fine-and-fragile appearance of the rope which had held his wrists so surely, Armon let himself wonder... 

He jumped up and managed to grab hold of a hair-thin root and much to his amazement, the material held. 

Armon's grip tightened and he set a serious expression on his face before he let go and took a step back to admire the wall.

I know how to climb out of here now. But it was not going to be quick or easy. He would have to piece together each hand and foothold before he even attempting to begin climbing out of here, and who knew how long that would take. If he did make a false grab he would most definitely fall back to square one and have to start again. 

But, scanning the walls, Armon knew he would eventually be able to see the correct path and scale the walls, he only hoped he could do it without waking the naga or worse, his brother.