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The cave is dark, dank, and dripping water from its stalactites as the two figures walk, slowly and carefully through it, the shorter figure supporting the taller one. The taller figure is clearly one of the Firstborn... His skin is pale, like alabaster and glows slightly from within, but unlike the light of a healthy elf, his flames seem to be guttering out.

As they move on, slowly, limping(?) onwards, they can see the tunnel is growing lighter... but the taller elf slumps even more, and so the shorter figure, cloaked and hooded, concealed from head to toe, has to stop as well, and help the taller elf to sit against the cave wall.

This does not help them at all.

The shorter figure swears viciously in a language that is not Sindarin, nor Quenya and, though fatigued, waits until the the taller elf is comfortable, before sinking to a crosslegged sitting position with a sigh of.. relief? Or is it exhaustion? Both of them are tired. Bone-deep tired. and both of them wants sleep. but...

"Why do you not...leave me....?" the dark haired elf asks, eyes, shadowed by his fatigue. "Go on ahead."

"Ch'K'Veshta! As if I'd get any further. Besides. It's YOUR home, not mine." the shorter figure snaps back, dryly. "Tis not as if I WANT to go there anyway. I'm only coming along to drop you off at your home and get some supplies. Then, I'm heading back."

The taller elf laughs somewhat scornfully. "To that... cave? Truly, you lack ambition."

"Better a cave in the wilderness than a city full of snobs." the shorter figure counters, as he leans back against a tall pillar of stone.

"They are not... going to look down at you. You brought me back, after all. I am a prince of the city! My uncle will be most grateful to you for your services."

The shorter figure snorts inelegantly to express his disdain for this line of thought. "Ch! As if that were true. My mother's people have a saying about the gratitude of kings, you know. It doesn't exist."

"And what of MY gratitude?! Do you have so little faith in me?" The taller elf snaps back, annoyed.

The shorter figure pulls back his hood for awhile as they rest.

"Ch'Nai. It has nothing to do with YOU." he frowns.
"Say rather that I have little faith in your uncle's letting me out after I enter the city. As far as your gates, will I go, and no farther.Fare thee well ,and all that jazz."

"What IS this Jazz you speak of?"

"A type of music my mother is not fond of."

"You speak of your mother constantly." The taller figure says dryly.

"And why shouldn't I?"

The taller figure shakes his head in amused resignation. "Fine. So. How long shall we stay here?"

"Until you gain back your strength. Rest, and I'll set up camp and change your bandages."

"...I can do it myself."

"K'Vai! if I thought you could do it yourself, I'd most likely LET you do it. As it is, allow me to finish the work and then you can pay me back in supplies, eh? That was my last change of clothes I had to rip up for your bandages. Soon I'll have to start on my sleeves."

An inelegant sound of scornful amusement from the taller elf is heard, and then he speaks again, "And if you come with me to my home, have no doubt you will be paid in full."

"Ah," the shorter, black skinned figure counters wryly, "But even if I was paid in full, could I LEAVE with the payment? That IS after all, the most important question."