16
The elf dipped his brush in his palette and began with broad sweeps on a fresh canvas which he had placed upon the easel. After a hard day’s march and with drowsiness sweeping over him as he sat in front of the fire, Adam hadn’t paid attention to the elf’s activities. He raised an arm to take another sip of his drink and was startled to see that the cup wasn’t there, nor was his right hand! As he stared, his entire arm disappeared to the artist’s chuckling. He looked down to see his right leg vanishing. He was about to protest when, dizzily, he saw the elf dissipate: not so, he had disappeared, not the artist.
He found himself tucked up in a warm bed; the curtains were drawn, the valiant stub of a candle by the bed feebly lit the room. Adam was about to sit up, get out of bed and disc
