The sound of boiling water could be heard from the nearby food preparation block. It was when the visiting redblood had squirmed his way off of the couch and onto the floor that the farm trolls heavy footsteps could be heard approaching.
Fellah stood in the archway, hot damp cloth in hand, a very unusual frown displayed across the farm trolls face. Seeing Zindel laying on the ground he shook his head, placing the cloth onto the table and scooping the battered troll up and unceremoniously dropping him on the couch again.
”Quit causin' such a ruckus,” he said, the usual jovial upbeat tone of his voice, gone. Once he resituated Zindel, he took the steaming cloth and placed it on Zin's forehead. He then grabbed the bowl of stew and a spoon and lifted the sustenance up to the beaten troll's mouth.
It was obvious that Fellah wasn't happy, but he was also taking care of the troll who had tried to just murder him earlier in the night, so it was unlikely that he had taken any action of retaliation. For once he wasn't much for conversation. He knew troll society (more or less), he knew the cutthroat nature, he knew that trust was a rare commodity, but he had always assumed there was SOME sort of unspoken respect amongst lowbloods. Not to mention the fact that he knew this troll, at least in passing.
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