Well, clearly, things were not as they seemed. A series of misunderstandings at best, at worst, a number of lies. At least he could understand the young man's story as seen through his eyes, as there was little else to do at the moment.Bront said:
"Sunny, I wish to understand you clearly", he stated rather deliberately. "Do you mean to say that you were with her one night, saw her with Troi the next day, drowned your sorrows that night, worked for the sheriff all day yesterday, and as soon as you were off duty started 'partaking of the ceremonial ale'? And that you haven't seen her since she was with Troi two days ago, unless you were in a drunken stupor at the time? Is there any part to the tale that I don't have precisely correct?"
Oirhandir believed that if Sunny answered him in the affirmative, there would be no point in questioning the young wizard further. Only the girl would be able to provide more clarity, and then only if she spoke truly.
Oirhandir marveled at the way of men and spirits. Wine brought frivolity and mirth, never sadness. Perhaps this "ale" had a dark side. Yet, when he drank it, the lightheadedness he felt was no different than the feeling he got when he imbibed the elven wine. Perhaps the difference lie not in the drink, but the drinker. And Sunny was not the first man Oirhandir had known that had turned to drink in despair as well as joy.
It was good that he could expect to live for several centuries, he thought. It would take that long to understand the strange ways of man-folk.
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