Saure looked up from the tome after reading this, somewhat puzzled.
"Elves live as long as they chose to, sweetling." Fred explained, "I ken that no one wants to live forever, in this world at least."
"No, I ken that. What I don't quite ken is 'Green times'. Green means plant life, doesn't it? Shouldn't it say 'Golden times'?"
"Oh, aye, that's how we would say it, but elves value all things green and living over gold and silver and precious stones. So, to say that times were green would be to say that they were very prosperous and fulfi-"
Suddenly he was cut off by an ear-shattering boom of thunder that lasted almost a full minute. When it finally died down, he craned his neck to look over the edge of the loft.
"Saure, can we get to the roof from up here? Is there a ceiling-door or sommat?"
"Well... there's a window on the far wall, but it's shuttered..."
Fred looked around for it, noting its placement. "You might want to go down and gather any food goods you don't want waterlogged. The flood's started."
Saure lifted a lamp and looked for herself. Surely, the floor was awash with muddy water. She gave a breathy sigh of disappointment, worrying instantly for her plants.
She scrambled down and began her task, wading ankle-deep in frigid, murky water. She gathered all the dry goods she could into a large oilskin, slung the fresh game over her shoulder and tucked the berry-basket under her arm. She somehow managed to scale the ladder with her arms full- using her feet, chin and three fingers. Fred grasped the basket between his teeth once it was within reach, freeing one of her arms and allowing her to pull herself up.
