Upon the platform from which sprang the smaller span over the abyss were Lakla, Olaf, and Rador; the handmaiden clearly acting as interpreter between them and the giant she had called Nak, the Frog King.
"Come on!" shouted Larry.
Out of the open portal we ran; over the World Heart Bridge—and straight into the group.
"Oh!" cried Lakla, "I didn't want you to wake up so soon, Larry—darlin'!"
"See here, mavourneen!" Indignation thrilled in the Irishman's voice. "I'm not going to be done up with baby-ribbons and laid away in a cradle for safe-keeping while a fight is on; don't think it. Why didn't you call me?"
"You needed rest!" There was indomitable determination in the handmaiden's tones, the eternal maternal shining defiant from her eyes. "You were tired and you hurt! You shouldn't have got up!"
"Needed the rest!" groaned Larry. "Look here, Lakla, what do you think I am?"
"You're all I have," said that maiden firmly, "and I'm going to take care of you, Larry—darlin'! Don't you ever think anything else."
"Well, pulse of my heart, considering my delicate health and general fragility, would it hurt me, do you think, to be told what's going on?" he asked.
"Not at all, Larry!" answered the handmaiden serenely. "Yolara went through the Portal. She was very, very angry—"