The elven man gives a slight snort of derision, as, with a grimace, he literally snaps his arm back into place. With a few murmured words, his good hand begins to glow bright green, and the wound quickly begins to knit itself back together. After only about twenty seconds, his arm looks perfectly fine, and he kneels down, to pick up his dropped blade, before bowing to the princess, and turning to leave, without another word.<br/><br/>"I would not worry. While he has a foul temper, he also respects the rules, and will not carry out further revenge in such a fashion. Particularly not where I might observe it."