Character Art: Blue Grass

    Howdy! Emma here! Sometimes I like to doodle images of the characters in TROUF. This is something I did during our youth, mostly during idle time during the school day. I do this from memory and without really asking the person who created the character (bad form probably) or really looking at descriptions. I go off the idea of the character that I have in my head from our years together.

I figured I ought to explain my thinking, so I wrote up some notes both on the species and on the character. Fair Warning: Blue and the Nelfkin species were created by Rachel. My headcanon could be completely wrong.

Notes on Nelfkins and Blue Grass

Blue Grass is a Nelfkin. As such, she is small in stature and has a child-like form. It is common for Nelfkins to be confused for elf-children by humans who have little experience with either race. In my mind’s eye, the Nelfkin people have big expressive eyes, and rounded faces. Everything about them physically should be reminiscent of a six year old child. Their ears are considerably larger than the ears of their cousins the elves, and it is a feature of which their people are very proud. Their ears are also very expressive. They perk up when a Nelfkin is attentive or excited, and, when saddened, they tend to droop.

Blue is a practical woman, so she would wear practical clothing for traveling. As a guide of some renown, she is well outfitted for the road. She would keep some essentials on her belt (a dagger, her money, a small flask of Nelfkin Cheer), but most of her possessions would be carried in a pack. She usually keeps her long, dirty blond hair in a tight braid. This is out of a sense of simplicity rather than any sense of style. Braided hair needs less brushing. It’s practical that she should keep it tied back. Blue’s eyes are grey, but they appear to change color depending on the situation.

At 23, Blue is a grown up woman and she tends to get irritated when she isn’t treated with the respect she feels she deserves. Due to this, she has developed a bit of a caustic personality when it comes to strangers, and even friends, when they rub her the wrong way. She is quick to irk, and you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving side of her ire.

It is with this in mind that I share my most recent doodle. Blue’s hair is down, which is pretty rare, and she looks like she’s about to pommel someone. Anyone want to give a suggestion as to whom she wants to pommel and why? Feel free to leave your idea as a comment!

Blue Grass, Colored pencil and sharpie

Blue Grass, digital coloring

 

Hope you enjoy!

The Nightmare

Artemis couldn’t breathe.  She gasped each breath, clawing at her throat.  This darkness was going to swallow her whole and she would be no more than an observer.  The black mist swirled around her, whispering her name.  It tried to coax her into relaxing and let it take control.  She struggled, thrashed.

Artemis woke up by falling off the bed, her sheets wrapped around her. She breathed heavy gasps as she took in her room.  She rubbed her eyes.  This was the fourth time this month that she had the nightmare.  She rubbed her throat and looked outside.  It was a clear night with the moon and stars shining brightly.  She knew her papa would disapprove but she didn’t want to wake Kniles.  She untangled herself and put on a pair of pants and a shirt. She grabbed her hunting knife in case some wild animals were around. She crept down quietly, fearing the steps would squeak.  She got to the front door.  She quietly opened the door, stepped outside, and carefully closed the door.

Her breathe showed in the cool weather.  She decided she would take a small walk to clear her mind.  She walked around the farm until she got to the cattle.  She stopped and a sense of dread came over her.  There was someone hunched over the cow.

“Hey! Get away from that cow!” She hollered.  Artemis recoiled when the person turned around.  It was a child who was eating the cow.  She could see that it had eaten a lot of the cow.  It had black eyes and blood all over it.  She then heard a tiny voice.  “I’m lost, can you help me?”  Artemis reached for hinting knife.  She felt the familiar blade handle as she pulled it out.

The boy grinned, sharp teeth showing.  He launched himself at her.  Artemis turned to run but was too late.  The boy landed on her and held her wrists tight.  They struggled for a moment until Artemis threw him off.  She scoots backwards but fell to her elbows.  The boy began to throw himself at her but Artemis rolled to the side.  She looked around for her knife and found it a few feet away.  Artemis grabbed the knife and plunged it into his chest. He fell to the ground.  Artemis kept stabbing him over and over.  Blood spurted everywhere.  She finally stopped and gasped for breath.  She ran to a pump and tried to clean her hands blood off.  She continued to scrub and scrub.  Finally her hands were clean but she was covered in blood. 

She looked back at the body.  She had to get rid of it before dawn came.  The woods were not far off, but there was an area that recently been dug for one of their old dogs who died.  She dragged the body to the spot, and ran to get a shovel.  When she got back she began to dig into the ground.  She was stronger than most girls from her life of hunting but she was tired from the fight.  Sweat rolled down her back, soaking her clothes.  Finally, she got to the bottom or the old dog was.  “I’m sorry.” She whispered and threw the boy in.  She looked up at the sky and knew she didn’t have much time.  She began to fill the hole. She wiped her face off as she finished.  She had an hour at most before the sun arose and about 30 minutes until papa awoke.  She cleaned the dirt off.  She looked at her clothes.  She would have to hide them for now.

She tiptoed/ran to the door and crept quietly up the stairs as she heard movement from her father’s room.  She ripped off her clothes and hid them under the bed.  She quickly put her pajamas back on, and jumped in her bed.  She pulled the covers of her eyes and shut them tightly.  She silently prayed that it was all a nightmare and she would wake up with everything back to what it was.

Campfire Stories

    The companions were seated around the campfire, enjoying the last of their shared dinner of thick beef stew with savory chunks of carrots and potatoes. The lot of them were listening to Gwuryn tell a lively story about tricking his former Knight Master, for whom he had squired, into believing that, after getting horrendously drunk, the master had had relations with an elderly, half blind, and, frankly, hag-ish innkeeper. “She was a kind woman,” Gwuryn assured the party, after a withering look from Fae who did not appreciate the description Gwuryn gave the poor innkeeper. “She went right along with the joke,” explained Gwuryn as he grinned at the memory. “Why, the next morning, she even winked and slapped my master on the rump!” No one found this funnier than Borli. His guffaws were infectious, and soon most of party was chuckling at the bawdy story. Apparently the 15 year old Squire Gwuryn had gotten tired of the old man’s bragging about various sexual conquests over the years, and had taken it upon himself to have a bit of a laugh at his master’s expense. The whole thing had been a mortifying prospect for the lecherous old bastard, and following the ordeal, Gwuryn had enjoyed a bit of a reprieve from the braggart’s tales for a few months. He only needed to bring up the hag (“kind woman, though, she was,” assured Gwuryn, lest he be at the receiving end of Fae’s ire once more) and the master would shut up immediately.


By this point, Borli was so overcome with joy, he was wiping tears from his eyes with the tip of his beard. The sight alone was comical enough to get the party laughing again. That is, of course, except for Alaster, who was bright red and staring daggers at Gwuryn. The Knight of the Realm, for his part, smiled back at him innocently, but his eyes lit up as if they were sharing a private joke. Alaster started after a moment of staring, his eyes growing wide momentarily, and his scowl deepened. Straightening up, the faerie took another swig of his drink, cheeks reddening, and eyes trying to look any where other than the knight. Gwuryn won this round of silent jousting.


The only person who seemed to notice anything had transpired between the pair was Blue who smirked at the interaction. She might have enjoyed Alaster’s discomfort a little. Leaning back comfortably against the stump she had selected for her seating arrangement this evening, Blue asked the group “Who has another story?” before turning to the two half-siblings. “I know hunters tell stories among themselves while on long hunts. What do you have for us?”


Kniles and Artemis exchanged a quick glance, communicating silently. “Well,” Artemis began tentatively after a moment, “Papa has a story about the Wild Hunt.” Kniles gave a brief smile of encouragement.


“The Wild Hunt?” repeated Shadow, leaning forward with some interest. “My people know of this Hunt.” She let a hand fall gently on her sister’s head. “We are hunters, ourselves.”


Artemis grinned at the pair of wolves. “Then, you know it is every Hunter’s dream to join the Wild Hunt.” Shadow inclined her head, and Artemis went on. “It is said the Wild Hunt sweeps through the forests of the wildwood right around the autumn equinox always during the late night.” The woman’s expression took on a sinister quality, as her dark eyes reflected the firelight and she lowered her tone to barely above a whisper. “But the Wild Hunt is not like a normal hunting party.” A hushed feeling fell over the companions seated at the fire. “It is said the Wild Hunt is composed of the greatest hunters to ever step foot in the wildwoods.” Artemis paused. Nothing could be heard above the crackling of the fire, and the careful breathing of her audience. “There is one condition, of course,” she warned, “to join the Wild Hunt, you must be dead.” A shiver ran through a few of the party members, despite the warmth of the fire. Artemis cackled to herself, clearly enjoying watching her companions fearful expressions. “They say, the only warning you get is the call of an otherworldly hunting horn, before the Wild Hunt is upon you.” Her eyes were manic in the telling of the story. “If you are unlucky enough to see the hunters of the Wild Hunt, it is too late. You are the hunted.”


“Now, Papa,” came Kniles’ soft basso from beside his sister, “He swears he witnessed the Wild Hunt, nearly a year before my birth.”


Artemis grinned at her brother conspiratorially, before looking back towards her audience, “but, our fellow hunters tell him this cannot be true because once you are marked as prey by the Wild Hunt, your death is imminent. They do not believe our Papa could face down the Wild Hunt and live.”


“What they do not know is Papa had a secret weapon,” explained Kniles, with a wink at Zi who looked truly frightened for the half-siblings’ father. She knew the man, after all, and had spoken with him on multiple occasions. “He had the help of a talented seer.”


“Your mother!” blurted the sorceress elf in disbelief, before she could stop herself. The party’s gaze swung to her, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Shush!” hissed Yuna through the fingers of Zi’s hands, “you’re ruining the story!” Zi dropped her hands, and lowered her gaze before continuing in her own voice. “I’m sorry, it’s just, Elowen never spoke of her time outside of Ar.” The elf blushed furiously, and stared at her lap. “She used her gifts to help a single human! It would be a scandal if the Council of Elders knew.”


Kniles draped an arm around Zi’s shoulders, and drew her closer so he could plant a kiss on the crown of her head. “Then, we won’t tell them,” he said, quietly enough that only Zi and Artemis could hear. The elf girl nodded, perhaps a little more strongly than was appropriate, but she seemed content with the decision. Only 17 and already keeping secrets from the elvish Council. She was going to be a terrible High Sorceress. She just knew it.  Zi blushed again, but promised herself she wouldn’t speak out during the rest of the story.


“The seer knew Papa was to face the Wild Hunt,” continued Artemis after everyone had settled back down and their attention was back on the tale. “She had seen the outcome, and gave him warning and an idea for methods for survival. The hunted is not prey if it hunts back.” Artemis’ eyes flashed with a hint of excitement. “Papa set his trap. First, there was the decoy camp,” she motioned around their own camp, “very similar to this one. It had a tent and a blazing fire to keep away the cold. Papa put on a great pot of coffee, the most aromatic thing he had to help draw the dogs, ” she paused thoughtfully, glancing towards Shadow and Kael who both nodded fiercely, “and I suppose wolves of the Wild Hunt, and to muddle the scent.” Artemis peered around the circle of her friends, each gaze she met was fully enthralled in the tale. “Papa knew, because the seer had told him, that the leader of the Wild Hunt would need to be his prey if he was to live through this meeting. He climbed the sturdy tree that loomed over his decoy campsite, made certain he was well camouflaged against the sight of the Wild Hunt and settled in for the long wait.” Artemis turned her fiery gaze to the full moon cresting above the trees, and her eyes reflected the silvery sight. “Just as the sliver of the pale moon peaked in the sky, Papa heard it.” The audience startled as Kniles blew his hunting horn. He grinned sheepishly and exchanged a pleased look with his cavalier sister. They had gone through this performance before, Zi thought, realization dawning. This was something the pair of them had told on large hunting trips during their summers together. Perhaps with the help of their father.


“The call of the Wild Hunt!” Artemis exclaimed, throwing her hands out and drawing Zi from her musings. “Papa heard the horn, and he knew the Wild Hunt would soon be on his heels, and low and behold the ghostly hoard appeared. First, the hunting hounds and wolves poured into his campsite, noses to the ground, they circled the fire, but the coffee did it’s work to muddle their senses so they could not pick up his scent and give away his hiding place. Papa says the hounds were putrid looking, their skin sagging off their bodies and showing the skeletons beneath. Next, came the Huntsmen on horses, many in decaying clothes from various eras of our past. Some were full skeletons, while others were much fresher looking corpses. All held the transparent white-blue tone appearance of ghosts. Following came the Huntsmen on foot. Papa always speaks of these men with more respect, for they are the true hunters who know the secrets of stalking a weakening prey by the signs that we use to hunt. A broken branch, a bit of hair or a footprint can tell these hunters a great deal about his prey.” Artemis paused, while examining the faces around the fire, each hanging on her every word.


“But Papa was careful,” Kniles said, drawing their hungry attention to him, “he left only signs pointing towards an occupant in the empty tent, and none that would give away his location in the branches above them.”


“Papa is pretty crafty like that,” Artemis commented, nodding her approval. The gazes of the party had returned to her then. “Papa was steeling himself for his next move, when the appearance of the Huntmaster gave him pause.” At this, she nudged Kniles, who stood, leaving Zi without his warmth, and crossed the circle to the stump Blue had been lounging against.


He leapt up to stand on the stump, alarming Blue, and drew his arms out to form something like claws. Kniles was already the tallest member of their party, and towering over them on the stump, with the light of the fire flashing across his face and arms, drew quite the imposing figure. “The man, if you can call him that,” Kniles began, obviously enjoying the show, “stood no less than 8 feet tall. Unlike his fellow huntsmen, the Huntsmaster was not the transparent bluish white of a ghost, but instead he was a grizzled reality of being like in the flesh. He wore a great helmet from which the horns of deer and elk and moose stood out at strange angles. Across his chest, he wore the trophies and furs of many beasts including the severed, braided beard of a dwarf.” Kniles’ eyes flashed to Borli, who looked sickened at the thought. “Human and elf skins were among the pelts he wore proudly, but Papa swears that these were not the most terrifying prospects of the giant before him.” Kniles hopped down and looked to Artemis expectantly as if to say, I’ve done my part here.


She rolled her eyes briefly in response, before standing and allowing her brother to return to his seat with the elf girl and continuing. “The Huntsman’s face, ” Artemis started, beginning to pace around the circle, and with a lavish pause for dramatic purposes, “was that of a skeleton’s, except his left eye was this burning green orb bigger than a human fist.” She held her own fist out for comparison. “The seer told Papa this was the magic source that kept the Wild Hunts uninterrupted for these many centuries. Papa was terrified, but the seer had said what to expect, and he knew what he must do.” She paused to stand behind Alaster, and put her hands on his shoulders. He looked very uncomfortable at this interaction, and everyone could see Artemis knew it by the laughter dancing in her eyes. “Papa gripped his spear in his hand, and dove from the tree to the Huntmaster as soon as he was in range.” Her own grip tightened around the faerie’s shoulders, and Alaster let loose a very unmanly squeak. Luckily, everyone was too engrossed in the story to even make light of his reaction. The human girl went to hug his neck. “Papa landed on the giant’s shoulders, and soon clung to the Huntmaster’s neck, holding his spear almost to the monster’s glaring bright green eye.” She had her knife out, pressed to Alaster’s cheek and he didn’t dare to breathe for a few heartbeats. “‘WILD HUNT’” Artemis shouted, trying (and failing) to mimic her father’s deep tone, “‘I have your master at my mercy!’”


She released Alaster, who breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Papa did indeed have the master of the hunt at his mercy, but like the seer had warned, he wasn’t out of the wildwoods yet.” Artemis, grinning from ear to ear, plopped down next to Alaster on the ground, and hugged her knees to her chest. Alaster, still wary of the woman, straightened, but otherwise didn’t retreat. Artemis continued the story, “Papa knew the moment he released the Huntmaster, his life was forfeit, so he struck out a bargain. ‘I will have your word as a hunter,’ Papa said, ‘That if I, a mere mortal, can lodge my spear in the eye of a doe from fifty paces, you will let me leave as a fellow hunter of the Wild Hunt instead of mere prey.’ This was a practically impossible act, but Papa had the seer’s word it would be done.


“The Huntmaster considered this. ‘And if you fail?’ came the giant’s booming voice.


“‘Then, you may hunt me.’ returned Papa, but he knew he would not fail.”


Alaster snorted, drawing the crowd’s attention away from the storyteller. “Why didn’t he just smash the eye,” he scoffed, “and be done with the whole thing?”


“The seer did say it was the source of the WIld Hunt’s magic,” considered Blue, ever the practical one.


“And rob every hunter of his dream to join the Wild Hunt upon his death?” asked Artemis, seemingly in shock and looking between the pair of them. “Papa would never even consider it.”


“You have to understand what the Wild Hunt means to these humans,” explained Kniles, “It’s like this mythical goal you hope for your whole life. Papa would never want to keep anyone from this reward. He did not consider his life to be that monumental so as to trade it for that of the Wild Hunt.” Clearly the nelfkin and faerie disagreed, but they bit their tongues and allowed the story to continue.


“So,” Artemis continued, after she was certain there would be no further interruptions, “the Wild Hunt allowed Papa to travel with them until they came upon the perfect prey for his bargain. A beautiful spotted doe. The huntsmen were deadly silent, as they waited for Papa to line up his attack. None of them believed he was to be successful, and they were biding their time to turn upon him when he failed,” Artemis jerked her chin up, clearly proud of her father’s accomplishments, and went on, “but, just as the seer predicted, papa flung his spear and it was embedded right into the eye of that doe. She fell, and when Papa went to retrieve his spear from the corpse, the Huntmaster stopped him. ‘This man,’ declared the giant to the entirety of the Wild Hunt, ‘is not prey. He is huntsman.’ Then, before Papa could say anything, the lot of the Wild Hunt was moving on to their next prey.”


Zi clapped her hands at the conclusion of the story, clearly relieved with the ending. She had actually been afraid for the life of their obviously living father whom she had met on multiple occasions years after the events in the story had taken place. “Very good!” she exclaimed. The others agreed it was a good story, and began discussing among themselves how possible it was. Artemis began adamantly denying that it could possibly be a falsehood. “My papa never lies,” she declared, flipping her dagger in her hands. “I will fight you over this.”


“Did you know, Papa went back to my mother and asked her to marry him that very night?” Kniles asked Zi, who blinked at him. “She told him no, of course. She always tells him no.” Zi had never heard this before.


“I don’t blame her,” Yuna said from Zi’s mouth, with a bit of mirth lining her eyes. “Your father sounds insane.”


“I think Samael sounded brave,” Zi argued, gaining back control of her features. “I didn’t know your father ever asked the Lady Seer to wed him.”


“Oh, he still does it sometimes,” Kniles said in a voice that was attempting to be casual, “After Artemis’ mum passed, he started at it again. She will usually shut him down before he even has the chance to ask, but I once saw him surprise her.” He grinned bashfully. It was incredibly difficult to catch a seer off guard.


 “Who’s next?” asked Fae, evidently wanting to shut down the arguments among most of the companions as to the truth of the hunter tale. “Yuna!” she exclaimed after no volunteers spoke up. Her kindly eyes were on the two-souled elf. “You should tell a story. We have travelled many nights and I have never heard a tale from you.”


Zi’s face went from that of the innocent elf girl, to the harsher thinking expression of the human sharing her body. “I don’t know any good stories,” came Yuna’s voice from Zi’s lips. “My people are simple farmers.”


Zi’s expression came back to her face and she looked crestfallen. “Really?” she asked. “Your family doesn’t tell stories?”


Yuna’s features returned. “Of course we tell stories,” she said, “but nothing so grand as the tales I’ve heard from you lot. Nothing much interesting has ever happened to any of my family members. Nothing that would entertain great adventurers like you folk!”


Fae’s violet gaze met with Zi’s eyes shared with Yuna. “Tell us the kind of story your family would tell you,” the wingless faerie suggested, “it doesn’t need to be grand.”


A reassuring smile flashed across the elf-girl’s face, before the expression changed back to one of Yuna’s caution. “Okay,” came Yuna’s voice, warily. “But everyone must promise not to interrupt.” The group nodded as one, settling down to listen to the woman’s tale. “Especially you, Zi,” warned Yuna in a harsh tone. The head of the elf nodded enthusiastically. It was an odd sight, but the others had gotten used to the two women sharing one body. It could be unsettling, but for the most part they could all pick out which was talking.


“So, in the beginning,” Yuna began,  “there was only Skye and Terra.” Alaster rolled his eyes, but otherwise made no objections. It was well known among the party that Alaster did not believe in the gods. Yuna, for her part, sounded like she was rehearsing something she had memorised and was trying to get through it as quickly as possible. “They loved each other deeply,” she continued, “but were cursed to spend the eons forever apart. Skye existed as the heavens forever above his treasured Terra, the earth. The lovers could gaze at each other from ground to sky, but they were too far apart for an embrace. Terra tried to reach her beloved Skye, forming the great mountains in an attempt to caress her love.  Skye struggled to draw his cherished Terra near him with every wind he could muster, but he barely touched her surface. In those days, there was only the bare ground and no trees or grasses for him to run the fingers of the wind through.


“It was a devastating existence,” she went on, “but the lovers knew they were meant to be together so neither would give up. The pair were still very young gods, and had much to learn still about the realm and their powers in it. One day, Skye decided to take a bit of his essence and pour it down to the earth. He hadn’t expected it to work. Tearing himself in pieces was not something he had ever considered before. In his realm above the earth he cherished so much, he formed his first water and let it fall. The moment he reached his beloved in the form of a single droplet of water, he knew this to be good and the skies opened up with the first rain.


“Terra’s deepest valleys filled with water, forming the great oceans. Finally, the lovers could embrace, and from their love, the water fed the earth and grew their first children: the trees, grasses, and various plant life. And uhhh,” she stopped abruptly. “Other stuff happened, and here we are!” she ended awkwardly.


There was a long pause, before Zi broke out in a round of applause and Fae eventually joined her. The others smiled at the human trapped in the elf’s body, and told her what a good job she did telling the story. That is, except for Alaster who had the good sense to remain blessedly silent on the topic. Yuna didn’t believe them anyway, but she accepted the praise. She had rushed the story, and forgotten the ending, she explained, but gave them her thanks. Gwuryn made a crack about the gods getting it on, and had the pleasure of dodging a flying frying pan from a very displeased Artemis who did not appreciate what he was implying. Next time, she threatened, it would be her knife.


It was a pretty average evening for the defenders of the realm.

The Good(ish) Sir Knight

The brave vagrant sir knight, golden tresses flowing gently in the wind, armor flashing in the noon day sun, peered at his surroundings with a sharp hazel gaze from atop his mighty steed...or he would have if he owned a mighty steed. Really, he was standing on a rock. It was a rather large rock, and he certainly looked majestic atop it, with his hair flowing out in a halo and his steel armor shining gloriously in the light of the sun, but it was still a rock. Assuredly, the rock granted the knight the vantage point he needed to peer around the countryside. But it wasn’t a noble steed, and that ruined the image, at least to the man’s way of thinking. There were some things being a knight of the realm should have afforded you in exchange for following the Code of Chivalry to the letter. You should have shinning armor. You should have a loyal squire. You should have women fawning over you. You should have a mighty steed. The good Sir Gwuryn had none of these things. Well, except for the armor, and he worked very hard to keep it spotless. A knight aged five and twenty shouldn’t have need to shine his own armor. They had squires for that. Well, at least the wealthy knights did.

Gwuryn was a genuine Knight of the Realm. He had served as a squire to a lecherous old knight as a boy, and had undertaken the arduous seven years of training to enter the Guild as a full knight. He had taken his oaths very seriously. He had sworn to protect the peoples of the Realm, and, so help him gods, he had done just that. He went from village to village and town to town helping the people. If there was a horrifying monster he could vanquish in order to save the fair people of the land, so much the better. The people would adore him, the wenches most of all, and he could get a fat bonus on his next stipend from the Knights of the Realm Guild. Maybe after enough vanquished monsters, he could afford that stalwart steed he wanted. At least, theoretically. So far, he hadn’t met up against a single beastly foe, and this was his fourth month since taking his oaths. Mostly he ended up doing odd jobs for a village. They would house him for a week, and in exchange he would fix fences, help a shepherd shear his flock, or clean the gutters of an elderly widow’s cottage before moving on to the next village. One time he got to hunt down a particularly nasty boar that had chased a young man out of the nearby forest. That had been exciting, until Gwuryn learned the boar was a mother sow and she was only acting out of a sense of protection for her young ones. He had managed to tie her up, and safely deposited she and her drove of piglets a full league away from the village. He did this on foot, of course, and in his heavy steel armor. The Code prohibited taking off your knight armor for anything outside of leisure activities. In fact, Gwuryn did all his knightly duties in full armor. Particularly taxing in full armor was the act of cleaning widows’ gutters. And no, that wasn’t a euphemism.

Villages were always very thankful to the good Sir Knight when he visited. A Knight of the Realm is free labor to the small villages peppered throughout the many lands. They do anything from protecting villages from monsters or bandits, to completing drudgery tasks villagers either didn’t have the time for or that they held on to in the hopes of handing it off the the next vagrant knight. Gwuryn didn’t mind so much. He had sworn to serve, and he truly felt he was helping the peoples of the Realm. He just wished the gods would throw him a monster to vanquish every now and then. Or a free horse. Or an attractive wench to warm his bed. Really, anything would be great. He had been told by his superiors in the guild that as his renown spread, he would be more likely to be sent requests from larger villages with higher instances of foes to defeat.

The knight sighed, and hopped down from his vantage point on top of the not-a-horse rock. He pulled out his missive from the nearby guild outpost he managed to stop by. It had a list of towns requesting the services of any knights. None of these towns or villages had asked for him by name. It was only his fourth month in service, Gwuryn reminded himself, and he was doing fairly well for being the second son of an impoverished noble house. He would be able to afford his own steed in a few months as long as he remained frugal with his stipend. Then, he would look the part of a Knight of the Realm, and the ladies would throw themselves at him. Gwuryn grinned at the thought. Yes, ladies loved knights. Of this he was certain. His old master had seen to that bit of education when Gwuryn served as his squire in his teenage years. He whistled as he picked out the nearest town from his list. Sarton had some widows in need of gutter-cleaning. Maybe one of them would be young for once. Then Gwuryn could clean clean out her gutters before cleaning the gutters. That one was a euphemism. He let his mind wander down that line of thought into a regular fantasy of his, when a sudden scream drew him out of his musings.

Was that the scream of a maiden fair? Was she in distress? Gwuryn held tight to the hilt of his sheathed great sword, and tore off into the forest towards the direction of the scream. A Knight always aids the needy. It did not take the good Sir Knight long to find the source of the screaming.

It was a donkey. Seriously. A donkey.

The donkey’s distressed bray had sounded like the screams of a damsel in distress to Sir Gwuryn’s ears. Probably because he was distracted, and his brain lead him to believe what he wanted. A damsel would have been nice, but Gwuryn had always had a soft spot for animals. He shrugged it off, saving a donkey in distress was pretty good, and stepped forward, cooing softly to the donkey. He could see the whites around her eyes, and she was side stepping quite a bit. She was definitely spooked. He calmed her down, and had her reins in hand before the thought struck him. She looked like she was bridled for cart-pulling. Gwuryn examined her harness carefully and saw the broken wood of a cart. It looked like she had broken free of her carriage. Just then, a bellow broke through nearby. “Geeroff me things, yeh thieven’ beggar!”

The Donkey’s ears swiveled, and she pranced around uneasily. Gwuryn took a moment to tie her to a nearby branch as more angry yells erupted from nearby. “I will be but a few moments,” he promised the donkey, before drawing his greatsword and sneaking towards the bellow. Just past a bit of underbrush he could see the cart the donkey must have been pulling tipped sideways, with the source of the bellows, an angry dwarf, trapped under one side. A single human highwayman, dressed in all black with a mask drawn over his face, was distractedly going through the dwarf’s things in the cart. The dwarf, for his part, looked unharmed yet livid. He was in part attempting to push the cart off his body and additionally attempting to clobber the bandit with his small walking stick which could not quite reach. It was an interesting sight, but Gwuryn had not the time to sit and watch. He stepped out from the safety of his hiding place behind the underbrush. “You, sir,” he called to the bandit, “prepare to fight.” It was expressly forbidden to surprise ambush an enemy in the Code, and Gwuryn followed the Code to the letter. One must always allow his enemy time to prepare.

The bandit looked up, and his eyes grew wide in realization. This was a real Knight of the Realm here to save a lowly dwarf. The bandit took off running into the woods. Excellent. Gwuryn turned to the dwarf and excused himself swiftly with a simple “Back in a moment, good sir,” before chasing after the bandit. Gwuryn was surprisingly fast for someone so encumbered by the heavy armor of a Knight, but, wearing it every day, you get used to the weight. The Knight kept pace with the bandit, who attempted unsuccessfully to lose him several times. In one of his attempts, the bandit turned suddenly, and, gaze directed towards his pursuer, ran smartly into the trunk of a tree. He was flat on his back, staring up at the point of Gwuryn’s sword only a moment after. “Not the ending I would have preferred,” said the knight with a radiant smile, “but this certainly is easier.” Sir Gwuryn nudged the blade against the bandit’s neck. “Remove your weapons, or I will run you through and neither of us wants that.” The bandit did as he was asked, and in no time, Gwuryn had his first prisoner as a Knight of the Realm. It felt great! Oh, he double checked the man for weapons and confiscated a dagger from his shoe, but on a whole the bandit was rather cooperating. Having placed the weapons and stolen items into a sack, Gwuryn nudged the man at sword point, and the pair of them trudged back to the tipped cart.

“You sir,” Gwuryn called to the dwarf once he was in view, “Have you any rope?”

“O’course,” bellowed the dwarf, “It’s in me cart if tha’ rotter didn’ steal it.”

“I hope you don’t mind my securing the prisoner before I release you,” said Gwuryn cordially to the dwarf. In response, the dwarf nodded once, a look of complete understanding across his leathered face. Gwuryn liked dwarves. They were a very practical people. He made quick work of binding the prisoner so he couldn’t escape. This was one of the earliest lessons in knight training, so he was absolutely positive he had done it correctly. He was certain the man couldn’t get out of his ropes, but he checked him again for weapons just in case. When finished, he turned on the dwarf, and together the pair of them were strong enough to push the cart off of the dwarf, and set it straight. He excused himself to retrieve the donkey, leaving the dwarf. Perhaps somewhat surprised, the dwarf kept a quiet statue as he watched Gwuryn first leave, then return. Not knowing what else to do, Gwuryn started to pick up the fallen items from the cart to help, but still the dwarf stood silently watching him. It was like he was weighing his character out.

“Well,” said the dwarf after a long moment, “Let’s get to it, then.”

Gwuryn looked at him confused. “Sir?” he asked, “I am afraid I don’t understand.”

“Ye saved me life, boy, and the life of me sweet Clarabelle” explained the dwarf, gesturing towards the donkey, “I owe ye a life debt.” Gwuryn blinked for a moment, allowing that to process. What was a life debt? Was that some dwarf thing? He had no idea. Not seeing a look of acknowledgement on the knight’s face, the dwarf went on, seeming a little flustered. “It means I owe ye somethin’ fer savin’ me life, lad. It’s in the name.” Gwuryn nodded. That made sense. “I’ll be yer servant fer six years.”

“What?” Gwuryn sputtered, completely surprised.

“Fine,” exclaimed the dwarf, throwing up his hands, “Seven years! But not a day more.”

“You don’t,” Gwuryn began, but the dwarf cut him off.

“Aye, lad. I do. Me honor as a dwarf of the Nine Halls of Menelduhr commands it.”

Gwuryn nodded slowly. “Okay… but--”

“The name‘s Borli Whiteaxe, boy. What’s yers?”

“Oh, uhh, Sir Gwuryn Knight of the Realm.”

“Well, Oh Uhh Ser Gwuryn, let’s get to it then. What will ye have me do as yer first act as me master?”

Gwuryn smiled then, a realization dawning on him. “Know anything about being a squire, Borli?”

“Not a whit, Ser.”

“You will learn.” Thank you gods! Gwuryn had his squire! Things were looking up! Clarabelle brayed apprehensively, her eye locked on the tied up bandit. And a noble steed sorta! Not to mention his first enemy vanquished! Sure, it had been ridiculously easy, but nobody had to know that! “Pack up everything, and get Clara holstered to the cart, squire. We are going to take this prisoner to the guild outpost.”

Bloody Hell - Playlist for Alaster

Bloody Hell- A Playlist for Alaster

A Spotify playlist for Alaster. Slowly working on playlists for each of the six characters with magic stones. This includes Blue, Alaster, Zi, Artemis, Fae and Shadow. And because I love playlists, I will probably make them for other characters too. - Rachel


1. Stuck In The Middle With You - Steeler's Wheel
"Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you."

2. Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons
"Rate yourself and rake yourself and take all the courage you have left, wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head."

3. Alcohol - Barenaked Ladies
"I thought that alcohol was just for those with nothing else to do. I thought that drinking just to get drunk was a waste of precious booze. Now I know that there's a time and there's a place where I can choose to walk the fine line between self-control and self-abuse."

(Note: This song was once on a playlist Shey made for Alaster, but I've long since lost the CD so I stole it for this one.)

4. Come Back Down - Greg Laswell, featuring Sara Bareilles
"All of your wallowing in unbecoming."

5. Fall Apart Again - Brandi Carlile
"Self-respect goes unexpressed, I don't dream 'cause I cannot sleep. And I think the world of myself but the world doesn't think much of me."

6. Angry People - Barenaked Ladies
"You see the happy people's biggest problem is they're never feeling their worst. While the rest of us will never sleep until your happy bubbles are burst."

7. For What It's Worth - Kygo, Angus Stone
"I'm a dog when I'm on the drink. I question the fabric of everything."

8. I Forget Where We Were - Ben Howard
"Oh hey, I wasn't listening. I was stung by all of us, the blind leading up the wall. And as per usual you were skipping and laughing, eyes at the bedroom door."

9. You Don't Scare Me - Josh Pyke
"I was all out of fight. Then the dark came down but no cavalry arrived. And those ne'er-do-wells love a sacrifice. But you don't scare me."

10. Too Little, Too Late - Barenaked Ladies
"One day, this embarrassment will fade behind me. And that day I can think of things that won't remind me."

11. Feet of Clay - Josh Pyke
"Sometimes I know I must strike you as a stranger, sad and unsteady on my feet of clay."

12. Believe - Mumford & Sons
"So open up my eyes, tell I'm alive. This is never gonna go our way if I have to guess what's on your mind."

13. The Fear - Ben Howard
"I've been worrying that my time is a little unclear. I've been worrying that I'm losing the ones I hold dear."

14. Fake The Dawn - Josh Pyke
"And I can see you, in that golden sun that you love. And in my hollow, I can fake a smile but I can't fake the dawn."

Summer's End

Artemis hated the end of summer. It meant she and Papa had to return her big brother to the elves. Artemis didn’t understand why Kniles couldn’t live among their hunter community the whole year long. She didn’t understand what the elves could possibly offer her brother that their family couldn’t do better. Papa had told her they could offer him an education in the elven academy that they could never hope to match in the wildwoods with the hunters. Artemis had scoffed at this. What better education could there be than out in the wildwoods? At least the hunters accepted Kniles for who he was instead of what he was. She had seen the sneers of disdain that many of the elves viewed upon her brother. It made Artemis want to smash their pretty faces in. She was only ten, but already she was of a height with many of the more petite adult elves. Her brother, at thirteen, was close to outweighing every elf in the city. By the time he was fifteen, she wagered, he would tower over all of them like their papa did. Well, she looked up at her 6’5” father leading them through the wildwoods, maybe not exactly like Papa.

As the trio approached the border of the elf territory, Artemis could feel her dread intensifying. Her brother helped keep the darkness away. Kniles was one of the few people who could draw her away from the evil inside. When she and Kniles were on a  hunt together, Artemis almost felt normal. She could be herself around him. They could talk about anything. Her brother was understanding and didn’t belittle her over the gloom inside her like the other humans did. Together they were the most normal pair of siblings in the realm. She, with her dark braided hair and suntanned skin, and he, with his flawless elf skin, pointed elf ears and golden blond locks. The only thing marking them as siblings were their dark eyes. Often Artemis wondered if Kniles shared the darkness in his soul mirrored by their eyes, or if that was a trait that came from her mother.

“Will you meet my friend this time?” Kniles asked, drawing Artemis out of her musings. Papa had fallen behind them to check some tracks. Looking at Kniles, Artemis noted his expression held a certain mindfulness Artemis couldn’t quite place. Ah, he was placating her. She saw that now. He didn’t want another fight.

“This Zi girl,” she asked, carefully trying to sound light even with the harsh thoughts rolling around her head. “It’s strange that you spend so much time with a child, Kniles.” Kniles grinned at this statement, and Artemis smiled back despite herself. Damnit.

“She’s almost your age,” he explained. “But she seems older because of all the work she has to do. Besides, her position makes her a bit of an outcast like me.” Artemis scowled, and Kniles realized what he had said. “I didn’t mean that--” he started before Artemis cut him off.

“Oh, I know exactly what you meant,” she snapped. “The elves don’t appreciate you. They don’t like you. They tolerate you because your Mum is so important.”

“Artemis,” came the warning tone from their father behind them. This was an old argument. She turned on him, and stopped dead in the path to glare him down. Or, rather, up, as the case may be.

“You know I’m right,” Artemis declared. She whirled on Kniles. “You both know I’m right.”

“That may be,” Papa said, in his calmly disarming bass. “But this was the agreement I made with Elowen when she told me she was with child.” Papa placed a gentle hand on Artemis’ shoulder. “A hunter keeps his word,” he told her, repeating the old mantra.

“But--” she started before her father stopped her with a wave of his hand.

“Would you want your Papa to be known as a liar?”

“No sir,” Artemis said speaking to the pair of feet in her well-worn leather boots.

Papa took a knee and pulled Artemis into a hug. “You know I would never allow any harm to come to your brother with the elves,”  he murmured into her ear. She nodded into his shoulder.

“It’s just not fair,” she whispered back, fully aware of the twin streaks of tears streaming down her cheeks. Damnit.

“Kniles is part elf, sweeting,” Papa explained in that soft tone, patting her back soothingly. “Would you decide he could never see his mother or his little friend Zi again?”

“If I could keep them from hurting him,” she sobbed, “Keep him with us.”

“Ah,” said Papa, knowingly. “But that wouldn’t be fair to Kniles, would it?” Aside from the occasional sniffle, Artemis was completely silent. “He loves some of those elves, Artemis--his mother, his little girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Kniles inserted into the conversation. He had been giving them some space, but apparently he had to comment on this. Artemis rolled her eyes. She was about to argue that Kniles had talked of little else all summer, but stopped herself. Damnit. Papa was right. It wouldn’t be fair to Kniles after all. She was being selfish. She pushed herself out of the hug.

Papa chuckled. “Maybe,” he agreed if only to pacify his son. “But, maybe not.”

“Papa!” Kniles groaned, “Zi’s a little kid.”

Artemis decided to laugh with her father. “Weren’t you just saying how grown up she is?”

“Yeah, but I meant it as a friend.” Kniles was growing bright red. “She’s smart and I like to talk to her.”

“I think he likes her, Papa.”

“You might be right, little hawk,” Papa said, ruffling her hair..

Kniles became even more red faced. “Please don’t tell Mother,” he begged them. “I think I’ve been hiding it from her pretty well.”

At this, Papa burst out in a bark of laughter. “Son,” he said, straightening up after a moment. “Trust me. It is impossible to hide anything from that woman. She probably knows how your entire life will unfold. She knows about this little crush.”

“It’s not a crush,” Kniles adamantly told them. This was met with more laughter from his sister and father.

Artemis grinned at her big brother, before spinning on her heel and starting off on their journey again. “Let’s get you to Ar before sunset.” With any luck, they would arrive on time, and would get to spend the night within Elowen’s roomy guest quarters. “We wouldn’t want to keep your little girlfriend waiting,” she sang over her shoulder, much to Kniles’ embarrassment. What if anyone heard? The trio continued towards the elven city. Artemis could do this for her brother. She could face the darkness for three seasons so he could be happy. Next summer would be here in no time. Artemis just had to survive this summer’s end.

A Hunt

She stalked through the woods.  Her feet barely making a sound.  Her ears listened for any sound, any sign of her prey.  She left behind your village to hunt for the day.  Her dark eyes took everything in and analyzed it to help her find the buck she sought.  She couldn’t get the images out of her head.  It felt like she could barely breath.  If her thoughts strayed she would be gasping for air.  There was so much and no way to make it go away.  Her eyes watered and she let out a soft sob.  She breathed in deeply.  She had to find food for her family, and pray to the goods that punishment would be swift.  

Her footsteps slowed as she spotted her target.  She brought up her bow, notched the air.  She pulled back slowly, breathed in and…

"Artemis!” A familiar voice called out. 

She yelped and jumped back.  Her arrow went into the tree.  She cursed and turned around to find her half-brother Kniles. 

“Kniles…”she growled out. 

“Hey, Papa wanted…are you crying?”

Artemis wiped her eyes and sniffed.  “No.  I was hunting and you made me miss my prey.  You are lucky I didn’t stab you.”

Kniles looked the way the deer headed.  “Looks like you missed,” he said with a smirk. 

Artemis stomped her foot.  “You’re impossible.” 

Kniles walked over and rubbed her braided hair.  “Maybe next time kid.”  

Artemis’s eyes narrowed even more if it was humanly possible. 

“I am not a kid.  I am one of the best hunters in the village.”  She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Sure.” Kniles said as he grinned at her.  “A 12 year old hunter who still sleeps with her wabbit.” 

Artemis screamed in frustration and threw a rock at Kniles as he hid behind a tree. 

“What are you doing out here?  You said something about Papa?” Artemis blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. 

Kniles straightened up.  “He told me to come get you back to the village.”  His face turned very serious.  “A cow was found mutilated in the fields.” 

Artemis’s faced paled.  “A-Ar-Are you sure some wolf didn’t munch on it?”

Kniles shook his head, “No, the marks look like it was butchered with sloppily.”

Artemis drew a shaky breath in.  “I guess we better head back.” 

“Don’t worry squirt.  You can get a deer another day.”  Kniles put an arm around her shoulders as they started to walk back.  Kniles began to talk about Zi… again... but Artemis’s mind was elsewhere as she looked behind her. 

~Fin

Ways of Coping

It started out small. Blue kept a flask of whiskey on her person at all times. Taking pity on Alaster and his blistered feet, she'd offered the fairy a drink one morning. Of course, he had sneered at the evils of liquor and at first refused. Later, she offered it to him again, and this time, having spent several hours on his sore feet, he accepted.

Blue had thought nothing of it at first. A drink here and there was hardly a crime, although she would not say she had never been accused of alcoholism herself. She drank too much, she figured, but that was because she took little sips on regular occasion, just enough to take the edge off.

Unfortunately, Blue’s bad habits with drink seemed magnified in Alaster. The first time he got drunk it was because he couldn't tell that the alcohol was doing anything, so he kept asking Blue for another drink until he was a staggering, grumbling mess bringing up the rear of the group. Feeling guilty, Blue hung back with him, trying to keep the idiot walking in the right direction.

“You know, nelf,” said Alaster, and Blue resisted the urge to thump him for using the slur, “you have the most gigantic ears I think I have ever seen on a living creature. I mean, they're just huge! You must have a very hard time finding hats.”

“Don't wear hats, wear a hood,” Blue muttered, grasping the fairy’s shoulders to steer him in the right direction. “Jill, how are you this drunk? It's not even midday.”

“Midday!” Alaster exclaimed. “Is midday when you're supposed to be drunk? I never knew.”

To say that Blue found the fairy infuriating was an understatement. He was offensive and rude pretty much all of the time, and he was useless to boot. That ability of his seemed to have no practical application, since Alaster couldn't control it at all, and he couldn't fight with a weapon either. He couldn't do magic or read maps or even cook for the group. In general, Alaster was dead weight.

The problem was, Blue just felt so sorry for him. He was quite a wretched thing, what with his fancy little shoes torturing his feet and his fine clothes ruined and his whole world having been turned up on its head. It was hard not to have sympathy, even though he was an ass.

She squeezed his shoulders as though to comfort him. “I wouldn't designate it as the official starting point, Al, but people do prefer that you wait at least that long before you lose the ability to tie your own bootlaces.”

“Marvelous,” Alaster replied. “Well, I've got a head start on it then. Ahead of schedule.”

“That's one way to put it,” Blue agreed.

Ahead of them, Fae was looking back with a concerned expression. Blue had noticed her friend trying to talk to Alaster on occasion, but Alaster seemed determined to be more of a jerk to Fae than he was to anyone else.

Fae started back toward them and Blue had to suppress a groan, because she knew that in his current state of inebriation, Alaster was going to say something truly horrible. Then Blue would have to watch Fae cry, because Fae was soft-hearted and loved everyone and she wanted Alaster to like her, but that was not likely to happen. Blue did not want to watch Fae cry. Partly because Fae was too good and she didn't deserve that, and partly because Blue did not know what the fuck to do when people started crying.

When Fae reached them, Alaster cackled, “Hello, it's the witch!”

“She isn't a witch, you awful little man,” Blue admonished, wondering not for the first time why she ever bothered to try and help him. 

“Right, she's just cursed or something.” Alaster leaned back against Blue’s hands for a moment and it was all Blue could do to keep him upright until he straightened again. “How goes the quest, sister? Are we there yet?”

“Whose alcohol did he drink?” Fae asked, wrinkling her nose at the smell emanating from him. “He smells like a tavern!”

“It's my fault,” Blue admitted. “He kept asking for a drink of my whiskey. It was keeping him quiet.”

At about that moment, Alaster began to loudly sing the anthem of Vana Vale. Fae hurried to clamp a hand over his mouth, shaking her head. “Please, Alaster, you will bring an army down on us.”

If there was an army in the general vicinity, Blue felt certain that they would smell Alaster before they heard him. Her flask, which was not small, was now quite empty. She would have to suffer through this episode completely sober, or else break out her emergency stash.

“Right,” said Alaster in a stage whisper when Fae removed her hand. “I'm on the run with you people! Isn't it exciting! And from back here, I’ve got a perfect view of the elf’s arse, which is just lovely, don't you think?”

Kniles swung around, fixing Alaster with a glare that made even the drunken fairy shrink back. “I will thank you not to talk about her in such an uncouth manner.”

“Sorry, I was trying to be nice,” said Alaster. “The only bloody one of you that's ever nice to me is the nelf, and she's got no arse to speak of.”

Blue’s hands began to creep up Alaster’s shoulders to his neck.

“Fuck,” said Alaster before Blue could start strangling him, “I think I'm going to be sick.”

With that, he pitched over in the bushes on the side of the road and lost his lunch, which consisted almost entirely of whiskey.

This was Blue’s fault, though she hadn't intended for things to go like this. She bade the others to wait a moment and she went to Alaster’s side with a canteen of water. 

“Rinse your mouth out,” she told him, handing over the canteen.

He drunkenly fumbled with the cap until he got it off, looking pathetically grateful. “Thanks. I didn't mean what I said about your arse. Plenty of wonderful people have got no arse. And no breasts, you haven't any of those either.”

“Would you like to keep your teeth?” Blue asked with a smile and Alaster sobered up a bit and focused his attention on rinsing the taste of vomit out of his mouth.

Alaster sat down on the ground and put his head in his hands. With the sort of sincerity that only alcohol could facilitate, he moaned, "I'm fucking it all up, aren't I? I'm making everyone late for their quest. I don't know how any of you annoying bastards tolerate me."

"Neither do I," said Blue, just as honestly. She sat down beside him, even though they were too close to the vomit for her comfort and she could smell it.

"The ground is spinning," said Alaster. "Is it supposed to do that?"

Blue considered messing with him, but the fairy had already been sick once and Blue wanted to avoid another bout of projectile vomiting, if at all possible. "You've had a lot to drink, so I'm not surprised you're dizzy. Ain't you ever had whiskey before, ya dolt?"

The fairy shook his head. "I've had wine. We sip wine at dinner. I never tried to drink more than that."

"Well, drink is best in moderation," said Blue, patting his knee. “Keep drinking water and you will be fine. This is a good lesson for you. Now you know what happens when you don't drink responsibly.”

After all, she thought, a hangover was the best way to cure a fledgling alcoholic, and Alaster was most certainly going to have a hangover from this. Perhaps his infatuation with drink would be short-lived.

~

As it turned out, Alaster was a slow learner.

By the time their group reached a tavern, they'd all run out of liquor, and everyone knew who the culprit was. Sitting around the campfire, they'd taken to passing over Alaster when passing around a bottle, since he tended to consume most of the bottle's contents before anyone else could get a sip. Still, he begged a drink off anyone who took out a flask and most times it was easier to just give him the drink than to argue with him about it.

Blue realized that she was probably the worst about enabling Alaster's drinking problem. When he was sober, Alaster was all but impossible to tolerate. He was grumpy and rude and overall unpleasant. When he'd had a bit to drink, he was still rude, but he was almost cheerful about it. Mostly, when he was drunk, Alaster didn't look so damn miserable. So when he couldn't get anyone else to share, Blue would quietly hand him a bottle she kept in her pack.

Everyone was in need of a good drink and a hot meal. They bundled into the tavern with enthusiasm, taking up several of the empty tables and chairs. The woman who owned the tavern and her husband stared in amazement at their strange company, as everyone always did when their group happened on some small piece of civilization.

It had been several days since Alaster had gotten properly sloshed, Blue supposed. The fairy had taken to drinking more enthusiastically than any person Blue had ever known. Hangovers were not much of a problem, provided Alaster just kept drinking, and so he had endured a terrible hangover when the alcohol dried up but before that, he'd been fine. Since then, he'd been sullen, snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him. His permanent scowl was even more pronounced and everyone was giving him a wide berth.

Blue watched Alaster go up to the bar and take a small, ornate ring from his pocket. He placed it on the bar and said to the tavern owner, “Just keep the drinks coming. That's worth a small fortune, it's more than enough compensation.”

The ring probably was worth a small fortune, and this did not seem the place to squander it. Blue stuck her hand out to the tavern owner as soon as Alaster's back was turned. “Give it back, love. I've got his tab, and when I say for you to cut him off, you will do as you are told.”

Her diminutive height didn't keep her from looking scary as shit when she wanted to, and the tavern owner was quick to hand over the ring. Blue took a moment to admire it, a silver band with a sapphire stone, before slipping it into her breast pocket.

Alaster was none the wiser when he was presented with a mug of ale, which he drained in short order. It would take him longer to get drunk on ale than it did on whiskey, and Blue was kind of counting on that. Plenty others in the group would get a bit tipsy tonight and Blue didn't want to chase after more drunks than she had to this evening. For herself, she had only water. It would be best if she was sober for the evening, she felt.

Before too long, Alaster had consumed three mugs of ale and had ordered a fourth. Blue was keeping an eye on him but she couldn't cut him off too soon. She was trying to avoid a conflict with the fairy but she also didn't want to deal with his sorry drunk ass later.

Shadow leaned over, looking concerned. “I'm worried about Alaster. Perhaps you should speak to him about his drinking.”

“What am I, his keeper?” Blue wanted to know, because there was no reason that she could see why she should have to be the one who talked to the guy. If anyone should have to, it was Fae. He wasn't Blue's brother, or her responsibility.

“Well, it's just that he seems to listen to you,” said Shadow, her ears drooping. “He doesn't like the rest of us.”

Blue rolled her eyes. Of course Alaster didn't like the rest of them, but he didn't like her either! Every chance he got, he called her “nelf,” even though she'd kicked him for it a few times. Alaster did not like her, or even respect her, and Blue didn't like his attitude. He was a rich brat who deserved to have to live in misery like the rest of them.

Trouble was, it seemed like he took to misery entirely too well.

“I cain't control what he does,” Blue told Shadow with a sigh. “He's an adult. I guess we could tie him up again but I don't think that will make things any more pleasant. You wanna talk to him about his little problem, you go right ahead. I ain't losing any sleep over the fairy boy pickling his liver.”

It didn't seem pertinent to tell Shadow that she was already monitoring Alaster's alcohol consumption. If she took an interest in the idiot's well-being, that was her own business. That didn't mean it was her responsibility to look after the guy. Why was she getting stuck with this? She didn't like him any more than the rest of them did, she just felt sorry for him.

When Alaster called for a fifth mug, Blue caught the eye of the serving boy and shook her head. Thankfully, the boy obeyed and no more ale was brought to Alaster. He was drunk enough that he didn't notice for a while, too focused on listening to a bawdy tale that Gwuryn was telling. Despite how much Alaster professed to hate Gwuryn, he was actually laughing at the story, perhaps because of the alcohol's influence.

Fae and Shadow were talking quietly to each other, but they kept looking first at Alaster and then at Blue. Did they really expect Blue to deal with the drunkard all by herself? Fae, at least, should take up some of the slack. Then again, Alaster was worse to Fae than he was to any of the rest of them. Although she took a noticeable interest in her twin's welfare, she'd distanced herself more and more. Blue supposed she shouldn't be so quick to judge Fae about this, considering Fae'd likely had more than her share of verbal abuse over the years and could do without her own brother's disdain.

Wasn't like Blue had a high tolerance for verbal abuse herself, though. Being a nelfkin these days was pretty much the bottom of the barrel. When people weren't making fun of you for looking like a kid, they were looking down their noses at you for being a poor, uneducated, dirty nelf. Most everyone had misconceptions of what nelfkins were like, even her new friends, and though she was used to it, Blue didn't have to like or accept it.

A roar of laughter rose up from Gwuryn's end of the table.

“By the will of Skye,” said Kniles in astonishment. “You never did!”

“I did indeed,” said Gwuryn, “and will gladly allow our lord Skye to take credit for my achievement. I do believe he has destined me to be such a cunning thief of fair maidens' hearts and undergarments.”

Blue had no idea what the story Gwuryn was telling had been about, as she'd not been listening, wrapped up in her own thoughts. She rather thought she preferred it this way, as it did not sound as though she would approve of or believe the subject matter. If Gwuryn was a thief of maidens' hearts, Blue was High Regent of Vana Vale.

“Do you really believe in all that?” Alaster spoke up, apparently drunk enough to be chattier than usual. In fact, he was an amicable drunk, much more pleasant than he was when he was sober. “The gods and goddesses, I mean. Imaginary people in the air, deciding everything and taking tributes and all, I just don't buy it. I've never seen one, at any rate. If they exist, why don't they ever visit?”

Kniles was staring at Alaster with wide eyes, as though he'd never heard someone say such things. Even Gwuryn looked perturbed. No one ever questioned the gods. They were the gods, after all. Questioning them could only lead to misfortune. To speak like this of Lord Skye, in fact, was perhaps the most offensive thing a person could say at a dinner table.

“Why, friend Alaster, I have never before felt the need to question the gods,” said Gwuryn. “They have been kind to me, after all.”

“Yes, well,” Alaster began testily. “They haven't been especially kind to me, or most everyone else in this party, so far as I can tell. I just want to know, if they exist, why aren't they down here taking care of this fucking mess themselves?”

“Perhaps they are,” said Zi with a bright smile. “I believe the gods and goddesses guide us in our every action. We are their hands with which they bring about destiny.”

This made Alaster raise an eyebrow at her, as though nothing that had just come out of her mouth made the slightest bit of sense to him. Blue, on the other hand, thought it did make sense. She didn't spend a lot of time things about the gods. If they existed, she supposed she hoped for their favor, but she had no concrete beliefs about them. Some people did, though, and that was none of Blue's business. If Zi felt the presence of the gods in her life, then that seemed like it could only be positive for her.

“It doesn't bother you that they never talk to you?” Alaster asked. “You never hear a word out of them.”

“But they do talk to us,” Zi replied, puzzled. “Through visions and prophecies, they have brought all of us together.”

“How do you know that was the gods?” Alaster demanded. “Maybe it's some sorcerer tricking all of us. I mean, not Detraf obviously, but there are bound to be intelligent evil sorcerers in the realm. This could all be some big trap and we're walking right into it.”

It did seem rather likely to Blue that it was the gods who had brought them together. She still wasn't sure that she understood the purpose of doing so, but she did doubt that some evil sorcerer was tricking them into all of this. What would be the purpose? Besides, it comforted her to think that her father finding her pendant had been fated. It gave his life and his death a purpose. It made Blue think that she had a purpose herself.

Zi looked upset now. She was wringing her hands in distress. “I don't understand. Why wouldn't it be the gods? It is fate, and I know better than most what it is to be ruled by fate. Without it, how would we find our way in life?”

“Bloody hell, believe what you want.” Alaster rose from his seat, throwing up his hands. “All I know is, I've never had anyone guiding me through life before and I was just fine before you lot showed up going on about the gods and quests and destiny. It sounds like a crock of shit to me.”

Leaving the rest of them flabbergasted at his outburst, Alaster left the tavern in a huff.

“He can't be serious, can he?” asked Zi, still wringing her hands. “The gods are real!”

“Of course they are,” Kniles comforted her. “He is a very unhappy person and takes it out on others.”

“Oh,” said Zi, her face falling even further. “That's sad.”

“Indeed,” murmured Fae, staring after the door Alaster had left through. She did not rise to go after him, however. She looked over at Blue instead, her expression beseeching. “Would you mind checking on him? He can't defend himself, and I'm afraid he's going to get mugged out there alone.”

If this was Fae's concern, Blue really thought Fae ought to be the one who went and checked on Alaster. She knew Fae was using her as a buffer between herself and Alaster, and if she didn't like Fae so much, she thought it would make her angry. But it was hard to be angry with Fae, who was always kind and often caused herself inconvenience for the betterment of someone else.

“Suppose I can make sure he doesn't get killed,” Blue said with a sigh, pushing back from the table. She didn't mind going out for some fresh air anyway, even though it meant probably enduring verbal abuse from the party's least popular member.

It was cool outside, but not as cold as it had been recently, so Blue left down her hood. She found Alaster just around the corner of the Tavern, sitting on a bench and staring mulishly out into the darkness. Approaching with some degree of caution, Blue took her pipe and her tobacco pouch out of her coat pocket. When she sat down beside Alaster, she busied herself packing the tobacco.

“Thought I'd have a smoke,” she said to excuse her following him out. Alaster glared at her but didn't say anything, so Blue lit her pipe and took a long drag from it. She let the smoke back out through her nose, delighting in the disgusted look that crossed Alaster's face.

She held the pipe out to him and asked, “Want to try?”

Alaster snatched the pipe away from her and inhaled a lungful of smoke. He immediately began to cough and sputter, and Blue took her pipe back to save it from getting dropped and possibly broken.

“Fuck,” Alaster muttered, “that's disgusting.”

“It is,” Blue agreed, taking another drag. “You're better off if you don't smoke. Not that consuming half the liquor in the realm is a lot better for you.”

Still waving his hands to get rid of the smoke around him, Alaster scowled. “At least liquor tastes better.”

“Both burn the first time,” Blue said, shrugging her shoulders. “What was all that in there about the gods not being real?”

For a long moment, he was silent, back to staring at the darkness. At length, he said, “I just don't see why the gods would let so many bad things happen if they're real. Unless they're all dicks, which wouldn't surprise me. Don't you ever question it? Your people are treated like cattle, do you not think that is something worthy of the gods' attention? And yet they ignore your plight, as they ignored my sister and the wolves, and that poor bastard who is stuck inside the elf's head. If the gods are real and they just don't care, then I don't want to worship them anyway.”

It surprised Blue to hear him talk about her people, and about Fae and Shadow and Yuna. It was almost like he cared about them. Perhaps he was growing fond of the party after all. Blue found it was hard for her to suppress a smile at this knowledge. No one else ever talked to her about the way nelfkins were treated. It seemed odd that Alaster, out of all their company, would be the one to bring it up.

“I guess I take your point,” she agreed. “But the prophecy thing? I don't know if any mortal has magic strong enough to do all that. It seems to me that the gods are real, and they are dicks, like you said. They're having fun watching us squirm and if they could fix things, they probably wouldn't do it. I reckon it's more entertaining to them this way.”

Alaster shivered. “I'm not nearly drunk enough for this.”

“Lay off the drink for a bit,” Blue advised. She took the ring that he'd pawned from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. “That trinket there's too valuable to waste on second-rate ale. Keep it, you never know when you might need it for a nobler purpose. Your sister is worried about you, also. Perhaps you could talk to her. You know, without being an ass.”

“I can't talk to Alexandriana,” Alaster said, but he pocketed the ring. “She'll want to know how I'm feeling, and if I'm making friends, blah blah blah. She's better off if she stays away from me.”

“Don't know about that,” said Blue. “She wants to get to know you. Would it be so bad to tell her how you feel? Maybe you could start with whatever it is that's driving you to drink.”

Laughter bubbled out of Alaster and for a moment, Blue wondered what it was she'd said that was so funny. She certainly hadn't meant to be humorous. The situation was fast becoming serious, in fact, and as the person who had introduced Alaster to alcohol, she thought that she had a responsibility to talk to him about it. It wasn't a duty she was happy about but that didn't mean she could ignore it forever.

“Did you know I can fly?” Alaster asked. “When I want to, that is. All fairies can. When we want to, we can summon our wings. But the thing is, I never liked it. Flying, I mean.”

Blue did know this about fairies. As she understood it, fairies shared a well of communal magic that, when they tapped into it, allowed them to manifest wings. It was very rare to see a fairy put on their wings, so to speak, and it somehow didn't surprise Blue that Alaster didn't like to do it. He wasn't a very adventurous person.

“Don't like heights, do you?” she asked with a smirk.

“No,” Alaster muttered, “I don't. Still, I guess knowing that I could made me feel... more secure.”

“Could?” Blue repeated. “Not can? Cain't you fly anymore?”

“Apparently not. I seem to have been cut off.” The fairy stood up and commenced to pacing back and forth as he spoke. “So you see, I can't talk to my sister about this. She was cut off from fairy magic when she was born. She has never been able to fly, whether she wants to or not. We do it to criminals and undesirables. What have I done to deserve it? You lot kidnapped me in the first place, it isn't like I wanted to leave. And they've cut me off. I never paid attention before but now that my magic's gone, it's... I feel like part of me is gone. My wings are gone.”

This was not something Blue could relate to at all and she didn't quite know what to say. “Really, Fae would be a better person to talk to about it. I'll bet she feels that way too. Me, I don't know what it's like to fly, and don't want to know, if I'm being honest. I like having both feet on the ground.”

Alaster sighed and shook his head. “I've said too much. Look, don't tell the witch – I mean, don't tell my sister. I don't have the right to complain about it to her.”

“Is that why you're drinking?” Blue asked with genuine curiosity. “Your magic's gone?”

“Partially. Also, when I'm sober I hear other people's thoughts all the time. I can't control it. When I drink, it seems to dampen my abilities.”

It did seem like an inconvenient ability to possess. Telepathy was one thing when you could decide when you wanted to use it, but random telepathy that popped up with no rhyme or reason was quite another matter. Blue supposed that if she had an ability like that, considering the company she kept, she'd probably stay drunk herself.

No wonder the guy was keeping himself sauced. Jill, she really did feel sorry for the miserable creature.

“I don't want your pity.” Alaster pointed a finger at her accusingly. “And if you hadn't stuck your nose where it doesn't belong, nelf, I'd have been too drunk to hear that thought.”

Blue supposed he had a fair point but she grinned and shook her head. “Sorry, but I do pity you. My life's not easy, but it's always been like this. I was born into it, never knew any different. You were born to luxury. You never had to worry about where your next meal was coming from, you had nice clothes and money. You were secure, and now you're not. That seems like it wouldn't be an easy transition. For what it's worth, you're taking it better than I thought you would.”

He flipped her the finger. “Fuck you and the pony you rode in on.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed. “What other thoughts of mine have you been listening to?”

At this question, Alaster turned bright red and refused to meet her eyes. “Listen, I can't control what I hear. If you don't want me knowing what you think, you should keep your distance.”

“Would that help?” Blue asked.

“Well,” said Alaster, “no, not as far as I can tell. Perhaps if we were about a mile or so apart.”

“What did you hear that has you so bothered anyway?” Blue wanted to know, amused by how uncomfortable he seemed to be.

“You're not going to drop it, are you?” he asked. When she shook her head, the fairy sighed and admitted, “You think I have an adorable nose, apparently. Your words, not mine.”

Blue did vaguely remember thinking the fairy had a rather cute nose. Fae had the same nose, but somehow Alaster's nose was more interesting. “And what's wrong with that? You do have an adorable nose.”

“Men do not have adorable noses,” said Alaster, exasperated. “All those other giant freaks in there,” he waved toward the tavern, “go on about how short I am, how I look like a child, so on and so forth. You're supposed to understand, damn it. And there you go, calling my nose adorable. Do you know how emasculating that is?”

“I'm sure it's not as bad as being told you've 'no arse to speak of,'” said Blue flatly. “Okay, I will try not to think of your nose as adorable. What adjective would you prefer? Stately? Distinguished?”

Alaster looked as though he'd rather be talking about anything else. “Really, I'm not drunk enough for this. One more ale, nelfkin, that's all I ask for.”

“Oh, alright,” Blue said, taking pity on him. He was sober now at any rate, so another mug wouldn't hurt him. “One more then, but not a drop more than that.”

She put out her pipe and slipped it back into her pocket. Opening the tavern door, she gestured for Alaster to go through first, and he didn't even sneer at her. Perhaps she'd buy a bottle of whiskey for the road, she thought to herself. They all had their ways of coping, after all.

- Fin