Private Tales The Quiet In-between

[Tinúviel]

It was late, well past midnight. But even here in this sleepy little village, an outlier of Vel Anir set just north of the Falwood, there were still those who stirred at such a late hour. There always were. And while Tinúviel was indeed one of them, it was in his nature to be such a way. For these others, it was something learned. But for them, there was also something else that fuelled them to persist, to sit up and discuss the happenings going on around them.

"...and I heard since the revolution, well, everything in the city is a mess."

"But did you hear the Empire has invaded Cortos? I bet that puff of smoke will go after Vel Anir now. There's no better time..."​

"Since when were you an expert?"

After a few moments of bickering, the men who were gathered around the nearby table resumed their idle suppositions. They spoke of the unrest that had come about since the Anirian revolution, and the rise in xenophobic violence in some places, and as an elf, Tinúviel took some interest in what they were saying from time to time. But his attention largely remained on either the bowl of water set before him on the table where he sat, or out the window just beside him. Heavy rain and harsh wind pounded and rattled against it incessantly.

After a time of watching the rain, he cast his eyes down and focused on the bowl. In the water he channeled his energy, and sought - almost desperately - to summon an image. The image he sought was one of his newfound friends, Faulkin and Yvaine. He'd hoped to determine their whereabouts, having lost track of them following an altercation, but it seemed there was something barring his ability to see them. Upon the face of the water only a thick fog took shape.

With a disgruntled huff he sat back in his seat and turned his eyes out into the dark through the rattling window yet again. He sipped from his tea, and occasionally spared a glance out from beneath his hood. Before long he was the only one still awake with all the others retired to their rooms. And there he sat beneath the light of a lone torch, looking out.

 

[Monty]

Tinuviel was not the only pour soul still awake in this place. This hellhole. Monty swore again, the leatherskin cloak, supposedly water resistant, now soaked. Wasn't much to be done when it was raining this hard. Even in her ranger-appointed gear. Didn't help the cloak was half-singed.

Her horse was gone.

It was pouring.

She was limping.

It was pouring.

Her last ration bar was long gone.

It was pouring.

Fuk this...orange-flame colored eyes that matched her bright red hair narrowed as she saw the lights of a small village ahead. Thank the goddess. With boots sloshing full of water and everything water-dredged on her body, she trudged toward the lights. She hoped it was an Inn. She hoped they wouldn't shoot her. With a spirit just as heavy as her clothing, she took one last breath as she shoved open the door and stepped into the Inn.

With a flick of her hands, the wet cowl was removed from her wet self, falling to her shoulders. Head swiveled to the only other being in the room. An elf male with a cup of tea and hovering over...a bowl of water?

Damn, always the crazy ones up this late.

"Evening," the Alirian ranger tipped her chin to him. "You think it's too late for a girl to get a hot drink 'round here?"

 

[Tinúviel]

Just as he lifted his tea to his lips, his eyes were drawn to the entrance as another stepped in.

Evening, she said.

He offered a somewhat empty smile, characteristic of elves his age. He set down his tea and stood to greet her. Hand on his chest he bowed his head some, and replied, "good evening. I doubt that the bartender is..."

"...awake?"

A somewhat gruff voice came from a half open archway set behind the bar, and emerging through the half door came a somewhat disheveled man, obviously freshly roused from his rest. He approached the far side of the bar and rested his palms down upon it as he gave Tinúviel a glance before turning his attention onto Monty. He spared a careful eyeing before deeming her no different than any other patron.

"Something hot then," he turned and began preparing something, "tea like the elf then, or...?"

Tinúviel's eyebrow arched, almost amused. The bartender was a bit more imposing now, likely testy from his paltry rest. Nevertheless, he was content to serve his newest guest, and Tinúviel gestured with his hand to the seat across from him and said, "care to join me?"

---

Monty​

 

[Monty]

"Sure," pal. She eyed the bartender as closely as he eyed her. "Like the elf. If you've got a room I'll take it too." Digging in her pocket she took out some Allirian coin and slid it across the bartop. With wet clothes sticking to skin, she managed to peel of her soaking cloak and hung it up near the fireplace before turning to squelch-walk her way toward the elf.

Monty was half-elf. Hadn't been around any full-blooded elves for quite some time. In her experience they were usually a bit uppity and hoity-toity. At least this one seemed to have some manners.

Orange-eyes flickered to the chair he motioned to. It had a good vantage point of outside and she liked seats with good vantage points. Especially after what she'd just come from. She knew the beasts were close she just didn't know how close.

Hopefully she had long enough to enjoy a damn cup of hot tea.

Unshouldering her quiver and bow, she propped them up near her seat and took the offered seat, boots immediately going on another chair to prop up.

Gods it felt good to get off her feet.

"Name's Monty," digging in her pocket, she took out a damp, clove stick and wedged it between her lips. "You from around here?"

 

[Tinúviel]

After his new acquaintance was comfortably seated, he too sat again. He lowered his hood in a show of proper respect, as one of his advanced years ought to. But despite such a long breadth of time behind him, he hardly looked so aged. Indeed, his features were mature, but still without wrinkle.

"Name's Monty," she said.

He inclined his head some, replying, "I am Tinúviel, and no. I am from the eastern Falwood."

His demeanour was likely fairly characteristic for an elf. Quite proper, though, there was an air of comfort in Tinúviel. His eyes were far from peering down the length of his snout, and there was a softness on his lips that almost hinted at a smile, far from the prudish frown of the more regal.

The bartender arrived with her drink, and wordlessly departed. Keeping true to the order, he delivered what was tea that Tinúviel himself had brought for him to brew. It was likely the only tea he had in a place like this. She'd likely find it a bit bitter, with only a hint of sweetness in the after-breath. Beyond warming her, it served little other purpose than encouraging some rest.

"And what of you, Monty? I find it strange for a local to be out so late in such a storm."

---

Monty ​

 

[Monty]

Middle finger and thumb snapped together and a small flame appeared in the palm of her hand. She brought the clove-stick closer until the end glowed with embers. Taking a long drag, she released a perfect smoked-circle toward the elf.

"Tis strange, isn't it?" Orange-eyes considered him for a moment. As if she was looking for something more. As if she could peel back his layers and get a peek through the curtain. The intensity in her look faded as she took another drag and blew out another circle, smaller this time.

"Good thing I'm not a local, then, isn't it?" The ranger winked at him. "I'm a bit far from home. Tracking a beast that tore my unit apart." Again, her eyes roved his form, taking him in from feet to tits.

"Forgive me for assuming but you don't seem the monster hunting type?"

 

[Tinúviel]

A soft smile spread across his features, and he gave a gentle shake of his head saying, "no, I do not often go out of my way to cross paths with such things."

His eyes studied the clove stick as she burned it, then he studied her too in a way not dissimilar from how she'd examined him. She spoke of her unit, which he imagined was a contingent of likeminded others, now fallen. She also spoke of a beast, the cause of their demise, and her hunt for it.

Vengeance then.

But her demeanour, winking at him - she was hardly beaten.

His eyes met hers then, and he said not quite casually, "but I could aid you in your quest to find this beast, and slay it if you wish. Though..." his eyes drifted outward through pummeled window panes, "...perhaps after the storm has passed?"

He sipped from his tea.

---

Monty​

 

[Monty]

A low chuckle left her occupied lips. A raise of rusty brows. "Don't usually meet many elves that would so readily offer their aid. Let alone to me." Pulling the clove stick from her mouth, she took her own sip of tea. It was bitter but not overwhelmingly so.

She liked things bitter.

A tap of the clove stick, embers falling harmlessly to the table before she took another drag. As refreshing as it was to meet a stranger who offered their help, Monty was skeptical even though she didn't let it show on her relaxed features.

"What's in it for you?"

And it went unsaid that it would be AFTER the storm. Her clothes were only now getting a hint of dry back in them and gods it felt good.

 

[Tinúviel]

He'd have shrugged were he not so proper, but he was not quite like other elves. Aeraesarians were their own society altogether already, and he differed now even from them - greatly. Long had it been since he forsook the comfort of the collective and kept his mind to himself, and long had it been since he began his quest for the truth. In this quest, he had learned, goodness was rare enough in the world. If he could show kindness and render aid, then he would.

"Only peace in the knowledge that your quest is complete, and you are safely on your way. After a thousand years walking these lands, that is payment enough for my aid," he drank again from his tea, and finished it, "unless of course you prefer to do this alone, in which case I will not interfere."

He reached down to his side, and pulled from somewhere a pipe which he brought up onto the table. Reaching again he brought up a small metal case, and opened it. He took from within a small clump of herb, and dropped it into the pipe which he then brought to his lips. He lit it with far less magical means and took a few gentle puffs.

"How do you find the tea?"

---

Monty ​

 

[Monty]

She couldn't help the curl of her lips upward. She almost wanted to pinch herself over his words. She didn't think folk like him existed in the land anymore. Fingers came up to scratch at the old scar on her right cheek.

Then a puff of smoke to match his own.

"I'm not one to turn down free help unless I find out you're more of a liability than a benefit." Plucking the clove stick from her lips, she snuffed it out on the table. Another sip of tea as a genuine smile curled on her lips.

"I like it," she admitted easily. Kicking her feet off the table, she stood and saluted him with her mug. "See you here at first light?" She intended to use what little hours left of night there was to sleep. Gods it would feel good to lay down and for once, not on the hard ground.

 

[Tinúviel]

With little other movement, his eyes followed Monty as she began to stand, and in return of her salute he likewise gestured with his pipe. Though she was a lady, and his first inclination had been to stand with her as she started to depart, he thought perhaps his more relaxed composure would issue more respect toward one such as her. She was, in his opinion, a warrior.

"See you here at first light?"
​

At this he nodded, saying, "I will be waiting," and then he bowed his head in a way similar to how he had greeted her, only with a subtle more depth that seemed apropos for a farewell.

And indeed, when morning's light did come, there was no doubt she would find him there.

He had little intention of leaving from his place.

---

Monty ​

 

[Monty]

Monty had no problems sleeping. Especially after what she'd been through the last fortnight. And having to hoof it on-foot in the rain the last few days. Took her a bit longer than usual to rouse when the later morning light finally filtered through her small window.

Questioning her life choices once again, she finally pulled herself from bed. Dried clothes on. Boots on. Weapons slung over her shoulder and bag on her back. Dried-flaming hair pulled to one side and bound partially up she made her way down the short hall back toward the common area where she'd met Tinuviel last night.

Part of the ranger wondered if he'd really still be there of he'd just been a dream.

Ah, but there he was. Hard to miss his long, blond hair. Upright and straight, tall posture. Angular features and those ears that ended in far pointier tips than her own halfbreed ones.

"Mornin'," she grunted. A barmaid scurried by and Monty flagged her down for a black cup of coffee and looked to the elf, offering him breakfast. "Anything worth eating here?"

 

[Tinúviel]

As the night had gone on, he spent only a short while longer trying to conjure the image of his lost friends in the bowl of water. But alas, all he would find was fog. So he puffed on his pipe, and called upon other images instead. He gazed upon distant meadows, and gentle creeks. Things he had seen in his times, places of serenity that he liked to visit when he could. If he could not, then he would simply look upon it, and be comforted that it remains unchanged and untouched.

There was so little left so pristine anymore.

"Mornin'," she grunted.
​

His eyes turned up to see, and though he'd sat awake all night he looked far from drowsy, or faint. In fact of all those present, he appeared to most astir - at least as of yet. It was quite early.

"I'm not exactly sure," he sighed, his eyes drifting off toward the counter, "I... don't often eat."

No doubt though the growing crowd gathered for just that, something to eat. For so many to be willing to pay rather than cook for themselves, it was bound to be at least half decent.

He waved over a server, one of the more numerous that tended the patrons at this early hour.

---

Monty ​

 

[Monty]

She ordered them each a plate of flatcakes and some eggs. The barmaid scurried off with their order to the back. Monty propped both her elbows up on the table and clutched her coffee, nursing it as if it was a devil she was making a bargain with to keep her soul going.

"You don't need to eat?" A quizzical look over his form.

He was tall and seemed made of sturdy-cloth. The curves of his muscles were not hidden. "You'll have to excuse my questions. I'm only half-elf and grew up in Alliria. Not sure all the ways of Falwood elves other than they don't usually trust or like me around."

She said everything with a half-smirk leading him to believe though true, the words didn't bother her much.

 

[Tinúviel]

"Oh no, I do," he replied with forgiveness in his tone. He was not one to shame another for their honest ignorance, "only, not often. But I would be happy to share a meal with you."

He reached for his pipe, which had sat untended for some time now, and gathered it up and moved the bowl of water aside to make way for their imminent breakfast. Then, he took up his tea, which he must have ordered sometime before her return, and looked past it at her as he took a sip. He'd noticed her kindred features, but had opted to make no mention of it - he'd found such things could be... touchy.

That is until she brought it up, to which he replied saying, "of course. The elves of Fal'Addas and much of the western Falwood are often wary of half-elves. Many of them were employed by the Anirians in the Elven Wars, many years ago..." another drink, "my people are not quite so wounded."

---

Monty ​

 

[Monty]

She frowned.

Vel Anir was not something she liked to talk about. She'd heard rumors of how half-elves were employed. More like slave labor for the great, war nation. She'd been lucky enough not to be born anywhere near there. Near here. She'd been lucky enough that she'd had the freedom to become what she wanted to be even if judgement from humans and elves alike came her way.

Not too often but it came.

"Who are your people?" She took another sip of coffee. The barmaid came back with two plates full of flatcakes and eggs, setting down one in front of herself and one for Tinuviel.

 

[Tinúviel]

He smiled at the barmaid as she delivered their food, and then replied, "many ages ago, my people departed from the ancestral city. They traveled into the eastern Falwood and placed a city there. We named our lands Aeraesar, which means Shining Light."

He smirked as he considered the irony in that, given his peoples' current plight. His eyes cast down upon his plate, and he said with a sigh, "ahh, now this is something I have not enjoyed for many years."

"Tell me, now, what brings you this far from Alliria?"

Surely she hadn't been tracking her monster halfway across the continent.

---

Monty​

 

[Monty]

Monty didn't hesitate to dig in. She seemed to always be hungry and must've been her line of work. Always moving. Constantly pushing the boundaries of physical exertion. Her men had often joked she was a bottomless pit. Just thinking about Kriften made her frown.

"Shining Light. Sounds like an interesting city to visit," Monty commented as she shoveled more eggs into her mouth. Chewing thoughtfully. Golden eyes eventually lifted at his next question. It made her pause in her consumption.

"There was a dragon," she said slowly. "Forces following the Emperor. We managed to hold them off for a time but in the process lost nearly everyone in the Allirian Rangers." Kriften. Her unit. Most everyone. Except Keeley, herself, and one other.

"But they disappeared. Rumor has it some of their scouts were headed this way and I've been tracking them. I intend to stop them no matter the cost." Because what other cost could there be after what they'd done?

 

[Tinúviel]

He'd been just about to begin eating when she said her slow and mournful words.

"There was a dragon,"
​

Rare did mention of such a creature herald a pleasant story, and once again this proved a truth. But the others she mentioned, he could not say with any certainty that he knew of whom she spoke. There were many emperors, and many hosts of warriors.

"A dragon is no feeble foe, you are wise to accept my aid... I am sorry for your loss, Monty. We shall see them avenged. But tell me, who is the emperor you speak of?"

---

Monty ​

 

[Monty]

Was she wise?

She didn't need another death on her hands. Maybe if she'd really been wise she'd tell this elf to run as fast and wide away from her as he could get. Tell him his noble quest wasn't worth the risk he was taking on her.

That frown continued to tug her lips downward. Warm, golden eyes more thoughtful than ever. "I believe he goes by Lord Gerra. He is half-giant and a long ways away from his Empire in the West. Have you heard of him?" Rusty-brows lofted in question.

 

[Tinúviel]

"Ah, but of course... there are few who have not by now heard of the son of Menalus, reigning in the west," he began to eat, slowly and intently, "the dragon you speak of then must be Aivrid... this is no feeble foe indeed. Known well by name, he is of the fiercest of all dragons..."

He fell silent for a time, seemingly lost in his meal but it was not this that was so. His thoughts drifted instead to Yvaine and Faulkin, and how he so wished he could have continued to aid them in their quest. Yvaine was one of great importance especially, if the prophecies were to be believed... But alas, such was not the case. Instead he found that fate had placed him here - strange. He sought to be of direct aid to his kin in Sharyrdaes, but perhaps that was not to be his path. So now, instead of looking eastward to his home, he looked west.

His eyes turned up from his food, studying Monty with a somewhat inquisitive look before saying, "it is no small thing you embark on. I... would deter you, but know all too well the pain of slain kin. Still, as before, I am with you."

---

Monty ​

 

[Monty]

“It’s funny because I would equally deter you. But,” she took a breath. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful to have your company.” Monty had stared Aivrind in the eyes and lived. Spoke to the dragon and lived. Perhaps it was fate. Or that fire couldn’t hurt her. Or sheer dumb luck.

She finished her food and stood, leaving enough coin on the table to cover both their tabs. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ve been tracking a band of orcs who had pledged themselves to Gerra. They’ve gone deeper south into the Falwood.”

It was strange and did not bode well for the wood and those who lived there. While Monty couldn’t take on an entire army or dragon. She could perhaps track the splitting party off. Get some answers. And a little revenge.

 

[Tinúviel]

Tinúviel did not quite finish everything, but he had stopped eating some time before Monty had. It wasn't that there seemed to be something he didn't enjoy, only he'd sated himself to a point and was happy to keep it at that.

He stood with her, saying, "I am ready when you are," and started to leave with her, leaving with bowl of water behind with the rest of their rented wares.

Outside he noted the overcast sky, a light gray, but without a break to be seen. The Sun's place could be spotted, but only vaguely so. And the breeze was cool, but laced with comforting drafts of warmth. He drew in a deep breath before saying, "is there anything you need before we depart? If it is to Falwood we go, then I need for nothing before we leave."

In truth, at this point in his life, there were few places in Arethil he would be pressed to survive. It was simply all the more simpler in the lands of his people.

---

Monty ​

 

[Monty]

“Horses,” she said quietly, golden eyes sweeping across the small square of the village. Feet turned toward the stables. They’d cover more ground that way. And she’d lost hers in the fight against Gerra’s army. She paused and looked at him.

“Unless…you have your own and wouldnt mind riding double?”

They’d just met and she wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that. There was an intimacy to some, in riding double.

 

[Tinúviel]

Tinúviel smiled, his eyes closing over as his gaze cast down. It hadn't even been a thought for him, he'd simply been around far too long, but he had little need to procuring any steed if it was into the Falwood they went.

"I don't exactly have my own, but once we reach the forest finding ourselves some companions will be little trouble."

Though, once they did get there, he was unsure if it would be opportune for them to travel as one or on separate rides. Should there be trouble it was possible they could be separated... perhaps it would be better to travel as she suggested.

"I shouldn't take us long getting there by foot, especially with the trade-routes to Falwood so active as of late. We could tag a ride until we reach the trees..."

---

Monty ​