Runaway [Rilam]

[Wild]

Wild did not look at Rilam with disdain and fear, perhaps she stood out from the others he usually met in that way. She had no idea what had happened to him, even if she noticed his scars. She thought they looked painful and felt sorry for him because of them. She also pondered on if there was a way to patch him up to make his wounds a bit less painful.

She had no idea what went through his mind as she spoke of the famous Mirion plum brandy. Instead she studied his wounds, pondering on how he had gotten them.  "How did you get the scars?" she asked quietly. "If it's not too painful to talk about, I mean... They look painful. Do you need any bandages?"

Wild grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing her hair and body to keep herself busy as Rilam prepared himself for the bath. Since she would have to keep her eyes closed while rubbing her hair with soap, she wouldn't need to see him shedding his clothes or study his more... private parts...

Ducking her head under water to rinse out the soap again she heard him speaking in a muffled tone through the water when he doubted his socks were worth saving. When she saw how large the holes in the fabric were, she had to agree with him.

"It would be easier for me to knit you a new pair of socks..." she admitted. "But I would need knitting pins and some yarn to do that... And of course a lot of patience. But I think I can get them ready in a week..."

As she worked on scrubbing the front of her body, she heard a sploshing sound from the bathtub next to her own tub. She knew that Rilam was now in the tub and that (hopefully) it was safe to look up again. She took a moment to scrub her legs and toes, then the problem started. No matter how she twisted and turned her arms were not long enough to scrub her own back. She cursed quietly, a frustrated look in her eyes when she noticed her dilemma.

[Rilam]

Rilam's mouth thinned when the girl asked about his scars.  "So you want to hear my sob story, huh?" he asked her softly.  "How I was abused as a child and forced to walk the world alone?  In truth, most of these scars were made by myself, my folly and foolish sense of honor.  My family was the only light in my world of darkness and they were snuffed out soon enough.  Seems I have that curse - snuffing out the light."

When she offered bandages, he scoffed.  "What would a strip of fabric do for me now?" he replied.  "These wounds closed long ago but the gnarled reminders will always be fresh."

Rilam glanced over at Wild when she said that she would need knitting pins and yarn to make new socks.  "I am sure the market has some if you dare to venture down there." 

Sinking low into his tub, the elf closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting back in time.  He could see the smiling face of a woman, a bundle of cloth in her arms.  Firelight lit her face, showing him every gleam in her eyes.  Her lips parted in a smile and she began to hum.  The elf felt joy rise in his heart as the image faded.  Soon, he was also humming the tune, drumming his fingers on the edge of his tub to the tune. 

[[Sorry it's short but I have to get to work.]] 

[Wild]

Wild looked over at Rilam when he asked if she wanted to hear his sob story. "Sure, why not?" she replied calmly. "It's not like I am super busy and have anything else to do..." She listened to the story of how he was abused as a child.

"You too, hmmm?" she sighed. "It seems like there are many of us. We really should start a club one day. I have scars too, but they were made by the Master of the orphanage when I refused to steal for him. When beating me up didn't work anymore he started threatening with killing my friends among the orphans instead..."

She lowered her gaze and started scrubbing between her toes. "I'm sorry for the loss of your family though. I know how it feels to be alone in the world. I lost my entire family when a troop of orcs attacked my village when I was 5. Seems like we both are cursed."

She shrugged when he asked what a strip of fabric would to for him now. "I don't know," she admitted. "Perhaps remind you that there are still friendliness in the world? People who care enough to offer to put bandages on your injuries even if you try to chew their heads off?"

She shuddered by the thought of going to the market of Zantaric after darkness. It was not a safe place in daylight. She knew it would be thousand times worse in the night. "I'm trying to not get myself killed," she replied. "I'm afraid you'll have to do without socks until tomorrow when it is safe to travel. Once we get out of Zantaric it will be better to go shopping. This place is the most hostile place I have ever seen..."

She was working on washing her long hair when she heard Rilam humming in his bathtub. Throwing a quick glance over at his face, she was surprised to see him smile even with his eyes closed. So far she had not seen him smile, at least not like this. She assumed his mind was with someone who meant a great deal to him, just like her mind often traveled to be with her parents.

(No worries, I had to make it brief today myself. I have school tomorrow)

[Rilam]

The elf was surprised when his sarcastic remarks were meet with curiosity by the girl.  He had to admit that the way she put up with his twisted sense of humor was unique and made her easier to be around.  Not that he wanted to be around her more than he had to . . . it was just a nice change to have company.

He laughed when she mentioned forming a club for children like them.  "What would you call it?" he asked her. 

When she answered his quip about bandages, he smiled.  "You seem like somebody that can put up with me," he told her.  "Seems like this Master of yours was a piece of work to get you adjusted to my behavior.  Half drunk and foul mouthed . . . and that's on a good day.  Why do you want to show me any kind of kindness?"

He shrugged when she mentioned the socks having to wait.  "I've gone without worse," he said.  He paused when she mentioned leaving the city.  "Where is your village, this Mir place?  I don't think I have ever seen it on a map before."

Resting in the tub, Rilam could hear the echo of his own humming and opened his eyes.  He had the feeling he was being watched and glanced over at Wild.  The elf's eyes were on him, watching quietly as she washed a lock of her hair with the suds.  He could feel heat rising into his face, but he also remembered the temperature of the water he was sitting in.  Slipping his hands back into the water, he began washing off the weeks of dirt that had contaminated his skin.  When he was done, the crystal clear water look more like chocolate soup.  He was glad that there were still enough bubbles to hide the sight from Wild.

[Wild]

If Wild had expected Rilam to get upset with her remarks, she was greatly surprised when the man only laughed at her response instead of getting angry. His crude sense of humor would make him easier to be around for the time they traveled together.

When he asked what she would call a club for children like them she tilted her head and mused for a moment. "The Dandelion Club," she finally replied. "Dandelions are strong. No matter how hard you try to get rid of them they always seem to survive, popping up like toadstools everywhere. You can cut one of us down today and you'll have ten more of us standing on your lawn tomorrow."

Wild smiled when Rilam said she seemed like somebody that could put up with him, asking why she wanted to show him any kind of kindness.

"I think everyone deserve a second chance in life," she said. "Not everyone can help their situation or the way they live. A cruel fate may have dropped them at the bottom of life. Perhaps a bit of kindness and a helping hand at the right moment may help turning the wheels around - and maybe even change a life for the better or save it from further destruction. Sometimes all you need is someone to believe in you."

She thought for a moment when he asked where her former village was. "I am not certain anymore," she said. "I was only a child during the attack, running away in terror and paying little attention to where we were running. I do have my means to find back though. My parents left me a medallion and said it would guide me back home when the time was right."

She smiled when Rilam spoke of not having seen Mir on a map before. "Mir was only a very tiny  village I'm afraid," she laughed. "The only way we could put Mir on a map was to bribe the man drawing the map."

Noticing Rilam's face flushing when he noticed she had heard him humming, Wild looked pleadingly up at him. "Please don't stop," she pleaded. "I haven't heard that song for ages. My father used to sing it for me when I was a baby. I would have sung with you, but I don't remember the words anymore..."

To try not embarrass him any further, she continued washing the dirt off her own body. When she was done the water looked only slightly lighter than Rilam's bath water. Wild grinned embarrassed when she noticed, hoping that Rilam couldn't see it through the bubbles of soap still left in the tub.

"Well, I guess I am as clean as I can be..." she said at last. Using her long, dark hair as a cover for her modesty she reached towards the towel to dry herself off.

[Rilam]

Hearing the name she had chosen for their "orphan club", Rilam shook his head.  "Sounds like a group of little girls running around, picking flowers," he commented.  "Good luck getting me to put flowers in my hair."

It was intriguing to Rilam that the girl spoke of second chances.  He had wanted to believe that he had found his second chance with his wife, but that was snatched away before he could realize it was there.  Perhaps he wasn't one of the worthy ones, the lucky that got a happy ending.

The elf was not fazed by the challenge of finding Mir.  In fact, he loved the challenge of the unknown.  It was one of the few things that made his life enjoyable (though he would use the word loosely of late).  Anything to keep him from the horrors of his past and give him some sense of a future . . . anything to give him a reason to live another day.

"You know the song?" he asked her, too stunned to remember his embarrassment.  "My wife sang the lullaby to our child each night.  I thought it was one that she made on her own."

Leaning back in the tub, he rested his head on cool edge of the tub.  He could feel the tightness in his throat, the words bringing back memories of all the times he had heard it.  He began to sing softly, barely noticeable, but each word held a tribute to her:

hön'marën kena-uva kala
indönya ullumeá
nör'ande sëra mi lorien
îm'eri ratö naya

larya nîn mëlissè
le sinte îma sinomë
ána sama lemî oloorë
le ar'uunèr ana kaurë

uur'anor wannëa
isilme va'arya
telume siila tere
na'are utumno wanya

erüma, helkàda
raanè ressè
lörna à'kuilä
Vàrna mi'olör
türma ei ràumo
Sinomë

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As he finished singing, he glanced over at the elf, wondering what her reaction would be.  He had gone a long time without mentioning his past to anyone and he had never been so vulnerable with anyone than his family.  How would she react -- they had only met today after all?

[Wild]

[A beautiful song! Thanks for sharing! *Bookmarks link* ]

Wild grinned by the thought of Rilam putting flowers in his hair. "But you would look so cuuute with flowers in your hair," she teased gently, mirth showing in her eyes. "Especially with the little pink ones - what are they called again... daffodils?"

After being on the run from the orphanage for quite a while she was glad for company. Perhaps Rilam saw himself as unlucky, but Wild had been through enough misery to know that nothing lasted forever, not even bad times. There would always be an end, and she firmly believed that a new and exciting adventure would be waiting just around the next corner. Or the next after that.

Being as young as she was, she had not yet needed reasons for living. She enjoyed every moment of life, of being alive, and she bubbled with joy and lust of life even when life slapped her across the face. She laughed in pure joy of existing, and lived every moment to the fullest. If she did not manage to find Mir, she would still enjoy the travel and seeing the places she would find on the journey - meeting new people and perhaps find something interesting along the way.

She nodded when Rilam asked her if she knew the sung he had been humming. "Yes, I often heard it in my village during my childhood," she told him. "It is an old song. Is it possible that your wife comes from my village? What was her name? Perhaps I knew her, or some of her family?"

She listened when the man song it, the words bringing dear memories to her mind. The memories painted images of a time that was dead - of a tired little Wild at rest in her father's lap while he sang the lullaby in his deep voice. She remembered his warm hands caressing her hair, while her mother sat nearby, making her a new dress to wear, or perhaps knitting on a pair of warm socks.

After he finished singing, the images faded, and Wild looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I thought I would never hear this song again," she said quietly. "Thank you for singing it to me. You have a beautiful singing voice, almost as deep as my father's."

[Rilam]

Rilam rolled his eyes when Wild mentioned the flowers.  "Perhaps if your family's brandy is as powerful as you claim," he chuckled as he took a sip of his drink.  He hoped that the elf girl was truthful about the taste of the Mirion drink - while he would not admit it to the girl, the taste was diminishing with each touch to his lips.

The elf listened as Wild explained how she knew the song he had hummed.  When the girl asked if his wife was from her village, Rilam lowered his gaze.  "My wife would never speak of her past.  I meet her in a tavern on the road; she worked as a maid there.  All I know is that she left her village when she was young, just after her 15th summer.  She spoke of unrest and danger, but that all that she would tell me.  I knew this was a common occurrence in the land so I never pressed her for details."  He paused, glancing down at his hands so she could not see the wetness in his eyes.  "If you know the song then she must have come from your land," he finished softly.

Looking at the girl, he saw the tears in her eyes as she thanked him for singing.  He blushed when she said that his voice was beautiful, knowing that he was not the bard-type.  "It seems we both have a reason to find Mir now," he said.  "Perhaps if I find out more of my wife's past, I can learn why she was taken from me.  If you need a sword to fight for you on the road, I am for hire."

He noticed her reach for a towel, a clear signal that she was done bathing.  Quickly looking away, he waited until he heard her leave the tub, the sloshing of the water echoing the quick pace of his heart.  The elf was confused - since the passing of his wife he had encountered many women eager to share his bed, even to the point of revealing themselves before payment.  Yet, with this girl, he could not bare to dishonor her by peeking.  Was it her youth?  She could barely be more than a child, though the look of elves were deceiving.  Was it her innocence . . . or was it the fact that he knew her past with her Master and did not want to become the next man in that horrible memory. 

[Wild]

Wild smiled when Rilam rolled his eyes at the mentioning of flowers. Her father had also hated when she put flowers in his hair, thus she had enjoyed teasing him with numerous flower decorations placed in his hair and beard. Luckily her father loved her too much to be angered by her mischief.

"Perhaps you will find out about the brandy yourself one day," she smiled. "If I can get the things I need to make it, I will be more than happy to make you a few bottles. You deserve it for saving me from the ill-mannered oafs in that inn."

The elf girl listened when Rilam spoke of his wife, who had left her village shortly after her 15th summer. The news about unrest and danger seemed strangely familiar, and even if Wild had not seen her village in 13 years she still remembered the name of an elf that often had caused her father to worry.

"Tell me," she said. "Did your wife ever mention someone named Morg? A Light elf of a most treacherous nature? My father often spoke of him to my mother when they thought I was asleep. Clearly they were worried about his powers of Black Magic long before the attack of my village. As for the song, I often heard it sung when I was a small child... I also have a vague memory of a young girl who used to look after me when my parents and my big brother were busy. She was older than I, perhaps in her teens. She was very pretty. I remember I heard this song from her as well. What did your wife look like? Perhaps it was the same girl I remember?"

She smiled when Rilam spoke of having a reason to find Mir and learning why she was taken from him. "I will gladly accept your offer of a sword to fight for me on the road," she said. "I have a feeling I may need it. I may caution you though - the last thing I remember from running away from Mir is a village in flames and dead people everywhere. There may not be much left of the Mir I remember from my childhood - maybe nothing but ashes and charred ruins. Still, if we are lucky, we may find someone who has survived - if not in Mir then within our allied villages. I know where to search if we only can find Mir."

As she rose from the bathtub she noticed Rilam looking away, and she was grateful for his discretion. She quickly draped her body in the towel and started drying her hair and body before pulling her clothes back on. She did not have anything to change into yet - but perhaps she would be able to buy some clothes the next time she found a shop. But first she had to leave Zantaric. Master would not be happy if he found her here.

[Rilam]

Rilam listened as Wild inquired about an elf named Morg.  While she had never opened a conversation about her past, he had heard her whispers of fear as she slept.  "She would wake some nights in terror, crying out for mercy.  I-I think that was a name she used before.  When I would ask her for more the following day, she would always refuse."

When Wild asked about what his wife looked like, the elf smiled and leaned back into his tub.  "To describe her would be to ask me to speak of the most beautiful thing on earth.  Eyes like starlight, twinkling with a hint of golden sun.  Her smile was soft and warm, yet she had a fierce tongue and brilliant wit.  Long brown hair that shimmered like river water under the midday sun . . ." 

He paused, his voice catching as he saw her radiant face before him.  He had often wondered how such a gem had fallen in love with him, pledging every day of their lives to make her fall in love with him again.  Perhaps the Gods thought that he needed a reason to be a better man, a woman to fight for?  Yet, why would they take her away when he needed her most . . . why would they cause him to loose his ground and tumble back into the darkness he had fought against since childhood?

Opening his eyes, he felt the mist of tears on his cheeks.  Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he cleared his throat.  He waited for Wild to speak again, not wanting to look at her out of shame for his weakness.  He listened as she told him about her village and her final memories.  It was a long shot but it was the only lead they had.

As he waited for Wild to finish dressing, he hummed the song to himself softly.  I will find your village, my love, he said to himself.  If the murderous dogs that took you are still living, I will make sure to meet them and give them their final breath!

The final rustles of fabric told him it was safe to look at the elf girl and he saw her leaving the room.  Such an innocent, he mused as he stood up and dried himself.  She has seen the cruelties of the world yet still believes in the good of people.  I hope I can bring her the closure she seeks.

Dressing, he left the bathing room and stepped into the hallway.  The building was quiet, far too quiet for an inn.  Perhaps they did not get much business this time of day.  Glancing down at Wild's room, he listened for sounds.  Nothing - just as it should be.  Satisfied, he turned to the front of the inn, wanting to learn more from the innkeeper about the area.

[Wild]

Wild listened as she heard Rilam speaking of his wife, how she woke up in terror crying out for mercy. Sadness was in Wild's eyes when she heard of the cries for mercy. There had been no mercy among the enemies who attacked her village...

"I fear your wife is from my village then," she said quietly. "In the years after the attack I have had good time to think, and I have reasons to believe that Morg was a traitor and the one behind the attack towards my village. You see, our village was surrounded by thick wooden lumber walls, or rather tall fences. The gate to our city could only be opened from inside by someone who knew the code. And I remember seeing Morg coming out of the guards house where the code was being kept the day before the attack happened. And Morg had nothing to do with the guarding of our village, so he had no reason to be in the guards house."

She smiled when she heard Rilam's description of his wife. It was good to hear someone loving his wife so deeply even if she had been gone for so long. Her parents had always loved each other the same way - and after Zantaric where people seemed to be less caring about their wedding vows it felt good to witness true love again.

"Hmmmm.... I think we did have a girl in our village by that description," she smiled. "I was only around 3 or 4 when she ran away, but I remember her. Her name was Carilyn if I remember correctly. She was the one who used to look after me when my parents or my big brother were too busy to take me with them. She was so kind... I always wondered what had become of her after she left..."

Looking over at Rilam she discovered the mist of tears on his cheeks as he spoke of his wife. "I am sorry if my questions opened painful memories for you," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you, not after all you have done for me."

After getting dressed, she stepped out of the bathroom, gently closing the door behind her to give him privacy to get out of the tub when he was ready. She waited for him outside, and smiled when she saw him stepping into the hallway.

"Are you hungry?" she asked gently. "The innkeeper said we could have a meal in the dinning hall, unless we wanted to eat in our rooms. Which would you prefer?"

The innkeeper was working with some papers behind the reception desk of his little  inn, but looked up when he saw that his two guests had returned after their bath.

"Can I help you, my Lordship?" he asked friendly.

[Rilam]

It was a bittersweet feeling to find out that his wife came from Mir.  He was glad to learn more about her past yet it made him wish to turn back time.  His Carilyn had done so much to save him from his nightmares, but what had he done for her?  If he had known about her village when they first met, would that made a difference?  Could he have done anything to help?

His fingers clenched around the tub lip as Wild spoke her name, conformation that the elf girls had known one another.  He felt a glow of warmth in his heart when she spoke of Carilyn in such a kind way.  "I wish I had known her before, when she lived in your village," he whispered.  "She had such life and love, yet her nights were filled with terror and tears.  It seemed that as the sun went down, she would change, become timid and cold.  I would try to help her, filling her room with nice things, yet  it never seemed to cleanse her of the demons.  Even when our child came . . . the nights would be filled with the screams of two lonely souls."

Joining the elf girl in the hallway, Rilam nodded at her offer of a meal.  "I think you have been locked away for too long," he told her.  "I do not think anyone would bother us here."

Following her down to the entry way, he spotted the innkeeper doing his books.  "We wanted to know when dinner would be ready?" he asked. 

[Wild]

Wild smiled when she understood that Rilam's wife was the same as the young girl who had looked after her when she was little. Carilyn had always been so kind to her - it was good to think of that she could to something in return - by letting her husband know about the reason for her nightmares and her anxiety. Wild had only been a small child when it happened, but as she become of age she had understood the threat towards Carilyn and her reasons for leaving the village.

"Carilyn was a very sweet and loving girl," she confirmed. I knew her from I was born until I was 3 or 4 years old, and in those years she was always so sweet and loving, caring to everyone. I believe she had a good home with loving parents, and her siblings were always so kind. But sadly it was her beauty which forced her to leave our village..."

She paused for a moment, trying to remember the exact words she had heard in whispered conversations in her early childhood. Visions started filling her mind. She was a child again, sitting under the table in where the villagers ate their common meals, hearing the women talking.

"They said that Morg had demanded to have Carilyn as his bride," she said quietly. "It was horrible - she was only 13, too young to marry. Morg was a powerful man already then, living in a fortress in the edge of the large forest surrounding our village. He thought himself too fine to live with the rest of us, even if the village was good enough for my father who was a Chieftain.
Morg was a horrible man. He was used to take what he wanted, and when he was done he threw the girls away, used and broken. But Carilyn seemed to be special for him, for he demanded to marry her. She didn't want to of course, and her parents were not willing to leave their daughter to such a brute.

So one morning we heard that Carilyn had escaped. Morg was furious, swearing to take revenge. He sent his troops to search for her, high and low, and he burned down the cottage of her family as a punishment for their disobedience. My parents took them in when they were homeless, allowing them to live with us until a new cottage could be built.

Her family was grateful for being allowed to stay with us, but they always seemed frightful of what could have become of their daughter. They had to send her away, I understood from the whispered conversations, but it was never stated where they sent her. They were afraid Morg could harm her through his Black Magic."

She looked up at Rilam with tears in her eyes. "I often cried after she left," she admitted. "I felt it was my fault that she had to leave. If I had not played on the meadows that day Morg would not have seen us - seen her... And she would have been safe... I'm sorry..."

Wiping away a tear from her eyes she looked up at Rilam again. "What happened to her after she left our village?" she asked. "I have often wondered. I know that she was your wife, but I would love to  hear more about her life if it is not too painful for you to speak of..."

She smiled when she heard that Carilyn had a child. "I bet she was a wonderful mother," she smiled. "I have only happy memories from when she helped taking care of me... Did you have a boy or a girl? What was the name of the baby?"

She smiled when Rilam spoke of her being locked away for too long. It was correct, as she always had to keep hidden from Master's prying eyes - and before that she was locked up in his dungeons every time she misbehaved - which was rather often.

The innkeeper smiled friendly when his guests asked when dinner would be ready. "Ah, you are in luck, my friends," he replied. "My wife announced only 5 minutes ago that the dinner was prepared. I think we'll have roast leg of lamb with onions and thyme tonight." He stood up, leading the way to the dining room and opening the door to them. "As you can see we do not have many guests tonight," he said. "I fear the Weather Gods scare away most of our customers. Feel free to be seated where you like. My wife will serve your dinner in a moment. Would you like something to drink?"

Wild followed the innkeeper into the dining room, looking around. It was a nice and clean room, with tablecloths and vases of flowers on the tables and a nice crackling fireplace to keep the guests warm on cold days.

"Do you wish to sit near the windows so we can look at the street life?" she asked. "Or do you prefer a quiet corner of the room?"

[Rilam]

Rilam listened with tense muscles as Wild spoke of his wife's history in the village.  When he learned that she was to marry Morg, clearly a man of evil intent, he snarled in rage.  To picture his sweet bride in the arms of that creature . . . his hands moving over her soft flesh, unfeeling to her tears, her pleads of freedom . . .

That was the source of her demons, he realized.  She was remembering his presence in the village and the fate she would have had if she had not escaped.  Perhaps it was more than destiny that we found each other that day?

"On the day we met," he began softly, "I was travelling through town after completing a job.  I stopped at the tavern for a drink, thinking nothing special of the day.  When I entered I heard a crash of plates and cries of a woman in harsh elvish.  Oh, it was not a nice thing that was said but the voice that said it was sweeter than any I had heard before.  I saw a woman standing in the corner of the room," he continued, gesturing to the corner of the bathhouse as if they were standing there.  "She was looming over a man, a sharp knife in her hands and a light in her eyes.  Clearly the man had gotten to fresh with the barmaid and she was teaching him a lesson.  Without thinking, I rushed over to them and took the arm that held the knife.  As the woman turned to me, I could see so much history in her face.  I could see her struggles, her fear, her regret, her wish for love.  She did not speak a word, but her eyes showed her soul.  There was a moment of connect, one that cannot be explained in words.  It was as if the Gods intended for this moment, that all our lives had lead to this meeting.

"I remember her as I left that day, sweeping the floor as gracefully as dancing.  While I was never a man to return to the same place more than once, I found myself returning to that tavern . . . returning for her."  He smiled and chuckled to himself.  "It took some time before I could get her to marry me, but she told me that I had become hers that first moment.  I just needed to prove it to the rest of the world."

The man fell silent when Wild asked about his child.  "I am sorry," he answered.  "I cannot speak of it, not yet.  I had so many memories with my wife but with my child . . . they are all gone.  I do not know if the Gods brought this as my punishment, but I cannot even remember a name.  All I can remember are cries in the night, cries that I could never soften."

Entering the dinning area, Rilam was glad to see it so quiet.  He had had enough of crowded inns for the night and wanted some time to think about what they had learned in the bathing room.  "I think it would be best to stay out of sight of the road," he whispered to Wild.  "We don't know if your "friends" from the tavern have allies in this town."

[Wild]

Wild watched Rilam's muscles tensing as she spoke of his wife's history in the village. Even if she had never been married herself, she could understand why Rilam would feel rage towards a man who desired his bride. She also remembered enough of the girl to know how unwilling she had been to belong to the man they called Morg.

She listened when Rilam spoke of how he had met his wife, smiling when she heard how the girl had tried to defend herself against the male customer at the inn where she was working.
"That sounds like the young girl who used to look after me," she confirmed with a smile. "She was always a fiery one when she protected me from those who wished me harm. She was skilled with her dagger already then. I am glad you came in time to save her from the man who wished to hurt her."

She smiled when Rilam spoke of returning to the inn because of the young woman. "I can understand why you fell in love with her," she said. "From what I can remember she was very beautiful, and she was always so kind to me even if I was only a very small child when she ran away."

She fell quiet for a moment when Rilam spoke of his wife and child being all gone. She had seen a child in the orphanage with a strong resemblance to a face she remembered from the past, but she had not been able to draw any connections until Rilam told his story.

"Rilam, are you sure your child is gone?" she asked quietly. "In the orphanage here in Zantaric there is a child who arrived already as a baby. When I first saw him I thought I had seen the face before, but I couldn't draw any connections until now... I think he has a certain family resemblance to your wife..."

In the dinning area Wild nodded when Rilam suggested staying out of sight of the road. "Yes, Master has connections everywhere it seems," she replied. "We must be careful..."

[Rilam]

Rilam smiled when Wild called his wife "fiery".  She had always been able to take care of herself but had let him "rescue her" on occasion so that he felt needed.  He had known what she was doing, of course, but he had always appreciated the thoughtfulness for his male ego.

But I couldn't save her in the end, he reminded himself.  I couldn't do anything as they cut her down, leaving me alone again. He flinched, remembering that night -- lying in the dirt as blood dripped from his face, his wife's body just out of his reach, his frantic screams of help.  She never answered him, he never heard her sweet voice again.  Only the echos of the night responded.

The elf glanced at her as she asked about his child.  His eyes sparkled with sorrow as she mentioned the baby at the orphanage.  "It couldn't be," he told her, his voice soft.  "I saw the soldiers take him into the darkness, I hear his cries . . . How could he still be alive?  Why would they keep him alive?"

When Wild mentioned that the baby had resembled his wife, Rilam's fingers clenched around the rim of his tub.  "How long ago was this?" he asked her, his excitement and nervousness clashing against each other like sparing partners. 

Pressed against the side of his tub as he waited for an answer, the elf didn't notice the side of tub lowering to the floor, water spilling out on the ground.  Before he could react, the tub turned over, leaving him sitting on the ground in a pool of water.  Thankfully the tub did not land on the back of his head, hovering behind him like a open cave.  A few colorful words in elvish crossed his lips as he rubbed his lower back, sure that there would be bruises on his bottom before too long.

Glancing up at Wild, he blushed and quickly drew up his legs so she could not see his intimate parts.  He wondered how she would react to his offer now that he had shown how clumsy he could be.

In the dinning room, Rilam watched the room carefully as Wild took her seat.  Each shadow could be hiding a mercenary, each patron a risk.  He positioned his chair so that he could see the room entirely, making sure there was no way for someone to sneak up on him.  As the drinks arrived, he clutched his mug with both hands, wanting something to steady them against. 

Orphanages, murders, lost children . . .  My night is DEFINITELY not going as planned.

[Wild]

Seeing the pain in Rilam's eyes as he thought of his wife, Wild instinctively knew that she should not ask him how she died. Perhaps her own life as an orphan made her understand the pain of his loss. If he one day wanted to speak of his wife, Wild would be here to listen. After all, he had offered to be a strong sword for her when she tried to find her way back to Mir.

Wild's eyes widened when he spoke of soldiers taking the baby into the darkness. "Soldiers?" she asked. "The baby at the orphanage was delivered by a soldier! It was clear that the man had snuck to the orphanage without the knowledge of his commander. The order had been to kill the child, and from eavesdropping to the conversation I found out that the soldier couldn't bring himself to kill a baby since he had recently become a  father himself. So he told his Commander that the child was dead and brought the baby to us..."

She mused for a while when Rilam asked how long ago this was. She had been so young then, but old enough to remember. "It must have been 8 or 9 years ago now," she said. "The boy is among the group of children I tried to protect from Master's clutches, supporting them with what I could steal for them. He is a clever little boy, but I fear for his safety as he has started to understand Master's crimes and is threatening to expose him. Master has killed for less..."

She had turned away to think as he asked about the child, but turned back when she heard a splosh of water behind her. She saw the tub turned over, lots of water and Rilam sitting on the ground. "Oh dear," she said. "I am sorry if I said something that upset you. Are you alright?"

She kept her gaze away from his intimate parts when she spoke to him. She wished to spare them both of embarrassment. Looking away she reached a hand out towards him, offering him support to get back up on his legs if he needed help.

In the dinning room the innkeepers wife served their meal with a friendly smile, and offered them something to drink as well. The food was simple, but it tasted well, and Wild noticed that the room was cleaner than many other inns she had been at.

"This seems to be an eventful evening," Wild told Rilam with an apologetic smile. "I am sorry to pull you into all of this."

[Rilam]

Rilam listened as Wild described the circumstances of how the baby came to the orphanage.  He was glad that the child had been spared by a kind soldier (those still existed apparently), yet it was overcome with guilt and anger.  Not for the men, but himself.  His child, if the story was true, was alive!  Not only alive but stuck in a squalor of filth and poverty, the very life that the elf had tried to avoid for his family.  If any of what Wild had told him of the orphanage was true, the mistreatment and so forth, he had let his only child be subjected to that for the last eight years!  He had allowed his innocent child to be tortured and gods knew what else . . . all while he drunk away his pain in the taverns of Le'raana.  How could he face his child again, knowing that he could have prevented it all . . .

Sitting on the floor after his fall, Rilam let out a slow chuckle.  He was embarrassed and bruised but it was still a comical moment.  He noticed how Wild looked away, glad she did not have to see him in his bare skin.  He hesitated to take her hand, realizing at that moment that he had never touched her like that before.  What would it feel like -- what would she think of it?

Reaching out, he grasped her palm just enough to hoist himself into a crouch before releasing her.  While she was still turned away, he scuttled behind the overturned tub and gather up his clothes around his waist.  Thankfully his new set had not been ruined in the waterfall he had created.  Quickly drying himself off, he put on his trousers and shirt, not wanting to embarrass himself further.

The elf looked up from his meal as Wild apologized for dragging him into all this.  "Ah, what other way would I spend my night?" he teased.  "Sleeping off several pints of grotesque ale and fending off unsavory women.  At least with you, I have something pretty to look at," he added softly, noticing how much nicer the elf girl looked now that she was washed.  Realizing what he said, he quickly took a drink from his mug, hoping that she hadn't noticed the blush on his face.

Wanting to get onto a safer topic, he glanced out the nearest window.  The storm was still raging and the sky was black as coal.  The small amount of landscape he could make out was shown by lightning strikes and brave lanterns fighting against the wind.  If he squinted he could make out the tall hill beyond the town, the one where the orphanage stood glaring at the houses down below.

"I think we need to practice our skills before we reach Mir," he said with a grin.  "I know I could use the practice and I don't know how you could handle yourself in a fight.  Don't want to be rusty if we have to fight off an army of mercenaries, now do we?"  He paused, noticing the inn keeper's wife pass close with a tray of drinks.  "What do you think about a robbery at Master's place?"