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haebinThis is it.
This is the last part of my 'first' book.
In the next chapter, the protagonists will embark on a new journey. New worlds, new dangers, old enemies, strangers who are well-disposed towards them. New paths to be climbed, old companions to be left behind.
And I would be very, very happy if you - my friends and the people who follow Anwyn's and Trálír's journey - would also follow the next part of the Mistress of the Shadowlands.
Thank you so much for accompanying me and my characters, for empathizing and sharing your thoughts with me. Thank you very, very much!
♥️
A few days ago, winter had descended on the Blackwater Lands with a vengeance. The sky announced this with dark gray clouds hanging low over the land. Not long after, snow began to fall from the sky and it was only a few hours before the bay and the rest of the land was covered in a thick layer of white.
It had not stopped snowing for a moment since the onset of winter and the castle was so deeply snowed in that the soldiers had trouble opening the gate and the servants spent hours clearing the inner courtyard of the icy masses. Once they had cleared the castle gate from the masses of snow, they started all over again. Day after day, night after night.
Trálír knew that Anwyn's home was just as snowed in as the few villages inhabited by humans. The elven communities that lay deep in the forests would withdraw completely over the winter. Not an elf, human or animal was to be seen in this cold. Even gnolls, goblins, monsters and other creatures had retreated to their dwellings to escape the hostile cold with the prospect of surviving the winter.
Traveling through the countryside now in deep snow and bitter cold was like committing suicide, but Trálír had no other option but to fight his way through the almost thigh-high masses of snow.
He feared for Anwyn's safety and that of her father and he needed help to protect her. There was no real danger at the moment, but it lurked in the background through his father and his brother's dark desire. Trálír could not take the slightest risk, he was aware of that.
Since his presence during the winter months would only take place in the castle area, it was not possible for him to ensure Anwyn's safety day and night. It was not only the masses of snow and the icy temperatures that would prevent him from doing so, but also the constant and watchful gaze of his father.
In the early hours of yesterday morning, Trálír had slipped out of his chamber and decided against setting off with Arod. The ground was frozen through and the layer of snow on it would make it impossible for the stallion to find a safe footing. The last thing Trálír wanted was for his stallion to break his fetlocks.
And so Trálír struggled through the snow while the icy wind cut deeply and painfully into his face, which he tried to cover with the hood of his cloak. The clothes he wore were made of thick, heavy felt wool and fur that would protect him from the cold.
He had spent the night in the shelter of a small uninhabited cave into which he had crawled and sat hunched over for hours. With frozen fingers and almost blue lips, he had uncorked a small bottle of magical “Cold Fire” and poured a few drops onto the dry ground in front of him. As soon as the potion hit the ground, a warming fire instantly began to ignite. The flames of the fire glowed blue despite the pleasant heat and Trálír took off his damp cloak and placed it near the fire so that it could dry. He himself moved a little closer to the fire so that it would help him brave the cold and survive the night. The bottle of potion he took from his pouch contained ice wine, a warming brew despite its misleading name.
Lost in thought, he chewed on a strip of dried meat for a while until the exhaustion of the arduous battle in the masses of snow took its toll and he fell into a deep meditation for half a night. The rising sun fell in only a narrow strip through the cave entrance but this was enough to wake Trálír. His first instinct was to stretch and as he tried to do so, he bumped his head against the low ceiling of the cave. With a sigh on his lips, he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He extinguished the fire with magical words and put the ice wine back into his pouch, then reached for his cloak and sighed with relief that the fabric had dried throughout the night. With the comforting feeling of warmth in his clothes and also in his own body, he was able to face the icy cold effortlessly for the first few hours. He would still have a long way to go through the merciless winds and thick snow before he reached his destination.
It would be a hard and exhausting journey but Trálír had expected that. Right after his decision to head into the deep forest in search for help he gathered enough food and potions to last the journey and a few days longer. Just in case.
Nevertheless, hardly anyone had really been able to help him when he secretly tried to obtain information. He had to be selective and careful, because most of the inhabitants and servants in the Blackwater Castle were loyal to his father and Trálír wanted to avoid at all costs for the news to reach his father about his son’s exact whereabouts were.
He was aware that he would be confronted with the consequences of his surprising excursion in this hostile environment on his return. And he also expected that these consequences could end painfully for him, but he would take the risk and deal with it when he had reached his destination and returned to the castle.
His first stop was Fairre, the stable master. While he mucked out the stables and groomed Arod, Trálír asked quietly if Fairre knew anyone who could offer protection. The older half-elf frowned when he heard Trálír's question and hesitated. The elf was also hesitant at first, but he had no choice but to take the risk. So he took a deep breath, gathered all his courage and confessed to the stable master that he was on a quest to seek protection for his companion. But Fairre shook his head sadly, for he had no satisfactory answer for his master.
Trálír was disappointed, even if he had already thought that he couldn't help him. Fairre had lived in the castle since he was a young lad, how could he have known anyone who could be of help to Trálír?
As he left the stables, his eyes glanced over the soldiers and servants present, but there was no one he trusted enough to confide in. Frustrated and almost hopeless, he walked across the courtyard as Ulthred crossed his path. Hope filled him as he hurried towards the half-elf and approached him. He asked the half elf to meet him when the night was darkest and to bring Conall with him. Ulthred frowned at his master's request, but with a nod he indicated that he would comply.
Deep in the night, when it was so dark that even a torch could barely illuminate the surroundings, Trálír waited impatiently in the stable. When the door opened with a soft squeak and the two half-elves entered, he sighed with relief. He asked them to join him and began to tell them that he feared for Anwyn's safety. He confided in them that he feared, his father and his own brother would harm her when when winter came and made him, Trálír, a prisoner in the castle, unable to to ensure Anwyn’s safety. He needed help, needed someone to protect her, and when he had finished, Conall looked at him dejectedly. In a low voice, he confessed that he knew no one who could help Trálír. But Ulthred remembered someone, a ranger who was mostly seen in the dark forests of the south. It had once taken him to many a town, such as Waterdeep, but only a few years later it drove him back to the realms he knew best. As Ulthred's family was spread across the Blackwater Lands and lived beyond the borders, he knew the name of the ranger. Ezra of Blackwater.
But Ulthred did not know where he could find him.
Before Trálír lost all hope, however, the half-elf mentioned that the carver's eldest apprentice might be able to help him, for the humans seemed to know Ezra of Waterdeep better as he was also a human himself.
Feeling hopeless, Trálír approached the boy the next morning and asked him if he knew of the ranger and when he answered with hesitation, it was almost impossible not to show his excitement. He asked the boy a few questions and found out that the ranger could not be found during the spring and summer because no one could read his tracks. But in winter he seemed to retreat to smaller towns, mostly settlements of ill repute. Perhaps he would find him in the south, in a place like Brownberry, but he wasn't sure.
Trálír thanked the boy and pressed some gold coins into his dirty hand, which he stared at with wide eyes.
And as soon as winter fell over the Blackwater Lands, Trálír didn't hesitate another moment.
And now he fought his way further south through the snow. Every step required a maximum effort from his muscles, which had to brace themselves against this unrelenting mass. In order not to lose his balance, Trálír had picked up a branch of blackthorn in the carver's workshop before sneaking out of the castle, which he now used as a kind of walking stick. When he got stuck in the masses of snow, he lifted the stick, pushed it into the thick snow in front of him and pulled himself along until he had struggled on.
Trálír could feel the sweat gathering on his forehead from the physical exertion and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. As he pushed his hood up a little, the next icy gust of wind caught him with such force that it brought tears to his eyes.
He gritted his teeth and walked on towards Brownberry, a small village mostly inhabited by humans and avoided by righteous people, as it was a gathering place for thieves, robbers, murderers, smugglers and spies.
Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, not losing his balance and fighting his way through the snow, Trálír lost track of how much time had passed since he had left the cave. For a brief moment he stopped, put his hand over his eyes and looked up in the light snowfall, but the sky was thoroughly covered with dark, gray clouds. From the feel of it, Trálír guessed it was late afternoon and nightfall was not far off. And it was advisable to spend another night perhaps in a room at an inn, even if it was in a place like Brownberry. With clenched teeth and bowed head, protecting himself from the relentless wind that blew, Trálír steadily put one foot in front of the other until he could spot some old, partially collapsed houses through the already thinning trees. When he finally reached the edge of the forest and entered the village, he noticed the oppressive silence. But thick, black smoke billowed from the chimneys of the houses, so there were still inhabitants. It was understandable that they had retreated to their partially safe dwellings, as it would clearly be a sign of madness for them to expose themselves to this weather.
Trálír stepped into the narrow, well-trodden path that led to the center of the village. To enter the old inn called “The Black Swan”, he had to walk through the village to the other end and then keep to the left.
The snowfall had increased and although Trálír didn't see anyone, he could feel the suspicious glances of the residents who were hiding behind their windows and watching warily as a stranger struggled through the snow.
Relief spread through the high elf when he could finally make out the inn's sign. With renewed energy, Trálír fought his way through the snow until he reached the heavy wooden door and opened it.
The inn welcomed its new guests with a cozy warmth, a fireplace in the middle of the house around which a few tables and benches were set up, where the few other strangers warmed up with a meal or a spicy beer. There were a few tables with wooden stools against the wall, dimly lit by the glow of the fire. At the end of the room to the right, a wooden staircase led to the upper floor where there were perhaps a handful of guest rooms. Trálír stepped into the inn, closed the door behind him and nodded politely to the barkeeper who was cleaning some glasses behind the counter. He waited until the innkeeper also greeted him with a nod, albeit a rather reserved one, and then walked past the tables and the fire and settled down at one of the smaller tables, slightly hidden by the glow of the hearth. With a weary sigh, he flipped his hood back, unfastened his cloak and placed it on a stool. Before he could look around, the innkeeper stepped up to the table and looked down at him.
“What brings you to our little village in this freezing cold?” he asked in a low voice and Trálír looked up at him, a friendly smile on his lips. The distrust was clearly audible in the old man's voice.
“A friend,” he answered the innkeeper's question and noticed his watchful gaze gliding over the strangers around the campfire. The high elf was aware that everyone in the room had their eyes on him and was listening attentively to his every word.
“Well then, if you tell me his name, I might be able to help you,” the man replied with a smile on his face as well. Trálír suspected that his smile was not the result of sincerity but curiosity and suspicion. “I know everyone here in Brownberry.” Pride and a hint of arrogance glowed in the human's blue eyes as he spoke these words and Trálír answered his statement with an impressed nod.
“I'll gladly return to your knowledge, innkeeper, but first bring me a spicy pint, some hot tea and soup. And if you still have some tasty bread and a roast in the storehouse, I would be very happy to have it.”
The smile that now appeared on the older man's lips was genuine as the prospect of a few coins gladdened his heart. Earning a few coins in winter was a rarity, as most of the guests from the village would have their pints credited until the moment they could go about their business again.
Elated, he turned around, walked to the counter and called out a female name. Through the door leading to the kitchen peeked an older woman, probably the owner's wife, who listened to her husband's words and then retreated back into the room with a glow on her face.
Trálír could imagine that the prospect of a few silver coins in this harsh time of year certainly brought a feeling of happiness.
Realizing that all eyes were still on him, Trálír removed the wooden staff in his hand and placed it carefully against the wall, then removed his wet thick leather gloves and placed them on the stool.
The next moment the innkeeper appeared with a mug of ale in his hand, which he placed in front of Trálír and explained that the hot food would take a moment. Trálír thanked him, took the tankard in his hands and took a long sip with his eyes closed.
He felt his body relax and he could taste the different flavors of the drink. The brew was heavy and full-bodied, resinous and he could detect a hint of elderberry and red berries. With a comforting, warm feeling in his stomach, Trálír let himself sink back a little until he felt the stone wall at his back.
Only now did he turn his gaze into the room and let it glide over the guests present, but quickly realized that none of them was the one whose help he needed. He had a description of the ranger whose help he was hoping for and none of the men around the fire resembled him.
A clearing of the throat tore Trálír from his observations and the innkeeper's wife stood in front of him with a platter of food in her hand. His mouth watered when he saw and smelled the warm loaf of bread and half a roast. The hearty soup in a bowl smelled of mushrooms, potatoes and onions. Trálír thanked her with a growling stomach and watched as the woman placed the meal on the table with a proud smile. She wished him to enjoy the meal and then walked over to her husband, who was cleaning the used glasses behind the counter again.
Trálír could not suppress a contented sigh as he took his first bite of the warm, crusty bread. As he savored the warm meal, he put all his worries behind him for a moment.
When he was about halfway through his meal, the innkeeper's wife brought him a hot herbal tea, which Trálír gratefully accepted. The warm, tasty meal, the spicy ale and the tea were a relief for Trálír's frozen body and when he had finished, he relaxed his shoulders and yawned.
How he longed for a warm, soft bed and a few hours of deep meditation, but he knew that he could not give in to this need.
As he ate the sumptuous meal, Trálír had glanced around the room from time to time and when he looked to his right and saw a shadow in the dark, he was filled with excitement.
The elf rose slowly, walked to the counter and reached into his pouch, took out a small bag with a few coins and paid for his meal. He could feel the strangers' eyes on his neck and knew that they were weighing up whether it would be worth robbing him if he were to leave the inn again. But Trálír asked for two mugs of ale and when the innkeeper had poured them out, he reached for them and strode across the room until he reached the table where a man was sitting in the shade. A low growl made Trálír realize that the stranger was not alone.
The man slowly raised his hand and the dog with the light brown fur, which had been resting next to its master and had instantly straightened up at Trálír's approach, sat up on its hind legs and tilted its head slightly. He noticed that the pointed ears were erect and the look in his purple eyes was alert and intelligent at the same time. Trálír stood in front of the table with the two mugs of ale in his hands and hesitated for a moment. How was he supposed to find a beginning for the request that had brought him here?
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the dog was slowly relaxing and settling down, which probably meant that he didn't think the elf was much of a threat. For a brief moment, Trálír caught a glimpse of the dog's tail and realized that it was a Blink Dog. Their tails had a large tuft at the end, which was a clear sign that he was dealing with a fey creature. Trálír raised his eyebrow in surprise, because it was rare to find a blink dog in the company of a human.
Blink dogs were no ordinary dogs that could be found in some places, but creatures that had the ability to teleport in an instant. They made life difficult for many an enemy when they suddenly disappeared from view with a blink of their eyes, only to attack you from behind or from the side the next moment, often from an elevated position.
The ranger followed his gaze and a smile slid across his face. He raised his eyes, looked up at Trálír and asked, “Do you want to join me?”
The high elf was so surprised by the man's sudden words that it took him a moment to comply with his request. With a nod, he placed the two jugs on the table and finally sat down on the stool. He pushed the jug across the table and toasted to the ranger, who looked at him with interest.
“What brings you here at this time of freezing cold?” he asked quietly and took a sip.
“I need help,” said Trálír, getting straight to the point. The ranger raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“If you are looking for help of a special kind, I must disappoint you,” he replied. “There are others in this tavern who will be at your service for a certain amount of gold.”
For a moment, Trálír's heart stumbled and his throat tightened until he realized where he was and what Brownberry was known for. If you were looking for someone to exact revenge or eliminate a rival, you came to this place and you were sure to find someone who would do it. And the ranger did not belong to these circles, Trálír knew that too.
“Forgive me if I haven't made myself clear enough. My search of help is different,” Trálír replied in a low voice. Curiosity glowed in the brown eyes of his counterpart.
“What kind of help are you looking for?”
“I need protection,” Trálír replied.
“Protection? An elf like you?” Ezra of Blackwater frowned. “Even if you are wearing clothes that look worn to hide the fact that you are of nobility, which your walk and manner of speech reveal, I don't see why someone like you would need protection. You certainly have many soldiers behind you.”
“It seems you are not easily fooled,” Trálír said, impressed, and saw the ranger laugh softly. He brushed his shoulder-length dark brown hair out of his face and revealed his face.
The first gray hairs were showing in his three-day beard and his face bore several scars. Many of them were barely visible if you didn't look for them directly, but the deepest scar, which ran from the side of his temple to his chin, seemed to be the result of a claw attack. Trálír recognized intelligence and alertness in the brown eyes of his counterpart.
Even though Ezra of Blackwater sat relaxed on his bench, Trálír recognized the muscles that stood out under his dark tunic. He had an athletic build that suggested speed and agility, the most important attributes of a ranger.
Trálír would have liked to know what path Ezra of Blackwater had chosen in his past, what principles he stood for. But since he knew that he helped the people in the woods to kill gnolls, gnomes and other humanoid enemies so that they could live in peace and safety, the chance that he would help him to protect Anwyn was quite good.
“Well, it's best if I start from the beginning and rest assured, my words are true, even if they sound like I'm making false claims or telling a fairy tale,” Trálír began apologetically. “My name is Trálír and I am the son of Trálír the Elder, ruler of the Blackwater Lands. Your words are true, that I am of nobility, even if there are times when I wish it were otherwise. My heart belongs to a woman, a human woman, and I fear for her safety. Winter makes it impossible for me to leave the castle for longer and provide protection. I know you have retreated to this inn for the winter, but you are the only one capable of surviving in this cold and making sure...” Trálír broke off as the words stuck in his throat.
He shrugged sheepishly and realized with astonishment that there was understanding in the ranger's eyes. Trálír unconsciously bit his lower lip and desperately tried to find words to continue when the dark voice of Ezra asked, “What kind of protection does she need?”
“To be honest, I don't know,” Trálír replied quietly, looking apologetically at the ranger. “This situation is tricky. I want protection for her and also for her father and I know the danger she is in, but I don't know if anything is planned on the part of my father or brother. It's more of a gut feeling, you know?”
The ranger nodded in understanding.
“You should always trust your own instincts,” he replied. “They are rarely wrong.”
“I wish the freezing cold of this winter would provide enough protection. I doubt my father nor my brother will leave the comfort of the castle, but I do not know if there is a mission, if someone has been found to harm her.”
Trálír looked around the tavern meaningfully before turning his attention back to the ranger across from him. “You know that enough gold can ensure the end of one or more lives in a fraction of a second.”
“What should my protection involve?” asked Ezra of Blackwater in a serious voice. “I'm aware that I'm supposed to watch her without her being aware of my presence, right?”
The high elf nodded affirmatively.
“In case it comes to the situation you fear, do you expect me to end the lives of the attackers?”
“Not if it can be avoided,” Trálír replied. “If I were only concerned with the death of the attacker, I would have found a place at the table near the fire. I know about the talents of the guests here. But that is not my concern. I only ask for protection and your intervention in the worst-case scenario. I don't expect you to kill for me.”
“But if the worst comes to the worst, you expect me to intervene?” asked Ezra, taking another sip of ale.
“Only if it comes to the worst. If you can find another way, I would prefer it. Perhaps you can incapacitate them with a well-aimed shot from your bow to the thigh, perhaps you can stop them by using a dark arrow or throwing a sleeping potion. If you see the ones we're talking about and you have enough time, get her and her father to safety.”
Ezra of Blackwater nodded. “Will she trust me if I suddenly appear out of nowhere?” he asked and Trálír nodded. “I had the chance to speak with her before winter fell upon the lands. Name Yellow Cowslips as a sign of recognition and she will trust you.”
“So be it,” Ezra replied with a nod. His words prompted Trálír to slowly reach into his pouch and push a sack the size of his fist across the table, full of gold coins. When Ezra of Blackwater realized what a fortune lay before him, he stared at the high elf in bewilderment.
“Your offer is generous, sir, but let me tell you that I do not need this amount of coin. I am but a ranger, I live my existence in these woods or on journeys and need little in the way of coin. I will have to decline this generosity.”
“Please, accept these. If you do not wish to call the coins your own, I believe you know how to invest them. Perhaps for a new bow, healing potions, scrolls. Maybe something for your dog, magic to protect it from this cold.”
“Even a handful of coins would be too much for the things you describe.”
Trálír nodded. “I am aware of that, Ezra of Blackwater. But take this opportunity, there will surely be a circumstance where you can invest the coins as you wish. And even if they find their way to a beggar, I trust you. You and your principles.”
Trálír took his hands off the coin pouch and nodded gratefully to the ranger.
“How will we find each other?” Trálír asked in a low voice and the ranger returned the question with a smile.
“If you haven't heard from me by spring, mount your horse and ride to your beloved, who will welcome you with open arms.”
“And if not?” the elf asked cautiously.
“Then I will find a way to get in touch with you.”
And those were the last words Trálír was to hear from Ezra of Blackwater, for the ranger rose from his chair, bowed slightly, reached for the coin pouch and looked at his dog, who also rose and followed his master. Trálír emptied the tankard of ale, rose and went back to his table. He reached for the cloak, pulled it over him and breathed in the warmth of the burning campfire. Then he turned in the direction of the owner, asked for a room and, key in hand, climbed the stairs to enter the small chamber at the end of the corridor.
This is the last part of my 'first' book.
In the next chapter, the protagonists will embark on a new journey. New worlds, new dangers, old enemies, strangers who are well-disposed towards them. New paths to be climbed, old companions to be left behind.
And I would be very, very happy if you - my friends and the people who follow Anwyn's and Trálír's journey - would also follow the next part of the Mistress of the Shadowlands.
Thank you so much for accompanying me and my characters, for empathizing and sharing your thoughts with me. Thank you very, very much!
♥️
A few days ago, winter had descended on the Blackwater Lands with a vengeance. The sky announced this with dark gray clouds hanging low over the land. Not long after, snow began to fall from the sky and it was only a few hours before the bay and the rest of the land was covered in a thick layer of white.
It had not stopped snowing for a moment since the onset of winter and the castle was so deeply snowed in that the soldiers had trouble opening the gate and the servants spent hours clearing the inner courtyard of the icy masses. Once they had cleared the castle gate from the masses of snow, they started all over again. Day after day, night after night.
Trálír knew that Anwyn's home was just as snowed in as the few villages inhabited by humans. The elven communities that lay deep in the forests would withdraw completely over the winter. Not an elf, human or animal was to be seen in this cold. Even gnolls, goblins, monsters and other creatures had retreated to their dwellings to escape the hostile cold with the prospect of surviving the winter.
Traveling through the countryside now in deep snow and bitter cold was like committing suicide, but Trálír had no other option but to fight his way through the almost thigh-high masses of snow.
He feared for Anwyn's safety and that of her father and he needed help to protect her. There was no real danger at the moment, but it lurked in the background through his father and his brother's dark desire. Trálír could not take the slightest risk, he was aware of that.
Since his presence during the winter months would only take place in the castle area, it was not possible for him to ensure Anwyn's safety day and night. It was not only the masses of snow and the icy temperatures that would prevent him from doing so, but also the constant and watchful gaze of his father.
In the early hours of yesterday morning, Trálír had slipped out of his chamber and decided against setting off with Arod. The ground was frozen through and the layer of snow on it would make it impossible for the stallion to find a safe footing. The last thing Trálír wanted was for his stallion to break his fetlocks.
And so Trálír struggled through the snow while the icy wind cut deeply and painfully into his face, which he tried to cover with the hood of his cloak. The clothes he wore were made of thick, heavy felt wool and fur that would protect him from the cold.
He had spent the night in the shelter of a small uninhabited cave into which he had crawled and sat hunched over for hours. With frozen fingers and almost blue lips, he had uncorked a small bottle of magical “Cold Fire” and poured a few drops onto the dry ground in front of him. As soon as the potion hit the ground, a warming fire instantly began to ignite. The flames of the fire glowed blue despite the pleasant heat and Trálír took off his damp cloak and placed it near the fire so that it could dry. He himself moved a little closer to the fire so that it would help him brave the cold and survive the night. The bottle of potion he took from his pouch contained ice wine, a warming brew despite its misleading name.
Lost in thought, he chewed on a strip of dried meat for a while until the exhaustion of the arduous battle in the masses of snow took its toll and he fell into a deep meditation for half a night. The rising sun fell in only a narrow strip through the cave entrance but this was enough to wake Trálír. His first instinct was to stretch and as he tried to do so, he bumped his head against the low ceiling of the cave. With a sigh on his lips, he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He extinguished the fire with magical words and put the ice wine back into his pouch, then reached for his cloak and sighed with relief that the fabric had dried throughout the night. With the comforting feeling of warmth in his clothes and also in his own body, he was able to face the icy cold effortlessly for the first few hours. He would still have a long way to go through the merciless winds and thick snow before he reached his destination.
It would be a hard and exhausting journey but Trálír had expected that. Right after his decision to head into the deep forest in search for help he gathered enough food and potions to last the journey and a few days longer. Just in case.
Nevertheless, hardly anyone had really been able to help him when he secretly tried to obtain information. He had to be selective and careful, because most of the inhabitants and servants in the Blackwater Castle were loyal to his father and Trálír wanted to avoid at all costs for the news to reach his father about his son’s exact whereabouts were.
He was aware that he would be confronted with the consequences of his surprising excursion in this hostile environment on his return. And he also expected that these consequences could end painfully for him, but he would take the risk and deal with it when he had reached his destination and returned to the castle.
His first stop was Fairre, the stable master. While he mucked out the stables and groomed Arod, Trálír asked quietly if Fairre knew anyone who could offer protection. The older half-elf frowned when he heard Trálír's question and hesitated. The elf was also hesitant at first, but he had no choice but to take the risk. So he took a deep breath, gathered all his courage and confessed to the stable master that he was on a quest to seek protection for his companion. But Fairre shook his head sadly, for he had no satisfactory answer for his master.
Trálír was disappointed, even if he had already thought that he couldn't help him. Fairre had lived in the castle since he was a young lad, how could he have known anyone who could be of help to Trálír?
As he left the stables, his eyes glanced over the soldiers and servants present, but there was no one he trusted enough to confide in. Frustrated and almost hopeless, he walked across the courtyard as Ulthred crossed his path. Hope filled him as he hurried towards the half-elf and approached him. He asked the half elf to meet him when the night was darkest and to bring Conall with him. Ulthred frowned at his master's request, but with a nod he indicated that he would comply.
Deep in the night, when it was so dark that even a torch could barely illuminate the surroundings, Trálír waited impatiently in the stable. When the door opened with a soft squeak and the two half-elves entered, he sighed with relief. He asked them to join him and began to tell them that he feared for Anwyn's safety. He confided in them that he feared, his father and his own brother would harm her when when winter came and made him, Trálír, a prisoner in the castle, unable to to ensure Anwyn’s safety. He needed help, needed someone to protect her, and when he had finished, Conall looked at him dejectedly. In a low voice, he confessed that he knew no one who could help Trálír. But Ulthred remembered someone, a ranger who was mostly seen in the dark forests of the south. It had once taken him to many a town, such as Waterdeep, but only a few years later it drove him back to the realms he knew best. As Ulthred's family was spread across the Blackwater Lands and lived beyond the borders, he knew the name of the ranger. Ezra of Blackwater.
But Ulthred did not know where he could find him.
Before Trálír lost all hope, however, the half-elf mentioned that the carver's eldest apprentice might be able to help him, for the humans seemed to know Ezra of Waterdeep better as he was also a human himself.
Feeling hopeless, Trálír approached the boy the next morning and asked him if he knew of the ranger and when he answered with hesitation, it was almost impossible not to show his excitement. He asked the boy a few questions and found out that the ranger could not be found during the spring and summer because no one could read his tracks. But in winter he seemed to retreat to smaller towns, mostly settlements of ill repute. Perhaps he would find him in the south, in a place like Brownberry, but he wasn't sure.
Trálír thanked the boy and pressed some gold coins into his dirty hand, which he stared at with wide eyes.
And as soon as winter fell over the Blackwater Lands, Trálír didn't hesitate another moment.
And now he fought his way further south through the snow. Every step required a maximum effort from his muscles, which had to brace themselves against this unrelenting mass. In order not to lose his balance, Trálír had picked up a branch of blackthorn in the carver's workshop before sneaking out of the castle, which he now used as a kind of walking stick. When he got stuck in the masses of snow, he lifted the stick, pushed it into the thick snow in front of him and pulled himself along until he had struggled on.
Trálír could feel the sweat gathering on his forehead from the physical exertion and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. As he pushed his hood up a little, the next icy gust of wind caught him with such force that it brought tears to his eyes.
He gritted his teeth and walked on towards Brownberry, a small village mostly inhabited by humans and avoided by righteous people, as it was a gathering place for thieves, robbers, murderers, smugglers and spies.
Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, not losing his balance and fighting his way through the snow, Trálír lost track of how much time had passed since he had left the cave. For a brief moment he stopped, put his hand over his eyes and looked up in the light snowfall, but the sky was thoroughly covered with dark, gray clouds. From the feel of it, Trálír guessed it was late afternoon and nightfall was not far off. And it was advisable to spend another night perhaps in a room at an inn, even if it was in a place like Brownberry. With clenched teeth and bowed head, protecting himself from the relentless wind that blew, Trálír steadily put one foot in front of the other until he could spot some old, partially collapsed houses through the already thinning trees. When he finally reached the edge of the forest and entered the village, he noticed the oppressive silence. But thick, black smoke billowed from the chimneys of the houses, so there were still inhabitants. It was understandable that they had retreated to their partially safe dwellings, as it would clearly be a sign of madness for them to expose themselves to this weather.
Trálír stepped into the narrow, well-trodden path that led to the center of the village. To enter the old inn called “The Black Swan”, he had to walk through the village to the other end and then keep to the left.
The snowfall had increased and although Trálír didn't see anyone, he could feel the suspicious glances of the residents who were hiding behind their windows and watching warily as a stranger struggled through the snow.
Relief spread through the high elf when he could finally make out the inn's sign. With renewed energy, Trálír fought his way through the snow until he reached the heavy wooden door and opened it.
The inn welcomed its new guests with a cozy warmth, a fireplace in the middle of the house around which a few tables and benches were set up, where the few other strangers warmed up with a meal or a spicy beer. There were a few tables with wooden stools against the wall, dimly lit by the glow of the fire. At the end of the room to the right, a wooden staircase led to the upper floor where there were perhaps a handful of guest rooms. Trálír stepped into the inn, closed the door behind him and nodded politely to the barkeeper who was cleaning some glasses behind the counter. He waited until the innkeeper also greeted him with a nod, albeit a rather reserved one, and then walked past the tables and the fire and settled down at one of the smaller tables, slightly hidden by the glow of the hearth. With a weary sigh, he flipped his hood back, unfastened his cloak and placed it on a stool. Before he could look around, the innkeeper stepped up to the table and looked down at him.
“What brings you to our little village in this freezing cold?” he asked in a low voice and Trálír looked up at him, a friendly smile on his lips. The distrust was clearly audible in the old man's voice.
“A friend,” he answered the innkeeper's question and noticed his watchful gaze gliding over the strangers around the campfire. The high elf was aware that everyone in the room had their eyes on him and was listening attentively to his every word.
“Well then, if you tell me his name, I might be able to help you,” the man replied with a smile on his face as well. Trálír suspected that his smile was not the result of sincerity but curiosity and suspicion. “I know everyone here in Brownberry.” Pride and a hint of arrogance glowed in the human's blue eyes as he spoke these words and Trálír answered his statement with an impressed nod.
“I'll gladly return to your knowledge, innkeeper, but first bring me a spicy pint, some hot tea and soup. And if you still have some tasty bread and a roast in the storehouse, I would be very happy to have it.”
The smile that now appeared on the older man's lips was genuine as the prospect of a few coins gladdened his heart. Earning a few coins in winter was a rarity, as most of the guests from the village would have their pints credited until the moment they could go about their business again.
Elated, he turned around, walked to the counter and called out a female name. Through the door leading to the kitchen peeked an older woman, probably the owner's wife, who listened to her husband's words and then retreated back into the room with a glow on her face.
Trálír could imagine that the prospect of a few silver coins in this harsh time of year certainly brought a feeling of happiness.
Realizing that all eyes were still on him, Trálír removed the wooden staff in his hand and placed it carefully against the wall, then removed his wet thick leather gloves and placed them on the stool.
The next moment the innkeeper appeared with a mug of ale in his hand, which he placed in front of Trálír and explained that the hot food would take a moment. Trálír thanked him, took the tankard in his hands and took a long sip with his eyes closed.
He felt his body relax and he could taste the different flavors of the drink. The brew was heavy and full-bodied, resinous and he could detect a hint of elderberry and red berries. With a comforting, warm feeling in his stomach, Trálír let himself sink back a little until he felt the stone wall at his back.
Only now did he turn his gaze into the room and let it glide over the guests present, but quickly realized that none of them was the one whose help he needed. He had a description of the ranger whose help he was hoping for and none of the men around the fire resembled him.
A clearing of the throat tore Trálír from his observations and the innkeeper's wife stood in front of him with a platter of food in her hand. His mouth watered when he saw and smelled the warm loaf of bread and half a roast. The hearty soup in a bowl smelled of mushrooms, potatoes and onions. Trálír thanked her with a growling stomach and watched as the woman placed the meal on the table with a proud smile. She wished him to enjoy the meal and then walked over to her husband, who was cleaning the used glasses behind the counter again.
Trálír could not suppress a contented sigh as he took his first bite of the warm, crusty bread. As he savored the warm meal, he put all his worries behind him for a moment.
When he was about halfway through his meal, the innkeeper's wife brought him a hot herbal tea, which Trálír gratefully accepted. The warm, tasty meal, the spicy ale and the tea were a relief for Trálír's frozen body and when he had finished, he relaxed his shoulders and yawned.
How he longed for a warm, soft bed and a few hours of deep meditation, but he knew that he could not give in to this need.
As he ate the sumptuous meal, Trálír had glanced around the room from time to time and when he looked to his right and saw a shadow in the dark, he was filled with excitement.
The elf rose slowly, walked to the counter and reached into his pouch, took out a small bag with a few coins and paid for his meal. He could feel the strangers' eyes on his neck and knew that they were weighing up whether it would be worth robbing him if he were to leave the inn again. But Trálír asked for two mugs of ale and when the innkeeper had poured them out, he reached for them and strode across the room until he reached the table where a man was sitting in the shade. A low growl made Trálír realize that the stranger was not alone.
The man slowly raised his hand and the dog with the light brown fur, which had been resting next to its master and had instantly straightened up at Trálír's approach, sat up on its hind legs and tilted its head slightly. He noticed that the pointed ears were erect and the look in his purple eyes was alert and intelligent at the same time. Trálír stood in front of the table with the two mugs of ale in his hands and hesitated for a moment. How was he supposed to find a beginning for the request that had brought him here?
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the dog was slowly relaxing and settling down, which probably meant that he didn't think the elf was much of a threat. For a brief moment, Trálír caught a glimpse of the dog's tail and realized that it was a Blink Dog. Their tails had a large tuft at the end, which was a clear sign that he was dealing with a fey creature. Trálír raised his eyebrow in surprise, because it was rare to find a blink dog in the company of a human.
Blink dogs were no ordinary dogs that could be found in some places, but creatures that had the ability to teleport in an instant. They made life difficult for many an enemy when they suddenly disappeared from view with a blink of their eyes, only to attack you from behind or from the side the next moment, often from an elevated position.
The ranger followed his gaze and a smile slid across his face. He raised his eyes, looked up at Trálír and asked, “Do you want to join me?”
The high elf was so surprised by the man's sudden words that it took him a moment to comply with his request. With a nod, he placed the two jugs on the table and finally sat down on the stool. He pushed the jug across the table and toasted to the ranger, who looked at him with interest.
“What brings you here at this time of freezing cold?” he asked quietly and took a sip.
“I need help,” said Trálír, getting straight to the point. The ranger raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“If you are looking for help of a special kind, I must disappoint you,” he replied. “There are others in this tavern who will be at your service for a certain amount of gold.”
For a moment, Trálír's heart stumbled and his throat tightened until he realized where he was and what Brownberry was known for. If you were looking for someone to exact revenge or eliminate a rival, you came to this place and you were sure to find someone who would do it. And the ranger did not belong to these circles, Trálír knew that too.
“Forgive me if I haven't made myself clear enough. My search of help is different,” Trálír replied in a low voice. Curiosity glowed in the brown eyes of his counterpart.
“What kind of help are you looking for?”
“I need protection,” Trálír replied.
“Protection? An elf like you?” Ezra of Blackwater frowned. “Even if you are wearing clothes that look worn to hide the fact that you are of nobility, which your walk and manner of speech reveal, I don't see why someone like you would need protection. You certainly have many soldiers behind you.”
“It seems you are not easily fooled,” Trálír said, impressed, and saw the ranger laugh softly. He brushed his shoulder-length dark brown hair out of his face and revealed his face.
The first gray hairs were showing in his three-day beard and his face bore several scars. Many of them were barely visible if you didn't look for them directly, but the deepest scar, which ran from the side of his temple to his chin, seemed to be the result of a claw attack. Trálír recognized intelligence and alertness in the brown eyes of his counterpart.
Even though Ezra of Blackwater sat relaxed on his bench, Trálír recognized the muscles that stood out under his dark tunic. He had an athletic build that suggested speed and agility, the most important attributes of a ranger.
Trálír would have liked to know what path Ezra of Blackwater had chosen in his past, what principles he stood for. But since he knew that he helped the people in the woods to kill gnolls, gnomes and other humanoid enemies so that they could live in peace and safety, the chance that he would help him to protect Anwyn was quite good.
“Well, it's best if I start from the beginning and rest assured, my words are true, even if they sound like I'm making false claims or telling a fairy tale,” Trálír began apologetically. “My name is Trálír and I am the son of Trálír the Elder, ruler of the Blackwater Lands. Your words are true, that I am of nobility, even if there are times when I wish it were otherwise. My heart belongs to a woman, a human woman, and I fear for her safety. Winter makes it impossible for me to leave the castle for longer and provide protection. I know you have retreated to this inn for the winter, but you are the only one capable of surviving in this cold and making sure...” Trálír broke off as the words stuck in his throat.
He shrugged sheepishly and realized with astonishment that there was understanding in the ranger's eyes. Trálír unconsciously bit his lower lip and desperately tried to find words to continue when the dark voice of Ezra asked, “What kind of protection does she need?”
“To be honest, I don't know,” Trálír replied quietly, looking apologetically at the ranger. “This situation is tricky. I want protection for her and also for her father and I know the danger she is in, but I don't know if anything is planned on the part of my father or brother. It's more of a gut feeling, you know?”
The ranger nodded in understanding.
“You should always trust your own instincts,” he replied. “They are rarely wrong.”
“I wish the freezing cold of this winter would provide enough protection. I doubt my father nor my brother will leave the comfort of the castle, but I do not know if there is a mission, if someone has been found to harm her.”
Trálír looked around the tavern meaningfully before turning his attention back to the ranger across from him. “You know that enough gold can ensure the end of one or more lives in a fraction of a second.”
“What should my protection involve?” asked Ezra of Blackwater in a serious voice. “I'm aware that I'm supposed to watch her without her being aware of my presence, right?”
The high elf nodded affirmatively.
“In case it comes to the situation you fear, do you expect me to end the lives of the attackers?”
“Not if it can be avoided,” Trálír replied. “If I were only concerned with the death of the attacker, I would have found a place at the table near the fire. I know about the talents of the guests here. But that is not my concern. I only ask for protection and your intervention in the worst-case scenario. I don't expect you to kill for me.”
“But if the worst comes to the worst, you expect me to intervene?” asked Ezra, taking another sip of ale.
“Only if it comes to the worst. If you can find another way, I would prefer it. Perhaps you can incapacitate them with a well-aimed shot from your bow to the thigh, perhaps you can stop them by using a dark arrow or throwing a sleeping potion. If you see the ones we're talking about and you have enough time, get her and her father to safety.”
Ezra of Blackwater nodded. “Will she trust me if I suddenly appear out of nowhere?” he asked and Trálír nodded. “I had the chance to speak with her before winter fell upon the lands. Name Yellow Cowslips as a sign of recognition and she will trust you.”
“So be it,” Ezra replied with a nod. His words prompted Trálír to slowly reach into his pouch and push a sack the size of his fist across the table, full of gold coins. When Ezra of Blackwater realized what a fortune lay before him, he stared at the high elf in bewilderment.
“Your offer is generous, sir, but let me tell you that I do not need this amount of coin. I am but a ranger, I live my existence in these woods or on journeys and need little in the way of coin. I will have to decline this generosity.”
“Please, accept these. If you do not wish to call the coins your own, I believe you know how to invest them. Perhaps for a new bow, healing potions, scrolls. Maybe something for your dog, magic to protect it from this cold.”
“Even a handful of coins would be too much for the things you describe.”
Trálír nodded. “I am aware of that, Ezra of Blackwater. But take this opportunity, there will surely be a circumstance where you can invest the coins as you wish. And even if they find their way to a beggar, I trust you. You and your principles.”
Trálír took his hands off the coin pouch and nodded gratefully to the ranger.
“How will we find each other?” Trálír asked in a low voice and the ranger returned the question with a smile.
“If you haven't heard from me by spring, mount your horse and ride to your beloved, who will welcome you with open arms.”
“And if not?” the elf asked cautiously.
“Then I will find a way to get in touch with you.”
And those were the last words Trálír was to hear from Ezra of Blackwater, for the ranger rose from his chair, bowed slightly, reached for the coin pouch and looked at his dog, who also rose and followed his master. Trálír emptied the tankard of ale, rose and went back to his table. He reached for the cloak, pulled it over him and breathed in the warmth of the burning campfire. Then he turned in the direction of the owner, asked for a room and, key in hand, climbed the stairs to enter the small chamber at the end of the corridor.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-24 03:06 pm (UTC)Congrats on finishing Book 1! \o/
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-27 02:03 pm (UTC)May I introduce you to him? His name is Eivo! ♥️
Thank you so, so much!!
♥️♥️♥️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-27 02:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-12-23 04:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-24 05:26 pm (UTC)Ich hätte auch gerne an kalten Tagen manchmal etwas "Cold Fire" dabei xD das wäre bestimmt sehr praktisch.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-26 01:49 pm (UTC)...kann es kaum erwarten, deine Figuren noch auf vielen weiteren Reisen zu begleiten :D
Awww! ♥️
Ein bisschen Magie würde in diesen Zeiten mit Sicherheit nicht schaden ^^
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-28 01:29 pm (UTC)Definitiv nicht.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-25 07:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-25 03:49 pm (UTC)❤️❤️❤️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-25 01:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-25 03:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-26 08:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-27 01:54 pm (UTC)♥️♥️♥️