think Araevin and the others are faring?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered, a little more sharply than he might have expected. Fflar paused, brush in hand, and waited. After a moment, Ilsevele sighed and looked up to meet his eyes. “He said that he was going to start his search in the ruins of Nar Kerymhoarth. I suppose they’re exploring the Nameless Dungeon even as we speak.”
Fflar sensed something unspoken in her reply. Then he puzzled it out. “You wonder if your place is with Araevin, don’t you?”
“I am concerned for him. And the rest of our companions, too. But I do not doubt my decision, Starbrow.” Ilsevele returned to rubbing down Swiftwind. The small gray mare nickered in pleasure, and nuzzled Ilsevele’s back. “I am certain that we must not fight the humans of these lands, not if there is any chance of making peace.”
“If you are confident in your decision, then what troubles you?”
Ilsevele shook her fine copper hair out of her eyes and arranged her tack and saddle neatly on the ground. Then she looked away across the overgrown fields surrounding the old manor. Glimmers of sunset still played in the clouds high overhead, but the forest shadows were dark and impenetrable in the deepening dusk. “I know I am doing what is right, but … I didn’t want to go with Araevin.”
“Didn’t want to go with him?” Fflar frowned. “There is nothing to trouble you there, Ilsevele. You see your duty differently than he sees his. There is no fault in that.”
“That isn’t what I meant, Starbrow.” Ilsevele glanced over her shoulder at him, and looked away. He thought he saw the glimmer of a tear on her cheek. “Araevin has changed, and I am not speaking of the color of his eyes or the high magic in his heart. The last few months have awakened him from some long Reverie. I think I only really knew him when he was dreaming away his days in Evermeet.”
“Someone had to do what he did,” Fflar said. “It’s a good thing that he was the equal of the challenge, isn’t it? Without Araevin’s skill, his determination, I do not know if we could have beaten the daemonfey at the Lonely Moor.”
“I know. But have you seen how Mooncrescent Tower marked him?” Ilsevele shook her head. “I can’t help but think that it’s dangerous to want to be something other than what you are. You may get exactly what you want.”
Fflar shrugged awkwardly. He was beginning to fear that he might not be the right person to hear out Ilsevele’s heartache, but that was his problem, not hers.
“Give him time, Ilsevele,” he managed. “He will remember himself, when better days are here.”
She gave him a half-hearted smile and brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “I hope they come swiftly, then,” she said. She gave herself a small shake and fixed her eyes on him. “Enough of my foolish worries. You still haven’t told me who you are, Starbrow. I think it’s time you stopped dodging my questions.”
“Starbrow is good enough.”
“No, it’s not.” Ilsevele faced him, her arms folded across her chest. “You know Cormanthor like the back of your hand. You are one of the most skillful warriors I have ever seen. You carry the last Baneblade of Demrona sword that my father kept safe for centuries. Where are you from? Do you have a family? How did you come to know my father?”
Fflar shook his head. “I told you once before, you’ll need to ask your father about that.”
“I am not asking him, I am asking you,” Ilsevele retorted. “I trust my father implicitly, but I won’t let you hide behind that blind any longer. We’ve shared deadly danger, and we’ve fought and bled together. I want to hear what you have to say for yourself.”
He did not try to meet her eyes. “It’s not my tale to tell.”
Ilsevele waited. Then, saying nothing, she turned and left the broken hall. Fflar sighed, and finished tending to his horse-he’d been done for some time, really.
“I don’t know,” she answered, a little more sharply than he might have expected. Fflar paused, brush in hand, and waited. After a moment, Ilsevele sighed and looked up to meet his eyes. “He said that he was going to start his search in the ruins of Nar Kerymhoarth. I suppose they’re exploring the Nameless Dungeon even as we speak.”
Fflar sensed something unspoken in her reply. Then he puzzled it out. “You wonder if your place is with Araevin, don’t you?”
“I am concerned for him. And the rest of our companions, too. But I do not doubt my decision, Starbrow.” Ilsevele returned to rubbing down Swiftwind. The small gray mare nickered in pleasure, and nuzzled Ilsevele’s back. “I am certain that we must not fight the humans of these lands, not if there is any chance of making peace.”
“If you are confident in your decision, then what troubles you?”
Ilsevele shook her fine copper hair out of her eyes and arranged her tack and saddle neatly on the ground. Then she looked away across the overgrown fields surrounding the old manor. Glimmers of sunset still played in the clouds high overhead, but the forest shadows were dark and impenetrable in the deepening dusk. “I know I am doing what is right, but … I didn’t want to go with Araevin.”
“Didn’t want to go with him?” Fflar frowned. “There is nothing to trouble you there, Ilsevele. You see your duty differently than he sees his. There is no fault in that.”
“That isn’t what I meant, Starbrow.” Ilsevele glanced over her shoulder at him, and looked away. He thought he saw the glimmer of a tear on her cheek. “Araevin has changed, and I am not speaking of the color of his eyes or the high magic in his heart. The last few months have awakened him from some long Reverie. I think I only really knew him when he was dreaming away his days in Evermeet.”
“Someone had to do what he did,” Fflar said. “It’s a good thing that he was the equal of the challenge, isn’t it? Without Araevin’s skill, his determination, I do not know if we could have beaten the daemonfey at the Lonely Moor.”
“I know. But have you seen how Mooncrescent Tower marked him?” Ilsevele shook her head. “I can’t help but think that it’s dangerous to want to be something other than what you are. You may get exactly what you want.”
Fflar shrugged awkwardly. He was beginning to fear that he might not be the right person to hear out Ilsevele’s heartache, but that was his problem, not hers.
“Give him time, Ilsevele,” he managed. “He will remember himself, when better days are here.”
She gave him a half-hearted smile and brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “I hope they come swiftly, then,” she said. She gave herself a small shake and fixed her eyes on him. “Enough of my foolish worries. You still haven’t told me who you are, Starbrow. I think it’s time you stopped dodging my questions.”
“Starbrow is good enough.”
“No, it’s not.” Ilsevele faced him, her arms folded across her chest. “You know Cormanthor like the back of your hand. You are one of the most skillful warriors I have ever seen. You carry the last Baneblade of Demrona sword that my father kept safe for centuries. Where are you from? Do you have a family? How did you come to know my father?”
Fflar shook his head. “I told you once before, you’ll need to ask your father about that.”
“I am not asking him, I am asking you,” Ilsevele retorted. “I trust my father implicitly, but I won’t let you hide behind that blind any longer. We’ve shared deadly danger, and we’ve fought and bled together. I want to hear what you have to say for yourself.”
He did not try to meet her eyes. “It’s not my tale to tell.”
Ilsevele waited. Then, saying nothing, she turned and left the broken hall. Fflar sighed, and finished tending to his horse-he’d been done for some time, really.
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