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Indril felt the wet, sticky dough under her slender fingers. Baking, she never would have imagined herself doing this only months ago, yet here she was, her face dusted with flour, ebony hair streaked with drying crumbs of water and flour that had caught on the edge of her hair line. A smile she had not held on her lips for nearly a year turning up the corners of her mouth as she worked each bit of dough into small hand sized balls ready for the oven. She found the kneading to be her favorite part. It allowed her time to think, to plan her next move, to… Indril’s hands still caked with half kneaded bread stopped in their work. Something familiar was near. It had been nearly a year since she had felt it last, but she could not be mistaken in this. The feeling was there, tightening her heart like a silver chain wrapped to close to the skin. East. She needed to head east.

Hastily discarding the now trivial bit of flour and water she had so delicately and carefully been kneading only moments ago Indril pulled her hair out of its leather tie, splashed her face and hair with water until it ran clean and tying the wet locks back up into a tail headed to Eliza’s shop to fetch a few things from her depot on her way out of town. Retrieving a set of daggers, and her old leather traveling gear, Indril did not waste another moment, heading straight for the nearest town gate and out into the wilderness east of Trollsbane. The feeling was too strong to wait. She could not risk losing it now that she finally had a hint of a place to start. She would worry about having not left a note later. She would worry about the possibility of bandit attack as it came. She would not spare a moment to consider she might have needed to take a supply of food along, or even a camping tent. Her mind was set instead on much less practical things.

She began to wonder, only after hours into this sudden journey, why she had not felt anything sooner. She had been stationary for weeks now. If the source was so close that her heart hurt with only a moments concentration, why was it that only now she had noticed? Had she been forgetting? Was perhaps the motivation for all this time away from the elven lands, all the nights of worry and heartache, all her travels waning? She let the thought slide into her consciousness, was the council right all that time ago? Shaking her head and passing through another thick cluster of trees Indril let the thought die. No they had not been right. This feeling along proved they were at least partially wrong. He had not been dead as they claimed. If their declarations had been true this pressure on her heart would not still remain. If the council had been right, if he had died, the ache would have passed away with its originator, not festered and grown all the heavier for want of knowing where he was. No her love laden heart would have been free of worry if the man who held the silver chain to her soul were still alive, such was the heirlooms power. Tied until the love faded, or the lover died, a soul chain was never wrong, and it never failed to bite into one’s heart if the loved one were near. Such certainties were why these chains were so prized and rare; the magic and silver smithing expertise needed for such a trinket was above even the majority of elven crafters skill.

Decades of training as a ranger, training Indril never truly finished, at least to her mentors standards lead her light steps along forest paths, brought to her tipped ears the tell tale sounds of nearby wolves and knolls, gave her eyes the small hints that indeed someone had recently been in the forests camping, and perhaps most important, the scent of elven leather, giving her a certain surety that who she now tracked was just who she had been searching for here in the human lands since her departure more than fourteen months ago. That parting from all that was familiar, the last embrace of her kin, their forlorn faces, which said without words that after this journey there would be no returning home, and the final gift from her father, the last silver link in her soul chain, the small bit of precious magic and metal that allowed her to more easily track the remaining fifty six pair of interlocking twists, comprised of silver, blood, and oath. The long necklace which was now east of her, perhaps no more than a day’s and night’s journey at best if she was lucky and the weather held.

Indril cursed herself later, knowing full well she should not have counted on luck. Half a day’s journey from Trollsbane while resting under a conifer tree the clouds let loose a torrent of rain drenching her in its fury and forcing the young elf up into the tree for shelter. Her blue-green eyes cast up disapprovingly at the gray sky above as she perched in her make shift camp listening to the patter of droplets hiss against her slowly burning out fire nearly four yards below. She found her eyes closing; she started to drift into meditation, deciding the rainstorm was as fine a time as any to truly rest. As she began to drift into a semi-conscious state of active dreaming she faintly heard the delicate whistle of what seemed at first to be the wind between trees high up in the mountains. Almost completely consumed by her lucid dreaming it took her several hours to place the sound as not wind in tree branches, but the fine notes of an elven flute, the mate of her own flute if she were not mistaken.

Blue-green eyes opened in sudden recognition; the lithe elfess dropped from her pine tree perch, her soft leather boots moving over the moist forest floor with a far quicker pace than the hours previous had found her traveling. Indril almost skipped now, giddy in a very unrestrained manner, in her heart knowing she was close, so close, to learning why he had never returned, why the council had been unable to find him, what had compelled him to stay away in the human lands so long, away from her love and the joining ceremony that was to follow upon his return. She was certain the answers were near. Perhaps just over the next small hill, behind a nearby crop of trees, beyond the tall boulders just past her vision. The flute notes hours earlier, drifting through the rain to her half-conscious ears had given Indril the bearing she needed. She was close.

The campfire smoke was her first sign that she was near the end of her travels. Downwind of the camp she could also tell that he was indeed within the confines of the tan tent pitched between two pines. There was another scent however which confused her and gave caution to her next steps. A human was at the campsite as well and probably female by the delicate floral fragrance. She stopped her progress, trying to keep the incriminating thoughts from her mind. It was probably just a hunting party he had joined, or a bard troupe, she had simply not caught sight or scent of any other members yet. Her mind twisted the small facts she had gathered from the far off distance she currently held into something her rational mind knew was not plausible, but her heart wished for with every beat.

Her time in Trollsbane thus far had certainly shown her that it was not uncommon for elven folk to find company in the arms of human kind. Indeed the practice seemed almost common and made her wonder just what the appeal was. It was true that some men were fair enough in face and deed, and they had a certain passionate quality an elven lord was pressed to match, still she did not see the cause for such widespread attraction. Indril had met few men thus far that did little more than turn her head, but idly she supposed that with a heart bond in confident love it was hard to find anyone but one’s lover attractive.

Returning her gaze to the camp once more she finally spotted her quarry. Eyes like new spring leaves, hair the color of well turned earth, skin just kissed with the golden hues of the sun. Her breath caught for a moment, as it always had when she looked upon him, but was let out in a gasp when the woman stepped out of the tent beside him wearing no more than the cream colored cloak hemmed with runes that was his most prized garment. She did not seem to Indril remarkable, golden hair, blue eyes, tanned skin like that of a person often found on farmland or field. Nearly half a foot shorter than the elfess, the only thing truly outstanding about this human lass was the large belly protruding under her bared breasts, the characteristic curve of an expectant woman unmistakable so far along in pregnancy.

Her mind began to spin more outlandish explanations, he had been hired to protect this woman, or perhaps he was nursing her back to health. She was nearly able to convince herself of the validity of these things when all her hopes fell with the passing of a moment. He leaned that tall lean form over the woman’s shoulder and laid a lingering kiss upon her lips. As he smiled Indril felt something akin to a jagged dagger blade send a throbbing pain to her very core. Her chest felt heavy, the air too thin to breath; her eyes were blurred, stinging, and hot with the salty tears that promised to any moment glide down her pale cheeks. Deeper inside, in that hidden place hard to describe with mere words, the ‘chains’ around her soul seemed to shatter with what she imagined to be an audible snap. It made her body shudder slightly, and she saw him stagger with it as well.

There was a soft tinkling; her eyes watched the delicate silver chain fall from around his wrist as the physical representation of their oaths cracked as well. He looked down at the fragile string of jewelry, sliding an arm casually around the fair-haired woman, Indril looked away as he glanced up, clearly looking for the cause, no doubt in his heart knowing the answer already for the enchantments end. He lowered his head murmuring a few words against the golden hair, the woman went back into the tent, seemingly to pack up. His lips twitched as he looked over the forest once more. Indril heard the whisper of elven words carried on the wind, his voice saying in the low tone she had once swooned for “I’hin, ta haba. Amin hiraetha…Indril.”

The words repeated themselves in her mind hours after they had packed up the camp and left. Hours after she had crossed the last bit of distance between herself and what had been his camp. Hours after she had knelt, the tears now flowing unceasing down her pale cheeks, to retrieve the precious heirloom now in need of minor repair. They remained with her a day later when she was able to lift herself up and turn back towards Trollsbane. Ran through her mind like a mantra while her heart scarred over and her eyes lost the capacity for any more tears. Whispered, half remembered, as if it were a long forgotten song when she finally returned to her baking, ruined from the near week of intendance her sudden departure had caused it. Days later finally fading to only haunt her during moments of meditation, interrupting her rest with its low tone.

The child, its mine. I am sorry…Indril. Such a small thing to lose one’s heart and a piece of one’s soul over.

She appeared out of nowhere. Dozens of times now he's taken this road from the south gate further south but never saw anyone at the farm, and...

oh... what a sight.

She was covered in dirt and pieces of crumbled grain, an elfess, so dirty he'd almost confuse her with a very scrawny human. It's the ears that gave it away. His sensitive nose picked up that she smelled like cooking, and he was hungry. She was standing in the middle of a soil field, with her wheat rising high, ready and ripe, a scythe in her hand, looking at the few bundles of wheat she had already cut.

She had no flail on her.

...

He appeared out of nowhere. Half of his face painted black, long thick hair falling down his shoulders, hazel eyes. Armed to the teeth with a variety of knives and daggers strapped to his belt, two swords and a shield on the back buckle; surprisingly he didn't look like a warrior. More like someone trying to play it.

How is this farming adventure going, young miss?

She blinked, arching a brow.

Alright, I suppose.

He bowed dramatically, intricately extendng his arm, throwing his hand to the side away from his chest, as his feet artistically crossed in a greeting. A professional gleaming smile shined with cheerful delight.

I bid you a great day. Say, would you care to explain what you're going to do with that wheat? See, I'm greatly interested in farming as well, it's a curious hobby to have.

The elfess shrugged, moving a hand over the still growing wheat.

Well. First I need a flail to grind it into grain, and the stubborn halfling is refusing to deal with me for less then thirty coins. But he also refuses to buy anything I can offer to trade.

What have you got?

Fish. A salmon and a trout.

Well, that's a start, - he smiled - how about I buy them? But with one condition.

What's that?

Answer my riddle.


With some work and a bit of luck she had found the answer. He bought her a flail and together they worked through the day. He forgot about where he was going, he even forgot for a few hours about his charming teacher and her quest.
Over the next few weeks they were becoming friends... at least that's what he felt inside.

It had been months now, and looking out the tavern window hands loosely tying up her long ebony hair, Indril wondered how much longer this small city would continue to hold her interest. It was not the location that kept her. This town was much like the others she had long passed through. Questing as she had been, to questions now answered the scars still evident in heart, mind and soul. No not location and certainly not the weather. Blue-green eyes again looked out the smoked windows at the small snowflakes falling onto newly thawed earth. No, not the weather, it was the people, men mostly but also one or two women she had met and found to be quite interesting worth staying for, at least for now. Generally speaking, the inhabitants of this town seemed to completely ignore her presence, save for a handful still curious, or perhaps just well mannered enough, to say a greeting in passing, or begin polite conversation when they happened upon her at some errand. No it was not these typical city dwellers she had decided to stay for. They made this Trollsbane like any other town she had passed. It was those rare few, that handful that held her curiosity, which kept this place just interesting enough to hold ones attention more than the thoughts of leaving. She realized now, watching the snowflakes begin to melt, replaced instead with a light rain that she was almost growing to enjoy her time here. Trollsbane was beginning to wash away memories of other towns, of other peoples not far different from these, much as the rain was now washing the smoke and dust from the tavern windows. They were a curious lot. She enjoyed answering their questions, joining their haphazard quests, even sharing a laugh or two at the expense of some, more pretentious town folk. Many of which she found to her dismay were her own kin. They too were different from those she had known before; they all seemed to fall, the elves she found here, into one of three categories. The first, being that of the mysterious outlaw, dangerous, and so very appealing to those of the other respected races of this isle. The second, she found was most often the lost love or those hunting for that lost love, of which she was bemused to find she herself had fallen and perhaps still did fall into. The third for the most part she considered to be those who were curious of the outside world, or perhaps fed up with their own kin. Regardless of the type of which they fell into, none seemed interested much with the company of other elves. Indeed she did not know even one, nor had she heard of a single couple that held dear to them their own race. They fancied humans almost exclusively, and if it was not human women, oddly it was other elven men. Which brought her to a new thought, he had asked of the chain. Few people noticed it, even fewer asked after it, and only two now knew its significance. Indril looked out at the rain, fingering the fine silver chain, now mended thanks to a friendly blacksmith with a half black face and wondered what her answers to those questions he had asked might mean in time.

* * *

"So," - one time he explained to her sitting on the log by the fire while chewing a piece of rabbit, artisitcally waving the rabbit leg in the air, - "Like I was saying, I call it the Gobaith Syndrome. The interracial attraction. See, humans, we don't last long. It's not ours to live forever, our time span is limited and we value every moment of it. We're as impulsive as it gets. All the passion, none of the boredom. A typical elven lass of your age, can, say... switch 100 human boyfriends in her entire lifetime. Sure they die and at first it's really sad, but on your 20th time, you get over it... you know..."

He kept chewing, offering her a piece remaining from the nearly finished rabbit. She refused again, for the third time, for she was already stuffed with the previous rabbit he gave her and was at absolute awe how this man can consume 3 rabbits in one sitting without either growing bunny ears or throwing up.

"I mean honestly, my opinion. Elves are lords to men. You're the most refined, the finest being of humanoid kingdom. You don't sleep, you walk on snow leaving no footprints, you don't sweat, don't barf, you handle alcohol like water, you have perfect vision, hearing. Graceful, slow, temperate. All the life time in the world. And what do you do with it?
This is precisely what attracts elves to human mates. Our filth, dirt, imperfection. The nightly cries fo passion, moisture spraying lips to lips, the blood and the scent of a heated embrace, the squeeze of a hip and a bite of the breast - wet, rough, sweaty, savage, the way only a human would do it. We make love with all our heat, work with all our strength, fight till we break all the bones. We know no temperance for the most part, we're down to earth, uncontrollable, raw. You know what I mean?"

He was now done with his dinner, wiped his face and started cleaning it in the bucket he brought from the river. The bucket had her name carved on it. He smiled to that fact as he dove in and held his face in the bucket, and opening his eyes, could read "Konrad and Indril Crafts" on the bottom. He blinked a few times into the water, moisturing his eyelids.
Diving out he huffed like a horse, shook the water off, a few droplets landing on her, and dried with a towel, after which he carefully started applying paint to his face again.

"And see, with humans are attracted to the exact opposite thing. Look at human lasses. They like the exotic, the different. City boys don't amaze them. If not a gypsie torch juggler, it's gotta be the tall pale pretty face elf. Well endowed seven inches in length to go deep, or maybe just the one with pretty lips and thin muscles. Dry, always gentle, clean, considerate, very little to no sweat, no cursing... I personally think... why? Is it because they simply aren't as passionate of a lovers? Given enough sex you'll still work yourself up, it's just harder with you elves. But still... humans life you for the perfection that makes you different from us. You like us for imperfection.

Who knows?"

He looked at her, than into horizon.

"Perhaps my fate is sealed to fall to the Syndrome as well."

Heading south now from the desert, the scorpions having been less than useful in her pursuit of poison for the latest batch of raven fletched arrows she was in commission to make Indril found herself in the Eastern woods, the terrain remembered only in snatches of blurred memories she had tried to forget. He had been here with the woman, the signs were clear to her now. Much easier to follow than they had been when she first sought him out still smitten with an enduring love for the now distant elf lord who had once possessed her mind, body, and soul. She remembered those days spent in this wood searching for small signs, following her heart, mind clouded with outlandish thoughts colored by the desperate love she had then felt. There was a laugh held just behind her lips as she picked out their tracks with ease now. The remnants of a campfire not far from a day old trail. It would be too easy to find him now. Was his new life making him careless, or had she been so overcome with emotion the last time to see clearly?
Morbid curiosity took over Indril’s senses, and she changed from her course, thinking that a few more hours away from Trollsbane would hurt no one, in truth few noticed when she came and went to begin with so the time was hers to waste on foolish errands and folly hunts for glimpses of the past. Moving quietly, blue-green eyes catching each small detail of their scarcely hidden passage Indril wondered with some trepidation if the woman had by now given birth, and if so, who’s eyes the babe would have. She could not understand in her own mind, why such a thought caused such unease save perhaps that at one point in her earlier years, still a member of her father’s home then and newly love struck she had many a visional reverie of a child from his seed bore in her own arms. In these half-imagined fancies she had seen the babe’s eyes quite clearly to be a solid green, not a mix of blues and greens as her own eyes were, a color she never truly liked, as it had set her apart making her uneasy with her kin. Those same eyes now caught sight of the small camp; tent much the same as she had seen it months earlier. There stood the small human woman, tending a small fire, over which sat an iron cooking pot. Upon her hip rested a small bundle, which occasionally wiggled an arm or leg, the babe who had been born.
Curious beyond caution now Indril stealthily climbed a nearby nalor tree, resting upon a branch, she looked over the cozy encampment in search of the absent father before returning her gaze to the infant. How long she pondered the little halfling was hard to say, it had already been darkening on the horizon when she first climbed the tree, and now the tell tale sound of crickets would indicate well past dusk. There was a crack of twigs first, then closer the rustle of leaves, and now just below her perch, the low tone that had once sent her heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.
“Mankoi naa lle sinome?” He asked in their tongue, green eyes no longer so dazzling, more the color of dying grass rather than spring leaves, they had faded in the time that had passed, but still they looked upon her with an anxiousness, or perhaps eagerness ‘Why are you here?’ he had wondered aloud. Indril licked her pink lips, thinking of how to explain. He spoke again before she could. “Lle maa quel.”, his head ducked when he said it, brown hair not so crisp or vivid as it once was, merely brown, not the deep earthen color it had once been, fell over his face for a moment hiding what expression he might have betrayed with the comment. ‘You look well’.
“Amin quel.” There was a small smile on her lips now as she answered ‘I am well.’ He glanced back up at her, Indril continued to speak, her voice now flowing like a song in her native tongue “Amin caela tula ele i’hin. Uuma dela, amin uuma merna rashwe, ere’ tula ho.”, it had been months since she had spoken so many words in her elven language, and yet they rang clearly in the quiet forest, and with far more elegance than their common translation, ‘I have come to see the child, don’t worry I do not want trouble, only to see him.’ Nodding once, he too looked to the campsite.
They stayed their silently for a time, unable to fill the silence with small talk as a human pairing might have in such a meeting. They let the quiet linger, stretch between them, it may have been uncomfortable for some, but both were used to silence and were thus unconcerned. Finally Indril asked the one thing that had kept her up in the tree so long; she asked after the color of the infants eyes, “Ho elee?”, two simple words ‘his eyes?’ She waited quite a while for the answer, not speaking a word. Finally with a soft sound, no less than a whisper, a response came, strangely in the common tongue. “They are blue.”
After that she had not stayed any longer. He had wished her to stay. He had wanted to speak with her at length, to explain perhaps how things had turned out as they had. She shook her head to his requests and turned her back on the Eastern woods. She no longer cared what explanations he might have had. There were no words in elven or common that would heal the tears in her soul, nor did she wish to hear them if there could have been. It was he who was left with pain this time, he who would suffer with the choice that was made.
Indril’s leather boots brought her to the south gate of Trollsbane, later in the night than she would have expected. She choose to stay for a time outside the walls, almost able to make out, at least what she imagined to be a cooking fire, and just beyond a tall elven man with dark brown hair, holding a plump blonde woman, a baby between them. As she closed blue-green eyes to the star filled night, she could almost see a tear slide down a tan elven cheek, there was some comfort there, comfort that the thorns that came with broken love could truly sting even the breakers heart.

.... 1 year and 3 months later...

"You're a good woman, I'm a good man,
Though I do merely what every man can.

Pledging my heart, I want to have yours,
When I lay eyes on you everything blurs.

Beautiful girl, I must have you for keeps,
Must lay my kisses on succulent cheeks.

I want to capture you, pick like a rose,
Drink like a pure stream that quietly flows.

My games are over, I'm tired of lies,
Take me, my elfess, take me by surprise,
Take me through times both of peace and of stryfe,
Take me forever, take me for life.

Give me your trust, your patience, your care.
Give me your body, your breath and your hair,
Give me your everything, this is no test.
Your game is over, you must be possessed.

Thank you for everything you have made true,
All that we harvested, all that we grew.
For all these insane unforgettable nights,
Cries in the mirrors, embraces so tight,
Steam on the bath walls, and clothes all torn,
Cries from our lips, moans so sinfully born.
Twilight and moonlight would not wake the town,
Ours is a flame that cannot be put down.

Dive into water, I'll swim like a fish,
Run, and I'll follow wherever you wish.
Crawl in the swamps, and climb over rocks,
Hide all you like - can't escape Konrad Knox!

You sway your hip, I will see miles away.
You drop a hair, I'll track it down like my prey.

I will cross forests, I'll run through the fields,
I will break swords and ram through the shields.
Turn into flower, I'll turn into bee,
No matter how hard you try, you won't lose me.

I will not leave you, no matter how dire.
You have awakened my sleeping heart's fire.

You'll say 'protect me', - I'll die for the cause,
Or make my enemy die in my claws.
I'll find the right path, I will not go wrong,
I'll break resistance, no matter how strong.

You know, Love, I finally now understand...
I'll stand beside you, wherever you stand."

He finished the freestyle song, picking the last cords on the lute.


...


"So good to have you, my Indril. You know, so many things unite us, spiritually, I mean."
A smile was showing on her face, though her eyes still kept tears. His chain was resonating with a vibe of pure emotion coming from her heart.
"So, would you like to announce our wedding? When? I'd think before winter strikes, or maybe right after it's over, I like green better than white... And who would marry us? Who would know us two and our connection better than anyone?" He thought back to the mission of the Five, but kept it quiet, thinking the idea nearly impossible....
"It would have to be someone very special, what do you think?"

Sitting by the fire, sawdust still lightly covering her pants and parts of her tunic, Indril’s blue-green eyes gazed into the orange glow before her, reflecting on the many events around her. To her left Konrad shouted encouragement to his new apprentice and gave the occasional demonstration of the correct way to parry or strike at an opponent given ones current position. At the carpentry tables, practiced hands smoothed over a set of handles the fellow there had been working at for some time now. A ways off at the depot familiar voices discussed the trade of the day, a lizard tailor and something to do with a white cape for Faladron and Fianna’s admiring thereof. Indril pressed her lips together for a moment, closing her eyes to suppress a futile thought, the delicate chain encircling her left arm bringing a number of feelings all at once to her heart, she sighed thinking how many paths she might have taken and shook her head a moment to clear it. Pulling the pendent from the folds of her tunic she held it carefully in her grasp, gazing at the blue stone therein, calming her breathing, and even slowing her pulse as she contemplated the tranquility and light within that gem.



She did not know how long her eyes had been gazing off as they were, into that space in between, but after a few blinks she was certain the glowing within them had ceased, the prayer as it was, seemed to have been answered with the simple now white glow from the necklace she wore. Gradually the sound of her surroundings pierced the peace of her meditation and her gaze fell again on Konrad, still sparing, a half smile on his painted face, the delicate length of elven chain round his neck, silver seeming to shimmer in the light. She could feel it there, cool against his skin, as their counterparts were cool around her arm. Smiling quietly she stood up from her prayer and went to him, sharing privately what had transpired.

Northern wind was quivering the sea below them, the tide crashed endless waves against the cliffs. Indril and Konrad stood on the rock looking over the waters, tightly in each others' warm embrace. They felt no cold from the wind for their hearts beat together, their breathing made them warm. Listening to each other's breath, the two creatures of different species listened to the silent yet deafening tune of their love.

It was well past sunset and closer to midnight, their prayers were heard as they each talked to their favored Gods. Her amulet started glowing faintly as he felt the bow behind his back respond with a pulse and a faint glow. Eldan and Findari were watching over them, the will of the Five brought them together, and they were grateful to be blessed by it. They knew Tanora, Bragon and Ushara were also with them, for around them was Water, the moon reflected the Sun's fiery gaze, and the rock they stood upon was Earth.

The soul chain, now wrapped around them both, his neck and her arm, was singing its song of silver, air, and love, as its divided parts united extatically kiss after kiss.
That night her took her, again and again, in the beauty of the night. Gods know they weren't cold. And Gods know was she beautiful that night. She gave herself to him completely, and he took it all. Their lips exhaled moist mist.

Behind their backs, a blue glimmer, same shade as their pulsing, vibrating items - a glitter of moonlight appeared on the water, from the rocks to the very horizon, a trail of blue shining light. Alas they did not see it, for they were consumed entirely by each other, but they did not have to see it. They knew. Their time would come very soon.