Okay, this is fanfiction, meaning – more or less – that its purpose is to deviate from the actual story. It's not my fault if it doesn't make sense.

Also, please to remind yourself that this is a very young Porthios before you hit the OOC-button :D

Chapter One

When Porthios met Tress

Tressaloria Saltbringer couldn't believe her luck. It had been made very clear to her that sneaking into Qualinesti these days was damn nigh impossible; and when considering the general disposition of her own race, when even they said 'impossible', you could be sure they meant it. And still, here she was. Of course, dressing up as an elven child had helped. She had seen a party of elves passing through a village where she was staying once, and a keen memory combined with a dab hand at sewing and a flair for acting had paid off. Oh, and the fact that clothes elven children usually wore were rather wide and baggy; otherwise she would never have managed to hide some bits of herself. It was sneaky and not half as much fun as all the other methods she'd considered, but it was definitely more fun than being thrown out on her rump by testy elves. Plus, the disguise meant that she could walk undisturbed through the streets of Qualinost, leaving her free to marvel over its exquisite beauty and its streets that were teeming with life.

She noticed, as she approached the soaring turrets of the Tower of The Sun, how the elves around her were dressed even more fancily than before, although no one she had seen had looked dishevelled or poor. She'd never seen a city before that didn't at least have some dirt lying about in the corners, so that was for sure something new. On the other hand, her experience of pretty, cleanly cities like Qualinost was that people made a point of hiding said dirt very well, but it was still there

The houses were getting swankier too, with spires and small towers shooting out from them like fireworks, and carved flowers and assorted fiddly bits all over, like the icing on a cake. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she was rather hungry, but she growled right back at it. She could eat later. She could eat anytime, but it wasn't every day that you visited the capital of the Qualinesti elves.

As she got closer to the Tower of The Sun, entering the vast grounds around it, people started looking a bit oddly at her, and some frowned in stern disapproval. She supposed that this was a place where children weren't allowed to go. Or no, she didn't really think there was a rule against it, or someone would've stopped her. It was probably one of those strange almost-rules that humans, and probably elves too, seemed to be so good at; one of those cases where there was no actual rule, nothing so outspoken, but no one did it nonetheless because… because it was bad, or something. Like the rest of her race, Tress had never been able to grasp that kind of social norm, and therefore cheerfully ignored it. However, she didn't want to get caught, so she endeavoured to look like she had a really, really important mission to fulfil in this part of the city.

She succeeded, in a way; that is, she looked like a child convinced that she was doing something important. The elves that passed her smiled, thinking that she was a servant's daughter fetching something for her mother.

And so she slunk through gardens and plazas toward the Tower of The Sun, and had just started trying to figure out a way to get in, when she noticed a part of the huge gardens that appeared to be fenced in. Now, usually when people put up fences, it was because there was something interesting on the other side. It was, in fact, in itself a sign that it was worth the effort getting to the other side, and thus, Tress reasoned, people must put up fences because they wanted people to break in. Putting up a fence because you wanted to shut someone out was completely irrational; if no one made an effort to shut you out, it was probably not worth going there anyway.

Glad of this particular piece of logical reasoning – even though, truth to tell, she had a feeling that the people putting up the fence hadn't been very logical about it at all – she sucked in her stomach and crouched a bit to make her chest smaller, and with all her might pushed her body against the gap between two iron fenceposts. A not small amount of wriggling and some bruises later, she was through, and as she pushed away the lilac bushes obscuring her vision, saw what people had tried to bring attention to by putting the fence there.

"Wow…"

It was a very beautiful house, probably even more beautiful than all the houses in the city together. Tress didn't know it, but it was one of the many private residences that the family of the Speaker of the Sun owned. Of course they had their official residence in the Tower of The Sun, but the Speaker and his family, like all elves, felt more comfortable when surrounded by the forest they loved, and splendid as the Tower was, it was still… well, a tower, soaring far above the tree-tops. This house was embraced on all sides by the by elves so treasured aspen.

But as pointed out, Tress didn't know this. All she knew was that this was a house she just had to explore. And she would have, if not for…

A hand landed on her shoulder in a very firm grip. Acting on instinct, she bent her knees and twisted out of it, at the same time stepping away from the person so that she could get a clear view of him. Now, from Tress' point of view, almost everyone was ridiculously tall, but even she couldn't help noticing that the elf was rather tall for his race, and quite a bit more bulkily built too. There were warrior's muscles visible through the thin linen of his shirt.

"You are no child," he said, accusingly.

"What gave you a clue?" she responded cheekily, pushing out her chest toward him so that it was visible even though the folds of her clothes. Well, now that she was caught there was no need to beat about the bush.

He frowned. "You are a... kender?"

"Guilty as charged, and that's the first time anyone's ever heard me say that, so be proud." She chuckled at her own joke.

"How did you manage to get in here?" he demanded to know. "The city is out-of-bounds for your kind."

"Snuck in." She shrugged. "It wasn't that difficult. And I'm rather good at masquerading as a child as long as you don't get too close and personal."

He seemed to be rather annoyed, but also... curious? "But why?" Apparently curiosity won out. Good choice, Tressaloria thought. "Why did you come here?"

She laughed. "Because it's out of bounds, of course. I wanted to see what it was like. And it's a real pity you don't allow people here, you know, because it's really very beautiful. I actually heard that this was one of the places that the old gods used to love best. Do you think that is true?"

He blinked, obviously surprised. "Well, I... I do not know. I've never heard such a tale. We... do not speak much of the old gods," he said, looking saddened.

She shrugged. "Can't really remember where I heard it. Some old man I met a while ago, I think. He talked to trees, so he was probably insane, but I liked the story."

He nodded, and she thought he looked a bit indecisive, as if he couldn't figure out what to do next. So she smiled her sweetest smile at him, thinking that this would be a lot easier if she got him on her side.

"So, you never met a kender before, have you?"
"No... But I've been forewarned," he said with a small smile. She grinned at him.

"Oh, really? And you think that will help, do you?"

"Well, I hope so," he said, bemused. "I'm usually a fast learner."

"Not fast enough," she said with a grin and held up the elf's dagger, complete with sheath, in her hand.

"I... oh."

"Here." She handed the dagger back, smirking. "It's a party trick. Always gets a laugh. Or a punch in the face. But only if they're fast enough to catch me."

"I thought kender weren't supposed to be aware of doing that," he said a bit ruefully. "Isn't that the whole point?"

"Well, it will happen whether I want it too or not. But as long as I concentrate I can notice when it's happening, and decide what it is that I... uhm, purloin. Which allows me to avoid people's belts and, sometimes, underwear." She shrugged, a lopsided little grin on her face. "It's a gift, I suppose. Also, it saves me misunderstandings, so try to concentrate as often as I can."

"Oh. But that's unusual, is it?"

"Yes, I think so. Unless every other kender I ever met was a bloody liar. But I don't think so. Usually, we don't see the point of lies. Mostly because they are rarely more exciting than the truth anyhow."

"Oh..." He seemed to be struggle a bit with himself, and to judge from his expression he didn't win. With a bit of an uncomfortable shrug he then said, "Uhm... My name is Porthios, by the way. I am... I am the crown prince."

She raised her eyebrows, and then gave him a sudden extravagant mock bow. "And I am Tressaloria Saltbringer, your highness. But you can call me Tress, since I know it does not exactly roll off the tongue. Actually, more accurately you could say that it assaults your tongue in an alley and leaves it bleeding.

He laughed at that, and then tilted his head as an idea seemed to strike him. "You know, if we stay here, we might get seen, and then they'd probably throw you out. Wouldn't it be better if we... if we went somewhere outside the city? Because I have some... questions that I would like you to answer, if you don't mind. And I've heard," he smiled crookedly, "that your kind are rather good at coming up with questions as well, so it will be a fair exchange. What do you say?"

She laughed. "Fair's fair. Say, do you want your signet ring back?"

She stayed for a night in Qualinesti at his request; then for a week; then for a month. Before long, the two of them were close friends, without either of them knowing quite how it had happened. Impossibly, they just seemed to be perfectly relaxed in each other's company, and they could both make the other one laugh. Tress through her frankness, her blunt honesty and her sometimes absolutely absurd ideas; Porthios through his dry wit and sly jibes.

Tress kept hidden at his request, living in a rather nice cave not far from the city, and he smuggled out food and other necessities for her, knowing full well that she would use less honest methods to acquire them otherwise. They talked a lot, and she found to her surprise and pleasure that he confided in her; he even admitted that some of the things he would talk to her about were things he had never told a living soul before. She concluded that this must have rather much to do with that he had never met a kender before. She didn't think she was the kind of person that found it amusing to spill another's secret, but she knew she was the kind of person that still would. She couldn't help it, usually. She hadn't met anyone of her race that could. But as it was now, she had no one to tell.

She also realized soon enough that she was the only one in his life at the moment that didn't feel it was her obligation – because of love, concern or loyalty for their crown prince and their king – to convey everything he told them to the Speaker of the Sun. She was, amusingly enough, the only one he felt that it was safe to tell. And so she got to hear about his doubts and his fears, the dread that haunted him night and day; to not be the king that everyone seemed to think he was destined to be. She would give her opinion, and was surprised yet again to find that he didn't find her frank, often teasing remarks offensive. And, sometimes, when she found the gloom unbearable, she would interrupt him with stories of the world and the silliness of the people that lived in it, and he would take her rudeness in stride and be amused and cheered.

He also told her of his family. Of his father, Solostaran, who was often distracted, but never so distracted that he didn't have time to give his son an encouraging word or two. Of his mother, the lady Maearionelle, who was a kind, sweet woman with the wit like a knife. Of his little brother Gilthanas, who would hide from the servants set to watch them until they were driven to distraction, then come to them, chastised, to beg their forgiveness, only to do the same the day thereafter. Of his little sister, Lauralanthalasa, who so had charmed the entire court that she had them all wrapped around her tiny white fingers, which allowed her to do as she pleased in a manner most little boys did not.

He told her, sadly, of his new-born cousin, the half-elf Tanthalas who would have the heritage of a rapist and a murderer to bear when he grew up, and who would always know that his mother perished while she carried him into this world. Porthios seemed to think this unfair, unreasonable, yet Tress noticed that he did not seem to think that this could be in any way amended. She was not one for great philosophical debate – elves and humans could have that, for all she cared – so she said nothing about it.

Now, while Tress was a kender she was still more mature that Porthios, age-wise. She was thirty-one years old, and he was, if she was to be any judge of it, about the age for an elf that represented perhaps twenty years for a kender, and about seventeen for a human. And thus she had the advantage of being able to read certain effects she was having on him rather easily. She saw that he was attracted to her and also saw that he was ashamed of it. The latter puzzled her at first, but before long she recalled that elves and humans essentially regarded kender as children, and as far as she'd heard it was indeed true that being attracted to kender often was a symptom among their kind for the disease which sometimes made them attracted to children. She found individuals like that despicable, but Porthios was not one of them. Tress lacked the child-like frame that many of her kind possessed; now that she had her own clothes back, it was very clear from just one look at her that she was a full-grown woman, and Porthios did look. A lot. No, he was not attracted to her as a sick man might be to a child, but rather as a young man would be towards an older woman.

That was rather nice.

So one day she decided that there was no reason not to ask about it, something that unsurprisingly left him mortified and stammering, incapable to form an answer yet unable to pretend he hadn't heard. After a few more moments of watching him blushing and mumbling, she rolled her eyes and deftly swung her left leg around him so that she sat straddling him, meeting his green-eyed gaze with her own direct brown eyes. And as he squirmed under her, but not enough to remove her – and she knew he could; he was very strong and she very light – she laughed.

"Oh, really, what could be the harm in it?" she demanded, eyes aglitter with mischief. "You want to, I can tell," she shifted somewhat, and he inhaled sharply, closing his eyes, "and I certainly don't mind the least. You," she touched his cheek lightly, "are a disgustingly handsome man."

"It is not," he began, and then was interrupted by yet another playful little movement of her hips. He moaned. "It is not," he tried again, "appropriate for a crown prince to be…" A short gasp, and now he responded, moving against her. "…to be dallying…"

"It is not appropriate for a crown prince to sneak out and associate with a wayward kender either," she murmured teasingly, slowly setting a rhythm for their bodies. He didn't reply, at least not in words, and she reflected that the joy of having fingers that went everywhere on their own was how easily they could undo someone's clothes in a matter of seconds. Soon they were naked, rolling on the grass, and the sun that shone kindly down at them seemed to be of the opinion that there was nothing wrong with some light dalliance on such a lovely day; it was as if it rejoiced, and so did the two on the grass, in a way none of them had ever quite experienced before.

And then, months went by, and as the autumns painted the aspens in gold, they had their first real argument.

"You need to come to the castle," Porthios said hotly, glaring at her. "You cannot stay out here!"

"If I go to the castle," Tress said patiently, as if speaking to someone of lesser understanding, "they will throw me out of Qualinesti. I'm not supposed to be here in the first place, remember?"

"They will not if I vouch for you," he repeated stubbornly; he had said the exact same words three times before already. Finally, she didn't feel she could hold in the obvious answer to them.

"They will throw me out because you vouch for me, Prince of the Elves," she said rather sadly. "You said yourself, what we have done is not proper. They will want me out of sight and out of mind as soon as possible, before it gets out and people start questioning the man that is supposed to lead them one day. For the sake of his crown and his people, I don't think your father will have a choice."

"But it is dangerous for you to stay here! I saw what happened to Tanthalas' mother!"

And immediately her mood changed as she laughed heartily at him, and he was starting to hate the way she never could stay serious for even the shortest of time. "Dangerous? Don't be silly, Porthios! We kender have been giving birth on the roads, in the mountains, hell, on the backs of dragons since as long as anyone, even elves, can remember." Her hand went to the gentle curve of her now swelling stomach. "If I thought it really was dangerous, I would not stay here," she said sternly, but he could see the amused sparkle in her eye that told him that she was making fun of him, and he growled in frustration. She paid him no heed. "I know I will be fine. But I will not be," and here the sparkle died out, and she lowered her head, "if they throw me out. I won't be fine if they take me from you."

"And what will you do when the child is born?" he asked her harshly. "Stay here and hide, let our son or daughter grow up in a cave? I will not allow it to happen!"

She shrugged lightly, apparently unconcerned. "When the child is born, you can take me there. Do you think that your father, even for the sake of his kingdom, would banish his own grandchild after setting eyes on it even once?"

"No, but what would stop him from banishing you?"

"Take a mother from her only child?" she said, and there was something surprisingly dangerous in her tone. "I did not think anyone with any kind of heart to speak of would do that, let alone the king of a race that is said to cherish life above all things."

To that he had no answer, and so he backtracked. "And how will you stop me from telling them about you? I could do it now, if I wanted to. I might already have done it."

"I can't stop you," she said in an infuriating sing-song voice, "but you won't do it because you know I'm right."

He opened his mouth to retort, but found no words, and so he turned on heel and stormed out of the clearing. But as soon as he was out of sight he stopped, listening. She was singing, a tune he recognized as a human lullaby, and he closed his eyes in pain. Why couldn't she understand? For a brief moment when she had told him she was with child, he had felt joy, but the next second the joy had been eaten by fear. He was to have a child! It was a terrible thing to be able to lose.

But she sang her songs and laughed at him, and he could see she was as happy as he could not allow himself to be, for fear of the hole that happiness would leave in him if he lost it. She didn't feel fear like he did, he reminded himself, and how he envied her for it. And he also knew she was right. Perhaps, with the babe in his arms, he would be able to convince his father that what he had done couldn't be undone, and any attempt to do this would be cruel and foolish. If Solostaran saw only a pregnant kendermaid, defiant and uncouth, it would be too easy for him to banish her. And Porthios could not let it happen. He would not. And so the months passed…

She survived the winter, just as she had said she would. She had him block the cave mouth with branches and bring her blankets, fleeces and plenty of firewood. He still thought it looked like she lived like the most destitute pauper, but she claimed that it was a home fit for a king. Fit for a new prince or princess, too, she added, and stroked her belly with a laugh. He didn't reply, just checked for the fourth time that the sheltering branches in the cave mouth would hold.

And then the spring came to Qualinesti, brining flowers and soft, warm air, and just in time too, for now Tress could barely walk anymore. Porthios thought she looked a bit disproportionate, her belly swelling out far too much, but he consoled himself with that he'd never seen a pregnant woman up close before – children were too precious to the elves for a woman to even venture for long out of her home during the last months of the pregnancy – let alone a pregnant kender. And she still laughed, still sang her songs, and she told him it would be fine; she was feeling great, and the way the child kept kicking her suggested that he or she was feeling rather fine as well.

And so, as he arrived at the clearing one to find that it was empty, and she didn't answer when he called, he was mostly irritated, thinking that she was playing some kind of game with him. It was only when he found her lying in the cave, saw the mess of blood on the blankets, realized how white her face was… It was only then he realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

Drama galore! Oh my...