Chapter 1.
From Daeghun's memories.
… My foster daughter, Isbjörg, only now that I need to tell about her I realize that I almost did not know her. Odd, I can hardly decide where to begin. Perhaps I should say a couple of words about her real parents. It is not known to me who was her father. However, judging by Isbjörg's appearance he apparently was a sun elf. I assume Esmerelle, mother of Is, met him somewhere in the Icewind Dale. Probably, in memory of that bitterly cold place which meant so much to her she gave such "glacial" name to her daughter. When Esmerelle was alive she was a follower of Sune. Needless to say, as soon as Is found out about it, the question of faith was settled for her once and for all.
From her childhood she kept aloof from the others, partially because half-elves are a bit slower in their development than human children. Only a couple of years before she left West Harbor, Is built a relationship of sorts with Bevil when they, conditionally speaking, became equal in age. Poor lad would do anything for her, she had him wrapped around her little finger.
I never told her what was good and what was bad, when she was growing up, it was utterly useless. Such notions as good and evil did not exist for her. My daughter never acknowledged rules and laws. It is not a pleasant thing for me to say, but more often than not she did not take others into consideration, caring merely for her own wishes. And trust me, if she really wanted something, she always got the desired. By any means. I admired this trait, but her iron stubbornness with which she pushed her way through things was at times worrying, I must admit. I often wondered how having such an attitude to people Isbjörg nevertheless was able to receive anything she wanted from them? Perhaps, it was due to her strange, alluring charm which allowed her to manipulate nearly anyone. And perhaps such an egoistical attitude was for the best. Now I can see how far from her I was during those years. And if she had a different character she would probably have been distressed over it…
Together again?
…Flame of a guttering candle illuminated faces of those sitting at a table: a thirty-year-old man and an elven half-blood seemingly eight years younger than him. The man, apparently a ranger, was clad in torn leather armor; dried blood stains and dust covering him almost from head to toe denoted that he miraculously survived some terrible ordeal.
- Still, why have you got me out of this mess? – The ranger followed a maid passing by with his eyes and reclined in his chair.
The half-blood narrowed her eyes in a foxlike manner and shrugged her shoulders:
- Don't know. I simply followed my whim.
- Odd to see such a display of nobility in you. Were I in your place I would've left myself to rot in that damned Wall. Especially after I… - the ranger faltered for a splitting moment, - but surely you remember.
- Indeed, I remember, - the girl smirked and leaned her elbows on the table. – And I also can't forget your heartfelt speech in the Vale of Merdelain.
- Don't seem to recall, - grumbled Bishop gloomily.
- How it went, - Is assumed a theatrical pose and lifting her gaze to the ceiling said: - "I was thinking it would be as easy to hate you as I did Duncan, but I don't... at all."
- Enough, - Bish shot a sullen glance at her. – No need to continue.
Is rested her chin in her cupped hands and watched the ranger, silently jabbing his knife into the table's surface. It was a wonder how swiftly he regained himself after coming back into this world. And he hasn't changed. Not a bit. But did she really want to see him being different?
- And of course, you were thinking that I'd fall on my knees thanking you for my rescue? – Bishop critically looked at the contents of his mug and took a mouthful. Oof… and they called it ale! Only orcs brew such at the Sword Coast. –Don't hold your breath!
- And you, no doubt, were expecting that I'd throw myself around your neck begging you to stay with me? Come on! – Is waved her hand and let out an intentionally loud laughter.
- Hm. So, you don't want me... to stay? – Bishop glanced sideways at the half-blood.
- It's entirely up to you, - Isbjörg feigned blase indifference. – After all, you usually do whatever you want, go wherever you want, kill whomever you want. And no one dares to order you… Although, - she added after a thoughtful pause, - your notable skills would be of use in these wild lands.
A wry smile came to the ranger's face as he reached out his hand and tilted her chin up.
- You know what I was thinking all the time there?
- Pfft, - sniffed Is. – I have a guess. You've got only one thing on your mind all the time.
- I was remembering how much fun we used to have. First at the "Flagon", then at your Keep, - Bishop slowly ran his thumb across her lips. – And don't you think of saying you forgot.
The half-blood smiled slyly and said nothing. In the mean time "The Sloop" was filling up with visitors, and the air became stuffy. Drunken sailors engaged into arguments here and there.
- Alright, - concluded the ranger, - if I always do only what I want to, then I might as well stay. At least until tomorrow's morning.
…A warm wave enveloped Bishop as he entered the small room. After icily cold water of the lake Mulsantir it felt especially pleasant. The ranger looked around: "The Sunken Flagon" now seemed almost a palace in comparison with the local inn. Isbjörg was standing in front of a murky mirror; candle's gleam tinted honey-golden strands of her hair with copper. Having thrown his leathers which now were only good for patches onto the floor, Bishop moved in her direction. The half-blood didn't turn around at the quiet creak of floor boards – she knew these steps too well. Besides, there wasn't anywhere to hide from the mirror in this tiny room.
- You are all wet, - the girl shivered and laughed quietly when the ranger's prickly cheek touched her neck, and a few drops fell from his fair onto her slender shoulder.
His hand reached for her warm breast, brushing the edge of her gown aside. First thing to catch his eye was smooth, soft skin where the scar from the shard used to be. Bishop hemmed in surprise.
- I'll tell you later, - whispered Is, leaning into the ranger's embrace.
Some of you might wonder: what the hell? A ranger can't follow Sune! And we'd say: yes, they cannot. But Is is first of all an arcane archer, that is why we took the liberty of giving her this particular deity. If she was, for instance, a bard who later developed into an arcane archer, she would have been able to follow Sune, right? Then, in our case it is also possible. Besides, Bishop doesn't follow any deity at all, and according to D&D rules, a ranger MUST have a deity. This was a little digression ESPECIALLY for anyone who likes to nitpick.