Author's Note: Surely I don't own anything or anybody, except for Adele Farlong, who was born (as well as the whole story) out of me toying with char's appearence on 'Create Character' list - when I discovered that one could actually make a white-skinned half-drow. Neat, huh? So, here she is, my Absolutely Neutral half-elven (rather, considered 'elven' ;-) Faithless swashbuckler/duelist with tiny bits of a bard (only tiny, wanted her not to know a thing about the arcane). Some occasional NPCs are also mine.

P.S.: English is FAR from being my native language, so have mercy for my slips if (when?) you come across any. And feel free to point the gravest ones out - I'll sweep the mess.

Also, all songs are not mine - but the translations are, so... no soul debt from me.

For now, enjoy. Please:)

Half of You, Half of Me

"The duel must end in utter defeat of one of the opponents. That is the right view of a battle. Because no matter what two powers are opposing each other – it always ends up to be a fight between the good and the evil. What side you prefer?" - "I prefer to win." ('Pathologic')

"Wise face is not yet a sign of wisdom, gentlemen. All stupidities in the world are done with exactly a face like that. So – smile, gentlemen, smile". (G. Gorin 'That very Münchhausen')

When a pessimist says "It can't get any worse", an optimist objects "Don't say that! Of course it can!" (old joke)

I: So Much for a Quiet Evening

She left her belongings in the room Duncan had given her and finally had a decent bath – the one she had been dreaming of in days on their way to Neverwinter. Now, standing in front of the mirror and trying to bring some order to her wet hair, Adele allowed herself for a change not to think about the godsdamned silver shards and double godsdamned githyanki.

She had had enough of those thoughts already.

And all that bothering never made a problem disappear, so why torture your nerves. I don't have that much of them.

How many of those beasts we've slew by now, anyways? You'd think them be smart, get a hint and leave us alone.

…Oh, yeah, right - no thoughts about them.

Adele stared at the reflection, trying desperately to comb her hair with her fingers - which was pointless, and she knew it.

She really wished to have normal hair, straight, sleek and docile, not this wild uncontrollable mop of white and black flocks, which seemed to have a life of their own sometimes. Life that mostly consisted of regular attempts to piss Adele off, to strangle each other or to break and devour combs.

With a sigh, Adele just bunched her hair to a thick shaggy tail high on the back of her head and praised herself with an exaggerated dazzling smile, which faded away quickly. She was rarely one for broad smiles. Although Derek used to tell her that her smile was charming, that didn't convince her in the slightest. After all, bards were bards until they said all those pretty things – but it was hardly a reason for taking their words seriously. Her own opinion was that a broad smile made her look as charming as a child. And she never felt like one.

Never in her life.

Say 'thanks' to Daeghun.

Being hardly tired enough to sleep, she spent some time sorting out her equipment, cleaning boots and brushing clothes, making bed, wandering around the room, watching the ceiling - until finally settled for whetting her rapier that needed no whetting at all. Adele figured that anything but the blasted shards would do - her back still remembered a cracking embrace of the wooden floor of the tavern, where she ended after the scrying of the silver rubbish, remembered well enough to kill any desire of touching or even seeing the magical junk.

For tonight, at least.

Eyeing the three-edged blade of her rapier, that almost looked to grow thinner from her diligence, the woman put down the whetstone with a sigh and looked around for any other mean of freeing unspent energy. After tendays of stomping through wilderness, dealing with bandits, undead and lizards, her whole body seemed to be perplexed with sudden peace. Having nothing better to do, she decided to indulge it, sheathed the rapier, hung it on the bed-post and headed to the main room of the 'Sunken Flagon' to see if any of her companions were still there – at least, her newly acquired uncle would be for sure.

Alas, the others had already left for their apartments for beautiful rest – or full-hearted snoring in Khelgar's case - so the room was empty apart from Duncan, Sal and some patrons deep in the corner. Without her leather jerkin, wearing only a thin tunic, Adele felt cold a bit and got closer to the fireplace, leaning forward from the sofa and pulling her hands out to the pleasant warmth of fire.

"Chilly, huh?" her uncle approached her, handing the half-elven woman a glass of heated wine. "There you go, lass. It's just raining outside, that's all. Neverwinter can be a real cold store, especially in autumn, if you ask me."

"Thanks," she took the glass and squeezed it in her palms, warming her fingers. Taking a sip and licking her lips, she nodded approvingly at the taste and observed absentmindedly all the trophies, hanging on the walls of the tavern. "You sure have a lot of interesting around here, Uncle."

"That I do. A lot of stories hang on these walls," he grinned. Adele found it sweet and amusing, the way Duncan seemed to be overjoyed by the fact that he was an 'Uncle'. His gaze also swept over his riches, and he sighed. "Not all of them are enjoyable, though. I could tell you all about it, but what's the point? No tension in such stories, since you know already that I survived."

She couldn't help but smile, taking another sip from the glass. The fire was cracking merrily and the hot wine was doing its job, filling her body with pleasant warmth, making her head light and empty and all her troubles not really worth bothering.

She didn't know what it was – fireplace, wine or Duncan Farlong – but Adele suddenly felt at home. More at home than in the house she grew up.

"So…" Duncan rubbed his neck, looking at her.

"Hmm?"

"…How is he? Daeghun, I mean."

"Oh," Adele stared into the glass, at the dark-ruby liquid. "Alright, I guess," she smirked bleakly. "As usual."

"I see," Duncan smiled. "Bet he told you less than nothing and just sent packing."

"..."

"Don't take it too hard. Did that to me twice in my life. As it turned out, always for the better."

"Ah, everything is for the better," she answered, shrugging slightly. "One way or another."

If it wasn't for all that'd happened, I probably never would have learnt of your existence, uncle…

"Now, that's a good view on life," Duncan smiled. "Well, Daeghun could have told you a lot of interesting stories, you know. But somehow I doubt he did."

Adele nodded, looking up at him and smiling almost gratefully for not inquiring about Daeghun too much. Not that she didn't like speaking of her foster father – it just always turned out that there was nothing to tell. And again, like the moment she first saw the half-elf, she peered into his face, searching for resemblance in two brothers. The resemblance was, but was that of a statue and a living being. Where Daeghun's face was a flawless elven mask, just as smooth and reserved, Duncan had outlines of wrinkles beginning to show in the corners of his mouth and eyes – wrinkles not of age, but of clearly frequent smiling. Besides, human blood made light bristle come up on his face, especially on the cheekbones near his slightly pointed ears. Upon the whole his appearance was shabby, if not baggy - but somehow that made him look even more alive.

Duncan sighed: "You know, before you handed that shard, I almost thought you came here to find out about your mother."

"…My mother?" she fell out of her thoughts, almost thrown out of there by his words. For whatever reason, her mother was always a forbidden ground in her conversations with… well, anybody. In her childhood, it made her feel a victim of a universal plot of silence.

"Yeah. Esmerelle. Well, considering those shards came to light again…" noticing her dark-cobalt eyes widen in surprise, Duncan blinked non-believably. "Don't tell me he gave you the shards and never mentioned Esmerelle!"

"No…"

"By the gods, sometimes I think it would've been better for you to be brought up by a pack of wolves! How did he happen not to crack in the middle yet, keeping all that things to himself!" the half-elf shook his head in frustration and sighed again, this time in a strangely heavy way. "Then again… he always has his reasons. He'll tell you someday, I'm sure."

"..."

"Now, lass, don't you look at me that way! It's his place to tell you, not mine. I mean it." He was silent for some moments, watching the fire. "You don't even remember her, do you," he muttered, almost to himself. "Of course you don't, you were a mere babe when she… when that war… She was always up to the mark, our Esmerelle. In a good way. Such a tragedy…"

Adele didn't say anything, watching him closely, and Duncan, clearly feeling uncomfortable under her gaze, looked around again, as if hoping to find something to distract his niece… and himself, probably.

"You've got a strange band with you," he managed finally.

"They really helped me out," she smiled, thinking of the three acquaintances that so quickly and easily became the most trusted people for her. It was hard not to develop respect and trust towards those who, knowing almost nothing about her, still were willing to risk their necks alongside. Her smile didn't last for long, though, as unpleasant memories started to creep back in her head. "With all those… things trying to rip me to shreds…" she looked at her uncle again. "You sure nobody came hunting for your shard?"

"Nope, nobody," Duncan shrugged. "Nobody I'm aware of, that is. Maybe your shard is special in some way… or some such…" he smiled encouragingly. "Don't you worry, lass. You'll get into Blacklake District and speak to that Aldanon fellow Sand mentioned – and it'll all sort out."

"Hope so," she finished her wine and passed an empty glass back to Duncan. "Thanks again."

"Not at all!" his smile grew wider. "Want some more?"

"Definitely," she admitted, shivering a bit and wrapping herself in her tunic, then sank deeper into the sofa and stretched her legs out to the fire. "Damn, it is chilly."

"You just wait for winter to come!" Duncan chided, going back to the counter and raising his voice, so that Adele could still hear him. "Well, we're in the North after all, what are we expecting…"

His words were suddenly cut off by the front door banging open, and the next instant in the whirlwind of raindrops there was a tall man swiftly entering the tavern. At his heels was a large wiry wolf, who stopped for a moment to shake water off his fur to the wooden floor, and then headed straight for the fireplace. His master passed the sofa on his way to the counter, without stopping or even looking flung his soaked bag in the corner and took off the hood of his cloak. Adele felt a sudden smell of smoke and wood and turned to look at the stranger curiously.

Worn leathers, a bow and a quiver behind his shoulder, a number of hunting knives, threaded down boots, some twigs and leaves caught in his grey-green cloak…

She was brought up by a ranger, so she had no problems identifying another one.

"As usual," he told Sal in a harsh, somewhat rusty voice, running his fingers through his dark close-cut hair, disheveled and sparkling copper in the firelight.

At that moment Adele heard a low growl and stared down at the wolf, who stopped near the fireplace, glaring at the woman. Carefully she pulled up her legs from the floor, and the animal at once occupied white space in front of the fender, placing his muzzle on folded forepaws.

"That's his place," the ranger deadpanned, without even looking at them, and almost in one gulp drained the mug.

"Actually, this here is my niece, Bishop," Duncan said pointedly.

The ranger's face, swarthy, shadowed with light stubble, but handsome – even despite the scars on his skin (or a bit even because of them, maybe) – remained impassive.

"And do I look like I give a damn about who it is?" he wondered at Duncan.

"Well, she is my niece, so you'd better give a damn."

The ranger leaned his elbow on the counter, studied Adele with a fleeting, but strangely piercing glance of bright-hazel, almost amber eyes, then shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to his ale: "Fine, let her stick around for a while. A few more drinks, and I might get interested."

Oh boy, - Adele thought with some kind of irritated amusement. – Red alert, everybody, we've got an asshole in the building.

"Uh-huh, I definitely will," she answered coolly to his back. "All my life've been waiting for some drunken tramp to pick me up."

He didn't even turn. "Figured that at first sight."

"Bishop," Duncan growled.

"Oh, shut up, Duncan," annoyance crept into his dispassionate scornful voice at the name of the barkeeper. "Let her be happy that I need only a few drinks."

"Aw, so that was a compliment," Adele cooed in mock delight. "So sweet!" her voice dropped back to ice. "It is a shame, really, that even after a few drinks you'll obviously be good-for-nothing."

"Professional opinion, I see," he nodded, still not looking at her, and before she could answer, added. "Now why don't you just shove off, like a good little nuisance."

Adele snorted, getting up from her place, and threw a questioning look at Duncan. He rolled his eyes in a telltale "don't-mind-that-bastard" way, and the woman, grinning knowingly in response, shot one last exasperated glance at the ranger's back, before leaving to her room…

Now hold a moment - "Bishop" was his name?

Smooth. Long-long time defrocked, I guess.