(( Author's note: This is a story I've had floating around in my head for a while, and I'm very excited about seeing where it goes. Characters and events are based off of a storyline on the Emerald Dream server; I can't take credit for the characters of Valandris, Tamm, or Symion, or their creative genius. I can only do my best to share it. Enjoy ))
Goldshire was a small town, with neatly-built houses spaced comfortably along the cobbled roads and tired old horses tethered in front of each. While self-sufficient in its own right, with most material comforts readily at hand, most chose to turn to nearby Stormwind for their needs. Indeed, next to the grand capital city, Goldshire paled in comparison in everything but its specialty brew. The ale attracted people from lands far away: the occasional Dwarf or even Night Elf could be seen at the Lion's Pride Inn, chatting with the amiable Innkeeper Farley.
Night was falling and the usual crowd of farmers and adventurers and ne'er-do-wells stamped along the wide road leading to the Pride. The sound of merriment and the occasional brawl drifted out into the night air. Tonight, there was quite a crowd gathered inside. A drunken Dwarf danced on a table, singing in his own tongue while swinging around a dangerously full mug of ale. The contents occasionally splashed onto one of the audience, who, being drunk themselves, laughed and cheered the dancer on.
In the corner was seated a lady who looked decidedly set apart from the rest. She sat very straight in her chair, with hands that looked like they had never seen a day's work clasped primly on her knees. Her clothing was a fine make: silks and velvets of a rich purple hue, the likes of which were the distinct pride of the finest tailors in Stormwind. Rich copper hair flowed down elegantly to her shoulders, accentuating fair skin and intelligent blue eyes.
Most seemed to be intimidated by her sophistication, keeping their distance and making no untoward advances. Thus she remained quite alone in the little corner until a man shouldered through the crowd and, with a small, almost mocking bow, seated himself beside her. He was a tall, wiry sort of fellow, with decidedly handsome features partly concealed by a neatly-trimmed goatee.
"Symion Turindale, at your service," he said with a nod, lips curling into a smile.
Returning the smile, she extended a dainty hand with all the air of nobility, saying, "Valandris of the House Arinian."
His smile froze momentarily before he settled back comfortably in his chair. Apparently he did not feel compelled to say any more, nor did he show any sign of being impressed at her title--much to Valandris' annoyance. The crowd continued to grow until people pressed in on all sides, bumping into the chairs and sending them crashing back into the walls.
One man collapsed onto the chair beside Symion, grinning blearily at nobody in particular. His breath smelled heavily of rank liquor as he stood waveringly and announced in a cheerful voice, "Shtormwind's gonna get b-blowed up! Happy new year!" He thrust his mug into the air as though in a toast, then staggered merrily away into the crowd.
"It would serve them right," said Symion under his breath. Catching Valandris staring at him, aghast, he smiled thinly and looked away. What followed would have been an awkward silence, save for the raucous din that pressed in on all sides. At length, Valandris ventured stiffly, "That is a terrible thing to say."
"Yes, it is," returned Symion brightly, tossing her a careless smile. It was not returned. Looking away again, he spied a familiar figure standing not far away. "Tamm!" he called out, rising to his feet and waving a hand in the air. "About time you showed up. Stop skulking about and say hello to the lady."
The man who approached was taller than even Symion, and considerably more well-built. His skin was dark and his hair darker, the latter of which being brutishly groomed and falling a bit wildly about his angular face. He wore mismatched armor and had in his hands a large mace, carrying it much like a child fondly totes about a favorite toy. His features were unimpressive: a wide nose above a wider mouth that was set in a stern line. Indeed, as Valandris took in his appearance, it seemed that the only thing that set him apart from a slow farmer in stolen armor was his eyes. Long and green, they too were stern, penetrating, and keenly intelligent.
He bowed slightly to her. "I am Sir Tamm Tosscobble, ordained paladin of the Holy Light," he said with distinct pride in his voice. After Valandris had been introduced (Tamm seemed no more impressed by her title than his friend had been), Symion motioned to a chair. Tamm refused it in favor of standing against the wall. He seemed rather ill at ease, occasionally shrugging his broad shoulders beneath the heavy armor.
"Tamm, buy me a drink," said Symion, as brightly as ever.
The young paladin shook his head with a grudging smile. "No."
Less than a minute later, Tamm was trudging away to the bar.
Symion was briefly distracted by a rather comely young lass who shot a very friendly smile his way. He walked up to her with a bit of a swagger and the two began to converse in low tones. Valandris could not but help watching as she sat alone, feeling rather miffed.
Tamm returned momentarily, carrying with some distaste a pint of ale. He looked with some confusion to the chair Symion had vacated. "He's over there," said Valandris with just a hint of a sneer, pointing in his direction. Tamm followed her gaze and sighed knowingly.
Valandris fidgeted, drumming her fingers idly on her knee or tapping her toe on the ground. It was right that something be said to lift the silence, but Tamm was skulking silently by the wall again, seeming not at all inclined to speak. "You are good friends?" she asked at length.
"Yes," he answered with a quiet chuckle. Whether he was laughing at the question or the answer was unclear.
A cry of protest rose up from somewhere in the tavern. "That girl!" howled a bleary-eyed, portly gentleman in a sleeping cap as he stumbled down the stairs. "Caught her in me room, pilfering me pockets!"
The identity of 'that girl' was rather uncertain as the victim thrust a chubby finger vaguely towards the crowd of people. "Crazy fool," muttered more than a few as they returned contentedly to their drinks. The man puffed out his chest and began explaining in the most animated language that he was not crazy and there was a girl and that she had been in his room, pilfering his pockets.
As he panted and puffed, a small, dark-haired woman was creeping cautiously down the stairs. She caught sight of the man ranting to his unreceptive audience and smiled triumphantly.
The smile faded when she looked ahead and saw the dull metal of Tamm's armor. She slowly lifted her head until her wide eyes met his. "Evenin'," she said in a low voice. "Lovely night, wouldn't you say?" She spoke lightly, almost carelessly, though her small frame trembled as she turned on her heel to continue towards the door.
Valandris remained seated, shaking her head at the strange goings-on of this little inn. As she was about to remark to Tamm on how very different this was from Stormwind, she felt a mug thrust into her hands.
"For Simon," said the paladin, stepping back. "I will return shortly. Excuse me."
Valandris frowned and held the mug away from her. Paladins and scoundrels and pickpockets! What news this would be for those back at home!
Away from the noise and commotion of the Pride, Tamm felt his head beginning to clear as he wandered aimlessly along the road. Where was that blasted girl? Certainly she couldn't have gotten far, but save for a few horses and chicken, the area looked to be entirely devoid of life.
He looked behind the horses and every bush, up in trees and down in holes. He looked until he had nearly forgotten what he was looking for, and only wished to find it. There was nothing, however, and he sat on the grass with a sigh, reluctant to return to the crowded inn and its drunken inhabitants. The night breeze was cool and refreshing, much to be preferred over the stifling heat of so many people crushed together inside the Pride.
But, he remembered with some annoyance, Symion was there and needed to be looked after. Already he had probably gotten himself into some trouble or other; one that Tamm would likely have to get him out of.
With this in mind, he rose to his feet and began trudging towards the warm light of the inn.
A stirring of the shadows in the corner of his eye stopped him in his tracks.
Tamm turned. "Come out," he beckoned, spreading his feet as he waited. There was nothing: no answer or movement in the darkness. Again Tamm called out to the girl he knew must be hiding not five feet from where he now stood. Still there was no answer, and his frustration grew until he remembered the look in her eyes as she had passed him in the inn: pleading and fearful. Gentling his tone, he took a step forward and said, "Come out. You have nothing to fear from me."
That was the wrong thing to say. A flat out lie, actually, since he had intended to tote her to the authorities straightaway. He grimaced and took a step back, hoping she would keep herself hidden.
She did not.
The woman who stepped out from the shadows was even shorter than she had seemed inside, being little over five feet above the ground. She was thin, though not in the same way as the stylish ladies of Stormwind who so prided themselves on their trim figures. It looked as though her meals were few and far between, and her clothing was ragged and patched. Her dark hair was tied up loosely and perhaps rather carelessly, and sections of it slipped away to frame her narrow, unnaturally pale face. The gray eyes that had so stricken Tamm earlier were now staring warily at him.
Tamm stood silent for long moments, wondering whether it was best to lecture her on the evils of stealing or to assure her that he meant no harm. "I am Sir Tamm Tosscobble, ordained paladin of the Holy Light," he said suddenly, bowing stiffly. It was foolish to introduce himself, he realized, but nothing else was coming to mind.
The young thief looked caught off guard by Tamm's words. "Iyona," she said slowly, ducking her head in greeting.
An owl hooted as it flew overhead. Tamm shifted uneasily. "In a more intelligent crowd, you would have been caught."
"I know."
She was so very blithe about it that Tamm frowned and wanted to tell her to be careful. It then struck him that he was supposed to be correcting this girl of her evil ways, not telling her to do them carefully. He coughed. "How much did you take from him?" he asked at last.
"Enough," she said with a shrug.
"How much is that?"
"Couple silver."
Tamm held out an armored hand, expression stern. "Let's see it."
"And what makes ya think I'll just hand it over, holy man?" Her tone was light and cheerful, but the narrowing of her eyes was not.
"Because," he answered gravely, "It is the right thing to do."
Iyona did not answer immediately, and for a small space of time they simply stared at each other, wills battling. Finally she tossed her head dismissively and opened her hand to reveal the silver. "You win, but y'have a very strange idea of right if y'think that bloated fool needs a warm meal more than me." She smiled winningly, and the coins fell into his gauntleted hand with a clink.
Tamm's mouth twitched slightly at the comment, but he quickly hardened his expression and cleared his throat. "The difference is, he earned it. Now, I'm going to return this to him, and I want you to be waiting here when I come back." He turned, then added over his shoulder, "Don't move."
She didn't move, which was more than he expected. He returned with a plate full of food, which was more than she expected. Both sat quietly in the near-darkness, not entirely knowing what to make of the other. She picked at her food, he fiddled with his armor, and both studiously avoided looking at the other. Several times did Iyona try to break the silence, only to be answered with monosyllabic grunts.
"You, uh… don't have to stay here, y'know," she ventured.
Tamm looked up then, apparently rather surprised. "I know."
"Then…"
He straightened, frowning. "As an ordained paladin of the holy Light, it's my duty to uphold virtue and honor. And frankly, miss, it's not safe or honorable for any young lady to be out alone this time of night--"
"Tamm!"
Symion's bellowing call was followed by Symion himself, tramping through the bushes. His eyes were red, his shirt was rumpled, and he had a half-empty bottle of rum in his hand. Surveying the two, Iyona perched on a log and Tamm standing opposite her, he grinned. "So this is where you run off to, old fellow! Not very paladin-y, having little midnight rendezvous like these."
Tamm sputtered in protest, the only coherent words being "paladin of the holy Light" and "how dare you!"
From the light in her eyes and curve of her lips, it was easy enough to see that Iyona did not share Tamm's indignation. Introductions were made, and there was only brief confusion with the slurring of "Shymon"'s name. Tamm found himself rather miffed; this was certainly not the way he had intended to spend the evening. Instead of lecturing the no-good little pickpocket on the evils of stealing, he found himself having a lovely little tea party in the middle of the woods.
To make matters worse, the insufferable Symion flirted with the girl with every breath. She seemed to enjoy it, too; back and forth the banter flew, as light and easy as anything. It was indecent, it was improper, it was --
"Goodness gracious!" A wide-eyed and very flustered Valandris appeared before them, seemingly out of nowhere, clutching at full tankard of ale. She held herself very tall and regal indeed, though she looked as though she had stepped right out of a windstorm. "Sir Turindale, I believe this is yours," she said stiffly, holding out the mug.
"Val!" beamed Symion, peering down into the frothy brew. "That's a real lady for you. Beauty and ale."
"Dear me. That's rather ungentlemanly to suggest." Leaning forward, Valandris surveyed the trio and raised her brows, whispering, "I had adreadful time in there. More than one man confused me for the bar wench!" Standing back, she waited eagerly for a collective gasp of horror.
There was none. Instead, Tamm spirited away the ale, grumbling, "You've had enough for tonight, Simon. We're going to leave this blasted town."
"You can leave if ya want, holy man," piped up Iyona, smiling past him to Symion. "I'm more'n happy to keep your friend company."
With that, Tamm knew his stay in Goldshire would be a long one.