Author's notes: This was written purely for my own satisfaction, as I have found little of it in the in-game relationships between characters in Neverwinter Nights 2, a wonderful game otherwise that I recommend to anyone who enjoys RPGs at least a little. You can't have everything, I suppose, especially with that mean old Ancient Evil Thingy out to get you at every corner, even as you crawl through dungeons and help old ladies with their lost cats along the way. No promises for updates, as this is mostly an experiment, but I have several chapters planned out. I intend to focus more on my other stories, but really, the inspiration is just impossible to contain.

All ownership of NWNII and MotB , their plots and characters is hereby disclaimed. All that could be considered mine is the behind-kicking PC, whose personality definitely belongs to me.

X X X

Farewells and goodbyes

X X X X X

Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.

Samuel Smiles

X X X X X

Pain.

Crimson as the sunset, sharp as steel.

Something delving into her flesh, causing her to scream. But before that, the image of what appeared to be a village. A village that could have been peaceful, tranquil, even, if the day was different, if no harm had come to it… if destiny hadn't chosen it to be the setting for a grand adventure that was to take place many years later.

Someone was clutching her, but it was a gentle grip, meant to shield her from harm. A lady with kind eyes but a sharpness to her features was holding her, protecting her. And next to the golden-haired lady was another, with similarly pointed ears, trying to find them a safe path away. But there were ugly creatures surrounding them and none of her defenders could as much as move without clashing blade against claw, head-on.

Arrows flying, blades clashing… but she saw something else, something beyond them all. A powerful figure that seemed to be made of shadow, shrouded in darkness, battling a smaller, cloaked opponent, who wielded the most peculiar sword. It seemed like materialized thunder, tangible lightning. Power radiated from it, from hilt to tip, power that even a creature as insignificant as she was could feel. But a different kind of strength and power radiated from the shadow, which beat away the sword and its wielder brutally.

She didn't like that. It was frightening, terrifying. And the kind lady holding her raised a sword of her own to beat away a mutilated creature, but she herself was wounded… and she was crying for the kind lady, for all the suffering. She wanted it to stop.

Of the cloaked figure, she saw little, save for two determined eyes beneath its dark cloak. And then, the pain came.

No, the flash of light came before that. Time stopped momentarily and the two duelists launched at each other in one final spectacular attack. Their weapons almost seemed to shriek as they hit. Again, the sobs, the crying, erupted from her throat – and the cloaked figure seemed to falter, if only for a second.

There was a flash of light… and a thousand daggers digging into her very soul as darkness engulfed her, as someone screamed her name and threw themselves before her, into the path of the weapon.

The dream ended as it began; in pain. It always ended thusly. She never saw what happened to the cloaked figure, to the shadow or the two ladies who had striven so hard to protect her from any kind of harm.

Neliel opened her eyes somewhat lazily, blinking to make certain she was really awake. Slowly, she sat up in her bed, glancing out of the window. It was not yet dawn; no matter, for she was a light sleeper, in any case, and her father would no doubt be up already. But the dream… the dream she had been having for at least a month now, continued to haunt her.

She was unused to this and distinctly didn't like it, she decided. Dreams like this, dreams that seemed to be weaved from threads of reality, were unnerving to her. She got up from her bed, brushing her hair and dressing herself in her plum-colored robes. A small dark creature that had been hanging upside-down on her lamp opened one large eye upon sensing the movement in the room, giving its voice a workout as it gave a slight shriek instead of a greeting.

The sun elf didn't bother telling her familiar to be quiet. Daeghun was likely long since up and gone already and aside from him, she was the only resident of the Farlong household. "Morning, Zelas." she said to the bat instead, getting another small shriek in response. Neliel had never really understood how come nocturnal creatures could be awake during the day and sleep at night, but she supposed that was one of the perks of being a familiar, a creature created by her own arcane energy.

Her room was plain and almost neat, save for the scrolls and papers that covered most surfaces. On one such paper-covered surface was a clean steel sword that seemed to glow with a faint blue light and give off a soft hum, like a distant beehive. Next to it was a bone wand and a pair of enchanted rings. Otherwise, there was nothing too special about her residence, just as there wouldn't have been anything special about Neliel herself, if not for her heritage.

"Nell the Orphan", as the Mossfelds would taunt when they were children, the only resident of West Harbor who was not at least partly a human, who always had to stand out, with her "loony dreams". It had been a blessing from the gods that Tarmas had chosen to settle in their village and start teaching a few of the children magic. Nell's previous experiences with her own power had mainly involved setting things on fire and calming enraged animals. Now, she could do it consciously, though the former, she tried not to, unless asked to.

Save for the three idiots that were brothers, there was no one in the village who had anything against her… but most agreed that she had read one book too many, with her wish to be a great witch one day. Certainly, Tarmas taught some apprentices some basic tricks, but most villagers viewed it only as entertainment for fairs. There were other things that needed attention; the farms, the fields, real life. Surviving on the Mere of Dead Men was not easy, but the Harbormen were not renowned for their toughness for nothing.

And today, the day of the Harvest Fair, was a day for proving that.

Like every day, Nell took care of her chores before the sun even rose above the horizon. The house was empty, but if there was one thing the sun elf had learned from living with a half-elven ranger for a foster father, it was that this was not a strange occurrence. Her arcane powers were being underused in this environment, but she didn't complain. The village was her whole life, even if she didn't fully fit in. her two closest friends were her whole world and her father… well, she loved him, because she needed someone to love as a parent. Even if they had their differences; even if there was a wall of ice between them, not entirely only from his side.

Fate had chosen that she should be a farmer. So be it.

"So many years ago, today…" Nell put the broom aside; that meant releasing it from her magical grip – practicing conjuring up Bigby's Hands was very useful for housework, even if the Hands were a bit misused in this case – and brushed off the dust from her robes. Strange… her father was home, gazing at the fireplace.

And, perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but there seemed to be sadness in his eyes.

"Your father, sad?" Bevil almost snorted when she told the tale a few hours later. They were celebrating; the three of them had finally won the Harvest Cup, the greatest honor that any child from the village could aspire to. Moreover, they had succeeded in knocking down those arrogant Mossfelds. "Sorry if I find that a bit hard to imagine, Nell."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much." Amie added good-naturedly, patting the elf's arm. "I mean, whatever he was talking about must have happened before you were born, even, and your father has always been the loner type. Besides, if anything was wrong, I bet he'd tell Georg. So take it easy."

"It just struck me as strange." Nell muttered, still imagining the moment.

The year itself was said to be odd. Movements along the Mere, whispers of undead leaving their graves… strange things, as anyone in the village would say. The innkeeper poured them some harvest mead, but gave Amie a pointed look, causing her to look down with a blush. Her two friends laughed almost simultaneously, remembering last year's "other talent show" with a certain fondness. The tavern was full that night, even children running around. The year was turning out to be a difficult one, but tonight was a night of celebrating, even if the gods themselves were against it.

"Neliel." Heads turned immediately – the gods apparently saw divine intervention suitable, for the unthinkable had happened – as Daeghun Farlong approached his foster daughter without as much as a glance at anyone else. fortunately, everyone else was far too busy celebrating or drinking to notice, but Amie raised her eyebrows before hiding her giggles at Bevil's stupefied expression behind her hand. The ranger gave them both a curt nod instead of a greeting, but even that was a great deal, coming from him.

"Father, I did not expect to see you here." Nell said truthfully once she recovered from the shock. Her father, in the tavern. The world had to be coming to an end. A flicker of anxiety passed through her, because it likely meant that her celebration was over.

"We should speak." After all those years, it was not in the least bit surprising that with that, he turned around and strolled out of the building without a backward glance. Nell felt her friends' eyes on her, but she only took a deep breath and pushed herself off her stool and followed. Coldness was something she could tolerate, but not accept. Still, she had gotten used to it and knew what which gesture meant when it came to her "father".

Contrary to simply stopping outside of the building, a walk in the moonlight was necessary, though Nell knew it wasn't because of any kind of dramatics. Drama and her father simply didn't mesh well. she had seen that look in his eyes before, though, always signifying that what he had to say was of importance. Even if that were not the case, she would have not disobeyed the summons. Her curiosity had been peaked; it was highly unusual for her father to be the one to start a conversation with her.

"I hear that you have outdone yourself today at the fair." Daeghun said without any kind of pretext once they had drifted far away from earshot of the inn. "Tarmas spoke of you after the competition."

Those were not compliments; those were facts. Neliel didn't thank for them. "Did he?" she asked with mild interest. Her spell hadn't been nearly as flashy as Amie's enlargement and summoning, but she rather thought her skills with fire had improved – and her Magic Missile number had increased as well. Hopefully, Tarmas hadn't been his usual cynical self when speaking of her.

"He quite plainly said that only a fool wouldn't send you to the nearest arcane academy before the season ends." His voice was devoid of pride – Nell knew that he had never been too enthusiastic about her learning the Art, though to be honest, Daeghun didn't show much enthusiasm for everything. But of this, he seemed to disapprove for some reason. Only one of the many disagreements between them.

"And what did you say?" she asked carefully, dreading the answer a bit.

Daeghun did not disappoint and his frown seemed to deepen when he saw right through that barely concealed excitement. "That I find you too young for such a journey." His voice was flatter than before, Nell noticed with a sinking feeling. He was not happy with her outlook on the situation. "Humans do not think in perspective; you are not one of them."

"But I've won the Cup!" It was pointless to argue; the battle was lost before it had even begun, but that was beside the point. There was only one thing that Neliel loved beyond anything, perhaps even beyond her friends (though she knew it was selfishness), and that was magic. West Harbor, though precious to her, offered no higher education for mages. The schools that practiced the arcane arts were to be found only in large cities – Waterdeep, Neverwinter, Baldur's Gate… all of those seemed an eternity away. "I can handle myself, father." Her voice sounded convincing to her. She truly believed that. "And with Amie and Bevil…"

"Your ambitions do not mirror theirs." Daeghun cut in, dismissing her feeble arguments before even acknowledging them. "Their horizon does not extend beyond the borders of this village."

"And mine?" Nell demanded. Her voice was shaking with suppressed frustration. They had had this discussion before, once, and the outcome had been just the same. But Neliel could admit that back then, she had been wrong; she hadn't been ready. Now, however, things were different. There was nothing else to accomplish in West Harbor, nothing but years and years of monotony… "This village means a lot to me, too. What difference is there?"

"You are being unusually impertinent tonight, Neliel." His tone never changed, but it was obvious that the sun elf had crossed some invisible line between acceptable and unacceptable. "You are letting one insignificant victory cloud your mind with delusions of grandeur."

Insignificant…Everything she did was insignificant. All her life, she had attempted to belong, to prove herself, to win praise from her father. That had ended a few years ago, leaving only bitterness between them. "Why must it be that whenever we speak, we fight?" she asked wearily. Fighting was tiring, when words would not move him and logic would not appeal to him.

Daeghun took no note of that. "You have merely proven my point. You are not ready to leave West Harbor yet."

"Will I ever be?" The ranger stopped in his tracks, turning back as if to size the girl up, though it was only a glance.

"Do not concern yourself with the future. However, I expect you to master that weapon you keep locked up in your room before we speak of this again."

"Was it really my mother's?" This time, Daeghun didn't turn around.

"The past is of no consequence, either."

Neliel stood there long after he vanished into the evening sunset, pondering that. She had no mother. She had no father, only a guardian. What did she have, besides magic? A sword that was supposed to be an heirloom from her mother, a bat familiar that she doted on, two friends who were more simple-minded than her, as she had discovered with the passing of the years… and dreams. Hopes, perhaps.

Night fell. The celebrations ended, but Nell felt rather as if they had lost terribly. The Harvest Cup remained in her possession, along with the cloak she had won thanks to completing all four tasks. Neither items were worth much more than their coin in sentimental value, but it was a start. Even Cormick had begun like this, right?

Zelas, her familiar, gave a slight shriek again. Neliel didn't bother with undressing; as an elf, the amount of sleep she required was gradually decreasing with the years. She was physically an adult now, though it would take another century until she could be considered that in mind as well. as the years would pass, the West Harbor she loved would fade around her, giving room to new people, new faces… the world would change.

As would she.

She dreamt of steel and shadow and power. And to that, she also woke.

It was dawn at last when the shadow crept away, but the sun was bathed in blood as it shone upon the ruins of what had once been a peaceful village. Dozens of friends, neighbors, villagers… dead. Dozens more of the enemy, slaughtered as well. all for a small bundle of silk that Neliel carefully put into her pack, with more care than if it were a crate of volatile blastglobes. The piece of silver glowed with a ghostly light from within whenever she came near, almost like a piece of bone.

Along with it, only few items were packed; a golden chalice that had been blessed with the power of Lathander, the god their resident priest worshipped, food and water for a few days of traveling, coin enough to secure a few more, a bedroll and, most precious of all, a box of alchemical ingredients, along with a book of spells that Neliel refused to leave behind, though others would have considered it unnecessary weigh. All of that was covered by a set of robes, the very same she had worn before.

The sun elf herself bore a likeness to a ranger from the depths of the wilderness now than a mage, as she wore leather armor that usually remained stuffed in her closet, unless she was practicing her archery. The Singing Sword hung at her hip, along with a wand or two tucked behind her belt.

She was leaving death behind her, only to go face it again, that she was certain.

"So… this is farewell, then?" she asked quietly. It seemed unreal that hours ago, she was begging to be able to leave for a large city and now, she was fleeing her home for one of the largest and most famous entirely against her will, on a different quest.

"Perhaps when we meet again, we will gain an understanding of each other." Daeghun replied sternly. He paid no heed to Amie's death or the loss of so many. He had seen such things before; this time, it couldn't destroy him, as it had done before. "You have enough gold and supplies to make it to Fort Locke. From there, the journey to Highcliff should be easier." Not easy. Only easier. Beings from other planes at her heels, an ancient mystery in her hands, he was certain nothing would be easy for Neliel from this moment on.

The sun elf nodded, her eyes downcast. Even in this final moment, there was no kindness in her father. So be it, then. She would pay with the same coin. "I remember your lessons, father."

"Heed them, then, Neliel Imladris." Nell couldn't help but glance up at the address. Was that… her name? She had never been told her last name; her mother's last name. or any name for her mother, anyway. She had always gone with the Farlong family name, even though she knew she didn't belong to that family. "And then, perhaps this will only be goodbye."