The Boldest Truths
He was a private man.
When he spoke, it was in answer to a question. He made exceptions, towards the beauty of the sky, or about flowers, or the weather; he spoke often of simple, innocent things. If ever he did speak seriously, he spoke the honest truth. It was, he admitted once, what kept him from speaking freely, lest he bind himself in trust by oversight.
What Elle knew of him, she realized, was very little. He lived in a hollowed-out tree; he took in lost children; he was gentle, and let his heart guide his path. Flamshe had taken a liking to him, as he had taken a liking to her singing, but the mermaid subsequently insisted he was an idyllic pushover.
In the same day, he easily proved he wasn't; like his words, he picked his battles very carefully.
Without him, she lived in a cage. It wasn't that bad... her friends kept her company, and she rarely missed the outside world to begin with.
"Perhaps you should visit him for once," Monique suggested. It was an offhand comment, one drizzled morning while the rain danced on the leaves above.
"I couldn't possibly-" Elle gasped at the notion, flustered, "I couldn't."
"It wouldn't be that hard," Monique replied, twitching her wings elegantly. "It's not like you'd do it every day, and besides – who would recognize you?" Before her friend could protest, she added, "I'll even go with you."
There was little to argue. From the moment Monique had thought of it, it was settled. They set out on the Holy day. Flamshe rolled her eyes, but met with them again near Polpota as they passed the harbor and left the sea.
The moment they arrived, he was setting out his front door with nothing but his axe. For that moment, he was clearly shocked. Then, he smiled – but he smiled a lot; his face was made for it.
"I won't be long," he promised, "There's something I need to attend to. After that, I'll take you for a walk if you like."
"I'd like that very much," she murmured, trying in vain to ignore the creep of a blush across her cheeks.
"So would I," he said. Instantly, she dropped her gaze to the ground, feeling ruffled all over.
She waited. Half an hour, Monique took her leave. An hour, Lisa came up from the workshop and invited her inside. Three hours, Bud returned from Domina. The evening fell about them, and as the morning dawned the twins left her alone whilst they attended their chores.
Two more days passed thus. Elle thought about going back – she deeply missed the sea – but she would never make it on her own, and was furthermore worried now. Even the twins were growing agitated, yet they knew more about these things than she.
On the third morning, he appeared out of the morning mists, covered in blood; it was mostly his own, by the looks of him. His axe was loose in his hand – it fell the next step he took, landing with a dull thud in the dust. It lay forgotten as he trudged, step after arduous, feeble step, up the path to his front door. The twins herded him inside, tended his injuries as best they could, bandaging his wounds, binding and splinting his broken fingers. He didn't speak, didn't respond, didn't blink... whatever had broken his body had broken his mind as well.
The most Elle could do was hold his hand as he sat, staring into space; in the waning hours, her heart was rent to know it would never be enough.
Working Title: Lost Roads
Inspiration: Two plotbunnies that didn't stand too well on their own. I mean, they would have, but they work better together.
Noteworthy: Hey, look! I wrote the hero on his own for once.
Disambiguation: Takes place after the Final Quest. Some truth is easier to face than others.
Derivative work of material © Squaresoft, Square-Enix.