Nothing in this chapter will be quite so unexpected as Kivan actually have multiple dialog-rich sections...

Also, I can't believe it took me this long to figure out I should probably use single quotes for Tallix's thoughts when in flashbacks (where using italics to represent thoughts is therefore impossible)

For awhile it looks like these are Fabulous Old Evil Halfling Flashbacks instead of Foster Father XD

...

Complications

...

"Are we headed to Waterdeep?" Khalid asked hopefully.

Jaheira didn't answer at first. Then she sighed. "Why?"

Her husband frowned. "You don't think there's any hope?"

"Hope?" she muttered.

"No one witnessed Gorion's death," he stressed. "His body was never found. Winthrop told us he thought-"'

"The devil do I carewhat that sour-faced ranger thought!?" she snapped. "It has been over a year! A year with no word; not even a hint, or clue!"

"He could easily have stumbled into trouble!" Khalid protested. "Even *now* he may need help-!"

"Then it is up to mages and clerics to supply that help as there is nothing whatsoever I can do!" she fumed. "Enough! Drop the topic, Khalid; I do not want to dwell on this!"

Her husband eyes her for a moment. Then he frowned unhappily and turned away from her. "Well, I am going to Waterdeep," he told her.

Jaheira scowled. "We're headed east."

"You can head any direction you want," Khalid told her. "*I* am heading to Waterdeep."

Jaheira stiffened. She twisted about and looked to her husband. Khalid looked hurt, but he was staring firmly out at nothing. "What the devil are you talking about?" she groused.

"I'm telling you that if you won't come to Waterdeep, then we will be splitting up for a short while," the fighter told her.

"Khalid!" she exclaimed in disbelief, now even more angry and upset.

"He was my friend too," her husband added in a rush. "Don't be so selfish."

Jaheira fell quiet. For a long moment, she could think of nothing to say.

Khalid swallowed. "I know the last time we saw him, things were awkward and uncomfortable. But I still don't believe Gorion was well at the time. He wasn't ignoring us. He wasn't ignoring you. Something was *wrong.* Even if he is dead, you can't just say you don't care about finding out what happened to him all because he gave you one cold shoulder."

When she spoke, her voice cracked: "You would really leave me?"

Khalid held resolute. Then his shoulders slumped. "No," he admitted in a small voice. "But we need to go to Waterdeep, Jaheira. We need to keep going. To keep hoping. To keep listening. He would do the same for us."

Jaheira looked down at her gear. Then she slowly stood up and came over to where Khalid was sitting. She settled beside him, slipped an arm around his middle, and leaned her temple on his shoulder. Khalid looked to her hesitantly. Then he draped an arm about her shoulders, and combed through her hair.

"Gorion would be hard to kill," Khalid reminded her, and pressed a kiss to her brow.

...

Sitting in the Tethyrian boughs above them, darning closed a hole in her spare shirt with a pair of sugar gliders curled up in her hood, Tallix smirked.

'Heh. You tell her, cutie. No way that Feathers is dead,' Tallix was pretty sure. 'And if he is, I'mma go find his afterlife and have some stern words with him about his poor sense of drama.'

As for where the mage had managed to disappear to, Tallix had absolutely no idea. He'd dropped off her grid entirely, and to be honest it had both worried and impressed Tallix Snapdragon. Disappearing from her sights wasn't an easy feat for any man, and especially not one with feathered hair and a seriously deformed infant. But Gorion had done it- somehow- and she'd lost all track of him almost immediately after he'd left the Shadow Plane.

Finding him was going to take some cunning, but then that was what Jaheira and Khalid were for. Tallix couldn't waltz about tracking down and questioning all of Gorion's old friends as to his whereabouts. The Harpers could; and if Tallix had her way, they'd end up leading her straight to wherever the frosty stork was hiding.

If they thought Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun was their best starting point, then Tallix would take their word at it.

A sound reached Tallix's ears. She frowned, and started folding her laundry. She got a rude surprise when her interloper didn't circle about the perimeter like a proper shark, and instead waltzed straight towards the camp.

"Excuse me?" a man with one-too-many-faces called to the harpers from a good fifty yards away. "Are... are you camping here?"

Tallix sneered, tossing her shirt over a branch and smoothing her palms over her bracers. 'Oh-ho, lad, you're gettin a wee bit bold with the wrong contract... And Old Auntie's a mite twitchy from lack o' leaf...'

...

When the ranger was ready to head out and meet the day- and find out what the hells had happened to Imoen and Jaheira!- Aegis pulled on just her gambeson over her tunic, and belted the quilted fabric into place. Her armor would need some repair work, and she reason they might as well get it to the Thunderhammer Smithy. Children, of any sort, were no longer on her mind.

"I'm going to get some breakfast," she called back to the dazed and happy necromancer. "Want me to order your usual, or are you going to rest a few hours longer?"

Xzar only laughed, stretching himself out once and then curling up contentedly with her pillow.

Aegis winked back at him. She moved to open the door, and then blinked when something wedged between the door frame fell to the ground. She knelt, curious, to see what it was. It looked to just be a small square of black paper. Odd. She didn't think much out of it, and dropped it on the table beside the door for cleaners to find. Then she stood and headed out, calling to Pretzels as she went. The kitten bounded after her, glad to hear that someone was finally thinking about food.

Xzar waited until he heard her boots reach the bottom of the staircase far beyond. The inn was still comparatively quiet at this hour. Then he stood up and slowly walked over to the end table. He picked up the scrap of black vellum, holding it between the thumbs and forefingers and of both his hands.

The necromancer felt sick to his stomach, and had to to swallow several times before bile stopped trying to rise in his throat. He took in a slow breath, and then asked the blasphemy: "Who is the One True God?" in Thari.

And for an instant, a sun-shape stood out surreally against the black page like an optical illusion or trick of the eyes. A black sun: the holy symbol of Cyric.

He stared at the black fragment for a long moment. Then he turned, and walked over to where the bed he had just shared with his lover. He ruffled through the blankets, and found and extracted the Candlekeep cloak from under and around the pillows. He drew it up to his face, and breathed deep of her renewed scent. A tremor rippled through him.

"Byatskhan Moaratuk..." he whispered. Then he took in a deep, steadying breath and his voice evened out. "Forgive me."

...

Aegis did not find Ajantis on the ground floor, which was somewhat odd for the paladin; but then he had managed to stay awake and alert when everyone else was incapacitated, and perhaps he was sleeping that off.

It was still early in the morning, but the few people in the tavern looked to her with appreciation on their faces. She was confused for a moment. Then she remembered the bandit camp, and that clearing it hadn't just been her personal quest. She started smiling back.

Khalid and Kivan were awake already, and she came up to join them at their booth. The topic seemed to be war stories; the exciting sort, as opposed to the grim kind. Seeing anyone socialize with Kivan (or Khalid, for that matter) did Aegis' heart good.

"Good morning," she greeted as Khalid scooted over to make room for her. As she sat, she couldn't help but glance at how Kivan was eating. For a man whose forward knuckles ended in raw-looking grim nubs, he seemed to be having little difficulty feeding himself. With just a knife. It was still a little morbid-looking.

Kivan caught her glance and stabbed up a piece of ham just to alleviate her concerns. Aegis found his appetite reassuring. "Mellon'nin," he acknowledged quietly.

"G-good morning, Aegis," her uncle greeted warmly. "W-what a... a fight, eh?"

She nodded with a laugh, and forked food swiftly into her mouth. She was feeling as hungry as a Branwen. "How ya feeling, Kivan? Need anything?" she asked the elf. Abruptly she realized his hair was not only orderly but appeared to have a few thin braids in it. The devil?

Kivan considered the question. Then he bit into his ham and, while chewing, told her: "Armor, bow, cloak."

Thoughts of braids flew away in an instant! Aegis perked up, and then smiled radiantly. Kivan seemed to be okay. In fact, he did not look uncertain or unstable whatsoever. "You're staying with us, then?"

He stabbed up more meat and nodded. "Aye." It was an answer worth expending a syllable for.

"W-we shortly intended on visiting the temple," Khalid explained. "To inquire a-about the fingers and eh, well, to check on Xan and Branwen."

"I'll come," Aegis agreed, eating faster now so that they could get going. Then she looked up to see Xzar approaching them. The necromancer had a very quiet expression on his face, which seemed out of place. "Thought you were going to sleep?" she greeted as she finished swallowing a great number of grits.

"I changed my mind," he informed her. He looked at the table for a moment and then sat down beside Kivan, as that was the only seat available. "Has the Faewolf decided whether he'll be traveling with us or to Arvandor next? Because if it is the latter, I am happy to offer my expertise in getting him there!"

"People who should not be sitting together, chapter one," Aegis muttered dryly, and Kivan's eyes narrowed. Nevertheless the elf did answer: he gave a negative shake of his head.

"No? Well that's splendid; Ae was very worried about you, you know," he smiled toothily. "Ooh, I've been meaning to ask you something!" He leaned his chin on both hands like a woman eager for juicy gossip. "What was it like?"

Kivan's brow furrowed.

"You know: Finally completing the 'great thing' you'd survived against all odds to accomplish?" the necromancer elaborated.

Khalid had known Xzar long enough to be rather certain the man did honestly believe this to be polite conversation; and so covered his face and shook his head with a tolerant sigh. Aegis was less forgiving: "Xzar."

The wizard perked up at the sound of his name and then smiled bashfully at her and the Harper. "Was that insensitive?" he wondered. "I never can tell."

Kivan was quiet for a long moment, but before the question could be forgotten or Aegis could say anything more, he answered: "Bitter." Xzar looked at him. Khalid lifted his head and make sympathetic eye contact.

A sad smile twitched at the necromancer's lips. "I'd started to expect as much," he admitted quietly. Then he turned and smiled at Aegis. "I shall need to pick up a few spell components, and then I should be able to at least scry on your sister. Would you like that, my Moaratuk?"

Aegis straightened. She considered the suggestion and then she nodded. "Xan's probably still out of it anyway," she remarked. And it's probably better not to let Xzar linger around Kivan while they're both acting a little odd. "Alright, I'll go with you then." She looked at her quiet uncle. "Still heading to the temple?"

Khalid glanced at Kivan and then winked at Aegis and nodded; he knew exactly how to handle things. Aegis was impressed and gave the half-elf a one-armed hug. He returned with a happy smile.

"Why don't you order breakfast?" she suggested to Xzar, who shook his head.

"I'll be able to eat soon enough," he said. "I am sure you are eager for word of Imoen."

When Khalid and Kivan were done eating, Aegis and Xzar let them out of the booth. Aegis finished up her breakfast as Xzar watched.

...

Xan was sitting cross-legged beside Branwen's knee and enjoying a bowl of lentil soup while Branwen worked her way through twelve boiled eggs and an entire leg of ham. They were talking about horse-tossing.

When a knock came at their door, the elf wiped his mouth, set down his food, and stood up gracefully to reach the door. Branwen admired the way he moved.

"Dynaheir!" Xan smiled upon seeing who it was, and he opened the door wider. "Come in; we were just having breakfast."

"It is good to see you are alright," the Wychlaran sighed gratefully, entering the room with Minsc in tow. She looked to Branwen, who sat up a little further and waved to her. "And you! We had expected you to sleep much longer!"

"Ha!" Branwen chuckled, and she took another big bite out of her ham. "You underestimated me then, you did! Have you eaten?" She thought the witch looked a little gray.

But Dynaheir gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "I am not feeling up to breakfast just yet," she admitted.

"I have not eaten!" Minsc announced.

Branwen's eyes widened and she held her ham protectively to her breast, for Minsc was many times larger than Dynaheir and possessed of a far more robust appetite.

Minsc noticed her defensive posturing, and his gaze turned sorroful.

Branwen looked at the Ham, and then to Minsc.

The Rashemi man scuffed his feet and looked at the floor.

Ham. Minsc.

Branwen sighed and then carved off a chunk of ham and offered it up to the Rashemi.

"Huzzah! Glorious war woman does love Minsc!" the man proclaimed, and then he hopped up to join in ham appreciation with her. "Boo and I were slightly worried," he admitted, as Branwen laughed and thumped him on the shoulder.

Xan closed the door behind them, and came up alongside them. He looked from Dynaheir, who appeared quite worn with dark circles under her eyes, over to Minsc. The ranger seemed to be worried despite his playfullness; and Xan realized that Dynaheir must not have been sleeping very well.

"Why don't you sit?" Xan suggested, waving for her to take the chair as he resumed his seat on the edge of his bed. Dynaheir wavered for a moment before taking the offer with a small word of gratitude.

"What happened after I was knocked down?" Branwen asked them. "Did everyone get back right fine?"

"I know the answer!" Minsc proclaimed. "The little pink sneaking friend and our grumbly but big hearted lady druid are catching up! Or, at least, that is the plan..."

"Well d'ja get the Red Wizards in all?" Branwen turned curious eyes on to Dynaheir, quite interested. After all, the Wychlaran had elected to carry one of the most dangerous and difficult parts of their plan.

Dynaheir, surprisingly, winced. "I did."

Branwen wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she had a funny feeling this explained why Imoen and Jaheira were bringing up the rear of the group. She decided maybe this wasn't the best topic for further conversation. Instead, she struck upon the idea to ask Dynaheir about Kivan.

That ended up working out much better, as it appeared both she and Xan had slept straight through Kivan and Viconia going at one-another's throats. Xan was horrified, and Branwen, of course, had plenty of groans to heave about missing such a spectacular wrestling spectacle.

...

When the second knock came at Xan's door, he started considering whether he might go and ask the acolytes for some extra chairs. Standing up, he went over to the door to find both Khalid and Kivan. The two were immediately surprised to see Dynaheir, and this confirmed Xan's suspicion that the Wychlaran had been up and about before dawn- most likely owed to nerves.

"M-may we come in?" Khalid asked.

Xan nodded, and looked from him to the wild elf. "Kivan," he greeted his fellow elf, feeling a warm glow of relief to see the archer was still very much alive.

Kivan gave a small smirk and came over to Xan in specific. [I see your friend has kept her healthy appetite this morning,] he whispered so that full use of his vocabulary was easier.

[That is all you have to say!?] the enchanter demanded. [You were kidnapped! Carted off on a horse! Imprisoned! And then you challenged half a bandit camp to a thousand-on-one match up!]

Kivan smirked and lifted one of his hands. Xan had not previously seen their condition. The sight made his eyes widen, his ears droop, and the color leave his face. [With only six fingers,] the ranger agreed, perhaps a little smugly.

Xan looked up at the wild elf's face, only just then realizing how lucky he was to be talking to Kivan at all. What with tending to Branwen, he'd only had so much room left over to worry about everyone else. He wanted to lament the other elf's terrible maiming, but for a moment he was far too relieved to focus on the negatives. [You rash fool,] he blurted, and then he hugged the archer tightly.

This, more than anything, made the dour ranger smile. Elves who spent too long among men often had an easier time identifying with other elves, no matter their differences in background or creed. Kivan returned the enchanter's embrace briefly, and then patted his back and let Xan pull away.

[Aegis explains you slew Tazok?] Xan asked. [Yourself?]

[Aye. Kicked an arrow through his eye.] This time, Kivan's voice was deadpan; he was not bragging.

[Kicked?]

[He had protective magic,] Kivan explained. [Needed to get close.]

Xan opened his mouth. Then he shut it and shook his head wonderously. [Good.] He uttered the word firmly. [Well done,] he told the taller elf, clasping Kivan's shoulder and looked him earnestly in the eyes. [I know there were times I called you reckless or single-minded. And as you know I am... well... prone to think the worst of odds. But you killed him, anyway. A life debt was at last paid; one long, long overdue. Friend, let that ease you what it can.]

Kivan bowed his head briefly, momentarily overcome by the sensation of standing beside someone who could comprehend even a fraction of what he was going through. It sounded in part that Xan might be talking from experience; and Kivan thought he'd ask the moon elf about it later.

[They say you were in a melee of your own...] the wild elf noted after a moment.

[Well, I...]

[That you stood valiantly over your sweet with little more than your Moonblade.]

Xan blushed scarlet.

Kivan smirked and clasped the other elf's shoulder warmly. He glanced at where Dynaheir, Khalid, Branwen, and Minsc were talking. Then he tilted his head towards the door, and the smile dripped from his features. [Will you walk with me?] he whispered hopefully, and his voice betrayed a weaker foundation than he had initially revealed.

[Unhesitantly,] the enchanter agreed. He looked to Branwen, waved to get her attention, and then gestured to Kivan and the door. The cleric winked at him and nodded. With that, he turned and ushered Kivan gently out into the greater temple.

...

The two elves walked in silence for a bit. Xan led the way to the temple exterior so that they could get away from the eyes and ears of other living beings; but for awhile, Kivan still did not volunteer speech.

[If... if it will make it easier... I can cast a spell to communicate with you mentally,] Xan offered.

The archer broke out in a dark chuckle. [You do not want to be inside my head,] he informed Xan.

Xan frowned, concerned that Kivan would say such a thing. He decided not to argue with Kivan about which of their heads was a more stressful place to be.

[And it is not hard to whisper.]

[Are you sure of that?] Xan could probably count the syllables he'd heard from Kivan in all their friendship using double digit numbers.

[Yes. Aegis asks me for lengthy stories.]

That was curious, but Xan had started to suspect as much. [I... see... Well, what did you want to tell me about?]

For a moment, Kivan was silent. Then he answered: [The fight.]

Xan tilted his head to the side.

[The steps... the details... to... to solidify the memory. To make it real.] He took a deep breath, and pulled out more words: [I have passed the events of Deheriana's death ten thousand times through my mind; it almost seems more real or more current than her murderer's was...]

Xan touched his arm compassionately. [What was she like?] he asked.

Kivan didn't look up at him, and his answer rolled off his lips quickly as if he was afraid of losing his nerve and never revealing the truth: [She was a dancer. Hanali loved her, and her hair was as firelight. There was only one person who could pull me out of the shadows to join any form of revelry, and it was Deheriana.]

The enchanter fell silent, his eyes widening in sudden understanding and dismay. Seldarine. A tiny, well-hidden part of Kivan had once been romantic.

...

Xan and Kivan lingered out talking for well over an hour. Kivan did most of the talking, although his sentences became gruff and efficient again as he began to speak of the battle. Apparently, only the topic of Deheriana could entice adjectives from the grim ranger.

The conversation left the enchanter feeling compassionate, sad, nervous, and grateful. Although Deheriana obviously had few to no shared attributes with Branwen, Xan could not help but draw a parallel between them: Both women had apparently been good at coaxing introverted elvish men out of their shells.

He flinched and clenched his fists, scowling bitterly when Kivan spoke of Tazok's rape taunt.

[He was a monster,] the enchanter spat when the story was finished. [And had you perished in the attempt to slay him, I should have been glad to carve his heart out for you both.]

[I was glad he remembered me before the end,] Kivan rasped. [I was glad he knew who killed him, and why.]

Xan grimaced. [... I am glad you are still with us.]

Kivan did not reply for a moment. [And I, that you are.] The enchanter looked at him inquisitively. [Imoen worries about you.]

Oh... Imoen was one of the few people fully qualified to worry about him. He looked away.

Kivan prodded: [Thinks you were ashamed to survive the Nashkel mines.]

The enchanter frowned, but his usual uneasiness did not appear. Instead, something worse surfaced, something hollow

When Xan spoke next, his voice was lower than Kivan had ever heard it: [When I put my sword through the half-orc, avenged myself, and put my friend's soul to rest; there was a part of me that truly lamented how cleanly the bastard died. There was a part of me- a terrible part of me- which wanted him to suffer through everything we had suffered.

[Most days I am proud of myself for how I handled that final choice. But on others, when the night is late and I haven't had enough wine, I wish I had forced my mind into his before the end, and dumped my torment there. I wish I had left him screaming. So... I know how shocking it must feel to you that Tazok ended in little more than a swift kick.]

Kivan's eyes narrowed, and he studied the moon elf's face with protective concern. Xan had always reminded Kivan very slightly of Deheriana; perhaps because she had been just as petite, or perhaps because of the exact manner in which Xan had been used by his captor. [You are not saying something,] he was suddenly sure.

Xan stiffened, but didn't reply.

This bothered the wild elf tremendously; what could have been worse than what the party already knew? [You once had a fellow Graycloak,] Kivan recalled slowly. [Was she dear to you?]

Xan grimaced. [He was my good friend.]

Kivan's brows raised, and he was not at all thrown off by the stressed pronoun; they were all elves, after all. [Like Branwen is your good friend?]

Xan only shuddered and shook his head, looking out towards the horizon. [There is nothing on Faerun that can make me revisit the place in my memory where lurks the farthest depths of Nashkel mines.]

Kivan straightened. [Your Norheimer would listen to this story-]

[No one will ever listen to this story. There are some memories unfit for sane mines or spoken words.]

[You have heard my story, and yet say this?] Kivan wondered hoarsely, realizing that he had had guessed off-target. This grudge sounded traumatic, and yet remarkably cold. What else had Mullahey done? Still, he predicted: [You will tell her.]

[Never.]

[You will crave something like absolution, and you will want it from her. So you must tell her; or you will not know how to let her love you.]

Xan looked back at him, his face drained of color and expression.

Kivan touched his shoulder. [This place we've gone is dark. Perhaps, if we are quiet for a bit, the shadow will pass and we may speak of brighter things.]

...

[I... alright, I confess bewilderment, and I cannot withhold my questions any longer: Why is your hair braided? Did the girls take advantage of your poor hands and jump upon you the way they are more commonly accustomed to doing with me?] Xan asked.

It was this curiosity which had slowly pulled him out of his melancholy and provoked him to conversation. Where Xan's own hair was straight, Kivan's was naturally misbehaved; but the change from uncombed to combed was still visibly obvious. Xan had expected hair to be a lighter topic for them, and was surprised when Kivan glowered and did not immediately answer.

Xan hesitated.

He noticed that Kivan looked strangely uncomfortable. After a moment, the wild elf lifted a hand and slowly touched his own hair. By his hesitant motions it appeared that Kivan had neither looked in a mirror nor even reached up to assess what had been done to him. His fingers found the braids, and he drew them forward to see they had been tied off with thread.

The enchanter raised his brows curiously.

Kivan frowned so tremendously that Xan would have said the wild elf looked upset. He turned the this way and that betwixt his fingers, as if expecting to find something catastrophically wrong with them. His imagination hardly seemed to be limited to hairdressing mishaps; it honestly looked as if he thought there might be demons hiding between the strands.

[Kivan?] he wondered, perplexed.

The wild elf looked at him unhappily, and then lowered his head and continued to feel over the combed strands and braided locks. Xan tilted his head to the side. Something seemed seriously wrong with Kivan's expression.

[What happened?] he prompted gently.

The look on Kivan's face said either he had no idea where to start, or verbalizing the source of his displeasure was completely outside of his power.

[Well, who was it?] the enchanter prodded.

Kivan scratched slowly at the back of his head. Then he looked out at nothing. [Viconia,] he rasped.

Xan's jaw dropped. A moment passed in silence. Then: [Really?]

Kivan shook his head. [When I came to. When I could think. When I could move. She was there beside me, and she was doing this.]

Well, that explained how Kivan and Viconia had ended up trying to throttle one another in a fountain. Unfortunately, it left ten thousand other questions in its wake. Namely: Why would Viconia have done something so strange, and so foolish? It seemed almost sentimental. Particularly strange for a woman who had once offered Dynaheir's life in exchange for Kivan's.

The enchanter tried to think of what to tell Kivan, but everything which came to mind would most likely set the wild elf to dismissive scowling or downright anger. At last the only thing he could think of was: [I am sorry for that shock, friend. Usually, Ajantis or myself would have been on hand to discourage her from approaching you.]

Kivan looked at him sharply, and he cocked his head slightly in question. Xan didn't know what else to say. Kivan frowned. He opened his mouth to say something else. Then abruptly he stiffened, his face scrunching up in confusion as he looked ahead of them.

A very familiar black dog was walking across the wild elf's field of vision. It paused abruptly, and looked towards him. Its eyes were glowing.

Kivan's arms uncrossed and his lips parted. Xan looked off in the direction the wild elf was staring, but he saw nothing at all. With a raised brow he looked back up at the ranger. [Kivan?] he asked worriedly.

"Something's wrong," the wild elf muttered, no longer whispering. He watched the dog bound off and then shook his head and lifted fingers to his brow. "I-I feel as if someone just walked over my own grave." Abruptly Kivan twisted about and looked towards Beregost. "Mellon'nin-?" he mumbled. Then his eyes flew open wide. "No. No!"

"Kivan? What-?"

"Something is wrong!" the ranger snapped, and then bolted unarmed and unarmored away from the temple.

"Kivan!?"

...

[Author's Note]

Hold on to your seatbelts, I'm about to earn my M rating XD