Coran had held the jewels in his hands, examining them carefully and allowing his slender fingers to run over their smooth surfaces and roughly cut edges. Take them to the city soon, he'd said, while the rich were still happy to throw their money around on anything pretty. There was apparently some crisis over iron that was causing the people to grow fearful about their safety, and even the rich were beginning to keep a careful eye on their spending. It was best, he said, to make a profit before they had enough sense to think about where their coin was going.

Lene had been avoiding eye contact with the elf since the first night of his intimacy with Safana. It had turned into the first night of many, and the younger girl was almost dreading the fall of the sun, knowing that she'd go from nightmares in the dream world, to nightmares in reality at some point during the night.

There were two things, though, that bothered her. One, simply, was that Safana and Coran never seemed to be... at peace. It didn't matter what hour Lene was cursed to waken at, the erotic activities of her companions would be in, quite literally, full flow.

The other, more disturbing thing, was that she knew why it was bothering her. The men she'd bedded in Beregost, each merely serving as a quick way to earn some coin, had always been rough with her; the elf had been the first man to touch her so gently. And she'd found it pleasurable; he wasn't exactly how she'd expected an elf to look -- she remembered the tales of their beauty and elegance -- but... her heart had quickened as his hands made contact with her skin, and the quickness of Safana's claim on him after that only served to unearth an emotion she'd been fairly unfamiliar with until that point.

She felt jealous.

It was stupid, of course: such a strong feeling could easily destroy a friendship, and what would be the point of it? There were plenty of men, and elves, in the lands, and there would certainly be plenty in the city. But no matter how much she tried to explain it to herself, the low-lying, throbbing lust just became more and more obvious the more she tried to control and quench it.

And it seemed that at least one of her companions had also noticed her awkwardness.

"What tragedy has occurred to cause such a radiant face to wear that downcast expression?"

Lene maintained her avoidance of eye contact, fixing her site to a monolith on a nearby hill, separated from her by a valley full of wildflowers and brambles. They were on their way to Baldur's Gate, crossing the country by Coran's lead and heading towards an immense forest that lay in the distance. Between them and it, however, was Candlekeep -- not in their direct path, but visible from their current vantage point if she screwed her eyes up and peered enough. She was surprised to find that she wasn't too bothered at all about passing so close to it.

She wasbothered about Coran's carefully positioned body, his chest almost touching her back, and his head angled so that when he spoke, the words were murmured gently into her ear, and the warmth of his breath brushed across her neck. Safana had made herself scarce, explaining that she had 'feminine issues' to attend, and that she'd rejoin them within the hour. It had taken the elf exactly one minute to begin his careful advances.

Lene shifted, making no effort to be subtle about her repositioning further away from his body. She kept her gaze firmly on the distant monument and ignored the fact she could barely make out anything about it other than its presence on the opposing hill.

"We are due to pass somewhere that does not hold pleasant memories for me," she replied, hesitantly, but not untruthfully.

The elf's eyebrow rose slightly. She could feel his eyes roaming over her. "The home you ran away from?" he enquired candidly.

She shot him a look; his eyes were amused, but the rest of his face remained serious. This was just a game for him. "So you do spend, at least some time, in conversation with my friend," she sniped. "I wondered if you were even aware of each others names."

"My! What an errant display of envy," he chuckled. "There is plenty of me to go around, you know. No woman, save for the Goddess Hanali herself, can contain my heart for long."

Lene glared at him. "You flatter yourself."

"And so do you," he noted lazily, moving to settle himself on one of the rocks nearby, basking in the sun. "I'm no stranger to the ways of a woman when she's faced by a temptation; especially when sheknows she shouldn't feel like that..."

"I don't feel anything," Lene lied curtly. "You've happened to join us and become... close to my friend. And now you're accompanying us to the city. It's as simple as that."

"Of course it is." He sounded smugly sure or his sarcasm. She felt her teeth clenching as she scowled. It only served to make him grin wider. "Oh, come now! Why do you fight it? Life is too short -- especially for a human -- to be so morally inclined!"

She felt her face flushing. "I think it would be best," she said, trying to be as calm as possible, and cautiously making her way past him so she could pretend to busy herself with her previously discarded pack, "if we just waited quietly for Safana-"

She'd not been careful enough. A quick grab from the elf secured her wrist in his hand, and she'd been pulled to stand before him, his arms wrapping around to ensure she was pressed very firmly against his body. She was momentarily lost for words, and he used this to his complete advantage.

"You are so very full of life, my lovely Lene," he said. He was almost purring -- she couldn't help but think of him as a male version of the woman he moulded himself against each night. His face was inching its way closer and closer to hers. "And Safana and I lay no claims to each other, so I do not understand why you feel the need to be so... fearful of her."

She brought her knee up swiftly, but then cried out in pain as Coran's carefully placed armour made its existence known. He let her go free from his arms to tend her leg as he grinned widely.

"Some things are worth protecting," he said suggestively. "And one day, you'll find that out for yourself!"

Lene cast him a dark look before she hobbled over to her pack, trying her hardest to ignore him as she rummaged through the few and boring items she had. How dare he! How dare he suggest he knew what she wanted! He didn't even know her, and he certainly couldn't know that... that... that he was right! She pulled a book from her bag that she'd found in the cave they'd looted when they met the elf, and slammed it down on the ground violently. To her annoyance, he was still watching her, and still grinning widely. He even had the audacity to wink. She purposefully turned her back on him.

Soon they'd be at the city, and she could avoid him easier then -- let Safana play with him until she got bored, then he'd be out of their lives forever. And then... and then there'd just be someone else. And what if she felt this jealousy again? She sighed heavily, rearranging some shawls at the bottom of her belongings that she'd forgotten she had. It hadn't been this hard before, when they'd been in Beregost. Every night there'd been men, willing to pay good coin for some time in their company; and Safana had always had first choice. She'd saved Lene, after all -- who knew how badly things could have gone had she not met the older woman.

The problem was, the men Safana chose were the ones Lene would probably choose... which had been less problematic when all that was at stake was one night. But now... now, with the jewels and their other potential riches, they didn't need to rely on being courtesans. They could take any man they wanted, out of choice rather than necessity. Lene wasn't looking for anything with commitment, but... if they shared the same taste, and Safana always got first choice...

I'll always be with you...

She shuddered involuntarily as Safana's smooth words echoed in her head. Of course, Safana wasn't known for her attachments to the opposite gender, so there was every chance that Lene would still be able to get a taste for what she wanted. But... well, why should she have to wait?

She cast a coquettish look over her shoulder at the elf. He'd gone back to sunning himself, but as if he had a sensor to determine a female's attention, he quirked his head to look over and meet her eye. He grinned, and she felt herself smiling to him, before turning away and neatly packing her belongings back up again.

Why should she wait, at all?

It seemed like an age before Safana reappeared, looking refreshed and ready to march on. Lene had deliberately kept herself busy with whatever small tasks she could find; mending some of her older dresses with what little thread and patches she could find, polishing her dagger until it shone brightly under the sun. Coran made no further moves towards her, and she was prepared to bide her time until Safana was preoccupied with something else. The older woman couldn't keep her eyes on her elven lover all day and all night, after all... though, perhaps, all night was more likely than day...

They marched down the gently rolling slope of the hill and through a meadow full of bright red poppies. Coran spoke lightly to Safana, laughing merrily and plucking the largest bloom he could find to thread it into the woman's long flowing hair. Lene walked past as they openly kissed, an icy feeling gripping at her insides. She was happy to walk on for as long as possible; not only would it mean they reached the city faster, but she would be more likely to fall asleep at nights, and not have to be exposed to the nocturnal activities of her companions.

Before long they joined up with the main road, surprisingly busy for such dangerous times. Traders had taken to travelling in groups, hoping for safety in numbers, it seemed, and no one paid a bit of attention to three more adventuring souls joining the convoy. They fell into line behind a particularly large wagon that was being pulled by two huge dappled grey mares. Walking behind it were two bored looking guards, who gave Lene a curt nod before turning back to the road ahead and continuing their march.

With her two companions still whispering sweet nothings to each other like lust-obsessed teenagers, Lene found her attention drifting to the conversation before her. The wagon, it seemed, had been on its monthly trip to Candlekeep with provisions. The guard to her left had gone with it; the other guard appeared to be from one of the other merchant caravans from Beregost, exchanging his news with his comrade to make the journey pass more pleasantly. Lene let the sound of their voices drift into her hearing.

"Never seen such an atmosphere there before," the first guard was saying quietly, shaking his head as he spoke. "In all the years I've done this run, keepin' an eye on the wagon... It's never been the friendliest o' places, mind. Lucky if we're allowed in fer a night if we arrive late, because we don't carry one o' their precious books, but... Never seen it like it was this time."

"Roads are dangerous," the other remarked matter-of-factly. "He shoulda known."

"He were a powerful mage, they say," his friend countered. "More'n powerful enough to protect himself, an' the girl. But his body was found not a day later by a scout."

"And the girl?"

"Took a bit longer, but she'd been killed too. Taken every last scrap she had, save for the clothes on her back they said. Mindless, it is. Mindless! Imagine killin' a young, defenceless girl!" They both shook their heads in wonder and lapsed into a prolonged silence.

Lene frowned for a moment, then smiled softly. So; they thought she was dead? Perhaps that was for the best... now she wouldn't have to fear any of the old man's friends trying to find her.