As a sidenote, after careful consideration, I have decided to change the demon that bore Haer'dalis to be his mother. I agonized over this for long periods of time, weighing the arguments as to what was probable and as to what Bioware intended. I reasoned this out with an older sibling, more experienced in the world of Dungeons and Dragons, and finally decided to let the game's idea stand. Know though, that I put much thought into this and I thank most heartily the ones who corrected me! As a second note, while the elves may reach a physical maturity equivalent to that of a human of equal age early on, that does not mean they are emotionally mature. An exception, I will add, would be Drizzt Do'Urden... and Laeleslin.

The sun rose high over the Five Flagons and then sunk into the welcoming embrace of the horizon once again before Laeleslin stirred in the stillness of her room. She pushed the soft covers off of her and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

To a human eye, the room was completely black, save for a thin strip of light under the doorway. But to Laeleslin, it was a world alight with colors in the infrared spectrum. The elf's limited infravision allowed her to see patterns of heat in brilliant red and orange, the colder spots deep purple and blue. Along three walls of the room were clustered patches of light where fireplaces burned in adjacent rooms. Her own bed glowed warmly where she had retired the day before, and her feet left traces of crimson on the wood floor as she pulled on her boots and walked to open the door.

The ranger's eyes quickly adjusted to the bright torchlight of the Flagons and the colors faded back to the tamer visible spectrum. Laeleslin moved past the rooms where she knew her companions to be sleeping, took the staircase down to the bar, and headed outside to the night air.

Even after the sun had taken its leave of Athkatla, the streets were still alive with movement. Men and women of all sorts roamed the Bridge district, some without purpose, but all with the same downtrodden countenances.

Laeleslin frowned as she walked, longing for the clean, undisturbed forests she had come to cherish. The city had never been a refuge for her. Her home had always been Candlekeep, small, untainted, secluded. There had been peace there. In her first two decades of life, it had seemed a purposeless existence, moving from lesson to chore, snatching every moment she could to dream about the outside. But now, she looked back upon her time in the great Library as… complete. Gorion had strived to make it so. She flinched involuntarily at having brought her father up, but this time she did not push the memory away. He had brought her to Candlekeep to save her not only from the wretched world outside of those cloistered walls, but also to keep her from… herself.

No, she corrected quickly. Not from herself, from Bhaal. He was always within her… seeking to crush her will and poison her heart.

She stopped her walk on the outskirts of the Bridge district, where the night life had somewhat faded, and leaned against the dirty wall of a building, looking up at the skies. Parda had once told her stories of the heavens, in one of his more indulgent moments, telling of the great velvet curtain that veiled the heavens, and of the thousand pinpricks made by a golden needle of Selune, with the greatest hole being a place for her beautiful face to look down upon the world. Laeleslin knew they were just stories, and that Ao or Shar had more likely been the creator, but she still smiled every time she remembered the aged monk, his kind face close to hers, pointing excitedly at the night sky and whispering, lest the guards catch them atop the battlements.

Haer'dalis came upon her like that, his own eyes picking out the ranger in the bright glow of the stars. She took no notice of him, too enveloped in searching the depths of the heavens, her elven features bathed in moonlight. He had not seen her since he purchased rooms for the party. After that, he had gone to his own room to sleep, then spent the remaining hours of daylight at the bar, where he had spotted Laeleslin leaving.

She had the most beautiful smile, he decided that night. The way her nose crinkled up and her eyes sparkled with life, her lips arching dreamily. She was a child again when she smiled. If she had been pretty when dour and solemn, she was breathtaking when joyful. Haer'dalis sighed impulsively.

Laeleslin's eyed suddenly moved to where the bard stood, and the smile slowly disappeared. How long had he been there? And why had he come looking for her? Something had happened, she suddenly thought, and chastised herself for leaving in the middle of the night. "What is it?"

"I needed to talk to you." Haer'dalis replied, stepping closer to where she leaned against the wall.

Laeleslin relaxed again, his answer dismissing her momentary worries. But… what did he want to talk about?

"Are you thinking of Candlekeep?" The bard took a place next to her.

"I was," she said, looking back up to the stars. "You know… it's funny, I only spent a score of years there, and in elven years that is not so long, but I could not imagine calling any place home ever again." She did not laugh.

Haer'dalis raised one eyebrow. "You are only twenty years of age?" He hadn't thought her so young. The way she lived with such a grim and solemn face, he thought her spirit was hardened by at least a hundred years. In the life of an elf, a hundred years was almost adulthood. Laeleslin was just a child, he thought, remembering those two rare moments when her face had been transformed into a pixie-like countenance.

"Yes," Laeleslin said, finally moving her deep green eyes to the tiefling. Haer'dalis could barely hide a chuckle. "What?" she asked, seeing the laughter behind his eyes.

"You're so somber all of the time. That is no way for an elven child to behave. You must frolic and dance; be merry!" Haer'dalis was puzzled by the ranger's facial expression as she stared at him.

"There are many things that change a child," she replied, her voice soft and suddenly sad. "I was robbed of my childhood. I cannot go back to the way things were."

Haer'dalis was stunned. Such an open statement from the aloof girl was so rare. Only once had she spoken to him of her past so earnestly, and that had been briefly. He had not expected it to happen again. It struck him then like a blow to the head: she was not hiding anymore. He could see it in those deep, penetrating eyes. Whatever it was that kept her so curled up within herself she had released.

"What about you?"

"What?" Haer'dalis had lost his train of thought after having discovered the revelation.

"You seem to have seen more years than I." She was asking more than his age, Haer'dalis thought to himself. She was asking about his life. There was a tremor of uncertainty in the ranger's voice. She was sacrificing something, taking a risk in exposing herself. There was a long silence before he answered her. He would have preferred to keep such raw and personal memories from others, but something about Laeleslin's anxious question, as if she was afraid he would not answer, persuaded him to speak.

"In truth, I am barely older than you… I don't know the exact day of my birth, for neither of my parents did I ever see. Perhaps my mother did not survive long after my birth, but more likely it is that she abandoned me to my fate. Why the demon did not have the heart to kill me though, I can only guess." Haer'dalis paused, his voice heavy with bitterness.

"How do you know that it is your mother that provides your tiefling blood?" The ranger's question was no longer hesitant. The intense look in her eyes told him that she understood far more than he thought.

Haer'dalis raised his hand to point out the strange markings on his face; they were deep, ragged scars. "Only a demon would do such a thing to her newborn child. I do not celebrate the day appointed as my birth date that those who took me in gave me. Every year I am reminded of exactly what I am."

What Laeleslin did next caught the Blade completely off guard. Slowly, she raised her own hand up to gently trace over the scars on his face with her fingertips.

"Every day I am reminded of exactly what I am." Laeleslin said quietly. "I'm so very tired of having people look at me as if I were a monster."

Haer'dalis knew exactly the feeling of shame and disgust. That was what had driven him to Raelis' bardic troupe. At least there, with the entire group sharing tiefling heritage, he had not felt so alone.

"Do you know how all of my friends at Candlekeep died?" Laeleslin asked suddenly, her bright eyes shining in the starlight, her hand at her side again. The Blade shook his head.

"My brother, Sarevok, framed me for murders I did not commit. They… locked my friends and I up in the barracks and Ulruant, the Keeper of the Tomes, without even asking if I had done the deed, denounced me as a murderer and shouted, as if he were possessed, that I had brought disgrace upon Candlekeep… upon Gorion. He did not care enough about me to learn the truth. When a teacher of mine named Tethtoril had mercy on us and let us free, we had to run through the very catacombs underneath my home to avoid being hunted." The elf suddenly looked small and frail, her features drawn and haunted. "I saw my friends down there in those catacombs… friends that I had grown up with in the Keep who came to help me. But… when they reached for me to embrace…. I knew." A sudden tremor shook the ranger and Haer'dalis waited patiently, not having the slightest clue what she was alluding to. When Laeleslin spoke again, her voice was wracked with emotion and pain. "Their hands turned to clawed fingers before my very eyes! Their features distorted and melted away and they sought to tear my very life from me! Dopplegangers..." The word was like acid on her tongue. "While I was in that cell they had gone and taken nearly every last person I spent my first twenty years of life with… Nearly everyone…"

"Imoen." Haer'dalis felt a sudden pang of pain hit him hard. It hurt him to see her like this, he realized with a small amount of wonder. The others of the group had talked of her often, but Laeleslin had said very little on the subject of her sister.

The elf's gemmed eyes flickered towards the skies again, as if seeing another place. She drew in a long, tremulous breath, and then let it out again before continuing. "I couldn't save her this time though." She looked back at the tiefling and a tear traced its way down her pale cheeks. Impulsively, Haer'dalis reached out and wiped the drop away, his hand staying for just a moment longer.

And Laeleslin smiled.