It's a river in Elona, Trahearne.

8: Denial

The closest inn was at Ascalon Settlement, and there they went after they emerged from the crypt. It was a long, long walk, and Trahearne worried that Caoilfhionn wouldn't be able to make it with his leg in its condition, but he was either sturdier or more stubborn than Trahearne had given him credit for, though he seemed very glad to arrive when he did. As for himself… his brother's sword was a weighty burden, and one he bore with solemn acceptance.

Not everyone had known of their task; the dangers of causing a panic had been too great. Still, the local Seraph leader, Lieutenant Lokam, knew about it and told the innkeep to allow them free drinks for the evening. Trahearne took a glass of red wine and after a suitable amount of time in the company of the others, went to sit in the corner with Caladbolg and his journal.

Some time later, he looked up as he heard stumbling footsteps, and Caoilfhionn staggered over, clearly unsteady not just from his leg but from inebriation, a bright smile stretching his handsome face to its limit. "Tra-Trahearne! Hello!"

"Hello," Trahearne said, smiling back. "Had plenty to drink?"

"Sure!" And Caoilfhionn tripped over a chair, almost putting his face into the table but catching himself just in time. Trahearne half-jumped up, too late to be of assistance, but Caoilfhionn, balance or no, came right up to him and hugged him. "I wan'ed to say, thank you!"

"Er, you're welcome," Trahearne said, more amused than ever, but leaning as far away from this intrusion into his space as he could get without prying the young man off him. He smelled distractingly of floral cinnamon. "What for, though?" He'd already thanked him. Had he forgotten?

Caoilfhionn looked up at him with the most beatific smile. If he had not been dead drunk, his earnestness would have caught Trahearne's breath completely, with those wide coral eyes shining with innocence. As it was, he was in considerable danger anyway. "For bein' here. For bein' you!"

"…I think you've had quite enough to drink," was Trahearne's only coherent response. "Shall we get you to bed before you pass out on a table?"

"Huh?"

He sighed. "Bed. Now. Come along." He put an arm around Caoilfhionn's shoulders and steered him in the direction of the stairs. Along the way, he caught Caithe's eye, gestured with his head to the stairs and the burden he was carrying. She nodded, then made her own gestures to Caladbolg – she'd keep an eye on it.

He made it to an empty room, even with Caoilffhion's head snuggled distractingly into his collarbone, and deposited him on the first bed. He couldn't even get the coverlet pulled back before he did, with Caoilfhionn clinging to him like he was. It didn't matter. It wasn't like he'd catch cold. Humans just thought it odd when Sylvari didn't use blankets. "Wait here." Yes, there was a water pitcher and clay mugs, and he poured water for him. "Drink this."

"I've been drinkin'," Caoilfhionn objected.

"That you have. Drink it anyway." He would be all wilted come morning if he didn't take in some actual water as well.

Caoilfhionn did as he was told and then curled up on the bed. "G'd night, Tr'hearne."

"Good night, Caoilfhionn." And there he was – out like a candle.

Trahearne looked down on him in silence several minutes more, before he turned and slid down to sit with his back against the bedframe. "What are you doing to me, sapling?" he asked quietly, running a hand over his face. "Amaranda said you were destined for greatness… but I cannot become so attached yet…" And yet he was anyway. Even though there were a great many people who vaguely disliked him for reasons beyond his control, many people who respected him for his knowledge, and several people who owed him favours, there were still very few people who really liked him. As a friend. Unconditionally. Caithe, Amaranda, Izu, young Sieran…

And most of the time that was fine. The Mother Tree loved every one of her children, including him, and such friends as he did have were much appreciated, though really actually not very necessary. He spent most of his time alone, moving stealthily through a long-dead land, small and green amidst massive black stones; having a friend on Orr would only bring them both into danger. He liked being alone. He was of the Cycle of Dusk; he had been born the first of all of them; there had been a time, even if only for a few hours, when he was completely, utterly unique in all the world. Never lonely, for his Mother had been there for him, but alone.

And now there was this vibrant orchid-coloured ray of brave sunshine bursting into his life like the dawn, who apparently did not care that he studied the dead, who did not care that his Wyld Hunt was futile, who knew all the things that everyone else mocked and yet only looked at him with admiration and joy, as he had tonight. It was… refreshing, and gratifying, and brought him happiness. And that… was frightening. He had to wonder – how much would it hurt, if this bold young Valiant fell in battle in the near future, as he had nearly fallen that day? Life was so terribly fragile, and all his efforts could hardly protect any of it… let alone renew it… Did he even deserve to be happy, after so many years of… not exactly failure, but…?

"What am I going to do with you?"

He laughed quietly in self-deprecation. He wasn't going to do anything yet. Caoilfhionn would join the Durmand Priory and go off to see the world, and he was going back to Orr after this; their paths would probably not cross for a long time. And perhaps then his feelings would quiet within him, which would be for the best. Caoilfhionn would grow wiser, and learn not to stare at him with such unguarded reverence, and then he would not be in such danger.

But… he imagined they would meet again, sooner or later. Caoilfhionn's Wyld Hunt would lead him to Orr someday, if he lived long enough, and together with Caithe, they would try to put an end to Zhaitan and give him even the chance to attempt to fulfill his own Wyld Hunt. If that happened… he would be glad to see him again.

Caoilfhionn came back to consciousness in waves, and regretted it. As soon as he was awake enough to move, he clapped both hands over his forehead and let out a groan.

He sensed someone leaning over him, and heard Trahearne chuckle. "Had a bit too much last night, hmm?"

"What have I done?" he groaned dramatically. "I regret everything."

Trahearne found that very funny, it sounded. "Ah, well. You're young. Here, drink this."

He dragged himself to sitting with greater effort and discomfort than anything else he'd ever done in his entire short life, moaning as his skull throbbed. Blindly he took the cup Trahearne held for him and drank it. "It's bitter!"

"Powdered willow bark, among other things," Trahearne said. "It soothes pain. You should be feeling better in less than an hour."

"Pale Tree's grace, I hope so," Caoilfhionn said, finishing the mug and lying back down, putting his pillow over his head. "I'm ready to visit the Mists now."

Trahearne laughed. "The Mists can wait. I'm going down for breakfast with the others. We'll wait for you."

That made him feel a bit guilty, but there was nothing for it but to hope the willow bark worked.

At length, he thought the throbbing grew a bit less, and he managed to peel himself out of bed and found his boots. He only dimly remembered the previous night… trying as many different drinks as the tavern could serve, discovering how delightful it was to be tipsy, going over to… oh no.

But Trahearne had been there when he woke, had taken gentle care of him, had seemed amused with him… so perhaps he had not embarrassed himself too much? Or was that wishful thinking? Perhaps he'd blurted out something ill-advised and now Trahearne was laughing at him in his head-

That didn't seem the kind of thing he would do. Not after how awkwardly he'd taken the attentions of the young woman at Watchful Source. No, he probably hadn't said anything too foolish. Even if he had, all he could do now was pretend he hadn't, and go get breakfast.

He tried to be cheerful at breakfast, and Wegaff and Iowerth helped. Caithe had already left for Lion's Arch, but Wegaff would be going with him, and Iowerth with Trahearne, when he was finished eating.

When he was done, it was time to bid farewell – perhaps for a long time. He hadn't thought about it, but with the conclusion of this quest, he was bidding farewell to the Grove, to Caledon Forest, for surely the Priory would send him all over Tyria. It was exciting… and a bit sad, as well. To leave home so completely…

The Grove would always be there, though. He could always return. But would Trahearne be there?

"Well," Trahearne said, outside the inn, Caladbolg on his back, "it is time for us to part ways. Caoilfhionn, I wish you all the best with your friend Wegaff and the Priory. Know that if you should need me, I will be there. Our Wyld Hunts will bring us together once more."

He managed to smile, and he had to ask: "You… wouldn't be interested in coming with me, would you?" Once he delivered Caladbolg to the Pale Tree… It was too bold, asking a Firstborn to join him, but he had to try anyway!

Trahearne shook his head, but tempered it with a wistful smile. "No, I think not. I have more research to do on Orr. You'll do well without me, I know it." He paused awkwardly, and Caoilfhionn didn't know what to do either. At length, he bowed. "May your path be filled with adventure and joy. Until we meet again."

"Safe travels!" Caoilfhionn wished him, and watched them walk through the western gate.