Chapter 108: Double Vision
The party had managed to find a fairly out of the way spot, protected by some rocks, and settled down to camp for the night. Tension was visibly lessened now that they were away from Ust Natha and free from the watching, suspicious eyes of the drow, and although nobody in the party was in the state of mind to live life lightly, there was still a sense of enjoyment in the air. If the constant, bristling irritation of Anomen, the glowering of Jaheira, and the sulking of Harrian could be set to one side, that was.
Most fell asleep early, the day having been draining with marching and battles, and although they had made some good progress towards the city in their search for a camp site, it was still a long journey back the day after. The lack of sun made it hard to tell the time, and it was only through Jaheira and her connection to nature – still strong, even underground – which let them know if it was night-time or not.
On the whole, the party drifted off, shifting into smaller groups which sat and discussed for a time. Harrian, Minsc, Anomen and Edwin played cards for a short while, Boo giving Minsc as much advice as was possible; Jaheira grabbed Imoen and dragged her away from the camp to forage for new supplies which could be used for breakfast the next day; leaving Haer'Dalis and Aerie to clean the pots and pans they had used. There was no stream nearby, clearly, and so they used some of the now slightly stale drinking water the company had brought with it from Athkatla, knowing that they had much fresher supplies if any was needed and that they could replenish their stocks back at Ust Natha.
Haer'Dalis would be happy to admit it – though not too publicly, for nobody was ever well served by displaying their entire hand to the world at large – that he was fascinated by the Avariel. Behind her innocent demeanour there were clearly some deep, dark scars, the effects of which escaped every now and again… yet she somehow managed to remain naïve, sweet, and light. She had also been ignoring him somewhat, sitting in silence as they worked. This would not do at all…
"Your heart is heavy, my mourning dove?" he started, noting quietly that she jumped a little, having evidently been deep in thought, and the look on her face spoke of how these were plainly not too pleasant considerations. "Your eyes wander, I think, into dark and solemn places that others cannot see. Have a care, fair Aerie, lest they draw you in forever."
"It… it is nothing, Haer'Dalis, truly," Aerie replied, shaking her head and smiling uncomfortably. She shifted away, scrubbing at the pot to attempt to scrape the dried sauce that had stuck to the metal from it. "I was simply… thinking. Of a time when I still had my wings." She sighed, looking away, evidently not wanting too much to get into this conversation. "The memories… they wrench my soul, truly."
Haer'Dalis nodded, smiling a smile she didn't see, and when she turned back his face was the epitome of sympathy. "I think I can understand your loss, sweet one," he mused.
"Do you really? No… no offence intended, Haer'Dalis, but I can hardly see how you could understand, if you have never flown, never experienced these things," Aerie retorted, with a slight edge to her voice.
The bard paused, affecting a very thoughtful air. "Ah, but there are more ways to fly than with wings, my dove," he pointed out, sighing slightly for effect, aiming for drama without overacting. "And the fall to mundane earth is similarly filled with agony." He paused for a long moment, frowning as if thinking, waving a hand slightly, more focusing on simple recall than creative imaginings. When he spoke again, his voice was low, his expression serious, his tone melodious.
"My fall was not the thing, my love,
I thought I bore it well.
But to stare up into the heavens
from the darkened plains of hell,
and think that I, too, once walked those
endless heights
is a pain I cannot tell."
Aerie stared at him for a long moment, then glanced away, blushing a little, but the edge was not completely gone from her voice. "That… that was very lovely, Haer'Dalis," she managed slowly.
"They are but simple words, my dove," he sighed, mildly aware that she was not as moved as he had hoped. "For this bard to understand but a tiny fraction of your pain has cleft my heart in 'twain. You… have my deepest sympathy, sweet, lonely Aerie." She was evidently about to flee before him, his success a little more limited than he would have liked, so he decided to go for the more dramatic, debonair retreat as he stood with a flourish, kissing the Avariel's hand lightly before heading back towards his tent.
A few moments of watching as Aerie finished packing away their equipment made the odd glances she made in Harrian's expression quite obvious. Haer'Dalis smiled slightly to himself as he managed to put two and two together. So, our dove is placing her affections tentatively with our raven? Most intriguing, and a development which is bound to proceed most… delightfully. Perhaps it would be best to retire from these escapades for now, to see how matters proceed, as the end result is destined to be destruction of some sort. And if… if it all collapses, then this sparrow will be ready to swoop in to collect the pieces. For now, perhaps playing the part we have already won the audition for would be a more… fruitful endeavour?
He waited for a few minutes, sitting in the tent he shared with Minsc, lying down on his blankets to feign sleep if necessary. It was another half-hour before Jaheira and Imoen returned, the men finishing their game of cards, and Harrian instructed everyone that it was time to retire for the night. The bard smiled as he heard Imoen volunteer for the first watch, Anomen set for the second shift, then settled down as people retired to their tents.
Minsc crawled inside, the tent shaking a little as he knocked the frame and – evidently attempting to be quiet upon seeing Haer'Dalis apparently sleeping – did his best to clamber in to bed, murmuring occasionally to Boo. It was only when these whispers and the squeaks of reply had stopped and the giant ranger's breathing was deep and regular that Haer'Dalis dared move. He would tolerate no interruptions. It was time for the big performance.
He wriggled out of the tent, standing up and brushing himself down, knowing he could look better, but accepting the limits of the situation as he stepped forwards, heading for the fire at the centre of the camp, where a small figure, hunched over with a blanket thrown over their shoulders, sat.
"My wildflower?"
Imoen jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to face him, and smiled slightly. "Haer'Dalis! You… you startled me. Do you always have to creep up on people like that?" She frowned a little with the idle and innocent curiosity he had started to adore, and looked at him quizzically, continuing to speak before he could answer. "Why do you call me a wildflower, anyway, and not a bird? Everyone else is a bird… Harrian a raven, Jaheira a ptarmigan, Edwin a sparrow-hawk… though Minsc and Anomen are hounds…" The pink-haired mage's voice trailed off as she considered her own words, realising she was rambling a little.
Haer'Dalis shrugged as he moved over to sit next to her, assuming a considerate air. "Hmm, I suppose Anomen has changed so, becoming so chaotic that he is hardly as great a hound as Minsc. More of an…eagle, or some such. I shall have to consider this." He glanced sideways at her. "You are a wildflower, and not a bird, Imoen, because… well, you are different to the others. So very different you defy all that I had so far assumed about life and people. You go… beyond this."
Imoen raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. "Oh really? And you haven't got to know me well enough over the last month or so to realise that I'm not really innocent enough to go along with all your eloquence like that?"
Haer'Dalis managed to laugh lightly, inwardly delighting in the banter. "Ah, my wildflower, you challenge me at every turn! I try my best, though at the very core, it is enough for this sparrow to know that you have let me inside, to try to understand your pain since what you see as your fall from grace. I think… I do understand."
Imoen fixed him with a look, a grimace hidden a little in there as she took a deep breath, evidently searching for diplomacy. "Haer'Dalis… I'm not quite sure you… get this. Not quite sure you can. I mean, even Harrian doesn't – he understands the pain, sure, but doesn't quite get what it means to me… it's all different, and confusing. And it's more than a fall from grace," she added slowly, quietly. "It's a fall from everything. From goodness. From innocence."
"A fall… I can understand that," Haer'Dalis murmured. "A soul is not all that can take the wings out from under you as you fly, my wildflower. And the fall to mundane earth is just as agonising." He sighed deeply, sounding sympathetic but inwardly amazed and appreciative of the evident pattern emerging as he decided to carry on, testing the waters, more than happy to draw comparisons.
"My fall was not the thing, my love,
I thought I bore it well.
But to stare up into the heavens
from the darkened plains of hell,
and think that I, too, once walked those
endless heights
is a pain I cannot tell."
Imoen stared at him for a long moment, stretching her legs out a little on the ground before her, then turned her head and looked at the fire, crackling in the centre of the camp. "That's… beautiful, Haer'Dalis. Did you write it?"
"But a few moments ago, my wildflower," the bard lied with a slight, sympathetic smile. His expression was utterly serious, his tone more sincere and frank than anyone in the party had ever heard him speak, and he knew that that – that this – was what drove Imoen to letting him inside her heart and mind. He reached out to clasp arm slightly, then raised a hand to turn her head to face him. "You are not alone, my wildflower. I will always be here for you. You have my word, Imoen," he whispered, knowing that he had won as she offered no protest, did not pull away as he leant forward, pressing his lips against hers.