Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein.
Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them.
I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.

– Blackcross & Taylor

Friends

Fritha was running desperately fast, aware of sound all around her. Her lungs screaming for air, she plunged on through the undergrowth, branches snaring on her clothes as she fled. Suddenly something caught her foot and before she knew it she was on the ground, her mouth filling with dirt and leaves as she cried out in surprise. She kicked out franticly, flipping on to her back to defend herself only to find her assailant was nothing more than a gnarled old root. She laid there a moment, her breath coming in sharp gasps as the pain from her stitch reached a crescendo before panic filled her again. A heartbeat later, she had staggered to her feet and set off once more; flying through the trees as fast as before.

Finally, she halted, stepping round a tree and throwing herself into a bush. She crouched there, her skin trembling with the force of the pulse behind it, straining to hear the sounds of her pursuers over the roar of blood in her ears. She was alone.
Her breathing, already heavy, began to come in shuddering gasps.
Shaking, she slumped back against the tree and wept.

xxx

Fritha jerked awake, almost falling from her perch in the beech tree she had climbed the night before and instantly grabbing a branch above her to steady herself. The sun had risen and the leaves around her were wet with dew; how long had she slept for? She heard movement beneath her and her heart seemed to stop. She peered down through the leaves, not daring to breathe, until she focused on a familiar cerise head.
It was Imoen.

All at once she was flooded with relief and practically collapsed down from the tree to greet her.
'Imoen.'
The girl jumped slightly and turned to face her. They stood a moment looking at each other before rushing forward into a fierce embrace.
'Gods, Fritha, I was so worried! There was no sign of you anywhere,' Imoen cried as they parted before her voice dropped suddenly and she continued in almost a whisper, 'I…I saw what happened to Gorion…I'm so sorry.'
Fritha swallowed back a new wave of tears and looking past her relief at having her friend with her, realised the fact that Imoen was outside Candlekeep and had come to find her.

'You… you know about that?'
'You know the monks that were expected from the Carleck Order? They arrived last night talking about hearing the sounds of fighting. They thought it was bandits but…'
'How could you have known it was us?'
'I read a letter on his desk the other day,' Imoen said, shaking her head, sadly, 'I can't remember exactly what it said, I got disturbed, only that you were in some kind of danger. When I heard that there'd been an attack not half a mile from the Keep, well…here I am.'
Fritha felt awful. Now they were both in danger and it was all her fault.

'Oh, Imoen, they won't let us back in, you know. You never-'
'Oh don't start on with that, I had enough hassle from Winthrope before I left.'
Imoen grinned.
'I'm here now, so what are we going to do?'
Fritha smiled weakly, rubbing her face briskly in an effort to wake up.

'Right, Gorion said his friends were staying at the Friendly Arm Inn and that I should head there if…'
She shook herself, unwilling to think of what happened. Imoen noticed, putting an arm round her shoulders.
'Perhaps we should go back there, see the body… say goodbye…'
'No. I'm never going back there,' she answered with finality, starting the walk northward, 'come on, we can make it by sundown if we hurry.'

xxx

The day had turned out to be as fine as the one before and Imoen felt she could have quite enjoyed her walk in the woods had it been under other circumstances. Fritha seemed to be bearing up well though, even if she was a little terse sometimes…

'Well, you were a bit rude to him considering he was a stranger and all,' she said reproachfully as she and Fritha discussed an odd encounter they'd just had further down the path.
'No I wasn't, I just pointed out that going around asking people about their mental stability was a bit of an insane thing to do. Besides, he didn't seem offended.'
'No…' she admitted slowly, 'but he was a bit strange, wasn't he.'
'Yes, well that's mages for you,' said Fritha knowledgeable, 'the magic messes with their heads. More magic-users suffer from insanity than in any other profession, bar milliners.'

'Where d'you learn that?'
'During my research for 'The History of Magic Use: from the Discovery of the Nether Scrolls to present day'. It was one of the essays Jesseth set me so he didn't have to teach me any actual spells. Said I couldn't be trusted.'
Imoen smiled. That sounded like Jesseth.
'And what did he say when you presented him with that fact.'
Fritha shrugged.
'Nothing, but he did increase the word limit by four thousand. Hey look,' said Fritha, pointing, 'there's someone up ahead.'

Imoen gazed up the path to see what looked to be a man and a halfling watching them approach. The man was tall and narrow, dressed in tatty green robes. His were eyes darting here and there, emphasised by the strange tattoos that surrounded them. The halfling wore simple clothes in various shades of brown, blending with his own earthy pallor so the only real point of colour were the gold earrings that hung from ear each.

'Hold Montaron, this young wayfarer is in need. Someone has set about thee stranger and ye have barely escaped with your life,' said the man, addressing Fritha with a concerned smile.
'Aye Xzar, looks to have been roughed up quite well,' agreed the halfling, although Imoen found his look to be more 'professional appraisal' than concerned.
'Indeed. I can offer you a healing potion if you wish, as a token of goodwill.'
'Ah, thanks but I'm okay, it looks worse than it is,' said Fritha, pulling a twig from her hair.

Imoen felt suspicious of the interest these strangers were showing. They'd brushed the worst of the dirt off her tunic when they'd stopped for a snack at lunchtime and Fritha's hair always tended to be a bit on the wild side. Apart from a dark bruise blossoming along the line of her jaw, Imoen thought she looked fine.

'As you wish,' Xzar continued, with a little giggle, 'but you seem of the adventuring sort, perhaps you would go with us Nashkel. It is a troubled area and we mean to investigate some disturbing rumours surrounding the local mine. The iron suffers some disease, leading to a shortage. We are to meet the mayor of the town, a Berrun Ghasthill I believe.'

Imoen eyed the men. Xzar had begun gnawing his fingers muttering softly to himself while Montaron was leering and her and Fritha, cleaning his nails with a vicious-looking dagger. Imoen suppressed a shudder. Fritha glanced back to her and she tried to indicate in everything but words that she did not like this plan. Fritha just shrugged though, turning back to the strangers.

'Sure, we will join with you, but we must meet someone at the Friendly Arm Inn first, you can come too though, if you like.'
To Imoen's dismay, the men reluctantly agreed and continued the journey north. Imoen hung back though, grabbing the collar of her friend's tunic to stop her too.
'Fritha, do you really think this is a good idea?' she hissed with a wary glance to the men's retreating backs.
'Yes, why not? If they had wanted to harm us, surely they would have attacked outright? Besides, Gorion said it would be safer to travel in groups.'
Fritha gave her a smile and started to follow their new companions.
'I'm not so sure with these two.' Imoen muttered darkly before jogging after her.

xxx

Imoen scowled again at the figure of Montaron walking next to her, the silence between them crackling with animosity. Behind her she could hear Fritha's familiar giggle punctuate the friendly chatter between her and Xzar as they brought up the rear.
How can she like him? wondered Imoen crossly for the sixth time that afternoon. Fritha made no sense sometimes, Xzar and Montaron were clearly very suspect; they both knew this. She'd spoken to Fritha about the fact continuously as they'd followed the men north.

Earlier, in an effort to be friendly, Imoen had tried asking them about their mission to Nashkel. Xzar had just muttered something about 'their group wanted the issue looked into' before quickly changing the subject and Montaron had actually threatened her with bodily harm when she brought it up. A fact that Fritha contested when she complained to her later, claiming "Shut yer mouth or I'll shut it for ye" was something that she herself would soon be saying to Imoen if she didn't stop going on about it.

At first she thought that Fritha just hadn't realised that their companions were less than trustworthy, but it had turned out she thought exactly the same as Imoen.
'Then, why are we travelling with them?' Imoen had questioned, exasperated by the fact that Fritha didn't seem to be taking it too seriously.

'Because it's a lot safer than travelling on our own! Look, I know they're probably not best choice for travelling companions and we can't trust them for a second, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends,' she'd answered with a grin. But, on seeing Imoen's increasing annoyance, had added, 'Imoen, I can't just dislike people because they are "evil". Necessity demands we travel with them and I don't see why I should pretend to be all cross about it when I'm not.'
Imoen had not wanted to let the issue lie though which was possibly why, after a few minutes, Fritha had struck up a conversation with Xzar and why she was still stuck walking next to Montaron over an hour later.

Imoen sighed inwardly. Fritha's attitude of 'live and let live' was all right in theory, but such an open nature could lead to danger. She scowled again as laughter pealed out from the couple behind her, glancing up to the heavens with a prayer on her lips only to find it already answered. Just above the trees she could make out the grey of battlements against the sky; the Friendly Arm Inn.

They joined the short queue that was moving slowly through the gate as they arrived and but a few minutes later, after a prolonged explanation of the rules, they were allowed to enter. Inside the high stone walls, a few houses, stables and a temple were found, all dominated by the imposing keep that towered at their centre. It was a large building, at least as large as Candlekeep but the architecture was much plainer, as though the original builders had more pressing concerns on their minds.

Fritha led the way, following the guards' directions and walking to the steps on the east side of the keep.
At the top stood a man in dark grey robes watching all who approached. His eyes drifted over them absently before suddenly snapping back to her.

'Ho friend,' he said, walking down the steps to her, 'I've not seen you here before today. What brings you to the Friendly Arm Inn?'
'Nothing much really,' said Fritha, sending a puzzled glance behind her to Xzar and Imoen, 'just looking for a place to rest.'
He smiled widely in a way that she didn't quite trust.
'I see, I see. Pardon my being too forward, but you've the bearing of someone I've been looking for. Might you have travelled from Candlekeep by any chance?'

'I may have visited there on occasion,' Fritha replied with what she hoped looked like a casual shrug, 'so?'
'Oh, nothing really, I'm just looking for someone from that region. Would your name be Fritha by any chance?'
His voice was calm, friendly even, but his eyes where sharp and alert, studying her face intently. She forced herself to meet his gaze.
'Never heard that name before in my life, sorry,' she said, making to walk past him. Instantly an arm was barring her way.
'Really, I would beg to differ. Don't move, I have something for you…'

Fritha jumped back with a little scream, as suddenly there was not one man before her, but six, all making the same movements, their dull chanting filling the air. She drew her sword, slashing wildly at the nearest figure; she had to break his concentration or the next spell he cast could be the last thing she'd ever see. One of Imoen's arrows flew past and the figure finally disappeared while behind her she could hear Xzar reciting a spell of his own.

They were running out of time though. The man's hands were moving more violently and at their centre, she could see an arrow forming. There were two figures left when the chanting finally stopped. He looked up and Fritha, panic fuelling her, made a last ditch attack, swinging at and straight through the left figure. The last copy flickered out. For a split second, the burning arrow hovered meaningfully in his hands. The man caught her eye and smiled, the energy between his palms surging as the arrow readied for release. And then it stopped.

Fritha watched, horrified, as the eyes widened and the smile twisted in to an agonised grimace. The arrow faded as he clutched at his chest, finally slumping to the ground. Behind him stood a familiar figure, half cloaked in the shadow of the steps.
'Montaron?'

The halfling was grinning proudly, showing both rows of uneven brown teeth and, in Fritha's opinion taking, far to much enjoyment in what he had just done. He sheathed his dagger and Imoen stared, aghast as the thief bent down and began to frisk the body.
'Come on, he can't hurt ye now,' he said almost kindly.

Fritha shrugged slightly and, wincing, crouched down to help him search. Imoen, though, flatly refused and walked a little way off while they worked, as though even watching such things offended her.
There wasn't much on the body; Montaron pocketed what little gold there was, but Fritha found a couple of scrolls tucked in his belt that she went to show to Imoen. Apparently, Imoen's problem with robbing bodies did not extend to the spoils, especially ones so tempting; Imoen had been fascinated with magic for as long as Fritha could remember.

'Look what I found, Imoen,' she called, tossing the parchment to her.
'Ooo, a spell!' her friend breathed, holding it with a care that bordered on reverence, 'what's that one?'
'Bounty notice,' she answered with a shrug, 'but they're only offering two hundred gold pieces. No one half-decent is going to bother chasing me about for that.'
'Oi, ye coming?'
Fritha looked round to see Montaron halfway up the stairs, the hem of Xzar's robes just disappearing through the door.

Inside, Fritha found a larger and much busier version of Winthrop's inn. People were everywhere, sat and stood in couples and groups while waitresses bustled between them. Fritha was reminded of the time Tethtoril showed her the hive he kept round the back of the keep; all those bees buzzing about their lives, unaware of how fragile their existence actually was, unaware of them or the power they held. She had told Tethtoril she felt like a god watching those bees, but he had just laughed gently and sent her back to her chores.

'Fritha? Hello?'
Imoen was waving a hand in front of her face.
'Sorry, I got distracted.'
'Yeah, I realised,' she said with a grin, 'I said, shall we go and look for those friends?'
'Yes,' Fritha answered, turning to the men, 'we had best go and find them.'
Montaron nodded.
'Fine. We'll be at the bar. Xzar…Xzar?'

The necromancer was busy scribbling in a small book, muttering to himself. Montaron elbowed him viciously in the ribs.
'Ah! Right, well, we shall go and ah, fetch some drinks.'
Fritha nodded and they parted, the two men disappearing off into the crowd.
'Thank Mask they're gone,' sighed Imoen with a passion.
'Huh, you'd have missed them when we met that bounty hunter!' said Fritha sharply, scanning about the room, 'come on, let's hope Gorion's friends are more to your taste.'

This proved to be a more difficult task than first expected though and it was not until after their third circle of the room that they met with success. Fritha and Imoen were stood by the stairs, discussing whether or not to start searching the upper floors when a voice rang out over the din.
'Hey!'

They turned at the sound to see two lightly armoured figures, both of an elven heritage, stood in the nearby corner. They were of equal height but both were taller than her and Imoen, the woman lightly tanned, tawny wavy hair stopping at her shoulders while the man was paler, his dark auburn hair tied back off his face.
Fritha tensed as they approached.
'If they do anything, run for it, okay?'
Imoen nodded.

'Something about you is f-familiar, child,' stuttered the man, narrowing his deep blue eyes.
Fritha frowned slightly; they could at least vary their banter.
'Your manner reminds me of a sage I know b-by the name of Gorion.'
That got her attention though and she heard Imoen's surprised gasp behind her.
'It does?'
'It is almost a slight on him, but I see it too,' said the woman dryly, and Fritha caught Imoen with an elbow just in time to stop any retort.

'I'm Fritha and this is Imoen, Gorion was my foster father.'
'Was? He is not with you?' continued the woman, looking alarmed, 'I must assume the worst; he would not permit his only child to wander without his accompaniment.'
'I am Khalid and this is Jaheira,' said the man with a kind smile, 'we are old friends of your adopted father if…if he has passed, we share your loss.'
'Gorion often said that he worried for your safety, even at the expense of his own,' Jaheira said brusquely. 'He also wished that Khalid and I would become your guardians if he should ever meet an untimely end. However, you are much older now and the choice of your companions should be your own.'

Fritha felt slightly hurt that Gorion seemed to have always known of this danger, even to the point where she had been assigned guardians, and he had never told her.
'We could t-travel with you until you get settled; help you find your l-lot in life.'
'Khalid and I are to look in to local concerns and there are rumours of strange things happening at the Nashkel mine. No doubt you have heard of the iron shortage? You would do well to help us. It affects everyone, including you. We are to meet the mayor of the town Berrun Ghasthill.'

'We're already going to Nashkel. Our current companions wish to visit there as well,' said Fritha, brightening as, on cue, Xzar and Montaron arrived back from the bar.
'Ah, Fritha, here is thy- oh'
'Xzar, Montaron, allow me to present Khalid and Jaheira, old friends of my father.'
The tension was palpable as an awkward silence descended onto the group. 'Indeed? Interesting…' said Jaheira finally, casting a coldly critical eye over the two, 'in that case I think we should definitely travel as one. You can never be too careful about the dangers of the open road, wherever they may spring from…'

Xzar and Montaron took one look at each other and excused themselves, having a furtive conversation a few paces away before Xzar scurried back to them.
'Ah, er, Fritha, a word if thee please,' he mumbled, trying to avoid Jaheira's gaze and Fritha followed him back to the halfling.
Xzar glanced to his companion who scowled and nodded impatiently.
'Montaron and, er, I have decided it would be for the best if we went our separate ways. Our undertakings and those of thy friends may, ah, differ in the future so we leave for Nashkel, ah, now.'
'Oh, okay…'
Fritha shrugged in acceptance; at least Imoen would be happy.
'Per-Perhaps, we shall meet again soon,' the mage ventured with another glance to Montaron.
'Bye then,' Fritha smiled, reaching out to warmly shake his hand, 'safe journey.'
Xzar stood staring at her in a dazed sort of way until Montaron slapped his arm. 'Oh yes, ah, farewell.'

Fritha watched them leave the inn, before turning back to what was left of the group. Imoen was laughing about something while it looked as though Khalid was trying to talk Jaheira away from throttling her. Fritha sighed.
Why did she have the feeling that in a few hours time she would be longing for the company of a murderous halfling and a mad necromancer?

xxx

Jaheira stood a moment staring at her reflection in the candlelight. The lines seemed more pronounced tonight, or perhaps it was just her. She sighed, pulling on her shirt and running a hand through her hair.
'Perhaps it would be best if we just took them back to Candlekeep, the road is no place for such young girls.'

Khalid looked up from the book he had been pretending to read and watched his wife combing her hair. He had been expecting this ever since dinner.
'Jaheira, they will not let them back in and you know it. It took all Gorion's influence to allow her to stay there, with him gone-'
'Fine!' she snapped slamming down the comb and sitting down at the foot of the bed, 'but what are we supposed to do? Take them with us? You saw them at dinner, they are far too young to be travelling in these times!'
Khalid sighed, unwilling to have an argument so late in the day.

'They are both of age and managed to get here without our assistance.'
'Yes, and with the two worst companions imaginable! Who knows what would have happened to them if they had not found us.'
He smiled; it was nice to know that under her pretence of annoyance, she was concerned for their safety, even if she would never admit it.

'They are young in judgement, I agree,' he said calmly, patting the bed next to him and putting out the candle, 'but they will mature soon enough when the situation demands it.'
Jaheira looked unconvinced but did shift over to him and lay down under the covers. Khalid lay down too, nestling up to his wife.
'Things will be fine, dearest, trust me.'

xxx

Imoen sat in bed, watching Fritha's face in the mirror as she stood braiding her hair.
'Maybe we should tell them we've changed our minds, you know, go our own way…' she suggested slowly, trying to gauge her reaction.
'And do what?' Fritha snorted, turning to face her, 'we've nowhere to stay and no money unless you plan on turning bounty hunter.'

Imoen scowled at the bounty notice Fritha had just tossed in front of her. Not only was she right about having no home or money, it was also a subtle reminded that there were people out there wanting to kill her; this was not a time they should be travelling alone.
'I know, I know,' Imoen conceded, answering her own voice of reason as well as Fritha's, 'but you saw them at dinner, that Jaheira woman hates us already, I can tell!'
Fritha nodded tiredly before giving a shrug and moving over to the bed.

'Gorion said we can trust them and that's good enough for me. Look, they got rid of Xzar and Montaron; I thought you'd be singing their praises for that! Here, skoosh over,' she said, lifting the blanket and shooing her with her hand.
'Yeah, I suppose,' Imoen sighed, lying down, 'it's just things'll be no fun with that druid around.'
'Oh, Imoen,' Fritha smiled, leaning over to blow out the candle, 'things will be fine, trust me.'