** Author's Note: Yes, the story has been moving a little slow lately,
and I'm afraid this chapter is no different. I'll try to fix that soon.
WotC owns everything Dungeons and Dragons related. I own nothing of
consequence. I am in debt up to my ears, and will be probably for the rest
of my natural life. The song Weylyn sings is called "Pirate's Life." It
was written by Gregg Csikos and can be found on The Corsair's 'Purple
Album'. Weylyn belongs to me. General situation debt to the campaigns of
my good friends Tim and Jen, I love you both and promise I will bring more
cookies next time. Ellywick belongs to Jo, who is welcome to her. ~EC **
Somewhere, on a beach of dazzling white sand glowing brightly under an even more dazzling yellow sun, a breeze leaped up. It tripped laughingly over the white tops of the tiny breakers that ran ceaselessly to shore and ruffled the pearly grey wings of seagulls and gannets and the darker wings of a single, lonely hawk that circled lazily almost out of sight. It ran along the shore and sent minute whirlwinds of sand skittering in all directions before tossing them aside and racing off again. It paused a moment to lift the golden hair of a little lone traveler, blowing it in all directions and making her laugh into the bright blue of the sky and the sweet tang of the sea wind.
She was dressed simply. A well worn, cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and currently whipping about in the playful wind. Her bodice was bright blue and laced up tightly over a puffy chemise that may once have been white. The summer sun glinted almost blindingly over at least a dozen bangles strung loosely about her delicate wrists. Her wild blonde hair was pulled back half-hazardly behind her severely pointed ears and held there with a dubiously knotted strap of leather. She swung a walking stick jauntily and hummed to herself whatever small nothings that came to mind as she strolled down the soft sands.
The day was full of endless shining possibilities. She was alone and free as the sea air, young and strong and ready to face whatever today had to throw at her. So far, all it seemed to have to throw at her was pleasant. She laughed. Adventuring wasn't nearly as bad as some of the more grumpy people made it out to be.
Suddenly, a faint sound caught her ears, and she paused mid stride. The wailing gulls and the breeze tore it away, though, and though she listened for a few moments she could not catch it again. She shrugged and continued on her walk, only to stop again as the soft strains came to her ears once more. She paused and listened hard, raising her eyebrows in surprise. There definitely was something there. And, what's more, she almost thought she could hear the faint traces of words.
Giving in to her ever present curiosity, the girl tilted her head to better catch the sound and started following it across the wide stretch of beach. As she walked farther, the noise became clearer with every step. She eventually neared a small grouping of carelessly waving palm trees, and her eyes widened slightly as she heard the unmistakable sound of someone singing in an enthusiastic baritone.
".well, it's wonderful livin' the life of a pirate
With the freedom to take what we can.
And we'll sail the world over a-searchin' for plunder
Not fearin' to face any man."
She scrabbled closer to the knot of trees, her curiosity nearly unbearable. The voice was rich and clear, but seemed to waver and trip uncertainly at some points. The invisible singer also seemed to have trouble remembering the words occasionally and would hum quietly before picking up again with renewed gusto.
".we call no man our master, no lord and no king.
Not long in one place do we stay."
Nearly there.nearly there. She crept forward, silent as a little weasel and gripping her staff tightly. Better safe than sorry. She didn't care how nice of a voice this invisible person had. People could be just downright *mean* sometimes.
".and this world is for those
who can grab it and hold it
Possession's the law of the day."
Reaching the copse of palms, finally, the girl peeked cautiously through the branches of trees and beach scrub to get a glimpse of the singer. There, leaning wearily against the trunk of a bent palm and clutching a half filled bottle, sat a young man. His long black hair was in disarray and full of sand. His features were angular and fair enough that the girl nearly pegged him as an elf, but soft enough that she wasn't quite so sure after a little more careful observation.
Her eyes widened sympathetically, as she noticed that he also seemed to have had his shirt stolen, and was covered from navel to eyebrows in bruises and nasty looking cuts. He seemed oblivious to these, however, as he continued belting his song to the heavens, finishing with a flourish and raising the half empty bottle in salute before draining a large quantity of its contents.
As she watched, the young man swirled the last dregs of amber liquid within the bottle halfheartedly, and then with a sudden burst of wild energy heaved the bottle with a broken angry cry into the gently sparkling sea. His shoulders heaved softly as he stood there; swaying slightly and watching the bottle become a speck against the blue horizon. The girl tilted her head slightly, as she thought she heard him half singing to the silent sea.
"Drink up, me hearties, yo ho. . ."
With that, he sank slowly to his knees, his forehead pressed against the wet sand. His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, though the girl heard no sound escape from his lips. She chewed her lip apprehensively, her caution battling heavily with her naturally big heart. It was true that he was a stranger, and a dangerous looking one to boot, but. . . Well. . . She couldn't leave anyone alone when they were *crying*. No matter how scary looking they were.
She tiptoed silently up behind him, the quiet sounds of his sorrow reaching her ears as she did so. Tentatively, she reached a small hand forward to lay it gently on his back.
"Hey. . ." she whispered. "Hey. . . Are you alright?"
Faster than her eyes could register, the stranger whirled around and grabbed her wrist in a death grip, and she found herself staring into a pair of green eyes that were less than entirely sane. She bit back a yell of terror; so all that escaped her lips was a small frightened squeak.
The half-crazed young man lifted her to eye level, letting her feet dangle several feet above the sand. He eyed her with a dispassionate sneer warring with the confusion and sadness in his eyes before tossing her roughly to the ground.
"A gnome." He snorted derisively. "Leave me in peace, Toadstool; I haven't the patience right now for the inane jabberings of little people."
The little gnome drew herself to her full height and glared icily up at Weylyn. "My name, Longshanks, is Ellywick. NOT Toadstool, or Tiny, or Short Stuff. And I'll have you know that it isn't considered wise to call powerful wizards mean names." She stuck out her tongue cheekily. "I was *going* to ask if you needed any help, but now I'm not so sure I won't just turn you into a spotted toad and be done with it. You. . .you. . . you poncey elf git!" She sniffed haughtily and turned her back to him.
With a half growl, Weylyn lunged for the dagger in his boot, but was brought up short by the sudden and familiar stab of blinding agony burning through the tattoo on his arm. Weylyn stumbled to his knees, gritting his teeth as the pain lanced down his arm and across his chest, making it difficult to breath. Through the haze permeating his thinking, Olidammara's mocking voice rang lightly through his brain.
"I'm only going to tell you this once, Weylyn, so listen well. I don't believe pulling knives on innocent little girls is exactly conducive to your newfound heroic tendencies. I'm not going to tolerate villainy on your behalf anymore so you had best *watch it*."
As suddenly as it had come, the pain and the voice left him, and Weylyn slumped to the ground with a strangled cry, clutching at his arm. Ellywick looked on, her eyes huge. Rushing over as he fell, she leaned over his still form, biting her lip. She poked him softly in the shoulder, wincing as his eyes partially opened. Trying to swallow her hesitation, the little gnome scooted closer.
"I can heal you, you know. If you like." She said shyly.
Weylyn just closed his eyes tiredly and nodded his head. Ellywick smiled happily and, cracking her knuckles theatrically, placed her hands on either side of his face, scrunching up her brows in concentration. As Ellywick began mumbling softly to herself, a bright blue haze crept across Weylyn's vision. He arched his back as the raw magic coursed through his body like liquid fire, forcing his wounds to close. It was not an altogether pleasant experience.
"There!" She chirped brightly. "All better!"
Weylyn sat up stiffly, rubbing his eyelids. "That," he sighed softly, "Is entirely a matter of opinion." The two sat in separate silence for awhile, watching the hissing sea as Weylyn scratched reflectively at his newly formed scars. Ellywick's irrepressible nature eventually won over, however, and she scooted closer to Weylyn once again.
"My name's Ellywick. Oh!" she said. "I already told you that, didn't I?" She looked at her hands, feeling her ears turn pink. "Well, it is. Ellywick, that is. What's yours?" she finished in a flustered rush.
Weylyn turned his head to glance wearily at the gnome. Finally he shrugged. Now was as good a time as any to start being. . . nice. He shuddered.
"My name is Weylyn," he said. "Weylyn Bla. . ." He paused. His name had gotten out in his years of piracy, and there was the added problem that there was probably a larger price on his head than he cared to think about. However harmless this air-headed little gnome seemed, he couldn't trust her not to turn him in for a little easy coin. Either way, he didn't want to scare her off just yet. Not until he had a little more information about where he had washed up. ". . .Ahh. . .just Weylyn. JUST Weylyn and nothing else," he finished hurriedly, mentally smacking his forehead at how obvious the lie sounded even to his own ears.
"Oh," said Ellywick brightly. "That's a nice name." She scuffed her feet in the sand for a few moments, feeling slightly awkward. Finally, she burst out. "Why were you crying Weylyn?"
Weylyn raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Nosy little thing, aren't you?" he snapped. She gulped embarrassedly, and he sighed, trying to swallow his temper.** Nice. I have to be nice. Gallant. Heroic.** He gazed off into the horizon, at the sky that was beginning to glow gold and crimson as the sun started its slow decent. He didn't turn back to Ellywick as he answered her softly.
"I was saying goodbye. . .Ellywick. I lost a lot of mates today," he buried his face in his hands. "And one very dear friend. The sea takes its price. Always." He sighed and turned away from her, laughing bitterly. "And it took everything from me today, up to, and including, my freedom."
Ellywick's eyes grew huge in her little pointed face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Weylyn barked a short laugh. "Yes. So am I." He dusted the sand from his breeches and his long black leather boots and started to stand. "Well, this little conversation has been really lovely, but I'm afraid I must be on my way. If you could point the way to the nearest town, my lady, I should be forever indebted."
Ellywick scrambled to her feet. "Wait!" she called. "You can't go off by yourself, all alone! I'll come with you." She smiled hugely. "It'll be fun. You'll see."
Weylyn gave her a blank stare. "Yes, well. You're a very nice little gnome person and all, and I like you very much but. . . Mmmmm, how do I put this? No." Not waiting for her reaction, he turned briskly on his heel and started walking in what he hoped was the direction for the nearest town.
"Weylyyyyn!" Ellywick scampered after him, trying to match her petite strides to his long ones and practically bouncing with each step. "Please? Please please please? I'm lonely and you're lonely, and every good adventurer needs a wizard by their side. And I think all you really need to put that frowny face behind you is a big hug."
Weylyn, whose jaw had become increasingly sore from gritting his teeth against this cheerful tirade, let out a strangled "Gack!" as Ellywick attached herself fondly to his leg, pitching him forward onto the sand. Now that he was down at her level, Ellywick wasted no time in relocating herself to his neck, half strangling him with affection before he managed to disentangle her.
Finally pulling free, Weylyn took Ellywick none too gently by the shoulders and looked her square in the eyes with what he hoped was a cheerful and understanding expression. Unfortunately, it looked more like someone trying to swallow whole lemon slices.
"Ellywick. Thank you. Really. But.. . .ahh. . ." He closed his eyes and rubbed fitfully at his temples. "I've known you for five minutes and you're already irritating the hell out of me. I don't think," he patted her shoulder, "teaming up is the best idea."
Ellywick's big brown eyes filled up slowly with huge, wet tears. Plopping down on the sand in an inconsolable heap, she started sobbing in a long, high pitched wail.
"You don't *like* meeeeee." The little gnome shuddered in despair, ignoring Weylyn's awkward and increasingly frantic attempts to get her to stop. He wasn't very good dealing with crying women, at least, not in ways that didn't involve back-handing them. Her cries reaching amazing ear- splitting climaxes before plunging down into low, heart breaking sobs. Weylyn finally threw up his arms in complete surrender.
"Oh, for the sake of Pelor. . . Fine! You win!" Crouching down, he scooped up the still wailing gnome and slung her over his shoulder and started stomping loudly down the beach again.
Ellywick's sobs soon changed into little sniffles and the odd hiccough. She squirmed lightly in his grasp and stared down at the constant motion of the heels of his boots. "What do you think you're doing?"
Weylyn shifted her higher on his shoulder and tightened his lips. "You are a damsel. You are in distress. I am rescuing you. Got it?" He tried to turn his head so she could hear him better from her odd position. "It's heroic."
Ellywick tried to squirm around to better face him. "You mean I can come with you? Really really? We can be partners?"
Weylyn sighed resignedly against the headache that was starting to reassert itself. "Considering my peculiar circumstances, I don't think I have much of a choice. It isn't very," he grimaced "gallant to leave a lady alone and unprotected. Or at least, so I've heard. I'm afraid I'm stuck with you."
Ellywick shrieked in delight. "You really won't regret this. A wizard's a very useful thing to have around, you know. And I'll cheer you up too, I promise! It'll be lots and lots of fun. . ." Chatting all the while, she moved around in Weylyn's arms until he was carrying her like a small child, one arm beneath her arms and one beneath her knees, with her head resting lightly on his shoulder.
"Ahh. . . Ellywick?" Weylyn intoned lightly. "Here's an idea. How does walking on your own damn feet sound?"
Ellywick only giggled. "Nope. I'm the damsel in distress. Have to be carried. You don't have a choice." She stuck her tongue out at him and fell into silver giggles again.
Weylyn gave an exasperated sigh. "Just thought I'd check." He continued trudging northward, past the beaches and, according to Ellywick, towards the nearest town.
Night began to fall swiftly in ribbons of lavender, gold and blue. Ellywick, soothed by the rocking motion of Weylyn's walk, snuggled her head into his shoulder and was soon dozing lightly. Lulled by her soft breathing and the song of the sea, Weylyn fought to suppress a small smile and, to his annoyance, lost. Gazing up at the young stars just showing their faces, he laughed quietly to them.
"Hello, I don't think we've been introduced. My name is just Weylyn, and I. . . am a hero."
Somewhere, on a beach of dazzling white sand glowing brightly under an even more dazzling yellow sun, a breeze leaped up. It tripped laughingly over the white tops of the tiny breakers that ran ceaselessly to shore and ruffled the pearly grey wings of seagulls and gannets and the darker wings of a single, lonely hawk that circled lazily almost out of sight. It ran along the shore and sent minute whirlwinds of sand skittering in all directions before tossing them aside and racing off again. It paused a moment to lift the golden hair of a little lone traveler, blowing it in all directions and making her laugh into the bright blue of the sky and the sweet tang of the sea wind.
She was dressed simply. A well worn, cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and currently whipping about in the playful wind. Her bodice was bright blue and laced up tightly over a puffy chemise that may once have been white. The summer sun glinted almost blindingly over at least a dozen bangles strung loosely about her delicate wrists. Her wild blonde hair was pulled back half-hazardly behind her severely pointed ears and held there with a dubiously knotted strap of leather. She swung a walking stick jauntily and hummed to herself whatever small nothings that came to mind as she strolled down the soft sands.
The day was full of endless shining possibilities. She was alone and free as the sea air, young and strong and ready to face whatever today had to throw at her. So far, all it seemed to have to throw at her was pleasant. She laughed. Adventuring wasn't nearly as bad as some of the more grumpy people made it out to be.
Suddenly, a faint sound caught her ears, and she paused mid stride. The wailing gulls and the breeze tore it away, though, and though she listened for a few moments she could not catch it again. She shrugged and continued on her walk, only to stop again as the soft strains came to her ears once more. She paused and listened hard, raising her eyebrows in surprise. There definitely was something there. And, what's more, she almost thought she could hear the faint traces of words.
Giving in to her ever present curiosity, the girl tilted her head to better catch the sound and started following it across the wide stretch of beach. As she walked farther, the noise became clearer with every step. She eventually neared a small grouping of carelessly waving palm trees, and her eyes widened slightly as she heard the unmistakable sound of someone singing in an enthusiastic baritone.
".well, it's wonderful livin' the life of a pirate
With the freedom to take what we can.
And we'll sail the world over a-searchin' for plunder
Not fearin' to face any man."
She scrabbled closer to the knot of trees, her curiosity nearly unbearable. The voice was rich and clear, but seemed to waver and trip uncertainly at some points. The invisible singer also seemed to have trouble remembering the words occasionally and would hum quietly before picking up again with renewed gusto.
".we call no man our master, no lord and no king.
Not long in one place do we stay."
Nearly there.nearly there. She crept forward, silent as a little weasel and gripping her staff tightly. Better safe than sorry. She didn't care how nice of a voice this invisible person had. People could be just downright *mean* sometimes.
".and this world is for those
who can grab it and hold it
Possession's the law of the day."
Reaching the copse of palms, finally, the girl peeked cautiously through the branches of trees and beach scrub to get a glimpse of the singer. There, leaning wearily against the trunk of a bent palm and clutching a half filled bottle, sat a young man. His long black hair was in disarray and full of sand. His features were angular and fair enough that the girl nearly pegged him as an elf, but soft enough that she wasn't quite so sure after a little more careful observation.
Her eyes widened sympathetically, as she noticed that he also seemed to have had his shirt stolen, and was covered from navel to eyebrows in bruises and nasty looking cuts. He seemed oblivious to these, however, as he continued belting his song to the heavens, finishing with a flourish and raising the half empty bottle in salute before draining a large quantity of its contents.
As she watched, the young man swirled the last dregs of amber liquid within the bottle halfheartedly, and then with a sudden burst of wild energy heaved the bottle with a broken angry cry into the gently sparkling sea. His shoulders heaved softly as he stood there; swaying slightly and watching the bottle become a speck against the blue horizon. The girl tilted her head slightly, as she thought she heard him half singing to the silent sea.
"Drink up, me hearties, yo ho. . ."
With that, he sank slowly to his knees, his forehead pressed against the wet sand. His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, though the girl heard no sound escape from his lips. She chewed her lip apprehensively, her caution battling heavily with her naturally big heart. It was true that he was a stranger, and a dangerous looking one to boot, but. . . Well. . . She couldn't leave anyone alone when they were *crying*. No matter how scary looking they were.
She tiptoed silently up behind him, the quiet sounds of his sorrow reaching her ears as she did so. Tentatively, she reached a small hand forward to lay it gently on his back.
"Hey. . ." she whispered. "Hey. . . Are you alright?"
Faster than her eyes could register, the stranger whirled around and grabbed her wrist in a death grip, and she found herself staring into a pair of green eyes that were less than entirely sane. She bit back a yell of terror; so all that escaped her lips was a small frightened squeak.
The half-crazed young man lifted her to eye level, letting her feet dangle several feet above the sand. He eyed her with a dispassionate sneer warring with the confusion and sadness in his eyes before tossing her roughly to the ground.
"A gnome." He snorted derisively. "Leave me in peace, Toadstool; I haven't the patience right now for the inane jabberings of little people."
The little gnome drew herself to her full height and glared icily up at Weylyn. "My name, Longshanks, is Ellywick. NOT Toadstool, or Tiny, or Short Stuff. And I'll have you know that it isn't considered wise to call powerful wizards mean names." She stuck out her tongue cheekily. "I was *going* to ask if you needed any help, but now I'm not so sure I won't just turn you into a spotted toad and be done with it. You. . .you. . . you poncey elf git!" She sniffed haughtily and turned her back to him.
With a half growl, Weylyn lunged for the dagger in his boot, but was brought up short by the sudden and familiar stab of blinding agony burning through the tattoo on his arm. Weylyn stumbled to his knees, gritting his teeth as the pain lanced down his arm and across his chest, making it difficult to breath. Through the haze permeating his thinking, Olidammara's mocking voice rang lightly through his brain.
"I'm only going to tell you this once, Weylyn, so listen well. I don't believe pulling knives on innocent little girls is exactly conducive to your newfound heroic tendencies. I'm not going to tolerate villainy on your behalf anymore so you had best *watch it*."
As suddenly as it had come, the pain and the voice left him, and Weylyn slumped to the ground with a strangled cry, clutching at his arm. Ellywick looked on, her eyes huge. Rushing over as he fell, she leaned over his still form, biting her lip. She poked him softly in the shoulder, wincing as his eyes partially opened. Trying to swallow her hesitation, the little gnome scooted closer.
"I can heal you, you know. If you like." She said shyly.
Weylyn just closed his eyes tiredly and nodded his head. Ellywick smiled happily and, cracking her knuckles theatrically, placed her hands on either side of his face, scrunching up her brows in concentration. As Ellywick began mumbling softly to herself, a bright blue haze crept across Weylyn's vision. He arched his back as the raw magic coursed through his body like liquid fire, forcing his wounds to close. It was not an altogether pleasant experience.
"There!" She chirped brightly. "All better!"
Weylyn sat up stiffly, rubbing his eyelids. "That," he sighed softly, "Is entirely a matter of opinion." The two sat in separate silence for awhile, watching the hissing sea as Weylyn scratched reflectively at his newly formed scars. Ellywick's irrepressible nature eventually won over, however, and she scooted closer to Weylyn once again.
"My name's Ellywick. Oh!" she said. "I already told you that, didn't I?" She looked at her hands, feeling her ears turn pink. "Well, it is. Ellywick, that is. What's yours?" she finished in a flustered rush.
Weylyn turned his head to glance wearily at the gnome. Finally he shrugged. Now was as good a time as any to start being. . . nice. He shuddered.
"My name is Weylyn," he said. "Weylyn Bla. . ." He paused. His name had gotten out in his years of piracy, and there was the added problem that there was probably a larger price on his head than he cared to think about. However harmless this air-headed little gnome seemed, he couldn't trust her not to turn him in for a little easy coin. Either way, he didn't want to scare her off just yet. Not until he had a little more information about where he had washed up. ". . .Ahh. . .just Weylyn. JUST Weylyn and nothing else," he finished hurriedly, mentally smacking his forehead at how obvious the lie sounded even to his own ears.
"Oh," said Ellywick brightly. "That's a nice name." She scuffed her feet in the sand for a few moments, feeling slightly awkward. Finally, she burst out. "Why were you crying Weylyn?"
Weylyn raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Nosy little thing, aren't you?" he snapped. She gulped embarrassedly, and he sighed, trying to swallow his temper.** Nice. I have to be nice. Gallant. Heroic.** He gazed off into the horizon, at the sky that was beginning to glow gold and crimson as the sun started its slow decent. He didn't turn back to Ellywick as he answered her softly.
"I was saying goodbye. . .Ellywick. I lost a lot of mates today," he buried his face in his hands. "And one very dear friend. The sea takes its price. Always." He sighed and turned away from her, laughing bitterly. "And it took everything from me today, up to, and including, my freedom."
Ellywick's eyes grew huge in her little pointed face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Weylyn barked a short laugh. "Yes. So am I." He dusted the sand from his breeches and his long black leather boots and started to stand. "Well, this little conversation has been really lovely, but I'm afraid I must be on my way. If you could point the way to the nearest town, my lady, I should be forever indebted."
Ellywick scrambled to her feet. "Wait!" she called. "You can't go off by yourself, all alone! I'll come with you." She smiled hugely. "It'll be fun. You'll see."
Weylyn gave her a blank stare. "Yes, well. You're a very nice little gnome person and all, and I like you very much but. . . Mmmmm, how do I put this? No." Not waiting for her reaction, he turned briskly on his heel and started walking in what he hoped was the direction for the nearest town.
"Weylyyyyn!" Ellywick scampered after him, trying to match her petite strides to his long ones and practically bouncing with each step. "Please? Please please please? I'm lonely and you're lonely, and every good adventurer needs a wizard by their side. And I think all you really need to put that frowny face behind you is a big hug."
Weylyn, whose jaw had become increasingly sore from gritting his teeth against this cheerful tirade, let out a strangled "Gack!" as Ellywick attached herself fondly to his leg, pitching him forward onto the sand. Now that he was down at her level, Ellywick wasted no time in relocating herself to his neck, half strangling him with affection before he managed to disentangle her.
Finally pulling free, Weylyn took Ellywick none too gently by the shoulders and looked her square in the eyes with what he hoped was a cheerful and understanding expression. Unfortunately, it looked more like someone trying to swallow whole lemon slices.
"Ellywick. Thank you. Really. But.. . .ahh. . ." He closed his eyes and rubbed fitfully at his temples. "I've known you for five minutes and you're already irritating the hell out of me. I don't think," he patted her shoulder, "teaming up is the best idea."
Ellywick's big brown eyes filled up slowly with huge, wet tears. Plopping down on the sand in an inconsolable heap, she started sobbing in a long, high pitched wail.
"You don't *like* meeeeee." The little gnome shuddered in despair, ignoring Weylyn's awkward and increasingly frantic attempts to get her to stop. He wasn't very good dealing with crying women, at least, not in ways that didn't involve back-handing them. Her cries reaching amazing ear- splitting climaxes before plunging down into low, heart breaking sobs. Weylyn finally threw up his arms in complete surrender.
"Oh, for the sake of Pelor. . . Fine! You win!" Crouching down, he scooped up the still wailing gnome and slung her over his shoulder and started stomping loudly down the beach again.
Ellywick's sobs soon changed into little sniffles and the odd hiccough. She squirmed lightly in his grasp and stared down at the constant motion of the heels of his boots. "What do you think you're doing?"
Weylyn shifted her higher on his shoulder and tightened his lips. "You are a damsel. You are in distress. I am rescuing you. Got it?" He tried to turn his head so she could hear him better from her odd position. "It's heroic."
Ellywick tried to squirm around to better face him. "You mean I can come with you? Really really? We can be partners?"
Weylyn sighed resignedly against the headache that was starting to reassert itself. "Considering my peculiar circumstances, I don't think I have much of a choice. It isn't very," he grimaced "gallant to leave a lady alone and unprotected. Or at least, so I've heard. I'm afraid I'm stuck with you."
Ellywick shrieked in delight. "You really won't regret this. A wizard's a very useful thing to have around, you know. And I'll cheer you up too, I promise! It'll be lots and lots of fun. . ." Chatting all the while, she moved around in Weylyn's arms until he was carrying her like a small child, one arm beneath her arms and one beneath her knees, with her head resting lightly on his shoulder.
"Ahh. . . Ellywick?" Weylyn intoned lightly. "Here's an idea. How does walking on your own damn feet sound?"
Ellywick only giggled. "Nope. I'm the damsel in distress. Have to be carried. You don't have a choice." She stuck her tongue out at him and fell into silver giggles again.
Weylyn gave an exasperated sigh. "Just thought I'd check." He continued trudging northward, past the beaches and, according to Ellywick, towards the nearest town.
Night began to fall swiftly in ribbons of lavender, gold and blue. Ellywick, soothed by the rocking motion of Weylyn's walk, snuggled her head into his shoulder and was soon dozing lightly. Lulled by her soft breathing and the song of the sea, Weylyn fought to suppress a small smile and, to his annoyance, lost. Gazing up at the young stars just showing their faces, he laughed quietly to them.
"Hello, I don't think we've been introduced. My name is just Weylyn, and I. . . am a hero."