Tenemire sat beneath the tree on a blanket. Jessel had acquired a blanket expressly for this purpose. "Are you happy now?" He had asked Tenemire. "Will you finally relax? You looked like a statue sitting there." Tenemire sat with one leg out toward the fire, reading. Jessel crouched over the fire, tending to it, as the body of a lynx hovered above it, impaled by a thin branch, and cooked. Tenemire admired the curve of Jessel's bare back as he leant over the fire. Beside the fire on a rather large flat stone he used as a surface, there was a crude wooden bowl which held various foraged herbs, leaves, and flowers, carefully washed in the freshwater streams of Eversong. This latter addition to his usual meal was in honour of his house guest, whom he hosted more frequently these past few weeks. It was a late afternoon; the clouds were heavy. Shadowed by the full sky and the deep green forest, the birds' evensong mingled with the cracks of the fire. Jessel returned also to the blanket, sat with his back against the tree, crossed his feet in front of him, and laid a hand on Tenemire's leg.
"I think we may be the first elves since our ancestors landed in this forest to be eating lynx meat." Tenemire said, trying to swallow the gamey meat. "It's a wonder why they ever stopped." He teased Jessel.
"Hey this time I did bring stuff for you." He gestured to the bowl.
"Yes, I know. And I am appreciative, even of the cooking you've done. I haven't had cooked food in a long while, and meat in even longer."
"It's good for you. We need to get you a little bigger anyway." He squeezed Tenemire's leg. Tenemire tried his best to ignore the other elf, as well as the sensations rising within him. "Before you, I didn't have a reason to cook for anyone since my nieces left, so I'm appreciative that you're here too." Jessel looked into Tenemire's eyes and smiled warmly; Tenemire was seized for a moment by the gaze, like a deer entranced by the gaudy pattern of his predator's hide. He broke the connection and looked downward.
"Well… you have to cook for yourself anyway, no?"
"Well…"
"Oh, please, don't tell me…"
"I have been known to eat a fresh catch uncooked. Outland didn't always allow for such luxuries. But I don't do that anymore. Hard to digest." He patted the plains of muscles over his abdomen, slightly curved with fullness from their meal.
"Well I'm sure we're all thankful for that." Tenemire said, shaking his head. "Tell me about your nieces." Tenemire asked before taking a large bite of the meat he held between his hands.
"Don't see them much these days." Jessel looked into the forest. "I'm technically still their guardian. I provided for them after the city fell. They were my purpose for having gotten up every morning in those days." Tenemire thought, he himself had never known such a purpose. "But the call for soldiers in Outland was… persuasive… I had been a Farstrider before having to take care of them."
"You were a Farstrider?" Tenemire interrupted. "Somehow I didn't know that… but I'm not surprised, really. So why did you leave? You said they were your reason for getting up everyday."
"I missed being a soldier. I missed the forest's wind on my face when in pursuit of a troll, the perfect strike of an arrow through its skull, working my arms until a heavy weapon felt light and agile." He paused. "They were coming to school-age anyway. I couldn't teach them, they needed more than just an uncle, and I felt that, maybe, I'd be a better soldier in Outland than a mother here."
"Well… you're back now."
"Yes, I'm back." Jessel sighed.
"I'm sorry if this is…"
"No! I'm happy to talk about it. They stay in Silvermoon now, in school with the other elven children. They visited once since I've returned. They were happy to see me." He smiled. "Their headmistress stood on the hill, just looking. They didn't stay long. I guess she didn't approve of an uncle who'd 'abandoned' his military station and lived beneath a tree in the forest." He paused. "I get letters from them still. I measure the time by the improvement in their handwriting…" Tenemire reached and put his arm around Jessel's back.
Jessel turned his head from the forest and looked into Tenemire's eyes again. He moved swiftly and caught the elf in his arms and held him below himself. Tenemire's senses were dominated by the one who held him. The shadow of his body loomed over him, the smell and warmth of his bare skin, the taste of game meat on his tongue, and the green fire of his eyes. It were these eyes that stopped him, that were the insurmountable barrier between them. They terrified him. In them he saw the face of the demon in the crystal. In all corners of the world were those who tried to pull him into the green fire. Jessel thrust his head down and Tenemire closed his eyes and braced for the impact of his lips, but felt only the softness and warmth of them, and the weightlessness of being held in his arms. They opened and closed their mouths together and their heavy breaths were shared between them. Jessel moved to Tenemire's neck and his hot breath Tenemire felt almost burn over the cool white skin of his ears and neck. The sensation caused his body to stiffen and draw in a quick breath. Jessel laid him down on the blanket with care, and Tenemire felt the blades of grass and firm earth beneath the fabric of the blanket. The bark of the tree soared over him and his eyes saw only the birds in the branches, flitting in and out in their busy evening forages.
Jessel began undoing the buttons of Tenemire's tunic. He again loomed over the other elf, on his hands and knees, and crept backward until his head was over Tenemire's waist. He began undoing the clothing there too when he looked up at Tenemire. Tenemire looked down at him and Jessel was smiling, warmly and mischievously, but the green fire pierced Tenemire deeply.
"Please, stop." Tenemire gasped.
"What's wrong?" He quickly went back up to Tenemire and held him.
"I don't know… I'm really, very sorry." Tenemire felt that if they couldn't be together at that
moment that he'd rather die. But he couldn't have lived afterward either, if what happened between he and Sheynathren happened here between he and Jessel. And far worse, he did not know the extent of the fel magic's corruption. He could not know if this elf's desire was his own, or the insatiable appetite of the demonic. Had it been any other elf, he'd have submitted with ecstatic abandon. But not to this elf. He believed, as much as he could, that this elf was still occupied by some goodness, and by suffering. If they were ever meant to be together, it would be between them only; their unity would be one, with no place for this wretched mediator. He began again, "You've done nothing wrong. I want this more than to live in consciousness at this moment, but I assure you, we couldn't stand to face the sun tomorrow if we do this. It can't be like this, not yet…"
Tenemire stood and secured his clothing. He found his book in the blanket. Jessel sat on the ground and stared at the fire, flames flashing light on his face. Tenemire regarded the twinkle of a tear running down his cheek. Tenemire crouched beside him and put his arms around him.
"I'm sorry I've hurt you. I will see you tomorrow?"
"Don't apologise for doing what is right for yourself. I will live, if only to see you again."
"We can see each other everyday, if you want."
"I would like that very much." Tenemire leant in to kiss him, but Jessel turned away. Jessel moved his head slowly and kissed Tenemire's cheek, enjoying the feel of stubble on his lips. They looked at each other in the firelight. Jessel reached out and caressed Tenemire's cheek with the back of his fingers. "You're beautiful."
Upon hearing this, Tenemire's eyes widened and he looked away. He rose again and walked into the dark, cool forest air, the dim reflection of the fire on him growing fainter before disappearing, leaving Jessel to sit and watch after him, hoping that one of the phantoms in the dark, the tricks one's eyes play when peering into darkness, might turn out to still be him. He gave up eventually, and watched until the fire burnt into glowing coals, at which time the first distinction between the blackness of sky and land could be made as dawn approached.