Disclaimer: I do not own 'Shadows of Amn', 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

Lost and found

Anomen looked up from his drink, absently running a hand across his beard as he scanned about the tavern's gloomy interior, the familiar faces of the regulars mingled with those of new patrons'.

The Copper Coronet attracted an interesting mix of mercenaries, thieves and those who merely wished to forget their lives in the slums and partake in the tavern's entertainments. He frowned as one of the prostitutes from the brothel upstairs passed, a very drunk man staggering after her. It hadn't taken long for the women to realise he was not looking for companionship and they generally left him alone, his only conversations during the long hours of waiting being with the occasional mercenary, who, like he, were more interested in looking for work than company.

Anomen leant back in his chair and took mouthful of ale; it was warm by now but he would make it last. If spent frugally, he had just enough money left for another few days before he would have to return to the Order and join a campaign to earn some coin. The Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart was the largest knightly order in Amn and was never short of battles to fight. They paid well enough for the work too, but glory earned there was glory shared by many and it was nothing he could distinguish himself by… and he should know, he had been trying long enough, the last four years spent travelling the slow path to knighthood under their banner as squire.

And so, that left him there.

He'd been coming to the Coronet, one of the slums' more civilized inns, for just over a tenday now, looking for a group of like-minded people to join, but nothing had presented itself and as time went on he'd found his hopes dwindling. Anomen sighed, taking another mouthful of the ale just for something to do; perhaps another tavern would be more fruitful? But it was an idea he had no time to fully consider for, at that moment, the door banged open and he looked up expecting some local or other, his eyes taking in four he had never seen there before.

A young elven maid with flaxen hair was leading the way, though he could tell at a glance she was not their leader. She was followed by a huge bald warrior, his darker skin and tattoos placing him as a northerner of some sort, the woman at his side tall for a half-elf and austere with it, seeming to regard everything she deigned to notice with a mild contempt. Behind them, came the last of their group, another half-elf by the look of her, though shorter than the first, long copper curls streaked with dirt and pinned up so untidily he would not have been surprised to see mice nesting in it. She followed at a stilted pace, limping badly and looking as though it was one of the least things troubling her. Barring the elf, they were all filthy, even considering the surroundings, trudging up to the bar to exchange brief words with the landlord before disappearing up stairs.

Anomen shook himself, an unexplained excitement filling him. He had never seen such a ragtag group. And only four of them, by the look of things; they would surely take him! He smiled, signalling to the waitress as he prepared to wait for their return. This was it. They were the ones. Anomen waited for another hour or so, his hopes so elevated he even ordered another drink, this patience finally paying off when the elf reappeared on the stairs, tripping lightly down them and he caught her at the bar.

'Fair elf,' he began, the girl before him whirling round, startled, 'I inquire after the party I saw you with earlier, have you need of a strong sword arm?'

'Sorry? Oh, I am not really sure, Fritha did not mention-'

'Fritha? Your leader, I presume?' he interrupted, thinking back to the two other women he had seen, eager to know more before he met her, 'she was the taller of the pair?'

'N-No, the shorter. I- I should probably,' she stammered warily, gathering her skirts and half-turning ready for a swift departure, only to collide with someone behind her. 'Oh, Fritha! This man-'

She stepped aside and he was suddenly staring down at a pale pretty face, two large brown eyes, a shade darker than was perhaps usual for her colouring, gazing back at him. The girl definitely looked better for her rest, dressed in clean clothes and her hair damp, though her leg still seemed to be giving her trouble. He bowed.

'My lady, allow me to introduce myself, I am Anomen Delryn, squire to the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart and servant of Helm. I hear you are in need of a strong sword arm.'

The girl blinked slowly, inclining her head towards the elf.

'Indeed… Aerie has told you of our situation?'

'Well, I- ah…' the elf stuttered, physically recoiling from the question.

The girl closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, and when she spoke again her voice was soft.

'Have you eaten yet, Aerie?'

The elf shook her head.

'Come,' the girl continued, smiling now, albeit a touch tiredly, 'I shall order some food and we can take a table. Will you join us, ah…?'

She finally turned to him, a slight frown creasing her brow as she clearly tried to recall his name. He smiled.

'Anomen. I should be honoured, my lady.'

He followed the elf, Aerie, as she weaved her way through the tables to settle at one under one of the bar's few windows, the slums outside just a drab blur through the grimy glass, Fritha joining them moments later.

'So from where do you hail?' Anomen began once they'd all seated, unable to keep the cheer from his voice. Just when he had been giving up hope and they'd appeared; surely it was sign! 'You have none of you the look of an Athkatlan.'

Aerie remained silent, and Fritha looked as though she would have liked nothing better than to join her, though she slowly drew a breath and politely answered him.

'As a group we are most recently of Baldur's Gate, though I call the Western Heartlands home, Jaheira is from Tethyr and Minsc is a Rashemi. The good Aerie here, lives within the city, though not always.'

She glanced to Aerie, perhaps as an invitation for the girl to expand on this, but the elf dropped her attention to her drink, and Anomen continued quickly to fill the silence.

'You have been in the city long?'

'We arrived this morning.'

'And what brings you to Athkatla?'

The girls before him shared a look and Fritha turned back, her expression neutral. 'I seek something that was taken from me… something of great value. But we should not speak of that now, our food has arrived.'

He glanced up, the maid suddenly at his shoulder and setting dishes before them, and they ate together, Anomen explaining to them of his quest to join the Order. Something which Fritha seized upon as soon as mentioned, and the time seemed to go very quickly from then on, with him telling them of its glorious campaigns and most celebrated members; the girls providing an attentive, albeit quiet audience.

'Well, we shall meet at mid-morning tomorrow to discuss plans,' said Fritha finally, and Anomen was surprised to find the plates before them were empty, 'should you still wish to join us, then feel free to come.'

'You would wait until tomorrow? It is barely evening yet.'

She smiled slightly, barely a quirk of her lips, but he could tell his eagerness amused her and instantly felt embarrassed.

'Perhaps,' she answered evenly, 'but my friends are resting and I would not disturb them for all of Toril. Do you have a room here?'

'No, my lady, I have quarters at the Order, but rest assured I shall be here on the morrow.'

'Until then.' She rose and bowed slightly and he returned the gesture before turning on his heel and marching swiftly out.

Had Athkatla ever seemed so bright as in that afternoon? The whole city warmed by a dying summer sun as he walked through the streets, making his way back to the Order's buildings to the south. He had a group to journey with! Suddenly anything seemed possible; he would make a name for himself, earn glories and honours that would see him shine even in such company the Order held. They could deny him no longer and he would finally achieve his dream and join their ranks! Finally prove himself to his father, to the world!

Anomen strolled along, his imagination providing such scenery he barely noticed he had reached the temple district, glancing up to see the great stone church to Helm rising stern and watchful amongst the other shrines. He would attend later, after evensong, to give thanks and make prayers for the coming trials. He walked on now though, nodding respectfully to the Watchers at the door as he passed and wending his way through the district's criss-cross of canals to the Order compound. Anomen smiled as he saw it, the yellow stonework glowing gold through the poplars that lined the outer walls. He passed under the great arched gateway, every detail seeming so much more noticeable and he could not remember feeling any more in awe of the place than he had when he'd first seen it ten years ago.

Just inside, the younger boys were having sword practise in the courtyard, those not participating sat on the stable walls to shout and cheer their friends, some older squires and knights stood about the edge, watching with a mild interest as the great stone fortress of the Great Hall towered behind them, haloed by the setting sun. He moved to join them, arriving just as another duel was ended, the shouts and applause of the crowd almost drowning out the voice.

'Ho, Anomen!'

He glanced up at the noise to see Simon's round boyish face grinning at him from across the square, his friend skirting the edge of the gathering to join him. Simon had been at the Order since he was twelve and a friend of Anomen's ever since he had joined four years ago. Looking younger than his nineteen years with a shock of permanently untidy blond hair, it was hard to believe the lively man had spent most of his life within the Order's structured walls, though Anomen wondered whether his friend's ardent worship of the Morninglord did not have something to do with it.

'Anomen, this afternoon finds you in good spirits,' he said by way of greeting and it was only then Anomen realised he had been smiling all this while. He nodded once.

'That it does for I have found a group to join; just arrived from Baldur's Gate.'

He had anticipated his friend's look of astonishment, but his words were wholly unexpected.

'Hey, would they not be the same northerners who dispatched a dark illusionist in the promenade this morning?'

Anomen opened his mouth to answer and stopped. Fritha had said they had just arrived that morning… and looking a little worse for wear for their journey…

He shook his head slowly. 'Well, they were about this morning, but…'

'Who were about this morning?' cut in another voice and he turned to see Sir Erick, the dark-haired friend he had once shared a dormitory with; that was, until Erick had been knighted.

Anomen fought down a twinge of envy. Erick had been knighted just after his twenty-first birthday that Alturiak, taking on the benefits and responsibilities that went with it, as well as his own room. In fact, most squires were knighted at about the age of twenty, but this was Anomen's twenty-fourth year upon the earth and he was beginning to wonder whether it was an honour that would ever come; especially when he watched younger squires attain knighthood before him. It was a worry he regularly lectured Simon on as his friend grew older, though the younger man remained unconcerned. Claiming the Order would knight him when the time was right and not before, in a calm assured way that made Anomen feel jealous. He had once pressed the issue, asked him what he'd do if the day never came, but Simon had never been plagued by the same doubts he suffered with and had merely stared back at him with a puzzled look, the idea clearly never entering into his head.

'Well, who then?' Erick prompted, raising an eyebrow with a smile and Anomen realised he had yet to answer.

'A group of northerners that Anomen's gone and signed on with,' supplied Simon with a grin, anticipating his friend's reaction.

'Not that group who set the circus to rights?' Erick confirmed, his voice almost lost in the roar of another finished duel, 'I heard they are the same band that saved the Gate!'

'No,' cried Simon, turning back to Anomen, beaming. 'Looks like you've fallen in with a proper sort.'

'I'm sure it could not be the same…' mumbled Anomen, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He had heard the news; who in Athkatla had not? How close their country had come to war with Baldur's Gate, before it suddenly emerged that the whole thing had been orchestrated by a Bhaalspawn for his own ends, who had then been defeated by an unknown group of mercenaries. The same group of mercenaries to who he had just babbled on and on about joining the Order? Anomen covered his face with a groan. How foolish he must have seemed! And the way the girl had smiled at him as he left…

They probably thought him no more than a wide-eyed boy, fresh from the seminary, the eager way he had approached them! But still, he reasoned, they must have invited him to join them for a reason…

Perhaps they need someone to carry their bags?

Anomen shook his head crossly, trying to dismiss the sudden unease within him, though his friends seemed not to notice, eagerly speculating what glorious adventures they would soon be leading him on and congratulating him his good fortune. He glanced back to the gates, no longer gold now the sun had dipped below the Great Hall, the shadows that hung about them now looking all the darker for it.

xxx

Fritha spent the rest of the afternoon with Aerie, explaining their situation more fully to the elf, though it hardly made for a more relaxed atmosphere and they each retired to their own rooms at sunset. Fritha spent the evening trying to occupy herself, going through her bag to make note of the supplies she would have to replace and practising her scales. But her mind felt restless, unable to focus on any one thing for long, and not even her bath brought her the customary peace. Lying in water just the wrong side of tepid, her mind going over their confrontation in the promenade again and again, each scenario slightly different from the last and all searching for some way she could have saved her.

Fritha sighed angrily, sliding under the water and listening to her heartbeat slow as she held her breath, her mind clearing until all her thoughts were on the slow dull thud in her ears and the insistent burning of her lungs. Finally, she surfaced gasping, still slightly dizzy as she took up her soap. It was one she had bought back in the Gate just before they'd left. A beeswax base, scented with sandalwood. Far too expensive, but Imoen had talked her round in the end; had laughed and said she deserved a treat after saving the city and all.

Fritha smiled sadly at the smooth ochre disk. How was it everything came back to her?

She washed herself quickly, ignoring the sting in her leg before rising to walk to the open window, unmindful of her nakedness or the water she was pooling over the floorboards. Her eyes drifted over the city, a thousand points of light flickering in the darkness, moonlight glinting off the temple spires to the south, the five solid towers of the Council Buildings silhouetted to the north. Aerie had taken her to see the city officials after the squire had left, but the Magistrate had merely shaken her head: sorry, but ultimately powerless in such matters.

But even her useless pity had been better than the attitude of the Cowled Wizards' representative they'd met with. The man listening to her account with a bored look, before claiming to know nothing of such matters and ushering her from his office with such an air of disdain that, for a second, she wanted nothing more than to gather up her own energies, strike him into little pieces, and bring every Cowled Wizard within the city screaming down on them. At least then she would be with Imoen, even if no longer in a position to actually rescue her. But her own brand of magic was newly discovered and fickle; she could have probably done more damage to him with a dirty look.

She sighed. Dynaheir had offered to teach her how to harness it, to draw it out, but now Fritha was left to stumble blindly on alone, all trial and error, and more than she'd have liked of the latter. She had tried that evening, kneeling before the old tin bath the maid had brought and filled, seeing if she could heat the water by her will alone. But either it was cooling faster than her meagre powers could warm it, or else it was not working at all, for the temperature did not increase and all she was left with at the end of it was a bath of lukewarm water.

Patience in all things… sighed her mind in a voice somewhere between Gorion and Tethtoril and Fritha shook her head, staring out at that dark foreign city.

That was all very well in theory, but she could not suppress the restlessness writhing within her, tormented by the idea that her friend could be somewhere in the city right now, even somewhere close by and Fritha wouldn't know. She and Imoen had never been parted for more than a tenday since they'd first met…how the days seemed to stretch on endlessly now, with no guarantee of her return. And how were the others coping? Minsc was quieter than usual, sharing his feelings only with his hamster, but was anything else to be expected? He had been dealing with the knowledge of Dynaheir's murder for a tenday now, in that dungeon alone with only his thoughts. And what of Jaheira? She had not even had the grace of time to deal with her husband's death, and Fritha felt like crying all over again because there really was nothing she could say to either of them.

Khalid and Dynaheir: two wonderful friends who had helped her so much since she had been forced from Candlekeep and now they were gone, and there wasn't a thing she could do to fix it.

No, no, none of that… her mind scolded, and she drew a deep breath of cool night air, steeling herself. No one could change the past, she had to focus on the future now, on raising the coin for Imoen. Those two they had met today would be a help, at least in the short term. Though how they had managed to meet two so completely contrary individuals in one day she would never fathom.

The elf, so timid and reticent, with such a clear steel just beneath the surface. And the squire, so full of plans and exuding a confidence that could not quite hide his worries.

Fritha sighed, her observations depressing her. A balance between the two would have been preferred, especially when she was unsure as to the stability of her own companions. But, unfortunately, capable people were rather keen on getting decent pay.

As the sages said, beggars can't be choosers…