The Traveler leaned against the doorpost. The hovel was modest; neat and elegantly decorated to accommodate guests of noble stature. He made sure to keep his back against the interior, knowing Maiev would stab him through and through if he ever showed his face while she was not "completely" dressed.
"So I heard that you left the High Priestess on a collapsing bridge," he began, gazing at the passing stream flowing in the open canal underneath.
"Did we not have this conversation before?" the Warden sneered from the lamplit room.
"I thought we would have a nice refresher topic."
Oddly, Maiev just sighed. For the past number of days that he had spent escorting her to Darnassus, he knew he would without a doubt leave him hanging by neck off a high perch if he so much as provoked anything. Now that they were in the Kaldorei heartland, he felt as though she had reversed in complete polarity.
The Traveler chanced a peek inside. All he saw was a linen-clothed back and a dark flow of scarlet hair running down over it. A pair of sharp ears protruded out of them as the glow of her eyes dimly illuminated the wall.
"I should probably look away now," he said.
"You should," she sternly agreed.
When he did, he caught Tyrande slowly approaching the steps that led to the doorway. Amid the glow of the lamps affixed all around, he could see her face dipped in a mixture of sorrow and regret. Whatever determination she was trying to display was easily marred by her indecisive walking. He guessed that there was a void between the High Priestess and the Warden after all that he had heard about the latter. And, with good reason, he concluded, Tyrande should feel a little hesitant to approach Maiev. That is, if she was going to do the apologizing which he felt she shouldn't.
She paused a few paces away. "Go on in," he mouthed.
He found it easier to read the other night elves compared to Maiev. But she was a survivor and he acquiesced to her superiority as a veteran of the horrors of demons—those of the world and those of her own. After all, she starkly reminded him of that troubled veteran Dagren who was a model example to the entirety of the Kul Tiras expedition of a soldier whose nightmares never left him.
"You have a guest," he echoed into the room.
When Maiev did not call back, he stepped aside and gestured at the Priestess to enter. Tyrande paused to collect herself. She eased into the domicile that had been hastily prepared for the former Warden of the now non-existent Kaldorei Watchers. He thought that the added prefix of former merely confirmed that the rank, title, and position of Warden was now defunct. And that meant that Maiev had nothing else... She was starting all over again, he woefully mused.
He pressed himself against the doorpost. The way the Priestess herself struggled to speak was indication enough that Maiev's future was an uncertainty. Not that he cared, no. But he was concerned. Care and concern were both different embodiments of empathy, he was firmly sure.
He only knew a few Darnassian words but he decided not to even try and comprehend what they were discussing. Though, it was mostly the High Priestess talking. Maiev was unusually quiet though he guessed that it was because she was the High Priestess.
"I appreciate your effort," Tyrande suddenly whispered, her warm breath tickling his ear.
The Traveler nearly stumbled. "What is it with you people and sneaking up behind me?"
The Priestess casually walked away. "Knowing Maiev, she would need a purpose now that she has done..." She paused. Her face was frozen as stone but her lips continued to move. "...what had to be done." She turned to him, her glowing eyes piercing into his. "Until Lord Jarod Shadowsong returns..."
Tyrande did not finish. The Traveler saw her turn her back on him and fade into the night. "Really? Is that all you're going to say?" He growled. "Come on! I only agreed to this because she needed help, okay?"
The wind whistled back at him. He walked inside.
"Damn it."
"Thank you," Maiev said.
The Traveler snapped his head at her. "What?"
The lamp was close to burning out and the night elf moved to turn the knob underneath the gasket. The room brightened and she was aware that the human could very well see the scars on her back or at least those that her undergarments would allow to be seen. She did not want to show him any more.
She felt herself choke again and she forced it down. When she finally did talk, she felt as though she had lost her voice and the force that normally came with every word had gone.
"Thank you...for your help," she croaked.
All she heard were padded footsteps against the floor and the door flying open. Maiev turned to see was alone. Looking outside, she caught the wisp of the Traveler's coat fly behind the monument. Though she wanted to, she decided not to follow him.
It had been a long journey, after all. As she lay her head on the bed, she noticed the stone above her morph into the criss-crossed ceiling of the temple in Hajiri. For a brief moment, she felt clothed in the robes of Elune's young aspiring priestess, those days now nothing but memories that were more fragile than glass. Even then, as blissful as it felt, she was reminded of the cold blanket that she had drawn over herself.
Tossing it aside, she finally closed her eyes. And the final image to grace her mind before she wafted to sleep was the unclothed face of Illidan Stormrage.
Maiev awoke to the early hours before dawn. With practiced grace honed from centuries of self-imposed training, she washed and dressed herself with the spare robes that had been provided by the city's tailors. On instinct, she felt for the rubber-bound clasp of her crescent. When she did, she pulled away, yanking the set of armor that she had piled on top of it and scattering them across the floor.
She easily tucked them back onto the table but found it difficult to depart from it. She continued to gaze at the battered helmet and the cracked shoulder mounts, running her hand along the thickly woven cloak that now bore holes of all sorts. She donned the cape and felt it slide across her bare back.
In her nostalgia, her anger bubbled and nearly flared. She hastily removed the cloak and folded it back under the helm. But her hands felt nailed onto the table, unwilling to let go of the fragmented pieces of armor that she had worn since the day she offered to be the Betrayer's guardian.
"No...jailor," she quietly corrected.
Three knocks roused her from her stupor. She saw his shadow piercing through the open window and she frowned. The door opened by itself and a gloved hand snaked around the hinges.
"My business here is done," the Traveler greeted.
"Where are you off to?"
"Away from here. I have other places to visit."
"I see."
The Traveler approached her. He scowled. "You've been crying."
Maiev turned away. She did her best to ignore him but she felt his presence still looming over her despite their shared height. She had already given her thanks; what more could she give back to this stranger who expended so much effort to guide her back home? Given what she had done and what had transpired, she guessed that no one, not even the noblest of the night elves, would willingly give themselves to aid her.
"You never bothered to introduce yourself," she said.
"Exactly. This is where we part ways. Your brother will come home soon. If ever I run into him, I'll tell him that his sister is waiting for him in Darnassus." He tapped her on the shoulder. "It's better to be in the company of a stranger than to brave the world alone. I could only imagine the horrors you had to go through but that did not mean that you had to keep it to yourself."
"You were..." She found it very difficult to find the right thing to say. If it was even the right thing... Such compliments were rare of her. But she had to say something. "...a good...companion."
The Traveler beamed. "It was...fine, while it lasted. Until we meet again, Mistress Shadowsong."
With that, he planted his knapsack into the corner and walked outside the door before she could pull him back in. Maiev once again peered through, hesitating to stop him from heading for the portal gate. She followed his fading form until she could no longer track him among the crowd. She slumped back inside, feeling just as exhausted as that day in the hall...where Illidan cursed her to his grave. Maiev did not shudder from the memory this time. She noticed the bag he left behind.
Sifting through the contents yielded only gold which she deemed worthless. The various coins were stamped with the faces of the kings of the humans and the various elven descendants of the Highborne which she would rather not cast her eyes upon. Underneath the pouch, she drew up a single scroll. Unrolling it, she could not help but feel both anger and joy as she read the Traveler's final confession in dark, drying ink:
May you find peace and direction, Warden. My companionship has been courtesy of your old friend Akama. You can have his gold. I'm not taking it.
The distant chorus of cheers woke Maiev from her slumber. Wiping her eyes, she lit the lamp on her table and shone it over the window sill, twisting the knob that controlled the blinds, narrowing the path of light to the street below.
There was a commotion, yes, but not one that meant trouble as was how peaceful the capital was. She could hear words of joy and well wishes until the crowds dispersed and the smooth calm of Tyrande's voice echoed ever so closely to her hovel. Then boots. Several boots. Until finally, the shape of a tall elf with an unkempt beard and long oiled hair strolled into the light of her lantern.
Maiev felt her throat squeeze out. "J-Jarod?"
Down the street, Jarod Shadowsong glanced back at High Priestess Tyrande. "She really is home..."
Tyrande nodded and gestured to the steps to the Warden's home. "She has been waiting."
Softened by the warm smiles of his men, now tired from the long journey, Jarod Shadowsong rushed up the stone steps to the doorway where Maiev stood, her dry silken nightgown barely covering the long faded scars carved across her bare skin. The very sight of her, alive and well after timeless centuries, was the most fulfilling experience in all his years of wandering aimlessly in the wilderness.
"Maiev," he breathed.
"Jarod."
"Dear sister!" He squeezed her under his arms, enveloping her completely, tears of joy and relief washing down onto her shoulders. "Maiev... I...I haven't seen you...in so long..."
And as the famed and feared Warden Maiev Shadowsong made to return his embrace, she glimpsed an illusion of the Traveler smiling contently behind the shadow of the street. It lasted for a bare second but it was enough to make her feel happy in a long, long time.
LAST EDITED: July 24, 2015
UPLOADED: November 15, 2015