Author's Note: Well, here comes the start of the blossoming relationship, I guess (I'm sure Menelanna, at least, will be overjoyed at this point ;) )
----------And days like this are sweet
I'm walking in my sleep
It's a place where I belong
Someday I'll go back home
-- Chemical Brothers, Life is Sweet
----------They were close to the bandit camp -- Xan could tell by Kivan's grim expression that they were less than an hour away, but the night was fast approaching and to his relief, Nuila signalled for a halt. They quickly made up a camp, arranging guard shifts then going about their usual duties. For Xan, this meant pouring over his spellbook while Imoen asked what all the pretty writing meant.
"They're runes," he said for the seventh time that week. He'd gone past the point of being annoyed and now answered her almost automatically without even registering her voice. Predictable as she was, he found that he didn't even really need to listen to what she was saying to answer her correctly. He found this mildly amusing, but easily put it down to the predictability of humans.
"Will you teach me some spells?"He blinked, completely caught off guard. "I, well, er."
"That's really articulate of ya, Xan. Is that how ya say 'yes' in your strange elfy language?" She grinned mischievously at him; a genuinely warm expression, and the first he'd really registered from anyone in his present company excluding Nuila. It was enough to throw him slightly, arousing his suspicion as to what was causing it -- the cynical part of his brain was telling him it was a show to coax him into doing what she wanted, but another part of his mind insisted that it was out of genuine friendship. He remembered that the two girls had been left alone in the world -- was it really such a strange notion to think that they'd want to have friends?
He tried to glare at her anyway, but she'd picked up a few of his scrolls and was running a finger softly over the parchment. Branwen, Nuila and Kivan were huddled around the fire as Garrick tried his hand at cooking, planning their next move for when they got closer to the bandits the next day. He found his attention flickering over to the form of their leader; she was sitting straight, with a small frown on her face as she listened to Kivan speak. Xan couldn't make out the words from where he was, but he was content just to see her across the flames. Then he caught sound of Imoen's careful murmurs."You should be careful saying such things," he said with a trace of approval at her ability to work out the more complicated words. "Without proper knowledge, attempting to cast a spell could be the last thing you do."
The girl grinned at him. "You'll have ta teach me then, won't ya!" she announced happily, ignoring his groan of protest -- which wasn't completely genuine, anyway. Imoen was a bright girl -- arguably brighter than Nuila, though the elven girl showed a great deal more common sense. The roguish little human called over to Nuila, asking to take the first guard with Xan instead of her final one with Kivan, and the elf nodded back, causing the human to squeal in joy. Xan could imagine how long the night was going to be.
----------
She was crying out again. He had suspected her sleep was disturbed when they'd first camped outside as a group, and when he noticed how tired she appeared to be on many mornings his suspicions only deepened. He hadn't realised how deep her troubles seemed to go, however. Carefully he reached out to try and calm her, but she violently lashed out at his touch, moaning louder and making him withdraw swiftly. Imoen was watching from behind him fearfully, all lessons about magic temporarily forgotten.
"How long has this been going on?" he asked, more sharply than he intended.
"A long time," replied Imoen quickly, seemingly worried by his abruptness. "Since we left Candlekeep, really. Every night she seems to have nightmares, though some nights don't seem to be as bad as others."
"Even when you share a room at the inns?"
"Even then."
She was sweating profusely, her calls getting louder and louder. The others had been disturbed enough to waken up, and now they were approaching, wondering what was wrong. One final scream was enough to jolt her from her nightmare, and she looked around wildly as if trying to remember where she was.
"Shhh," he said, attempting to offer comfort. "It was a dream, nothing more." He looked back at the others, waving them away.
Kivan nodded. "Leave her to sleep this night. I will take the final watch alone," he stated before returning to his bedroll. Branwen and Garrick followed suite hesitantly, both throwing worried glances back at the dazed elven girl. Imoen was sitting at her side, her arm around her friend's shoulder as they whispered together. Xan shifted, preparing to move away to give them privacy when Nuila caught his arm.
"You don't need to go," she said. Was it pleading he detected in her voice, or did he just want to hear it that way? Regardless of what it actually was, he settled back down, watching her with his own concerned eyes. She tried to offer a weak smile.
"What is it that causes you so much distress in your sleep?" he asked. She gave him a pained look.
"Blood," she said quietly. "Mostly blood -- sometimes daggers and people dying. Gorion, occasionally. Sometimes Imoen, others in the group. Death... always death."
Xan couldn't help but shiver at her words; she said them so simply, so easily that it was sinister to watch. She sighed heavily and Imoen hugged her. "What causes them?" he asked aloud, though it was meant more for himself. What had the girl seen to trigger such an extreme reaction; especially when she could barely remember much of her life to date, having no knowledge at all about the years before her foster father had taken her to Candlekeep.
"I don't know," she replied miserably. "I... I thought it was all down to seeing Gorion die because I keep seeing the man -- with his flashing yellow eyes and his spiky armour. But I saw the man from the mines this time -- and there's always a voice telling me to do things. It wanted me to pick up a dagger and stab him."
Xan shuddered. "Why do put yourself through such sights?" he asked.
She stared back at him blankly. "I must sleep, otherwise..."
He shook his head and her words faded away. "You are an elf, Nuila," he explained. "You can close your eyes and enter the blessed act of reverie, reliving memories, and regaining your strength. You need not sleep, especially when it tortures you so obviously."
She kept staring at him and he sighed. Brought up by humans in a human environment, and look at her -- she cannot even perform the most basic of elven undertakings. "You keep your eyes open, relax… allow yourself to drift into your past."
She nodded to him, suddenly determined, though her clueless expression failed to fill him with confidence. She shooed Imoen away slightly and settled herself back down into her bedding. He watched as she took a deep breath, tense and anxious as she lay there. He shook his head."No, Nuila, you must relax," he coaxed, taking her hand gently and trying to encourage her to unwind as he spoke in a low, soothing tone while he stroked the soft skin on the back of her hand. Eventually her muscles relaxed slightly and her breathing became more regular. He watched her for a while in silence as Imoen sat by his side, but before long her eyes fluttered shut and she started twitching, her mouth moving as she tried to speak.
"She's asleep," said Imoen with disappointment, carefully leaning over to shake her friend awake before her slumber became too deep. Nuila woke up quickly, but was almost as dazed as before, upset once more at the scenes she'd freshly witnessed.
"It's hopeless," said Xan dourly. "I cannot teach you what it means to reverie by words alone. As a baby, your mother would have entered such a state with you while she was still with child, and it would have become a natural process for you. There is no real way to convert that into instructions."
She sighed and he felt his heart swell in his chest until it felt like it would burst -- she looked so forlorn and helpless, the dark circles under her eyes casting a shadow across her face. He took a deep breath and tried to explain again, in more depth, how to call on the state of reverie. The rest of his watch was spent with him watching her drift off, only to discover she'd fallen asleep, and she would waken up with her breath shallow and her heart racing. There was only one thing left to try.
After Imoen had fallen into her bed, snoring wildly, and Branwen and Garrick had taken their positions by the fire, Xan returned to Nuila's side. She apologised to him as he approached, but he shook his head, stopping her words. "Take my hand," he said insistently, laying himself down beside her. She regarded him with curiosity but he ignored her -- the ground was hard and uncomfortable, but it didn't matter to him in the slightest. She did as he ordered, lying by his side at his word, her breathing becoming regular and content as his words became softer and quieter. Tentatively he reached out to her in the spirit of communion, finding her to be open -- unaware of another of the skills her kin possessed -- and it was easy for him to entice her into his thoughts as he drifted into his reverie.
When the images around him settled, he could feel her presence. Around him were the leafy terraces of Evereska and the majestic spires of the place he called home. A line of blue leaf trees lined the road before him, running alongside the path which itself was covered with forget-me-nots and daisies that had spread from the verdant lawns at either side. Many of the trees were sculpted into the shapes of animals and regal symbols, their foliage decorating the area with a tint of blue. A fine mist hung in the air, cloaking the nearest houses, their balconies situated high above, offering what could only be assumed to be grand views of the surrounding city. A cat darted past, in rapid pursuit of its prey, and slowly the sound caught up with the vision -- a soft, lilting voice drifted through the air; the sweet sound of song echoing in the quiet valley.
Home. He began walking.
----------Xan stirred, feeling the familiar sensation of surprise that he was still alive. A quick glance to his side showed Nuila still in the throes of a peaceful reverie, though their link had been broken and she would stir soon after. Noises from nearby signalled the others preparing to move on, but he patiently waited until she came around herself, yawning and stretching as her consciousness returned. Eventually she looked over to him and broke into a huge smile. The shadows from her eyes were gone and the sparkle of life had returned in force. He found himself smiling in return without even meaning to.
"It was beautiful," she said quietly -- almost dreamily, he thought. "Is that really what it's like?"
He shrugged slightly. "The images you saw were a poor comparison to Evereska in its true beauty," he sighed, closing his eyes at the memory of his home. Reliving it in reverie was both a blessing and a curse; a welcome reminder of his home, but a bittersweet experience that couldn't ever be as glorious as the real thing.
"I will have to see it for myself one day," she said quite confidently. "Thank you for sharing it with me -- I... I hope it didn't upset you."
"No, it is fine," he said, assuring her as he stood up. He extended his hand to her, helping to heave her to her feet when she accepted his aid. She didn't let go of his hand instantly; instead she paused, looking thoughtful, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
"Next time we rest," she said carefully, "I'd... I'd like to try and show you Candlekeep. If you'd like to, I mean," she added hurriedly, almost as if she'd noticed his frown.
"I would... like that," he replied, meaning it. "The exertion of sharing a reverie, however, may be too much to attempt at every rest -- but I would be... flattered to share with your memories, and allow you to share mine, whenever possible."
She smiled widely to him, suddenly throwing her arms around his frame. He froze in surprise, and she'd pulled away before he managed to think about reacting. He silently cursed himself as she backed away slightly -- she was still smiling, however.
"It is, alas, beyond my skill to erect a mental barrier to protect you from the dreams that haunt your sleep," he said softly, "but I if I can give you even a brief respite from the horrors you see at rest every few days, then I shall."
"Thank you," she repeated, her face dropping slightly, her eyes darting up to look at him as she smiled bashfully. Her hands were behind her back, her feet shuffling shyly. His heart appeared to cease functioning and he wondered if he'd suddenly died to be faced with such a vision.But then it was gone -- Imoen bounded over, asking Nuila what she saw and demanding details of everything while Branwen barked over to him, ordering his help with the packing. He sighed heavily -- the moment had passed and life returned to normal -- well, as normal as it got with his current companions.