Author's Note: I'm glad so many of you have kept the patience with this story, despite it's sporadic updates. I did think that there'd be varying amounts of time passing between chapters, but nowhere near as bad as it turned out... still! I'm on a bit of a roll, so without further ado...

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I don't believe in an interventionist God

But I know, darling, that you do

But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him

Not to intervene when it came to you

Not to touch a hair on your head

To leave you as you are

And if He felt He had to direct you

Then direct you into my arms

-- Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Into My Arms

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There was still no sign of the Harpers when they awoke the next day, though Nuila didn't appear to be overly worried. Xan had to agree with her, secretly -- they appeared to be very capable and shared years of experience between them. A few kobolds wouldn't prove to be too much difficulty for them, especially not so soon after their exploits in the mine.

He didn't tell anyone this though.

"It's hopeless," he sighed, ignoring Nuila as she rolled her eyes. "If we go searching for them, we'll only succeed in having the unsavoury discovery of their dismembered corpses littering the path somewhere between here and the ruined bridge."

"Right," she said, sounding somewhat unconvinced. "Then we'll stay here another day, and wait a bit longer." She gave him a defiantly exasperated look, and then started fidgeting in her seat. There was only so much he could take.

"You are our leader," he pointed out. "It is up to you what we do, not I."

"Your opinions matters, though," she argued. "I mean, especially compared to some others in our group." She sighed and looked around. They were sitting on a small, wooden bench that was, really, too small for them and only meant that there was very little space between them. The sun was rising in the sky, and halflings were passing on a frequent basis, offering friendly smiles and over-enthusiastic curtsies and bows.

"You know, when I was younger, back at Candlekeep," Nuila began, thoughtfully, "I read all these tales about adventurers, and... well, none of it is true, is it?"

He raised an eyebrow at her questioning gaze.

"Well. For example, I don't think I've ever read of a famous adventuring party consisting of an elven girl, her human sister, a gnome with delusions of grandeur, an overseas priestess, and a depressed mage. Though at least we have the striving squire, which means we're, perhaps, not a total loss... Seriously, though. The tales I read... they had drow in their parties! And half-demons, and extra-planar creatures, and lycanthropes, and-"

"And no one actually normal?" he interrupted. She grinned at him.

"Touché. Still, it'd be nice to have someone interesting with us; well, someone who wasn't completely convinced that he's actually the favoured avatar of his God..."

"I wouldn't wish too hard," he warned. "You have no idea the kind of people that are out there, just waiting for you to meet them."

She chuckled and shrugged. "I suppose I'm just a bit disillusioned by it all. It's meant to be so glamorous, so exciting. And... it's not. It's either dangerous or boring -- there's nothing in between."

A silence fell as they sat in the warmth of the sun, each caught up in their own thoughts. Xan looked over to the village gates, where Ajantis and Branwen were dutifully patrolling the settlement perimeter. There was no sign of either Tiax or Imoen; Xan found himself unable to care where the gnome was, but did worry, slightly, about the pink-haired girl's notable absence. He quickly swept the notion from his mind; Nuila had shown no concern at Imoen's lack of presence, so the human girl had obviously informed their leader of whatever it was she was doing.

"I don't know," Nuila sighed. "It's really nice here, but I'm getting this terrible feeling, that I'm actually completely bo-"

"Kobolds!"

Nuila leapt to her feet at the sound of Branwen's shout, and she was off and running before Xan was even standing up. He followed as quickly as he could, only just remembering to snatch his spellbook up from the stone ledge he'd left it on, his heart beginning its familiar racing beat.

He approached the gate, where Nuila was already staring off into the distance, one hand up and across her brow as she tried to block out the glare of the sun. A yipping noise could be heard faintly, and somewhere behind him, he could hear both Imoen and Tiax's voices as they also appeared, preparing themselves for combat.

The gnome was praying rapidly, his voice high and excitable compared to Branwen's own calm and controlled offers of entreaty. Ajantis was calling for the halfling guards, taking command of them, and directing them to their battle positions to best try and fortify the village. He could barely hear Imoen's own voice as she whispered one of her newer spells, but a quick glance to her showed a faint blue outline enveloping around her. She grinned over to him, and held her thumb up in the air. He felt a little more comfortable, knowing that she'd paid enough attention to master the manipulation of magical armour.

It was as he turned back to Nuila that his world slowed right down. She didn't seem to have moved at all, her attention still fixed on the plains stretching out into the distance. A slight movement caught his eye; a bounding creature approaching from her side, sword held firmly in its grasp. He opened his mouth to cry a warning, but it seemed to take an impossibly long time for his voice to react. Instead, he was unable to do anything but watch as it got closer and closer...

And then it was within striking distance. His hands were automatically trying to free the owl feather he needed from several other components, but he couldn't take his eyes off the kobold and his leader. He barely noticed her muscles tensing; she'd given no sign that she noticed the creature's approach, but then, suddenly, she'd darted forward, dodging its clumsy lunge, spinning around to face it with a fierce glint in her eye and a cold, calm expression on her face. It was trying to recover from its balance when she struck it firmly in the head, a sickening crunch coming from the noise of impact between her brass dusters and the kobold's skull. It crumpled to the ground.

She only just managed to jump out of the way of an arrow.

"Back, back" she shouted, running towards Xan and dragging him with her as they moved away from the gate. Suddenly he saw more of them -- all safely within the town's perimeter, already engaging the squire and the priestess in their battle. They had no hope -- the halfling guards were peppering the stray kobolds with slingshots, and both Imoen and Tiax were providing divine and arcane back-up to the warriors who easily cleaved and bludgeoned their foes.

Nuila wasn't watching, though.

"Here," she hissed, her hand still gripping onto his sleeve tightly, leaving him with no option but to follow her as she all but ran over to the far side of the village. One lone house was nestled into a grove of trees, the settlement's stone wall showing signs of having been extended to encircle the hut recently. The dusty ground was covered in small footprints; the smell of kobolds was unmistakeable.

"We should really get the others-" Xan began, realising Nuila's intention as she frowned at the home. She nodded absently.

"They'll follow when they have finished," she murmured. Then she looked up to him. "Don't you wonder how the kobolds got into the village so quickly? Branwen and Ajantis wouldn't have missed so many of them approaching, not even if they had managed to use cover. No..." She paused, glaring back at the hut. "No, I think we need to investigate this particular abode."

He hesitated, putting up a slight resistance as she moved to drag him along even further. She gave him a quizzical look.

"It's only a halfling's home," she pointed out, grinning slightly. "What's the worst that could happen?"

---

Nuila held up her hand and grimaced. "Just don't," she warned. "Don't say a word."

He shrugged helplessly and turned away to hide the hint of a smile on his face. Their current predicament was, of course, far from amusing to him, but he supposed it could possibly be worse. Tiax could be with them, for one thing...

As it was, they were currently all but barricaded into a dank underground storeroom, unable to make too much noise for fear of alerting the ogre mage who'd taken up residency in the room outside. The room that was, now, between them and the stairs to the halfling village.

Despite his objections, Nuila had marched into the halfling home, crouched down somewhat to avoid the extremely low beams, before proceeding to accost the owner of the burrow. Initially, the woman had been indignant over all charges levied at her, until Nuila had swooped down to grab an arrow, proclaiming it to be of the same make as the ones the kobolds outside were using.

Xan had to admit that there had been an awful smell of kobolds in the home...

The halfling woman had snapped her confession at them both, grabbing a nearby broom and brandishing it fiercely. It hadn't saved her, though -- Nuila seemed to be quite knowledgeable at the art of knocking people out, and she'd proceeded to try and drag the woman's body outside, to tell the mayor what they'd discovered.

Unfortunately for Xan, his robe had snagged on the corner of a bookshelf as he'd followed her. When he tried to pull it free, the whole case had swirled around, revealing a stairway leading down into the darkness. Her eyes had shone, and he'd groaned -- suddenly her prisoner was forgotten, and she was venturing into the unknown. He'd had no option but to follow her down, into a large, open room, with a table, some chairs, and a horrible, horrible smell.

Nuila had proceeded to look around, poking and prodding at various things with a frown on her face, while he waited, twitchily, at the bottom of the steps, thankful that she'd managed to ignore the one passage leading away. Then she'd found something; some symbols on a stone in the wall, at the other side of the room, and next to a wooden door. She'd called him over to translate them, and he'd reluctantly complied.

The stone had said 'Basement'.

Then they'd heard someone approaching swiftly, their voice echoing around the corridor and becoming louder and louder. Nuila had pushed the door open, shoved Xan in first, then followed quickly, closing the door behind them and managing to move a few boxes in front of it to hold it shut tight. He'd caught a glimpse of an ogre through one of the cracks in the frame, and had groaned. The room they found themselves in was tiny, and there were no other exits. They were trapped. Fortunately for them, the creature outside appeared to have no interest in the bare, small room.

When he turned back to her, he noticed she'd removed her cloak, spreading it out on the ground to provide a thin layer of insulation against the cold stone. She'd settled down, looking rather uncomfortable nevertheless, but had left plenty of room for him to also utilise the makeshift blanket, should he choose to. He forced himself to look away, aware that his gaze on her was bordering on one of fondness. Thankfully, she'd been glaring off, into the distance, her arms folded in obvious annoyance. Another quick glance through the tiny crack in the wooden frame showed that the ogre had settled down into one of the chairs, and seemed to be intently studying a piece of parchment. With a sigh, Xan moved over and carefully settled himself down beside his elven companion. Neither spoke for a long time.

"Xan?" Nuila was, at least, sensible enough to keep her voice low.

"Hmm?" He looked over to her. Her frown had gone; she looked almost sad, and her eyes gleamed with seriousness. For a horrible moment, he feared the worst.

"There's something I've been wanting to ask, that is, if... if you don't mind."

"I..."

"It's about the time we spoke before, in Nashkel."

His throat went dry. He just nodded.

"I mean, I know we spoke about it before we left, but it... that is, I didn't..." She took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that... is... that..." She threw her hands up, covering her face in them and shaking her head. "Gods, what is wrong with me?" he heard her mumble.

He shifted uncomfortably. A million voices were trying to make themselves heard in his head, but he paid attention to none of them. The silence lingered, until eventually she removed her hands, sighed deeply and gave him a pointed look.

"When we sat by the river, do you remember? What we spoke about? The things we said?"

Of course I do. "Yes," he said, simply. He looked away from her.

"I was trying to say something to you, but... but I think that you misunderstood me. Or, you did really understand me, and you were trying to spare my feelings, perhaps. I can't decide."

"I think I understood you well enough."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. A quick glance revealed that she'd looked away, staring ahead of her at something on the far wall. "So you were... I mean, yes. That would make sense, I suppose. I guess I should apologise... for asking to travel on with you, then. I think... I think I thought that you'd maybe change your mind, one day. Or something. I don't know. Perhaps I'm just young and foolish." She gave a weak laugh.

He stared at her with complete confusion. "I don't think I understand," he said.

She shrugged. "I mean that being friends is better than nothing. It's not like we've known each other long, anyway, and it's not like I have anything to compare it to. I might be... I might be kidding myself." She shook her head again. "No wonder you think I'm such a child."

"Nuila... what are you saying? You have completely lost me."

She met his eyes, her own narrowed as she peered at him with her brow furrowed. "I'm... I'm apologising for before. When I tried to... when I was hinting that... when I didn't have the courage to tell you what I was feeling, and I hoped you'd pick up my... meaning..."

He felt the blood drain from his head. He felt his hands begin to shake as they rested on his lap. He had thought his throat was dry, already; somehow it became even drier. He thought his vocal chords had abandoned him, but he managed a barely audible croak.

"I tried to convince myself that you'd missed my meaning," she continued, looking down at her own hands as they fiddled with her dusters. "That I hadn't been clear, or something. Imoen assured me that it was better to be subtle about it -- that people didn't just march up to someone and declare their feelings, but… but I've not had the experience... I've not read the books she has."

He tried to say her name, but only managed a wheeze.

"So I thought I'd have to ask you, but then you came to talk to me before we left Nashkel. And... and I was going to ask, but... you said you'd not misunderstood me, and then you seemed very... dismissive of the idea of us travelling together after all this..." She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniff. "I guess I already knew, deep down. I just hope that you can... ignore it, maybe? I mean, I wouldn't want to lose your friendship over it; I... I hope you feel the same."

He forced himself to swallow. "I... I don't feel the way you think I feel."

She closed her eyes. "I know. I'd rather... rather not go over it, if it's all right? I have a lot to learn, and-"

"Nuila." He kept his voice gentle, but insistent. She stopped talking, but remained close-eyed, her knees now drawn up before her, looking every inch as vulnerable as she had when they sat in front of the campfire, not long after he joined their group. "I need to explain. Please."

She visibly flinched, but nodded slowly. He thought she was about to start crying and he briefly entertained the idea of putting his arm around her, before deciding against. He paused for a moment, organising his thoughts, and then spoke.

"I cannot believe you are blind and deaf, Nuila. But then, perhaps I should say the same about myself? The day we spoke, with the sun shining down on us... I longed to speak to you of my feelings... my desires. But I could not, for fear that it would be thrown back at me, and because I know little else, except for the duty I have to my People. When you spoke of the importance of our friendship, it was like a physical blow. I felt that it was all you sought, and I needed the time and space to accept it and tell myself how foolish I'd been."

She was staring at him; her eyes were wide, her look disbelieving. He didn't let her interrupt.

"However sad and sorry this feeling is... no, I will not malign it." He sighed heavily. "I feel for you, Nuila, everything that a man can feel for a woman. Affection, attraction, love, desire - but it will not end well. It cannot."

"Xan-"

"I have already told you of my moonblade. You know of my duties as a Greycloak. Nameless assassins hunt you; your own foster father was murdered protecting you shortly after you left your home. I have come close to leaving your company twice now, because I was not sure how long I could cope with how I... felt. And now... now..." He laughed, but felt no mirth. What a cruel, cruel discovery. He felt sadder than he had in a long time. "I cannot go on. If this continued, you will be hurt. You will suffer when I die, and I won't have that. What is the point of shielding you from enemies, if I cannot protect you from myself? You have a chance to survive; you are capable and strong. When your quest is dealt with, you will be able to lead a normal life, while I will embrace another mission, and my trials will last beyond the grave, which is not far away." He sighed. "After I die, there is nothing, unless you'd like to keep the Moonblade as a souvenir of sorts; though it is unlikely, as it shall no doubt demand another wielder." He looked into her eyes, and hesitantly reached out, gently touching her cheek. "I have seen our kin die of grief after one of the lovers has passed away, and the bond between them has been broken. It must not happen to you. Ever."

Suddenly her arms were around him, and her face was burrowed into his robes. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, wanting to push her away, but instead, he returned her embrace. Hanali has a cruel streak.

"You can't leave," came her muffled voice. "I won't let you, I won't!" She pulled back slightly, so her face was only inches from his. "Do you... really...?"

"Nuila..." He gently moved, putting a more comfortable distance between them. She managed to somehow hang onto both of his hands, however. "There is nothing left to discuss. It is futile to even-"

"Can't you forget about the future? Can you not even try; attempt to think that things will maybe work out? Can you? For... for me?"

He made a strangled noise, and looked anywhere -- anywhere -- but into those pleading green eyes. A lifetime seemed to pass, as she sat there, waiting for him to answer; unmoving, unspeaking. He felt himself subconsciously beginning to stroke her hands softly.

"You do not know what you are asking for," he eventually managed. "What you suggest is sheer madness..."

"Please," she whispered.

"Nuila, no. You are young, you will recover." He caught her eyes, and his heart felt like it was about to burst. "No, do not look at me so, I..." His voice faltered; it was hopeless. He couldn't fight it any longer; despite his better judgement, despite his sensibility. "I shall stay with you, at least," he sighed. "I will aid you with your quest, I will..."

She was smiling at him. Her hands were squeezing his, and she was getting closer and closer to him. He felt his trembling increase.

"You have enchanted me stronger than any of my colleagues could," he whispered breathlessly. "If you only knew how it scares me..."

His eyes closed as he felt her breath on his skin, and he prepared for their lips to meet.

Neither of them expected the explosion in the storeroom outside.