Author's Note: Moving house does not lend itself favourably to pursuing ones hobbies it seems. I need to crack out BG again, as well, to familiarise myself with some bits and pieces sigh So, bearing in mind that this was written over several different days, and while I had no real access to the game, I hope it's… passable… :)

--

In the water where the scent of my emotion

All the world will pass me by

Fly away on my zephyr

We're gonna live forever

Forever

-- Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Zephyr Song

--

"Fireball, huh?" Imoen looked mildly impressed, and immediately peeked over to Xan. "Can you teach me that one?"

He groaned as he sat on the too-small chair beside the too-hot fire and just shook his head. Imoen snorted and huffed, but was quickly quietened by Jaheira's continuation of her tale.

"Yes, Imoen, a fireball. That is why it was so loud and explosive, so hot and-"

"Firey?" Imoen ventured, somehow keeping her expression wholly innocent. The druid ignored her.

"It was then that we were certain that the kobolds did not act alone. They were co-ordinated by another." She paused, flashing an eagle-eyed stare at Nuila. "You remember when we were in the mines? Khalid and I told you that the kobolds were too organised?"

The elven girl nodded from her own seat; she was sitting cross-legged at the other side of the room by a small curtained window. They were in the halfling mayor's home, cramped and crowded. Imoen sat by her friend, now fiddling with a corner of the small rug, while Jaheira and Khalid perched upon stools beside a table that had been hastily pushed to the side to create more room. Tiax was trying to lounge on the sofa, though Branwen was proving to be a formidable opponent in the battle for dominance of the couch.

And Ajantis… well. The knight was in obviously tailored clothing, his armour left behind in their tavern rooms as it had proven to be too restrictive to wear in such confined surroundings. Xan had noticed Branwen throwing appraising looks over towards the squire, but had spent much of his time watching Nuila when the chance arose. He was quietly happy to see that she only gave Ajantis the briefest of genial nods before turning her attention back to the Harpers, despite Imoen's frequent nudges and obviously lewd whispers.

"And in the Nashkel Mines, it was Mulahey who organised them," Nuila said, her voice sounding gentle compared to the brisk, slightly harsh tones of the druid. "And we know why. But what was the ogre doing here?"

"The halfling, Jenkal, had some interesting things to say in your absence," Ajantis said. Xan noticed how Nuila's cheeks took a slightly pink tinge, and she began to study her knuckles intently.

"Yes, indeed," the mayor sighed. Gandolar Luckyfoot had been listening intently to most of the story, seemingly entranced by the druid's tale of the Harper's exploits under the ruins of the Firewine Bridge. They had travelled south and entered the dungeons beside one of the ancient gatehouses, then fought their way through hoards of ambushing kobolds, dealt with ancient spirits of knights, and finally reached the lair of the ogre mage who had unknowingly held Xan and Nuila captive in the village's storeroom.

The storeroom that was looked after by Jenkal, one of the village halflings.

"He is not happy with his people," Gandolar continued sadly, wringing his hands together as he spoke. He stood by the entrance to his cottage, too insistent that everyone else find somewhere to sit as they were visitors. "He says he received coin from the mage to allow access up and through his home for raids on our village. And he was happy to allow this."

"But why?" Nuila asked. She was frowning in confusion.

"Wronged him, we had," the mayor replied. "Apparently, anyway. He blamed us for the death of his daughter and wife, many years before. They had left the safety of the village one day and were caught by wolves in the forest to the west. We found their bodies, and hunted the wolves, but found nothing."

"But that wasn't your fault," Imoen said. "I mean, it must have been awful for him… But it could have happened to anyone!"

"It never did, though," Gandolar sighed. "We stay close to the walls of our village for our own security. Few have died here to anything except old age; and so Jenkal believed we were conspiring against him."

"He thought the deaths of his wife and child were planned by his acquaintances?" Jaheira asked.

"With time, he became bitter and withdrawn. We tried to move him from his home so we could better use the basement he had access to, but he refused. In the end, we dug another beneath the tavern, and left him to live alone on the outskirts. There was nothing we could do or say."

"But what about the ogre?" Branwen enquired. "What of its part in this matter?"

"The ogre w-was living on the adventurers who explored th-the ruins," Khalid explained. "We d-did not get a chance to talk to it, b-but…"

"But we found enough in the way of evidence," Jaheira concluded firmly. "And when we confronted the ogre in its den, it did not deny anything. Instead, it spoke of someone called 'Carsa', and stated it would not stop until it regained what she had taken from it."

Xan cleared his throat. "Do we know who this 'Carsa' is?" he asked.

Jaheira shook her head. "We do not. The only thing we found on its body was a parchment referring to another ogre of magical ability, called 'Kahrk'."

"N-neither of these seem to relate to th-the troubles of the village," Khalid said gently, a quirky smile on his lips. "So w-we have not investigated further. There are matters more p-pressing than exploring the private l-life of a dead ogre."

Xan felt quite relieved; it was one less wild goose chase for Nuila and Imoen to become fixated on. Branwen, however, was frowning.

"So why did the ogre work with the kobold?" A few glances were exchanged.

"We can only offer guesses to their reasons," Jaheira noted. "It is likely, however, that it was convenient for the ogre and its followers to have such ready access to regular… prey." Her last word came out slowly and carefully; Xan noticed how she deftly avoided meeting the mayor's eye as he flinched at her choice of words.

"And if it was killing explorers in the ruins, it would have gained the money to pay the halfling for use of the route," Ajantis murmured to himself.

Jaheira nodded. "We found a deposit of equipment, which we have left in the tavern. We believe it came from the victims who fell, both halfling and not." She turned to the mayor. "It is yours to deal with as you see fit."

He nodded graciously. "We thank you for your efforts and success," he said, shuffling over to a large cupboard. He opened the door only slightly ajar, and pulled free a leather pouch, dyed green, and handed it to the druid. "As promised, your reward. We have little, but we would spare more to express our gratitude if we had it."

Jaheira looked hesitant for a second; Xan could see the pride on Gandolar's eyes, however, and the half-elf briskly passed the bag to her husband, and bowed her head to the halfling. "Thank you."

"The equipment you collected," Gandolar said, as one by one they began to stand and move towards the door. "Not all of it will be from our fallen kin. Any belongings alien to us shall be yours to serve you in your future travels." The mayor raised a hand as Jaheira opened her mouth to undoubtedly protest. "We are simple people; such trinkets and magics would be wasted here."

--

He found her outside, later that evening. The others were still looking through the fair amount of equipment that had been left after the halfling villagers removed the keepsakes from their fallen. She was sitting on the sturdy gate at the entrance to the halfling village, her legs swinging idly as she gazed to the south, seemingly caught in her own dreams. For a moment, he wondered if it was worth bothering her; she'd obviously sought quiet and solitariness. Who was he to intrude on her private time?

So he stopped short of reaching her, giving her a final, fond look, and then turning away to return to the others.

"Xan!"

She leapt from the gate and trotted over to him with a lazy smile on her face. He watched her, fighting to prevent his own lips curling upwards too, until she was there, standing next to him. Without a second thought, she'd wrapped both her arms around his own, and was dragging him along as she wandered slowly around the village.

He walked with her in silence, both awkward and content. He could feel her fingers drawing symbols on the back of his hand but he couldn't concentrate enough on it to determine if there was any significant pattern. He kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead, for he felt the colour rising in his cheeks whenever he tried to look over at her. But she seemed happy; she didn't try and initiate conversation, she didn't squirm or push herself closer to him.

And so they walked. The sun was setting, casting a fading glow across the clouds overhead. Had he not known better, Xan would have wondered if the Gods had set the sky on fire.

They'd managed to get to the far side of the settlement, when Nuila suddenly darted to the side, pulling at his robe as a signal for him to follow. She led the way into a small orchard, where the grass was neatly cut, and a few apples were resting on the ground, fallen from the boughs above. A small picket fence sectioned the area off, and a row of thorny bushes to their right obscured the harshest of the glare from the setting sun.

Nuila allowed herself to drop to the ground near the middle of the enclosure, but Xan lingered a few yards away; loitering, standing. His hands fidgeted with the hilt of his blade, and with the buckle on the belt of his robe, as she watched him for a few moments with an amused expression. Eventually he sighed and slowly moved over towards her, settling awkwardly onto the ground. She shuffled closer towards him, so they sat side-by-side, their arms touching. He felt colour rising into his cheeks.

"It's so quiet here, isn't it?" she asked, looking far away and into the distance. He carefully kept his own visual attention fixed to a large black crow sitting atop the poorly made halfling scarecrow in one of the fields outside the village walls, but offered a slight nod. The silence that followed was comfortable, to his relief.

"Jaheira and Khalid spoke to me earlier," she continued. "They suggested that I consider allowing them to accompany us to Cloakwood. That I should sleep on the matter and let them know my decision tomorrow." Her green eyes fixed on him. "What do you think?"

Xan offered a slight shrug. "The decision is, of course, your own to make. But… as you've asked my opinion, I will give it. They are experienced, Nuila – something you and Imoen are not. Even I am hopelessly overwhelmed by the task that lies ahead of us, despite my seasons as a Greycloak."

She nodded. "You're right, I know. And the others…"

Xan sighed. "The paladin is a fresh-faced youth with romantic aspirations that possibly culminate in the rescue of some poor damsel who will be in even more distress when he frees her from captivity and subjects her to his over-zealous sentiments regarding chivalry."

"Uh-huh." She almost looked amused.

"The warrior woman means well, I am sure; but she has spent a time encased in a prison of stone – which has not helped to even her temper at all, it would seem. I believe she is a potential liability, and could end up getting us all killed with her reckless actions and lust for battle."

"And Tiax?"

He snorted. "The gnome is quite clearly deranged. Even you must see that – despite what seems to be your tendency to just believe that people are full of character when, quite clearly, they are mad."

She was nodding. "I have to admit, there's something not quite… right about him…"

He rolled his eyes in despair, causing a giggle to erupt from her. This earned her a slightly hurt look from him, though she at least had the decency to appear abashed.

"You know I don't mean to be… well, mean," she said warmly, wrapping her arms around his arm and cuddling into him. "You're just..."

"Too amusing?" he finished for her, turning to her. Her head was now resting on his shoulder and he could smell the scent of her hair, though it was faint indeed. Lilacs and dandelions; it reminded him of Evereska, slightly, and he closed his eyes wistfully. Without thinking, he'd moved closer to her, and lightly brushed the top of her head with his lips in one fond move.

The realisation of what he'd done caused him to freeze momentarily, his eyes opening wide in horror. But, after what seemed like a lifetime, he heard a sigh coming from the girl who was attached to his arm; a contented, peaceful sound, followed by a short burst of wriggling as she made her way even closer to him. And then, gently, he rested his cheek on her hair, and looked out at the fields in silence with her.

They remained there for a long time.

--

The next day, Xan watched as Nuila attempted to quietly dismiss Tiax from the group. The gnome appeared to firstly be outraged by the idea, but this quickly turned into a petty display of reasoning whereby the priest declared that the group were unfit to accompany him on his destiny, and that when his day of ascension came, they would be the first to suffer.

The halflings of Gullykin watched with amusement as he stomped away into the distance, refusing the elven girl's offer to walk with them back towards Beregost. Instead, she just shrugged helplessly and wandered over to the enchanter.

"Are we parting ways with… many?" he asked carefully. To his relief she shook her head.

"I thought that we'd stand a pretty good chance at looking into the Cloakwood area if we all stuck together," she said. "But Tiax… well, he was rather loud, you know? And Jaheira told me there'd probably be a degree of stealth needed to get anywhere near the compound."

"So the half-elves are to accompany us?"

Nuila nodded, the smallest hint of a hesitant smile on her face. "As you said yesterday, they are experienced. Jaheira wants me to continue leading – she says I've grown in the past few weeks, and she doesn't want to hinder that development. But she also wants to help, and my father... Gorion… well, he was their friend."

"And the others?"

"You mean Branwen and Ajantis?" she asked, before continuing at his nod. "Well… I listened to what you said about them yesterday, and you do have a point. But I think we still need them. They're both quite capable, and you said it before, yourself – we stand a better chance while we number many."

"I wish I could truly see it that way, despite my words," he sighed dismally. "The truth is that we venture towards an unknown foe, interred in his underground lair with, probably, an entire army of mercenaries at his disposal to bar our way. It is hopeless, Nuila. Truly, magnificently, hopeless."

She nodded sadly. "But we have to do it, don't we? Otherwise, when will it all stop? I need to try and end the attacks on my life, and the others – and you – you all want to find out the cause of the banditry and iron shortage, and this is the next step. I'm just relieved our paths are the same for this part of the journey, because…"

"Because?"

"Because I'm not looking forward to the day when we'll go our separate ways." It was her turn to sigh heavily. He closed his eyes to avoid having to look at her forlorn face.

"You know I will have to go back to my people, to report, if nothing else…" he said. He opened his eyes again. "Eventually. But first, you will have my service, for as long as I can be of aid, in your own quest to find out the identity of your attackers."

She beamed a smile at him and threw her arms around his neck, whispering thank-yous into his ear as he awkwardly placed his arms around her in return.

He saw the druid standing a little away, watching them both with her hawkish eyes