The forest was oddly silent as Aithwen moved over the moss and through the quaking boughs of aspens and under the sharp needle-leaved trees. The birds and small animals had long since fled from the area of the forest the druid quietly glided through. Extending her senses outward as she moved carefully and quickly over the uneven ground, she prepared her delicately carved ice-white bow as she crept forward, finally catching the slight sound of struggle from the tiny clearing ahead: something big was caught in her snare today.
A grunt and what sounded like an exasperated sigh caused her to pause in her movements as a flurry of elven curses were flung into the air by a low voice. Smirking to herself she realized she hadn't just caught a large animal, but a person. A male person if the timbre of the voice proved true. The decades spent traveling around the lands far below the northern mountains proved one can never truly know by sound alone. Afterall, one of her dearly departed friends changed genders and faces as often as a typical being changed their clothes.
Lengthening her steps without the need to be silent she angled her approach to peer through the low growing willow shrubs toward her catch. The sight that greeted her was an amusingly fantastic one. Dangling from the heavy vine trap was a pale skinned elf with platinum hair that had a hint of pale blue along the tips of the curling strands, dressed in clothing far too grand (and too colorful) for a stroll so deep in these unnamed northern woods. Studying the form as it swayed, she noted her suspicion to be correct: she had indeed caught a male, and a handsome one at that. Likely a noble or merchant based on the elaborate cut of his clothing and the practically new condition of the light traveling pack that had tipped to its side when he was whisked into the air. As she studied him, he began what she assumed was yet another futile attempt to free himself from the enchanted vines. Bending at the waist, he attempted to pry the heavy cord away enough to slip slender fingers beneath in hopes of loosening the snare and escaping. The leg not caught was neither help nor hindrance in his endeavor, and she noted with appreciation that he had very precise control of his limbs and was likely quite lithely muscular as the minutes ticked by with him folded in half without success.
A grunt and dramatic sigh accompanied by more curses - this time in the common language of the Underdark - flowed from his mouth as he gave up the attempt and swung rather violently from the vine. Debating with herself for only a moment, she made a chuffing noise and sent her magic to call out to the dire wolf cubs that were following in her wake. Smirking, she decided to have a little fun at the poor man's behest. If getting caught and held in her snare didn't teach him not to go thrashing about in unfamiliar woods, perhaps a little embarrassment would accomplish the task.
"My, my, my. What have we here? Has a little fox gotten itself caught in my snare?" The druid allowed her voice to ring out, mocking and sweet, using magic to manipulate the air and cause the sound to bounce and echo around the captured man. Smiling at the light panic in his expression as his odd crimson eyes darted around the small clearing, attempting and failing to locate her. She allowed a moment for his panic before standing tall and striding confidently into the clearing. "Hmm. Well, well. It seems I've not caught a fox, but a man! Or perhaps you are a fox in disguise?" She tilted her head to the side, "One can never know." Shrugging dramatically, she sighed, "Ah, well, I suppose the wolves will enjoy you for a snack either way." The male's eyes widened almost comically as he began sputtering. She could see him preparing to protest when she sensed the twin cubs approach from behind her location. Making a small gesture to them with the fingers of her right hand, the large wolves stepped into the clearing, one on each side of their druid mistress. Fighting to keep her face balanced between uncaring and stern, she watched in amusement as the male paled further, floundered and began his sputtering protest.
"Wait! Wait, wait just a sodding moment 'ere!" He exclaimed, his hands waving through the air. "Let's not be hasty now, pet! I-I got myself lost, and, and ended up here completely by mistake! I meant no harm, luv! Cross my heart." He did his best to drip sweet sincerity in his words, although he found putting his normal levels of charm to use was quite difficult while upside down and swaying. "Perhaps you could let me down and we can discuss further actions in a more… upright, manner? Hm? I do confess, it's a bit of a sodding toss to defend oneself or even think properly while dangling by one's ankle from a tree." He gave her his best crooked smile, one that had won over many hearts over the years.
Tch. Trying to charm me. Cute. The druid looked over the male slowly. She was intending on letting him down to give him a good scolding before sending him on his way, but there was no harm in letting him squirm a little before doing so. He really is quite handsome, beautiful even. And there's something a bit, off, about him. He doesn't seem like a normal elf. It's familiar, I can't quite place it… Anyway, why in the hells would he be this far northeast? Hartswick is two days to the west and there is nothing of civilization further north… could he really be lost? Or is he yet another fool looking for power and the ruins of the Vale? Or worse, is he looking for the secrets beneath the Spires? If so, I'll have to get rid of him, and quickly. I can't allow those hidden things to be released into the world.
As the druidess pondered the male dangling before her, said male began to feel very concerned for his future wellbeing. The woman was obviously a druid and wood elf, the feathers and beads woven into the braids of her auburn hair and her slightly ruddy sun-kissed complexion gave that away fairly quickly. Her form was stockier than most elves he was familiar with, the few wood elves he had met over his life had been all over the place in size compared to high elves like himself. Of course, that could just be the clothing she wore. Like so many beings this far north, she wore layers of thick cotton, leather and hide. Her auburn hair was braided and twisted to be out of her way, but the combination of thin white streaks in her hair and the immense sense of power and aura of command coming from her gave the impression of an elf well into their fourth or fifth century of life despite the fact that she looked barely old enough to be an adult by elven standards. He swallowed hard as his eyes perused her, his mouth dry with both tension and hunger. I can't die here… not now that I've come so far… I have to get her on my side, somehow. If she is as powerful as she feels, perhaps she could hide me long enough for me to figure out how to cut my connection with the wench… Or perhaps she could cut it herself.
Preparing himself to speak again, to perhaps plead with the woman this time, his jaw snapped shut audibly as the vines holding him suddenly began to relax and lower him fairly quickly toward the ground as the druidess gestured toward the tree and her magic flowed. The unnamed woman guided the vines to lay him softly on the forest floor, allowing him to right himself into a seated position before releasing their hold from his now throbbing ankle.
"Oh-ho, cheers luv! I'm g-" The darker of the wolves cut off his attempt to speak to the druidess with a vicious sounding growl and menacing leap forward. His jaw audibly snapped shut yet again at the sound.
"Patience, sweetling, patience." The druid crooned softly, extending a hand to card through the large wolf's dark tan and white fur, her icy gray eyes locked on the other elf. "We shall have him explain himself first, yes?" The wolf huffed and returned to her side, leaning into the woman's caress while keeping steely eyes trained on the male. "Good. Now. You will tell me exactly why you are here and how you came to be in my woods. Explain thoroughly and succinctly. If I am not satisfied, you will be today's meal for the twins, understood?" The male nodded stiffly, the ice in the druid's gray gaze sending a chill down his spine.
Opening his mouth to speak he found it was even drier than before. Closing his mouth and swallowing thickly he struggled to suppress the shudder the druid's intense stare was triggering in his spine. Those eyes… Who is this woman? He lost himself in admiring the woman before him as she waited for his answer.
The second wolf began a low growl, unhappy with the stranger staring so intently at their mistress. The sound broke through the unknown elf's reverie, bringing him back to the expectant and slightly amused look on the druid's face.
"Apologies, milady." He placed his hand over his heart and gave a little bow toward the woman. "I did not expect to meet a bird so lovely in this far-off place. Nor did I expect to be swept up by a hunter's snare, careless of me, really." Standing quickly as the druid's expression darkened at his words, he absently brushed at his dark pants before straightening and rearranging himself to give a full, dramatic bow. "My name is Rhyldan Sirannon. I apologize for interloping in your woods, luv, I was unaware that this strand was under a druid's eye. I'm afraid the stress of traveling so far north so quickly has gotten to me and I forgot myself for a moment." He straightened with a flourish and light chuckle, a charming smile painted on his face.
"Hm. That doesn't explain why you are in these woods. There are no settlements within two day's walk northwest of the wood, and certainly no proper settlements within or past the mountains beyond. The larger towns are back the way you came, south, or far to the east beyond the High Ice. These are secluded woods, untouched by any civilization. And it is my intent to keep it that way." The druidess spoke calmly, but the threat was thick under her words, Rhyldan's attempt at charming the woman was failing miserably.
"Ah, yes, well…." Rhyldan sheepishly began rubbing the back of his neck, "My presence is a bit harder to explain and is fairly involved..." He sighed as the druid continued to stare at him expectantly. "Basically, I am running away. I took something from someone terrible and am looking to disappear before the ol' bint can find me. She has always had a disdain for snow and cold so I decided to head north as far and as fast as possible. It is my hope that by going somewhere unpopulated it would be easier to vanish from the bitch's grabbing hands."
The druid cocked her head to the side, studying the male - Rhyldan - closer. His clothes were expensive, a beautifully dyed dark indigo cloth and embroidered with complimentary threads, but worn and dusty. His boots were likely whatever was fashionable in the southlands, they certainly were not designed to survive the amount of travel he obviously had done as they were scuffed and cracked, the leather dried out from abuse. His skin was oddly pale, even for a high elf. His eyes were an intriguing dark ruby color and the slight waves of his pale hair was tousled from his time upside down. He gave the air of a being who cared very much about his appearance. The fact that he appeared so travel-worn and was so far from 'civilization' was curious. She watched as he ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous attempt to tame the platinum locks, carefully tucking the offending strands behind his elegantly pointed ears and moving to brush the dust from his clothes. He didn't seem to be lying, at least, not completely. He was certainly running from something, someone. Whoever it was, she could tell he was desperate not to be found by the slight panic beneath his words.
"You aren't telling me the complete truth, but you aren't lying either." The druid continued her study of the other elf. "Very well. You will accompany me as I finish checking my snares hidden throughout the wood and ten back to my home. I will escort you out at dawn. You will not wander alone at night. Not if you desire to survive long enough to hide from whomever you are running from. There are a great many dangers that emerge once the sun sets. That is the only warning I will give and I shall not elaborate. Once I have escorted you out, I expect to not see you again. Understood?" Her icy gray-blue eyes blinked slowly as she waited for the male's response.
Rhyldan nodded eagerly. "Of course! Whatever you desire, pet." He smiled his charming, crooked smile, still trying to win the druid over. "May I have the name of my… beautiful hostess before we leave this lovely locale?" Another slight bow accompanied the heated look his dark eyes raked over the druid's leather clad form.
Twin growls sounded from the wolves at her side, neither caring for the look, smell or attitude of the strange elf. "Skye, Myst. Enough." The druid barked sharply at the wolves, both flinching at the tone and halting their growls with apologetic wimpers. Bringing her pale eyes up to meet his, she gave a small nod of her head. "I am Aithwen. Fourth Rime of Auril."
"Aithwen. A name as lovely as you are, pet." Rhyldan bowed deeper this time, still attempting to charm the druid. He didn't know what a 'Fourth Rime of Auril' was, but recalling what little he knew of druid communities and old stories of the harsh nature goddess Auril, the frostmaiden, he concluded that it was in his best interest to obey the woman's words. The winter lady was not known for her leniency, nor her kindness.
A muted scoff broke from the druid's throat at Rhyldan's words. He must truly fancy himself a charmer. That, or those words must work wonders on cityfolk. It's almost adorable how hard he is trying. She shook her head lightly and turned back to the northeast. While she would normally wander the woods until well past sunset, having a 'guest' would force a change to her routine. In the daylight the unnamed forest she called home was much like any other you would encounter in the northern wilds of Faerun. But when the sun set, dark things came out to play. A few still had the ability to make even her nervous.
Having lived in the forest for over a century, most inhabitants were wise enough to leave Aithwen and her pack of mis-matched wolves be. The first decade after choosing to live in the little clearing and cave at the foot of one of the southern ice spire mountains was full of skirmishes and wounds. After many battles, power displays and acts of cruelty she and the inhabitants of the wood lived by the simple code of live and let be. Meaning that as long as they let her be, she would let them live.
Craig cats, winter wolves, treants, twig blights, yeth hounds, spectors, dire wolves, shades, yeti and recently some nasty creatures from the underdark caverns deep below the forest could be seen on any given night. Barely a tenday past she had fought and killed an aboleth that couldn't be reasoned with and had attacked the little pack of dire wolves she cared for. There were a few more frightening creatures that called the wood home as well, more intelligent and dangerous than beasts and simple monsters. There was the banshee, Cannail, that haunted the ice cold spring to the west near Lake Fiefs, the ancient and crippled black unicorn from Thay that resided in the dying glade to the northeast, the little coven of vampires who made their home on the southernmost edge of the northern run of the Ice Spires, and then there were the dragons who claimed the mountains as theirs. These beings she had made pacts or agreements with and tended to interact with fairly often. Well, often for her, at least. If once every few years could be called often. Rarer still were the interactions with the ice giants who lived just south of the eternal blizzard that raged far, far north of the mountain range.
Then there were the most dangerous beings in Hartsvale: the humanoids who inhabited Hartswick and the plains nearby. Most were human and thought the whole of the world belonged to them by mere fact of them existing on this plane. It was very rare now, but years ago it was not odd for Aithwen to find a hunter or timberman torn to shreds from trespassing the edge of the forest. Most in Hartswick now viewed the forest as haunted, protected by Auril herself. A view she had no intent on correcting and often played tricks to enforce. It wasn't that she hated humanoids, just didn't trust those who were not of druid or ranger kin. She had traveled all over Faerun when she was young and nearly everywhere she went it was the same: progress at the expense of the world itself. Filled with thoughts of dominance and profit, greed and lust, city dwellers forgot the simplest rule of the wild world: nothing lasts forever. It was a lesson taught by the oldest of gods and often neglected by the younger pantheons favored by those who lived south of the cold mountains.
Lost in her thoughts, Aithwen made her way swift and silent through the soft moss and hearty coniferous trees that populated her home, completely forgetting the stranger who followed her steps.
Rhyldan studied the druidess as she glided through the trees with a dire wolf on each side. She was quick, every step certain and utterly silent. A trait he found himself envious of. While he was more than capable of traveling unheard when he desired to, there was a certain grace and fluidity to how she moved. Almost like she was a part of the forest herself. I suppose she could be…I think I read once that all druidic types eventually become trees or animals or some such ridiculous thing somewhere… Rhyldan thought as he did his best to emulate each step Aithwen took. As he concentrated on her steps, he couldn't help but notice not only how her simple clothing seemed perfectly crafted for her, but also the lines of the muscles in her legs as she moved. Which led to him admiring what he could of her backside as she glided through the dappled light. Dressed in such a simple style, she seemed far more than she appeared. More lovely than even the fancy ladies of the city. She was an odd thing.
When he had glimpsed druids back in the city over the years, they had been dressed in rough and dirty leather or hide robes and armors often accented crudely by bark or leaves or fur. He remembered one that had a whole bird's nest on his shoulder, complete with bird shite down his arm. They all seemed a bit… disheveled. Unconnected or unconcerned with what others saw or thought. Not this woman. The druidess was well dressed in clothes that were made perfectly for her stature, her silver streaked tresses bound in intricate braids around beads, feathers and teeth. Each of her delicate ears were heavily pierced - rings of bone and silver wrapped around the appendages interspersed with smooth studs of blue tourmaline and sapphire. Her boots were supple pale gray leather, well worn and cared for. Thick cotton leggings of a shadowy blue-black tricked the mind into thinking her strong legs were shadows as she moved through the harsh forest with sure purpose. Her undertunic was cut long, hanging nearly to her knees and split into sections that covered her backside and thighs in an odd pattern of cream, gray and blue beneath the flexible off-white hide vest she wore over it. No sleeves covered the sun-kissed skin of her arms, but a strip of blue leather was bound around her right bicep and vambraces of dark boiled leather with silver threading protected her forearms and the back of her hands. Peeks of pale blue swirls licked at the underside of her elbows, barely hinting at a pair of tattoos on the skin beneath. At her side was a delicately curved falchion with an intricate elven hilt in a well polished wooden sheath, and secured to her back was a beautiful, but strange, white bow that looked like a set of draconic wings but had neither string nor arrows that he could see.
Distracted by the woman herself, Rhyldan completely missed the protruding root that sent him sprawling and tumbling through the moss into the split trunk of a large birch tree along their path.
Hearing a thud and barely covered curse behind her, Aithwen paused her stride and looked back at where the stranger should be. Instead of seeing him stumbling through the trees, she found him half lying on the mossy forest floor, his boot caught uncomfortably on a protruding root and his upper body tucked uncomfortably against a large birch's split trunk. A huff from the male wolf cub, Skye, carried amusement at the stranger's predicament.
"I bet you think I've never walked through the forest before, eh, pet?" The dark timbre of his voice held a tone of self-depreciation and amusement.
"The thought may have crossed my mind. Did you hurt yourself?" Aithwen asked with a small smile, crossing her arms as she looked on.
"Fairly certain I am fine, darling. Thank you for your concern." A crooked smile answered the druid as Rhyldan sat upright to untangle his boot from the offending root.
"I simply do not wish to carry you." The druid tossed the words over her shoulder as her pale eyes floated around the trees surrounding them. "Let us continue lest the sun set before we reach my home. Assuming you have not been rendered useless and can properly walk?" She met his smile with an amused smirk of her own as he gained his feet and dusted himself free of leaves and twigs.
Oh, she has a feisty streak. Rhyldan's smile widened. A light twinge traveled up his leg but quickly faded as his body's advanced healing ability took over. "I believe I will do just fine, pet."
"Hm. Do try to keep your eyes on the path ahead of you this time, yes?" Amusement flashed Aithwen's eyes as Rhyldan's crimson hued eyes widened.
"Guilty, my lady." A laugh and slight bow from the paler elf served as his apology. "You are a vision I did not expect in this place. As beautiful as the frosted world itself."
Aithwen shook her head at the flowery words. Flattery had never affected her much so it was amusing to hear this stranger throwing so much her way in his attempt to charm her. It was curious, how determined he seemed to be that she be charmed by him. The person he's running from must be terrifying if he feels he needs me of all beings on his side. Most don't consider druids as helpful allies, at least not until they have need of our magic. I wonder who exactly he is running from? He sounds like he's from the Heartlands. Likely Elturel or another of the river cities. Tsk. I've been so isolated these last years I can't think of anyone truly dangerous he could be running from. She began walking after a silent moment, slowing her pace slightly to avoid any more interruptions on their journey.
Rhyldan stood for a moment in shock before following. Did she just ignore me? This woman was certainly strange. His flattery and flirty words always won over those he aimed it at. It was a talent his so-called mistress exploited for decades, honed to near perfection by the sheer need of his to survive one more cursed night. Even if one more night was only one more night of living hell. Dark memories brought a scowl to his handsome face as the peaceful forest passed by.
Hours passed with both elves lost in their own thoughts. The wolves, Skye and Myst, each kept a wary eye on both as they traveled. It was unlike their mistress to be ruffled by a stranger, let alone invite that stranger back to their home. Normally, she scared them and sent them on their way. Or killed them. Perhaps it was the strange way the male smelt that flustered their mistress and changed her behavior. The few other elves they had met in their lives smelt of sun, leaves and various flowers. Not this one, however. This one had an undertone of stale blood beneath a false flowery smell that tickled their sensitive noses and set their instincts on edge.
As the sun dipped behind the mountains of the Ice Spires, Aithwen slowed to a stop and turned to look at the sullen elf behind her. Rhyldan perked up as he realized the druidess was looking at him. "Problem, pet?" He asked, giving her a crooked smile.
"You've been quiet." Aithwen observed. "As has the forest. I was nearly certain you would drive me crazy with chatter as we traveled." Her pale eyes reflected the graying light as she blinked slowly, studying Rhyldan.
Swallowing heavily, he shrugged nonchalantly. "Didn't want to distract you, luv. I may not know much about druidic-types, but I know they take protecting their groves very seriously and kindness from one shouldn't be taken for granted." A crooked eyebrow answered his words and his smile faded away with a sigh. "Honestly, pet, I was lost in my thoughts. I have traveled very far and, well, haven't exactly taken the best care of myself in my haste. You are the first person I've actually had anything resembling a conversation with in tendays." He fixed pretty crimson-brown eyes on Aithwen. Don't dig, lovely, please… he thought desperately.
Aithwen studied him again. There was something… otherly about her guest. It wasn't his travel-worn state nor obvious physical weakness from not eating properly for a few days, but something else. It bothered her. There were traces of some old magic that pumped slowly through his veins. It was familiar, reminiscent of the magic that flowed through the vampires of the high peaks, but this man walked about in the daylight and had even crossed through a narrow stream as he followed her so she doubted it was that. Even if he smelled a bit like them. It was curious. Perhaps this person he was running from is vampiric and it is that being she sensed on him.
"You are curious." She said, her head tilting birdlike to the left.
"Um, thank you?" Rhyldan smiled charmingly, hands resting loose at his sides.
"I don't care for it, honestly. Curiosity brings questions. Or foolish actions." The druid said quietly, her eyes studying his face. "We're nearly there." She turned and continued walking through the trees, the setting sun filtering through the leaves set her auburn hair aflame, glinting off strands of silver woven through her braids and Rhyldan found himself catching his breath even more than when she turned her icey gray-blue gaze on him.
"I'm curious? Just who and what are you, pretty one? Hm?" Rhyldan muttered under his breath before following the druid.