Aithwen cocked an eyebrow as Rhyldan continued to stand unmoving in the little bloodstained clearing; his eyes studying her, obviously trying to put together the few puzzle pieces he had gathered about her so far into some cohesive whole. Too bad he won't truly figure anything out… Too bad? Really? She scoffed. What am I thinking… I am no youngling fretting over a companion or life-mate. Such things are not necessary in my life any longer. Yes, he may be attractive, incredibly so, but that means little and less. He could never be an equal, no mortal ever could be so there's no point in even entertaining thoughts about such things. They can never understand, never deal with what it really truly means to be an archdruid, let alone an Aurilian… Unknown to the archdruid, an echo of long suppressed loneliness flashed through her eyes just long enough to be noticed by Rhyldan; but before he could even ponder what he saw Jorix gave a loud, cracking gasp that sounded like ice shattering as her spell finally claimed his life.
Startled by the sound, Rhyldan looked over to where the unfortunate creature had been bound. Where once a strong kobold lay wrapped in vines, there was now what appeared to be a pile of jagged, shredded ice only vaguely kobold shaped. Hells… just how much power does the bird have to do that to a creature? Frightening… he thought as a shiver traveled up and down his spine.
"Rhyldan?" Aithwen prompted, watching the male gaping at the results of her magic.
"Hm? Oh, yes, sorry, luv." Rhyldan murmured as he shook his head and turned a wan smile to the druid. "Your magic is… uh, impressive. Frighteningly so. I've never heard of anything like it. Gift from Auril, yeah?" He asked as he moved to gather his small travel pack from the bushes where he had hidden it before joining the short fight.
"Sort of." Aithwen gave Rhyldan a sad smile. "There is much to the story behind that particular spell and how I came to wield it, but it is very long and very involved." She crossed her arms over her chest as Rhyldan began walking back toward her. "Though, I suppose if you were to simplify it as far as possible you would be correct. It is Aurilian magic, just incredibly rare and not one shared by many. I believe I am one of maybe three or four beings in all Toril who can cast that particular spell-curse."
Rhyldan nodded as he stopped an arms length away. "I can see why so many in the north fear Auril if that is the kind of power the icey bint can bestow."
Aithwen's brow furrowed, "Fear? I suppose it can be seen that way, but it isn't completely fear that you sense from the people of the north. At least not in a terror and horror sort of way. More a combination of reserved caution and reverence of her power over the natural world and our lives." She pushed off the tree she had leaned against. "And a little more care in addressing nature gods while in the wilds may be something for you to consider - there are those unfamiliar with southern accents and ways of speaking that may well take your words to be an insult to the Frostmaiden. Those both beast and humanoid." She extended a hand. "You'll need to be touching me to pass through my spell safely, remember?" She mirrored Rhyldan's cocked eyebrow and incredulous look perfectly; holding still until he shook his head, smirking, and placed his hand in hers. "Tell me, southerner, do you owe faith to a specific god or belief system? Perhaps I can put some Aurilian beliefs in a way that is easier to understand during your time in the northlands. If you'd like to know, that is." Blue eyes looked over at Rhyldan hopefully as she began pulling him toward the impassible looking trees.
An odd question, the gods don't mean much to me. What could the harm be in telling her that? It won't give her any information she shouldn't have. At least, I don't think it will… Rhyldan considered for a moment before deciding to give in to the druidess' question. Sighing, he spoke softly, "Well, as a child my parents honored Corellon Larethian as many of our neighbors did, but we were never devout. Honestly, never gave thought to the gods much after I reached adulthood, pet. 'Pologies to your lady if I offend."
Aithwen chuckled and pulled her guest further into the seemingly solid line of trees, passing easily through the complex illusion. "I understand that. Unlike most living this far north, I spent many years traveling through the lands below the Spine and Spires. Two and a half decades among the people of the Heartlands from Baldur's Gate to Elturel and all the settlements of the Chionthar, so your way of speaking is not unfamiliar to me. Your accent leads me to suspect you either come from or very near to Scornubel, if I am recalling it correctly." Her amused blue gaze met Rhyldan's surprised claret orbs over her shoulder as she led him through a maze of tightly packed real and illusory tree trunks. "Honestly, I am surprised you didn't notice my lack of reaction to your way of speaking to me. How many northern folk would allow an unknown male to call them 'pet' or 'luv' without either a fuss or a blush?"
Rhyldan laughed. "Hadn't actually thought about it, luv. 'Tis a normal way of speaking for me so I don't notice how most react to it. Plenty o' birds seem to enjoy it, find me downright charming they do."
Aithwen chuckled at the pleased look on the Scornubian elf's face. "I don't doubt that for a moment. Nearly there. Don't let go."
Rhyldan gave a little squeeze to Aithwen's hand in response just as the branches of the barrier trees seemed to get larger and harsher, pulling at his clothes and scratching at his skin. "Bleh! Ugh! Bloody hells!" Rhyldan caught a sappy branch with the side of his face, needles and bitter resin forcing themselves into his mouth.
With her guest sputtering and stumbling behind her, Aithwen rolled her eyes at the mischievousness that her protective living illusion spell seemed to have picked up. Perhaps being a refuge to lost and lonely things isn't for the best if this is how my magic decides to behave. Tisking and waving the fingers of her unoccupied hand in a little circle she sent a wave of chill magic to bolster her protection charm and bring it back into its proper behavior.
A wave of extreme cold seemed to pulse out from the druidess and sent a violent shiver through Rhyldan just as they broke through the treeline and stepped into what seemed to be another world entirely. Aithwen released her hold on Rhyldan's hand and took quick strides into the clearing, dropping to a knee to welcome the excited rush of a pack of wolves. Six arctic wolves, four direwolves and a pair of winter wolves all gathered around the druidess in a writing mass; cold noses, warm breath, frosted fur and waves of affection washed over Aithwen as she accepted each wolf's greeting in turn.
Rhyldan's crimson eyes roved slowly around the pristine clearing. While the forest they had traveled through was one of coniferous trees, moss, peat grass and stone; the clearing in which he stood was bathed in cool light and carpeted in soft blue-green grass that extended from the mountain to the treeline. Birch, elm, and maple trees framed a cozy looking cottage tucked against the gray-blue mountain stone. Fruiting trees in all stages of growth, from blossom to fruit, grew along a crystal clear and slow moving stream that cut the clearing almost perfectly in two. Snowy hare, gray foxes, songbirds and a pair of reddish deer wandered calmly through the peaceful glen.
"Lovely, isn't it?" Aithwen's voice came soft on the gentle chill wind. Rhyldan found he could only nod in response. "I take it from your expression you have never seen a Druid's Grove?" She asked, giving the direwolf pups one last pat before standing and walking back to stand next to the male elf.
"Indeed not. Heard rumors of groves, but this is quite different from that, innit?" Rhyldan spoke softly, awe in his voice. He couldn't remember ever seeing a more peaceful place in his entire life. The very ground radiated a feeling of safety, as though no ill intent could bloom. It was… refreshing.
"Magic, of course." Aithwen answered with a bright smile, her eyes traveling the clearing fondly. She knew what Rhyldan was feeling, what her magic conveyed. Long years ago she had cast the spell to create a sanctuary for those she invited in. A place where no harm - from hunter or weather - could pass. "Or at least, mostly. There is a spell druids of a certain aptitude are capable of casting to create such a grove. It takes nearly a month to accomplish, but the end result is an ideal place unique to the druid who did the casting. I dedicated an entire year and a great many additional prayers into the casting. What you are feeling is what I desired every being to feel upon entering this place. Acts of melicious violence cannot happen here, nor can they penetrate the magic infusing the trees that surround this place. Not that any intending harm would get through the treants, dryads and woads living within the illusion's boundaries, anyway." She placed a hand gently on his elbow. "Come inside, I am sure you are starving and wanting a bath. I may even have some clothing that may fit that you can borrow while what you are wearing gets cleaned and, well, mended."
Rhyldan's dark eyes moved to the calm woman standing at his side. "Hm? Oh, yes. That would be lovely. Sad to say I have no skill in mending things, luv." He shrugged somewhat sheepishly and began following Aithwen as she strode toward the small, cozy looking cottage that butted up against the rough stone of the mountain. "Um… not to be rude, pet, but are you sure you have room for me to impose?" He asked, not from true concern over putting the woman in an uncomfortable situation, but from worry that being so close to the druid would lead to her figuring out exactly what he was desperate to hide.
Aithwen's pale eyes gleamed with amusement, "Oh, I am quite sure." A sly smile spread over her face as she turned to walk backwards through the clearing. "And do not worry about your clothing, I am not the only one here who knows how to mend and make."
Rhyldan's eyebrows shot up, "Don't tell me the sodding rabbits know how to fix and make clothing like in some poncy child's tale."
Aithwen laughed, "No, no, sorry to disappoint, but the rabbits do not know how to use a needle." She raised her hands and wiggled her thumbs. "Sort of need thumbs to be successful at it and unlike some mages in the world I don't alter nature's forms." She turned back around and walked at Rhyldan's side. "No, there are two others of a more humanoid nature who reside in this glen with me most of the year. One is my apprentice, who is presently away, and the other you may or may not meet while you are a guest here. She is rather shy and tends to keep herself hidden away." Stopping at the simple wooden door leading into the cozy looking cottage, Aithwen smiled at Rhyldan as she pushed the door open. "Welcome to my home."
If Rhyldan could see his initial reaction to the inside of the druidess' home, he would kick himself for being such a damn git. Granted, the home looked like any other small forest cottage, but the woman had a dozen or more wolves and two others living in the same place. There would be no way they could all fit in such a small place without magic of some form being used. And he was an idiot for not realizing it before she opened the hand-carved door. He could feel her smirking at his shock as she moved further into what could only be described as walking through a portal to another world.
The place was certainly no noble's home, simply furnished as it was and colored in natural shades of blue and gray, but it was incredibly spacious and had an overall feeling of comfort and class. To the left of the door were long benches made of rough-hewn wood, sanded and smoothed until every grain reflected the light of the fire burning cherily in the large stone lined pit sunk into the center of the room. Boots, cloaks and a pair of soft leather slippers all had a place tucked and hung along the walls next to the benches. A few feet into the room the floor changed from hard packed earth to gleaming wood covered sparingly by long runs of carpet or plush furs. Around the fire sat comfortable looking cushions and chairs made from fallen wood. A lovely table setting made of a dark, slate blue stone carved with winding vines and leaves rested in the corner under a circular window etched with a snowflake that caught the light. There was a small kitchen area tucked along the left side of the room, a large wardrobe stood opposite the kitchen and two dark wood and paper doors of an unfamiliar style were on the far wall. All in all, the room was at least two or three times the size it looked to be from the outside.
"You may put your things in the wardrobe there. We keep that for our rare guests. You will find blankets and sets of clothing inside as well that you are welcome to while you are here. The door to the right will lead you to a little cavern with a hot spring that we use for bathing." Aithwen spoke matter of factly as she casually stripped off her outer vest and tunic and unlaced her boots. "There is also a cavern that houses Rothe and one that we use for making medicines and potions. My apprentice's quarters are deeper down that way as well. My living space is to the left. There are wards and such placed so don't go thinking to sneak in and see what I may have hidden while I am sleeping. It won't go well for you." The druid moved silently across the wide space and began gathering implements for cooking, including a kettle and teapot decorated with blue runes Rhyldan did not recognize. "Would you like a bath, tea or supper first?" Aithwen turned her blue eyes back to her guest, who was still standing in the open doorway. "Or perhaps you would just like to come in?"
Rhyldan's eyes snapped over to the druid, amusement clear on her face. "I… Oh, sod it, apologies pet. For some reason I wasn't expecting such a spacious home. Coulda figured it though, you being magic blessed an' all." He shook his head as he stepped into the druid's home and shut the door before taking a seat on the long bench to his left.
"Oh, it has little to do with 'blessed' or not. Simply skill and a knowledge of how to work stone. I'm no wizard or sorcerer - they can create the most amazing of things - but I can make life quite comfortable out here in the wilds." She leaned against the heavy table where the tea kettle and pot waited. "Some find it odd that I put such effort into my home, but I never did understand the druids who insist on sleeping in the dirt and grime." She smiled and shrugged. "I like things that are soft and warm. Even though I am an Aurilian and cold means nothing to me, I can still appreciate such things and find them pleasing to have. I know my apprentices have appreciated it. Those who last more than a season, at least." A sad smile graced Aithwen's face as she thought about apprentices who couldn't handle the rigorous expectations she held and returned south or who ignored her warnings about the night forest and had gotten themselves killed.
Rhyldan gazed at the woman as sadness flickered across her features like the firelight. "It is lovely, pet." He smiled as her blue eyes met his crimson. "And I'm coming to gather that you are not like any other druid I have heard of, encountered or am likely to encounter again." A light blush colored Aithwen's cheeks, barely perceptible as she turned around and busied herself with gathering leaves for tea.
"Do you have a preference for tea? I know some like it sweet or dark or spiced or any such way. I like to put fruit in my tea blends, but I know there are plenty around who dislike such things. My current apprentice prefers strong black teas, which I find quite bitter really, and we grow both green and black leaves as well as lots of different flowers and herbs that can be mixed in while brewing or after. So if you prefer something specific I have many options, unless you don't like tea at all… Hmm…"
Rhyldan chuckled as he finished removing his boots and tucked them under the bench. Bird's letting down her guard a bit. Rambling. Adorable. Standing soundlessly, he moved swiftly to stand at her elbow. "Whatever you feel like having would be just wonderful, pet." He said softly in her ear, smiling as Aithwen jumped at the proximity of his voice and glared at him before smiling herself.
"Careful, sneaking up on people can be hazardous for your health, you know." She teased as she took out a glass jar filled with dried leaves; the scent of tea, dried citrus and the barest hint of mint drifted to Rhyldan's sensitive nose as she opened the container and removed a measure for the teapot.
"That so? You seem quite sneaky yourself, pet. Would be rather hypocritical to scold someone you barely knew for a quality you possess as well, innit?" He responded as he moved away from the woman and leaned his hip into the table, his hand resting on the cool stone surface.
Aithwen tisked and turned away to set the kettle over the fire as she filled it with conjured water. "You really don't know much about druids, do you?" Blue eyes sparkled and laughed in the firelight. "Have you ever truly spent time in the wilds? Not just walking around or traveling through, but real time?" Striding silently back to Rhyldan, the druid quirked an eyebrow as the other elf just smirked - he was blocking her access to the teapot.
"I know the basics, or what general knowledge passes as basics, pet." Rhyldan shrugged, making no effort to move or be helpful. "And that depends. What would you consider as 'wilds'?" He smirked wider as the druidess huffed as leaned around him to gather the necessary supplies for the tea.
"If you have to ask that, I can safely assume you haven't spent time anywhere that really counts. Let me guess: the wildest place you have visited were the fields just outside the safety of the city walls?"
"Do sewer tunnels and river banks count in your opinion, pet?" Rhyldan's amused eyes followed the elf woman as she made herself busy with little things around the room.
Aithwen burst into laughter. "By the hells, no they don't! Gods above and below…" She turned to Rhyldan, her unoccupied hand resting at her hip. "I am very curious to know if you are stupid, foolish or just far enough beyond desperate to come running this far into the wilds of Faerun if you have no idea how to survive or what to expect." Blue eyes shifted from amused to calculating as she studied her visitor who had the good sense to appear both embarrassed and chastised by her words.
"Honestly, pet, a bit o'all three." He shrugged and walked over to one of the low chairs that sat around the fire. "Never thought of myself as particularly smart or foolish, spent years just surviving. Then, a chance to run made itself available and I took it. Impressive where true desperation can take you, innit luv?" Rhyldan kept his eyes locked on the fire, finding he didn't want to see the expression on the druidess' face. She's not the only one lowering defenses… A right sodding idiot I am. Can't trust her, can't trust anyone. Not 'til I'm safely tucked away and out of the damn bitch's reach.
Aithwen watched as a look that seemed entirely out of place on the handsome elf's face clouded his eyes. He seemed… disgusted, about something. Then there was the fear that shone deep within his eyes anytime he wasn't actively flirting or joking. Now I'm really getting curious. Who is he running from? She continued preparations for the tea, pouring the now hot water over the dried mix and fetching a pair of sturdy clay cups she had purchased when she lived near Neverwinter while it steeped. She was just pouring the aromatic tea into the cups when a howling wind slammed into the cottage, rattling the door and slamming pieces of forest debris against the walls.
Rhyldan looked at the woman in surprise only to see her scowling at the door in annoyance. "I hate to ask, but… should we be concerned about whatever the hells that was?"
Aithwen sighed and turned to Rhyldan, bringing him a cup of the tea. "It's just Shadestriker throwing his tantrum." Another gust shook the cottage, this one followed by a thunderous roar. Aithwen sighed heavily and plopped down in the chair next to Rhyldan, glaring harshly into her tea. "Fucking lizard is going to scar the forest with this childishness. Damn petty beast..." The druid sounded almost petulant as she complained to her tea.
Rhyldan took a tentative sip of his drink - it was surprisingly soothing; a warm sensation following the liquid and spreading through his cold form. "Those are words I would not have associated with a sodding dragon, pet. Is the beast really that bad?" He asked, truly curious. He had never met a dragon, just heard stories. "By the way, this cuppa is quite impressive. Is it supposed to gimme the warm and tinglies?"
Aithwen glanced over to see Rhyldan taking a slow drink of the tea. "Glad you approve and yes - there is a flower in there that aids in warming. Very handy here, incredible pain to grow, however." She smiled and took a drink of her own tea. "And as to Shadestriker - Crythruxos - he is a great child. Of all the dragons I have interacted with, he is the most like a spoiled brat I have ever encountered." She scowled and looked back at the fire.
"Really? How many dragons have you encountered, pet? I've never had the pleasure."
"Six."
Rhyldan's eyes widened. "Wow…"
"It isn't all that impressive. Three were fairly friendly interactions, three were not." Aithwen continued staring into the fire.
"Still… you fight the three unfriendly ones?" Rhyldan's voice was soft as he asked.
"Yes." Aithwen's voice was just as soft, nearly lost as another gust hit her home. "A young green, an adult blue and… an adolescent white."
Rhyldan studied her face. There was a sense of regret in her words. "I see. So Crythruxos is included in your 'fairly friendly' interactions then?"
Aithwen smiled. "Most days." She looked over to see Rhyldan lounging comfortably in his chair, tea cup at his lips. "The biggest thing about dragons, and chromatic ones specifically, is that they are everybit at intelligent and dangerous as stories say. But with chromatics, there is always a motivation that is less than pure. Some are greedy, some are psychopathic, some just like blood, others want to rule the world. Crythruxos wants to rule the world, but he doesn't have the planning ability of a red or cunning of a black so he gets frustrated easily and he lashes out. Especially when his plans are thwarted or don't go his way." She smiled and looked back at the fire. "Like a child." Her voice was soft again, drawing Rhyldan's attention.
Rhyldan watched her with curiosity. The pain in her eyes was familiar. Something happened with one of those dragons that hurt the bird in a way that was more than physical. "Makes a sorta sense, I suppose. How 'bout the other two? More pleasant encounters?"
Aithwen chuckled. "Only if pleasant can be described as not fighting. The one metallic dragon I met was a headache, spoke in damn riddles. The other's a young gem dragon that I still see from time to time. I keep her whereabouts and wellbeing to myself. One of the many things that Crythuxos chooses to be angry about."
Rhyldan allowed the silence to wrap around them, his curiosity over the woman eating away at his mind. The feeling of overly warm, soft fur tickled the underside of his hand where it rested, surprising him. "What the?" His comfortable position was abandoned in a moment as he looked for whatever had touched him. Seeing nothing, he looked over to the druid.
Aithwen was smiling fondly at a small, oddly colored cat that had settled in her lap. The cat was far smaller than the ones he would see in the alleyways, but far more healthy looking. Its fur was patterned with stripes of red so dark it seemed black. Yellow-orange tufts of longer fur along its ears and two back paws. The cat's eyes looked to be golden orange and the little points of fangs were visible on its lower jaw. Rhyldan watched as Aithwen petted the animal in a long stroke, its back curving as it stretched and leaned into her hand before folding itself down to lay lazily in her lap. The cat gave a large yawn as it found a spot it liked - fire dancing where a pink tongue should be and lighting its throat from within. The cat-creature closed its eyes and the familiar sound of pouring soon reached Rhyldan's pointed ears.
"Hello, Binxy. Did the cranky dragon's tantrum interrupt your nap?" Aithwen's hand scratched at the odd cat's ears, who responded with a chattering noise and covered its nose with a paw. Her hand continued moving through the dark fur. "Rhyldan, meet my cat. Binx."
"Cat? Really?" Rhyldan asked pointedly.
Aithwen chuckled. "Really. He is a cat."
Rhyldan shifted in his chair, leaning forward and giving the druid an incredulous look. "Mhm. Yeah. 'Cause every puss you see has a gob full o'flame."
"They certainly do when they come from the elemental plane of fire." She smiled widely as the cat shifted and curled itself into a tighter ball on her lap.
Rhyldan's eyes widened and he leaned away, feeling a little nervous. "Well… certainly explains that. 'Spose the coloring is typical as well?"
"Mhm. Although he is quite a bit darker than most. His fur was a much brighter hue when he was a kitten. He gets a little darker each year. Probably because it is so cold here and he spends so much time sleeping in the hearth." Aithwen's hand had slowed, her thumb the only part moving slowly between the cat's ears. A small curl of smoke escaped from the curled cat as it heaved a sigh.
Both elves lapsed back into silence. Rhyldan watched Aithwen as she slowly and fondly stroked the cat in her lap. Eventually, she began humming an unfamiliar tune. Surprisingly, the melody served as a perfect distraction from the howling and thumping wind outside.
Rhyldan's stomach growled at him, his hunger and thirst rearing its head again with a vengeance. He flinched, he hadn't felt hunger pains this bad in over a century. Shit. I need blood and soon or I'm gonna lose it.
"Hungry?" Aithwen asked, blue eyes flicking to Rhyldan's tense form.
The male flinched. "Bit peckish, yeah."
"Anything specific you'd like to eat? I'll cook while you take a bath." The druid continued petting her cat, eyes on the small creature.
Damn it all… I need blood, not typical Elven food. Most Elves avoid meat, druids too, so how do I get something bloody enough to curb this hunger without letting on? Racking his blood-starved brain, he recalled an odd pastry made with blood that he sampled from a traveling festival long ago. That may work well enough… "Well, this may sound barmy, but since I haven't really had anything actually… substantial, in quite some time, could you whip up something with, well, how do I explain it without sounding a nutter…" He pretended to pause and think, watching out of the corner of his eye for the druid's reaction. "I don't rightly know what it would be called, at least not in this part of the world, but there's a fried cake made with animal blood that is both heavy in nutrients and easy on the stomach. It's a food more common in small villages or with traveling folk. Are you familiar?" He did his best to seem sheepish for asking a question about what would be considered an incredibly odd food and not let on that he was nervous about her reaction. Please, petal, please take it as a request for comforting food. Nothing suspicious here, luv… please…
Aithwen's brow furrowed in thought. Odd request from a city elf. "Hm. I recall something like that… basically a pancake but with blood instead of milk in the batter? Typically with ale mixed in? Like the black pudding you can find in taverns all across the north? Is that what you mean?" She asked, her eyes questioning.
Rhyldan nodded slowly, searching for any hint of suspicion or disgust. "Yeah, 's that daft?"
Aithwen smiled over at her guest. "Not at all. I used to make them for my adventuring companions years ago when we traveled. It's been a long while since I've made such a thing, but it isn't really all that odd a food in the north. Walk the streets of any town north of Silverymoon and you'll find at least one stall selling something made with blood gathered by a butcher. Waste not, want not and all. May I ask how you are familiar with such foods? It's odd for anyone originating below the High Forest to even know of such items, much less request it." The druid lightly patted the elemental sleeping in her lap, stirring it to wakefulness.
Rhyldan was surprised. He had expected some level of disgust at his request, not curiosity. "You don't find my request barmy? Food containing blood isn't a normal bit o' Elven diet. Nor druid, I would guess."
Aithwen stood as Binx hopped off her lap and stretched in typical feline form. "No, I don't find it 'barmy'," she chuckled. "Well, not much. You'll find I'm not one to assume each person is exactly as racial stereotypes portray. I've known Arakocra who enjoy a well spiced chicken, Dragonborn who will only eat vegetables, Dwarves who are claustrophobic and even a Tabaxi who preferred swimming to walking." She walked over to the wardrobe she had pointed out to Rhyldan earlier. "I'm not exactly your stereotypical druid, either, so an elf on the run wishing to replenish their strength as efficiently as possible isn't high on my list of crazy. I am impressed you came to the conclusion of blood in your food as you are not a seasoned traveler." Turning back around with a thick cloth draped over her arm, she began moving across the room. "Now that I've answered that, you gonna answer my question?"
"Your question?" Rhyldan asked, still feeling somewhat stupefied.
The druid chuckled. "About how you came to know of black pancakes."
"Oh, that." He murmured, his head tilting back as his eyes followed the druid as she approached his chair. "My parents used to take me to a traveling fair that came through every few years. My da and I made a game of trying every food we could find, especially the foods we thought were the strangest." He shrugged and smiled up at the woman. "Ma always thought we were daft."
"Makes sense. Guessing he dared you to try it, you objected, finally gave in and found you liked it?"
"Right you are, pet." Rhyldan relaxed a tiny bit. It didn't seem like the druid would dig further.
"I can handle that. Now come on - I'll show you to the spring so you can bathe while I cook." Aithwen gestured with her head toward the doors behind Rhyldan.
"Smashing." Rhyldan stood gracefully and gave a little bow, waiting for Aithwen to show the way.
The druid walked to the leftmost door and slid the simple portal aside with a finger. "The doors are like those they use in Wa. Constructed of paper, wood and cloth, held in place by a simple sliding mechanism hammered into the stone. Down this corridor are my apprentice's quarters, cold storage, medicine room, pack den, library and the springs."
Rhyldan followed at her elbow. "All that is hidden back here? Impressive." He watched the druid carefully as they began walking down the stone corridor. "Honestly, luv, the more you allow me to discover the less druid-like you seem."
Aithwen laughed heartily. "Compared to the many druids you are familiar with, I suppose?" Blue eyes danced merrily as she looked over at the taller elf.
Rhyldan smiled back, "'course, luv. Heard all the proper gos' back home. Right fount o' knowledge I am."
Shaking her head, Aithwen gestured to the left as the path forked. "Never a lie to be found there, hm?" Rhyldan chuckled in response. "Stay to the left here, wolves and medicine room are to the right."
"Danger that way, got it."
"Nn. Not really danger, but definite pain if you aren't careful. There are plenty of plants in the medicine room that could make for a very unpleasant night and while the wolves won't eat you on sight, the winter wolf pair will likely do their best to terrify you for their own amusement."
Rhyldan's eyebrows rose. "Interesting pack you got yerself."
"That's one way to put it. Don't worry. They'll leave you be." The corridor ceiling lowered slightly, forcing both elves to slow down and duck their heads as they walked. The path began to slope downward, the scent of minerals becoming stronger as the stone passage widened around them. A faint glow began to emanate from the widening walls, bathing the stone in pale blue-green light. Aithwen continued through the long, oval shaped section, completely ignoring the glow and two branching tunnels to stand near a third before turning to face a stationary Rhyldan. "Surprised?" She asked.
"One way o' putting it, pet." Crimson eyes appeared purple in the soft light as they took in the phosphorescent mosses, mushrooms and ferns growing in tiered alcoves around the long room.
"Underdark flora. Completely harmless, little to no value aside from the fact that they are lovely. The phosphorescence is a bonus." Aithwen reached out to rub a glowing frond between her fingers. Rhyldan found his eyes drifting to gaze at the druidess as she stood in the pale light, her eyes dark and glittering like sapphires. "The passage with the sweetpods - the red ones on your left - leads to the library, the one lined in cave moss - the blueish green moss giving off the lovely light - will take you to the cold storage rooms and the passage behind me with the ghost wheat will take you to the springs. There is a little waterfall to help you rinse yourself if you'd prefer and a cabinet with different soaps, oils and so forth you can feel free to use as well. When you are ready to return, the passage behind you with the little twisting reeds next to it will take you back to the main room. Think you can manage?" The druidess' head tilted to the side with her question.
Rhyldan took a slow turn to look at the plants she had pointed out. Red pods, blue moss, twisty leaf and white wheat. Got it. "I think I've got it." He said with a gentle smile that morphed into a smirk. "Unless you feel like joining in, pet, jus' to be sure I make it back safe." He winked suggestively and chuckled as Aithwen rolled her eyes and shook her head in response.
"Here's a towel for you. Don't have too much fun." The druid put the folded cloth into Rhyldan's chest as he took stalking steps forward into her space. With a smile and a pat she let go of the cloth and stepped around the larger elf, walking off the direction of the cold storage room without looking back.
Rhyldan chuckled to himself, she was certainly something else.