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Archives: Trials of the Half-Elven

Chapter 3: Camp on the Road

    Olula and her companions tried to put as much distance between them and Vedun as possible before dusk. Olula was worried that Darvis may send someone to kill them, but it seemed that the threat from the Lord was passed once they left Vedun.

    As the sun began to sink in to west, at least an hour before sunset, they found a suitable campsite off the road and quickly began to set it up so Derrick and Krisatris could be cared for. Olula was busy, setting up beds for the wounded, making sure they were comfortable while their medicines were prepared, and bringing out cooking utensils. She was used to working quickly at this time of day, it was comforting to have so much to do.

    Thangroth said little during the entire trek to the campsite, as he was a dwarf there was little more to say. Olula was banished, and that was that. What was needed now was focusing on their wounded, the dwarf helped with clearing the site, setting up beds and the preparation of a fire break for the evening fire. The dwarf doubted they’d have enough time to hunt for game as they’d traveled a good distance from the town. It would be a cold camp at least dinner wise. The dwarf went about getting beef jerky, trail cakes and what bit of provisions he could. The injured would be the ones to eat first and more likely the most as they needed the food more to heal. The dwarf spared a few glances to Olula but was too busy working to stop for chatting. He’d begin her combat training on the morrow if she was up to it. The sooner she learned to fight the better.

    Trent quietly hunched the camp fire, content to be in his natural element once more. The wounded had been cared for as far as first aid went, now only time would tell if they healed properly. Until then Trent could make them more comfortable with an anesthetic made from fire root. The young ranger had pushed the limits of his herbology knowledge but was almost positive it wouldn’t make anyone go blind.

    When the root was done simmering Trent placed the water in two bowls and set it in front of Kris and Derrick. “Don’t drink it,” he warned “Just breath in the vapors, it’ll ease your pain and help you sleep. It’s a very mild hallucinogen so you might get some vivid dreams.”

    Kris was laying down on her stomach. She coughed a bit. That horse ride had been a bit of pain, but since they were resting it was alright now. Trent had came up and gave her and Derrick their medicine to help them with their wounds and made sure they were comfortable. Kris couldn’t sleep however, she decided to stay awake for awhile before drifting to sleep, though she was tired from her wounds, she just didn’t won’t to close her eyes just yet. “Thank you,” she said to Trent.

    Thangroth sat near his bedroll silent and a bit sullen. Or so it would seem to any other. The dwarf had been busy working on something, something after they’d gotten the camp settled. A rough and quick carving he’d embarked upon since they’d gotten the camp settled and the wounded tended to. He was no where near as good a wood carver as his father, metal, forging and the fire were his mediums. The dwarf looked over at Olula and grunted as he continued to work. It was his way, but he hoped his simple gift would bring some light to the darkness which had surrounded her heart. Thangroth was more than an approachable dwarf, but still he was a dwarf. Sudden displays of affection and tears were not his way. But, this was more a gesture of compassion and feeling than many dwarves would effect.

    After a few more minutes of carving and smoothing the wooden object out with a bit of hard leather from his tools he grunted and rose stepping over to the half dark elf and spoke, “Child, I’ll begin teaching ye the way of combat on the morrow. Ye’ve had a hard time, take this to lighten ye sorrows. A gift for ye.” With that the dwarf held out an ornately carved bracelet. The designs were as intricate as he could manage. But, it was the thought that mattered.

    Olula had paused in her work while Derrick and Krisatris breathed in Trent’s treatment when Thangroth gave her his gift. Olula took the bracelet and smiled warmly, slipping it onto her slim wrist. “Thank you,” she said, examining it. She said nothing in response to his offer to train her in combat skills, she still considered it in her mind.

    Olula returned her attention to the wounded, looking at the gouges in their backs. She had little medical knowledge, besides common sense, but she wanted to help them heal some how. “Trent, should we stitch some of these wounds closed?” she asked the ranger.

    Kris was taking in the vapors to help her and it did. She knew her wounds would need cleaning and be closed before they got infected. She felt very uncomfortable and was hurting all over. She sighed a very hurting sounding sigh. She was reflecting the past events too but yet her mind was too much on her pain to really go to far.

    “Not if they’re shallow enough,” Trent replied “If the whip didn’t bite in too deep then we can get away with just binding the wounds. But I’m not much of a tailor, it takes a steady hand and a very light touch if you want any hope of reducing the scarring.”

    Trent looked down on his rough and calloused hands, especially the fingertips of his main hand which had hardened from drawing back a heavy bowstring thousands of times. But Olula’s hands were soft and delicate by comparison, they showed signs of hard work but it still seemed she would be the best one for the job.

    “Ever sewn a garment before?” he asked Olula.

    “I make most of my clothes,” Olula replied to Trent. “Are they too deep?” She asked. She had never had to deal with much first aid. The lashes looked rather deep to her in the center of their shoulders where the whips hit the most.

    Derrick felt dizzy from the vapors. The vapors did help his wounds but they were making him see things. He saw a statue of himself standing in the center of his hometown where an elderly man was telling the adventures that Derrick had to both children and adults. Is this a vision or am I just seeing things? Derrick then said to Kris, “This is my fault. If I hadn’t opened my mouth, none of this would have happened.” The young human swordsman was still blaming himself for the past events.

    Kris waved a hand. “It’s alright,” she said, dizzily. “It’s not your fault.” She sighed. “We should just get over it, it’s done and over with.”

    Derrick smiled at Kris and said, “You’re right. Better to just move on I guess.”

    Kris smiled at Derrick. “Yep,” she replied simply. She watched as Trent was getting ready to close up their wounds, and she sighed.

    Trent dug into his pack and fetched a needle and some thread. They weren’t meant for surgery but they would do the job. By Marfa I hope I’m not doing more harm than good. The boy had never sewn a wound before but had been hurt enough to have seen it done. “I’ll talk you through it, it’s just like sewing a torn shirt.” he said to Olula.

    Olula took the needle and threaded it, ready to start stitching up the deepest of Krisatris’s wounds as if they were just a torn blouse. However, once she looked at the wounds, she lost her confidence and blanched as much as her dark skin would allow. The thought of sewing through flesh became quite real and unappealing.

    With a gulp, she nodded to Trent. Hesitantly, she reached toward Kris’s wounds and started working out a technique in her head while she waited for further instructions from Trent.

    For the most part Thangroth remained silent, having helped with the injured and the set-up of camp. He would never admit it, but he was actually a bit weary, the red-haired dwarf also glanced around as he hefted his hammer and moved towards the perimeter of their little camp. Turning back towards his companions he spoke in as pleasant a tone he could manage and gave them even a little wink, “The night will need watching, I’ll take first watch. Everyone get as much rest as possible. ’tis sure to be a long day on the morrow.” With that said the dwarf stepped over to the most accessible tree, leaned against it and went stone faced as he waited.

    Thangroth listened and watched the scene while keeping an eye on their surroundings. The girl would have to get used to a great many things, blood, hunger, hard conditions, and even the taking of a life, when necessary. The red headed dwarf didn’t expect her to take to everything all at once, it would require baby steps to deal with the long road life had ahead of her. Had anyone been watching his face, and had his face been expressive, they might have caught the slightest tear in the dwarf’s eyes. But, as with many dwarves there was nothing but stone resolve on Thangroth’s face. Crying was something for children, not him.

* * *

    Olula pushed the needle through Krisatris’s flesh below her last stitch, which pulled the skin together. Seeing the needle and thread pass through Kris’s flesh was taking it’s toll on Olula as she grew increasingly pale. She could feel her gorge rising, and though she tried to suppress the sensation, it was no use.

    Olula dropped her needle, scrambled to her feet and dashed off to the perimeter of the camp to retch. Trent closely watched as Olula bound the wounds, occasionally stopping to apply more firewater which served also as a mild local anesthetic. As far as he could tell she was doing a good job, though the emotional tax was clearly beginning to burden her.

    Sure enough, the barmaid dropped what she was doing to go off and lose her stomach. Trent couldn’t criticize, he had done the same thing when he had witnessed the wounds being made, but more from seeing human cruelty for the first time. The youth picked up where Olula left off, he only needed to finish the last stitch and nip the thread.

* * *

    As night began to fall, Kiran could travel freely. Very few people traveled at night, and the dark elf didn’t have to concern himself with terrified merchants and pilgrims thinking that he was some malicious dark elf bandit. While he could summon invisibility spirits to cloak himself, it was mentally exhausting to hold control over the spirits.

    As he walked, he heard what sounded like someone vomiting. He paused, staring into the woods in the direction the sound came. There was a glow of a camp fire in the woods, but Kiran couldn’t see much else. His conscience told him to check on who ever was throwing up, but his common sense protested, fearing that the campers would attack or flee from him. After a moment of consideration, Kiran decided cautiously investigate.

    Holding his fingers in front of his nose in a meditative pose, he murmured into the wind. “Spirits of invisibility, let thy form become my own.” The spirits responded and Kiran disappeared.

    The dark elf silently stalked into the woods towards the fire, coming close enough to investigate the group. There was a dwarf, a human man, and two individuals laying on their stomachs, shirt-less and with long wounds cut into their backs. However, it was the woman bent over into the bushes that gave him confidence. She was dressed like a barmaid and had dark hair, but he saw her long, dark ears. She was obviously a half-elf, and most likely half-dark elf. He knew many half-dark elves resented their fae parentage, but if this group could accept her, perhaps they’d be open to letting him help.

    “Spirits, disperse,” Kiran whispered and his cloak of invisibility slipped away. He stepped up to the half-elf and asked, “Are you alright, my dear?”

    As Olula finished emptying her stomach, a pair of unfamiliar feet stepped into her view and a man spoke. The half-elf stood suddenly, drawing her arm across her mouth, and met the eyes of the stranger. As she noticed his dark, scarred face, light hair, and long ears, she gave a shriek and stumbled backwards.

    Kiran’s face fell at her reaction, and his eyes darted between her companions to gage their reaction. “I mean no harm, I just want to help,” Kiran said to the group. Unfortunately, he seemed to have found one of those half-elves who had been traumatized by dark elves.

    “Don’t pick at them.” he warned Kris as he got up to check on Olula, he had hoped she didn’t run far. Just then he heard her scream very nearby, Trent spun around to see a dark stranger standing in front of Olula. He would have liked to think he would have heard someone approaching the camp, apparently not.

    The boy looked towards his bow resting on the other side of the camp fire several yards away. With nothing more than his hinting knife Trent tried a diplomatic approach and stepped closer to the stranger, only to realize that it was a real full blooded dark elf. Suddenly Trent wished he was better armed.

    “Who are you?” he asked, and then, to test the stranger he continued in elvish, {“What do you want?”}

    Kiran was surprised to hear a human speaking elvish, but he figured it was best to speak the common tongue for the rest of his companions. “I’m just passing through, I mean no harm,” Kiran replied, trying to put the young man at ease with a soft and almost meek tone to his voice. “My name is Kiran.”

    One moment no one was there then there was an elf in the camp, further more, he was someone Thangroth didn’t know or had seen since they’d left the town. The dwarf moved fast for one of his squat stature and muscled bulk hefting his hammer as he stepped quickly over to Olula. The dwarf didn’t attack but he did interpose himself between the stranger and the girl and spoke in a firm calm voice, “Who be ye? And if ye wish to share our campfire..tis best not to ensorcle your way into a body’s camp and spook people.” He hated sorcery, or magic, whatever you called it, spirits, wizardry or the like. He hated it it was too unpredictable, too uncontrollable. He liked his beliefs things that he knew and could see and touch solid.

    “Kiran,” he repeated his name loudly, since the dwarf didn’t seem to hear it the first time. “I just heard this young lady retching, all I wanted was to make certain she was well,” he explained. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, we elves are rather at home in the forest, I’m just used to walking quietly.” Kiran lied, he didn’t want to upset them further by saying that he snuck up on them with an invisibility spell.

    Well done Trent, you’ve confirmed that an elf can speak elvish and gave up any advantage of him not knowing that you do as well. Being still a stranger to the group himself, Trent didn’t want to speak for everyone and decided to leave diplomacy to Thangroth, who seemed to be the unofficial leader of the rabble. Yet there were questions that still tugged at his mind, questions he wanted to ask more from curiosity than interrogation. After all, how often do you meet a dark elf, much less two in one day? “Are you a local or from elsewhere?” Of course, by elsewhere he meant Marmo, the inspiration for dozens of stories he had heard both terrifying and strange.

    Kiran didn’t want to tell him he was from Marmo, but then, it was little more than a birthplace to him. He wasn’t exactly welcome in his clan’s land, nor in human or light elven societies. He had no place to call home at the moment. “I’m just a wanderer,” Kiran replied. “I swear, I mean no harm, I just wanted to check on this poor girl. I see you have wounded. I’m no healer, but I would like to offer my help.” He had little knowledge of medicine, but he was intrigued by the half-dark elf. She was terrified of him, and he wanted to show her that not all dark elves were like the soldiers. There was much he could teach her.

    Olula rose to her feet and stood behind Trent, peeking over his shoulder at Kiran. She didn’t trust the dark elf, though so far, he had done nothing but try and prove his intentions were innocent. She had never seen a dark elf act like he did, all the ones she had met were more concerned with appearing aloof and powerful. Despite his strange behavior, she didn’t trust him, and she would leave the choice of what to do with him up to Thangroth and Trent.

    Thangroth grunted slightly at the dark elf’s explanation, he rather suspected the fellow’s sudden appearance to be more than skill. Perhaps a bit of sorcery had been involved as well. But, he had no proof of such and even if he had, he had no wish to start an argument. The dwarf stepped over to the fire and gave Kiran a calm, but stern look. “Well that’s as good an explanation as any I suppose. Ye are welcome to share our cook fire. As for the girl, tis her decision if she wishes yer help. If she doesn’t then ye’ll of course understand. The girl has been through a bit and needs no sudden shocks.”

    Kiran looked hopefully at Olula for her approval. He could see her frown over the young man’s shoulder. She turned away, and replied to Thangroth. “Fine,” she said.

    Kiran let out a breath of relief. She wasn’t happy, but she allowed him to stay. “Well, you all know who I am. What are your names?”

    As Olula hid behind his shoulder, Trent tried to puff out his chest and look daunting. No easy task for him, though he was slightly taller than most humans his age, Trent’s haggard clothes and boyish face didn’t give him the rugged, leather skin appearance he would have wanted. Instead he looked scruffy, almost pathetic; someone only the meekest of creatures would shy away from. It was true that he could hit an apple from thirty yards provided there was little wind, but one could hardly tell that by looking at him.

    Olula then gave the stranger permission to stay, were he to be entirely honest Trent would admit he was glad to learn more about the dark elf, to see how he compared to Mirror Forest elves.

    “My name is Trent Delumbra,” he said. “Ranger from Valis.”

    “Ah, good to meet you, Trent,” Kiran replied and reached out to shake Trent’s hand in a very human gesture. “Where did you learn to speak elvish?”

    As with all dwarves, Thangroth could sometimes be a fountain of grumbles and said nothing to Kiran and sat down by the fire staring into it for a moment. The red haired dwarf glanced over in the direction where Trent was being treated giving a slight nod, the boy would be alright and that was good. While he never would’ve admitted it, it was good Olula had another elf to speak to. He was a dwarf and while he could teach her things of the road and combat, there were differences between elves and dwarves. Elves were of the air, light and the forests. Thangroth’s heart was ever of the mountains and stone as with all dwarves. It was an age old difference, and he was damned glad he didn’t have long ears. A picture formed in his mind as he saw himself or one of his brothers with long ears looking absolutely ridiculous. The image caused the young dwarf to burst out laughing, an uncommon thing for a dwarf, which quickly ended as Thangroth wiped his eyes smiling and stood hefting his hammer once more. “My apologies, the gods blessed me with a rather funny image. I got to take watch once again. If you need me, merely call.”

    Trent shook Kiran’s hand, his curiosity now fully outweighing his fear. “I grew up in a small settlement near Mirror Forest, elves and humans have good relations there. One of the elven families agreed to tutor me and learning their language was part of that arrangement.”

    Kiran was distracted by the dwarf’s laugh for a moment, but he returned his attention to Trent. “Well, that’s interesting. I too have lived in a place where humans and elves co-exist. The Raiden Woods, quite a few dark elves live there, outcasts of Marmo, mostly.”

    As Kiran and Trent spoke, Olula slipped away and returned to her work on Derrick’s wounds. Kiran’s gaze followed the half-elf and fell on the wounded. “What happened to them?” he asked Trent.

    “Lashed on the orders of a man named Darvis. I don’t know the details, you’d have to ask one of the others, but my instincts told me that it was the act of fear more than justice.” Trent then lightly jerked his head over to Olula to indicate the source of that fear, not wanting to verbalize it in front of her as he knew she must have felt guilty enough.

    Kiran understood what Trent didn’t want to say. Olula’s race was an issue. He understood that well, if not from his own experience, but from what he knew of half-dark elves. He could even have a half-blood child or two of his own. The only offspring he knew of was the child Nehen had been pregnant with, but he had plenty of other opportunities through his life to father other children.

    “I know, it’s tough on them,” he spoke softly. The dark elf turned away from Trent and silently walked to Olula and the unconscious wounded.

    Kiran crouched beside Krisatris’s prone form and looked at Olula. The half-elf refused to meet his gaze and focused intently on her work. “Do you need any help?” Kiran asked.

    “I’m fine,” Olula replied sharply as she pushed the needle through Derrick’s skin.

    Kiran was tempted to back away, but he wanted to make a connection with the girl. He wanted her to know he meant no harm. “I mean you no ill will, I hope you don’t wish it on me,” Kiran said.

    Olula didn’t respond. She paused in her sewing for a moment, and she realized that she had no reason to hate him yet. However, she didn’t change her cold demeanor. She continued on Derrick’s wound. Perhaps he wasn’t like all the other dark elves. She wasn’t too often guilty of the sin of pride, but to acknowledge his comment with the truth of how she felt was a sting to her pride.

    “No,” she responded, however. And her voice was just a little softer. After a moment of silence between them, and Kiran just crouching there, across the two bodies, Olula spoke again, “What do you want?”

    Kiran seemed to consider the question, as it took the dark elf a moment to respond. “To make amends for anything that you have suffered at the hands of my kind,” he replied. “I’ll settle for your name, at least.”

    Olula bit her lip and finished stitching Derrick’s gash. She pulled the thread tight, then used her knife to cut the thread. “Olula,” she paused and replied, then tied the thread close to Derrick’s skin. She looked up at Kiran and fixed him with a stern, blue-gray gaze. “What makes you so different? Why aren’t you treating me like the dark elves from the war did?”

    “Well, for one thing, I didn’t fight in the war,” Kiran replied with a smirk. Olula wasn’t amused, and Kiran’s smirk fell as he realized that. “I can’t explain why they treated you the way you did in a way to comfort you, but take comfort in the fact that I am not them,” Kiran replied.

    Olula had a good feeling about Kiran, but she didn’t speak it. She remained cold and distant as she finished her work on Derrick’s wounds.

    Kiran sighed and stood. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work, perhaps we can speak more tomorrow. I’d like to teach you about your heritage.” Olula raised her head to watch him walk away. The dark elf didn’t sit near the fire, instead he hopped into a nearby tree, and found a seat on a sturdy branch. Olula found it odd, but elves were forest spirits, after all.

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