[Redacted]: Stolen Heart

[Eira]

“It was a gift from someone close to me before they passed.”

~~~~~

156 AR

“Do not worry, my heart,” the dying elf rasped out, face twisting and a painful cough marring the previous serenity of his features. “I am not frightened.”

“But I am,” came the answering murmur. “Nai’tae, I am very frightened.”

“You are an idiot, my heart.” Nai’tae forced a smile to his bloodstained lips. “I- I cannot move my hand. Can you lift it?”

Sehimil swallowed whatever other words he would have said. A shaking hand lowered to grasp his love’s own, raising it up between them.

“Giving rings is a tradition of humans-” the words were cut off by another hacking cough, Nai’tae’s grip tightening marginally. “But,” he soldiers on, “I wish you to take mine.”

“I don’t understand.”

The ring itself was oddly free of blood, the pale blue gem inset within the silver glittering with the light of the moon. Nai’tae’s thumb twitched, a feeble effort to twist the trinket off his finger before his hand stilled once more. A difficult breath in, and Sehimil gently pulled the ring loose, letting it rest in his own palm.

“Take it, my heart.”

“I don’t-”

“Do not resist this; you know how to use it. And it will give you some sanctuary from the world you hate.”

“I hate the world without you.”

Sehimil’s final words were soft, delivered to a vacant gaze and lips parted after their last struggling breath.

A low pained cry and the wild elf collapsed over the corpse, clutching the limp hand to his face. Whatever he whispered or cried was lost in the folds of his cloak and choking of his voice as he wrapped his arms around Nai’tae’s shoulders to half-drag the other elf to his lap.

“Hrgh,” he whimpered and sobbed, rocking the body slowly as if somehow, holding it tightly enough would bring the other elf back. “M-my heart- no, no, no… Please- Father, help- I have done everyth-th-th-”

His words once more dissolved into the meaningless sobbing babble

[Eira]

156 AR

“All humans do is destroy everything around them!”

Sehimil paced back and forth between the ruined logs and stumps littering the once-proud stretch of forest. His boots dug into the muck- and stuck, trapping him there for one long irritating moment as he attempted to work himself free. With a huff, he gave up, settling on a stump and resting his face in his hands.

“I hate them so much,” he groaned. “How do we get them to stop?”

“Perhaps… ask them?”

Sehimil glanced up sharply at the familiar lilting voice; the words delivered in the mesh of the human tradetongue rather than the usual singing speech of their people. Nai’tae stood next to him, the moon elf’s lips curved up faintly in the humoring way they usually did.

“What?” Sehimil replied in elven, stubbornly refusing to join in the tradetongue.

A faint sigh, and Nai’tae likewise returned to elven as he settled down on the stump next to Sehimil. “Move over, my heart.”

The wild elf snorted, but shuffled over on the stump, managing despite the grip of mud on his boots.

“You come here every tenday to further bemoan the humans and the logging, and have you yet tried speaking to them?”

“No. Of course not.” Sehimil’s jaw set, and he looked away from his love. “They cannot even speak properly.”

“Neither can you, by their standards.”

“I don’t need to. Their languages are messy and I hate them.”

“Ge eeeae dooga g’da lootsaeoosam Oo m’baob.” The moon elf’s voice turned guttural as he hacked out the demonic words, a brief contrast from his earlier soft tone.

“That’s different, my heart.” He sighed, dark green gaze sliding back to rest on Nai’tae. “You needed to learn for your research. For the war.”

“And when I leave on my research?”

“You can speak for the both of us- I don’t need to speak well, I’m bad at it anyway. Even in our tongue.”

“Practice, my heart. Practice, practice. You try so many new things, every day, every tenday, why not this?”

“I do not need to,” Sehimil’s words spit out, petulant and stubborn. “Humans are almost as bad as dhaerrow.”

“They are not.”

“Hmph.” He crossed his arms and idly wiggled his boot in the mud once more.

Nai’tae’s eyes closed for a long moment as the two sat there in silence, surrounded by the fallen trees and the gentle rustle and chitters of hidden animals. Time passed, as it does, the two content to merely exist alongside each other- until the dreary moan of a hunting horn sounded through the forest.

Instantly, Sehimil was alert, straightening and glancing around.

“War continues this night,” Nai’tae breathed out.

The wild elf reached down, digging his hands into the mud to finally free himself before rising up and stepping away from the stump. He made a vague effort to wipe his hands off on his bare chest before he drew rapier and dagger from their rest at his sides.

“As it always does,” Sehimil rasped before clearing his throat. “I’ll trust you will stay from the battle this time?”

“I can still heal, my heart.”

“You should not- the dhaerrow will be dead before any are harmed enough to need your talents.”

“I would be at your side.”

Hard gaze softened as Sehimil looked upon the moon elf, so earnest. “And I-” he sighed. “And I will not stop you.”

Nai’tae lightly stepped over to him, reaching up to press their foreheads together, eyes locked before they broke away. “The horn came from the east.”

“Mn,” Sehimil said by way of answer, moving swiftly off in a direction.

“My heart,” the moon elf’s soft voice stopped him.

“Yes?”

“East is the other way.”

His eyes closed. “I was… testing you. To ensure that you have memorized the forest.”

“Of course you were, my heart.”

“Hmph.”

[Eira]

153 AR

“Regardless of how in control he thinks he is, at the end of the day, it is still wild magic.”

“In the hands of a human no less.”

“He has used it to fight the dhaerrow.”

“But with no harm to others?”

“Minimal if we are warned.”

“Warnings should not be needed; it is dangerous and reckless.”

“He is human- that alone is enough for us to distrust him.”

“Is that more important than the war?”

“Nothing is more important than the war-”

“Is giving a chance so foreign to you?”

Nai’tae halted at the edge of the circle, his voice raised over the jumble of disagreements. His forehead shone with the exertion of his run, the moon elf’s paleness so distinct in the gathering of tawny faces and dark eyes.

Rising from his crouch across the fire, Sehimil took a quick step forward before his eyes flicked around to take in the expressions of the others. Some dubious. Others angry. One relieved, though why she would be so at an interruption, he could not tell.

“He has not harmed you; any of you. Even on accident,” Nai’tae continued, seizing the moment. “And he came here- specifically to you -to help you fight the dhaerrow.”

“That he knew where to find us is problem in that of itself.” The scratchy voice belonged to one elder, a woman with more tattoo than bare skin. “A seer is useful; but seers often turn their abilities on their allies as much as they do their enemies.”

“And what do you have to hide?”

Reluctant silence at that, eleven sets of eyes fixated upon Nai’tae. The moon elf let out a deep sigh, lifting a hand to rub at his face.

“You know me; you trust me,” he lifted his hands, palms up. “I can vouch for him.”

“As can I,” another said, the young one with the relief in her eyes. “We can ensure he harms none but our foes.”

A brief round of mutters before the circle nodded their agreement.

“Be on it your responsibility for his conduct.”

~~~~~

The door of the little hut slammed shut, sending the frame of the entire ramshackle building quivering. Sehimil stalked across the single room in a few short strides to yank his belt and sheathed blades from a peg on the wall.

Behind him, quieter, the door opened and closed. Nai’tae watched Sehimil carefully, knowing the wild elf too well to move any closer.

Sehimil strapped the belt around his waist with jerky fumbling movements before he whirled with lips twisted in a scowl. “Why did you do that?” he demanded.

“Giving someone a chance?”

“He despises you. He would see you dead before he would see dhaerrow dead- that alone warrants his death.”

“I would not kill someone on a simple matter of faith-”

“And he would. I would. He dies.”

“My heart,” Nai’tae’s voice sharpened. “No.”

His lips part, teeth grit together in a snarl. “He would kill you.”

“Do you really believe so little of my own abilities?”

Sehimil only lets out a low grunt, turning away to sit heavily on the bed.

“He hates me,” Nai’tae says softly, “because he does not understand why I do what I do. With time comes understanding.”

“The others would not understand either.”

“You did.”

“What if he tells them?”

“They would not believe him.”

“What if he tries to kill you?”

“A chance, my heart. That is all I ask.”

Sehimil let out a long breath, his expression sagging. “…A chance. But if he hurts you, he will die.”

“You have been so troubled recently, my heart.”

Dark eyes close, Sehimil’s head hanging. “There has not been much light to reflect on. I- feel so angry all the time. And worried.”

“When was the last time you made an offering?”

“The same time I last laughed freely.”

“The light shall reach us once more, my heart. I swear it.”

“I know.”

[Eira]

151 AR

“Good news, my heart!”

Sehimil’s head jerked up from where he had slumped over a table in a dreaming daze and the he blinked owlishly before turning about to regard Nai’tae. The moon elf stood in the doorway, hands on either side of the frame and a wide grin plastered across his face.

“And what news is that?” A smile touches his lips, dark gaze trailing over his mate in a once-over. “Did you run far?”

Despite his cheer, Nai’tae was breathing heavily, his normally pale face tinged with a blush of exertion. Black hair clung to a sweaty forehead, though he moved a hand to swipe at it.

“Yes- but it was worth it,” he stepped further into the hut and let the door swing shut behind him. “There are scouts! A new war band has made camp in the caves west. Many more than previously.”

Sehimil’s smile faded. “My heart, are you addled? That is not good news.”

“For some, no. But there are nobles among these ones; wizards and priestesses!”

“That is still not good- and how do you know all this? Don’t tell me you went alone to watch…”

Nai’tae waved a hand. “You know I have my methods. I cannot tell the others of this- you must go out and scout and find this out to make a report.”

“I still fail to see the good parts.”

“You are so dense, my heart. Nobles bring riches even to war, arcanists with their magical items and books, and surely the Chameleon might smile upon one bringing all sorts of mischief to the camps of our enemies, no?”

Sehimil’s eyes closed briefly. “What is it you saw they have that you wish?”

“Nothing-“ Nai’tae started, but faint guilt slid across his features. “Well. There is book on tan’aari. I observed one of their wizards studying it; a male missing an ear and with gold rings on his left hand.”

“For your research.”

“For my research.”

“Will you summon more?”

“If I need to… but there is a possibility that when they try to call upon- I could break the binding circles before any demons have a chance to even touch the forest.”

“You would set them on the dhaerrow? And what then? They turn on us?”

“Not if a better deal is made, no?”

“What do you-” but Sehimil halted with a shake of the head. “I will not dwell on it further, my heart. I trust you.”

“You can get me the book?”

“I will scout with Jylla and we shall see the risks of making our way into their camp. You must be patient.”

“The dhaerrow will not linger for long before making their move. They believe they are hidden from us.”

Sehimil rose from the stool. A few steps forth and he was close enough to reach for Nai’tae, gently pressing their foreheads together. “They will not overtake us,” he breathed out. “Patience, my heart. Patience.”

The pair stood there for long moments more before Sehimil broke away and disappeared out the door.