Author: Tim Knight
Title: Resolutions
Copyright: December 2001
Rating: PG-13 to R (language, descriptions of horrific acts)
Spoilers:
Buffy: Season 2 until Phases.
Highlander: Season 5 until Season finale. Richie Ryan lives.
Keywords: Buffy/ Highlander/ Forgotten Realms.
Summary: On her first New
Year's Eve in Sunnydale, Shaw Hunter reflects on where she's been and where she's going. In
doing so, she ponders the friendships she left behind on her homeworld when she decided once and for all to stay on Earth.
Legalese: All characters except those noted below with their respective rights, properties, and copyrights
are the property of the respective creators, authors, owners, producers and agencies. These
characters are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended or meant, and
no money will be made from this story. This story may be copied in its entirety, and may be distributed as long as all copyright
information remains.
The characters
Shaw Hunter, Ulric Johansen, Brenna, Aeurulieth Redstar, Llednas Amarillis, Qualeck Windrunner, Dargen Axeheart, Soryen Harmosk,
Ashallia Nyserrion, Dyarn, and Yulin are mine. Anyone wishing to use them may contact me at
doobytim@aol.com.
The characters
Steven St. Wolf, Marc La Chevalier, Charlie, Randi Jessup, and Brian Jessup are property of Steve Pantovich, as is the universe in
which this story takes place. Steve can be contacted at steve711@concentric.net.
The character of
Robin Goodfellow is property of Mike Weyer. Mike may be contacted at SWERJ321@aol.com.
Author's
Notes: This majority of this story takes place in two timeframes. The first is on New Year's Eve, 1998, just after How The Big Bad Stole Christmas.
The second is in September of 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning for you Forgotten Realms buffs), covering a time immediately
following and up to two weeks after the flashback in Part 12 of Hunter In Dark.
Johansen/Hunter Residence
Sunnydale, California
31 December 1998
Ulric picked up the ringing phone and kindly answered, "Hello. This is Father Johansen. Can I help you?"
"Hello, Ulric," Amy's voice rang over the connection. "I just called to talk to Shaw. Is she home?"
"Yes, Amy," the priest answered with a smile. <It does my heart good to know they are growing closer.> "I shall get her for you."
"Thanks," the teenager piped in before going on. "Ulric, we're throwing a New Year's Eve party at Steve's tonight. You know you're invited, right?"
"Shaw told me, yes," he said gently, "but I thought I might sit at home and relax. I, for one, do not look proper with a lamp shade on my head."
It took several seconds for Amy to recover enough to say, "Okay, I promise never to bring Robin over to your place again."
Ulric chuckled. "I have been known to have a dry wit on occasion, Amy," he said with a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "I shall get Shaw for you."
The cleric set the phone down and walked over to Shaw's room. He gently rapped on the door and said, "Shaw, Amy is on the phone. Do you wish to take the call?"
"One moment," came the muffled response.
He nodded. "I shall let her know you're coming."
"Thank you," Shaw called through the doorway. With a sigh, she turned back to the mirror on her dresser and looked at the wild mass of black curls she called her hair. <It takes forever to comb out without interruptions, and now Amy calls. Great. >
The elven fighter tiredly grabbed a red scrunchy off of her dresser and went through the process of pulling her hair into a ponytail. As was the norm, she had a long lock on either side of her face that refused to follow her wishes. The twin bunches twirled around like corkscrews, coming even with the corners of her eyes. Giving up the fight for the moment, she exited her room to answer her call.
Ulric gave her a kind smile as she picked up the phone and silently mouthed, "Thank you." To give the young woman some privacy, he left the living room for the back room that served as a den.
Shaw put the phone to her head and said, "Good morning, Amy."
"Hey, Hunter," her cousin said, sounding cheerful. "Just calling to make sure you're going to the party tonight."
Shaw smiled tightly. "I would not miss it," she promised. "As I told you months ago, celebrating the New Year is one holiday we have in common."
"Right," came the response.
Shaw picked up the tenseness in the word. She knew why Amy had really called; having had the vacation with their family cut short by the unexpected appearance (and subsequent souling) of Spike and Drusilla, Amy had noticed the half-elf acting, as she put it, "down in the dumps" because she'd been forced to put Drusilla's soul back into her body and return home from her first family gathering barely halfway into said vacation. While still bothered a bit by the first matter, the second had been put to rest.
"Amy," she began with a soft voice, "I am all right. But I am glad you called. What can I do for you?"
"Well, you've been a bit mopey the last couple of days," the Slayerette offered, sounding kind, "and I thought I'd check up on you, see if you were okay."
Shaw was touched by the concern, especially after how abrupt she'd been with Amy after they had returned to Eleanor's house with the unconscious Dru, because of how she'd felt cheated out of bonding with Amy's Grandmother and the rest of her cousins.
"Thank you," the ranger said gratefully, absently toying with the phone cord. "I am sorry about being angry last week."
"In the past," Amy said, while Shaw could hear the relief in her voice. The senior Scooby changed the subject. "So, did you decide what to wear tonight?"
Shaw stiffened. "Do you promise not to make fun of me?"
"Why?" the puzzled response echoed.
"Amy. . ."
"I promise," Amy said with a touch of humor. "Spill it, cuz."
Wondering why she was revealing this ahead of time, not to mention why she'd decided to be so daring (in her opinion), the junior told Amy, "Do you remember the long-sleeved shirt with the cut sleeves and the leather skirt you and Cordelia bought me for Christmas?"
"WHAT?!?" the witch blurted out over the line. "Who are you and what have you done with my half-elven Rennie cousin?!?"
"I have replaced her with a pod person," came the deadpan response. Shaw had to fight a smirk. "Before you ask, blame Xander."
"Ha, ha, ha!" snapped the Madison girl. "I thought you'd die before wearing that outfit! What gives?"
"Well," Shaw cautiously let out, "you and Cordelia have done everything you can to help me learn how to do things like someone native to Sunnydale."
"And you've fought us tooth and nail at nearly every point," Amy rejoined, trying not to needle her in return for her comment.
Silently conceding the argument to a point, the Mielikkian added, "I just want to show that I am willing to make the effort, and to show that I do appreciate your help, however much enjoyment you gain from it. We can consider tonight a. . trial run."
"You know," Amy giggled to her over the line, "we were hoping you'd wear that outfit to the Bronze."
Now, the warrior let a bit of amusement into her voice. "I know."
Amy got the point fairly rapidly. "Ohhh, you just can't avoid being a smartass, can you?"
"Yes, Amy, I can." She thoughtfully said, "I thought you wanted me to act more like I was when I was younger."
Amy's response was slow in coming. Eventually, she responded with, "Shaw, I do. But you don't have to force it, you know? I know you're still trying to figure stuff out, at least to an extent. Look at last week; you were so happy with the twins, I saw those flashes of what you were like when you were my age. When we had to come back early, you were upset about it, but I understood. I was pissed, too." A pause. "I guess what I'm saying is, the same thing Joan told you; take it one day at a time."
"I am," Shaw answered, touched by the concern.
"Good. Now let's talk about tonight," the Amazon said in an attempt to cheer both of them up. "You made any New Year's resolutions?"
A wry smile on her lips, Hunter told Amy, "The first one goes against your traditions; per Cordelia's comments about my being too thin, I resolved to gain some weight, though it will be a challenge without the aid of feeding myself an insane number of brownies like certain people who shall remain nameless."
"Hey!" Amy snapped. Shaw could hear her snarling over the line. "Hunter, dissing brownies while I'm on the phone is as dangerous as putting down chocolate in front of Buffy."
"And look where eating either would get me," the half-elf shot back. She leaned against the wall and said, "My second resolution was to never again try to play a joke on Robin, after what happened on Christmas Day."
Amy laughed back at her. "Yeah, he got you quick, didn't he?" she snickered. "Be serious now. Anything else?"
"To keep in practice with my music," she continued with a light smile. "If I do decide to become a ‘regular' at the Southern Kingdom, then I need to keep up with my playing."
"I swear, I'm gonna kill the Terrors for getting their hooks into you," Amy growled. This was at least the tenth time since introducing Shaw to the twelve-year-olds that she'd regretted bringing Renn Faires to Shaw's attention.
"As I see it," she added, "you said the same thing about Xander introducing me to television. Yet he lives."
"Don't remind me."
The cousins laughed over the phone until Amy talked again. "Hey, you want to head for the Mall before the party? With all year-end sales going on, I'm pretty sure we'll find some good deals."
Shaw's face fell a bit. Sighing in sadness, she said, "I am sorry, Amy, but I have something I am doing before the party."
"What's that?" Amy asked, surprising Shaw by sounding pleased.
"I. . I am going to read the letters," she answered, barely loud enough for Amy to hear.
A second later, the teen witch encouragingly said, "I'm glad, Shaw. It's good that you're going to." Her voice softened to a supportive tone. "Don't be afraid, okay? I'll talk to you at the party, if you want to talk about it."
"Thank you," Shaw said with genuine gratitude. She then whispered, "I love you, Amy."
Shaw could almost see the serene smile that Amy had on her face, if the change in her voice was indicative of her facial expression. "Talk to you later, cuz."
"Good-bye," Shaw said as the line clicked.
Shaw walked into her room and quietly shut the door. Walking over to her dresser, she slowly opened the top drawer. She reached in and pulled a ribbon-tied bundle of parchments and walked over to her bed, her eyes locked onto the letters that former comrades and teachers had sent to her.
//It's about time, // Brenna called from elsewhere in the house.
Shaw's head whipped up to stare at the door. "Brenna. . ."
//I'll leave you alone, Shawukay, // the cat's response came before the half-elf could utter a second word. // I simply think that you've been putting this off. I'm proud that you're finally doing it. //
As the Siamese's voice fell silent, Shaw slowly pulled the ribbon loose. Once the knot was undone, the Slayerette set it aside. She quickly set the letter from Storm aside; she wasn't ready for that one yet. Sorting through the rest, she recognized the writing on two more. One was from Tamaran, which surprised her. Their relationship had been strained after. . .
<He apologized,> Shaw scolded herself. <He regretted what happened just as much as you did.>
The other penmanship she knew on sight was the flowing Elvish script of one of the personal champions of Shaw's Goddess, Ashallia Nyserrion, who had indoctrinated Shaw into the Church of the Forest Queen.
Shaw stared at the letter for several moments, trying to figure out why she was so surprised. She put it down to the fact that Ashallia was in the last thirty or forty years of her life and had still taken the time to write to her, despite her duties as head of the Lady's temple in Deepingdale. The junior also got a better idea of just how far Robin's friend, whoever he was, had gone for his gift to her.
<If I ever meet this friend,> she thought, <I shall have to thank him.>
Finally, the priestess finally decided to stop putting off her task. She picked up the letters and scooted back on her bed. Leaning against the headboard, Shaw idly crossed her legs at the ankles and decided to select a note at random. She fished through them and found a second letter written in Espruar, the dialect of Elvish native to Faerun. Her curiosity piqued, she started to unfold the parchment.
To Shawukay Redarrow of Deepingdale, do I, the Lady Llednas
Amarillis, daughter of the House of Amarillis, husband of Aeurulieth of Leuthilspar, warrior of Evermeet, and member of Those Who
Harp, send greetings.
Yes, I suppose my
introduction must sound pompous, arrogant, and long-winded, but considering how short it is compared to some of the People I have
known in my time, I think we are both getting off fortunately. Also, there is the fact that as an elven noblewoman, I am told that
I have a certain "standard" to maintain.
Personally, I would just as
soon cut my sword hand off at the wrist as write down more than the simplest, and thus most honest, of salutations to friends new
and old.
But enough of such
musings. I would much rather discuss my joy at knowing that you have weathered the years as
well as you have, and hopefully as well as I have.
First, I will give you the
regrets of both myself and my husband. When I was contacted by the person who acted on the behalf of your friend, who sounds far too
strange to believe, and I have seen much in my two hundred and fifteen years, Aeurulieth was occupied on a mission to Evermeet,
the details of which I cannot go into. I know that Aeurulieth would want to write a similar correspondence to you, but alas, that
is not to be for now. I will inform him of your good health and fortune, and hope that you will respond to my letter with one of
your own. So, I shall say, "Well met," "Sweet water and light laughter until next we meet," and everything that he would write or
say in between.
As for the regrets that
originate with me, they are not so easy to explain. Shawukay, as you remember, it has been
given to me, by the Lord Corellon, to see things that are yet to come. As such, the
knowledge is often cryptic, if not completely baffling. On occasion, the Father of All Elves spares me a portion of His wisdom to
know and comprehend what I see, and to act accordingly. One of these occasions concerned you.
Yes, I did indeed have
prior knowledge of you before our meeting in Voonlar. Mere weeks before you first walked into that room in the Drunken Orc, I saw
you in my dreams. Not as you were, so young and full of joy, but rather older, perhaps before or after you read the very words I now
put to ink. I can imagine, and understand, your probable reactions. Disbelief, frustration,
and certainly anger. I can only hope that you will continue to read, and hopefully forgive
me for not speaking of this before we separated for the mission.
I swear to you, by all that
I hold dear, that I had no knowledge of the mission or its outcome. For most of my days, I
am as you are, unknowing of what the future may bring. But I would never have allowed what
happened, to happen if such had been within my power.
What I did see, in those
dreams, was you as an older, more experienced warrior. I saw you wielding your sword against all forms of undead and ta'narri and
defeating them. In some of these visions, you were alone. In many, you were not. I saw many people in your company. Warriors with
saber like blades, light and dark-haired. Lovers who fight with enchanted weapons like those I mention in the previous sentence.
Girls whose hair is light, dark, or red, if darker than my own, using the skills of warriors and wizards to defeat what I assumed
were some form of vampire, like the one that took your family. One, however, stands out above all others. A young woman, light
haired yet similar in face to you, who wields a magic beyond Aeurulieth at the time we met. If you know of whom I speak, then I am
glad that you have found her. If not, I can only tell you what I feel in my mind; I believe she is kin to you.
How this is possible, I cannot be sure. As you know,
planar travel is possible for those of sufficient power, so perhaps one of your ancestors traveled to the strange world I see this
girl defending, the world I assume you now reside on. I was told that you have found kin on this plane, but whom it is was not
elaborated upon.
I believe in time, you
shall love her as much as you told me you revered your Grandparents.
Shawukay, my own heart
still aches, to this day, for both the things that happened then, what I know has happened since then, and what may lie ahead for
you. I also know that, in the end, you will be happy. Perhaps you already are, and for that
I have fervently prayed for more than once. May the Seldarine grant this in full sweet measure.
If you are still
reading this, and hold no hatred for me or mine, I would like to bring you up to the present, in both my life as well as my family.
You remember, I am sure, that I was to bear a daughter. She is now in her twenty-second
winter, and exhibits the potential to be a fighter-mage like her father. Soraka, as we named
her, has her father's eyes, an amber color that any jeweler would envy. Her hair is my color of fiery orange, and she has both
Aeurulieth's trait of being somewhat stern for her age, as well as my occasional temper. I
think you would like her, and she you, Shawukay. For some reason, when I look at her, I see much of you at the time that you were a
part of our group. I hope that you will journey here again, to visit us so that you can
meet. That is a hope my husband and I hold dear to us.
As for myself and
Aeurulieth, after our final parting in Shadowdale, we journeyed here, to Evereska, retiring from active service from the Harpers to
prepare for the more hazardous duty of parenthood. We joined the Guard, which defends the colony from outside attack.
In the two decades since then, both of us hold the rank of Lieutenant. I know that my beloved
has earned his lofty position, based solely on skill of arms and magic, but I sometimes wonder if my own rank is due to my name
rather than the skills I possess. As my skill nearly equals that of my husband, I choose to
take the high road in this.
After Soraka's birth,
Aeurulieth's grandmother, a Bladesinger, joined us in the Greycloak Hills. She had also just
ended her long career, only as a diplomat and ambassador for Queen Amlaruil, and joined us in the family home. Her reasons, though
expressed as her advancing age, are somewhat simpler and more transparent; she wants to spend the rest of her days doting on her
young great-granddaughter. As it is, she became restless even with that fine lifestyle and chose to teach at the Academy of Arms and
Magic. I am sure you can imagine the status that she could hold in such a position, yet only teaches on occasion, rather than as a
full time vocation. Yet she is sometimes a source of frustration for certain moon elven
parents who try to exert some control over their inquisitive, young, impatient child.
If you are doing so, please
stop laughing at the expense of two parents with such a precocious would-be Bladesinger.
As for the last years, they
have passed more or less quietly, if one discounts the flight of dragons, the Godswar, the Tuigan Horde, which Aeurulieth and I did
find battle with after volunteering to aid the army led by Azoun of Cormyr, and the other usual upheavals one expects in the lives
of Faerun.
I know that your life has
been less than ideal, and again, I hope that you will find the mercy to forgive me for the lack of a role in preventing any
tragedies that I may have foreseen or not had any knowledge of.
In this, I can see how
Aeurulieth's conscience has troubled him for just as long, for his belief that he was at fault in being unable to prevent the
actions of Jazartho. Your refusal to blame him did act as a balm for his guilt, to a point,
but he still feels great regrets for what happened, as well as for things he wished to say, to make up for not saving you from the
wizard's treatment of you. Gifting you with Soulreaver was, to him, the least of what he could do in repayment, but I do know that
it did help to dull his pain somewhat.
Again, it was with a great
deal of happiness that I learned of your current situation. When my husband returns from
Evermeet, I will give him the knowledge that was entrusted to me. He may well write his own correspondence to you, and between you
and myself, I pray it will destroy more of the guilt he holds. I know it would do much more if you would respond to his letter,
should you receive one, or even to my own words, once you decide how you feel about me. I only ask that you not hold my husband
equally responsible, for I was not permitted by our Lord Corellon to reveal the things to him that I have shared with
you.
Yes, there are things which
I am not even permitted to give to the man I love with all my soul, rapport or no. Perhaps
that is the guilt I must bear, to balance that felt by Aeurulieth. But again, I digress.
Shawukay, in
closing I will declare this, and pray you will know it for the genuine words they are, for they do poor justice to my
emotions. When we met, I considered you a friend and comrade from the second we laid eyes
upon each other. Your passion, love, and ability to give your heart to others (whom I speak
of, we both know and regret her loss as well) made me not only happy to call you friend, but a bit envious as well.
Now, as I write these words, and as you read them, we are older, smarter, and hopefully wiser.
And despite the distances of years and planes, I still call you my friend, and my sister in service to the causes of helping
others. I pray that you will say the same for me.
Truthfully yours,
Llednas Amarillis
Zhentarim Caravan
Between the Border Forest and Dragonspine Mountains
Northeast of the Dalelands, Faerun
Toril (the Forgotten Realms)
2 September 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning)
"Shawukay!" Aeurulieth screamed at the top of his lungs. It was futile, however, as his voice was simply a whisper drowned out against the barrage of lightning his newfound sister continued to call down from the grayish sky.
The oblivious ranger called down a fourth bolt of energy as rain continued to pelt everyone in the area. Aeurulieth started to move forward but was stopped by a stern warning.
//Aeurulieth, no! Do not approach her! //
//But she. . . //
"Aeurulieth," Llednas said, this time verbally. Her musical voice turned his head to her, where he saw the worry plastered across her angular features. "Do you have any dispelling magics left?"
Aeurulieth searched his mind and nodded. "I have one."
"Use it," she warned him. They let their gazes turn back to the bleeding ranger. "Negate her spell, before an accident can happen!"
The fighter-mage, born on the island of Evermeet, grimly nodded his assent. He went through the motions of casting a spell over Shawukay, one that would cancel her deadly divine spell. With a soft, cracked voice, he pointed at the blood of his blood and felt a flare of unseen magical energy spreading out toward her.
Through his link to the Weave, the source of all magic in Faerun, the moon elf felt the less powerful casting of his sister dissipate. There was no physical effect, as she continued to stand there, facing what had once been the personal wagon of Jazartho, the Zhentarim slaver his band of Harpers had been sent to bring to justice.
He glanced at Llednas, who pointed to herself, indicating that she should be the one to approach the recently tortured Mielikkian. His heart cracked again, but he nodded tersely, in understanding and grief.
He felt a rough, callused hand grip his elbow. Aeurulieth turned to see Dargen, axe in one hand, looking at him with a similar sorrow in his dwarven eyes. The fighter growled, "She's avenged, lad. Let it go."
With a grimace and glance at the ruins of the caravan leader's domicile, Aeurulieth muttered, "She left nothing to let go of."
"I mean the mercenaries, and ye know it," Dargen countered with a nod toward the mass of humanity awaiting the Harpers' decision of what would happen to them. "They were geased, weren't they?"
"Aye, Dargen," Aeurulieth sighed, trying to let a bit of his rage fade away. With a glance at his wife and sister a few yards away, he said, "Let us see how the situation stands."
The reluctant warrior-wizard and the bearded fighter turned to speak with their comrades.
With rain plastering her fire-colored hair against her head and scalp, Llednas carefully approached her gravely wounded sister. With the shower washing the blood from Shawukay's back, the noblewoman saw just how terrible their separation had become.
"Corellon, why?" she asked, her lip trembling. "Why did I not see this thing coming?"
She knew why, deep down in her soul; if she had known, she would have tried to stop it, no matter the future consequences. <I would have followed my heart.> She gingerly touched Shawukay's left shoulder, left bare to the elements. She spoke in a calm, soft voice, hoping not to startle the half-elf. "Shawukay?"
There was no response. Shawukay simply stood there, unmoving.
Cold fear gripped Llednas' heart. Keeping her grip on Shawukay's shoulder, she stepped around to face the young girl directly. When she did, her face fell in despair. Shawukay's face was blank, completely devoid of any emotions. Worst of all were her eyes. So joyous, humorous, and full of life less than a tenday ago, the child's hazel orbs were now glassy and lifeless. Not in the sense of someone who had departed this life, but worse; someone who had fled into themselves, because they were unable to face what the outside world held.
"Oh Gods no," the tenderhearted elfwoman whispered. Tears started to form in her amber eyes, but the rain striking her face washed them away. Her head shook in fear, her only consolation being that she knew, from her dreams, that Shawukay would eventually return to them. <But I assumed. . . oh Lord Corellon, what will happen to her until then?> As usual, the Father of All Elves did not answer her questions, leaving her to find her own wisdom. Llednas ran her eyes up and down Shawukay's body, trying to identify any other injuries in a vain attempt to put her mind on the business of saving the girl's life before moving on to saving her mind. Glancing along the bare stomach, her upper torso, and her arms, the fighter saw no obvious injuries on this part of her anatomy.
Llednas ripped her cloak off and wrapped it around Shawukay's back, clasping it in place to hide her nakedness from the people with them. She glanced into those faded eyes again, desperately praying to the Seldarine for any sign that Shawukay acknowledged her actions. She saw none.
She took rain- and blood-drenched half-elf by her left arm and shoulder. "Shawukay," she said with a choked whisper, "can you hear me?" When no indication came from that blank cloud-colored face, Llednas slowly walked forward, guiding the catatonic half-elf toward the larger group.
<Father, please let this one come back to us,> Llednas pleaded, sending up one last prayer to the King of the Elven Gods. <She is needed by her family. Please.>
Aeurulieth saw Qualeck looking past him. He turned to see his wife and sister coming towards them, but his rapport with his beloved told him everything instantly.
He moved forward and stood before them. He asked, "Shawukay?"
When no answer, no flash of recognition, came from her distant eyes, he turned to glare at Dyarn Orchunter, leader of the mercenary group that had been hired, and subsequently geased, by the slaver wizard.
When he gripped the handle of Soulreaver tightly, he heard Llednas' voice in his head. // Aeurulieth, he had no choice! He was misled and his sorrow is plain to see! // When he failed to release the grip on his weapon, his love primly said, // Shawukay's life may be in danger. //
That ripped his attention to where it rightfully belonged. "What?" he asked in fright.
Llednas' lips tightened into a thin line. // The wounds are numerous. She is still bleeding and we have no healing potions or cleric. I fear infection and blood loss beyond the mental torture. We must dress her wounds, and swiftly! //
Their heads turned to Qualeck. "Qualeck," Aeurulieth said in the beginnings of a desperate plea, "Shawukay needs to have her wounds tended to. Please. ."
The tall, middle-aged ranger nodded and walked over to the two elven females. He gently took Shawukay's arm and led the unaware woman away.
Aeurulieth and Llednas glanced at each other and walked over to Dyarn, who had his wrists manacled by the very chains that had once held one of the villagers, his men had clamped them unto. Aeurulieth stared the soldier down and growled, "Do you realize what you may have done to my sister, mercenary?"
Dyarn, his flaxen beard soaked with rainwater, eyed the furious elf with a mix of sympathy and anger. "If I hadn't had that Gods damned geas on myself, I would have destroyed that bastard myself, Harper." Aeurulieth didn't comment, seeing the honesty in the human's eyes. The captain continued. "Have you been told what happened after we were hired, elf?"
"No," Aeurulieth snapped in sarcasm. "Why don't you tell us? Perhaps it will be enough to prevent me from following through on my first instinct, to send every single one of your men to the afterlife."
That got a rise out of the captured mercenary. He stepped forward and glared down into the fighter-mage's amber eyes. "You will not harm my men, Harper," he swore despite his captivity. "I am the leader of these men, thus I will bear the brunt of their punishment!" He stood at his full height. "I was the one who negotiated with the Zhents, thus I was the one who led my men into this. I will grant, some of them are not the best of humanity. But some are good people, and I swear by Tempus, I will not allow you to determine their fate, no matter how much I wish I had stopped what happened to the child."
"You are right about one thing," Aeurulieth said at length, once he'd considered the warrior's words. "I will not determine your men's fate; that is for a Harper tribunal to decide." When the mercenary settled down and nodded in agreement, Aeurulieth added, "We will tend to the villagers first. Then, and only then, will we see to your soldiers."
"As is right," Dyarn offered with a nod of his hairy face.
Aeurulieth turned and left to talk to the villagers, most of who were huddled in the wagons that had previously served as their prison, only now it was to protect themselves from the weather.
Llednas sighed as her husband stalked off. She turned to Dyarn and said, "Orchunter, for what it may be worth, I believe your claims. And I will be willing to speak to the Tribunal, at least to give them my impressions."
"Thank you, Lady Amarillis," the leader said gratefully, if in a tired voice. "Do you wish to hear the details of our hiring?"
Llednas considered that. Beyond having the facts for whatever trial the Harpers decided to convene, something she thought unnecessary given the soldiers' unwilling enslavement by Jazartho, she thought it might be prudent to gain whatever information she could on the Zhents' hiring practices, should the Harpers need such knowledge in the future.
She nodded to him. "Yes, Dyarn. Tell me everything you can remember. From your opening negotiations to this very second."
Dyarn nodded in understanding; he was giving information that might save his men, if not his own life. After the way his team had been treated, he was more than happy to give up everything.
Aeurulieth walked over to an old woman, who seemed to have more of her wits about her than any of the other villagers at the moment. He walked up to her and asked, "Grandmother, might I speak with you?"
The woman, who was likely less than half of Aeurulieth's age, nodded with sadness. "Of course, my Lord. What do you wish to know?"
The elven Harper sat down next to her. "Everything," he said, fighting down his disgust at what was likely to be a plethora of unpleasant details about what had happened to his kin. "I must know everything that happened from the time the Zhentarim attacked."
The woman nodded eagerly and began to talk about what had befallen her village.
An hour later, Llednas and Aeurulieth joined the others in a circle. The rain was tapering off, nature's fury spent for the time being. The dwarven fighter Axeheart looked the elves in the eye and said, "Well, lad and lass, let's hear it."
The husband and wife relayed their stories to the other three members of Those Who Harp, the versions given them by the guard and farmwife being very similar. After giving the facts, as well as their own impressions, Dargen rubbed his bristly chin for several heartbeats.
He glanced at Llednas. "Ye believe him, All-Seeing One?"
The moon elf folded her arms and dipped her chin, ignoring Dargen's attempt at boosting their spirits. "I have no doubts about his honesty. Or his honor. He would not have willingly participated in this."
Soryen's gentle, soprano voice spoke up. "Is this your deduction, or your hope?"
Llednas gazed at her for half a second before answering, "Both."
"Ah," the bard from Baldur's Gate said. Nothing else was needed.
"And you, spell tosser?" the short man asked Aeurulieth.
The mage stared into his eyes for a time. Finally, his shoulders sagged. "The woman's version matches with what Orchunter told Llednas." A second later, he added, "I still wish to know why Jazartho would take such actions."
"Some on both sides claim madness," Qualeck offered, leaning on his longbow.
"There is a way to find out," Soryen offered, slight hesitation in her voice. She glanced at Aeurulieth. "But I hesitate to mention it."
The elves bristled; they knew what she was suggesting. Dargen knew that she spoke of this for more than finding out what they could from the wizard's spirit, to use against his former masters. The Baldurian also offered them the chance to ask the wizard himself why he had performed the actions that ultimately led to his demise, if only for their peace of mind and soul.
Dargen decided to take the decision out of their reluctant hands. "Aeurulieth, Soryen, decide who calls that bastard's ghost." When Aeurulieth's eyes darkened at the possibility of summoning a shade from the afterlife, the dwarf pointed a stubby finger at him. "We got too many questions, and not near enough answers, sharp ears! I'll not be bringing half-baked theories to the Masters, ye can be sure o' that." His stuffy tone softened a bit. "Seems only he'd know fer sure why he done what he did to yer baby sister, Aeurulieth. Maybe he'll be wanting ta get somethin' off his chest before seein' his Lord or Lady, if ye get me point."
Aeurulieth apparently did, as he just nodded silently. He glanced to Soryen and the two walked off to discuss who might cast such a spell. As they left, Dargen turned back to Llednas. "Anythin' else?"
"Yes, Dargen," the warrior woman responded with a sigh. "Dyarn is adamant that he bear the brunt of whatever punishment is levied against him and his men. He believes that as their commander, he is responsible for any action taken against them." She glanced at the wagon currently housing the mercenaries who hadn't fallen to Harper steel and spells. "There is one in particular he worries about."
"Yulin?" Qualeck asked with a raised eyebrow. When Llednas nodded in affirmation, he shrugged. "The villagers I have spoken with all mentioned that he was against what happened here." He paused, hesitant to bring up the next point. "They also said he feels great guilt over the wizard choosing his actions to determine what happened to Shawukay."
"Dyarn told me the same thing," Llednas admitted. She whispered, "He is a young one, isn't he?"
"By any standards, Llednas," Dargen said before spitting at the ground. "But if we let him off, the other guards, not to talk about the villagers, might not take kindly to that." He glanced between the others. "'Less ye want to unchain all them soldiers."
Qualeck looked between the elf and dwarf. "Are you saying we should let this young man, who all involved say is a decent sort, suffer in chains the whole way back to Shadowdale?"
"Dargen is right about this much; we cannot show favoritism to the soldiers who are good, like Dyarn or this young Yulin," Llednas sighed. "It would only color the opinions against the less savory sorts, as much as we might try to deny it."
Dargen glanced around the campsite, thinking about it. A gleam lit up his eyes. "What if we pressed all of ‘em into service on the way back?" he asked his friends. "Like cookin', finding firewood, and the like." Upon their skeptical looks, he growled, "Under guard o' course! Do ye take me fer an idiot?" He immediately added, "Don't answer that, Tree Lovers." He glanced at the temporary prisoner wagon. "In the young un's case, we give him something that gets him away from the bastards he works with, an' lets him make up for what happened. To ease his guilt, ye might say."
"What do you mean?" Llednas asked, a ray of some light in her eyes.
Dargen's rumbly voice softened. "Yer sister needs someone to watch over her, Llednas. By my thinkin', maybe we should let the kid tend to her, change her dressings, under the watchful eye of one of us."
"Aeurulieth or myself," Llednas said with certainty.
"Nah," the dwarf said, a strange look in his eye. He nodded his head and said, "Let Soryen do it." At the surprised looks on Llednas' and Qualeck's faces, he shrugged. "Lass can watch over the scrawny farm kid, Llednas. We'll be needin' ye, Aeurulieth, and me to watch over the bastards; they'd be fearin' me temper, yer husband's spells, and yer sword, after our little display. Ye and me ain't babysitters, ye know." He grinned through his wiry facial hair. "'Sides, I be thinkin' that maybe she'll have an easier time with Yulin than I would."
Qualeck doubtfully asked, "What makes you say that, old friend?"
"Oh, call it a hunch," the dwarf said, turning to amble off and see to the villagers.
The elf and human watched him leave, turned to each other, and shrugged helplessly.
Aeurulieth settled himself down in under a tree, holding a spell book that held what he believed to be Jazartho's mage's sigil. As every mage, upon reaching a certain level of power, adopted such a mark, he assumed it to be the wizard's as there were no other casters among his group.
He set it down and was conscious of a slim, female form settling down a short distance away.
//Husband, Soryen could do this. //
He shook his head. // No, I must ask these questions myself, love. If only. . . if only to share the answers with her when she comes back to us. //
//When? // Llednas asked.
He glanced at her misty eyes. // Yes. When. I remember what you have seen in your dreams. She will come back to us. And until then, we shall do what we can. //
"Agreed," his bride said, switching to verbal speech to ensure that whoever cared to listen heard her. She switched her eyes to the spell book. "Go ahead, I shall simply listen."
The mage swallowed and began casting his spell. Within a few moments, he looked forward, awaiting the arrival of the ghost of Jazartho of Zhentil Keep. He felt the tension from his wife as she also waited expectantly, also feeling that this was wrong, as the People would never disturb the afterlife of anyone unless there was no other recourse.
After ten or twelve seconds, a transparent form began to manifest itself, six inches off the ground and three feet in front of Aeurulieth. Soon, floating before the husband and bride was the ghostly image of the wizard killed just hours earlier.
The baldheaded image glanced at the two elves sitting before them before focusing on Aeurulieth. Unlike the descriptions from the villagers and mercenaries, the wizard hovering before him had clear, knowledgeable eyes, not those of a madman. He nodded in recognition and said, "You have questions."
Aeurulieth's lips curled into a snarl. "Yes, Zhentarim. I do." He felt a gentling touch of concern from his wife and kept his mind on business. "I have questions for you."
Jazartho jumped into speaking before he could verbally ask his series of inquiries. "Allow me to save you time and energy, mage. I only ask one boon in return?"
"You are ask me for anything, after what you have done?" Aeurulieth demanded harshly, his hands curling into fists.
Llednas jumped in. "What would you ask, Jazartho of Zhentil Keep?"
He glanced at Aeurulieth's mate and said, "The child who freed me from my madness. Give her my thanks."
The elves were shocked into silence by that request. Aeurulieth hoarsely asked, "What did you say?"
Jazartho's head dipped, as if in shame. His eyes then flicked back up to the mage. "It began four months ago, when I uncovered some scrolls of Netherese origin. Being a mage, you can imagine the worth of such a find." Aeurulieth nodded once. "Of course. Anyway, I began studying them, transcribing them, and eventually I tried to work some of the spells I learned from the scrolls." He sighed and inserted his arms into the large sleeves of his robe. "One of the spells was miscast, through my own fault. It. . . made me unstable, heightening certain personality traits. In my case, my suspicious nature."
Aeurulieth's jaw clenched. "So you were mad, as the mercenaries claim?"
Another sigh came from the spectral magic-user. "Oh yes. With my death, I am thankfully freed from that unhappy state." Aeurulieth's eyes flashed, making the wizard favor him with a glare. "Please consider that I am pleased to be dead, mage, rather than be stuck in such a state of madness. Does that tell you nothing?"
The elven man couldn't argue that point. He then said, "So how mad were you, Zhent?"
"The more magic I used, the more twisted I became," came the spirit's answer. "A sickening stroke of irony for a magic-user. But you did not call me here to speak to me of my own fall from normality, son of Evermeet. You called me here to reveal the methods of my fellows. I will give you their secrets, in return for asking for you to give thanks to the woman who granted me freedom from that mental cage."
Aeurulieth clenched his teeth, not wanting to give anything to this shade, despite the deep down realization that he had not truly been responsible for his actions.
Llednas interjected her own words. "Do you expect the survivors of your victims to forgive you, wizard?"
"That is for Mother Mystra to decide," he said simply, showing a bit of reverence in his eyes for the Goddess of Magic.
Aeurulieth finally consented with a resigned nod. "I will speak to my sister and hope that your thanks are enough to allow her to forgive you for killing the child she took as her own." He gave the wizard a glare to show how unlikely he thought that scenario to be. "That is, if you care."
"I make no apologies for my path in life, Harper," Jazartho said calmly. He shrugged and said, "Sometimes, we choose our path. Sometimes, circumstances dictate our path. As the saying goes, one cannot change the past." He glanced at Llednas, perhaps thinking she would believe him more easily. "Whether it means anything to you or not, given my own fate, I regret what happened to them, and I will say the same to Mystra. She will see the truth and decide my place in the afterlife, even if you cannot forgive me." He looked past Aeurulieth, as if looking at something in the distance. "My time runs out, Harper. So listen well, if you are to use my knowledge against my brothers in this world after I leave it for the last time."
The Harpers decided to move until sundown. When they settled down for the night, they pressed some of the guards-cum-prisoners into labor, cooking and gathering enough wood to keep the fire going through the night, under the watchful eyes of the anger-filled Harper elves.
Qualeck and Dargen voted to keep first watch, granting time for Llednas and Aeurulieth to check on Shawukay's condition before catching some sleep before their own turn at watch came up.
It only took one look into the wagon the Harpers had claimed for Shawukay's care, seeing the guilt-wracked Yulin watching over the still, staring half-elf and somber Soryen gently strumming her lute, to realize that she had not yet come out of her coma-like state.
Llednas walked with Aeurulieth, an arm around his waist and leaning into his body. With a voice that belied her own sorrow, she whispered, "Remember the future, my love. We still have the future."
From the words left unsaid, Aeurulieth knew that she was trying to reassure herself just as much as she tried to allay his fears. "The future, beloved."
He stopped, making her glance at him. She came in front of him and placed her palms flat against his chest. Gazing into his amber eyes, the ones she knew that their child would inherit, she forced herself to smile. "She will come to us, Aeurulieth. And she will know our daughter. And. . ." the flame-haired warrior said, knowing that she could at least give him what he truly wanted to know, ". . . we will be a family. That is my vow to you."
Mentally exchanging vows of love and patience, Llednas and Aeurulieth sealed their oaths with a kiss.
Johansen/Hunter Residence
Sunnydale, California
31 December 1998
Shaw set the note down while thinking about what Llednas had told her through her correspondence. She read the note a second time, trying to ensure that she didn't read between the lines, at least not incorrectly.
Her first thought, despite Llednas' written fears, was not of anger. Rather, it was for the woman herself. She let her hazel eyes wander over the Espruar, thinking, <How does she live with such a burden? I knew at the time that she knew what was to come, but to know and not be allowed to act upon it. . .>
Shaw sat there for several minutes, just thinking about how while Llednas claimed to be as much in the dark as most people, most of her days, she must still live with granted knowledge. She reread the part about how her companion on that mission had some knowledge of Shaw's own life, but again, the priestess wondered. <But has what she knows already passed? Or is it yet to come? > She decided it didn't matter for now.
Shaw then considered her own statements to her friends, of how she had few regrets about staying on Earth after fulfilling the prophecy that had brought her to this world in the first place. <As Elminster once said,> she thought dismally, <"I have often found that prophecies make a great deal of sense, after the fact."> She felt yet another pang of sympathy for how Llednas must feel, scanning the letter yet again. <She has no way of knowing whether what she has seen is ‘after the fact.' She. . is just as unknowing and unsure as when I first came here.>
The Slayerette considered her dual feelings over naming Earth her home. On the one side, she knew she had another purpose here. She also had family here, but had come to the decision to stay forever, no matter how her still-evolving relationship with Amy turned out. Yet, she still wondered sometimes, how those who had influenced her life had weathered the years. Obviously, some of them had also wondered about her. She glanced at the other letters, sitting on her bed next to her. She uncrossed her ankles and slid off the side of the bed.
Shaw went into her closet and extracted a backpack from the floor. Going through it, she took out what she would need and set to work.
Llednas and Aeurulieth, Guardians of Evereska, members of Those Who Harp, and friends to me,
Well met.
I know, it is not so grand a greeting as that you
graced upon me, but. . sometimes, my emotions and my heart deny me words sufficient to describe them. Thankfully, I have no such standards as those certain members of the Highest Houses of the People are forced to live
up to. Rather, I am a young, impulsive woman who can speak her heart or, as is more often
the case with me, my mind, however bluntly. As for the grandeur or simplicity of exchanged salutations, your greeting to me was
heartfelt, so I accepted it as such.
As you wrote in your letter, I have survived up to
know, the day before the span of years turns unto a new period of time. Surprisingly, the calendars of Abeir-Toril and Earth (the
world I now reside upon) are virtually identical, with minor alterations not worth mentioning here. By the calendar of Harptos, tomorrow will be the beginning of 1370, as time is reckoned in the Dalelands.
It took me some time to figure such things out, for reasons that I will discuss at a later
date.
Llednas, I will not claim to understand the
burdens that you carry, nor will I hold you responsible for them. For what you know of me,
the events in my life, whether past or future, have or will come about because of my own actions and choices. So I ask you, as I
asked Aeurulieth those years ago, do not blame yourself for the path I have led. It is not
fair to you. If any blame is to be levied for any part of my life, it is mine to shoulder.
One thing that I can understand is having some knowledge of my future, however muddied that information is. Let me just say that it
involves archmages, dimensional magics, and ancient prophecies, and leave it at that. The less said about said certain powerful
wizards at this point in my life, the better.
Privately, to Llednas; if Aeurulieth does not
begin to understand that this is directed to him as much as it is to you, do what must be done to make his male mind understand
that, rather than blame him for what happened in Bordertown, I thank him for helping to save my life, however much we could not
save others, including my beloved Kadali. If for some reason, he still does not comply, I
have discovered that a flat-handed smack to the back of the head seems to work on many Earth males, albeit those in their teenaged
years. I suggest you try it once or twice, to see if it works on stubborn elven
fighter-mages as well.
But back to our discussion of what has come to
pass since we parted ways.
Upon reading what you believe I would feel, I will
admit that it took a bit of time to determine what I did feel towards you. I am glad to find that anger was not among those
feelings. Rather, it is sympathy for the burden you must carry, day by day. I can only hope
that this burden will fade in time, or that the things you see are joyous, and may they never be painful ever again.
However, if that is not enough, then I say, I forgive you. In return, I ask that you might
forgive me, for certain wrongful and vengeful choices I have made in the past, could only have added to your visions and
thus your sadness.
Among the things you have mentioned seeing are
those I fight with and against. This much, I can tell you, has come to pass. Perhaps you will find solace in that my life, or so I hope, reached its darkest depths months
ago. The climb back to my previous heights has not been easy to say the least, but I am
able to persevere, not the least of which is because I have found the very friends you have seen in your dreams.
Before I go any further, please understand that
what I am about to reveal to you cannot be spoken of to anyone other than Aeurulieth, as the knowledge I am about to speak of is
dangerous in the wrong hands. As it is, I am sure there are those who would frown upon my revealing this much.
I do not care. You are my friends, and I hope to help you understand where I am at this point in
my life.
I have come to live in a "town" called Sunnydale,
on the western coast of a continent called North America (to compare to Toril, it is north and west of Maztica.
To travel west upon the ocean Sunnydale kisses would lead you to Kara-Tur. I hope this offers
some idea of where I live). This town I have made my home offers some of the contradictions you would find on Earth, should you ever
end up here. Sunnydale has between thirty-five and forty thousand people living in it, yet it is considered somewhat small by the
standards of this world. What is not generally known, by most of the inhabitants of
Sunnydale in particular (or Earth in general), is that the humans who built this town did so atop what the local people call a
"Hellmouth." In layman's terms, the Hellmouth is a weakening of the planar walls separating
this Prime Material Plane from its version of the Nine Hells. The differences again become
visible here; whereas Tiamat would be the first one to enter the Earth plane, here she is seen as a demon, while we of Faerun see
her as a devil. As I said, this world is strange, even after living here for over half a
year.
I look back over this letter as I write it and see
that I seem to stray from the point. I do not wish to discuss five-headed lizards on their
monthly cycles (please do not ask where that description comes from, for your own mental sake and mine).
You have mentioned seeing a wielder of magic with
light hair, to whom I am related. Be glad, my friends, for I have indeed found her. And I do love her.
Her name, her full name, is Amy Christine Madison.
Looking through the languages of this world, I have found that "Amy," in the original vernacular, means "beloved." She is indeed
that to me, as the first family I have known since losing those who raised me. It seems
that, contrary to your suppositions, that it was my great-grandmother, the Harper known as Alisondra (should you wish to search for
her background, you will find she had quite a career amongst us), who came to Faerun from Earth. Amy is the great-great-granddaughter of her younger sister, Lydia. Amy is not a mage, but a witch (like Alisondra
herself), coming from a family tradition four centuries strong.
There is so much I could tell you about her, and
the things that she has done for me to help me adjust to living here (again, something best left unsaid except face-to-face); an
example was her gift to me for my birthday only a month ago; a listing of the portion of my lineage that originates on this
world. Being People, I need not go further on how special this gift, six centuries of
family history, was to me. It quite literally drove me to tears of joy. It is only an example of how she has helped me, not only in meeting other kin I have here, but
also in leaving my own guilt and hatred behind as the loneliness I felt for so long dies. As
I said before, words cannot possibly describe what she means to me.
Somehow, I am certain that you understand my
feelings towards her, both of you.
It is with great joy that I hear that your
daughter is such a fine child. From your description, I have some (probably incorrect) idea of what she may look like. I am sure
she will set many hearts aflutter upon adulthood. That you see much of my younger self in her, and knowing what you mean by that, I
am glad that she possesses such a zest for life.
As for her great-grandmother, do not despair. It
is the purpose of grandparents to say "yes" and spoil their grandchildren when parents are required to say "no." I only hope that
Soraka herself has not figured this out and moved to make your raising of her even harder. However, as I have found out, parents
are meant to suffer when raising their children.
And yes, I am laughing over your situation. Nor
will I cease to do so, so I politely deny your request to do otherwise.
I am glad that the years have passed quietly for
you; I only wish my life had been as uneventful as yours. Yes, I chose my words
correctly. In the last seven months, I have arrived on Earth, learned the native tongue at
the hands of a divine servant of one of Earth's Gods and a retired watchman, fought warriors who cannot be killed except by
decapitation, discovered my Earth ancestry, traveled between two continents, discovered that this world is the very birthplace of
the Lady of the Forest (and several other Gods of Faerun), begun an education at a local school for teenaged humans (to better
learn about my new home), made friends and met my Earth family, met more than one divine servant of the Gods or some of Earth's
Gods themselves (including Amy's Goddess, who I name a friend and confidante), and begun learning how to live as an Earthwoman,
which is by my choice.
Among the less mundane things that have
happened are discovering that Amy is a mortal champion of her Goddess, similar to the Chosen of our own Gods (which leaves me
somewhat in awe of her); that the man vying for Amy's heart is none other than Robin Goodfellow, a sprite in service to the Lord
Oberon (Robin has subsequently "adopted" me as his infant sister, though I still wonder if that is necessarily a benefit, given his
reputation), the one known as the Merry Wanderer of the Night (I never knew his proper name, but of course we would know who he
was by that title); used the aid of a unicorn, a large cat, and the Lady Artemis to play a prank on Puck, Robin's ancient
rival; and three months ago, I died.
I thought that might gain your
attention.
In my
part of the prophecy that brought me here, I faced a demon in human form, the form of an assassin that might be found in Kara-Tur.
He had the better of me and was strangling me from behind when I did what I had to do, to secure his defeat as foretold in the
prophecy. I will spare you the disgusting details, but suffice it to say I found myself on the Ghost Roads, between mortal life and
what comes after. Perhaps Earth's equivalent of what we call the Fugue Plain, where the
departed of the human Gods await their rewards. The one who told me of Amy and my role in
the prophecy, a divine servant of a God and His paladin in her mortal life, told me that I yet have a role to play in Earth's
future.
Having come to feel a tie to this plane, I decided
then and there, however unconsciously, that this was my home. It only took this stubborn
half-elf another two moons before realizing it mentally and emotionally. To be brief, I was
sent back to this world, with Mielikki's permission, to continue to defend my home from those who would destroy it.
Sometimes, I do wonder which is harder; dealing
with vampires and demons, whose motives I can easily understand; or working with my teammates, growing closer to them and trying
to balance the various people I have been. The young idealist. The avenger. The hunter of
undead. The confused woman desperate to end her loneliness. The attractive young woman my
female friends, especially Amy and Cordelia, are sure resides within me and are determined to find a romantic partner
for.
If there is anything that can balance the scales
of laughter from my humor over Soraka's precocious tendencies, it is the thought of teenaged humans a third of my age trying to
find me the love of my life. Thankfully, they have not made such an overt attempt as of yet, so I wait with great trepidation.
Laugh at these images while you can.
Llednas, you spoke of conscience and guilt. Again,
there are no words I can speak that might relieve that pain, other than to say that it is misplaced, and that I hope to see you
again someday to renew our friendships.
Actually, I can say something about your
feelings.
I understand. I have my own feelings about those days, and beyond, that still plague me from time to time. So know that you are not alone
in feeling regrets about the past. As I said, I understand. Also, give these words to Aeurulieth, should he not read them himself; they are as much for him as they are for you.
And perhaps, however vicariously, they are for myself, too.
Also, remember this, Llednas; it is a flat-handed
smack to the back of the head, and not a punch. As stated earlier, it is not theory
that I give you, but observations of the method's practical application and usual success.
For future correspondences, I will talk to Robin
who, being the sprite who used a love potion on the Lady Titania Herself (and knowing this, should no longer be too hard for you
to believe in), should find performing the delivery of letters across the planes to be easy, given some of the things he has done
in the past. Please, do not ask, for I am afraid to do so myself.
To close out my letter, until we write to each
other again (or meet again, which I find I would prefer, despite Earth being my home now), allow me to return your declarations of
friendship and camaraderie. While you praise my qualities from that time, I tell you this; it was your willingness to accept me
despite my inexperience, and your sense of humor, that meant so much to me. And the gift given to you by the Gods allowed you
enough insight to the person I was to understand my own worries and doubts, and to overcome them. You helped me greatly, Llednas. As did Aeurulieth, with his ability to point out
things that I might not see, given my youth at the time.
As for distance, whether it is years or miles, I
feel them begin to lessen with the knowledge that you, both of you, are as happy as I am, and hope to be.
May Mielikki, Corellon, and All who watch over the
People, grant you the happiness we all give to others.
Sincerely, your friend for all time,
Shawukay Madison Redarrow
(Hunter)