Suilebhain noticed the look of sadness from his wife over her shoulder, felt the condescension from Ayslyn, thought about the long trek, and the worry, and for a moment, felt everything drain from him. Everything.


He was empty again.


"Do what ye like, Adelia. When ye are done, I'll be outside." He wanted to flee into the night. Instead, he edged to the door, sheathing but not relinquishing his weapon. "It is where I am most of the time, anyway, it seems."

Ayslyn shook his head, sadly, as he saw that Suilebhain had misunderstood what he was trying to do. "There are walls, and there are walls," he thought to himself, reminded of the way he tried to keep himself away from too close a relationship with anyone. "If you are uncomfortable, then I will not try to hold you here, my Friend," the emphasis on the last word was clear. Ayslyn held out his hand to Suilebhain. Tayana was forcing him to return to the man he had been long ago, before Esme had died. A man who reveled in strong friendships and the company of others. He only felt it fair, that he pay her back for it by helping someone else break down their walls.


"Don't let us leave on ill terms. While your wife, your daughter, your clan, and while I am around, you will never be left out. Not unless you wish it. I will hold a seat here for you. My only wish is that someday you will accept it, even if only for a short while, and give me a chance to prove that this place is a good one." He extended his hand a little farther.

 

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Right about this moment, Suilebhain's despair had heightened to an almost tangible degree. He has seen how Adelia responded to the idea of leeaving her little party with Ayslyn, and felt the words of the elder Elf like a whipcrack, whether intended that way or not. Elves who had lived for a long time seemed somehow aloof to the point of arrogant, but it was not really their fault. When one lives for a millenium, the turnover of friends or lovers almost makes a moment in one's life seem trivial. Suilebhain, on the other hand, had not lived a long time.


He looked to Adelia, the disappointment in her eyes, and realized that they did not share a soul. She seemed to enjoy the company of others more than his, as evidenced in the way she would act when he came upon her with some of her old Dragon friends. Now, it was Ayslyn. Not that they were lovers, just friends, but friends in a way that he could never be with her. He only needed her, while she seemed to need many.


The Champion took the outstretched hand of the Ranger and shook it quickly and firmly, releasing it quickly. He did not meet Ayslyn's eyes, however, as he turned toward the door.


"Perhaps another time, lad..."

Silently Adelia thought of many colorful words to curse elves and their stubborn, thick-headed, set in their dusty old ways mindsets. Reaching out she grasped Suilebhain's hand, following him closely as he turned to leave. If he was going to go, she was going with him, whether he was upset with her or not.


The door shut behind them and quietly the pair began making their way away from the Crossroads, the atmosphere thick and uncomfortable around them. Turning her head slightly she glanced back at the warm glow of the tavern, hoping that she might lose her way one day and stumble across it again.

Suilebhain stopped short and turned to face Adelia. In the dim moonlight, he could see a shiny trail leading from each eye. He knew that he had been a fool. Often knowing it made it worse, and in this case, nothing could make him feel worse. He needed to feel better.


He kissed her. It was a simple, sincere, gentle kiss that said what words could not say.


"I am sorry, a ghra."


Turning about, he nearly dragged her back into the tavern. This time, before Morden had even opened his mouth to deliver his customary greeting, the Champion slapped a myriad of weapons and his pack into the startled barkeep's arms. He moved through the crowd, an anxious Adelia in tow. As she saw the obeject of Suilebhain's attention, she raised her voice scoldingly.


"Don't ye be hittin' him, a ghra! He did nae do anything but be me friend....our friend!"


Suilebhain stopped in front of Ayslyn and released Adelia's hand just long enough to wrap his arms around the Ranger with speed that surprised even himself.


"Thank ye, Friend!" he said with relief, as he completed the embrace by vigorously patting Ayslyn on the back. "Thank ye!"


With that, he stepped back, composed himself, and fired off a brisk salute to the still baffled Ranger. He then turned to Adelia.


"Now, where is that food ye were talkin' about?" He grinned. "And no, no stories tonight. Time enough for talkin' later. For now, let us enjoy the moment."

Tatton ate his fill, and washed a bit of it with the ale. He looked down and noticed that half a bowl remained. His stomach had shrunk a bit it seems. He placed it on the floor and with a kick sent it sliding across to the floor towards the lynx, who barely looked up before helping himself to cleansing the bowl.


Tatton watched the amazing tales being told around him, and marveled at the merriment being shared by the Albions at a table nearby. The crossroads were here for Tatton surely. This is what he needed, more than anything, (well.... almost anything). But his spirit was being awakened, in an environment that was a second home to the bardagh.


Ayslyn with his tale left him quite curious, and he had intended to ask some private things of the elf. But this was not the place for such.


The dealings between Suilebaihne, Adelia and Ayslyn seemed a bit disturbing to Tatton. But when Suilebaihne stomped back in the inn towards Ayslyn... and welcomed him in a brotherly embrace... Tatton gave a cheer, surprising himself.


A light was beginning to burn once again in the bard.

 

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Ayslyn grinned happily as Adelia and Suilebhain made there way back to her table. "No, thank you my friend." he whispered. He looked back to the bar, grinning, and made his way back to Tatton.

 

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For everything there is a time, and when one is being chased by several trolls twice your size and season, it is time to RUN!


One advantage the heroine had over her pursuers was her speed; as a Celt she was lean and lithe and could easily slip past trees and brush that the trolls had to either push over or stomp down. But, Tayana was a heroine, not druid or ranger, and therefore not acclimated to tearing through forested areas. The treacherous tree root spontaneously leapt up and hooked itself over the toe of her boot, sending the girl tumbling forward, and then, as her luck would have it, down a small hill.


"Oof!" The air exploded from her chest as she landed with a bone jarring thump. Sputtering and coughing, it took her several moments to catch her breath. No angry troll's giant axe struck while she gathered herself, and Tayana prayed silently that she had lost those who had been chasing her. Staggering to her feet, she felt a dribble of blood trickle down her chin and reaching up she found she had split her lip. She cursed bitterly in several languages, some not even spoken in the realms, and wiped the blood from her face. Combined with the darkening bruise across her cheek, the Celt looked more and more like a battered wife every day...


At the edge of her hearing Tayana caught the faint sounds of music and laughter and frowned. She was far out in the frontier, whatever could be creating those sounds? Cautiously moving in the direction of the noise, she spied a... a pub? Tayana blinked, then rubbed her eyes. Aye, 'twas a pub alright. Shaking her head in disbelief she came closer, reading the sign above the door. It read, in several languages, some of which she recognized but knew they had no business being in the realms: "The Crossroads Tavern and Inn." Shrugging, she sheathed her broadsword and pushed the door open, and stepped into a room thick with song, laughter, spirits and a scent that held the tantalizing promise of a warm meal. Tayana grinned. As her eyes continued to adjust she began to recognize some of the people spread throughout the tavern; a few members of Nawg seemed to be energetically tearing up the dance floor, Lord Suilebhain and his lady the armorsmith were sharing a table, and the heroine nodded respectfully in their direction. Then she spotted Ayslyn, and burst into laughter. Of course he was here, he had a habit of being everywhere she least expected to see him.


"Welcome te the Crossroads Tavern," a man greeted her. "I be Morden, the barkeep here. 'Fraid I'll need those weapons lass, they're nae allowed 'ere."


Tayana looked down at her armor, cursed under her breath, and raised an eyebrow at Morden. "All the weapons?" she asked.


"Aye, all the weapons," he replied with a nod. Tayana sighed.


"e have a room I could have then?" The barkeep gave her a puzzled look and she smiled slightly. "I've a few... last resort weapons on me, and if ye want 'em, I'll need a room, unless ye want me to strip in the doorway, and I'm much too sober te even consider that right now." Morden laughed, a deep rumbling belly-laugh that reminds a person of old family celebrations and their favorite uncle.


"This way then," he said, directing her to a room.

After having his fill of dancing and ale, Raelian politely excused himself and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. Being inside and seing the people from all three of the waring realms in there, drinking and dancing and making merry almost brought a tear to his eye. It reminded Rae of the stories the Elders used to tell of a glorious time before. A time when all the land was under one High King and peace reigned throughout the realm.


Setting down a full flaggon he has swiped on the way out, Raelian sighed as he looked up at the stars and remembered yet more tales of long ago. Tales like how those who died bravely in battle or somehow did something of great importance to one or many of the clans became a star when they died, and floated up to the sky to shine for those below. Raelian hoped that some day, when his mission was over, that he too would join those stars in the heavens and shine for the generations to come.


As the thoughts passed in his mind he pondered, as he always did, his purpose for joining this war. He wanted to bring peace for the land, to bring it back to the way it was as the height of King Arthur's reign. United under one High King, the land would flourish once again, and farmlands and the fields of the faerie wouldn't become battlegrounds, soaked int he blood of noble warriors. But simply wanting peace would achieve nothing. Wishing for peace and pleading for the other sides to lay down there arms would be futile. Every person had their own idea of how to unite the kingdoms on their own terms, or to keep them apart and let them become autonomous. But the road to peace was a bloody one, with those vieing for power even against their own kin this war would not end anytime soon.


Trailing off from his thoughts Raelian looked down at the still full flaggon in his hands as the sound of merriment and music once again began to reach his ears. Smiling to himself Raelian added to that thought, "But there is still hope." And walked back inside.

Carys watched the knight exit the tavern with a full tankard still in his hand. She smiled as she could hear and feel what he was thinking as he stood and studied the stars.

She stood quietly in the corner near the fire trying to keep warm. She could hear and feel what everyone was experiencing, their joys, their sorrows, their hopes and dreams.

She closed her eyes and stood quietly soaking up everything to keep with her as a memory so she could stay her course and do the work the Goddess had requested.

When she felt she had what she needed, she made a step foreward towrds the door and bumped into someone coming in.

She felt herself stumble and fall backwards

looking up in the face of Raelian.