Irrandor Town
An hour later, Claire pushed Lurian along the rutted dirt streets of the township at the castle’s base. Though she had calmed, her mood was still a little foul from her earlier encounter with the sharp, pretty elf that was Lora’lie. She had no idea what had possessed her to act in such a discourteous manner—especially not in front of Lurian.
‘What in the Faiths is happening to me?’ she thought. First she so wantingly besieged the near helpless Lurian with her lustful intentions. And now this, this intense jealousy? What was she to do? She felt like she was ever so slowly losing control.
Beset by a sudden chill, she noticed that they were now absent the warmth of the sun, thanks to some rather inconsiderate clouds. Concerned, she checked on Lurian. But seeing him looking content, wrapped in his thick wool blanket, she relaxed.
Feeling the urge to shiver, she pulled tight the lapels of her heavy wool coat, protecting herself from the cold winds sweeping in from the west.
“I should have brought my scarf,” she muttered, the heat of her breath becoming small plumes of white in the chill. To distract herself from the lacking warmth, Claire looked around. Irrandor town was less a town and more an expanded hamlet, a collection of practical, squat buildings huddled at the foot of the castle.
Existing solely to serve its imposing neighbor, it was a necessary buffer and supply point for the stronghold guarding the core of the kingdom’s south. Every stone house, every dusty stall, every bundled figure they passed—they were here for a singular purpose: to support the castle, which in turn protected the scattered mining towns dotted throughout the south.
They were heading south—away from the keep, with a quartet of guardsmen trailing but ten paces behind. Claire thought the clumsy crunch of their march an unpleasant echo of their own, serving as a constant reminder that they were not alone.
She could only sigh, for Clair knew the guards were there as the pair’s protectors, and as the entourage to Lurian, the heir to his grandfather's seat; lest he forget. Though complaining in her heart, she knew it was one of the irksome—yet necessary formalities required when leaving the castle alongside Lurian. Though there was little danger, precautions had to be taken given Lurian’s weakened state and his status as an unawakened.
With a steady stride, it took some time to make it all the way across town to the small, tucked-away cottage that served as Nanna and Melkie’s home. It was a sturdy structure, built of large, solid gray stone, sealed together with a lime-based mortar, topped with a thickly thatched roof.
To Claire, it always felt like a beacon of warmth and comfort in Irrandor’s otherwise stark landscape. Nearby, a small creek of clear, fresh water ran down from the slopes of the western mountains; its waters glinting dully in the low light. It served as a vital water source for any of the couple’s needs.
Surrounded by a smattering of trees whose vibrant green was now turning a beautiful array of reds and golds, the cottage struck Claire as an idyllic little piece of paradise—all the couple’s own.
‘Oh, how I envy such a life,’ she mused, feeling a genuine smile spread across her face.
Just being here, amongst the trees, seemed to breathe a fresh breath of life into her. Tasting the sweet, rich scent of pine and sap on the wind Claire felt alive in a way she hadn’t for some time. She knew Lurian felt it too. For his tense shoulders had slowly relaxed as they drew near.
“Oh? Lurian, Claire, how are ya this fine morning?” called a cheerful voice as they came into view. The voice carried the distinct lilt belonging to her kind: the Alf’ad-far, or wood-elves.
Sadly, it was something she lacked; having been raised apart from her kin; being all but grown—when first exposed to such a novel manner of speaking. She thought it a shame; she did so enjoy the lyrical bounce to their words.
“Melkie!” Lurian called back in greeting, his voice light, lighter than she had heard in days. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Melkie emerged from the banks of the river. He was a quarter wood-elf and looked the part. He was handsome, tall, and lean, with a ruddy face framed by a mop of unruly brown hair. He clutched a well-worn wooden pipe in one hand, whilst the other casually held a string of freshly caught fish—their scales still shimmering faintly.
The half-ven wore a patched tunic and sturdy breeches, looking every inch the self-sufficient woodsman. His amber eyes twinkled with a bright, cheeky warmth—she so rarely saw in the castle.
As he approached, Melkie’s spark faded as he gave the wheel-bound Lurian a quick once-over with his eyes. He had been with Nanna for years, the couple together well before Nanna left the lord’s employ. So he had been present throughout both their youths, and through Nanna—he was well aware of what sort of life Lurian lived within the confines of those high walls.
Claire knew Melkie pitied Lurian; she could see it in the way his gaze lingered; a flicker of sorrow hidden amidst the cheer. He was one of the few men within their small town that could truly say he held contempt for the local lord; having expressed as much, thinking the na-ven cruel and heartless for what he had done—and continued to do—to Lurian, the ven’s own grandson.
“How are ya this fine day?” he asked, his voice thick with that familiar lilt.
Lurian smiled. “Well, as you can see, I’ve been better,” he joked, a wry twist to his lips. Looking about, he asked, “Where’s Nanna?”
Maintaining his cheer, Melkie hipped forward and replied, “Oh, she’s just inside. I’m sure she’s heard us yakking out here by now and will soon be out.”
“What was that—husband of mine? I didn’t quite catch it,” came Nanna’s smooth, familiar voice from the dwelling’s entrance. It was warm and clear, even over the soft murmur of the nearby creek.
Nanna stepped out; her strong, intelligent face broke into a warm smile upon seeing them. She was a tall, comely human woman; her dark hair—streaked with silver—was pulled back into a neat, practical bun. The woman wore a simple but well-made dark blue dress, covered by a practical leather apron, suggesting she’d been busy.
Claire felt a swell of affection when she laid eyes on the human. With Nanna being something of a mother to all those that grow up in the castle, her presence was a welcome comfort, anchoring them in tough times.
“Nothing, my love, just regaling young Lurian with tales of your sharp wit and stunning beauty,” Melkie said, throwing a cheeky wink Lurian’s way.
Smiling, Claire noticed Lurian too trying to suppress a chuckle. It was a rare and welcome sight—given his state.
The older woman marched over, ignoring her husband’s antics. After years of married life, she had grown rather immune to the man’s flattery, and she was far more interested in her guests than any of his fawning retorts.
“Oh, would you look at you pair, so beautiful, so handsome; it’s been so long,” she said, giving the pair a quick once-over with her warm, assessing eyes.
“Hello, Nanna,” Claire managed, feeling herself brightening in the woman’s presence.
But Nanna’s warmth was not to last, as she frowned down at the blanket covering Lurian’s lower half. “Lurian, what happened to your legs?”
“Oh, this? My legs are fine, Nanna. I’m just recovering after the round of healing that I went through yesterday. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Let me guess, Torvous?” Nanna’s voice hardened slightly, and after receiving a quick nod from Lurian, she continued, “Why—that man has no sense of decency. How he can live with himself given what he has put you through is beyond me.”
“Nanna.” Melkie, wearily glancing at their trailing entourage, interjected gently, “The man’s just a bunt instrument doing what he’s told, and hardly worth your time or concern, my love.” This chapter was copied from NovelPing without permission.
“Why—the man should be ashamed of himself, and so should the lord! But no matter, you are right; they are not worth my time,” a fearless Nanna declared, her gaze firm as she waved a dismissive hand towards the guards.
Though Claire admired Nanna’s courage to speak her mind, she looked back, fearing an enthusiastic guard might take issue with such talk and report it back to their superiors. She and Lurian were by now used to the couple’s subtle, and not-so-subtle, jabs at the castle’s leadership. But the guards? The guards were new recruits; their leanings unknown.
In truth, Claire didn’t think the lord would much care. But Torvous, Torvous was well known for his pettiness when avenging such slights. Thankfully, the four trailing guardsmen just looked awkward and a little out of place after overhearing such candid criticism of their superiors.
Seeing this, Claire’s tense shoulders relaxed; it seemed as though they had collectively decided it wiser to just ignore what they happened to overhear. Hopefully, if asked, they would simply feign ignorance and go on with their day.
“Come, come,” Nanna beckoned, a bright, welcoming smile returning to her face. “I’ve just started on lunch. Claire, do you mind giving me a hand?”
“Not at all, Nanna,” Claire said, readily moving to follow the older woman. ‘Anything to escape the cold,’ she thought, already looking forward to the smell of herbs and woodsmoke from Nanna’s kitchen.
“I’ll be taking young Lurian then,” Melkie said, handing a fish to one of the guards; the man looking a little lost and confused by what appeared to be a blatant bribe. “We can’t have the boy in the kitchen; why, that’s women’s work,” he joked, his eyes twinkling in mirth.
“Oh? Women’s work, huh? Well, whatever, suit yourselves. Lurian, if he gives you any trouble, tell me, and I’ll see to it he’s sorted out.” Though Nanna's tone was playful, Claire knew she meant it. For few were as precious to her as Lurian, and given his state, she imagined she would be no doubt fussing over him all day.
Responding to her matronly fury, Melkie raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Whoa, woman! I’m just taking the young man to cut some firewood. I’ll see to it that the lad comes back in one piece, so don’t-cha worry.”
“You better. Come, Claire, we have women’s work to do,” she said, not forgetting to send a withering glare Melkie’s way as she took leave of their gathering.
“Yeah, I’m gonna be paying for that one all week,” Melkie smirked, not looking the least bit bothered by his wife’s sarcasm. Nor the look of scorn she shot his way. In fact, he seemed to genuinely enjoy such banter, as he was always teasing and needling away at her patients.
“Come—sprout. We got plenty of wood to chop,” he said, wheeling the still-reluctant Lurian away from the cozy cottage and in the direction of the wood shed by the creek; the guards dutifully following behind the departing pair.
Claire—amused by Lurian’s reluctance—only smiled and followed the older woman into the dwelling. The comforting warmth of Nanna’s kitchen already drawing her in as she approached...