It was one of the oldest oaks in these woods, with a girth wider than five men stood shoulder to shoulder and wide, outstretched branches, some of which now grew along the ground, too heavy to remain reaching to the canopy above. The air smelled of fresh earth and damp leaves, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees to bathe them in gentle green light. Greylin stood among the massive roots of the tree, looking up into the twisted branches, feeling a strange, never-before-known sense of peace pour through her. This was where she had been called to. She just didn't know why.

No one else seemed to know why she had been called there either, but her companions seemed just as eager to find out. Kalan'ar, especially, felt a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. As worried as he was for her safety, he trusted in their Goddess to keep her safe - to keep them all safe.

"What happens now?" Luin asked. She was standing further back, watching the dark elves beneath the tree with wary concern, an arrow nocked in her bow just in case.

"We watch and we wait," Hal whispered back, his hand resting against the hilt of his sword. It was morning, and the sunshine alone reassured him all would be well - at least, he hoped so. "Do not do anything hasty, melamin," he warned her quietly. "Wait and see."

Greylin didn't take her eyes off the tree, raising her hand to point into the branches.

"There is something up there," the young drow said. "I cannot reach it."

Beside Greylin, Kalan'ar was trying to ignore the growing animosity he was feeling from the elves. How could he make Greylin believe Anarven was a friendly place when their companions were so distrustful" He wanted to confront them and remind them that Anarven was for everyone - not just for elves or for humans, but a place where those who were lost were welcome. Instead, he kept his silence, vowing to protect Greylin with his life, if it came to it. He did not believe her to be evil; he could not believe it. Not after what he'd witnessed with the wolves.

"Where?" he asked, shielding his eyes so that he could follow her gaze into the tree.

Whether she was aware of the watchfulness of their elven companions or not, Greylin didn't give them any mind.

"It isn't for me," she murmured, as though repeating something playing through her mind, something that drew a faint smile to her face. She pointed again, and there, in the crook of a pair of lower branches was the suggestion of decorative metal ....a hilt of some kind. She glanced at Kalan'ar. "I think it is for you."

"For me?" Kal echoed, brows furrowed in confusion. Why would there be something for him here, in a tree, no less" What did it have to do with the wolves, and perhaps more puzzling, how did Greylin know it was there or that it was intended for him' "I don't understand," he told her quietly.

"She wants you to have it," she said softly. "She wants you to hear her. It's a gift." She couldn't say any more than that, not truly knowing what it was they were doing here. Just that this was somewhere she needed to be, at least for a few more minutes.

She, Kal thought. She who' Eilistraee, the Dark Maiden, or some other deity he was not aware of?

"Who is she?" he asked. Certainly not the Queen of Spiders. She would never leave a gift for one such as him in a place of sunlight on the surface world.

Greylin's hand touched the wide trunk of the old oak, silently asking who it was that had touched her so deeply for so long. The answer brought a suddenly stunning smile to her face, and tears that dripped down her cheeks in happiness. "Mother," she whispered. "She is the Mother."

The Mother of what" Kal wondered, that confused expression still on his face, though he took Greylin at her word. She was definitely sensing something or someone, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to do the same.

"What does she wish of me?" he asked, blinking at the glint of metal amidst the leaves.

"She wants to speak to you," the little drow told him thoughtfully. "But you cannot hear her unless you accept her gift." Her eyes tilted up toward the hilt that was just visible. "That is for you, and you alone, Kalan'ar."

He blinked again, partly at her explanation and partly at the realization that she had called him by name for the very first time. He still was not sure who "she" was, but it seemed she thought well of him, and he did not sense any evil intent. If it was some trick of the Underdark, he would surely know, or so he hoped.

"Very well," he said, peering up at the glint of metal hidden in the tree and nimbly climbing upwards so that he could reach it. He was tall for a drow, but not quite so tall that he could reach the thing without a little climbing.

The moment his hand closed on the hilt, a rush of energy flowed through him, a warmth that felt like the embrace of his own mother. For a moment, something tickled at his mind, and then he heard it clearly ....a feminine tone that could not be mistaken for anything but what it was, a being of great power who bore no ill will toward him.

Welcome, Kalan'ar, son of Faeryl. I have been waiting a long time for you to hear me.

Kal dropped down from the tree to land lightly on his feet, the sword held snugly in his hand, but from the expression on his face, his mind was very far away, captured by the sound of a female voice that only he could hear.

Who are you? he silently asked the voice, as he held the sword aloft, the sunlight dappling through the trees to glint off the blade.

An image formed in his mind, of the most perfect forest he could ever hope to see, of the oldest tree he might ever wish to greet, of roots buried deep in the soil, branches reaching high to the sky, animals and birds and insects making their home everywhere in-between.

I am the Mother of the Forest. All life resides under my hand. Indeed, even the gods answer to me when they harm what is mine.

Kal fell upon his knees, lowering the sword to hold it before him upon upraised hands, reverently, almost as though he was praying or worshipping the tree in front of him. As far as he knew, only he heard the Lady's voice speaking in his head, though he thought Greylin must hear her, too.

Lady, why do you choose me" I have done nothing to be worthy of such a gift, he asked her silently, ice-blue eyes closed as he focused on that image in his mind.

There was a smile in her voice as she answered him, a smile that spread through his body with warm affection.

You showed kindness to my daughter, the first ever to do so in her life. I would ask you to guard her, if you are willing. She knows so little of this world beneath the sun.

Your daughter" he asked, knowing without asking that she meant Greylin. But was she speaking figuratively, or was Greylin truly the daughter of the Mother of the Wood" She is like me, my Lady, he silently explained. She has suffered as I have suffered. I do not wish her to suffer anymore.

Guard her, Kalan'ar son of Faeryl, and she will teach you the ways of the druid as she learns them for herself. Become a guardian of the beasts as she grows to be a guardian of the forest. And I shall always be with you.

I will, Lady. I swear, he replied, the words coming from his heart, more so than his head. He felt his heart swell with pride and purpose and even a strange kind of love that he'd never felt before - not since he'd lost his mother all those years ago.

Above him, a nightingale burst into song, almost a celebration of the covenant agreed between himself and the Mother. Behind him, Luin's head snapped up in surprise - nightingales did not sing this deep in the woods, nor this far into the day. Her eyes sought Hal's in wide-eyed astonishment, dragged back toward the two dark elves as the smaller of the pair raised her hand to the tree above.

There were tears on Kalan'ar's face as he rose to his feet, still holding the sword reverently in his hands. It was the finest blade he'd ever seen - finer even than Hal's elven sword. The grip was carved from a dark reddish wood, the pommel made of steel engraved with the image of a wolf howling at the moon. Below the grip, the cross guard was also that of wolves - a pair of them, leaping at opposite ends and joined at the center, where there sat an inlaid gem, obsidian in color. The blade itself was smooth and strong and sharp. It was a blade worthy of a prince, not of a mere craftsman whose skill could not hope to replicate a sword such as this one.

Beside Luin, Hal startled. He wasn't sure what it was he was witnessing, but he was sure it was something of significance.

"Did he just pull a blade from that tree?" he asked, brows furrowing. For someone who had witnessed many strange events in his life, not the least of which was his arrival in Rhy'Din, this went beyond magic into the realm of the divine.

Luin was nodding slowly, as though the ability to nod was coming from a long way off, her eyes fixed on the pair before the oak.

"And I would swear it wasn't there when we arrived," she said in a shocked tone of her own. "There's no way it could have come from anyone but the Mother, Hal."

"But ..." Hal started, looking bewildered. "They are drow," he whispered, only loud enough for his mate to hear. Unlike other elves, he held no deep hatred of dark elves, never having encountered them before his arrival here, but he had heard stories from others of their evil nature; and yet, he had not sensed any evil from either Kalan'ar or Greylin. "Why would the Mother give him a sword?" he murmured curiously, though he had a feeling they were going to find out.

"So it would seem," Luin agreed, smiling at the pair of them. She inclined her head to Greylin. "I am sorry I mistrusted you. I took you for a drow and nothing more, and that is my failing. I will do better."

Greylin stared at her, utterly bemused by something she had never in her life heard before. "I-I ....thank you."

Hal came up to stand beside Luin. "You have both our apologies, Lady," he offered with a bow of his head. "But the day is growing short, and it will be another hour or so before we reach Anarven. Shall we?" he asked, gesturing with a hand for all of them to continue on.

Surprised and uncertain just why she was being asked if they should continue on, Greylin hugged her new staff a little closer, looking Kalan'ar for some kind of understanding of just what was happening here.

Luin smiled, nodding to herself. She could understand that uncertainty. "These woods are safe," she said. "We'll lead the way."

Hal waited for Luin to take the lead, falling into step behind her, with Greylin next in line and Kalan'ar taking the rear. It was the best place from which he could watch over her, despite Luin's assurance of their safety.

"We will be home soon," Kal told her, his mind swirling with questions, not only about what had just taken place, but about where they were going to go from here. How could he be her protector if he was separated from her and carrying on as the village blacksmith' Would the Council accept her as their new druid, and if so, what happened then" They could not very well claim Nesgrim's home as their own.

"What will happen when we reach your Anarven?" Greylin asked as they walked, moving with seeming better ease now she had a sort of walking stick to steady her.

Overhead, the trees rustled with the movement of many birds, catching the attention of the two elves in front. It was unusual for so many to be moving in the same direction, and there was no sign of any predator driving them on.

Hal noticed the birds but wasn't too sure what to make of it, except that perhaps they had come to greet the new druid now that Nesgrim had apparently passed his duties on to Greylin. "We seem to be gathering a following," he said, with a glance up at the trees overheard.

Luin made an quiet sound of agreement. "They're going ahead of us," she commented to her mate, not even bothering to glance at the dark elven pair behind them. "You remember how Nesgrim's house didn't seem to have been built, exactly?"

"You think they are making her a ....house?" he asked, using the word very loosely, as it didn't quite fit the place where Nesgrim had lived. He had seen enough over the last few days that he didn't discount the possibility. It wasn't every day once witnessed a sword appearing as in a tree, as if from nowhere.

"I think the Mother of the Forest looks after her own," Luin mused, "and I don't think we can possibly say she isn't one of the Mother's now. But Nesgrim was so far from Anarven, and they look like they're going toward the village."

"I suppose we shall see," Hal replied to his mate, before turning a moment to answer Greylin's question, albeit belatedly. "I am not sure I can answer that," he told her, with a serious expression on his face, but not one that looked dire. "It seems the birds are going on ahead of us, for some reason, but we are not sure why."

"They won't hurt anyone," the little drow woman said softly, but not even she could answer quite what the birds were doing. There were other noises in the forest around them, too; it did not seem that it was just the birds being called to wherever it was they were going.

"You are the druid of the forest now, Greylin," Kalan'ar reminded her. "Listen with your heart. What does it tell you?" he asked, believing in her, even if she was unsure of herself. He had heard what the Mother had told him and knew it to be true, however unbelievable it might seem.

She stopped where she stood, folding both her hands about her staff as she closed her eyes, seeking the answer Kal seemed sure she could find. For a long moment she was aware of the three of them watching her, trying to focus her mind away from that awareness with little success. Then the familiar brush of the Mother's mind touched her own, and she found herself filled with a certainty she could not quite explain.

Opening her eyes, her mouth worked for a moment in silence before she said, "They are making a home. There are people watching them."

"The people of Anarven," Hal said. Though he had not seen the vision in her head, it seemed the most likely explanation. "The forest has accepted you as its new druid, and the birds and beasts are doing what they can to make you welcome," he said, doing his best to explain what he believed was happening. He just hoped the villagers would see fit to accept her, too. Anarven was supposed to be a place where all could live in peace, if they so wished. He hoped it would live up to her expectations.

"They will welcome you, Greylin, as they welcomed me," Kal assured her quietly, refusing to believe otherwise.

"If they're watching the birds and beasts of the forest create a home, and see you welcomed to it by them, they'll be idiots if they don't welcome you," Luin added with a smile. "Some may grumble, but you are protected." And she had a feeling she knew where this new house was being settled.

Greylin glanced between them and, for the first time, reached out to slide her hand into Kalan'ar's.

"Would it not be better to have a druid close to the village than one so far away as Nesgrim?" Kalan'ar asked, more statement than question. He blinked in surprise as Greylin's hand found its way to his, and he closed his fingers around hers, liking the way it felt to hold her hand in his.

"Many of the villagers are refugees, like you, like myself," Hal replied. "They have come to Anarven seeking sanctuary - a safe place to live and work and raise their families in peace. Many of them understand what it is to be mistreated and hated, because of what they are. They may be wary of those who are different, but when they come to understand that others only want what they want, they will be welcoming enough. Was it not that way upon your arrival?"

"Yes, but they saw that I was of some use to them. I have a trade," Kal pointed out.

"Do you really believe it is only your skill as a blacksmith that makes you welcome in Anarven?" Hal asked, in reply.

Luin smiled faintly as they spoke. "Kal, do you remember when the elves of Ilyethlin joined us in Anarven?" she asked, reminding Kalan'ar that he had actually lived in their village longer than many of the pure blooded elves there. "Very few of them had skills to offer us, but we still made space for them. Because they needed a home. That is why we created Anarven, to be a home for those who have none, and so long as our people remain tolerant of one another, Anarven will always be open to everyone."

"I remember," Kal replied. "It is hard sometimes to remember that I ..." He broke off a moment so that he could correct himself. "That we are free. That the people of Anarven do not look down on us, simply because we are different. It is not how things were where I am from," he said, though that much was obvious. "Even surface dwellers looked on us with suspicion and hatred. They did not trust us, merely because we are drow." It was rare that he made any mention of his past, and even so, nothing he said would come as a surprise to any of his companions.

"Where I am from, it was the humans who hated us," Hal volunteered. "They grew jealous of our long life spans and were fearful of our abilities. They did not live long enough to remember how we had helped them, befriended them, and as our numbers dwindled, their hatred grew, but here in Anarven, we live together with humans and drow in harmony and peace."

"Just as the Dark Maiden would wish it," Kal added quietly.

"We never saw what hated us so much," Luin offered. "But it was hatred that destroyed my people. For as long as I live, I will try to be welcoming to everyone of good will who has been cast out for no reason."

Greylin glanced between them all, almost surprised to learn that even surface dwellers had their troubles with bigots and hatred. "It ....it is good to build a safe place," she ventured uncertainly. "I will try to serve as you desire."

"They will see past their prejudices and learn to know you for who you are," Hal was quick to assure her. And if not, they would have to answer to the Council and risk banishment from the village, but she did not have to know that yet.

"Out of interest, Greylin," Luin asked as they continued on their way, accompanied all the while by the sound of birds and beasts moving through the forest. "How old are you?"

The dark elven woman bit her lip, glancing up at Kalan'ar. "I believe I ....I think I am not yet one hundred."

"Nor am I," replied Kalan'ar, offering Greylin a small smile. He had already assumed she was young, but he had not realized how close in age they were.

"Ah, youth," Hal said, winking over at Luin, without divulging his own age.

Greylin seemed almost relieved to hear Kal mention that he was not so very old either.

"But ..." She bit down on her objection, not wanting to earn herself another gentle scolding from Kal for referring to herself as a slave.

"No buts," Aran said, before either of the elves could protect. He refused to think of them as drow; they were elves, just of a slightly different bloodline than those who usually lived on the surface. "There is plenty to go around, and we are more than willing to share. You will have the chance to do the same for someone else, given time," he assured her. "Come, let's see what your new home looks like, shall we?"

The little field mouse scampered down, out of Alu's hands, to disappear among the fleeing animals and birds who seemed to have completed their task in time for the people of Anarven to furnish the new home and stock it with food and everything else the new druid would need. Greylin's hand stole back into Kalan'ar's grasp once, clinging to the only person she knew with absolute certainty she could trust among so many surface-dwellers.

Kalan'ar smiled as her hand found his again, and they let Aran and Carina lead the way to what was presumably going to be their new home. Not her new home, but their new home. He wasn't sure how that was going to work out, but the thought of living together under the same roof was as exciting as it was awkward. As much as he tried to fight it, he couldn't help feeling attracted to her. That wasn't making him feel any more comfortable about living under the same roof.

"This is the first time I know of that the woodland creatures have welcomed anyone this way," Aran was saying as he led the way.

"When the Mother chooses her representative, a home is made for them," Carina mused. "At least, that's what my father says. But he's never been dedicated to the Mother, so I'm not entirely sure where he learned that from."

As they followed the two half-elves to the newly made cottage, Greylin could feel the curiosity in the eyes of the men and elves and dwarves and halflings who watched them, seeing her staff and recognizing her as a new druid even before they knew her name.

"Why are they staring?" she whispered to Kal worriedly.

"Because they are curious," Kal replied, tilting his head toward hers and whispering back, but before they reached the cottage, Aran and Carina came to a halt in front of the small crowd that had gathered. Some were merely curious, while others had come out to lend a hand in providing a comfortable home for the newcomers.

"Quel re, mellonea," Aran greeted the group, smiling amicably. "I'm sure you are all anxious to meet our new druid. She has been chosen by the Mother to make her home here, and it is our duty and honor to welcome her to our village." He turned to Greylin and waved her closer.

Left with little choice but to obey, Greylin stepped forward, reluctantly letting go of Kal's hand as she stood beside Aran, deeply uncomfortable with so many eyes on her.

"But she's a drow," an elderly male voice objected from within the crowd, shushed sharply by others around him.

"All are welcome in Anarven," Aran reminded them, looking from one face to another. "Many of us have come here in hopes of living a peaceful life, free from hatred and injustice. Free to live our lives and raise our families in peace. You all know this and accepted it when you chose to make Anarven your home. If we start judging people based on anything but their character, then we are no better than those whose oppression we struggled to escape. And who are we to question the Mother" Is there anyone here who would deny what we've witnessed here today' The Mother has clearly chosen the Lady here as her representative. The woodland creatures have welcomed her. We can do no less, or risk offending the Mother. If there is anyone here who would question the Mother, let them step forward and say so, in front of all to witness."

No one spoke, but there was a lingering tension in the air, a sense that not everyone was as tolerant as those that had founded Anarven or embraced it. Greylin felt the warmth of the Mother's touch and, surprising even herself, raised her head.

"My name is Greylin," she told the little crowd hesitantly. "I was born a drow, yes. But I am not my mother's daughter, and there is no drow that would acknowledge me as anything more than the dirt on their blade."

She went on, telling them of the fall of her House in Eryndlyn, of her grandmother's madness and the slaying of her sisters and aunts; of Lolth's punishment on her grandmother, and her own breaking; of her life as a slave, and what kind of slave she had been made in her later adolescence. Of her escape to the surface, and her year in captivity. By the time she was done, her voice was hoarse, and she was looking down at her feet, ashamed of her own being for having lived so long with so much indignity.

Aran frowned as he listened to Greylin's story, turning to watch the villagers, looking from one face to another in hopes some of the harder hearts in the group would soften at her story. If they could only get past the fact that she was a drow and welcome her as they had welcomed other newcomers before her - as they had welcomed him.

"I am sorry you have had to endure so much suffering, Lady. I pray that you find peace and healing. I am sure I am not alone in welcoming you to Anarven and wishing you a happy life here," Aran said in a quiet voice, taking both her hands in his in welcome. Mae govannen, Greylin."

Startled to find Aran taking her hands, Greylin visibly flinched back from the unexpected touch, forcing herself to allow it despite her desire to escape. "I will serve as best I can," she promised quietly, still looking down.

"But you must be tired," Aran continued, saying nothing about the fact that she wouldn't meet his gaze. "Perhaps you and your Guardian would like to rest. There is still much to do, and the Council will want to meet you, as well. I will have food and drink brought to your new home, and then you can rest, while I speak with the Council."

"Savin' your presence, highness," a robust voice said, drawing his gaze to a matronly halfling woman near the front of the little crowd. "We stocked up the larder in there. They've everything they'll need, right down to bed sheets and towels." She cast a glance over her shoulder at the male elf who had objected aloud and then added pointedly, "My name's Elvana, and you can come to me if'n you need anything, Miss Greylin. You too, Kal."

Kal spoke for the first time, offering a grateful nod to the woman.

"Thank you, Elvana," he told her, a slightly nervous smile on his face.

He had not been the most popular person in the village at first, but once they realized he was both harmless and helpful, he'd been accepted well enough. Still, he'd mostly kept to himself, content with the quiet, even if it was a bit lonely.

"We'll all leave you be to settle into your new home, then," Carina said, holding Aluviel close on her hip as she smiled at the dark elven pair. "No one will disturb you or interrupt your peace until tomorrow at the earliest. You have time, and you have peace, and someone will bring your belongings, Kal."

Kal's brows arched upwards as the princess addressed him, still having a hard time believing his life was changing once again. "But who will take care of the shop?" he asked, worrying more about that than about his personal belongings. Was he no longer a blacksmith then" How was he going to earn a living, if he wasn't"

"You already damped down the forge before you left yesterday," Carina reminded him, one eye on the crowd as they began, reluctantly, to file away and back toward the village. "There is nothing to say we cannot build a new forge here and transfer your anvil and tools to this place. But for today, and tomorrow, we will live without our blacksmith. Because someone else needs him rather more than we do right now." Her gaze flickered toward Greylin, who had reclaimed her hands from Aran but still stared at the ground between them.

"I should take an apprentice," Kal remarked, mostly to himself. He didn't mind being the village blacksmith, but it seemed his responsibility for Greylin took precedence now, and it wouldn't hurt to have more than one blacksmith.

"Good idea," Aran said, overhearing Kal's suggestion. "I'll ask around."

"I think we should leave you to settle in peace," Carina said softly, touching Aran's back with a gentle hand.

On her hip, Alu frowned, looking around. "No mo' birbs?"

"Maybe later, winimo," Aran assured his daughter, with a smile and a tweak of her cute, little nose. "Would you excuse me" I need to speak with Hal and Luin a moment," he said, mostly to Kal and Greylin, allowing Carina to choose whether she wanted to come along or not. He had said it would only take a moment, after all.

Greylin still stood alone, staring at the ground. Carina frowned, touching Kalan'ar's arm.

"She seems overwhelmed," she murmured softly. "What about you, how are you taking all this?"

Aran stepped away so that he could confer with the elves and arrange for eyes to be kept on the new home on the edge of the village. Kal and Greylin didn't need to know that Aran was a little worried about their safety, despite his assurances that Anarven was a peaceful village. Kal frowned as his attention was directed to Greylin - as if he hadn't noticed all this already. Though he might not say so, he was all too aware of Greylin's presence beside him and of her lingering silence. She had said a lot already - perhaps too much. It hurt his heart to know she had suffered as she had, but he was unsure if he should say so.

It took him a moment to understand her meaning before he realized she was referring also to him. He felt that rush of blood to his face again, though it hardly showed with his dark complexion. "We should thank her together," he said, reminding her that he, too, suddenly had much to be thankful for.

"I do not know how to do that," she admitted in a quiet tone. "The only god I have ever worshiped was Lolth, and I was never devoted to her. But this Mother ....I would willingly give my soul to her if she asked."

Kal could not help shudder at the mention of her soul. "I do not think she would expect anything so drastic, but perhaps, dedicating our lives to her service?" he suggested, wondering if this meant he would have to give up his devotion to Eilistraee. That made him frown worriedly. He had her to thank for his freedom, or so he believed. Should he worship them both"

Greylin tilted her head, drawn in by his sudden frown. "What is it?" she asked, her hand hovering between them, as though she wanted to touch his arm but did not quite dare to. "What is wrong?"

He shook his head, as if to shake the worry from his mind, but it didn't quite work. "I was just thinking about ..." He broke off momentarily, unsure if he should tell her what was bothering him. "My mother was a Sword Dancer. Do you know what that is?"

She shook her head in turn, unaware of the ins and outs of a religion she only knew about because of other slaves that had mentioned the name of the Dark Maiden. Eilistraee was remembered in drow culture, but few in the Underdark worshiped her.

Kal hesitated a moment. He had never spoken of this to anyone before - not even to those who had welcomed him to Anarven. And yet, the Mother - or whoever it was that had spoken to them in the woods and made this house - had known more about him than he had ever dared tell anyone. She had known about his mother, and now Greylin would know, too. "Sword Dancers are priestesses of Eilistraee." Did he really need to explain more than that"

"Oh." She didn't seem perturbed by the idea. "Are you a priest of Eilistraee?" she asked, more curious than disturbed, not truly understanding where his conflict came from.

"No, only females can be Sword Dancers," he explained, though that hardly explained his conflict. Or maybe it resolved it. If he could not be a Sword Dancer, then perhaps it didn't matter if he was not entirely dedicated to Eilistraee, after all. He sighed, pushing silver-white hair away from his face. "I am not sure what she wants of me, other than to be your Protector."

Greylin studied him for a long moment before comprehension seemed to dawn on her. "You think you must give up one in favor of the other?" she asked in confusion. "Why' Even in the Underdark, there is a pantheon of gods. They believe in all of them, they worship all of them. But just because they serve one does not mean they no longer serve the others. Would Eilistraee or the Mother truly ask that you turn your back on the other?"

Put that way, his worries seemed foolish, even to him. "I suppose not," he admitted. "It's just all so sudden," he said, admitting to his own confusion, though he didn't want to dampen her excitement. "I am not sure what is expected of me," he said, though it seemed clear enough that he was to be her Guardian and Protector, though why she needed one, he wasn't too sure.

She hesitated, realizing she was twisting her hands together. She stilled her fingers, pressing her hands to her stomach. "I have changed your life," she said quietly. "And not for the better. I am sorry, Kalan'ar."

He blinked in surprise at her apology. That was not what he'd meant at all; just the opposite, in fact. "I'm not," he admitted bluntly. He stepped closer, reaching out to brush a single finger against her hand. "If you will let me, we will sort it out together."

This close, he was privileged to see her cheeks darken in an unexpected blush - unexpected to her, that is. She had never reacted to a simple touch like that before, but perhaps it was because Kal was gentle, unassuming. He was very different from every other drow she had ever met. Greylin nodded slowly, raising worried eyes to him.

"I do not know anything about ....anything useful," she confessed. "I was always given meals and kept inside. I do not know how to cook or clean or anything."

"I am not sure the Goddess meant for me to be cook and maid, but I will do what I can to help you," he said, the barest hint of a smirk on his face, almost as if he was teasing her. "She asked me to look after you, and that is what I promised to do."

"I didn't mean that you ....I can learn, I simply do not know where to ..." She trailed off, tilting her head at the look on his face. "You are teasing me."

"I suppose I am," he said, smiling, surprised to realize that himself. He could not remember the last time he'd smiled so much, and he certainly could not ever remember teasing anyone in a very long time. "Try not to worry, Greylin. We will sort this out together."

"I will try," she promised. "I do not know quite what a druid is, or what one does, but I will learn." She almost smiled, her expression tight in that moment before a smile appears for a brief second before relaxing once more. "What are we supposed to do?"

"The princess said we should do something enjoyable, but I am not sure what that is," he said, furrowing his brows again in consideration. Carina had suggested fishing, but he wasn't sure Greylin would find that enjoyable. He knew he should probably show her around the village, but somehow he didn't like that idea either. In fact, fishing seemed far more enjoyable than being stared at all day.

Greylin stared at him thoughtfully. "I ....I do not know what that means," she admitted awkwardly. "What do you enjoy doing, Kalan'ar?"

He shrugged, at a loss for a response. His work didn't leave him much time for anything other than eating and sleeping, and it had been a very long time since he'd had either the time or the freedom to do whatever he wanted. "I don't know," he replied honestly. Or he just didn't remember.

"Oh." She didn't know how to respond to that, standing there in speechless silence for a long moment. Then she drew in a breath, gesturing toward the doors. "There are other rooms to look at?"

He followed her gaze toward the unopened doors, feeling a little guilty for unintentionally putting the damper on her excitement. "Yes," he replied, assuming there was at least a bedroom or two they had not seen yet.

There were, in fact, two bedrooms that connected to one another through the first door, both wide and blessed with large, but simply furnished beds. The second door was to a hallway that held what seemed to be guest rooms or workshops, rooms that could be put to any use at all. And the third lead to a spacious bathroom. Greylin's mouth and eyes formed a trio of "o"s as she looked around in amazement.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Kal asked, almost as amazed as she was. Nice wasn't really the word. It was much more than merely nice. He hadn't enjoyed such luxury as this since the drow had attacked his village, killed his mother, along with half the village, and taken the survivors captive. "It feels like a dream," he murmured. But it wasn't was it' It was real. At least, he hoped it was real - and he hoped she was real, too. He turned his gaze toward her. She was nice, too, though once again, nice wasn't really the right word.

"It is so ....so much more than a slave could dare to hope for," she whispered, for she had been a slave for too long to simply push that feeling of her identity aside. "It is beautiful."

"You weren't born a slave, Greylin," he reminded her, just as he hadn't either. "Do you remember ....before?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost as if he was afraid to ask that question or afraid to hear her answer.

Her fingers brushed over the smoothness of the sheets on the bed beside her. "A little," she said, looking down at the soft fabric. "I was ten years old, I think, when the House fell. But I don't remember there being anything to miss about the time before then. I remember them forcing me to kill my kobold, because I was too attached to it."

He winced, not because he had any fondness for kobolds, but because a child, drow or not, shouldn't be expected to do such a thing as kill her own pet. "I'm sorry," he said, reaching to tangle his fingers with hers in hopes of providing a little comfort and then an idea came to mind. A single, brilliant, amazing idea - or at least, it might be, if she liked it. "I have an idea."

"People think that females born to a high House have an easy life, but they don't." She let out a soft sigh, seeming to startle just a little when his fingers tangled with hers. But startled or not, she didn't pull away, slipping her own fingers into place as her eyes lifted to meet his. "What idea?"

"It's a surprise," he told her, that teasing smirk on his face again, ice blue eyes bright with amusement or excitement or both. It was a brighter smile than any he'd given her yet. But the logistics of the surprise were going to be a little complicated.

Her head tilted, charmed by his smile yet still wary of showing her own. "What do you need me to do?" she asked, glad to see him brighter, at the very least.

"Nothing, just ....A cloak perhaps, and a basket," he said, eyes searching the bedroom for said items. He would have to speak with Hal and Luin, too, but he thought his idea was do-able.

The chest and closet were stocked with clothing that seemed spun all from natural fibers, clothing for them both provided by the Mother's hand. Greylin opened one door of the closet to look inside in search of a cloak, and felt an unexpected urge to try on something from within. Something that would fit her like a glove. She glanced at Kal uncertainly. "May I ....may I change my clothing?"

"You do not need to ask my permission to do anything," he assured her, hoping it didn't take too long for her to understand what it meant to be free. He remembered when he'd first escaped the Underdark; how he was looking over his shoulder all the time and worrying that he was going to be dragged back there, but his experience as a slave had been different than hers.

He frowned once again at the way she insisted on addressing him. "I am not your master, Greylin." In point of fact, he wondered if he shouldn't rightfully addressing her as Mistress. "You may call me Kalan'ar ....or if you prefer, Kal."

She opened her mouth to object, and seemed to catch herself, some internal voice telling her not to argue when he was right. "Kalan'ar, then," she said, not quite certain enough of him to dare shortening his name in such a familiar way. "You may call me whatever you wish."

The corners of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. He had already dubbed her "little bird" in their native tongue, though he wasn't too sure he should presume to continue doing so. "Shall I call you Mistress, Mistress?" he asked, unable to resist teasing her a little.

Though it was a tease, it made her flinch, remembering the cruelty of the race she had been born to and their insistence on declaring themselves superior in many, many ways. "I ....no." She shook her head firmly. "I am no one's mistress, I am not like them!"

His smile faded as she took offense to his teasing. "I am sorry, Greylin. I was only teasing," he said, a light touch to her hand in hopes of reassuring her. "I, too, do not wish to be anyone's Master."

"No, I am sorry," she said, her hand turning beneath his to squeeze gently. "You are not like them. I should not have reacted like that. I will try harder."

"It is strange being free, is it not?" he asked, sympathetically. He'd been free for a few years now, but the nightmares haunted him still. He knew it could not be much different for her. "We will learn together," he said, giving her hand an answering squeeze, a soft smile on his face, kind and caring.

"I am afraid." The words were whispered, a reluctant admission of weakness that would have instantly been punished in the Underdark. Greylin stared fixedly at his chest as she spoke, still almost under her breath. "What if they find me?"

Tentatively and gently, he lifted her chin so that she could meet his gaze. "I will protect you," he told her plainly. He did not mean it lightly; he intended to protect her so long as she needed and wanted him to, even if it proved to be a lifetime.

Violet eyes met ice blue, calm yet worried. "I do not want you to be hurt," she admitted in a soft tone. "You have been kind to me. The only one to have been kind to me with no expectation of anything in return."

"The Lady gave me this sword, so that I can protect you," he reminded her, with an almost reverent touch to the sword at his side. "I can do no less than what she asks," he said, preferring to refer to the "Mother" as the "Lady", for some reason, though he knew she was not the "Dark Maiden."

Was that disappointment in her eyes for a brief moment' It was gone too quickly to make certain, replaced with the familiarly inexpressive calmness that she wore most of the time.

"Of course," she agreed quietly. "Could we go walking now?"

He thought he spied a hint of sadness or disappointment in her eyes, but it was gone too quickly for him to be sure. Had he not said the proper thing" Should he have told her that he would have protected her anyway, even if the Mother hadn't tasked him with doing so'

"Yes, of course," he agreed, offering his arm, though she hardly needed it.

Her small hand curled to his arm, appreciating the offer even if she did not truly need the support. Together, they passed out through the door, Greylin glancing back and still mildly disbelieving of how small the house looked from the outside, knowing now what she did of the inside. "It is amazing."

"It is Rhy'Din," he explained with a shrug of his shoulders as his gaze followed hers. He had no other explanation for it. It was magic, of course, but even he did not understand how it all worked. It was certainly not like any drow magic he had ever encountered.

"Rhy'Din is ....this forest?" she asked, tilting her gaze back to him as they began to walk, away from the little house and the stockade around the village and beneath the trees.

"No, Rhy'Din is ..." He paused a moment to consider his words. Rhy'Din was confusing, that much was certain, but how to explain" "The name of this world is Rhy'Din, as is the name of the land where we live and the city not far from here, but this place - this village - is known as Anarven."

"The world, and this land, and one city, are all named with one name?" she asked, trying to make certain she understood. "But this small piece is Anarven. I see. What does Anarven mean?"

"Yes," he replied, with a small nod of his head as he followed her into the trees, ignoring the curious stares of the villagers. He smiled at her question, assuming she'd like the answer. "Anarven means 'Sanctuary'."

She did, indeed, like that answer, her lips curving ever so slightly in response to this news. "That is ....good," she said, still holding to his arm as they walked. "I am glad to have found sanctuary."

"I am glad, too," he replied, smiling back. Though he was certainly glad to have found Anarven, he was just as glad that she'd found it, as well - or that they had found her and brought her here. Who knows what might have happened to her, if they hadn't' He'd have to thank the Prince for that later.

"The ....the princess, I think you called her ....she said you were a blacksmith," Greylin said suddenly, tilting her head toward him. "What does that mean' Do you make things that are black?"

He smiled at the innocence of her question, only briefly wondering if she'd noticed the roughness of his hands - the calluses and the grime he could never quite seem to get rid of, no matter how hard he scrubbed his hands. "No, I make things that are made of metal," he explained. "Tools, mostly. Nails, horseshoes." It was rare he was commissioned to make any blades, though he was capable.

She blinked, looking at him in surprise. "Horses wear shoes?" she asked. "I have never seen a horse. Why do they need metal shoes" Do they have terrible feet?"

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face her with an incredulous look on his face. "You have never seen a horse?" he echoed, only belatedly realizing that she'd never had the opportunity to see one. "You will see some horses in the village," he assured her. Of course, that went without saying, since there was no point in making horseshoes, if there were not horses to shoe. "It is hard to explain why they need shoes," he said, brows furrowed as he considered her question. He could see she was going to need a lot of teaching.

"I would assume they are necessary if they require a person's time and energy to create such shoes," Greylin mused. "But you said you work with metal. Surely shoes are like these?" She wiggled her foot for a moment. "These are not metal, are they?"

"No, I believe those are leather," he said, hoping she didn't ask more than that. He was no tanner, but he didn't think she'd want to know that a doe had once had to sacrifice her life for the making of those boots. "Horseshoes are made of metal. They are designed to protect a horse's hooves," he explained, though his explanation probably prompted more questions than answers.

"What does a horse do that requires it to have such a sturdy material for its shoes?" she asked, more curious than ever, but a little wary of annoying him with her ignorance.

She was far from annoying him, though answering her questions was certainly a challenge. There was a thoughtful expression on his face before answering. "Horses ....It is hard to explain. Perhaps I should just show you," he suggested, though there were no horses around at the moment. "Later."

"I would like to see it," she admitted, her expression softer as she looked around at the greenery that was budding forth with the coming of spring. "Is that water I can hear?"

"Who is Raniel?" she asked. It would take time for her to understand the names that belonged to the whole village, but that was one name she should probably learn quickly.

"He is the Princess' father," Kal explained, though as far as he knew, Raniel was not himself of noble birth. "I am not certain, but I believe a druid is a protector of sorts for the forest and forest animals." Or for whatever clime they chose to live in.

"Oh, I see." She didn't, but she was not sure she wanted to talk about people right now. The sensation of little paws on her knee made her look down, to find a whiskered face looking up at her. "And what are you?"

Kal looked startled to find yet another creature had found its way over to greet its new druid. He blinked down at the little furry thing, a little surprised to find the creature inspecting her so boldly. "I think he - or she - likes you," he told her. He wasn't sure which the creature was without inspecting it further.

It was a silver ferret, sleek and very young, climbing up onto Greylin's thigh before raising itself up onto its hind legs, swaying as it sniffed and inspected her. Without a second thought, she lifted her hand toward it, giggling quietly when it caught one of her fingers and gently nibbled on the tip. "I like them," she said to Kal, glancing up at him. "What is it?"

"A ferret, I think," he replied, not as knowledgeable about the forest animals as some others, but knowledgeable enough. "They are friendly, I think. This one certainly is," he told her, uncertainly. He was a blacksmith, after all. Animals were not his specialty

The ferret lifted its head to look up at Kal, dropping to all fours to scamper up Greylin's arm and onto her shoulder, rising onto its back legs again from beneath her hair as it inspected the dark elf male.

"Hullo there, little one," Kal greeted the ferret, offering one hand, palm upwards, for inspection. Perhaps they wouldn't have to go into town to adopt a pet, after all. There were plenty of animals here who seemed tame and friendly enough, if they were willing. He didn't dare dream of taking any of them away from their homes against their will.

Or perhaps there was no need for a pet at all. The birds and beasts of the forest seemed drawn to them, none fleeing in fear at their approach. Indeed, as the little ferret sniffed at Kal's hand, a gentle nudge at his elbow turned out to be a doe, seeking a hello of her own. Greylin's smile finally blossomed, and stayed blossoming, as creatures pressed in around them, eager to introduce themselves to their new guardians.

Kal turned his head at the nudge to his elbow, brows arching upwards again. He had a feeling the animals had come around to greet their new druid, not him, and yet, perhaps they sensed that he, too, had been touched by the Mother of the Forest - or whoever she was.

"They seem eager to meet us," he remarked, putting voice to his thoughts.

Greylin had a lapful of small, furry creatures - rabbits, mice, voles, ferrets, stoats. A fox was snuffling at her hair as she looked up at Kal, her expression shining with genuine innocent pleasure.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

Above them, the trees were growing heavy with the presence of birds, filling the air with chirping calls.

Kal glanced overhead to find the trees filled with birds of every kind, the woods teeming with curious onlookers who, though abundant, seemed harmless enough. He was suddenly all too aware of the sword strapped to his hip, though he had no intentions of using to against any of the creatures of the wild.

"That is not the word I would have chosen," he said, not volunteering an alternative.

It was strange to see so many predators and prey side by side, more focused on greeting the two elves than they were on fulfilling their natural roles. But the pushing was growing a little much for Greylin. She shook her head suddenly.

"Enough," she whispered. "Please, I-I can't ..."

In a deafening flap of many wings, the birds took off; the animals scampered away, not moving in fear but more in obedience to the druid's awkwardness. All that remained were the silver ferret, a cheeky-eyed raccoon, and the pair of sparrows that had started it all, sitting demurely on a branch next to Kal's shoulder.

Kal, too, was starting to feel crowded by the press of creatures, as innocuous as they seemed, and though startled by the flap and flutter as they departed, he exhaled a sigh of relief. "I have never seen such a thing as that before," he said, both awed and intimidated by the display. His lips twitched into a smile though to find a few hangers-on.

"It seems you have made a few friends," he said, glancing first at her lap and then over his shoulder at the pair of sparrows who'd been the first to greet them.

"As have you," she pointed out, wincing a little as the raccoon tugged at her hair. "What do you want?" The raccoon chattered up at her, wriggling its paws like fingers, and went over backwards as the ferret pounced it playfully.

"Greylin, it is nothing short of miraculous," he said, clearly in awe of what was happening around them and what had happened to them in the last few days. All of it was clearly because of her though, that much he knew for sure. "Do you-do you understand what he ....she ....is saying?" he asked, as he looked back at her and the chattering raccoon.

"No," she admitted, watching as the ferret and the raccoon rolled about, apparently thoroughly enjoying playing together. "I do not even know which are male and which are female." She looked over at him, far more relaxed than she had been before now. "Though I think it is fair to say that those two have certainly adopted you."

He looked over his shoulder again at the pair of birds nestled on a branch close by. "Do you think so?" he asked, a pleased smile on his face, which made him look almost boy-like in appearance. "What do we do with them?" he added, uncertainly.

Greylin seemed to consider this for a long moment. "They are still wild creatures," she said thoughtfully. "I do not think we need to do anything. It is their choice if they wish to come home with us, or simply visit with us regularly. I have no wish to cage any creature."

"Nor do I," Kal agreed, though he had been considering adopting a pet for her. Perhaps that was no longer necessary, given the plethora of animals who had befriended her. Either way, it seemed she would never lack for companionship, at least of the wild variety. He unbuckled the sword at his hip and set it to rest against a tree so that he could sink down onto the grass beside her. "This is a quiet place," he said, taking another look around. "It is a good place."

"I have never known peace like this," she confessed softly, trailing her fingertips through the water, this time stroking the backs of the fish that wriggled through her touch. "Is this what belonging feels like?"

"I am not sure," Kal replied, honestly enough. He wasn't sure if he'd ever felt like he belonged anywhere, but perhaps belonging wasn't so much a place as it was a feeling. "This place reminds me of home," he said quietly, his thoughts drifting countless years backwards.

"What was it like, your home?" she asked, her curiosity piqued now she knew he had been born on the surface, that his mother had been a priestess of Eilistraee. It was so far from her own experience that she envied him such a gentle beginning.

"It was very ....green," he said, after a moment's hesitation, as if he was in search of the right word. "Quiet, peaceful ....tranquil. We lived in peace there, until ..." He trailed off. He was sure she could use her imagination to fill in the blanks there.

She could. Greylin nodded sadly, one hand reaching out hesitantly to touch his. "I am sorry," she said, taking the blame for what had been done to him by members of her race entirely onto her own shoulders.

He shrugged, not because he wanted to shrug away from her touch, but because nothing could be done to change the past. "What is done is done. We must learn to accept the past and hope for a better future," he told her, with a faint smile.

She showed him her soft smile in return, glad that there was a future for them both to look to. A tiny paw touched his thumb, as another small paw touched her knuckles, drawing her gaze down to find the ferret and the raccoon holding their hands as they held each others'. She giggled quietly, raising her hand to pet the raccoon's head affectionately. "That is rather adorable."

"It is, isn't it?" Kal asked, though he was not referring to the animals, as his gaze remained on her. Perhaps adorable was not quite the word one should choose to describe her, but at the moment, it seemed to fit perfectly. Suddenly, he understood what it was he'd been feeling earlier, as he was overcome by a sudden urge to kiss her.

Perhaps luckily, she was nose to nose with the raccoon as he watched her, clicking her tongue as it nipped her nose gently, oblivious to the sudden longing in Kal's eyes. One of the sparrows chirped softly, bouncing from the branch onto his shoulder to nip at his cheek affectionately.

Distracted by the nip, he almost unconsciously batted a hand at the bird before stopping himself in mid-air.

Watching the pair roll about play-fighting, Greylin was still giggling as she considered the furry ones. "I think Jester for the ferret?" she suggested, tilting her head toward Kal. "He makes me laugh."

"It fits!" Kal said, nodding his head in approval and chuckling again at the ferret's antics. Was it any wonder he found himself growing more fond of the animals than he was of most people"

"But what about you?" the little drow woman asked softly, reaching out to separate the warring pair and lift the raccoon onto her lap. This earned her a happy little chitter as the masked creature nuzzled into her arms. "What should I call you, I wonder?"

"Rascal?" Kal suggested, though the choice was ultimately up to her. That name - or something like it - seemed to fit the raccoon's playful and slightly mischievous behavior.

The ferret scrambled up her back, leaning down from her shoulder to scold the raccoon, who scolded him right back again, leaving Greylin giggling all over again. "I had thought perhaps something like Zephyr, but that seems rather too dignified for her."

"Oh, it's a lady raccoon!" Kal exclaimed, chuckling at his own mistake. "I had no idea. I apologize most profusely, my lady," he told the raccoon, bowing only his head, as he didn't want to disturb the pair of birds currently on his shoulder.

Distracted from her surprisingly vocal disagreement with Jester, the raccoon turned her head toward Kal and chittered happily, apparently forgiving him for his mistake. Greylin's smile grew. "I think Peppercorn suits you," she informed the raccoon gently. "Spicy and sweet."

"You are clearly better at naming than I am," Kal said. Or at least, more creative at it, though "Chipper" and "Queenie" didn't seem to mind the names he had dubbed them with. "Do you think they will follow us home?" he asked, uncertainly. The birds could easily build a nest in the trees near their cottage, but he wasn't too sure about the other two.

"They may." She smiled gently, unaware of how relaxed she looked with a ferret on her shoulder and a raccoon in her arms. "But it will be their choice. And I will be happy with whatever they choose, because I will not be alone in any case. I will be with you."

He smiled again, almost shyly, at the reminder - not only of their living arrangements, but their connection. He was her Guardian and Protector now and as such, would never be far from her side. "I hope you will not grow to regret it," he told her quietly.

"Why do you seem to believe that I would?" she countered in her soft voice, smiling at the way the two sparrows on his shoulders were arranging his hair to suit themselves as they spoke.

He was vaguely aware of the birds, hoping they wouldn't decide to nest there, but content to let them fuss with his hair for now. There was a small frown on his face at her question, unsure how to answer. "I don't know. It's just that I am used to being alone. I do not wish to annoy you."

"And I am not used to being alone," she reminded him sadly. "It is I who will annoy you, I am certain of it. I do not wish to make you feel obliged to stay with me if you have no desire to. No one should have to go against their own will."

There was a time when he hadn't been used to being alone either, but that had changed when he'd escaped the Underdark. "I do not feel obligated," he was quick to point out. "To be honest, I have been lonely these past years," he admitted, with a downcast expression, as if he was too shy or ashamed to meet her gaze.

Her smile softened, though he could not see it, her gaze meeting that of the newly named Peppercorn, who seemed to understand that the male elf was not wholly happy in that moment. Muttering to herself, the raccoon got down from Greylin's lap and gathered together her fallen pawful of berries, climbing onto Kalan'ar's lap to offer them to him.

"I do not think you need to be lonely ever again."

Kal looked up, surprised to find the raccoon looking up at him hopefully from his lap, and he couldn't help smiling. "For me?" he asked regarding the berries, wondering what he'd done to deserve such a gift. He cupped his hand so that the raccoon could dump the berries into his hand, before looking over at Greylin, that smile still on his face but not because of the berries so much as because of her. "Not so long as we are friends?" he asked, not daring to hope for more than that just yet.

"I have never dared to hope for someone to stay," Greylin admitted softly. "But I am hoping now." Her eyes seemed shy as she looked at him, glancing away before Queenie hopped down onto Kal's hand to steal one of his berries.

"So am I," Kal said, his gaze lingering on Greylin's a moment longer than necessary, that soft smile still on his face, until the sparrow diverted his attention by stealing a berry. He laughed again. "Perhaps I should have named her Thief," he said, popping a berry into his mouth before offering the berries to Greylin.

"Perhaps," she agreed, taking three of the berries. One, she raised up for Jester to take and gobble down; one went into Peppercorn's mouth; and the third, she ate for herself. "But she is rather monarch of all she surveys."

Kal picked another berry from his palm and offered it to the other sparrow - the one he'd named Chipper. "She is, isn't she?" he agreed, not expecting an answer, as it wasn't a real question. "There aren't any queens here in Rhy'Din. At least, not as far as I know," he added, wondering if she'd find that tidbit as comforting as he did.

"There aren't any driders, are there?" The question was soft, but urgent - driders were a constant nightmare that filled her sleeping hours, and had been since the day she had seen her grandmother turned to one in front of her.

Kal furrowed his brows, not because he wasn't sure how to answer the question, but because the thought of there being driders in Rhy'Din was almost too horrible to contemplate. He just barely managed to stop himself from shuddering at the thought. "If there are, I have never heard of any," he replied, knowing that was not much of an answer, but it was the best he could do.

She nodded, glad of that, at least. "I am very glad to know that." It took a moment for her to realize she was still nodding, stopping herself abruptly with a harsh intake of breath. "Kalan'ar ....would you ..." She bit her lip, watching her fingers rubbing at Peppercorn's head. "Could you teach me to ....to cook?"

"To cook?" he echoed, more than a little surprised at this request. He couldn't think of anything he wouldn't do for her, if she asked, but he wasn't quite expecting that. Then again, there were probably a lot of things she didn't know and didn't know how to do. "I am not a very good cook, but I will teach you what I know," he promised. He paused a moment in thought before adding, "Carina - the Princess ..." he started, quick to correct himself. "She suggested we go fishing."

"I do not want to be useless in our home," she offered quietly, showing him worried eyes. The moment he mentioned fishing, however, Peppercorn jumped off her lap and scampered over to the stream, staring down into the water intently. Greylin tried not to smile too widely. "I think she wants to fish too."

The way she referred to it as their home did something strange to his stomach again, but he only arched a brow and said nothing of it. He might have pointed out how he was sure she wouldn't be useless, but the raccoon distracted him again, drawing his attention away from the conversation at hand. "How does she understand what we're saying?" he asked, with a puzzled expression on his face. Was it because of Greylin or was the raccoon unusual in some way"

"I don't know," she murmured, glancing at the four creatures that had chosen to remain with them. "They all seem to understand us somehow."

She gasped softly as the Mother touched her mind, that sense of warmth sliding over Kal as well for just a few moments. Just long enough to hear the words spoken in the stillness. Every guardian has companions.

From the look on Kal's face, it seemed he'd heard her in his head, too. "How ..." he murmured, trailing off. It seemed it wasn't just Greylin who had been touched by the Mother, but Kal, too. "Did you hear her?" he asked, looking to Greylin for confirmation, hoping he wasn't losing his mind.

The warmth already fading, violet eyes found his in wonder. "I did," she whispered. Her eyes flickered to the ferret on her shoulder. "Are you ....are you all family to us now?" Jester chittered happily, combing a hank of her hair through with his little paws.

"All of you?" Kal asked, looking to the pair of birds who were still nestled against his shoulder. Had the Mother asked the foursome to befriend her guardians, or had the animals decided that on their own, he wondered.

The two birds trilled some sort of reply; a splash from the stream announced that Peppercorn had caught something. A very small water vole, by the look of things, squeaking in what seemed to be outrage as it was held up by its tail. Greylin bit her lips, trying not to laugh at the sight.

"That is not a fish!" Kal exclaimed, chuckling and moving to rescue the poor thing before the raccoon ate it or something. "There, little one," he said, taking the vole from the raccoon into the palm of his hand, the berries all but forgotten and dropped on the ground. "No one is going to hurt you," he promised, gently stroking the little creature's furry back.

The little vole sat on his hand and shivered, relaxing as he stroked its fur. As it calmed down, it nipped his thumb gently and jumped down, disappearing back into the water with the barest of splashes. Peppercorn scolded Kal from where she was sitting, apparently put out that the vole got the petting when she didn't.

Kal chuckled at both the vole's abrupt return to the water and the raccoon's apparent scolding. He was not entirely sure what she was upset about, but took his best guess. "Is someone jealous?" he asked, an amused smirk on his face, as he reached over to stroke her fur, too. "I wouldn't want to leave anyone out!"

She took the cloak from him, wrapping it close into her arms as she watched him, fascinated by the mere idea that it was possible to catch a fish with your bare hands. "How do you do it?"

"I'm not sure, but how hard can it be?" he asked, moving to unfasten his boots and pull them from his feet. He had a feeling he wasn't going to have any choice but to get wet if he wanted to catch them something for dinner. He moved to his feet to set his boots down by his sword and start back toward the stream, hesitating a moment as his eyes searched the water for fish.

: By this point, Greylin was kneeling by the edge of the stream, peering down into the water with him. A moment later, Peppercorn leaned over the water beside her, and Jester - cheeky thing that he was - clambered up onto the top of the young drow's head to arch over and look for fish as well.

"There!" Kal called, pointing at a sleek shadow moving beneath the water, not far from the bank. He drew a breath to prepare himself for the cold and carefully stepped into the water, which came up well past his ankle. He realized there was no way he was going to be able to do this without getting wet.

"And we will eat them, yes?" Greylin asked, enthralled. She had already put her fingers in the water; she knew how cold it must be on his feet. "Are fish easy to cook?"

"Mostly, once they're prepared," he replied, not bothering to explain what was involved there. She'd find out soon enough if he actually caught any. He couldn't deny that the water was cold, but he wasn't planning on staying there long. Just how did one stalk a fish, he wondered. He supposed there was only one way to find out. He moved slowly through the water until it was half-way up his calf and then he lunged forward to make a grab at one of the slippery creatures.

It wasn't the easiest of tasks in the first place, and likely made harder by the fact that he was the subject of five intensely curious gazes from the bank. Indeed, Jester leaned forward so hard that he fell off Greylin's head, saved from an ignominious splash by the drow girl's fast reflexes. Giggling, she set the little ferret down, and began to take off her own cloak and shoes. "May I try?"

Kal's tunic and trousers were soaked in the attempt to catch a fish with his bare hands. It was madness really, but almost fun and strangely satisfying in a way to subdue the squirming fish. It was strange to do something that seemed even remotely fun. Kal wasn't even sure he knew what fun was. "You will get wet," he warned as he climbed out of the water and tossed the wiggling fish on the bank, well out of the way of the water.

"I promise you I shall not melt." She giggled, standing up on her bare feet and lifting her skirt to hook it up above her knees at the waist. The coldness of the water did elicit a gasp from her as she waded to mid-calf - far shallower than Kal had gone - looping her skirt just that little bit higher and rolling her sleeves before easing her fingers into the water. "Now what do I do?"

"Try to catch one!" Kal said, stating the obvious. He wasn't aware of any right or wrong way of going about it. He'd never done this before and guessed his success was partly patience and partly dumb luck. He turned to wade back into the water in case she needed help, but didn't as yet interfere.

Her hair fell over her shoulder, dangling into the water, unintentionally providing a lure for the fish swimming unconcernedly between her legs and hands. She looked over at Kal just as she felt one sweep between her fingers. She grabbed, caught the fish, almost got it out of the water ....and erupted into hysterical giggles as the wild flapping smacked her hard in the face before the fish made its escape.

"You almost had that one!" Kal called encouragingly, but not disappointed. It hardly mattered really whether they caught any fish or not, but now that the challenge was before them, it seemed they couldn't resist.

"Like this, see?" he said, slowly sneaking up on a wriggling fish before making a grab for it, only to have it slide out of his hands, splashing as it dropped back into the water. "Blast!" he muttered, setting his hands on his hips and tossing his hair out of his face, an almost comical look of annoyance on his face.

Greylin laughed, every moment in his company growing less stern, less afraid of finding a little joy in the time going by. Straightening up, she flipped her own hair back over her shoulder, vaguely aware of the ends soaking water into her backside as they settled. "How many fish do you need to eat well tonight?" she asked, fairly sure she would only be able to manage one.

Kal smiled at the sound of her laughter and the bright smile on her face. It didn't matter how many fish they caught so long as she was happy. "I only need one, but two would be better, and you need to eat, too," he said. Slim as he was, he didn't need much to satisfy his hunger, but a hard day's work resulted in a good appetite.

"Then we need two more," she said with a nod, glancing over to the shore, where Jester and Peppercorn were sharing the fish Kal had already caught. She snorted with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. "Three more."

He followed her gaze to the shore and grunted. "I'm glad they are enjoying the fruits of my labor," he said, but there was a smirk on his face that hinted at his amusement. "We are going to get very wet," he warned, already half soaked himself.

"We have the means to dry off," she reminded him, already bending to plunge her arms into the water once again. "At home."

"Home," he echoed, shaking his head a moment almost disbelievingly. It was not a word he was comfortable with, not until now. He had too many questions and not enough answers, but perhaps some things were better left unknown. "It is a strange word, isn't it?" he asked, as he, too, readied himself for another go at catching one of the wily fish.

"I have never known what it meant," she admitted, her eyes tilted toward him as her fingers wriggled in hope of snaring a fish. "I still do not but I - oooh!" Abruptly, she straightened up, hands held triumphantly high with a flapping trout held between them and threw it onto the grass. One finger pointed toward ferret and raccoon. "No. That is our dinner."

"I have heard that home is not a place, so much as a feeling," Kal said, grinning with pride as she caught a fish. "You did it!" he exclaimed, clearly pleased, chuckling a little at the warning she gave their furry friends. "It's all right," he told her. "There are plenty more where those came from."

"We don't know if we are going to be able to catch them, though," she pointed out, shaking the water from her hands. Her bodice was wet, but thankfully she was wearing a laced vest - Kal was not going to be too distracted from fishing by wet clothing on her.

Kal wasn't so concerned about the wet, as he was about the cold. Though no longer icy, the water was still cold from winter, and as the afternoon started giving way to evening, the air would get chilly. They probably shouldn't tarry too much longer. He frowned at the thought of that. He had enjoyed their first day together, but there would presumably be plenty more to come.

"I will catch one, you catch another, and then we will return," he told her, hoping it wouldn't take too long. He was more worried about her catching a chill than himself, but at least, his cloak was still dry.

Greylin nodded, bending down again to wriggle her fingers in the water. Her violet eyes stared, unseeing, into the forest around them, as though she could lure out fish by not looking into the water.

Kal wondered if she couldn't call them to her, if she wanted. She was a druid, after all, but somehow that seemed like cheating. And she was druid of the woods, not of the streams that ran through it, wasn't she" He wasn't so sure. He furrowed his brows, wondering what she was looking at when the fish were in the water at their feet, not the woods around them. He was distracted from his thoughts by the sensation of something brushing past an ankle, and he lunged for the fish, splashing in the water as he fought for control.

Startled, Greylin's head snapped about to watch Kal fighting with a new fish, silently wishing for his catch to be a success. As that wish formed in her mind, a gentle ripple of power emanated from her, calming the fish in his hands and drawing a pair of fish to her own outstretched hands. She blinked, staring down at her new, calm handfuls in amazement.

Kal had little trouble with the fish after that, easily catching it in his arms and sloshing his way back to shore to deposit it onto the grass, along with the other, before turning to see if she needed his help.

She was standing upright in the stream, a dead fish in each hand, and a look of amazed disbelief on her face. Her eyes raised to meet his gaze. "I think I did something."

He blinked over at her, noting the unmoving fish she had clutched in each hand, and he looked to the water to see if any more fish had gone still and lifeless. "I don't understand," he murmured, though he'd just been wondering if being a druid would give her some influence over the fish.

"I ....I was hoping that you - well, wishing that you could be triumphant in your catch, and ....this happened," she explained, moving toward the bank to drop one of the fish in the pile. The fourth fish, she gave to Peppercorn and Jester.

"It's like ....like they sacrificed themselves for us," he said, unable to think of any other way to phrase it. She had not killed the fish, exactly. It was more like they had given up their lives to her. The fish wouldn't have survived, either way, but the thought that they had simply given themselves over to Greylin was nothing short of magical.

"Am I a killer?" she asked, her expression suddenly stricken. "Did I ....did I do a bad thing" I don't even know how I did it, I just ..."

"No," he was quick to assure her, stepping toward her as though he needed to close the gap between them in order to offer some comfort and reassurance. "They would have died anyway, Greylin," he reminded her. They'd have had to if they were going to cook them. "I think perhaps we should thank them for their sacrifice," he calmly suggested.

"Will they hear us?" The guilt was written starkly across her face, and perhaps that was one of the reasons the Mother had chosen her. Greylin clearly valued life - all life; a strange attitude for someone raised by the drow.

"Perhaps," he said, though he wasn't sure. "Perhaps that which gives them life will hear," he suggested, unsure whether fish had souls. "Greylin, their deaths will not be senseless. Their lives were sacrificed so that we can have food," he told her, though he wasn't sure if that would bring her any comfort.

She sighed softly, nodding as she absorbed his explanation. "I understand. But we are not more important than they are," she added. "Perhaps ....if they were near the end of their lifespan, it would not be so bad."

"All of life is like this, Greylin," he told her, reaching over to brush the wet strands of hair back from her face. "It is the way of things. Do you think Peppercorn and Jester feel remorse over the fish' It is simply the cycle of life."

She closed her eyes as he touched her hair, inwardly shying from the touching without physically moving, opening her eyes with a very faint smile. "Am I being ridiculous for worrying?"

"Not, not ridiculous," he assured her with a soft smile. There was and never could be anything ridiculous about her, as far as Kal was concerned. "It is ..." he searched for the right word in their language, as well as common. It was not a word the drow used very often. "... ssiph," he said at last. Adorable.

She stared at him for a moment, her lips twitching into a shy smile that was wiped away swiftly only to return, wider and warmer, as she looked down between them. Evidently she was very pleased to be considered adorable by him. "I can't feel my toes anymore."

He realized suddenly that he'd been standing there and staring back at her, violet eyes meeting ice blue if only for a moment. He blinked out of his thoughts at the sound of her voice. "Oh!" he exclaimed, as if only just remembering that they were wet and should get back and get dry. "Sorry!" he added, as if it was his fault somehow. "We should be getting back."

"And warm," she agreed, unconsciously taking his hand to lean on him as she climbed out of the water in search of her stockings and shoes. "You will show me how to cook fish, yes?" she asked as she laced her shoes carefully. "I would very much like to learn."

"If you wish," he replied, though he wasn't sure she'd want to have any part of removing the guts, gills, and scales. The cooking of the fish was another matter. He, too, pulled his boots back on, and picking his cloak up off the ground, offered it to her.

She smiled at him, gently pushing his cloak back into his hands. "I have my own," she reminded him, hooking said cloak over her shoulders and clasping it at her neck.

A moment later, she had a ferret sitting in the hood, peeking out over her shoulder as Peppercorn clutched at her skirt. Above Kal's head, the two sparrows chirped inquiringly.

Kal threw the cloak on over his shoulders and fastened it at his neck, before peering upwards at the chirping going on over his head. "Well?" he asked the pair of birds. "Are you coming, too?"

There was a reason she was known as The Mother - a guiding hand that could be harsh or gentle, but always knew best for those she watched over. Who knew how long she had been watching Kalan'ar, how long she had been waiting for Greylin to find the surface" It seemed her plan had been to bring them together, like this. What else could she have planned for" A flutter of wings drew his attention to Queenie alighting on a low branch over the water. She fluffed herself up imperiously and chirruped at him. Perhaps it was time to go inside.

It wasn't only the sparrow, but the rumbling in his stomach that reminded him he had some cooking to do. "Very well," he called to the bird. "I haven't forgotten!" He grabbed a towel, rubbing himself dry, before donning a fresh tunic, and hanging the wet tunic and towels to dry on a low branch. That done, he started back toward the house feeling a least a little less smelly, if not entirely bathed.

Inside the house, the smell of frying fish made itself known, drawing the eye to where Greylin was prodding at the fish in a skillet over the fire as it cooked and sizzled. Chipper was on the mantle, watching her, and Jester was on her shoulder, watching the fish with fascinated interest.

"You started without me," Kal said, looking surprised, the smell of cooking fish significantly better than gutting fish, enough to make his stomach rumble noisily. He looked just a little crestfallen, as he'd promised to teach her how to do it, and yet, there she was figuring it all out on her own. He wasn't sure if he should feel pleased or disappointed.

"I wanted to see if I could do something for you," she offered, looking over at him worriedly. "Should I not have done it' I am probably doing it wrong."

"No, no," he was quick to point out, not wanting to upset her. "It's all right. I just didn't think you knew how," he explained, moving over to inspect the fish as it sizzled in the skillet. There wasn't much she could do to ruin it really, other than burn it.

"I have never cooked before," she admitted in embarrassment. "It will probably not taste as nice as it would if you had cooked it. But I watched you cook yesterday. You put things in the pot over the fire, and it cooked."

"It's not hard," he assured her, though he knew some thought cooking almost a form of art. He had never had much time to experiment in the kitchen. Cooking had always been more about nourishment and necessity than about skill and creativity. "I am not a very good cook, but I no longer go hungry," he admitted, a bit sheepishly.

"It is stuck to the pan," she reported, prodding at the cooked fish with a spatula she had found. "Is it supposed to do that?" His comment hadn't gone unnoticed, but she didn't know enough to be able to agree or disagree.

"Here, let me," he offered, his fingers accidentally brushing against hers as he reached for the spatula, moving to change places with her. He thought his heart stopped for a moment as their fingers touched, but he made no mention of it.

It was almost a pity he didn't comment on it, because she, too, felt the unexpected shock of intimacy in that careless touch. It took a moment for her to give up the spatula, her cheeks flushing dark for a moment before she forced her fingers to let go and stepped back. Her other hand touched his back hesitantly as they switched places, standing close to watch as he took over the cooking.

He was all too aware of her touch, as faint and fleeting as it was, struggling to keep his quickening pulse in check. He, too, felt his face flush, too self-conscious of his own reaction to notice the mirrored reaction in her.

"You-you just have to flip it more often," he said, stammering a little, evidence of his nervousness, as close to her as he was.

She finally seemed to notice that her proximity was causing him problems, drawing back and placing her hands very firmly behind her back. "I am sorry," she apologized. "I forgot that people do not like to be touched without warning."

People, his mind echoed. Was he just people" He had never thought of himself that way - apart and different from almost everyone else who called Anarven home but for Greylin, who was just like him. "I do not mind your touch, little bird," he assured her, as he used the spatula to scrape the fish from the pan and flip it over. "I am just ....not used to being touched, I suppose," he said with a faint shrug. There was more to it than that, but he was still trying to figure that part out.

She considered this for a moment, but leaned closer, as though imparting a secret. "I am a very strange slave," she confided in him. "I did not like to be touched by the mistresses and the masters. But I liked to be held by people who would not hurt me. I do not mind your touch, either, Kalan'ar."

"Because it is different to be touched by those you-you care for, Greylin," he tried to explain, stammering a little in his explanation, but that was because being so close to her still made him nervous. There was little of that in the Underdark for him. Slaves were usually too exhausted or hurting to spend much time caring for each other.

"I do not want to make you uncomfortable," she promised, drawing back with a faint light of disappointment in her eyes. "I will not touch you unless you ask me to. I do not wish to distress you with my touch. I know I am ....unclean."

Kalan'ar frowned, not just because she was misunderstanding him, but because she seemed to think herself less than worthy of his friendship. He sighed as he slid the fish onto a plate and turned to face her. "Greylin, you are not unclean, and you do not make me uncomfortable," he assured her.

"But I am a whore," she pointed out. There was no obvious shame in her as she said it; just a sense of disappointment that she could not be worthy of the kind man who did not seem to mind being forced to look after her.

Kal's eyes flashed with anger at her words, though that anger was not directed at her, so much as at those who had hurt her and used her and made her feel less than worthy. "No, you are not," he said, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. "I do not care what they told you or what they made you do. You were a slave, just as I was a slave. You did what you had to do to survive. And now, you are free."

"I am sorry," she murmured, ducking her head. "I did not mean to distress you. I will not speak." A lifetime of self-protection through silence and obedience was not going to be corrected within a day.

"Greylin," he said, gentling his voice. "Do you know what it means to be free" Do you remember?" he asked, daring to tip her chin upwards to meet his gaze. Yes, the fish still needed to be cooked and eaten, but it was important that she understood this.

Her head rose with his touch, violet eyes looking at him with contrite uncertainty. "To have no mistress," she whispered. "No orders. I ....I do not know what else."

"It means you are free to do and say whatever you wish, so long as you do not harm anyone," he said, though he didn't think he needed to add that caveat to his statement. "If I do not wish to be touched, I will tell you, and if you say something that offends me, I will tell you. I want you to be happy, Greylin. I am not your Master. I am your friend."

She gazed into his eyes, her uncertainty fading as he spoke, trust rising to fill her expression as she looked up at him. "Will ....could you ....hold me?" she asked hesitantly. "I ....no one has for so long, and ..." She looked down again, oddly ashamed of herself for asking.

A single brow arched upwards in surprise at her request. As awkward and strange as it made him feel, he could not find bear to deny her request. Her timing could have been better, as they were both hungry, but there was no harm in waiting a little bit longer to feed her.

"I can do that," he told her, lifting his arms but pausing a moment before he awkwardly slid his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace.

She went so willingly into the circle of his arms, her own rising to wrap about his waist as she burrowed into him, breathing in his scent and sighing with what might have been contentment. No doubt he felt her tension flee as she leaned into him, closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation of having someone who cared just a little about her close enough to squeeze.

Thankfully, he no longer smelled of fish or the forge, though there was a faint smell of the wild about him - of the stream and the woods and the springtime air. He felt warm and solid, surprisingly more solid that one might expect from the looks of him. As for her, she felt soft and strangely fragile in his arms, as though if he were not careful, she might break. He could almost feel her heart beating against his chest, and he closed his eyes to savor a moment which might never come again. He could not remember when he had last held someone like this or when he had last been held, but there was a strange familiarity to it, and a strange sort of comfort.

She had forgotten the ferret on her shoulder. Jester appeared to be enjoying the embrace as well, scrambling up over Kalan'ar's chest to his shoulder to rub his whiskered face against the dark elf's jaw affectionately.

It was Jester's scratchy caress that distracted Kal from his thoughts, chuckling as he turned his head to find the ferret vying for a little attention of his own. "I like you, too, Jester," he assured the creature, loosening his embrace so that he could scritch the ferret's head.

Feeling his arms loosen around her, Greylin raised her head, loosening her own grasp. She giggled softly at the sight of Jester claiming his own affection. "Did I make our meal go cold?"

"It's all right," he told her. There was always an abundance of food in the village, and no one ever had to go hungry. "Why don't you see if you can find us some water, while I finish cooking the fish?" he asked. "It won't take long."