Sunday, September 29, 2013

Gren had debated for days about when he should go back to see Izira. He would have went back the next day, but duty called, and he was in a sharp fight with a goblin on the other end of the Great Forest. He spent most of Saturday sleeping off the pain and weariness of the previous two days. Finally on Sunday, he felt rested and presentable enough that he would go back and see if Izira was doing alright. He made sure to take a bath in a nearby lake, comb his hair and beard, and he even tried to give himself a trim. He had also considered whether he should wear something nice, like a suit, but he didn't want to go overboard. If he wore his Ranger cloak and a nice clean shirt and pants, he could say he was just in the neighborhood. Be casual. He gulped and felt incredibly nervous anyway. Standing in his treehouse, looking in his mirror, he felt he did everything he could possibly do. He hefted the golden staff onto his shoulder, just in case the portal might have closed, and started off on his journey to the Northwest Hills, where the portal to the Forgotten Layers Inn was.

After several hours, he found the portal, exactly the way he had left it. It appeared to be a glowing blue tear, hovering in mid-air. He frowned a bit, and wondered if he should tell Izira there was a permanent opening to her world now. Stepping through, he vanished from RhyDin and found himself at the rock with the blue fish and those familiar hedges. Before he stepped around them and onto the gravely path, he stopped, closed his eyes, and whispered whatever mantra that came to mind to boost his self-confidence. Then he marched up the path and made his way to the door. He swallowed, hesitated for a moment, then knocked, which came out as an awkward series of raps on the front door.

Within the inn two heads turned toward the knock on the door. Izira stood behind the bar, sorting through recently arrived inventory. The minotaur, human in form but for his bull's head and black hide, sat at a table with a cup of tea and an accounting book before him. The guest, wearing a nice suit expected of a traveling businessman, turned a disapproving eye on the woman behind the bar as an ear flicked. He quietly turned back to his tea and accounting. The cat, Silas, didn't turn his head from the spot of sun he took up by the window. Izira, somewhat boxed in by crates, lifted her voice to call to the door, "It's open!"

Smiling to himself, Gren pushed the door open, simultaneously pulling back his grey hood and stepping within the room. "Hello Uhhhhh . . . " He stopped in astonishment as he saw the Minotaur sitting there. In a suit. Drinking tea. Doing accounting. His jaw dropped and his eyes would have popped out of his skull if they could have. I thought she said "All paths were closed", he thought to himself. He gracelessly closed the door behind him, giving the Minotaur a nervous, sheepish smile, his eyes darted around the room, desperately looking for Izira. He found her standing behind the bar, and he silently began to move over to where she stood, giving the Minotaur a brief nod and smile. "How's it going? Heh." He then gulped.

The minotaur gave Gren a flat look of irritation, moving his chair and belongings to put that side of the room to his back. No greeting returned.

"Watch your step." Smiling in thanks, she started the way down the stairs to the cellar below where row upon row ran out from a long central one. Izira walked along until they came to one row and turned to move down it. Closer to the end she set the box she carried on a shelf next to another similarly marked box. Turning to take the box Gren carried, she placed that one down a ways on the shelf across.

He gingerly made his way down the row, following Izira, just not wanting to drop the box or make another scene. He handed it off as she reached to him, took a quick look back at the stairs, before glancing back at her. "I . . . . uh . . . knocked because I thought you'd be alone. You told me 'all paths' had been 'closed' to your Inn."

Already turning to head back up, she stopped as Gren spoke, a genuine smile gracing her features. "Even if I was alone, it would not make this place any less of an inn." A hand on Gren's shoulder, she stepped around him. "And they were, then. The tear helped to encourage the other paths to open. All but one."

Her gentle touch on his shoulder should have caused his insecurities to skyrocket, but instead it somehow calmed him, made him feel at ease as though he was talking to an old friend. He smiled back in return, trailing behind her as she made her way back to the steps. "Well, I'm . . . glad something good came of it. Which one didn't open?"

Turning to make her way back up for the next box, she answered casually and without looking back. "The one to RhyDin."

Hmm. Now he was going to have to tell her. But he wondered, if she knew the others opened, why didn't she know about the tear he had entered through? He kept quiet for now, waiting until the would be alone in the cellar again before he said anything. At the top of the stairs, back in the bar area, he waited for her to hand over the next box, and thought about how he would explain the portal he had come through.

One more box handed over and another taken up, she headed back down to the cellar, moving to a row that was closer than the one before. This time their boxes matched and went into the same spot. Izira had to pull a strand of hair away from her face once her hands were free.

Gren dutifully took the box, once again being mindful of his delicate fingers. Once she had reclaimed the box, he began to speak, but he watched with a curious fascination as she pushed the hair from her face. It was hard to keep his concentration around her. "You said the tear from RhyDin didn't open. But the portal I had entered that was created by the staff was still there."

"I hope you cooked the bird before you ate it." A soft laugh, she nodded. "I will make you a nice steak in thanks for your help."

"Oh yeah, you have to cook it. Or it's too rubbery and greasy. I had to bring some dry wood with me to make a little fire. Then you just mix the corn meal with some water and a little salt. Make a little cake out of it. Nice little meal if you're stuck in a swamp." You're rambling again, he thought, then immediately looked mortified. "Uhhh . . . a steak sounds nice. Don't mind me."

"Why should I mind you?" Waves it off, not needing a response. "Does your work often require you to be in a swamp for extended periods?" Two more boxes put away and up to get the next pair.

And you said "little" four times in a row, he thinks, continuing to beat himself up. "If the job requires it. Not many people can survive out there for long periods of time, so they call in the Rangers if someone gets stuck out there, or a fugitive decides to hide from justice." He follows her up the ladder again, and glances curiously to the Minotaur to see if he is still there, or paying attention to what they're doing.

The minotaur is still there, making tallies in his book and not paying any attention to the pair.

In return, Izira paid little attention to the minotaur. "What was the case this time? Someone stuck or a fugitive?" The last two boxes gotten and on their way to their spot in one of the nearest rows.

The repetition of carrying the boxes was easing his mind, regardless of his supposed social missteps. "It was a fugitive. Guy's name was Wallace, I think. Thought he was a pretty tough fellow, ran into a bank in one of the local villages, beat up the guard, and left with thousands of silver nobles. He thought he'd be 'clever' and hide out in the Lone Pine Swamp. Unfortunately for him, he didn't think to bring fresh water, dry clothes, or anything to eat. Not to mention whatever creatures might be lurking about. Lizardmen, Gnolls, Wyverns, you know. I found him two days later, curled up in a ball, shivering like a beaten dog. He begged me to take him back. Easiest mission I've had in a while."

Gren's story is rewarded with another soft chuckle from Izira, "Poor fellow." The smile softens as she puts her own box away and turns to take the last one Gren holds, "You must be kept busy if RhyDin is anything as I remembered it, something was always happening."

The words by the minotaur were either incomprehensible or too low, but it snapped Gren out of his reverie. He stood from the stool and wandered over to the sitting room, where Silas was. Absently he knelt down, trying not to block the sun filtering through the window, and petted the cat's head, like the last time he was there. "We meet again." A bit of humor in his voice, although it was more to fill the silence with some kind of sound, even for a brief moment.

The feline allowed itself to be petted, watching Gren with green eyes. His tail moved behind him, but not in annoyance. The feline almost appeared to be curious.

"It certainly is quiet here. Lots of sun, too. You must love it." He continued to pet the cat, looking out the window, wondering how exactly a realm like this can have a sun.

Another flick of the feline's tail. Izira looked out from the kitchen to where Gren had been and then had to take a moment to look further to find him, "Do you like mushrooms?" She called across the inn.

Gren's eyes go wide for a moment. He remembers "Sweet" Candy and "Andrew" Anderson and tries not to grimace. He turns his head towards Izira. "Yes, I do like mushrooms."

An dip of her head that she heard him and she vanishes behind the door again. Silas tilts his head.

Gren looks back at Silas. "Not *those* kind of mushrooms." Although Silas would have no idea what he meant. Plus, he was a cat. To Gren, anyway. He sat down, cross legged, next to the cat, he stared out at the gardens that stretched out to the forest, and the fountain in the front yard. He petted Silas' side and back as he waited for Izira to appear again.

A while longer left to the man and cat as Izira finished cooking. When she returned again, she came carrying a tray as she had done before. Crossing the room she set the tray down for Gren. An eight ounce filet sat, still hot, on a plate with a truffle glaze, saut?ed mushrooms, and garlic butter mashed potatoes. A napkin and silverware included on the tray as there'd been room enough. "What would you like to drink? As you saw, I have a wide selection."

"I'll have a Bro . . . " was about to say Broot, but since she's been cut off from RhyDin for five years, she probably wouldn't know what he was talking about. "Root Beer. Please." He eyed the plate hungrily, found a chair to sit in, and unrolled the napkin, placing it in his lap, and cutting into the steak, not waiting for his drink first. The meat melted in his mouth, and he couldn't help but let out a pleased grunt, rolling his eyes upwards slightly. It had been a while since he had a steak that good.

A pause as Gren pauses but she nods to his request, moving back before he's cutting into the steak. She returns with a cold bottle of root beer and an frosted glass mug. Not interrupting his meal, she opened the drink and carefully poured the root bear in at a angle to keep the foam from becoming too much. "I hope you find the payment worth your effort with those crates."

Izira quietly considers that. Her amber-brown eyes drift to where the tear is, "Would it be possible to close the tear with the staff?"

"I don't know." He hadn't thought of that, and a sudden fear grips him. If he seals it, how would he ever get back? But he realizes, maybe she doesn't feel safe with it open. He remembers her explanation that the other tears helped keep trouble out. He tried to control his face and not betray any sadness. "I could try to close it for you. I'm sure you'd feel safer that way."

"I would prefer no more Gronnards find their way to my home." Even with her own gifts to protect her, Izira knew she wasn't entirely invincible. Several days of thoughts on it had made her admit to that. "And it is possible, with the tear gone, the true path will be able to open again."

He nodded quietly. The meal was finished, he chewed thoughtfully on the final piece of steak. He knew it was wrong to impose himself on her, and possibly risk her safety. Maybe he should ask the staff what happened. "Why don't I ask the staff what it did. Maybe it can help to close it back."

"It is a rather... helpful magical item." Recalling the way it which it helped Gren carry Gronnard's body from the realm. She inclined her head to the idea. "I would appreciate the effort, Gren."

"Alright then." He stands and walks over to where the staff is leaning on the bar, then moves back over to Izira in the sitting room. He pictures in his mind the tear and the unanswered question he has. On cue, the blue gem sparkles to life, and the magical glyphs appear before Gren's eyes.

How may I serve you, Master? Ask any question and I will answer.

"The tear that was opened, when you gave Gronnard access to this realm. Is it possible to reseal it again?"

Yes, Master, a healthy dose of magical energy is needed to repair the damage, but it should hold. I would recommend no further attempts at opening it for several months, or it could become permanent.

"Well, we don't want it to be permanent. We will respect Miss Izira's wishes and close it permanently."

As you wish, Master. I will need to be in close proximity to the tear in order to properly seal it. I also recommend you be on the proper side when the attempt is made.

"Alright." Gren looks to Izira. "The staff says it can. But I have to be on the RhyDin side. I would imagine so I don't get trapped here with you, if . . . " he kind of trails off.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Gren had debated in his mind all day on when to go back and see Izira again. He really wanted to talk to Rena and see if she knew anything about Eva, but she hadn't been in the Outback that evening. It would have warmed his heart to give Izira some news of her long lost friend. But Gren knew he had a bigger problem. What if the original path to RhyDin had not opened? He may never see Izira again. He unfurled the map early Tuesday morning and stared at it, trying to memorize every detail in case it got lost. I should at least see if the doorway is open, he thought. He gathered up the map and made for the door. He saw the golden staff sitting in his kitchen, and thought about bringing it, but he didn't want to use it as a crutch. Plus Izira seemed a bit nervous at its presence. This will work. He marched out his front door and began his trek towards the area of forest that the map pointed towards. The journey seemed longer to this portal than the tear the staff had made in the Northwest Hills. He passed by a series of lakes, until he found a forest path that lead him through a cluster of evergreens. He rapidly looked between the map and the trees. This is it, he thought. He took a deep breath, and stepped forward, willing the door to be open. Gren saw the air around him shimmer and turn blue, and then he found himself on the main path to the Forgotten Layers Inn. He broke out in a broad smile that turned into a laugh of triumph. Hah! Knew it all along. Of course. No worries, he thought to himself. Whistling a little tune, he marched up the gravel path, tucking the map into his cloak. He marched up to the doors of the Inn and raised his hand to knock. Then he remembered the debacle from Sunday afternoon and gulped. Adjusting his cloak, he took a steadying breath to build his courage, grabbed the doorknob, and stepped through the door.

Izira looked up from her spot by one of the tables. A small vase with wild flowers recently placed at the table's center. Half of the tables in the main room included the new center piece, though a number remained bare. Small, empty, glass vases sat beside wild flowers waiting to be tidied together into proper center pieces. "Gren, a quick return. I had reason enough to expect that the path had opened, but had not taken the time to try it for myself." Looking down at the flowers, "It has been a while." Again she looked up to him, wanting to ask him if he had any news of Eva, but she tempered herself to behave in a manner fitting her station. "Are you thirsty from the walk?"

"I am", he tried not to wear the goofy grin that he had when she gave him the map, but a more reserved smile to try to seem casual. His heart was racing though. "I thought . . . maybe I could get some of those scrambled eggs, and we could talk about it."

She looked toward a curious looking time piece that sat on a shelf lining the upper wall of the main room. "It has become that time again. Anything else with the eggs? And what would you like to drink?" Moving back to the bar, she slipped behind it and washed her hands.

"Just the eggs will be fine. I'm not that hungry this morning. And I'd like some coffee, if you have it. With cream and sugar." He followed her over to the bar, and found a stool to sit on. He glanced briefly at the timepiece she had stared at.

"Coffee with cream and sugar." Steps taking her to the coffee pot, she selected a good roast and started that. A kettle of water for tea started at the same time. She picked up a glass and filled it with water, ice cubes forming in the glass as the water is added. The glass of water is set before Gren, "Something to drink while you wait." A smile and she stepped back into the kitchen.

"Thank you." A glass of ice water would be nice after his long hike. He swallowed more than half the glass before he realized it. He must have been more thirsty than he originally thought. He took a deep breath so he could smell the scent of the Inn, the food cooking and the flowers laid out on the tables. Smiling absently, he peered over at the sitting room to see if Silas was there, sunning himself at the window.

He grimaces slightly. He had gotten so worked up over Izira giving him a map that he had forgotten to ask about that. Now he knew he definitely had never heard of her before. "You had drinks with her and Rena, huh? Why don't you tell me some more about her? Maybe it'll help me in the search."

"What is to tell?" She smiles softly to herself, "She is a doctor. She drinks the hard stuff. She is kind and strong." Looking around, "She came out here, to the inn, sometimes."

He follows her glance to the empty Inn, then he feels a bit bad, and looks back. "Have you gotten any customers since my last visit?"

"I have not." She sipped her tea before continuing, "It is not uncommon. This is not an easy place to find."

He is close to breaking into a chuckle, not a sarcastic one, more of a knowing one at the fact she's been alone for the last five years. But he contains himself, because he is still worried about her. He tries to find the right words to say in his mind so he doesn't upset her. He gulps slightly and decides to just go ahead and say what's on his mind. "Have you been doing alright? You seemed upset when you told me about Eva the other day."

"I miss my friend. That, too, is not uncommon." She set her tea down, "I loved Eva, dearly. I only hope that life has led her to good things."

"No, it's not uncommon. I just thought you might be . . . " He remembers she said she wasn't alone, she had her pets to keep her company. "I just thought you might want to talk about it. I'm sure it might be a bit of a shock to have the realm re-opened like this after five years."

A soft apologetic smile, "Perhaps I have grown a little jaded." Lifting her hand, she tuck a strand of hair behind an ear. "Though, stranger things have happened."

Gren watches her tuck her hair behind her ear in fascination, just like in the cellar. Those little things, the moments of humanity, bring out his sentimentality. "What kind of strange things?"

She is not entirely jaded for when Gren asked she looked a little surprised. She smiles following, seeing his sincere curiosity. Lips wetted before she spoke, "My mother shared the memories of her life with me on her death bed." Looking back to Gren with those amber-brown eyes, not sure if she should go further into detail or mention some other event.

He holds her gaze for a long moment. He places his chin in his hand, and leans his elbow on the countertop. "That doesn't seem so strange, that a mother would want to let her daughter know about the life she had lived, before she passed on. You can tell me about it, if you want." He keeps his gaze focused on her to let her know he wants her to tell him.

A soft smile, thinking Gren had misunderstood her. "When my mother died, I was the only one with her. I held her hand." Looking down at her own hands, "With her final breath... all her memories ran through my mind as though they were my own."

He had misunderstood. He thought Izira's mother had merely talked to Izira, sharing those memories. Gren watched her with a mixture of sympathy and fascination. "So your . . . elemental powers allowed you to absorb her memories? Or did your mother have powers too?"

"Perhaps my elemental gift. Far as I know my mother was human. Although I have only experienced that... twice in my life."

"Did your mother have good memories to share?"

"Some." Another apologetic smile.

He watches her, pausing. The apologetic smile leads him to believe maybe he's pushing for too much, too soon. "You said that only happened twice. When was the other time?"

A look of guilt crosses her features, she looks down. "A man I loved. He left and did not return for many seasons." A pause before she continued, "When he did return he found a woman different than the one he left. He had been in a long battle and lost his tongue. He shared his thoughts with me to explain his absence."

Gren's face slowly falls as she tells her story. He pulls his arm back from where he had rested it on the bar. "That's . . . terrible." He watches her with compassionate eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that." He felt awkward, like the words probably wouldn't help, but he felt compelled to say them anyway.

"At least we did not part in anger." A reach for brightness touches her smile, looking for the silver lining in even that which put a slight touch of moisture to her eyes. She blinks, finding her composure. Reaching for Gren's mug, "Would you like more coffee?"

His eyes dart across her face, he notes the moisture in her eyes, and feels slightly embarrassed at having steered her into a painful memory. But still, he felt hopeful in that she shared it with him. He is still watching her with his drawn face, when he too snaps out of it. "Yes! I'll take some more. It's good coffee."

"That is what I am told." A soft smile, she stood up and freshened up his mug, bringing it back to him, she set it down before him.

"Thank you." He placed his hand around the mug, feeling the warmth from the liquid inside. He places the same measure of cream and sugar in that he had done before. He takes a slow sip, feeling almost guilty. "You said he found you different than when he left. But you seem to be a warm, friendly person to me. Maybe . . . good things are still in your future." He tries to cover his insecurity with another drink of the coffee. He hopes she doesn't think he's being naive.

"Maybe." She took up her seat again and her tea. The liquid within still hot from her occasional attention. "I am a different woman now than I was then."

"Well, that's good to hear." He glanced at his cup again, then a sudden thought popped into his head, and he looked back at Izira sharply. " . . . I was wondering . . . The day I found the Inn and fought Gronnard. I passed out on the steps. How did you get me into the Inn? And how did you get Gronnard's body onto that sleigh?"

The cat perked up, perhaps hearing something outside. An ear flicked.
Izira looked down into her tea cup, thinking. "Magic." Came the answer and she looked up with a smile.

"Magic." He repeated. He remembered how she lit the fireplace, although she called them elemental powers. He didn't know enough about Magic to argue, so he just shrugged it off. "I guess I was lucky then. You seem to have many talents. Making fire, reading memories, lifting unconscious people. Anything else to add to your impressive set of skills?" He crooks the edge of his mouth up in a half smile.

"You forgot the cooking." Happy to turn the subject to lighter, teasing topics.

"Ah, the cooking. I was saving the best for last! I can honestly say that was the best pumpkin butter I ever had. Probably the only pumpkin butter I ever had, but still . . . ", he doesn't mind shifting the conversation as well.

"Does your quartermaster keep the pumpkin butter for himself as well?"

"Eh, all we get, if we're *lucky*, is some grape jam. The cheap stuff. Now I've been to some summer and fall festivals where they had some apple butter. But I don't think I even realized they make pumpkin butter."

"The worlds make many things and much of it ends up here."

"Yeah, I've noticed. So what was in all those boxes we hauled down to the cellar the other day? Just wine, or something else?"

"Wines, ales, meads." She nodded. "Do you have a favorite drink?"

He gets a semi-paranoid look on his face. "I mostly stick to Root Beer. I know I used to drink a tankard of ale when I came to the Great Helm, but . . . I was just trying to fit in. I used to get such a headache afterwards. But I . . . ah . . . I also didn't want you to think less of me."

A light touch of confusion creases her brow. "I just serve drinks, I do not judge you on them."

"I know. It was just my insecurities, I guess. Sometimes they get the best of me."

"What do you have to be insecure about?"

Everything, he jokingly thought to himself. He looked at his coffee, then glanced up at Izira. He was nervous about having this conversation, but she had shared with him, so she deserved to hear something in return. He takes a deep, cleansing breath. "I feel . . . inadequate, in certain situations. Like as if everything I say is wrong. Everything I do is wrong. Especially with . . . women." He gives Izira a nervous look. "It's just that . . . I feel it's expected of me to be perfect, or always know what to say, or . . . " He runs out of words, and starts fingering his mug worriedly.

Softly she chuckles, but not in cruelty or at him. "If anyone is truly expecting you or anyone else to be perfect, they are a fool." She presses her lips together and moves a bit forward on the stool. "Eva? She had a scar that graced the side of her face." Izira traced a finger down the side of her own. "She felt insecure about it. But it was beautiful, in its own way. It was a testament to her strength." A soft smile and she reached out to touch the back of his hand as he worried at his mug. "Accept yourself. Those that are worth your time will accept you as you are. The rest do not deserve the effort."

Quietly he watched her as she spoke to him. Whether it was the kind words she had, or just the way she looked that day. He tried to burn the image of her into his mind, her brunette hair, those amber brown eyes, the pretty dress she wore. And then she touched him again. His fingers immediately stopped their fidgeting. The corners of his eyes wavered. "I've been trying to accept myself for seven years." He returns her soft smile, not wanting to waste her kindness with defeatism. "But maybe . . . like I said before . . . good things are still in my future."

Letting go of his hand and leaning back, "Another steak lunch?" Smiling before taking a sip from her tea.

His face brightens, and he almost answers in the affirmative, but then he realizes he still hasn't done his patrols in his sector of the forest yet. "I . . . wish I could. But it's time I got to work. I'll have to take a rain check on that."

An inclination of her head. She set her tea aside and stood to collect the plate from his breakfast.

"How much do I owe you for the breakfast?"

"Consider it on the house, for helping with the tear and testing the path."

The corners of his mouth go up again. "Being your only customer, I feel kind of guilty taking all these free meals." Gren's mind is an odd mixture of bewilderment and infatuation. Her gentle words and openness have struck him in the heart, but he also doesn't quite know how to deal with the emotions that he is feeling, emotions he is used to running away from.

"Others will find their way here." Waving off his concerns, she set his plate in the sink. "Do not forget the coffee." Indicating the bag of grounds she packed for him. "Also, on the house." Before he asked.

He stood from the barstool, giving her a long look, then dumbly he glanced down at the bag of coffee, and much like the map from before, he cradles it in his left arm, close to his chest, rather than put it within his cloak. "Thank you for the talk, Izira. I need all the encouragement I can get."

"Return when you need a refill, Gren." Smiling, she picked up his coffee cup. "Safe travel to you."

"You take care as well. I'll be back soon." His smile is an unsteady one, not from insincerity, but more from his own emotional flux. He hurriedly turns and makes his way to the door, pulls his grey hood over his head, and exits the Inn. He stands outside on the porch for a few long moments, looking down at the coffee as if it somehow held an answer. It, of course, didn't.

Inside, Izira watched Gren go. A glance to Silas as he remained perched on his stool. Her soft smile remains as she starts to wash the dishes.

He slowly moved down the gravel path and back towards the tear that led to RhyDin. The familiar blue lights appeared around him as he felt himself transported back to the world he knew as home. I have to find Rena, he thought. I have to do something nice for Izira. The meals, the kind words. I have to do something. He tramped through the evergreens, back towards the cluster of lakes, on his way to the area that he was responsible for patrolling. Even if I have to go to the Isle. He remembered the touch of her hand on his, the moisture in her eyes, the secret smile she gave him when she offered the ground coffee. God, please don't let me screw this up.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013


Gren was still rubbing his temples after leaving the Stars End Bar. Christ, how did people put up with Tara and her shenanigans all the time? And the Town Watch is going to be after me now! What did I do to deserve this? Hopefully they'll know better and leave me alone. Wandering the streets of RhyDin, trying to make his way home, his mind focused on something to take away the embarrassment. He pictured Izira gently pushing the stray lock of hair behind her ear. He pictured the little secret smile she had when she gave him the coffee. He felt horribly alone. Gren knew it was late, but the Inn was supposed to be a Tavern also, wasn't it? Maybe Izira was still up. Maybe now was as good a time as any to give her the news about Eva. Or maybe he just needed to see a kind face and feel a warm hand on his shoulder. He kept the map to the Inn guarded in the pocket of his grey cloak. Taking a quick look, he tried to figure out how to get to the portal from the City. Then he made his way there, through the countryside and into the forest. This way didn't lead him past the cluster of lakes, but he found the stand of evergreens and walked into the shimmering blue air and found himself on the gravelly path to the Inn. He looked up and noticed it was dark, then glanced at the windows to see if the lights were on.

Light shines from the inside of the inn, lit by numerous candles. A fire burns in the large hearth and its glow too added to that of the candles inside. The hour has not chased the lady of the Inn away to slumber. She sits on the tender's stool behind the bar and works on the inn's accounts, something to help ease her on to sleep.

Gren smiled as he saw Izira there in the window. He felt more at ease now that he knew he wouldn't be interrupting her slumber. His steps were more determined as he made his way up the path and to the door. His hand gripped around the doorknob, and he lowered his head a moment to steady himself. Remember, she wants to hear from you, he thought. Then he turned the knob and made his way inside, pulling back his grey hood as he did so.

Hearing the door open, the lady looked up. A smile present to greet Gren. "It is a bit late for lunch." Izira marked her place and closed her account book with the loose leaf records tucked within. Standing up and smoothing her hands over her skirts, figuring she be moving soon to fetch one thing or another.

Silas sat. dozing, on the seat of an armchair by the fire.

Gren's ice blue eyes landed on her outfit, he always liked little flowers for some reason. "Yes . . . I was given a mission this morning that kept me occupied all day." He made his way over to the bar and had a seat on a stool. "You look . . . nice as always. How have you been?"

"I continue." Said with a smile as she's already filling up a glass with water for him until she knows what else he wants. Ice forms in the glass as the water is added, chilling it by the time she places it before Gren. "I considered going to Red Dragon for a drink today... but thought it better to wait a little longer, in case you had word?" Amber-brown eyes looking to Gren with a mixture of curiosity and hope.

He matches her gaze as he takes the glass of water. "Thank you." Since she asked, he figured he may as well go ahead and tell her. "Well, it's kind of . . . good news and bad news." He stares at the glass and takes a long drink, as the pause is helping him to collect his thoughts.

She waits, patiently for whatever news Gren is about to deliver. She steadies herself with two hands lightly resting on the edge of the bar.

"I found Rena on the Isle on Tuesday night. She remembered Eva. The bad news is she hasn't seen her for a while."

Silent but for a moment, Izira exhales gently. "It... is not uncommon..." Assuring herself that having not seen Eva did not translate to anything bad. For a moment Izira feels like a terrible friend, letting her anger at a break-up get the better of her so long ago. She wears her smile again, "Thank you for asking for me. How is Rena?"

"I was glad to help. Rena is part of the good news, though. She is doing well. She says hello, and that you are missed. Maybe when you go to the Red Dragon, you might see her. That's one friend that you'll be able to catch up with."

"That is." She agreed and smiled at that part of it. Looking forward to that possibility, despite having nothing much to share on her end of things. It would be good to catch up with Rena. "I hope you did not come all the way to tell me that. Not that I do not appreciate it, but it is out of your way. Are you hungry?"

"Well . . .? He lowers his head a bit sheepish, "No I didn't come here just for that. I am a bit hungry, but I'm not finished with the good news yet."

"Oh." An apologetic smile, she placed a hand over her mouth for cutting him off. "Please, share."

He smiles gently. "Well, it was two other things. First, Rena is going to leave a note for Eva, to get in touch with you when she can. Second, it seems Eva has gotten engaged to a gentleman named Mason."

Her smiles widens to know that Rena will leave a note to Eva for her, as that can only mean that Eva was well and whole or at least in a state capable of getting notes. As Gren speaks on Izira is first happy for her friend and then a bit sad. "Mason?" Her lashes flutter softly. "I never knew him." Once more the smile of assurance appears, "But if Eva has accepted his offer... I am happy for her. Them."

"Thought you might be. I'm sure she's probably just busy with her work. Being a doctor, you know. I'd never heard of Mason either. Rena didn't go into details, but that's alright. Now, I wouldn't mind something to eat. That is, if your establishment is still serving at this late hour." Gren gives her a little sideways grin.

Gren looks off to the side, as if too embarrassed to look Izira in the eye. It was humiliating to him what happened. And he didn't know if he really wanted to tell Izira something like that. "I get picked on sometimes. I guess people think I'm an easy target because of . . . my personality."

Lashed flutter in a hint of surprise. She looks him over and smiles, "To look at you I would not think you would be the sort to be picked on. What is it about your personality that you think causes them to do so?"

He glances back at her, and all his insecurities began to surface in his mind again. No, don't tell her that. She won't understand, he thinks. But she's never been unkind to me so far. And she shared things about herself. Maybe she will understand. "I get nervous sometimes . . . especially around women. I don't trash talk, I don't get angry, and I don't stick up for myself. People think I'm a pushover. I don't want to be angry. I don't want to be those things. I just want to be at peace." He grimaces a bit at the end, thinking that sounded weak. But he didn't know how else to put it.

An empathetic smile for him. "I can well understand wanting to be at peace." After all, she has acquired quite the peaceful surroundings. "I see nothing wrong with not... trash talking." Pauses, "Anger... anger is just an emotion like any other, you feel it when you feel it. It is more important what you do with that anger." She knew that all too well.

"I just . . . never get angry. I don't know why. Tonight . . . this . . . woman . . . she was telling everyone that I was going to kill everyone. Making it sound like I was some ticking time bomb. Then this man, he stuck me with a needle and paralyzed me. The woman said to me that she told the Town Watch . . . all these horrible things about me." He was rambling, like a floodgate had been opened. He probably should have answered Izira better, but her kindness had broken open the proverbial dam. He hung his head a bit.

"Perhaps you are a saint." Smiling softly to him. The events he told didn't sound enjoyable.

Saint? Gren couldn't help but chuckle at that. First just looking at his empty plate, and then looking up into Izira's amber brown eyes. "I don't know about that, Miss Izira, but . . . . You had asked me before if I had come all this way just to tell you about Rena and Eva. The answer is no, it wasn't just about the news, or to get a slice of pie." His mouth wavers for a moment, as if he wants to say more, but is willing himself the courage to say it.

Izira smiled knowingly. "You want a room." She set her cup of tea to the side and stood, collecting his dishes. "I recall how well you said you rested that night after the... incident with Gronnard. I can imagine some time further away from your troubles would make sleep easier."

He actually wasn't going to say a room. Not at that moment. But the awkwardness he felt at what he wanted to say caused him to blindly agree. "Yes. A room. That would be nice." He passes a hand across his face after she gathers his dishes.

She rinses the dishes quickly before moving over to open a cupboard of keys. "Did you want the same room as before or a bigger room? There are several suites." Looking back over her shoulder. "Free of charge if you grant me your services chopping some wood tomorrow."

"The same room will be fine. And I'd be more than happy to chop some wood. How much do I owe you for the coffee and pie?"

"Consider it on the house. You have been through enough this evening, you deserve some comfort foods." Returning to the bar to hand him over a key. "Same room. Do you need me to show you the way?"

"Thank you. No, I think I remember . . . ?Then he stops and stares at her for a moment.?I remember where it is." He takes the key from her, a bit hesitantly.

"Is there anything else you need? A wake-up call? Breakfast comes with the room."

"No, I'm usually up at the crack of dawn. Unless I'm beat to a pulp. Heh." He tries to smile a bit.

"I can assure you with certainty that won't happen."

"No, I'm sure it wouldn't. Good night, Miss Izira. I'll see you in the morning." Gren turns and starts to walk towards the stairs leading to the room. He only takes half a dozen steps, before he turns around and stares at her again. "I didn't come just for a room either." He holds his hand up defensively, afraid it might sound like he's coming on to her. "Hear me out, please."

"Enjoy your rest, Gren." She'd said before he started off to his room. Izira had gone only a few steps back to her tea when Gren turned around. Her hand stilled in the air in its reach. It relaxed to her side and she waited to hear him out as requested. A bit of confusion creasing her brow. Her brow relaxes and she inclines her head to him to go on.

"After tonight . . . I didn't want to be alone. I needed to see a kind face. I needed to hear a kind word. I knew I would get that here. This place . . . you . . . calms me for some reason. I want to thank you for your gentleness with me."

"There is no need to thank me, Gren. I merely carry out the intent of this place." A look at the inn and realm above her. "But I am pleased to know that you can find what you need here."

Gren's eyes twitch in fear. To him he may as well of professed his undying love with that speech. He tries to mask his distress with a quick smile and nod, but the tension is still probably on his face. "Good night." he says simply, and this time he makes for the stairs.

"Good Night, Gren." Offered to him in return. She smiled to herself, unaware of his plight and happy that the inn and the realm has served its purpose.

Gren doesn't look back this time, he merely ascends the stairs and finds 'his' room, quickly turning the key and slipping inside. With a pair of shaking hands, he removes his grey cloak and sets it on a chair by the bed. The weight of what he had done, coming here tonight, saying what he said to Izira, is oppressive. These things were always gargantuan to him. He managed to get his boots off, but then didn't bother to remove the rest of his clothes, or pull the sheets back on the bed. He merely curled up in the fetal position, with his arms wrapped around his chest. The softness of the bed, and his own weariness over the day and his own mental problems quickly pulled him to sleep.

"Cats." He sighed and rolled his eyes. But at least Silas vacated the few logs that remained. He flexed his fingers in his left hand. They had started to throb slightly, even though he had tried to protect them. It wouldn't be long now, though. After about ten minutes he had completed what was left. He stacked them neatly into a pile behind the shed, and then took an armful of the wood over to the door and into the kitchen. He looked over at Izira. "I assume you want this by the fireplace?"

Izira looked up as Gren entered. She's just closing the oven to keep the pancakes warm the old fashioned way without magic. "Yes." Wiping off her hands, "Follow me?" She left the kitchen and headed down the hallway passing a couple doors before she reached one that stood open. The fireplace that needed the wood was her own. Straight on from the open door a large wooden desk, stained a dark cherry brown faced the room. Behind it built-in shelves held various volumes. To either side the wall gave way to floor to ceiling windows, looking out on the gardens beyond. To the left of the room another door would lead to her bedroom. To the right, a two-sided fireplace split the open area of the room. A large bear skin rug occupied the floor before the fireplace. A couple couches and armchairs sat to the other side, creating a nice private area for visiting on the other end of the room. The walls that held the door contained still more built-in book shelves.

Gren follows her as she commands, down the hallway and through the door. He stares at the walls, and the various books they contain. "You must . . . uh . . . enjoy reading." He cringes a bit, that should have been obvious at the size of her library, but he was just trying to make conversation. He moves over to the fireplace and sets the logs down, brushing his hands a bit as he looks back at her. "Do you need any more, or is that enough for now?"

She doesn't think anything poorly of his comment, looking around at her shelves. Aside from the books, odds and ends are placed among the shelves. Some magical items she's procured, others simple personal items. "For pleasure and study. I have the time." Returning her eyes to Gren, "That is enough for now. Breakfast is ready." She turned and led them back to the kitchen, "Will you take any fruit with your pancakes?"

Gren trails behind her. "An apple would be nice." He doesn't really know what kind of fruit you would have with pancakes. Just having the pancakes is like hitting the jackpot with him, much better than another Journey Cake made out of corn meal.

"Had I known that I might have cooked them into the pancakes for you." A soft chuckle as they step back into the kitchen. Izira opens the oven and takes out a cookie sheet covered with a light towel. "There is coffee ready. Do you want anything more to drink?" She moved about the kitchen with ease, stepping around Gren smoothly and with a smile when she needed to get plates down. An apple taken down as well and rinsed off.

"No, I'll be fine. I'll just wait for you at the bar, so you can finish." He took a deep breath, enjoying the smells of the kitchen, before finding his way out to the bar, and having a seat on the stool. He had worked up an appetite from all the manual labor, and his mouth was already starting to water. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to comb it as best as he could, just then realizing he probably looked a bit scruffy from his exertions.

It didn't take Izira long to get things together, though it took a few trips to get it all out to the bar. First a stack of pancakes for Gren and a bowl of apple slices. She got him his coffee, creamer, and sugar while she was at the bar before slipping back into the kitchen. His silverware and two small pitchers brought out. "Maple and blueberry." Letting him know what each contained as she set out butter and a knife. When she returned she carried a plate for herself with a couple of pancakes and a glass of orange juice.

He watches her bring everything out with a goofy grin on his face, as if he's being served a four star meal at a fancy restaurant. Then he claps his hand on the bar. "Blueberry Syrup? No way. Now you're just spoiling me. How do you stay in business?" He grins and takes the pitcher of blueberry syrup and pours it all over his pancakes. Then he fixes his coffee, cream and sugar, before digging in on the pancakes. He rolls his eyes heavenward in delight. "Blueberry syrup." He chuckles to himself and tries to keep his mouth shut while he chews.

It even had fresh blueberries within. Izira helped herself to a bit of it after she buttered her own pancakes. "Blueberry is a favorite of mine." She cut a small bite from her portion, "They do not provide you blueberry syrup either? You should consider a different line of work." Jesting smile, she ate her bite of food.

"Heck, I can't even get the pancakes!" He tries to grin back through a mouthful of food. "Well, we do important work. We help people that can't help themselves, or are too far out to be reached by normal means. I tolerate it because of that. If I ever get a hankering for something in particular, I can always use my own money to buy it. Like pumpkin butter. You know."

She inclined her head to his point with a smile and continued with her breakfast. After a sip of her orange juice she asked, "Did you buy yourself a jar of pumpkin butter?"

"I . . . uh . . . yeah. It was good. Although I'm not quite sure why the call it "butter". In fact, I don't know why they call jam "Jam", or jelly "Jelly". I'm not much of a cook, I guess." He absently eats an apple slice.

"Different preparation processes." She offers to Gren with a helpful smile.

"Ah. Don't tell me, I don't think I can handle having my mind blown this early in the morning." He gives her a little wide eyed stare, then grins and drinks some of the coffee.

A soft chuckle. She settled into a peaceful silence while eating her meal, getting up to freshen Gren's coffee when needed.

Gren enjoyed his meal, and respected Izira's quiet time. He would have started worrying again that he had imposed himself on her peaceful solitude if it hadn't been for the fact that she said she wanted to visit the Red Dragon now that the pathway was open again. When he had finished his pancakes, fruit, and coffee, he watched her for a few more silent moments. "So when were you planning on visiting RhyDin again?"

She'd finished a bit before him and had cleared her dishes into the sink. As he finished she did the same for his own. "Today." A smile full of confidence at setting foot outside of the realm. "I think I will venture to the Shanachie Theater and see what is playing." A chink in her plan, she looked to Gren, "It has not closed, has it?"

"I don't think so." He watches her a bit apprehensively. "Would you . . .uh . . . like some company? I mean . . . maybe you'd feel more comfortable if you had someone with you."

She chuckles lightly, waving off his concern. "The last time I went I was alone. I saw an opera." Pauses as she recalls, "The Marriage of Figaro."

Theater went over his head, he had never seen a play, but hoped he could avoid his ignorance for now. "I never got to see that one." He gives her a nervous smile. "Well, if you think you'll be alright . . . I guess I'd better be going."

"I will." She assured him without question. "Thank you, for the offer." She touched his hand as she spoke, before drawing it away. A nod in understanding that he had work to attend to. "Feel free to return should you need another night's rest away from RhyDin."

He glanced down at her hand as she touched his. The feeling of warmth and peace of mind returned in that brief moment. He gulped slightly, and rose from his bar stool. "Let me get your key and my cloak." He made his way quickly upstairs and grabbed his grey cloak from the chair, pulling it around his shoulders and fastening it, and then he picked up the key and brought it over to the bar. "Thanks again, for the wonderful meals. And . . . ?He remembered how well his words went over last night.?I'll return. Whether for a room, or more pancakes." He smiled at her a bit.

Taking the key she held on to it for the time. "You are welcome. Safe travels, Gren." A warm smile.

"Enjoy the show." He turns, pulls his grey hood over his head, and hastily makes his way out through the door. Walking down the gravel path, he rubs his eyes with one hand. This isn't going to be easy. But then again, nothing for me ever is. He hoped Izira would be alright on her own. He wished he could be there with her. He made his way down to the end of the path and vanished from the realm, the air around him shimmering with blue light.

Glancing over his back at Jeremiah one last time, he maneuvered around to the gardens, where he had chopped wood the last time he was here. He still wasn't that familiar with this area of the realm, but he figured if he just stayed along the wall he would come to the door in the back that led to the kitchen. Peering around the side of the Inn, he looked for Izira, hoping he wouldn't startle her with his presence.

The lady sat on a blanket near the greater gardens in the back. Pascal, the rabbit, was curled in the lap of her skirt. She wore a blue, button up dress with a brown belt. Her brown heels were off and set to the side. Her hair was left loose this early in the morning. Her Amber-brown eyes looked the opposite direction from which Gren approached, watching two butterflies dancing in the air.

He halted there at the corner of the Inn and watched her for a moment. It seemed a shame to disturb her, resting there, enjoying the beauty of the gardens. He stared at her for another few moments, before he became self-conscious of the fact that Jeremiah or someone else might be lurking around, and he didn't want to look like he was up to something. He gently cleared his throat and spoke up. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

She turned when she heard him clearing his throat and smiled to his question. "It is." Since the morning dew remained, she'd brought out a blanket to rest on. "Care to join me?? She offered Gren a spot on the blanket with her. "Or are you very hungry?"

His eyes went wide when she asked him to join her. He didn't even realize she spoke the second question. Please God don't let out an "Uhh". "Uhhh . . .? Crap. "I will. Join you. On the blanket." He slowly moved over to where she was sitting, his knees and legs feel like rubber, but he managed to make it to his destination and sit down without anything embarrassing happening. He sat in an awkward, cross-legged stance, trying his best not to look like he's going to be sick from nervousness. He managed a smile, even though his throat has sudden gone dry as a bone. "Hello, Izira."

"Good morning, Gren." A natural smile was given from her for Gren before her eyes dipped down to the rabbit in her lap. She picked up a fresh bit of parsley and fed Pascal. He started his way down the stalk before devouring the leaves at the end while she looked back to Gren. "Have you avoided being bullied much since you left?" The softness of her smile was hopefully taking away any sting the words would have, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

Gren saw the kindness in her eyes and smile, although he couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy and befuddled at the question. His eyes and mouth waver a bit. She's just being nice, answer her. "I've been fine. Nothing to complain about." The topic being a sensitive one for him, he tries to change the subject. "Did you get to go to the Theater?"

Her eyes shifted as she watched his face while he responded. A soft smile to his reply, happy for that small fact he offers. Again her eyes lowered to the rabbit as he's sniffing around for something else. Lightly she stroked Pascal's black fur and fed him another piece. "I did. I spent the day in town at the market and caught the evening show. Arsenic and Old Lace. It was... rather amusing."

"Arsenic and Old Lace. I've never heard of that one." He didn't really know that many Plays, actually. "What was it about?" He followed her gaze to Pascal.

She chuckled quietly, trying to think of how to explain it. She set the rabbit off her lap, letting him go wandering, then shifted her legs to curl to the side with care. A hand lifted, tucking several strands of hair back. "The protagonist was a man well known for his bachelor ways and he ends up getting married to the... pastor's? daughter that lives across the street from his aunts... and.." She paused her mouth slightly open before she closes it and smiles, "I don't believe I could do it justice in the telling. They have two more shows, today and tomorrow. You should go."

Gren gazed at Izira while she gave her brief description, more focused on her mannerisms such as the tucking of her hair behind her ear than the actual words. His musing was broken by the words "You should go". "Uhh . . . yeah. I should go. It sounds interesting. I'm glad your first day back in RhyDin went well for you."

Tilting her head as he repeated that he should go, she wondered if he would but didn't press the issue. "I kept myself entertained, nothing much new there?, she said, smiling, as she poked fun at herself. "How have the days been for you?"

Gren looked in her eyes, then away at the gardens again. "I've been doing well. Keeping myself entertained, like you said." That seemed a bit weak, so he moved on to Jeremiah. "I see you've gotten a new customer since I've been here."

"A new customer?" She looked confused and then back towards the inn.
"Yeah. Large gentleman on the porch. Brown hair, green eyes. Smoking a pipe. Seems friendly enough. Said his name was Jeremiah."

"I did not know Jeremiah was about." She watched the inn a moment, before she looked back to Gren and quietly thought. As he said Jeremiah seemed friendly enough, she left it at that. "Are you hungry?"

He unquestioningly followed her as she swerved off the path. "Well, it seems that way. I mean, as soon as I walk through the portal, I'm right in your front yard. Both the portals I've been through. I mean . . . how far does it go?" Thinking about it again, her words caused him to wonder a bit.

"You will see." Passing a bench, she left the carrot sticks behind, and continued to cut a path through to the edge of the garden. Several feet away a thick forest waited, but her steps did not stop. Oddly, she seemed at place, moving through those woods in her dress and heels. A path opened before them as she led him into the woods and under the cover of the trees. The light was dimmer there. The path led up. Looking behind her, as she'd taken the lead on the path, she smiled to Gren. "You must feel at home in a place like this, being a ranger."

He did feel at home, although reentering the forest caused his senses to kick in, a natural response of his to being surrounded by trees. He unconsciously looked intensely into the distance, looking for signs of life, unnatural rustling, smells that should not be there, flickers of light between the leaves. "It does have a certain comfort. I spend most of my time in a place such as this." He does begin to wonder just where she is taking him, as he had no idea that the forest surrounding the Inn had any depth.

There are signs of life, and all manner of animals that Gren would expect to see in his own forest. "It holds a peacefulness to it."

"Yes, it does." He continued to follow her, watching her form as she walked the path in front of him. He resisted the urge to ask her where they were going, because he didn't want to show mistrust. So he phrased it in a different way. "There's nothing out here we need to be concerned about, is there?"

"You are with the most dangerous thing in these woods." A soft smile is displayed as she said it, though she isn't looking his way. Her look is curious when she does turn her head to glance over her shoulder, pausing in her steps. "I hope you are not afraid of me."

He halted when she did, although the look he gave her was one of puzzlement rather than fear, perhaps even a little taken aback. "Why would I be afraid of you? You're the kindest woman I've met in quite some time. I . . . you shouldn't feel like that." His words should have embarrassed him, but her suggestion that she was anything but the sweet Innkeeper he had become infatuated with was a wrecking ball aimed at his dreams.

"I do not." A bare raise of her lips, "But there have been times... I have seen pity in your eyes for me." A soft smile, she turns and continues on, "You do not need to pity me."

"No, no . . . !" He raised his hand, as his eyes filled with compassion. He thought she had gotten the wrong idea. "Izira . . . it's not pity. I'm just . . . ?, he begins, walking up to her to be close, looking into her amber brown eyes with his own ice blues. ?I'm concerned. I'm worried for you. You've been alone for five years. I know you said you have your animals, but that isn't the same as human contact. Someone to talk to. To . . . touch you. Sometimes you just need to see someone else so you don't feel so alone." He pauses a moment. "I should know, I'm alone all day, patrolling the forest. It's not like what happened to you, but it's similar." He gave another pause. "It's not pity. I cuh . . . I care."

A lot of words from the ranger and they still her steps as she turned to him. She looked apologetic for her judgment, knowing part of it was based on the misinformation she'd given him. Still, that was something she desired to keep to herself, for it was not her secret to share. "Five years here, even alone, is far better than many experiences I have had, Gren." It was a simple truth. She nodded, "I thank you for the friendship you offer me."

His eyes darted around her face, as he tried to process what she told him. He didn't mind her using the word "friendship", although he felt more than that for her, because at least it was a start. But his face couldn't help but fall, as he slowly dropped his hand. "Are you upset at me? For opening this world again? Did you really want to stay . . .alone?"

"If not you, it could have been someone else. No, Gren, I am not mad at you." She stayed mute on the subject that her isolation had likely been a punishment well deserved. Izira smiled, reassuringly. Her hand moved, to be placed under his arm. "We are getting close." She started up the path again.

He followed closely beside her, and fell silent. The light touch of her hand hooked around his arm is enough to console any fears he had that his presence was an intrusion. He couldn't help but glance at her face, and he tried not to have an expression of anxiety on his own. He gazed up the path when he wasn?t studying her features.

Closer to the top of the hill the trees broke, as the hill continued upwards. She released her hold on his arm once they were clear of the woods. She led him up, remaining silent on the way. The higher they went, more of their environs were available to see, such as the forest surrounding the inn, and a river cutting a path through. At the crest of the hill, a valley could be seen on the other side, the river and several tributaries, and snow peaked mountains far beyond them in the distance.

His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the magnificent view at the hill's summit. He gazes off into the distance at the white capped mountains. "This is . . . . gorgeous. Wow . . . ?. He looked down at the silvery river below them. "I . . . uh . . . ", then he just shuts up and enjoys the view.

"I should have brought the blanket." She thought aloud, but her voice is low, keeping the serenity of the scene.

"No, it's alright . . .? He reflexively puts his hand on her shoulder, and kept it there.

She glanced over to him, and she smiled to see that he was enjoying the view.

He returned her glance, and her smile, full of genuine admiration. Then his eyes betrayed a hint of questioning. "Why . . . did you show me this?"
"To show you that my world is not so small."

"You could have just said so. I would have believed you."

"I have believed many things people have said to me. Sometimes, it is better to see for yourself."

"Alright, Izira. Thank you for showing me this." He didn't want to argue and spoil the moment. He really didn't want to say much of anything right then.

"You are welcome, Gren." She turned her smile back to the view.

His gaze moved along with hers, and he stood there with her, for as long as she wanted to, just enjoying her company and the beauty of Mother Nature.

(Adapted from Live Role Play)

Monday, October 7, 2013


The pull of the Forgotten Layers called to mind -- to this elfess' mind, anyway -- the many stories she'd heard where the hero unspools a thread, a bright color to stand out amongst the dark forest or twisting labyrinth they find themselves in, a lasting means of finding their way in and out. She was on her way back from her portal excavation, earth and charcoal on her fingers from digging and taking rubbings, when she first noticed this unusual arcane thread. Her first instinct was that it was attached to a site or artifact of considerable power. Power meant money, money meant finishing the dig on time and finding her way home, so Noira kept following the thread well off the beaten track until she had no sense where she was anymore. She stood in the path, unwittingly not far from the Inn itself, and stooped to adjust her bootstraps, her backpack full of books and supplies clattering as it shifted to one side. "If this is the trick of some crooked-cocked conjurer, I'm going to be very upset," she said aloud, and pushed herself upright again.

In the woods, the path stretched on, leading to the Inn. Around a curve, the Inn would come into view. The white pebbled path, lined by white roses, circled around a tall fountain and terminated at the steps of the porch. Over the trees of the woods and Noira, two ravens called to each other, flying back to the inn.

It was the sound of the ravens that made her look up. Fingers curled clawlike into the empty air, ready for... she wasn't sure what, but the threat wasn't enough for her to call any of this place's latent power into her grasp to defend herself. Still, she viewed the Inn with a great deal of suspicion. Conceivably she could follow the thread back out now and end up... somewhere. Had it split before? She couldn't be sure, but eventually she decided to investigate the Inn. Every step of the way she was looking left and right, up at the sky, branches, rooftops and upper story, down at where her own feet fell; twice she walked backwards, curious if she was being followed. Then, when she reached for the door, a tiny bit of her own power flickered into the palm of her hand, enough to attempt a scrying, while she pressed one pointed ear close to the wooden surface to listen for noise within.

The sense of a grumbling from the realm and Inn as the woman pulled and prodded with her gift. Inside the Inn, Izira moved around behind the bar, checking her stocks and referencing an account book laid open on the bar. She had no sense of the guest just beyond the door. The two ravens perched on the right side of the roof, resting there and watching. A large orange tabby cat, perched on a stool at the bar, watched the door from inside. His tail flicked.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," she assured the Inn, withdrawing her hand to dismiss the spell. "Bones you're touchy." 'Bones' sounded like a swear the way she said it. She gathered loose hair behind her long ears, out of the way of her eyes in case something did happen after all, and pushed in through the door.

The lady behind the bar wore a light colored blouse, a blush of rose to its pale coloring, with a grey pencil skirt and heels that matched (though they could not be seen at that very moment). At the door opening, her attention turned that way, already a smile in place. A small hint of surprise as the one that entered is not the one she thought it might be, the (is it disappointment?) does nothing to waver the smile of welcome. "Good day, traveler. Welcome to you."

"Hello." Noira, still wary enough to watch the woman's expression, caught that she either was expecting someone else or was not expecting her. Probably. The elfess was not nearly as well-dressed, much of her clothing coated with mud and dust. "I don't think I've heard of this place before." It was as close as she'd come, for the moment, to admitting to a stranger that she was lost. She continued her approach, eyes flicking to the tabby with a bit of a smile she couldn't help. Cats were cute.

"Many haven't." Truth in the statement. "This is the Forgotten Layers Inn." Izira tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as Noira approached. "I am Izira." Amber-brown eyes moved from Noira to the cat and back. "And that is Silas." Taking in the mud and dust, but that seemed to be the way people looked when first coming to the inn lately, "Do you require anything? Something to eat or perhaps a drink?"

She was hungry. She paused uncertainly a few steps shy of the bar. "Maybe a hot sandwich, cider, and a refill for my canteen," she said with a polite smile, swinging her canteen off her shoulder and placing it on the counter. "My name's Noira," she added. "I don't mean to pry, but this place..." She paused again, struggling for the right words to describe it.

A nod to Noira's requests. "If that is what you require, that is what you will have, Noira." She picked up the canteen and moved to the sink to fill it. "This place?", she echoed the words. "It is not what you are used to? Where were you before you arrived here?" The canteen was filled and she returned it to the bar.

"Thanks," she murmured, sliding the strap back to her shoulder, canteen settling at her hip as she picked a barstool. "I was on my way back from an excavation near RhyDin when I noticed... a path. An arcane path," she clarified, "in addition to the physical path." She was still watching Izira closely, doing her best to read the woman's reactions.

"Another from RhyDin." She gave a softer smile. Having some understanding of magic, Izira nodded with knowing to Noira's description. She held up a hand, "If you'll give me a moment, I'll fetch your meal." Excusing herself, Izira passed through the swinging door that led off to the kitchen. Silas remained on his perch on a stool.

Noira stayed put, taking in what physical details of the room she could. As for the metaphysical? While it was a struggle for her to physically see arcane fields that did not wish to be seen, as an adept mage she had an innate, subtle sense of the magic around her. She was done checking it out in a minute or two, though, and then she looked over at Silas. "Hi, kitty," she said softly, and held out a hand for him to check out.

Magic is all around, in everything it seemed, in some small way. Even the cat that looked at her hand, taking a moment before he bothered to sniff it. Izira returned with a mug in one hand and a plate in the other, setting the plate before Noira. A grilled and pressed sandwich, with cheese and ham. "Did you want your cider hot or cold?"

Noira barely had time to set her fingers behind Silas' ears when the food came out. "Hot, please," she answered with a smile. "Can you tell me about this place?"

Izira set the mug on the bar for Noira, steam now rising from the hot cider. "What is to tell? It is an inn, Noira. Different from many others, but still, an inn. The realm... is..." Pausing and thinking of a way to describe it, "..placed along many paths. It is something of a safe haven for those that might have lost their way."

Noira laughed. "I think that describes me on a couple of levels", she said, which brought her to an important point. "Do you know the way back to RhyDin?" She looked at the mug... at Izira again, and then the mug, before raising it for a sip. It appeared she was not the only mage in the room.

A soft smile of understanding. "I do. I will fetch you a map to guide your return, is it easier that way." She moved further down the bar,opening a drawer and pulling from it a fresh piece of parchment. The paper rolled up. Izira closed her eyes for a moment as she wrapped a tie around it and secured it in place. Amber-brown eyes open again, she offered the guide to Noira. Unrolled, it would reveal a map to return back to RhyDin.

"Lawsuits, I assume. I've read the waivers, they look pretty airtight. I bet they were written by an adventurer," she added.

"We have a large selection of drinks and a well stocked kitchen, if you do change your mind", she offered, smiling in return. When her attention returns to Noira, her expression is curious. "Not a lawyer?"

"So you're a vampire," Noira said flatly to Errand's peculiar response to the offer of food and drink. The angle of her eyebrows, the slightly drooping line of her lips, everything in her body language said, 'Color me unimpressed'. "Adventurers often consult on contracts as a cheaper alternative to lawyers," she said to Izira, turning back to her, "considering the amount of contract law most of us have to know to do our jobs right."

A glance between Noira and the man. She nods to Noira's answer to her question, "That would explain it."

"Not by the standards of today, I'm coming to find out," in an answer to Noira, seemingly unfazed by the question. "So, you're an elf," rebuked back to her, with a raised brow, and a clear sense of amusement at her overall demeanor as those eyes turned upon her to hold.

"Last I checked. And adventurers have to know their contract law because adventures contain unexpected dangers as a rule. A smart adventurer will write their contract so they account for, and profit from, the unexpected. I know you don't get too many bards here," she said to Izira, "but what about adventurers?"

"I typically don't get much of anyone in here." Amusement in her smile as she looked between the two guests. "The last time I had a large number of guests here was... when the Noubretons were building."

"Noubretons?" Nonplussed.

He pulled out another chair, turning it so that it would allow him to face the two ladies, stepping forward and around it to seat himself, plucking at his shirt to ensure it's proper fit. "My inn has suffered a similar fate," he nonchalantly expressed toward Izira.

"Refugees."

"I see a lot of those around RhyDin," she said, setting her empty mug down. Eyes moved back to the vampire curiously.

Looking to the man with a smile, "It is not so much the fate of my inn as the way it as always been, sir. Tell me, what is the name of your inn?"

"The Inn of the Nocturnal," he expected Noira to find amusement in the title. In fact, he looked to her to indicate that expectation out of the elvish woman.

She snorted.

"Perhaps everyone is sleeping?", she offered with an amused smile.

"Or it could be a meeting spot for owl enthusiasts," she conceded.

"Yes, but not in my Inn, thus the problem," he said in an almost playful rebuttal. He was still watching Noira. "I can try to bite you if you want a legitimate reason to shower me with disdain," he mused. "I'd hate not to live up to your expectations of me."

Moving behind the bar, Izira opened a small cabinet and pulled out a clear bottle filled with a think red liquid. She turned, pulling down a stemless wine glass. "I request you not bite my patrons unless they truly desire you to do so", she said calmly, as she poured a portion of the red liquid into the glass and slid it across the bar.

"I'm sorry," she said in a way that did not sound very sorry, "but this is my first time meeting someone who's played coy about 'corrosive refreshments.' " She was beginning to feel a little self-conscious about how dirty she was after being here for a while. After inspecting her fingers for a moment, "Excuse me, is there a washroom here?"

"Over there", she pointed, indicating the short hallway by the bar that led to two washrooms.

"I'm afraid it's been a long time since I found this world and its denizens to be unpredictable," he admitted, cocky as it sounded, the voice remained calming and controlled in its inflection. "You needn't worry," he said turning eyes upon Izira, "little here could slake what I crave, were my control or intent in actual question."

Noira snorted again on her way to the washroom.

She stoppered the bottle again. "You might find yourself surprised. As said, we have a wide selection", she replied, tapping the glass she poured, as it was for him.

He rose from his chair, moving toward the bar. "I'm willing to humor you, though I meant I don't think you or your patrons would suit my pallet." Approaching the bar, he sent a hand outward, fingers curling around the glass to take. "Not every curse is the same, as I'm sure others who stake claim to being my kin have proven to anyone willing to listen to their emotional cries."

"I recall one from my memory. I knew him a night before he met the sun." A glance beyond the man and to the windows, "Evidently you do not suffer quite the same curse as he did." The red liquid is a blood wine, spelled to be as fresh as the day it was bottled. It was made from the blood of a goddess, gifted with love, lust, and luck.

"Yes, some are similar to myself. Very few, when you get down into it." He said, taking a slow draw from the glass. His face scrunched slightly. It was interesting to say the least. Perhaps potency caused him to stare into the pool she'd poured him. Needlessly to say, this was garden variety blood. "If nothing else, this is... nourishing," he admitted.

Noira returned to the bar, looking a little more presentable. Her clothes were still dirty from the dig that morning, but her face and hands were a lot cleaner now. "Blood?" she asked as she approached, taking a whiff and catching that familiar coppery scent. She'd been on her share of battlefields.

"I will be sure to pass along your judgement to Mr. Miru and tell him he owes me a better selection of stock." Her smile turns with amusement. Including Noira in the rest of her response, "I was told the blood wine was some of the finest. Reason enough to believe him when he did not disappoint with the Dragon's Breath or Glacier."

"No. This is a specially flavored water that one gives to Vampires so they can say they don't drink blood," he was going to torture the poor girl it seemed. His gaze still on Izira, he shook his head. "No, it likely is, I'm afraid my pallet is selective. This is quite strong, just not well suited for all."

"I have a few friends who use ritual magic... They might be interested in contacting Mr. Miru, if he's open to it." Errand, without being looked at, was given two fingers. It was not a peace sign.

"No one is sure," Noira murmured, coming back down the ladder after wrinkling her nose at the other texts. Apparently they weren't what she was seeking after all. "Around the age of seventy, he was never heard from again. There was another book of poetry released when he was eighty," she sighed, "but it's disputed whether or not those were merely notes released after his death by whoever might have ended up with his belongings. The last he was heard from, he was in a tavern sixty miles north of here, thinking about venturing out into the wastes. Though there, my knowledge of Toral ends," she admitted with a smile. "My scholarship mostly centers around the wealthy ancient dead -- people with ruins and tombs ripe for the picking." She leaned against the edge of her desk, opening Toral's poetic tome.

Izira did not correct Noira that sixty miles north of here was different than RhyDin, but nodded. "One could get lost in such a place." She gave a light gesture to the books. "I fear few of these are from the wealthy ancient dead."

"No, but this is very good," she murmured distractedly. "It was good of you... to show this to me... See..." She pointed to the end of a long poem. "I've read one of his other books, but in this one he's more specific about 'mountaintop prayers.' 'Above the Earth, where Life cannot cling to the lonely rocks, where Fire and Water far below are locked; where the Sky is thin, the Twin Moons sing, and when I reach for their silver rays, cold fire alights from my soul...' Meditating on lunar magic works better on high mountain peaks," she said with a smile. "And I'm sure he has a great deal more to say, too."

"They always do", she said, looking to the volume. "You are welcome to borrow it."

"Thank you," Noira laughed, "because I was about to order a room to stay here and read otherwise. I think it will be dark by the time I reach the city gates, so I should probably return to the road..."

Another dip of her head in understanding, "Safe travels to you, Noira. I will be here when you wish to return the volume."

"Don't worry, I transcribe quickly," she smiled. "I should have it back to you by the end of the month. Thank you for your hospitality," dipping her head on her way out of Izira's chambers.

"It is what I am here for." As Noira left, Izira's amber-brown eyes followed the girl to look at the man in the doorway. For the moment, Izira remained leaning against the desk. Her light colored blouse a blush of rose worn with a gray pencil skirt and gray heels.

He watched Niora's departure, before casting his eyes back into her privacy of her quarters. "She didn't seem too terribly fond of me, sad to say," he offered out. "How long have you been running this Inn?"

"You truly look torn", her words deadpanned. Her eyes carried away and looked over the volumes, "Fifteen years? Nearing that, at least."

"Do I?" He mused back at her, crossing his arms, shaking his head. "Fifteen years is quite a while. I've had mine almost as long." He tilted his head. "Did you plan to invite me in?"

"I thought I had." A pause, "You may enter."

"If you had, I missed it," he said, slowly making his way into the room and giving it a more full inspection as he moved on the slow gait toward her desk. "Not unlike where I keep myself," he said on a quiet tone, ensuring his path didn't carry him in even the dimmed direct light of the windows.

"Your inn, or a place other than that?" She straightened up from her lean on the desk.

"I stay in my Inn. I had it closed for some time when things took a down turn. I took a vacation of sorts," he said, moving around the light toward a bookshelf. He began to peruse it with his eyes.

"Of sorts?", she questioned, watching him inspect the books. "Did you acquire your somethings on your vacation of sorts?"

"I slept. For a decade." He said rather stoically. "I acquired my somethings a very, very long time ago," he added, reaching out to a tome, touching it with the tip of his finger.

"You must feel very well rested."

"If only it worked like that. When one awakens they can be very hungry. And when their pallet is very selective, it makes things difficult," he said before raising the hand that still had his glass. He took a sip, before turning toward her. "I'm afraid my 'curse' we often dance around, is very meticulous."

With him closer to the books it put the desk between them. She watched him curiously, "How did you manage upon waking?"

"I keep a stockpile of what I need, and so I consumed it," he said, casting a slow glance over his shoulder. "I'm looking for more, but the way I need it is not easy to come by, in the meantime, I'm settling for being merely sustained." He smiled to her. "And unless you plan on becoming overwhelmed with some kind of emotion, I wouldn't fret, it would be like eating plain lettuce as your only sustenance."

"It has been a while since I've been overwhelmed by emotion." The smile indicating that the situation he described wasn't likely to push her into that place again. "And I don't dislike plain lettuce."

"When it's all you have, and it's not fulfilling..." He shook his head, turning to face her full on. "Suffice to say I won't be a problem for you. I keep my machinations where they will do more good. A humble Inn keep needn't worry about me. There is a few local ruffians about, however..."

A soft laughter, "Humble inn keep." She nodded to his other comment, not addressing it but instead lifting a hand in a light gesture for the books. "Anything you like?"

"There's a lot more obscurity than I have, I'll admit. I won't know if I like them until I read them," he said, with a bit of a grin. "There are a few I'm curious about."

"I allowed Noira to borrow a volume. I am willing to do the same for you."

"Is that so?" He said, turning and moving along the rows. "Do you have any suggestions, then?"

He laughed, he seemed comfortable with the idea. "I'll let you in on a secret," he offered, closing his eyes. "I have an addiction, not to what you might think, but in making others... Let me rephrase that; my emotions are so far from my reach, I get something from seeing and tasting it from others." He tilted his head. "I often spend my time making others deal with things, so I can experience it, and it is from those persons I feed from, when I can. Some of what I say I don't even believe, and I will jump onto limbs with assumptions just to see what nerves are struck. Much of what you'd think are my assumptions are actually me gaining information."

"She listened, watching him. The tea cup not lifting to her lips. Quiet a while longer once he finished telling her his secret. Curiously, she asked,"And what information do you think you have gained of me with this tactic thus far?"

"Very little of merit, I'm sad to say," he said. "Though I suspect loss is what fuels most of your deterrence from some of my inquiries, not betrayal." He turned his gaze from her briefly as if to think. "You're surprisingly well adjusted, but I think perhaps it's brought you levels of apathy that even you're not finding ideal, though you're comforted by it." He turned his gaze back upon her. "Or that's my speculation so far, I'm not terribly confident in it."

"A thoughtful loom, she took a sip of the tea and did not immediately respond. Setting the cup back down onto the saucer, she admitted something in turn. "Part of the reason for my solitude is to protect others from me."

"Ah, that would make sense," he tilted his head. "Someone who doesn't embrace some element of themselves, however... What curse have you? If it's not a bother to ask." He said, clearly intrigued by her admission.

""Are you inclined to tell me what you take in your drink?" Tit for tat seemed to be the current means of information exchange.

"Emotion. Strong emotion present when the blood is drawn. Negative ones are far more rich to me. Unfortunately, there was something in what you gave me that sullied what I could taste in it. There was some form of joy, muddled by something else that was far too powerful and unneeded." And there she had it.

""Now that I know what I'm looking for, it will be easier to find." She set down the tea cup on the bar and tilted her eyes across the room toward the cold hearth. A fire crackled and came to life. "I am cursed with my father's blood. An elemental's gift and one I didn't understand for a very long time. My emotions made it worse, and the gift often pushed my emotions to extremes. A fire fueling a fire."

"I see," he said as he moved to take a seat on one of the stools finally. "Ironic we should meet then, isn't it?"

""You might have enjoyed it more a very long time ago."

"Perhaps," he said. "There are more layers to me than my curses," he admitted, without admitting much of anything at all. "Perhaps we could have been of great use to one another, then."

""Perhaps", she said, noncommittal. "Depends on when you caught me." A half-smile. She chuckled softly to herself. "This is the Forgotten Layers Inn, after all."

"Indeed, very fitting, an ironic coincidence, don't you think?" He inquired with a bit of a smile, faint, but genuine seeming.

""There is little coincidence to finding your way here." She paused, looking curious again, "You do know you've left the realm of RhyDin?"

"No, I was not aware," he said with a quizzical inspection of his surroundings. "The place is somewhat... fickle about its sense of boundaries."

"The grey cloaked Ranger slowly makes his way up the gravelly path to the front door of the Inn. He extends his hand and opens the door, pushing his grey hood back, and moves inside.

"You're likely to lose your way, never know where you will end up." She set the tea down and pulled out a blank piece of parchment from a drawer. Rolling it up, she tied it and closed her eyes but for a moment before turning back to the man. The rolled parchment offered to him, "This will guide you back." Looking up again as the door opened, it had been a busy day of now three whole visitors. Her smile is already in place but this time it doesn't lean toward the slight disappointment. "Gren."

He reached out and took the parchment with a smile. "Thank you," he said, setting it on the bar before him.

"Hello, Izira." He makes his way over to the bar and has a seat. He nods and smiles politely at the other man sitting there, before looking back to her. "How have you been?"

The new arrival was given a polite nod, from his place in his seat.

""I have had two guests today." A gesture of her hand for Gren to the man at the bar, "I would introduce you, but I have yet to gain his name for myself."

"Busy day! But good news. Nice to see things picking up."

"Errand." He gave out forthright, nodding his head in proper form for any introduction.

""Errand." Repeating, "This is Gren, the ranger. Gren, Errand runs an inn as well." She left off the part about Errand being an emotional vampire.

"Nice to meet you." He focused his ice blue eyes on Errand. "Glad to see Izira getting some new customers."

""Gren, do you require anything to eat or drink?"

"I would like a Broot, if you have one left."

"I'm not sure if I qualify as a customer, just yet. Wait until I pay for my drink." He offered.

""I have five left." As she didn't drink one, nor had anyone else. She moved and pulled a Broot out, opening it and setting it on the bar for Gren. Looking to Errand, "On the house."

He chuckles at Errand. "Alright then." He smiles to Izira as she serves the bottle of Broot. "Thank you." He takes a long swig from the bottle and sets it back down on the bar with a pleased expression.

"I guess I don't qualify just yet, then."

"Maybe one day you will. Although Izira is the generous type."

"She is, indeed," he said, casting a glance over his shoulder to his belongings at the table.

""Nor would Noira if you go by that." Looking from Errand to Gren, "As it turns out, I've had no customers today. Just visitors."

He grins at Izira. "Visitors is just a nice way of saying future customers." He glances around to see if the cat, Silas, is anywhere near.

"The cat had been here earlier, but he left when Izira showed her visitors the library. Perhaps he would appear later. Izira sipped her tea, glancing at Errand looking to his belongings and Gren looking around the inn. A brow lifted at both of them.

He turned his gaze back upon Izira, lifting his own brow in response, uncertain to her curiosity, giving an indicative look immediately after.

He doesn't find what he's looking for, so he glances back to Izira. "You know, maybe you should have one of those buffets like you used to do at the Great Helm. To drum up some more business."

""Your belongings?" For Errand. She considered Gren's suggestion. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she responded, "That might bring me more business than I am interested in having. Perhaps a better idea for Errand's inn... that is not for owl enthusiasts."

"Owl enthusiasts? What does that mean?" He was confused.

""Someone who is very interested in owls." There was amusement in her smile.

He gulps and then drinks some more Broot, mentally trying to piece together some explanation. "Of course everything you serve is special. I didn't mean anything by it." He muttered quietly to himself, then nods as if that isn't a bad defense.

Gren's response seemed to amuse him mildly. Who needed a stage, when there was life? He turned his gaze toward the kitchen.

The lady returned, carrying a large plate in one hand and the usual napkin wrapped silverware in the other. The plate set before Gren, she knew better than to offer Errand some. A 10 ounce steak, rubbed with a secret blend, and paired with asparagus.

His eyes brighten at the steak. "Alright!" His slip-up from before momentarily forgotten as he takes the silverware, placing the napkin in his lap. He leans down and sniffs the steak, giving a pleased smile. "Smells great, what'd you put on there?"

"To your liking?" She smiles, "Perhaps it is seasoning from elderberries." A tease and she chuckled, waving off his concern, "Just a simple seasoning."

Looks at her a bit dubiously, but only for a second. "Elderberries on a steak." He waves her off with a hand as if she had to be joking, then cuts off a piece of the meat and begins to chew, a happy expression on his face. "Indeed, much to my liking." He grins slightly.

He leaned with an elbow onto the bar to watch the scene now unfold.

"Would you say it's special?"

He gulps and pauses his fork in mid-air with a bit of asparagus. "Uhhh . . . Of course it's special. Everything you make is special. I was just wondering . . . if you had anything more special than usual. You know. Blue Plate Special. Special of the Day. That sort of thing." He manages a nervous, embarrassed smile.

"Why would a blue plate be special?"

He was grinning now, watching the pair. Particularly with Izira's comment, he passed her a knowing look, watching and waiting for Gren's reply.

"Good question. I don't know why a blue plate would be special. It's an expression. Like Jumbo Shrimp. How can a shrimp be jumbo? You know. Ah heh heh." He feels like he's sinking deeper into the hole.

"Because it is larger than the typical shrimp." She surely isn't helping.

"Buh . . . buh . . . but you see, a shrimp is tiny, so referring to it as Juh . . . juh . . . jumbo is . . . silly." Just like how he feels.

"Is it?" Curious look. She picked up her tea and took a sip, her smiling shining behind the drink.

"Yes. It is." He finally places the asparagus in his mouth. Rapidly shifts his eyes between Izira and his plate to see if that answered that.

Errand remained silent. This was better than any play.

A soft chuckle. Izira moved to settle into the stool behind the bar. "I do not run 'specials' here. I serve what folks desire to eat and drink." She gave a look toward Errand. "When I am able."

"I'll have to remember that in the future, then." Bit of a perturbed look to Izira, before he starts in on the steak again.

Errand gave a click of his tongue. "Perhaps you're able and perhaps my desired course isn't appropriate," he mused a tease at her.

He takes another drink of Broot and glances at Errand.

She smiled despite Gren's perturbed look. Errand's statement caught her off guard. "Perhaps." She agreed.

A thought suddenly strikes him. "Has that other fellow come back? Jeremiah he said his name was."

"... no, he must have left after you saw him."

"Huh. Seemed like a nice guy." He says absently, stuffing another bite of steak in his mouth.

"He has his moments."

"Don't we all?" He replies with a little grin. "I haven't seen Silas around either. He must be running around the garden chasing a mouse."

A small smile to everyone having their moment. In referring to the cat, she looked toward the windows. "He must." She picked up her tea again.

"So have you taken any more trips into town?"

"I haven't."

"Ah well." He finishes off his steak, and stabs his fork at the remaining asparagus spears. "Maybe you will soon. Like to see that new play."

"I have considered that a possibility."

"Well, you know . . . ?he starts, then gulps mightily, "Now that I've taken an interest in the theater . . . and you want to go again . . . It might be nice if we . . . you know, went together." He risks a look at Izira.

He cast a glance out the windows, smiling to see the light dim, at best. He motion seemed a tad livelier. He is amused by where this is going, clearly so.

The tea cup pauses before her lips and lowers down to her lap. "I hope you're asking as a friend and not out of concern of my attending a play alone."

Gren gets a deer-in-the-headlights look. "I didn't mean to show concern. At you being alone. I'm sure you can handle yourself. I mean, take care of yourself. I just thought you would like some company. To enjoy the play with. As a . . . friend. A friendly outing, yes. Just friends." The nervous smile comes back.

Using his elbow to prop, he lowers his chin into his hand, looking to Izira, quietly.

She stays quiet as she thought. Her face didn't betray her concerns. The half smile shows as she inclines her head, "As friends." She recognizes she has two sets of eyes on her.

"Friends. Of course. Friends. It's not like it's a *date* or anything." He laughs lightly.

"It's not." She agreed.

"Right. So we're both in agreement." He nods solemnly.

A glance toward Errand as he seems to be enjoying himself. She takes a sip of her tea and looks to Gren's plate. "Did you get enough?"

He was, indeed. It showed. He offered little more than a warming smile when she glanced his way, opting to remain silent.

Gren has a goofy smile on his face, Izira's words don't register for a few moments, then he gets a look of surprise. "Oh! Yes! I am quite full. Thank you for the lovely meal."

"You are welcome. If you will excuse me a moment." She stood up from her stool, setting the tea down on the back counter. What dishes needed cleaning, she picked up, and carried them into the kitchen.

"What kind of books was she into?"

"Journals written by sorcerers."

"Huh. I guess I should have known you'd have books like that considering your . . . powers."

"I have a lot of books covering a wide variety of topics."

"Oh, really? Do you have any poetry books?"

"Several. Would you care to take a look?"

"Sure, if you wouldn't mind." Some memory has piqued his interest.

"Noira and Errand both borrowed a volume, it seems fair to allow you the same." A final sip of her tea was taken, then she left the dishes with Gren's in the sink as she moved out from behind the bar. This time taking the hallway by the stairs back. The hallway ended at a door that opened in the the hallway that led from the kitchen to Izira's room. Turning right, down the second hallway, they quickly came to her private quarters. Her bedroom door is shut, having shut it earlier.

He follows her silently, taking note of the hallways again, and staring around at her quarters. "I was looking for anything by W.B. Yeats. If you have it."

"I believe... I recall that name." She moved toward the place along the shelves that she thought she recalled seeing such a book. Trying to banish, as she did so, the memory of Errand's oppressing closeness from earlier. The ladder is taken, slid down the rows to where it is needed, then she carefully ascends several steps. Her light blouse the barest blush of rose is paired with a grey pencil skirt and grey heels. A couple books carry the name, slightly further out that she expected. On her toes she stretches out, plucking the volumes out.

He watches Izira, smiling gently, as she stretches out for the books. He admired the stylish way she dressed, as always. He stands back and lets her locate the books. He takes another quick glance around, staring at the large collection. "Did you read all these books?"

"Not all of them." Two books in hand, she comes back down the ladder and offers them to Gren. "A number of them were here when I arrived. Left by former occupants."

"Ah, I see. Thank you." He takes the two books, staring at the titles. "I'll bring them back as soon as possible. There's this one poem I remember fondly. I haven't read it in years."

"Do you remember what it is called?" Curiously, as she steps back thoughtfully.

"I'm pretty sure it was titled "He Wishes For the Cloths Of Heaven". Some of the most beautiful lines I ever read. I hoped to maybe one day read it to the woman I fall in love with." Then he turns a bit red.

She stands a bit more distance than she has recently. She half-smiles to his words, taking in his blush. "She is sure to be moved." She almost opens her mouth to inquire if there's someone he likes, perhaps at the dueling venues, but instead stays tight lipped.

He glances down at the books, then back at her. "I can read it to you . . . If you'd like."

"A kind offer. But save it for the woman you love, I can read it for myself when you return the books."

He looks at her for a long moment, and then just nods weakly. "Alright then. That was all I wanted, for now."

"You're welcome to peruse the rest of my library to make sure."

"No. I'm sure. This is the exact book I wanted." He nods emphatically to her.

"I'm glad you found what you were looking for, then."

"I am too." He smiles at her, an odd, wavering smile. "I should be going now. What do I owe you for the meal?"

"The visit is payment enough." That must be true of everyone since she had yet to charge anyone outside of the minotaur.

"Thank you, Izira." He awkwardly clutches the books to his chest. "I will see you on Wednesday, then. One thirty."

Izira gave a dip of her head. "Wednesday, yes. Safe travels to you, Gren."

"Take care of yourself until then." He looks her in the eyes for a drawn out moment, then he turns and makes his way from her quarters, down the hallway and back to the bar area. He doesn't stop, but makes his way across to the door, and out of the Inn. He hurries down the gravel path and to the portal, where he vanishes in a shimmer of blue light.

Rhett gawked at Perrigan incredulously. ?What are you talking about??

Perrigan shifted his gaze slightly to Rhett. ?Those villagers are counting on us. There?s no one left to defend them. We have to drive them off this hill before their reinforcements come. Or we?ll be too few to stop them from destroying the village.?

?Headmaster, you saw what they did to those mercs. What makes you think we can do any better??

?We?ll go up in a ?loose? formation. Keep spacing between us, make it harder for them to target us, and easier for us to dodge. Get the Recon teams ready. Ferguson, you get your soldiers ready too. I?ll go alert Abraham. Wait for my signal.? Perrigan then silently made his way down the line to where his other Captain was.

Rhett shook his head, giving Gren a dumbfounded look. ?Is he kidding me? He?s got to be, this is suicide!?

Gren swallowed hard, and looked back up the hill. He glanced over to where his team members, Bernard and Crawford, crouched. They looked just as apprehensive as Gren and Rhett did. Haddon and Moriana were there, although Haddon was wearing a maniacal grin, and Moriana was just glaring at the goblins. He saw Perrigan nod hard at Abraham, down on the left side of the line, then come running up to the center. His voice boomed out as he addressed them.

?Rangers! For the safety of the villagers, we must take this hill! It may seem a daunting task, but it is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves! Keep your bows out, and fire at will! Keep distance between yourselves, and most of all DO NOT STOP! I will lead you into battle, for I could not ask you to do something that I would not do myself! Take heart, remember your training, and I will see you at the summit! Now FOLLOW ME!?

Perrigan had his bow out, pointed forward, and then leapt over the stone wall.

?Follow the Headmaster!? Gren cried, and he, Crawford, and Bernard vaulted the wall as well. The other Rangers all began to make their way up the rocky slope. Immediately, the rain of goblin arrows began. It was not as accurate as it had been with the bunched-up mercenaries, and the Rangers began to weave back and forth to avoid the deadly missiles. The cries of the dying mercenaries littering the ground filled Gren?s ears, as he tried to fire arrows at the goblins as best as he could.

Suddenly, he saw Crawford, who had gotten ahead of him, fall on his face into the grass.

?Crawford! Crawford, are you hurt?? Gren ran up to him and knelt down, turning him over. Crawford coughed and nodded in the negative.

?I . . . just tripped?, he said, embarrassed.

?Well, get up, I . . . ?Suddenly, Gren felt like someone had slammed a punch into his shoulder, and he toppled onto his back with a startled cry. He slid to a stop, and then looked at his left shoulder. There was a goblin arrow protruding from it. The pain caused him to grimace and groan, as he stumbled back to his feet.

?Gren!? Crawford turned to help him, but Gren shook his head, and pushed them both behind a nearby rock. ?I?m alright! Just give me a second . . . ?, he sat down momentarily, to snap the shaft off, so that he didn?t catch it on anything and do any more damage. If he pulled it completely out now, he?d bleed to death. Just then Ferguson, the Captain, reached Gren?s position.

?What are you two doing? Get up this hill before you get killed!? He waved them on, before going upwards himself.

Gren grimaced, then got to his feet, dragging Crawford with him, and ran for the crest again. Looking out at his fellow Rangers, he could see that Perrigan?s tactic worked. There were still twenty or so of the Rangers on their feet, although here and there he did see a grey cloaked form lying on the grassy turf. The arrow in his arm prevented him from using his bow effectively, so he just concentrated on keeping on his feet and moving forward. It seemed like an eternity, as though every missile in the barrage was aimed right at him.

Izira.

Her face suddenly sprang into his mind. He could see her sitting behind the bar, legs crossed, sipping tea, and tucking her hair behind her ear. They were supposed to see the play tomorrow at the Shanachie Theater.

I can?t die. I can?t die here. I have to see Izira again.

The arrows were falling thicker around him, piercing the turf. But Gren, picturing her face, focusing on their appointment for the next day, gave himself the resolve he needed. His arm still throbbed, and he was still afraid, but he found a new quickness in his steps. He sprinted up the rocky terrain, and as he neared the goal, he saw Perrigan lift his broadsword in the air, before turning his head to deliver an order to his soldiers.

?RAAANGEEERS!!! BOWS DOWN!!! BLADES OUT!!!?

Gren heard the sound of almost twenty swords sliding from their sheath as they neared the crest of the hill. His left arm was hurting badly, so he just dropped his bow on the ground, and pulled his sword out with his right hand. He could see the green skin and wild, yellow eyes of the goblins, who by now were staring in shock at the Rangers that were about to reach the top.

?TAKE THE HILL!!!?

Perrigan was the first to reach the summit. He launched himself into the goblins with a shoulder block, and then with a massive swing of his broadsword, began to cut a path through them. Shrieks and squeals of pain filled the air, as the other Rangers shouted and followed their leader into the fray. Gren drove his sword into the chest of the first goblin he saw, and black blood shot out of the monster?s mouth as it gurgled a death rattle. He crowned another on the skull with his hilt, before spinning and slashing another across the throat that had snuck up behind him. Pressing up to a crumbling windmill, he continued lashing out at the goblins with his sword. He threw himself against the faded wall, and peeked into the window to see if there were any goblins inside. Just then, a goblin leapt through the window at him, knocking him to the ground. Gren growled in pain as his wounded shoulder hit the hard soil, but he managed to lift his left hand up in time to catch the hilt of the goblin?s sword. They struggled briefly, before Gren aimed the point of his own weapon at the creature?s heart and stabbed him. The goblin shrieked in agony, his blood splashing on Gren?s shirt and cloak, before he finally went limp. Gren shoved the dead body away from him, and then leaned up against the windmill?s wall, trying to catch his breath. Tilting his head around the corner, he could see the goblins had been put to flight. The audacity of the Rangers? charge, coupled with the fierceness of their attack, had won the day. Gren slumped into a sitting position, and gulped in a few steadying breaths. Perrigan came striding up, and didn?t look like he had a scratch on him. The veteran saw Gren sitting, and moved silently through the grass, taking a knee.

?Are you alright, Gren??

?Yeah.? Gren produced a smile. ?Got hit in the shoulder. I?ll be okay.?

Perrigan nodded solemnly. ?Get it checked as soon as we get back. Take the rest of the week off. You did fine work today.?

Gren nodded and continued smiling at Perrigan?s kind words. The Headmaster then rose up, and moved slowly to the next fallen man. It was Abraham, one of the Captains. He had taken an arrow through the neck, and lay dead on the ground not far from Gren, his vacant eyes staring up at the sky. Perrigan took a knee, and laid a hand on Abraham?s shoulder. Gren shut his eyes and turned away.

I?m alive.

He opened his eyes again, watching the surviving Rangers milling about, searching the dead goblins, and tending their wounded comrades. He knew when he got back, he should probably rest and let his shoulder heal, but he took his survival as a sign.

It was meant to be. I can see the play with Izira. Nothing can stop me from seeing her now.

Cautiously and achingly, he lifted himself onto his feet, and made the journey back down the hill, his first steps towards home.

"I don't know if they serve Broot here", she says with a soft smile as she stands and waits for him to lead them out of the row. Walking with him back down the stairs to the lobby, she moves toward the table to pick up a glass of water for Gren and a glass of white wine for herself. Offering Gren his glass, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, I figured." He says with a bit of a grimace at the comment about not serving Broot, but it didn't surprise him that much. Down in the lobby, he takes the water that Izira offers him. "Thank you, that'll do." All the laughing made him more parched than he realized, and he drains half the glass before he answers her. "I am! It's very entertaining. I didn't expect the spanking." He grins at her. "I haven't watched many plays before. Maybe I'll have to change that." He figures he's talked enough and turns his attention back to her. "How about you? You seemed to be looking forward to this play."

"I enjoy forgetting myself for a while. The theater helps me to do that." A soft smile up, she finished the comment with a drink of her wine before looking at those also out to see the play.

He watches her, concern beginning to creep into his features. "How are things at the Inn? I was glad to see some new faces on Monday. Have things continued to pick up?"

"They haven't. But I am sure to see Noira and Errand again when they return the volumes I lent to them."

He wasn't there to see Noira, but he pictures Errand in his mind. He wonders what kind of books they borrowed, but he doesn't want to pry too much. "Have you heard anything from Eva yet?"

"I haven't", she replies with a half smile, trying to reassure Gren that despite that fact she remains fine. Looking down to her wine glass and turning it slightly. A pause and she looks up again, "How has the work of a ranger been treating you?"

"Sorry to hear that." He looks away off into the crowd for a moment, before looking back at her. "We had a . . . rough day yesterday. Some goblins attacked a village about five miles from where I lived. They called us in, as well as some mercenaries to get them out. The goblins dug in on a hill near town, the mercs charged them but got routed and left us. We had to go up that hill. Lost some men." He looks down at his empty water glass. "Bad day. Usually my news is more cheerful than that." He gives Izira a sad smile.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Gren." Her expression matched her words and soft tone. She looked away, finishing the rest of her wine and setting the empty glass on a server's passing tray. "Perhaps we should return to our seats."

He nods to Izira, as he places his glass on the tray as well. "Alright", he replies to them finding their seats again. He tries to block the memory of the day before from his mind, and put on a good-natured expression for her. "I hope Fred and Lilli work things out, I always like a happy ending."

"If only life were more like plays?" Moving from the lobby to the stairs to find retake their seat.

He follows her up the stairs and takes his seat next to her, putting his program back in his lap. "Would it, indeed." He glances to the stage, then back at Izira. "But I still believe I'll get that happy ending." He gives Izira a little grin, before watching the curtain rise for the Second Act.

She smiled, despite having no belief in that for herself. Likewise, she turned to watch the curtain rise. They return to see the play's play in intermission. She listens with interest to "Too Darn Hot" and then "Where is the Life That Late I Led??

He chuckled at Petruchio's black book and list of women he has to give up now that he is married. He shakes his head as Lilli's fianc?e from Texas knew Lois. Lois' song of always remaining true "in her fashion" makes Gren chuckle and roll his eyes. Bill kind of brought that on himself a bit, he thinks. He goes back to grinning when Lilli tries to get her fianc?e to believe she's being held by the gangsters against her will, but their garish costumes seem to convince the Texan that she is mistaken. Fred trying to dissuade Lilli from the boring life of a cattle rancher's wife, including the description of branding irons, makes him hopeful that she'll turn around, although that doesn't happen just yet.

Leaning forward in her seat as she listens to the love song written for Lois, she smiles softly and adds her clapping to those when the song finishes. A quick thing as the play continues to the gangsters finding out their boss had died. The song that the gangsters sing on brushing up your Shakespeare amuses and Izira thinks she must check her library for any publications by that author. At Lilli's timely return at the end of the play's play, Izira has to smile at the way everything works out as the two couples kiss as the play comes to a close. The curtain falls and Izira joins in the applause with the others in attendance. Standing and clapping as the actors come out to take their bows.

He rises and claps loudly as well, glad to see the lovers together as the play closes. He stares at Izira and flashes her a smile before the applause dies down, a silent acknowledgement of his enjoyment of the play.

She smiles in return, placing a hand on his arm as she returns to her seat. She leans closer so she can speak to his over the noise of people leaving, "I find it best to stay put until the crowd lessens."

Thursday, October 10, 2013


Izira is at the inn, moving around the tables to give them an extra polish. She wears a dress of gray and black lace with black peep-toe heels.

Gren had gone home yesterday and slept until morning. He woke, rolling the events of the previous day around in his head, thinking of Izira and whether he had said too much, or maybe not enough. After spending the morning lost in thought, he decided to make the trek to the Inn, and see if everything was alright. He marched his way through the forest, past the lakes, and into the pines, disappearing into the shimmering blue portal. Then he made his way up to the porch and opened the door, making his way inside after pushing back his grey hood.

Izira was slightly bent over a table as she polished it. She looked up and straightened. "Gren." The smile shows and fades, "I . . . did not think I would see you again this soon."

He focuses his ice blue eyes on hers as she rises from the table. "Well . . . I . . . wanted to see if you were alright." He glances at the polish and the table. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"I am alright." She moved the cloth she held to her other hand and used her right hand to draw some hair away from her face. "You're only interrupting cleaning. It is likely I will manage. Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, I would." He unconsciously moves towards the bar, and sits on a stool. He puts his hand over his mouth in a reflective pose as he waits for her to make her way there as well.

Cloth in hand, Izira moves through the tables and to the bar. She slips through the gap, leaving the cloth near the sink, and moving to the small fridge. There are still four Broots left and she takes one. The bottle opened and set before Gren. She wouldn't find the words until he was already enjoying his drink. "... are *you* alright, Gren?"

"Thank you." He took the Broot and drank a large swallow. He glances back at her as she asks the question. "I'm not sure how to answer that. I mean, I'm well. I don't . . . " God, just tell her, he thinks. "I was just thinking about yesterday. What we said to each other. I was hoping things were still alright between us, that things didn't get . . . awkward, I guess."

A small nod, she wets her lips, looking at her hands before her. Then up at him, putting on a smile. "Our friendship remains intact."

He lets out a joyless chuckle, and rubs his forehead after he does so, staring at the bar. "Well, that's a relief."

He didn't sound relieved, but Izira did not point that out for him. Watching him, she remained quiet.

"Let me ask you something. When we went through the forest, and looked out over the mountains, you said you thought I pitied you. Then when I asked if you'd see the play with me, you thought I only wanted to go so you wouldn't be alone. Like I saw you as a charity case. Is there something I've done to make you feel that way?" He looks back up at her. There was no sarcasm in his voice. He was hoping she would see it was a heartfelt question.

"You need not worry on that, Gren. You've said you do not pity me and I will take you at your word. If I thought it before, it was because... sometimes I thought I caught a glimpse of it in your eyes."

He looks at his Broot for a long moment. "I asked that because I don't think you understand what I think of you."

She swallows, before speaking softly. "I know you do not pity me." It is a repetition of facts already said, but said with the hope that it is enough.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?"

"I am not afraid.. of you."

"Then are you afraid of *something*?" He notices the pause in her statement.

"Gren.." Her soft voice is almost a plea.

He opens his mouth and lifts a finger as she turns to the kitchen and leaves, then slowly lowers it again and shifts his gaze over to Jeremiah. "She didn't seem too happy with that comment." He gives Jeremiah a pointed look.

"She will live", he says, leaning against the bar with his pipe.

He gives Jeremiah a displeased frown for a moment. "What did you mean by "How this place works"? Am I missing something here?"

"Many things." Jeremiah grins toothily.

"Why don't you give me an example then? Because other than being in another realm, this looks like just an Inn to me."

"Only one?" The man pointed his pipe to the fire place, a fire now burning there.

Gren looks oddly at Jeremiah when he points his pipe, then he glances over to the roaring fire in the hearth. He gapes a moment, before looking back at Jeremiah. "Uhhhh . . . .? He jabs his thumb over his shoulder at the fireplace.

"What's the matter, boy? Cat got your tongue?" The man chuckles again in thick amusement.

Gren just stares at him for a few more moments. The 'cat' reference doesn't register yet. "Who exactly are you?"

"I am the only one you can talk to", he replies, matter-of-factly. A thick hand rested on his thigh and he looked as one waiting for better questions to be asked.

Gren's forehead crinkles as he tries to process that, then he spins in his stool to look at the window that Silas ran out of, then spins to look at the door Jeremiah walked through, then finishes his 180 degree turn in the chair to look at Jeremiah.

"Meow."

"Aw, geez". He rubs his forehead with his hand. "Aw, geez!" He remembers petting the cat and talking to it like it was a person. "AW, GEEZ!" He remembers asking Silas to put a good word in for him with Izira.

Jeremiah waits for Gren to finish, patiently smoking his pipe.

Still with his eyes shut, covering them with a hand. "Were you the one that dragged me upstairs the first day I was here?"

"I was."

"Well, that answers that." He pauses, fearful of the next question he's going to ask. "Are you Izira's . . . boyfriend?" That would explain a few things to him.

He laughs, very loudly and for some time. Eventually he can manage a shake of his head.

"Oh." He brightens a bit at that. "Well, I . . . you know . . . the "Breakfast in Bed" comment . . .? he tries not to turn a shade of red, but fails miserably.

He waves off the comment, much as he waved off Izira earlier. Straightening, his features take on a serious set. "I am the Guardian of this realm, this Inn, and the lady Izira."

"I see." He doesn't quite know what to say to that. "Uhhh . . . so why do you feel the need to run around as a cat?"

"Because its form takes less energy to maintain." Izira's comment that Jeremiah would tired himself likely made more sense now.

It does make sense now. "Why isn't this place for the 'common wayfarer'? You shot down my Blue Plate Special idea, and Izira didn't want to do a buffet like the Great Helm."

"This place isn't a business. It's a sanctuary." A thoughtful and deep crease forms in his brow. "A place for those that have lost their way."

"Well that answers a few questions, too." He thinks a moment, rubbing his chin. "How did Izira get to be the Innkeeper?"

"She came to the realm when we needed one."

"Izira said she'd been trapped here for five years before I showed up a few weeks ago. What happened?"

He scratched his beard, "The paths closed because the realm was dying. More than that, I cannot say." He pointed his pipe toward the back of the inn. "I leave the lady to tell her side of it."

He glances questioningly at the back of the inn, wondering what the big secret is, but figuring he can just ask Izira later. "Alright. How big is this realm, anyway? I originally thought it was just the immediate area around the Inn, but Izira showed me the valley through the forest, with the mountains in the distance."

"It is more vast than you could travel in a lifetime and it is ever expanding."

"Ever expanding? That sounds . . . " Odd. "Interesting." He thinks for a moment. "Do you have anything you want to ask *me*? I know I said some . . . things to you about Izira. Like, put in a good word for me? How do I talk to her? That sort of thing."

"You talk to her by opening your mouth, same as anyone else." He shifted and stood.

"Heh, alright." He watches him stand. "Are you leaving?"

"Do you have more questions?"

"Not right now. But, uh . . . thanks for answering the ones I did ask."

A short nod, the man fades from view, his energy sapped as Izira predicted.

"Uhhhh . . .? He kind of points as Jeremiah vanishes, then glances around the room, wondering if he's still there in ghost form. Grimacing a bit, he turns as if to contemplate what just happened, when he sees he's barely touched his food. He semi-panics and starts shoveling it in his mouth quickly, not wanting Izira to think he didn't appreciate the meal she cooked him. He washes it down with his fresh Broot. The quickness of his eating causes him to belch. He covers his mouth a little too late. "Excuse me." Just in case Jeremiah was there and heard.

No response or indication that Jeremiah or Izira is aware of Gren's actions.

Gren pushes his plate away and stares at the kitchen door for a moment. He remembered Izira saying she had gone to her quarters. That would be the place to find her, he supposed. He stands up from the bar stool, and makes his way around the countertop. He quietly pushes the kitchen door open and makes his way inside. He was looking for the hallway that he carried the firewood down that time he chopped some for Izira. He silently walks down the hallway and comes to the door, which he gives a few raps to alert Izira of his presence.

The door stood open. Izira rarely made a habit of shutting it. She sat behind the large desk, but had turned to look towards the fire that burned in her private hearth. Amber-browns lifted towards the knock. "Did you have enough to eat?"

"I had plenty, it was very good." He walked forward a bit until he stood within the room. "Jeremiah and I had an interesting discussion."

"He has many interesting things to say." Her eyes return to the fire.

"Why didn't you tell me he was the Guardian of this realm? And Silas for that matter?"

"I protect his secrets as he protects mine." The amber-browns go to Gren again.

"Is it a secret how all the paths were closed here five years ago? He didn't want to tell me."

"It was my doing." Her eyes lingered on Gren before moving to the flames of the fire.

He returns her gaze until she looks back to the fire. "Do you want to tell me about it? That seems an awfully extreme thing to do."

Friday, October 11, 2013


Gren got home and spent a sleepless night staring at his ceiling, or out the window from his bed. The things Izira said to him made him feel he was close, so close to finally realizing his dream with her. But the fears she had raised were fears he had held as well. Would he be enough for her? Could he say the right things? Do the right things? He had just ended a relationship himself not too long ago. He didn't want to be hurt or used, either. He tossed and turned in his bed, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Dawn broke and Gren rose sluggishly from his bed. He tried to go through his normal morning routine, but he barely had the willpower to wash and dress himself. He didn't bother to have breakfast. Should I go now?, he thought. I have to. After everything she said to me. I have to. I have to let her know I care. He glanced at the book of poetry he had borrowed from Izira's library, tucked it into his cloak, and marched out of his treehouse and towards the portal to the Inn. His pace was brisk, and he made it to the portal quicker than he ever had. It was about noon when he arrived, appearing in the shiny blue lights and making his way up the gravel path. He opened the door, without his usual hesitation, or mental preparations, and stepped inside.

Izira sat at the piano, playing a soft melody. The notes sung of sorrow and regret as her fingers traveled the keys. It was a blue tune, one that didn't quite match the happier blue of her dress. She didn't look up at Gren's entrance but went on with the song. Cat and ravens nowhere in view, Izira had been alone.

Gren was not prepared to see and hear Izira playing her piano. His mind immediately raced to the conversation he had with her when he travelled back to 2008. I'll probably never hear you play piano, he had said. He stood in the doorway for a time. Then on silent feet, he made his way to a chair in the sitting room. He had no way of knowing whether she knew he was there or not, but he did his best to remain quiet. He watched her in her lovely blue dress, playing that sad melody, and tried not to get emotional. He covered his mouth with his hand, leaning his elbow on the armrest of the chair.

She played on for several minutes and if the song had a story to it, it seemed to have a sad ending. Slowly the notes died away and fell silent. She remained still as the quiet grew. A breath taken, she turned slightly on the piano's bench. A muted smile offered to Gren. She had heard him enter. "Thank you for your patience."

His hand lowered slightly to his chin, exposing a sad smile. "It was my pleasure. I wanted to hear you play something." He remembered his joke about the "Unknown Symphony". "What do you call that song?"

"It doesn't have a name." Fingers trailed over the keys but brought no sound from them this time. She lingered at her seat as though hesitant to leave a dear friend, but eventually she found her feet and stood, her amber-browns taking in the light from outside. "Did you come for lunch?"

'Uh heh". He laughed briefly when she says the piece has no name. Not mockingly, more like a close friend telling an inside joke. The sadness left his smile then. He waited a few seconds before he answered her. "I could eat something."

"Something special?" It is softly delivered, a friend with little rest jesting with another. She's already moving toward the kitchen door behind the bar.

"Everything you make is special. I thought I told you that." He rose from his chair, keeping his ice blue eyes on her, and he slowly makes his way to the bar.

"You have." A soft smile was given. She stopped behind the bar long enough to set out a Broot for him. One of three left. A finger moved to pull several strands of hair behind an ear. Izira turned and slipped away into the kitchen.

He sits down on the barstool, and wraps his hand around the Broot. The combination of lack of sleep, hunger, and nervousness were making him light-headed. He took a long sip of the Broot, and watched the door, thinking of what he was going to say to her when she reappeared.

Izira did not stay in the kitchen for long, having already put some effort into the meal she was serving earlier. She's away long enough to spoon a healthy portion of the seafood chowder into a wide bowl and cuts several slices of fresh bread onto a plate, adding a roll of butter. "No red meat." Reminding him she remembered as she carried the plate and bowl to the bar. Silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin placed beside the meal. "Would you care for anything else, Gren?"

"Just for you to sit here with me." He still has a good natured, if sleepy expression on his face, as he unrolls his silverware and places his napkin in his lap.

A nod, she fills herself up a glass of water and took a seat on the tender's stool behind the bar. One leg crossed over the other.

"Does that... bother you?" A tilt of her head as amber-brown eyes regarded him.

"No, it doesn't bother me. I guess I didn't expect it because the past relationships you've told me about have all been men."

She nodded, his words true enough. "Dytannia." She offered the woman's name to him.

"What was it about Dytannia that attracted you to her?"

"Aside from her looks? Her strength. Though it also made her a rather... hard woman."

"That sounds like my last girlfriend."

Izira blinked a bit and then looked a bit ashamed as she looked down. "Oh.."

"What's the matter?" He looked at her, not sure why she was feeling ashamed.

"The way you talk about women... I thought...."

"You thought what?" He replied, egging her on.

"I thought you had yet to have a girlfriend."

Gren's face fell. "What the . . . ?he set his spoon down and threw his hands up in the air a bit. "Why does everyone think I'm a virgin?"

She winced slightly at his reaction. "I am not the first?" She gave an apologetic look to him.

"No, you're not the first. So you don't have to beat yourself up about it. But do me a favor and tell me just what you meant by "the way I talk about women". Maybe it will enlighten me a bit."

"You yourself said that you are nervous around women. Nervousness tends to speak of... inexperience?"

"I am nervous around women, but not because of inexperience. I had told you my nervousness had to do with my lack of . . . self-confidence." He grimaces a bit, and clears his throat, pushing himself to continue. "Once I'm . . . intimate with a woman, all that nervousness goes away, because I know she accepts me. Then everything is alright. Does that make sense?"

Another soft nod. "How did it end with your... last girlfriend?"

God, that's a whole 'nother story. "Uhhhh . . . she left me. She told me that I was kind and deserved someone who loved me." Basically. His voice doesn't sound convincing.

"You are. And you do."

"I don't know what to say to that." He sheepishly looked at his bowl again.

"You do not have to say anything, Gren. But it is true."

"I guess we all deserve to have someone who loves them."

There is a pause one word changed out for another. "Gronnard?"

"Well, almost everybody."

Her smile fell slightly and she nodded.

"I'm just kidding, Izira. Maybe if things had been different for Gronnard, he wouldn't have become who he was."

Monday, October 14, 2013


Gren had been busy for the next few days and had failed to see how Izira had been doing since their last conversation. It hadn't been anything life threatening, like the charge up the hill from the day before the Play, but it had demanded all of his attention. The Rangers had been hired to guard several important shipments of gold ore through the forest, deliveries that would make or break the fledgling mining company should the cargo fall into the wrong hands. Luckily the destination was RhyDin City, and Gren was able to duel and spend the night there, before trekking back to the mines in the morning. It was Monday afternoon before Gren got back to his house, tired from the three days of steady work.

He was about to take his clothes off and grab an early nap, when he noticed the map to Forgotten Layers on his nightstand. Izira. Damn. He wondered if he would be able to get to the Inn before nightfall, and maybe grab a late meal. I better go now if I want to see her. Maybe she'll let me stay in the guest room again. He knew she still wanted time, and he was willing to be patient. He didn't want to screw things up at this point. Grabbing his grey cloak and putting it on, he hurried out the door and through the woods. He came upon a pond with some beautiful white lillies growing near the edge. Izira might like these. She's always got flowers around. He picked enough for a bouquet and continued on his way, past the lakes and into the evergreen glen. Stepping through the blue lights of the portal, he made his way up the gravel path to the door, took a steady breath, and pushed his way inside, drawing his grey hood back.

Izira stood at the top of a short step ladder behind the bar. Stretching up on her heels, she placed a silver-black bottle on a high shelf, sliding it further back behind several other bottles. She wore a pale rose colored cami beneath a white lace button-up top, paired with a brown belt, grey skirt with a short slit at the front right, and soft brown sling back heels. With her focus on the bottle, Izira slightly turned her head, looking carefully over her shoulder. A smile already worn ready to greet her guest, it seemed a hint wider. "I'll be done in a moment."

"Take your time." He replied, admiring the view. He casually made his way over to the bar and had a seat. Trying not to eyeball Izira too much, he glanced up at the silver-black bottle, wondering why she had it down in the first place.

The bottle put where she wanted it, she carefully made her way off the step ladder. A singular finger tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she turned her smile again to Gren. "I was beginning to think you lost the way." She jested and the playful nature of her words come out in her smile and eyes.

"I . . . uh . . . " He smiled a bit abashed, even though it was a joke. "I was on a mission. Guarding shipments of gold ore from a new mine. Just got back a few hours ago. I came over as soon as I could." He gulped a bit, the last sentence came shooting out of his mouth before he could stop it. "I brought you these." He hurriedly lifts up the bouquet of lillies and presents them to her. "Thought they might look nice . . . on the bar."

"Lilies." Izira looked to the flowers before accepting the bouquet with both her hands. She gently inhaled the flowers' scent and smiled. "They're a favorite of mine."

"I'm glad you like them." Yesss. "How have things been here?"

"I fear you would find life here dull compared to your life as a ranger." Speaking as she moved and found a vase for the flowers. She settled them into water and a simple crystal glass before arranging them. "I have slept, cooked, did a bit of this and that, and spent more time than I should need to chasing Pascal in the gardens. He's become quite playful as of late." The vase lifted up, she moved out from behind the bar and headed for the hallway that lead to the back hallway from the main room. A tilt of her head invited Gren to follow. "No sign of Jeremiah, as cat or man, but it isn't a concern. The realm continues, so I know he remains in some way."

She seemed talkative and cheerful, so he is at ease enough to rise from the stool and follow after her down the hallway. He pictured Pascal running around the garden looking for carrots and he smiled to himself. "I like the peace around here. Sometimes I need that after being in danger for days at a time."

The mention of danger has her glancing back at him, she worries for his safety somewhat and it shows before she puts her mind to other thoughts. "I know you said you thought the lilies would look nice on the bar, but I think I would rather enjoy them in my quarters." Smiling down to the flowers, she adjusted one of the blooms. She moved from one hallway to the other and then her personal quarters.

Gren had plenty of time to battle his paranoia as Izira remained in the kitchen to cook. When she finished, she returned to the space behind the bar carrying a tray that she set before Gren. A small cup of butternut squash soup and a small fresh loaf of bread with butter sat beside the plate for the main dish. A baked chicken breast, sliced and still juicy, paired with asparagus spears and a small salad. A light lemon pepper white sauce over the chicken. The tray came complete with napkin and silverware.

"Man, I don't know how I'm going to compete with all the great meals you've made for me." Grinning, he unfolded his napkin and took out the silverware. He cut into the chicken breast while it was still hot and juicy, and took a bite. "Mmm. Lemon pepper. So what did you have in mind for me to cook for *you*?"

She fixed herself a glass of water while he ate. "What is your favorite dish to make for yourself?"

He leaned back a bit, blinking. "Well, usually I just hunt a deer for my supper. The meat last for a while, me being by myself. I guess I can make Venison. If you're not a vegetarian."

"I am not." Amused smile into her water, she sipped. "Venison it is."

"Great. I'm sure you'll like it. Other than that, I'm afraid all I could offer you is Journey Cakes. And I don't think you'd find those very appetizing."

"I could bring some vegetables from the garden, guide you through a couple easy sides?"

He probably could have made some simple vegetables himself, but he wanted Izira to help him with the cooking, so they could do something together. "That would be great! I mean, I'm sure I could warm up a can of corn, but you have a certain touch with these things." He held up his fork with a few asparagus spears stuck to it approvingly.

Canned corn. She is glad she offered to help. "You'll see its little trouble once I show you."

"Hey, I forgot. How about dessert? I'll try to whip up a cobbler or something. Cobblers are easy, right?" He's starting to get way too into this.

"I will leave dessert to your care then."

"Yeah. Cobbler. I'll figure it out." He smiled and went back to his meal. "Oh, man, I guess I should have started with the soup. Or salad." He took his spoon and started rapidly gulping down the squash soup, trying not to make noises as he did.

"That you enjoy it is all that matters to me." A light smile as she sipped her water, remaining quiet for the time as Gren is eating.

"Oh, I do. I spent the last three days eating green apples and beef jerky. I wouldn't recommend it." He smirked a bit as he chewed his salad.

"Were... the apples supposed to be green?"

"I think they were Granny Smiths. I hope. They did taste a bit . . . sour. But at the time, I just grabbed anything I could find. We were on a forced march, so to speak. 'Don't stop until you get to RhyDin City', they told us. Luckily for us, I don't think any of the local orc or goblin tribes thought there was anything worthwhile in the new mines, so we didn't get attacked. It was a good couple of days, in that regard."

A soft chuckle was given at Gren hoping the apple was supposed to be sour and not just gone bad. "Do you have any more marches planned this week?"

He looked at the far wall thoughtfully. "Nothing major that I know of. The Diamond Quest is on Sunday. Other than that, my week is pretty open. How about Wednesday or Thursday? That'll give me some time to prepare." At this point he's tearing through the food. Not messily, but he's starving after his three day march.

"Thursday, then. I would hate for you to feel rushed." Said with a smile, she set her glass down and moved off to the kitchen, slipping out of view.

"Thursday sounds just . . . uh, fine." He said with a mouthful of chicken. He craned his neck a bit to see why she ran off to the kitchen, then shrugged and went back to finishing off his meal. It disappeared pretty quickly.

A soft smile, though she gave no verbal indication if that person would be dining alone or not. Izira turned the topic, "Tell me, Gren, when would be a good night to watch you duel? I am... curious to see you at it."

"Hmm. I probably won't make it to the Outback until Wednesday. That's where most of the people I know are. So either then, or maybe Saturday, at the Arena. Sunday is the Diamond Quest. I'd love to see you there for that, but it could get . . . " Bloody. "Intense."

Intense sounded like more than she wanted to deal with, just yet. "What is the difference between the Outback and the Arena?"

"The Outback is where the fist fighting takes place. I'm more successful there, but the people can be a little . . . brash. The Arena is where the sword fighting is. I've never held a title there, but the people can be nicer. Plus there are magical wards that make your injuries disappear, should you suffer any in a fight. In the Outback, you're supposed to wear your cuts and bruises with pride." He chuckled.

She doesn't chuckle with him but smiled her understanding to the thought behind it. "You fight with a sword?"

"No, I use a staff. I don't have any desire to cut or harm someone, other than what naturally happens when I'm involved in physical combat. Dueling at the Arena keeps my skills sharp. It's not often that I have to use a sword."

"I never have to use one." Now she chuckled. "Perhaps I will come watch you at the Arena on Saturday."

"That would be great! I'd love to see you there. Hey, Rena will probably be there and you can say Hi to her too."

"That would be nice. I will have to remember to bring her a pie if I do come out."

He's smiling broadly now. "Dinner at my place on Thursday, Dueling on Saturday. You better watch out, Izira, people might think we're more than friends."

She smiled, watching him with those amber-brown eyes of hers. A slight tilt of her head. "Would you allow people to think that?"

"Me? In a heartbeat. I recognize you're not that comfortable with it, so I'll try not to use the "girlfriend" word. The "date" word might slip out once or twice though. I hope you don't mind."

Her lips press together, but it's to mute a smile. "I might forgive it."

"Well, that's good, you see . . . ?, he can't help but smirk playfully, "it's a purely defensive measure. I wouldn't want anyone to think I'm playing the field. A guy can get a reputation as a ladies' man otherwise. You don't think I'm a ladies' man, do you?"

"I... hadn't gotten that impression." She thought he'd been quite the opposite, but that didn't seem to be something that needed bringing up right then.

"No, you think I'm a . . ." Then he coughs, remembering she basically called him the "V" word. "Anyway, I'm glad we'll be seeing more of each other. I . . . uh . . . I missed you these last three days."

"Work's kept you busy." Her amber-browns looked down to the bar.

"Yeah. Those kinds of missions don't happen very often though. Normally I'm not gone for more than a day or two at a time. So I hope . . . I won't be away that long again."

Her cheeks colored slightly at his words. Izira isn't sure what to say. Instead, after a lengthy pause, she tipped her head toward his drink. "Do you need something more to drink?"

He watched her, her pause and colored cheeks giving him hope. He blinked a bit at the question, then looked down at his empty bottle. "Oh! Uh . . . yeah! That'd be great. Heh, I inhale these things sometimes." He held up his empty bottle a bit and grinned sheepishly.

"It is no wonder they opted to use you to market it." She took the empty bottle from him, her fingers brushing his hand as she did so. She took the empty away and exchanged it for a new bottle that she opened and set before him.

"Uh . . . thanks" The softness of her hand, even for a moment, gave him a warm feeling. It took a second for him to collect his thoughts. "I know I got here late . . . How long do you stay open? I don't want to interrupt if you had something planned for this evening."

"The inn is open for as long as it is needed to be. I will eventually require sleep, however."

"Of course! Sleep. I didn't mean *that* . . ." So what did you mean? "I just meant, if you've had a long day and need to turn in, just say so. If not . . . I could stick around for a while. Maybe you could . . . give me the room upstairs I stayed in last time. I wouldn't mind staying the night again."

"Rest isn't calling to me yet." Moving from the bar, she opened the cabinet for the keys and took down one, bringing it back to him. "Shall I keep the care package until morning?" Speaking of the bag she'd packed up for him.

He takes the key from her. "Thanks. Rest isn't calling me just yet either. You can keep the package until morning." He nodded to it. "I thought maybe . . . we could sit by the fireplace for a while."

"If you would like." She nodded her head for him to go ahead, "I will join you after I put this away." Taking the brown bag of food, she went back into the kitchen.

He nods and smiles. "Great. My friends? Sure. There's about two hundred people in my Ranger Guild, so it could take a while though, heh. Anyway, my two best friends in the Guild are on the Recon Team I lead, Team "B". Bernard is younger than me, maybe 22 or 23, he has red hair. He's one of the most cheerful guys I know. The other is Crawford. He's the same age as Bernard, but he's kind of . . . " Cowardly. "Well, he's not the courageous type. But we get the job done."

"You are friends with all the members of your Ranger Guild? Or it is that you apply the term very loosely?" A tease lived in her smile, implying that if it is the latter she might have to reconsider her assumption that him calling her his friend meant much to him.

"Well . . .? He looks down, a bit embarrassed at her teasing smile. "No, they aren't all my friends. But I do get along with most everyone. Except Recon Team "A"." Here he frowned a bit.

"What happened with them?" Shifting in her chair and leaning toward him, curious.

"Boy, where do I start with that one. Well, I'll start at the bottom and work my way to the top. Team "A" has three people, just like my team. Haddon is a bald man, really big. Bigger than Jeremiah. He has a crass kind of laugh that always makes you feel like the butt of a joke. Then there's Moriana. She's a Drow. Got lost in the woods as a little girl and the Rangers found her and took her in. She very rarely ever talks to anyone. Mostly just scowls. It's a shame, she's a pretty woman, but she just drives everyone away. Then there's Rhett, the leader." Here he pauses, and takes a lengthy drink of Broot. And where do I start with him?

She drank and waited quietly for Gren to continue, curious and interested to hear him talk more about himself and those he knows.

"Rhett is a good looking guy. Blonde hair, dimpled chin. Great Ranger. But he knows it, and he's arrogant about it. We came through training together. Me, him, and . . . Janna. We had a falling out. A mission went bad, and he blamed . . . he got angry with me about it. He didn't think I was fit to be a Ranger. And to prove it . . . he seduced my girlfriend. Janna. We've been at odds ever since."

"I'm sorry Gren." A frown was given at the actions of Rhett and Janna. Gren said 'seduced' not 'tried to'.

"Well . . .? His voice does have a touch of sadness in it, but he moves on. "Maybe it was better that way. I wouldn't want to be with someone that doesn't want to be with me. If she really loved me, she would have stayed true to me." Gren thought that probably sounds lame, but it's what he had to tell himself to give himself closure.

A soft smile, she looked back to the fire.

"I tried to let go of what happened, move on with Rhett, but he can't let things go. I try not to get in his way, and he stays away from me. So that's just the way it will be for now, I suppose."

"I have heard that living a good life is the perfect revenge." Not that she's handled it that way much in her own history.

"Heh. Funny thing is . . . I don't really want revenge. I'm not trying to sound holier-than-thou. I just . . . want it to be over. We were friends. We're both good Rangers. I respected him . . . God, that mission, if things had been different, we'd be best friends."

A sad smile for Gren, one hand left her glass to touch his arm gently.

Her gentle touch seemed to open that part of his mind, and the memories of that mission came flooding back. He felt he had to talk about it, to let it out somehow. "There was this village up near the mountains called Quiet Springs. They sent word to us that a band of orcs was assembling and getting ready to raid them. Our Headmaster sent ten of us there to see what the fuss was about. But we were too late. The orcs had overrun the village and . . . they killed everybody. They . . . " He stops, his mouth starts wavering. "We walked right into them, didn't even realize they'd taken the village. They cut eight of us down . . . we were surrounded, just me and Rhett. We fought like demons, trying to get out of there. Then Rhett pulled me into a burned out school . . . " He stops, his face contorts as if he is going to cry.

It is a hard story to listen to, but she does not turn away nor take her hand away. When Gren's face contorts, she set her wine down and moved to sit on the arm of his chair, her hand moving to stroke through his hair once. "You do not have to tell me if you are not ready to share, Gren."

He looked up at her, his eyes turning red, he swallowed hard, then he glanced back at the fire. "They had burned the school down. With the children inside. Aw Jesus, they were just little kids . . . " A tear rolls down both his cheeks. He tries not to look at Izira, but he continued. "I . . . froze up. Rhett nearly got killed with me not watching his back. He practically had to slug me to get me to snap out of it. I did just long enough for us to get out of there. But we made it back. He never forgave me though. Said I almost got him killed, said I didn't deserve to be a Ranger. I shut myself in my room for three days. That's when Rhett seduced Janna." He covered his eyes with a hand, leaning his elbow on the armrest. "I'm sorry. I . . . felt the need to let that out for some reason."

There is an odd tension in her when he spoke of burning, but she did her best not to let it show. Another soothing stroke of her hand was given to his hair. "You've no reason to apologize Gren."

He sniffed loudly, wiped a hand across his face, and tried to chuckle, although it came out humorless. "So much for keeping things light this evening, huh?" He still tried not to look at her, afraid if he did he'd break down. He leaned his chin on his elbow and tried to steady himself with long, deep breaths.

Her hand moved through his hair a third time as she spoke. "One thing I can tell you from your story is that Rhett's heart is not half as good as yours. I will not pretend to know the worth of a ranger, but you are worth more than him as a man." Her hand stilled, paused, and drew away to settle into her own lap.

Gren finally looked at Izira, he's composed himself by now, and he gave her a warm smile. "Thank you. I don't think I've talked about that in five years. I beat myself up over it for the longest time." He placed his hand on the hand she set in her lap. "I'm alright now."

Her flesh is warmer than usual. Amber-brown eyes gazing to Gren's ice blues. She nodded, swallowing. "I am glad."

Gren feels the warmth of her skin, the closeness of her body to his. He gazed into her eyes as well, and unconsciously, his head moved closer to hers, until their faces were just inches apart.

In the moment, her head tilted slightly forward, her eyelids lowering. It is only a second that she's on the brink of giving into the thought that has been in her mind. Her eyes close in pain just as she drew back and stood, turning away to compose herself. "... I'm sorry."

Gren doesn't move, other than to watch her rise and step away. Then he blinked several times, more to snap himself out of the moment, before swallowing. "No . . . I, uh . . . it was my fault. I shouldn't push you." He stood slowly from the chair, and walked over to her, placing a comforting arm across her shoulder. "Maybe we should call it a night. I can go back home, if you're uncomfortable with me staying upstairs tonight."

She didn't move away from his arm. "It's... not you?, she said with a soft sad chuckle, because even she knows how awful of a line that is. Amber-brown eyes look to him again and they show her fear and sorrow. "When you learn what I am, the things I have done... I cannot imagine you will look at me the same."

"We all have a past, Izira. We all have regrets. I wouldn't judge you on who you were. All I see is who you are now. You're a lovely, sweet, compassionate woman. I can't imagine seeing you as anything other than that." He wrapped his other arm around her, and pulled her to him in a warm embrace. "Just like you told me, you don't have to tell me until you're ready."

A sad smile before she rested her head against his shoulder. Her thoughts raced through her histories, of her own fires. "When I'm ready...? she replied in quiet agreement. Still, even with his comfort, she feared the way he would look at her when he knows. She is afraid to hope for anything different.

He leaned his cheek against her head, swirled his hand comfortingly across her back, and holds her for as long as she needed to be held. "We'll get there, Izira. I have faith we will. Then all these memories . . . they'll be like a bad dream."

She is silent, holding back a reply that offered nothing positive. After a moment she gently pulled away. "Thank you, Gren, for the visit. I will have breakfast ready for you in the morning."

"Alright then." He smiled gently to her, resisting the urge to touch her face, merely keeping his hands on her shoulders for the moment. "Good night. Thanks for listening." He then let her go and headed for the stairs.

Izira remained in the mainroom, watching Gren leave. Once he's upstairs she picked up her wine, looking to the glass before deciding she'd had enough. The glass is poured out and set in the sink, the lights of the inn dimming as she headed for her own quarters.

Gren moved up the staircase, turned the key in the door and shut it behind him. He then leaned backwards against the door, covering his face with both hands. God. Shakily, he wiped his face off, and walked to the bed. Taking off his boots, pants and shirt, until he was in his undershirt and boxers, he climbed into the bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. He had been physically exhausted as it was, but now he was mentally drained as well. He barely had time to think of the events of the last hour when his eyes closed and he drifted off into slumber.

"I'll have to check in with my Headmaster this morning, to see if he has any assignments for me. But hopefully I won't. We should be okay for Thursday, if you're still up for it."

"I am."

"Great. I'm looking forward to it. As many times as I've come here to your home, I want you to see where I live."

"Your adult sized tree house."

He smiled warmly at his plate. "Yeah. With the tire swing and the secret entrances. I'll have to show you the special knock so you can get in without being pelted with water balloons."

"I should wear a coat, in case I forget the knock."

"An umbrella wouldn't hurt, either." He looked back at her, popping a piece of the fruit in his mouth.

She smiled though that sorrow from yesterday remains. Izira did her best not to let it show. She will have to tell him her history at some point, but for the morning she wanted to keep this. "I have one or two of those."

"You're all set then. What time should I come by to get you? I was thinking maybe 3, that way we'll make it to my place around dinner time."

She took his suggestion as a good one. "I will be ready by three."

"Alright then." He tried to wolf down the last of his omelette. "So, do you have anything planned for today?"

"Nothing."

He gave her a long look, and swallowed hard. He had been rushing his meal so he could check in with his job, but just then he remembered what she had said to him during last night's meal, how she implied the time flew when he was around. "I can . . . come back tonight. If I don't have an assignment. Maybe we could walk through your forest again."

"Seeing me again so soon will not spoil Thursday?" The tea cup held in her lap as she sat turned to him.

"No, it wouldn't. Not unless it would for you. There's nothing I'd rather do than spend time with you again."

She could kiss him for those words, but she didn't. She only smiled. "I will see you tonight."

"Alright." He stood up from his bar stool, grabbed his cloak and pulled it around him. "I should get going then. The sooner I check in, the sooner I can come back."

"A good plan." Ready to see him off, she nearly forgot the bag of food. "But you must not forget..." She stood and went around the bar to pick up the sack and set it on the bar for him. "This. I would hate if lack of coffee hindered those... budding friendships."

"How could I forget your amazing cooking?" He gave her a big smile and lifted the sack over his shoulder. "This ought to keep me busy for a while. And keep me on Haddon and Moriana's good side."

"Safe travels, Gren."

"Take care of yourself. I'll see you soon." He lingered for a moment, wishing the bar wasn't between them. But he knew it wouldn't be long before he saw her again. Keeping the smile on his face, he turned and marched to the door, slipping outside.

Gren had made it home, to put the care package that Izira had given him in his kitchen, and grab his bow and sword to make the trip to his Headmaster. Just as he walked out the door, he came face to face with Moriana, the drow from Recon Team "A". She was glaring at him, her arms crossed, one hip cocked to the side. "Uhhh. . . hey Moriana. What's going on?" Moriana made a series of finger gestures, ending with pointing at the sky, and making a house shape with her fingers. "Perrigan wants me at Blue Sky Village? Aw man, I was going to go back and see Izira." He fretted as he tried to find a solution, as Moriana continued to glare at him. Finally he looked up at her. "I know. Can you give Izira a message for me? Tell her I'm sorry, but . . . Aw, crap." Gren forgot Moriana doesn't talk, and Moriana had been narrowing her eyes at him dangerously. "Hold on", he said, and ran back inside to write a hasty message, then marched back out, handing it to Moriana, along with the Forgotten Layers Map. "Please. Can you take this message to Izira, who lives here? You have to go through the portal." Moriana shook her head no, and scowled. Gren pulled out the bag of coffee that Izira had given him. "I got that coffee you liked. Hmm?" Moriana batted her eyelashes at the bag, eyed Gren for a moment, then nodded yes, taking the bag, the message, and the map. Gren sighed and marched off to Blue Sky Village.

Blue Sky Fall Festival

Wednesday, October 16, 2013



It was a long, boring two days of escorting the Mayor from one 'photo-op' to the next. Kissing babies? Shaking hands with the locals? Eating Grandma Jones' Famous Apple Pie? Check, check, and double check. Gren alternated between following the Mayor around, and patrolling the village's border, in case one of the local orc or goblin tribes decided to crash the proverbial party. Luckily for him, nothing of note happened. Easy, slow, and monotonous, but Gren was grateful for the inaction. The Mayor decided he had enough 'face time' with the populace, and turned in early that day, giving the Rangers a few hours to enjoy the end of the Festival.

Gren absently walked down the main bazaar, looking at all the interesting things that were for sale. Mostly there were baked goods, like pies, cakes, cookies, and pastries. There were also jams, jellies, butters, and marmalades. It was hard to know what to pick out from all the choices laid before him. Everything smelled so good, he was content to just meander along and appreciate the warm scents. He did find a farmer who was selling cobbler mixes. "Three easy steps", it promised. That's just what I'm looking for, he thought. He grabbed a Cherry-Pineapple mix, as well as a few chocolate chip cookies to snack on while he finished looking around. He knew Izira liked wine, so he purchased a small bottle of Red Merlot. Then he came upon a hunter's stall which had slabs of venison and various kits with which to prepare them. The hunter was a large woman, bigger than Gren, and she looked down at him like she was staring at a small child.

"Well, little man, how'd you like to try some of my venison steaks? Best cuts this side of the Great Forest." She laughed, a booming sound, and crossed her arms.

Gren was holding a cookie up to his mouth, and paused in mid-bite. He swallowed and lowered it slowly. "I . . . uh . . . hunt my own deer. What I was really looking for was a . . . recipe. Something different."

"Ah, you didn't strike me as the chef type. This must be for a woman, huh?"

"Maybe", Gren answered evasively.

"Don't be shy, honey. Love makes the world go 'round. HAH HAH! Alright, Little Ranger, I've got something right up your alley. Here's a kit for you, Venison Steaks with Balsamic-Boysenberry Sauce. You get the balsamic vinegar, boysenberry preserves, blue cheese, and pepper seasoning. All the instructions are included. Just fry it up and it's sure to please your little lady. But don't call it "fried", say "pan-seared". It makes it sound fancier, if you know what I mean." The woman gave Gren a subtle wink.

"Uhhhh . . . ", Gren looked at the woman sideways.

"Aw, don't be that way! It's only ten silver nobles. You won't be sorry."

"Well, alright", he replied and pulled out ten silver nobles. The hunter moved from around the stall to collect it and hand him the kit. "You didn't have to call me 'little', you know."

"HAH HAH! That's funny! I like you, little guy! Now run along, I'm sure your gal can't wait to sink her teeth into what you're about to cook for her! Or sink her teeth into YOU for that matter! HAH HAH HAH!" She gave him a hearty slap on the back, nearly shoving Gren forward three feet, and moved back behind her stall. Gren shifted his shoulders, grimacing a bit, and made a quick getaway from the exuberant hunter.

Thursday, October 17, 2013



The next morning, he set out into the forest to find a fresh deer to hunt so that he would be prepared for the dinner. After several hours of stalking through the forest, he found a medium sized one that would suit his purposes. Shooting it with his bow, he dragged the body back to his house, where he skinned and filleted it as neatly as possible. Storing the fillets in his kitchen, he glanced at the sun, realizing it was almost time for him to leave. He changed his clothes, and quickly exited his house, marching rapidly to the portal to the Inn. He was excited and grinning openly. He couldn't wait to see Izira again, and spend time with her over dinner. He walked through the portal, the blue lights becoming less wondrous and more a routine part of the journey. He opened the door, pushing his hood back simultaneously, and hoped she would be at the bar, waiting for him.

She wasn't immediately at the bar, though a basket waited on the counter. It held asparagus, onions, seasons, oil, garlic cloves, and butter. It was only a moment later that Izira stepped through from the kitchen, wearing a dress in green and blue. "I thought I heard the door." Smiling, she held up a roasting pan. "Do you have a roasting pan?"

"Uhhhh . . . " Gren had all these things planned to say to her after being away for two days, but they seemed to vanish from his mind when he saw her again. He just kind of blinked at her for a long moment, staring at her dress, until the mention of a roasting pan snapped him out of it. "Pan? Oh, you know, I have a few, but if we're going to be making a big meal, I could probably use all the pans I can get. Being a bachelor, I don't do much cooking." Not elaborate cooking anyway. He walked over to the counter and looked at the basket before looking back at her. "It's good to see you again, Izira."

"I will bring this one." She added a tube of foil to the basket and then the roasting pan turned upside-down over the whole thing after Gren had gotten his look. Izira leaned against the back of the counter, "It is good to see you as well, Gren." A pause and a gaze, she smiled and stepped away, pulling her eyes away at the same time. "Tell me about your mission?" She asked him the question while rounding the bar and coming out.

"Oh, it turned out to be no big deal. The mayor of Blue Sky is paranoid that someone is going to kill him whenever he goes out in public. I can't judge him too badly. I have some weird phobias myself." He tried to chuckle, but then he realized he just admitted that to Izira, so he tried to cover it by soldiering on. "Anyway, we had to guard him during their Fall Festival, and everything went like clockwork. I was able to pick up a cobbler mix and whatever else I needed for tonight."

A brow lifted at his mention of phobias, but she would leave that off for the time being. A hand was placed on the side of the basket. "I am ready to go... on one condition." There was a tease in her smile.

Gren momentarily looked bewildered, but wiped it off his face. "Whatever you want."

"You carry the basket." She didn't think it even needed asking, but she enjoyed watching the changes in his facial expression.

He opened his mouth to say something, then just grins slightly. "Whatever madam wishes, I am nothing if not a gentleman." He swept the basket up into his arm like the maitre d' at a restaurant, then gives her a slight bow. "Shall we?" He gestured dramatically towards the door.

Looking him over with a tilt of her head, the smile didn't leave. "We shall." She stepped for the door. The lights of the inn started to dim as she left it.

He followed behind her at a trot, getting to the door before her and gracefully opening it for her to step through. "You always open the door for a pretty lady." He said, as if trying to impress her with his gentlemanly manners.

"I cannot picture you opening doors for Moriana." She gave a soft chuckle as she stepped through. "Thank you."

At the mention of Moriana, he broke character so to speak, and started chuckling. "No, I imagine she'd probably punch me in the nose if I did something like that." He walked beside her as they went down the stairs of the porch and down the gravel path. "I hope she was civil with you, at least. I was in a hurry and I couldn't send anyone else."

"Civil enough for her, I believe." Izira walked beside Gren, allowing him to lead the way on their journey to his home. "I saw you gave her a bag of the coffee."

"Yeah, I had to give her the Wutroth coffee you gave me so she'd deliver the message. Haddon will be a bit upset, but I'm sure if I just tell him the name, he'll be able to find it himself." They disappeared into the portal, the blue lights dancing around them, and found themselves in the evergreen glen. He led the way towards the cluster of lakes that are the landmark he remembered which point the way home.

"Perhaps she will share with Haddon?" Izira didn't know much about the group's dynamic, but thought to look on the bright side of things. "Either way, I can always send more back with you."

He laughed lightly, not at Izira, more thinking about Moriana. "Moriana's not the sharing type. She probably won't even let him know she has it. Yeah, I wouldn't mind bringing him some, next time I'm at the Inn. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "The others were accidents. I couldn't control the fire. It came when I wouldn't have it and left me to fend for myself when I needed it. I wandered on my own for three years before I ended up in the orphanage." She didn't feel the need to explain how bad that place had been, how the mistress cared very little of finding the kids homes and more about finding coin to fill her pockets with. "That's where my Master found me." A shudder ran through her and she willed Gren not to move away.

"Go on." He whispered softly. He had no intention of letting her go, and his strong embrace affirmed that.

She was silent at first, though Gren had bid her to go on. She couldn't find the words to tell him about her time with the Wizard, the man she called Master. Weakly, she skipped to the end of the story. He had held her for five years. "I was seventeen when I killed him. Another fire. One I willed to start. That's when... the gift grew more out of control. I slipped in and out of spells of madness. I don't know the names or faces or number of those I hurt then."

He remained quiet himself, letting her finish before he spoke. "Izira, that doesn't sound to me like a cold blooded murderer. That sounds to me like a confused child, hurt at being abandoned, and not knowing what they were capable of. And you Master . . . " He felt her shudder, and he remembered her look from the other night. " . . . I'm sure you had your reasons. Am I uneasy about your power? Of course I am. But you're not a hurt, confused child any more. You're not an angry teenager. You are a mature, caring adult, and you strike me as having plenty of self-control. I am not afraid of you, Izira. And I'm not going to judge you."

"I am not used to the control I have... I fear it won't last." The words are out and she quietly chuckled, though without much humor. "It is no wonder you hold such concern for me... all you hear is how much I fear everything." She pulled back, offering him an apologetic smile.

Gren shook his head, giving her a look of warmth. "No, I understand. To have a power like that, to be able to take lives with it, it's a heavy burden. The madness you speak of, to think that you can't control it . . . your fear is understandable."

"Thank you." She is glad to have that burden lifted, having told him what she could and having him still there.

"I could probably tell you a similar story. About the first day I can remember."

"You don't look the sort to start fires."

"That's true. As far as I know, I'm just a regular human being. Nothing special about me." He took a deep breath. It wasn't a painful memory, more confusing than anything. "There were these two mages that ran this little academy out in the forest a few miles from RhyDin City. Arillon and Shann. They were doing some yardwork before the new school season started, when they saw me shuffling down the road towards them. I was covered in blood and burns, and my clothes were smoking. They ran to me and took me inside, to try to help me. They told me later that the only thing I could say was my name. They said what little clothes I had left signified me as a Ranger. But the blood wasn't just mine. There was three, maybe four different people?s blood on me. Arillon asked the local Ranger guilds if they'd ever heard of a Gren Blockman, but nobody did. So he asked my Headmaster, Perrigan, if he could take me in. Perrigan agreed, thinking maybe it would jog my memory. But it never did. I have no way of knowing whose blood that was, or why I was on fire. I have nightmares about it sometimes, but that's it."

"Have you.... ever gone back there?"

He swallowed. "A few times. I thought maybe they'd have some information for me, but . . . nothing. I appreciate them saving my life, but it's a bit . . . frustrating."

With a soft smile, she stepped back to Gren and gently took his hand, squeezing it lightly.

He squeezed her hand back, still gazing at her warmly. "Let's go make some dinner, huh?"

She nodded, letting go of his hand so he could pick the basket back up.

He picked the basket up with his right hand, and he put his left arm around Izira's shoulders, steering her toward where his treehouse was.

She leaned against him as they walked, silent the rest of the way.

After a while, they finally get to his treehouse. It was a massive oak, with a door at the bottom, and up in the branches, it looked like a house had been built. There were several windows and the roof seemed to blend in with the leaves. "Here we are. Remember, its two knocks and a whistle. Else . . . ? He made a dramatic downward arc with his hand as if to signify the trajectory of a water balloon.

She looked the structure over, quite amazed with what she was seeing. "Shall I practice?" She stepped up to the door and made two knocks before she whistled. Amber-browns looked back to Gren and then up. No water balloons.

He shook his head sadly. "The raccoons and the squirrels must be asleep. I told them to guard this place with their life! Well they're not getting any more acorns from me, I can tell you that." He gave Izira a little smirk, before pulling out his key to open the door.

She gave a soft chuckle as she stepped back to allow him to get the key in and the door open.

"I must be a natural. You know, now that you mention it, maybe I could help you with that buffet you're planning."

"You could." She agreed to the idea easily. She crossed her legs, accidentally rubbing Gren with her foot. She smiled down at her plate as she drew her foot back. "It would be nice, to have your help."

The touch of her foot filled him with a warm sensation, just like when she touched his shoulder, or his hand. He tried to keep his composure, and enjoy his meal, but he can't help staring at her sitting across from him at the table. "Then I'll be there. Any time you need my help . . . I'll be there."

She chuckled softly, "Do you wish to give up being a ranger and become my chef?" There was teasing in her tone. A sip was taken of the wine.

He tried some of her asparagus, and the roasted onions, and tried not to chew with his mouth open. "I didn't realize you needed that much kitchen help." He pictured in his mind, him being the chef, and Izira being the hostess, and the two running the Inn together. "But that's not such a bad thought." Maybe one day. "Someday I might not be able to . . . I might not want to be a Ranger anymore."

"I will be sure to keep your resume on file for... someday." She gave a bit of a smirk before she tried a bite of steak with a slice of onion. She kept her elbows off the table and set her fork down between bites.

"I . . . just meant it's dangerous what I do. I enjoy doing it, don't get me wrong. It gives me a great feeling to help protect and serve people. But it is physically demanding, and . . . " Hazardous to your health, to put it mildly. "Not something I might be able to do for the rest of my life."

"Do... many rangers live to retire?" She understood all too well what hazards he faced in his job.

He swallowed his food. "Not really. Perrigan is the oldest I know of, that's why he's the Headmaster, I guess. He's in his mid-fifties. His best friend and second in command is named Westerguard. They're the same age, they've been Rangers for decades. He's called the "General". He leads the "Soldiers", the Rangers that go into the field and see active combat. I'm one of the "Soldiers". Most of them don't live past their thirties."

Her smile took on a sad turn, "I would like for you to live longer than that."

"I would too. Believe me. I want to grow old, have a wife, maybe kids. I tried not to think about it too much. The job meant everything to me. My relationships were few and far between, so I never had cause to think someone was worried about me. Lately . . . things have been different. I've been thinking about it more."

Her cheeks colored slightly and she looked down to her plate, taking another bite of the meal. Her mouth full gave her an excuse for not responding or asking further questions.

He watched her cheeks flush, and he couldn't help but smile. "It's not a bad thing, Izira. It's just human nature. To want to be safe. To want to be loved." He looked down at his plate for a moment. "I keep thinking about that hill I charged up. The day before the play. Those arrows falling around me, and all I could think about was you. Your face, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way you lay your hand on my shoulder. It was a good feeling. Gave me . . . something to look forward to."

"You flatter me... but... I would hate to think something happened to you due to your distracted state." She looked to his shoulder. "I... have gotten used to your visits. I enjoy them."

"It wasn't a bad distraction. It was a good one. I was nervous, scared more like it. Men were falling around me and I was running straight at a horde of angry goblins waiting to kill me. I don't think I would have made it had I not had . . . that something." He paused. "I enjoy my visits too. I wish I could come more often. I wanted so bad to walk in the forest again with you."

Through his words, she continued to look down, afraid of what looking directly at him at the moment would reveal. "We will have time to walk there again. You... could walk me home Saturday, after I visit the Arena."

"Alright, I'd like that." He felt a bit awkward too, not in a bad way, but he was at the point where he was sharing his feelings for her, and it naturally made him nervous. He went back to finishing his steak.

She felt the awkwardness, though it wasn't uncomfortable. Izira sipped her wine and returned to the meal. Her heel lightly brushed his leg again before being drawn away.

He lightly cleared his throat at the contact, more because of the feelings it was raising inside him. He felt warm and anxious, so he tried to break the tension. "I . . . uh . . . ?, his voice cracked a bit. "I made a Cherry-Pineapple Crumb Cobbler. Bought it from a farmer, had it made up like a cake mix. It's ready and waiting for us in the icebox."

"That sounds delicious." Her plate clean, she set her silverware down and picked up her wine. She looked up. "Do you have a spot here with a good view of the stars?"

Outside the Arena

Saturday, October 19, 2013



When Gren and Izira were finished at the Arena, he escorted her to the door and opened it for her. Gren shut the door behind them and broke down in embarrassment. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Izira. I lose all three duels, then that woman flirts with me right in front of you! I have no idea who she is, I swear!"

"I suspect she flirted with you because you are attractive." She gave a quirk of a smile as she watched him, then handed him the book and boxes of scented candles that Rena gave her to carry. "I mind little that a woman known or unknown flirts with you. I must admit my concern at you not... defending yourself? I am speaking outside of dueling. What would you have done had Janie been even more forward?"

He took the candles and boxes from her and looks sheepish. "I don't know what I would have done. At the time, I just didn't want to make a scene. You were there and I . . . aw, geez. If you weren't there, I probably would have just run away, I guess."

"I believe you are strong enough to stand your ground, Gren, even though you might not. Men are allowed to say no, you know."

"I know", he said that quietly. "It's not that I like women flirting with me, sometimes I'm just afraid to say no, I guess."

"Why?" There was a curious tilt of her head, as she tied up her trench coat against the night's air.

"I'm . . . afraid. Afraid they'll get mad. Take it as rejection. Afraid they won't listen, then I'll look weak." He sighed. "I know I can't run away all the time."

"It is a rejection, is it not?" She softly chuckled, "If they do not listen the first time, you will just have to repeat yourself firmly until the point gets across. If not for your own sake, for mine?"

He looked deeply at her when she said the word "mine". "Yes, you're right. I will. I never cheated on anyone I was with, not that I know of, but I know I need to handle those situations better. I'll try in the future. No, I will."

She gave a soft nod. "With Alain... the cover for his job required him to play the role of a playboy and to keep me at arm?s length when in public. I know he did nothing to truly betray me while we were together, but it hurt to watch him play a role. I would not like to feel foolish in that way again..."

The realization of what she had said to him started to sink in. "Uhh . . . no, I understand. I don't want you to be hurt. I wanted tonight to be special. I was so glad you came. I just wasn't expecting things to go wrong like that. Everything just got me . . . flustered."

"Did it truly go that wrong?" She fluttered her lashes as she looked to him with some concern.

"Well, it just . . . seemed that way." He sighed and dropped his head. "I'm glad you got to see Rena and Noira. And talk to Jaycy. It made me feel good to see you talking with people, after all that time . . . ", he trailed off. "No, maybe things didn't go *that* wrong."

"We are here, together." She offered as further argument that the night had not gone that bad at all.

"Yes. Yes we are." He watched her closely for a few moments. "Can I . . . walk you home?"

"That was already the plan, was it not? Or are you afraid that I changed my mind?"

"I just wanted to make sure the plan was still . . . in effect." He winced slightly, but covered it with a hopeful smile.

"It is, providing you take care of my items." A nod of her head to the book and boxes he carried, with a teasing smile.

He stared at her, then down at the boxes as if seeing them for the first time. "Oh! Of course. I will guard them with every fiber of my being. I know how important candles can be to an Innkeeper." He managed the joke, his tension beginning to dissipate a bit as she confirmed she still wanted to walk with him.

She softly chuckled as she placed a hand to his arm and started on the journey home.

He walked down the street for a little ways, before looking back at her. "Izira . . . I'm no playboy. And I would never keep you at arm?s length."

"Tonight has... reassured me of that. Even with Janie?, she said, soft smiling.

"Good." He gulped a bit, then fell silent again. He knew this was the night that Izira was going to make her decision. Part of him was anxious, and hopeful, but another part of him was afraid. Afraid just like she had told him that night, that everything could go wrong. He didn't know what more to say or do at that point, other than to walk down the street with her next to him.

"Heh", he smiled back. "Well, I did ask for a million silver nobles and my own castle, but apparently those kinds of things are beyond its powers."

"You have grown tired of your treehouse?"

"No, I'm quite fond of my treehouse. But if someone ever learned the secret knock . . . there goes my million silver nobles."

"I would share."

"Would you now? Well that's mighty generous of you. And with *my* money no less."

"Perhaps you have run up quite the tab at the inn."

"Oh, now I have a *tab*? So all that generosity was a ruse? And all my box lifting and wood chopping was for nothing? I tell you, just when I thought this night couldn't get any worse . . .?

She softly chuckled as they came upon the inn, the lights coming to life at her approach. She moved up the steps on the porch and stopped there. "Thank you for walking me home."

"You're welcome. Hey, uh . . . would you mind if I came in for just a moment? To set these on the bar. I wanted to give you something before I left."

"For a moment." She agreed, moving and opening the door to the inn. The place belonged to them for the time. Once Gren is through the door with her items, she followed. The tie of her trench coat undone, she slipped it off and laid it to rest over the bar.

Gren set the candles and the book on the bar, then fished around in his cloak for what he wanted to give her. He closed it in his hand, and turned to look at her. "Since we're seeing each other now, I want to give you something to remember me by. Something you can keep close to your heart, so you know I'm thinking of you." He held out his hand, and there was the silver locket, with the pearl-crusted lily. "You told me this was one of your favorite flowers, so I thought you would like it."

Izira stepped forward, touching the locket as it rested in his hand. Her fingertips brushed over the silver of the locket and the flesh of Gren's skin. "It is lovely..." Amber-brown eyes looked up to him, "I do like it. Thank you." Slowly drawing her hand away, "Would you?" She moved to lift her hair and turn her back slightly to him, looking over her shoulder when she asked him to assist her in putting the locket on.

"Of course." Gren leaned forward, gently slipping the chain around her neck, and clasping the lock. He felt his hands touch her neck, and he rested them on her shoulders when he finished. "There you are. I think it looks lovely." He was standing inches from her, watching her looking back at him.

Her hand lifted up to brush against the locket once it hung in place, before turning to better face him. "It is a very thoughtful gift."

Gren let one hand fall to his side, although he kept the other hand where it was. "I'm glad you like it. You deserve a gift, after all the kindness you've shown me."

She smiles and her eyes lower to the locket, unsure of what to say further.

After a long pause, he spoke up. "I'm going to be busy for the next two days. The Diamond Quest is tomorrow night, and there is an IFL Meet and Greet on Monday. The team I'm on, Badside Brawlers, will be there, and I should be too. I can come back on Tuesday, if that is alright."

"It is alright, yes. I will look forward to seeing you then."

"I . . .? He wanted to say so much more to her, but the night had been eventful enough. Maybe enough words had been spoken. The hand he had on her shoulder slid down her back to pull her toward him, while he cupped her cheek in his other hand. He then leaned in and kissed her full on the lips, trying to convey how he felt in the warmth and depth of it.

Her return was hesitant at first, equaling more of those delicate kisses she bestowed on the walk there, before gently matching him. She parted before the kiss became more, feeling her own desire. Her lips come together, still feeling the press of his kiss. "Tuesday."

He nodded quietly, his ice blue eyes looking deep into hers, before he let her go. "I will see you then. Good night, and take care, Izira." He broke out into a warm smile, before he turned away from her, and hastily made his way to the door.

"Safe travels, Gren."

He looked back, still smiling, before pushing his way out the door, and out of the Inn. He made his way down the gravel path, and didn't pay attention to the blue lights as he vanished from the realm, lost in his own thoughts.

He watched her with that goofy grin as she moved around the bar, and it got even wider when she touched the locket. She's wearing it! Gren almost let loose a dreamy sigh. He sat down on the stool, grabbed the Broot and took a long sip, before glancing at the book out of the corner of his eye. He looked between the door and the book several times before he got his curiosity in check. He figured he'd just ask her about it when she came back. He took a long glance around the Inn, to see if Silas was there, or if anything had changed since his absence.

The cat and ravens remained absent from the Inn's interior. The only thing different would be the slight smell of autumn scents, thanks to Rena's candles. Izira soon returned with the turkey sandwich, without mayo, and a bowl of large plump grapes.

"Alright! Looks good. Hey, maybe we can take that walk in the forest I had to take a rain check on last week." He said, before picking up the sandwich and taking a big bite.

"I would like that. There is a nice spring not to far that I could show you."

He smiled and popped a few of the grapes in his mouth. "See? Plenty to do." He grinned. "I wish you could've been with me yesterday. The IFL Meet and Greet? They had it at the Great Helm Tavern! Heh, it reminded me of the 'ol' days'."

"Were there many people there?" She pulled up her stool to sit across from him as he ate. She was curious to hear about events since she'd last seen him.

"Oh yeah, there were at least two dozen, maybe thirty people there. People are getting fired up for the IFL season to start. It's been six years since the last season. I was happy for Jewell, she planned it, and it was a great success. I had to do some advertising for my team, of course." He turned around a bit to show the Badside Brawlers logo on his hoodie.

"Badside... Brawlers." She read the words on his hoodie. "How did you come to be a part of... them?"

?Jake Thrash is the Team Captain, and he owns the Red Orc Brewery. The Brewery is most famous for Badsider Ale. But it also makes Badsider Broot, which *I* am the spokesperson for. So Jake asked me to join the team. I can fight and promote his product at the same time."

"Jake must be a very wise business man."

"Yeah, he does well for himself. I think Badsider products must be the most popular brand of ale on the market. I guess. I'm not really up on the alcoholic beverages. I know there is Silver Mark, and . . . " His eyes go wide as he remembers something he heard, and he puts two and two together. "Silver Mark . . . that's the ale that . . . " The ale that Alain makes. "Sorry. Man, I didn't realize that until just now."

Izira's mind was trying to recall if she'd heard much about Badsider during her previous times in RhyDin, but before she could decide one way or another, Gren mentioned Silver Mark. Her smile faltered, but she shook her head. "Do not apologize." She paused and then made the best of the conversation. "I met Alain just before he launched his bar. I take it his business continues to do well."

"Yeah, I guess." He changed the subject. "Well, I'm glad Jake went into soft drinks. The current Governor, Rekah Silverblades, actually gave him the idea. She was pregnant and the time, and suggested he invent a Root Beer. He must've taken it to heart, because Broot came out not long after. I used to drink it all the time. People like Candy used to tease me about it, because they all drink beer or ale. She called me "Brootman". Then when I won the Diamond, it was like "Hey, Gren drinks Broot and he won the Diamond, so you can too!" Or something."

Gren was tossing out a number of names that she didn't know, but she tried to follow his words as she listened. "I hope to meet more of your friends."

"I'd love to introduce you to my friends at the Outback. Maybe if we get back in time from our walk, and you're not too busy, we could go there tonight! I know more people there then the Arena."

"If we are back in time I would like that." She stood up, moving to fetch herself a glass of water to drink beforehand. "If we are not... we may go another day."

"Great!" He finished off the sandwich as he talked, and started to eat the grapes as she got her water. "What kind of book where you reading?"

"There is little to read of it. I was merely enjoying it." She waved a hand for him to see the book's contents for himself. Inside various flowers had been pressed. A penciled note marked the name of each in a handwriting that did not match Izira's.

He wiped his hand on a napkin before flipping through the pages, looking at the dried flowers curiously, and the handwriting in the book. "These flowers . . . why do you have them stuck in a book like this?"

"You have never heard of flower pressing?" She set an empty glass in the sink and moved over to Gren. "It is a way to preserve flowers." Amber-brown eyes looked to the page he was on. "I found the volume in my library some time ago. I find it... peaceful to look through at times."

"Yeah, I've seen it . . . once or twice. When someone had a flower from a special moment they wanted to save. But not a whole book like this. I noticed that wasn't your handwriting, either. I didn't mean to pry, I was just curious." He continued flipping the pages, while munching on the last of the grapes.

"Gren..." She reached out a hand for his. "Please do not feel as though you are prying... I want you to feel comfortable enough to ask me anything. I... might not be as ready or able to answer... but what I can answer, I will."

He glanced up from the book, catching her gaze, and smiled sheepishly, holding her hand briefly. "Alright, Izira. That was more my own insecurities talking. I'm used to feeling nervous and thinking people don't want me to intrude on them. I *do* feel comfortable around you. It may just take a little time for my mind to register that", he finished by turning his sheepish smile into a gentle one.

Her hand in his, she reached the other to gentle cup his cheek. She leaned across the table to give him a longer kiss. "I hope that encourages your mind to catch up. Are you ready for our walk?"

He closed his eyes as they kiss, and he blinked rapidly as she pulled away. "Uh . . . yeah! The walk. Let's go, I'm ready." He ate the last grape and forgot about the book. He stood up from the barstool and adjusted his hoodie.

She didn't look like she accepted that answer.

He sighed a bit, shoulders slumped in defeat. "One positive thing, huh?"

"I can think of several. You should be able to think of one."

Gren stared at her blankly for a few long moments. "I don't . . . uh . . .? He looked away, then back as though it is painful for him to answer her. "I like to help people. Protect them. When I can."

She had an answer, but she did not look happy, seeing the expression he made along with giving it. For a moment, she was at a loss for words.

He lowers his head, ashamed. "I'm not used to thinking positively about myself."

"You are worth thinking positively about."

'I'm not . . . " Comfortable with this, he was going to finish. He didn't want to upset Izira anymore, so he tried to shift the subject slightly. "Why don't you tell me what one of those positive things are?"

"Would you believe me if I told you? Or would you find some way to shrug it off?"

"I don't know." His face was wavering, as if she was about to slap him.

Izira looked torn. She sadly smiled and turned away, keeping her hold on his hand. "The spring is close."

He nodded quietly, following beside her. He felt ashamed and very sad, for some reason. Unconsciously, he squeezed Izira's hand tighter. He wanted to apologize, but he didn't quite know what to say.

She returned the squeeze lightly, but like him remained silent. Distracted by her own thoughts, she continued to lead the way.

Whenever he would get like this, in his early days as a Ranger, he would practice mantras, or meditate, like the veterans would do to steady their mind for a mission or a battle. He focused on his breathing, using his stomach to push out and take more air in. He focused on the scent of the trees, the sound of the water flowing, the birds chirping, the rustling of the leaves in the wind. It always seemed to calm him, to a degree.

Izira's steps paused as though she might say something more. Instead, she continued to move on again. The sounds of the water were closer, a glimpse of the spring could be seen through the trees.

Gren always did enjoy a waterfall. His wavering face and sadness almost instantly turn to pleasure and fascination at the white, falling waters. "Oh, that's just . . . that is so beautiful." Distracted now, he looks at the falls for a few moments before glancing back at Izira.

She tried to smile for Gren, but it is hindered by her own thoughts. "It is." She let go of Gren's hand and moved closer, finding a rocky outcropping to sit on.

He peered at the falls for a few seconds, then caught Izira's movement to the rock. He followed behind her, and sat down next to her. Silent for a few minutes, he pulled his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them. "You told me there were things you weren't comfortable about telling me yet. I understood. There are things I'm not comfortable talking about, about myself. It's painful for me as well. I would hope you would understand, and not think it a reflection on you."

She sat there, watching the waters, silent for a time after Gren spoke. When she responded she did not sound angry, only curious, "You compare the time I spent as little more than a slave to your... difficulty in seeing the good in yourself?" Amber-brown eyes looked back to Gren, "I do not think of it as a reflection of me, Gren. I... I only have to wonder how you expect someone else to love you when it seems you do not see yourself worth loving."

"I didn't mean to compare the two. I can't imagine being held as a slave like you were. I only meant to let you know there are things I don't feel comfortable talking about either. There is this giant, painful fear in me that leaps out whenever I am focused on myself. I feel it will swallow me. I don't know how to describe it. I'm not doing this for sympathy, or for show. I don't know how to make it go away. I just try to distract myself. Lose myself in my job, in helping others. I find meaning and worth there. So I focus my thoughts on that. It's why I duel, to make me a better Ranger. I thought . . . one day, maybe it will go away. Maybe I will find someone, and everything will work out."

Quietly, she watched him, wondering about the fear that overcame him, wondering at the source. Her smile is still a little sad for his explanation. She turned and rested her back against the rock, looking up to the sky. Her ankles crossed. She listened to the water's movements. "Have you always experienced that fear?"

"Yes. Ever since I can remember." He remained with his knees curled to his chest, looking out at the water. "It was worse when I first started as a Ranger. I didn't know who I was or where I was. I had these horrible bouts of claustrophobia, and . . . " He stopped and shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "One day, when I was going through training, the instructors were going to teach us how to escape from a prison, and remove a rope that had been tied around our hands. They chose a volunteer, me, from the recruits as an example. When they tied the rope around my wrists, I started to get incredibly nervous, my whole body was shaking. Then when they put me in the box and closed the lid . . . I lost it. I started screaming like a banshee and slamming my head against it until blood shot out of my forehead. They almost kicked me out that day, but Perrigan gave me another chance, because he knew what had happened to me."

Izira remembered the story he told her, Gren coming from the woods covered in blood... not all of it his. Her head turned toward him, brown hair fanned out over the rock beneath her. Concern is clearly etched into her features, but she doesn't know what to say. She was afraid the thoughts that came to her mind were not questions he was ready to hear. Her hand moved over the rock to brush fingertips against his side.

Her brief touch comforted him. He thought he had almost lost her. He lowered his hand to take hers in his again. "Izira, I don't want to not love myself. I hope and pray one day that I'll be fine. Please understand. I want you to know . . . ever since I met you, it's had a positive effect on me. I feel calmer, more hopeful. I feel like my dream is coming true." He wanted to tell her how much he loved and needed her. "I . . . don't want to lose you, Izira."

"I am here." They both were, for the time--with whatever demons from their past still haunted them. She smiled and hoped the simple words are enough for now.

"*You* are?" He looked at her incredulously at first, then covered it so she didn't think he was trying to mock her. He adopted a more concerned look, because that's how he really felt. "Why would you be afraid of that?"

"Aside from the few I have been intimate with.... sex has been... an escape. A way to forget myself, submit and surrender. A way to not be present. I am afraid... of that desire in me to feel that way."

Gren looked at her sadly, for several reasons. He understood about her hurtful past, and her desire to escape. He escaped himself, just internally, locking himself away from people. He was also sad because he thought she didn't want to be intimate with him, although again, he understood why. "I would hope, Izira . . . that I would be more to you than just a means for you to escape."

"And I would wish that you could see yourself as I see you. Perhaps someday."

"How do you see me, Izira? Maybe I'm ready to hear it now."

"And if you are not?" A brow was raised at him, before she turned back to the sky.

"If I'm not . . . I'll file it away in my mind for future re-consideration." He tried to smile a bit.

She gave a soft, barely made chuckle. She exhaled and sat up, pulling her legs around her as she leaned closer to Gren. "You are handsome." She put the obvious out there for starters.

He put his arm around her shoulders, focusing his ice blue eyes on hers, letting her know he's listening to her intently. "I can live with that one." He kept his little smile.

"You are one of the most kindhearted men I have ever met."

He looked like he was wavering on that one, but the smile held. "I'm still with you."

"You are sweet to the point that you put the comfort of others before yourself."

He nodded softly. His grip seemed to tighten, whether to comfort her, or steady himself.

She paused when his grip tightened, but continued. "You are brave."

He gave a light chuckle, thinking about his job, or stepping in the ring with someone like Jake or Harris, but he refrained from making a joke, as he didn't want to spoil the moment.

She paused at his laugh with a curious frown.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. I was just thinking I'd have to be brave to get in the ring with a muscular half-orc like Jake, or charge up a hill and fifty pissed off goblins trying to kill me. Basically, I'm agreeing with you. Humbly, of course." He gave her a little wink.

Izira accepted that and continued, "You are patient."

"I try to be." He was still watching her.

"You are understanding and thoughtful and caring."

"I can accept that." He said that a bit jokingly, but really he's finding himself more at ease as Izira spoke.

"Can you say it all back to me?"

"Uhhhhh . . .? He gave one of his patented bewildered looks and gulped.

"Do you believe my words?"

He smiled then at Izira. "Yes, I believe you. And I can say it back to you. You said I was handsome. I'm one of the most kindhearted men you've met. I am sweet in that I put others comfort over my own. I am brave, patient, understanding, thoughtful, and caring. Does that cover it?"

Izira smiled, lifting her hand and drawing Gren into a kiss. It lingered before she drew her lips away but pressed her forehead to his. "Perhaps a fraction of all that is worthy in you."

If he had any tension, it melted away at the kiss, and he leaned his forehead against hers, also. "Well, I didn't fall apart. So that's a good thing. But you know, Izira, I need you to believe me too. Believe me when I tell you I find you to be one of the most kindhearted women I ever met. Believe me when I tell you that you are sweet, and put others comfort over your own. Believe me when I tell you that *you* are brave, patient, understanding, thoughtful, and caring. You're also strong, resilient, intelligent, and artistic. That tune you played on the piano that day, it almost broke my heart. Believe me when I tell you . . . I love you, Izira."

Thursday, October 24, 2013



When Gren had shown up to help Izira prepare for the arrival of the hungry rangers she wasted no time in putting him to work. She knew he had limited experience in the kitchen and put him to easy tasks like mashing the potatoes, snapping the ends off the green beans, cooking and cutting strips of bacon, dicing the onions, shaping croissants, and stirring pots to keep the contents from burning. She enjoyed, when in the process of cooking, showing him how to do something new.

Now the scents of the buffet filled the interior of the inn, along with the warmth from the fire sent into the large hearth in the main room. The sitting area had been rearranged to allow for the long buffet table to divide the two parts of the room. Plates and silverware sat to one end, where two lines could be started. The menu included salad with a house dressing, baked seasoned chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes, steamed green beans saut?ed in butter with onions and bacon, croissants and butter.

Another table for dessert, lemon crumb pie and cherry crumb pie, had been set up near the main table for the buffet, but separate so as not to make the rangers walk through the whole line. Along the bar several kegs of the Orktober Ale had been place, with buckets of Broot bottles on ice, pitchers of water, and carafes of the Wutroth coffee. Izira finished setting out glasses and mugs for the rangers.
Her attire for the night a white wrap top over a lace camisole, paired with a sand colored skirt and white heels. Gren's locket adorned her neck, as it had since he gifted it to her.

Gren was wearing his simple brown shirt and pants, with an apron tied around his waist, expecting he was going to spill plenty of food on himself, but pleasantly surprised that was not the case. He had finished toting out the desserts for the dessert table, and wiped his forearm across his brow. "Everything looks great!" He hoped everything would go well. Perrigan had agreed to attend. He thought about Haddon and some of his pals, and frowned slightly, hoping they wouldn't cause too much trouble. He glanced around at the spread, then turned to look for Izira. "I've got the desserts out, is there anything else I need to do?"

The last glass mug in place, Izira looked to Gren as he set out the desserts. She left the bar, moving through the tables and over by him just as he turned to look to her. She smiled warmly, reaching out to pluck at his apron. "Take off the apron before the rangers arrive? I do not think them seeing you in it will do you any favors, at least not before they have tasted what you helped to provide them."

He's smiling pleasantly at Izira, until what she explained to him sunk in, then he grimaced slightly and hurriedly untied the apron and slipped it over his head. "I . . . uh . . . thought I was going to make a mess. Heh." He grinned nervously, and rubbed the back of his head. "They should be here any minute, I told Moriana to show them the way."

"Nothing more than is to be expected, you are a natural in the kitchen." She took the apron with a smile before she kissed his cheek. "You should have a drink before they arrive. You have certainly earned it. I will put this away while I tidy a few things in the kitchen. Try to relax." Apron in hand, Izira moved back to the bar and slipped through the door into the kitchen.

Her kiss made his nervousness vanish, and he watched her go back into the kitchen, before making his way to the bar and getting a bottle of Broot, twisting off the top, and taking a long drink. He glanced over all the food with a little grin on his face, when a movement outside the window caught his eye and his head naturally turned in that direction.

Moriana had appeared in the portal, wearing the Ranger's customary grey cloak. Her lithe body swayed up the path a few steps, until she turned, putting a fist on her hip, to see if the other Rangers were coming. They had been a bit surprised as Moriana vanished into the portal, even though they were told and expected it. Dutifully, they begin to enter, one by one, until a congregation of twenty grey cloaked people stood at the beginning of the gravel path. Moriana seemed to do a head count, before turning in place and leading them towards the door. The Rangers made no sound on the path, nor the steps or porch. Seeing them coming, Gren hurried to the door to greet them. Moriana opened the door emphatically, and scanned the interior of the Inn, as if looking for trouble, before casting Gren a suspicious glare.

Gren smiled broadly. "Moriana! Thanks for bringing everyone here! Let me take your cloak!" Moriana lowered her hood, but glared down Gren with a haughty look. "Um . . . ok . . . never mind." She strode past him and toward the benches. The next person through the door was Perrigan. Pulling back his hood, the gentleman in his fifties showed off his short white hair, and deep blue eyes. "Gren. Thank you for inviting us." He pulled off his cloak, showing his muscular physique. "Of course, Headmaster."

Next was Haddon. The large, bald man already had his cloak off, and was moving to slap Gren on the back. "Gren, my buddy! Hah! So what does a fellow have to do to get something to eat in this joint? HAH HAH HAH! *OH!*" The exclamation was due to Haddon turning his head and seeing the buffet laid out for the incoming Rangers. Haddon grabbed his heart and put his other arm in the air, as if he was having a heart attack. He staggered over to the buffet table and dropped to his knees. "Good Lord Almighty! I haven't seen a spread like this in years! You can take me now, Lord!!!!"

As their guests started to arrive, Izira came out from the kitchen--arriving in time to see Haddon drop to his knees before the buffet. From the break in the bar she nodded to Moriana before lifting her voice to Haddon, "That would be quite the waste of food. I suggest you beseech the Lord to take you *after* you have had your fill."

Haddon stopped his charade and looked at Izira as she spoke, his eyes going wide. "HOT DAMN! Does the lady come with it??" "Hey, knock it off!? Gren called from the doorway, still collecting cloaks. Perrigan gave Haddon a disapproving glare. "Haddon, behave yourself. We are guests here." Haddon grinned sheepishly, getting back to his feet."It's just a joke! They know it's a joke! Heh."

She faintly smiled at Haddon's words and Gren's retort. Izira nodded her head to the large ranger as he stood and then made her way to join Gren. She stood beside him to help him gather the cloaks and hang them up by the door. It was a wonder there were enough pegs.

Gren was still looking at Haddon a bit narrow eyed, until Izira came to help him with the cloaks. It was only then that he realized he had nineteen identical grey cloaks (minus Moriana's), and no way to tell them apart. He looked at them a bit paranoid for a moment, then shrugged helplessly, hoping no one would know the difference. He helped Izira hang them all up. Moriana had given Izira a nod in return, and the other Rangers had filed over to the food, staring curiously (and hungrily) at the buffet. Gren watched the men eye the buffet eagerly, and whispered to Izira, "Hey, why don't we let them go ahead and eat, and I can introduce you a little later."

She nodded in understanding. "Is there anyone else?" Amber-browns looking around, she wondered if anyone else was not in attendance.

"Hmmm . . .? Gren looked around at the remaining Rangers. "Westerguard isn't here. He's the "General", Second in Command. He must have stayed behind to run the Guild in Perrigan's absence. Phipps, the Quartermaster isn't here, either. He's married to Perrigan's niece, Eleanor. I don't know the rest of these guys very well. A lot of them are newer recruits. I recognize their faces from when we charged up the hill at Violet Crossing, the day before the play. Perrigan must've given them priority to reward them for their bravery."

"I am positive that after tonight a number of them will seek to become better acquainted with you, even if only for the chance at another good meal." She chuckled softly, looking around at those enjoying their meals. The fact that others were absent made the lack of Rhett and Janna less curious.

"Oh, I'm sure they will. Speaking of which, I'm going to get some of that food, while I can. If you want something too, then we can sit with Perrigan, Haddon, and Moriana."

"I fear I took my fill while cooking. Get a plate and join Perrigan, I will continue making sure everyone is taken care of."

"Couldn't wait, huh?? He gave her a little smile and swirl of his hand on her back. "Alright, I hope Crawford left me some of those potatoes." He gave her a little smile and a brief wiggle of his eyebrows before making his way over to the buffet. He got his share of the salad, chicken, potatoes, beans, and a couple of the croissants, before going to sit with Perrigan. Perrigan gave Gren a warm smile. "The buffet is excellent. I'm glad the new recruits got to enjoy a meal like this." Gren replied, "I am too", before he started his meal.

Izira returned to the bar, picking up a picture of water in one hand and the coffee in the other. As Gren enjoyed his dinner she took the time to visit each table to see how everyone was doing, refill their water or coffee, and see who needed another Broot or portion of ale. A reminder was given to save room for dessert to anyone who hadn't gotten that far yet into their meal.

Haddon had just finished his plate, and sat back down with three slices of crumb pie, two cherry and one lemon. He grinned devilishly at Gren, and said, "Hey Gren, why don't you tell us about the Woodsman from Snow White again? Haw haw!" Gren gave Haddon an exasperated look. "Aw, come on, Haddon . . . " Perrigan and Moriana looked at Haddon, then Gren curiously. "Aw, *you* come on! The least our host can do is give us a little entertainment." Gren gulped mightily, glanced at Perrigan a moment, then sighed. "Oh, alright. All I was saying was that I don't think those fairy tales are sending the right message to young girls. The Woodsman, or Huntsman, in Snow White is the one that saves her life. He gets her away from the Queen, doesn't poison her like he's supposed to, and risks his life to go back and deceive the Queen into thinking she's dead. He also is the one that kills the Wolf in Red Riding Hood. And what does he get for it? Nothing. Snow White ignores him, instead going for the pretty boy Prince Charming with the rich Mom and Dad. I think Snow White should have ended up with the Woodsman. He's the one that sacrificed and put his life on the line for her. There's more to happiness than good looks and money." Gren nodded emphatically, while Haddon busted out laughing, pounding his fist on the table. "I feel the "Elvish Princess" story coming on! HAW HAW HAW!"

Izira stopped, curiously listening to the exchange, then giving a sympathetic smile to Gren. As Haddon laughed and continued, Izira moved away from the collected tables and rounded the buffet table. Fingertips brushed over the up-do as she moved to the bench of her piano and sat down. She paused, thinking of what to play, certainly not the usual sad tune for this lot. She recalled a tune a passing ranger had taught her many years ago and hoped it would be familiar to the group. The words of the tune had been forgotten, but she smiled to herself recalling the general amusing nature of the song's tale.

"She *wasn't* a Princess, she was a Marquess! I don't see why you feel the need to pick on me about that!" Gren was turning red. Haddon guffawed harder. "Don't be that way, Gren! *I'm* the one who's jealous! I'll probably never get to bed Elvish royalty! Have some pity for us poor, lowly commoners! HAW HAW!" Perrigan slid his glance over to Haddon again. "Haddon, that's enough." Haddon flinched back slightly from Perrigan's gaze. "Aw, I was just having a little fun, Headmaster, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry, buddy!" Haddon apologized, giving Gren a playful grin. Gren grimaced, but didn't reply. Suddenly their attention was given to Izira, as she began to play her tune. Haddon broke out in a broad grin. "Well alright! Dinner *and* a show! Heh heh!" Perrigan looked a bit bewildered, then he smiled pleasantly. "That sounds like a tune I used to know . . . many, many years ago . . .? The old Ranger crossed his arms and listened fondly.

Her fingers danced nimbly over the keys, giving life to the notes of the song. Izira closed her eyes, letting the rest of the inn slip from her thoughts as she played. Once the melody ended, she stilled.

Thunderous applause erupted from the twenty Rangers seated, along with a few whistles. "Give us another one, little Missy! One with some life in it! HAW!" Haddon bellowed, raising his tankard of Orktoberfest Ale.

"I fear you have enough life for everyone." She smiled, calling back. But her fingers picked up a fresh tune, something the rangers could dance to, if they were inclined.

"Oh, *that's* the stuff! Come on, Moriana, let's shuffle our feet a little!" Haddon jumped out of his seat, grabbing Moriana's hand and pulling her with him. Moriana had a comical look that bordered between total bafflement and homicidal rage. Haddon began to twirl her in place while she frantically tried to get him to stop by banging her fist on his shoulder. Yolene had stood up to dance, but Malcolm had groggily waved her off. She then skipped over to Bernard, who gladly took her in his arms and did a little box step style waltz with her. Crawford quietly clapped and smiled at the dancers.

Haddon continued his curious dance/struggle with Moriana. He had his arm around her waist, and she was staring holes through his head with her glare. When the tune reached its conclusion, Haddon dipped Moriana in dramatic fashion, and she took that opportunity to headbutt him in the mouth. "OWWWW!", Haddon cried out, dropping Moriana into the table. He staggered backwards with his hands covering his jaw. The assembled Rangers burst into laughter, and their applause for the tune Izira played was louder than the first. Moriana ran over to Perrigan, and rapidly pointed between her and him. Perrigan glanced at her for a moment, then figuring he was saving her from another rumble with Haddon, the old Ranger stood from his seat and danced slowly with her to the next tune, which seemed more soft and romantic than the two Izira had previously played. Yolene slipped out of Bernard's grasp and went over to Crawford, trying to pull him out of his seat. Crawford shook his head, afraid, but she finally got him up and her arms around him, rocking back and forth with him to the slow tune. Crawford seemed incredibly uncomfortable at first, but about mid-way through he seemed to be enjoying himself.

The other Rangers watched, drinking the Orktoberfest Ale, eating the pie, and chatted amongst themselves. Gren was content to remain quiet, and watch his fellow Rangers enjoy the buffet and music. He wished that it could be him dancing with Izira. He stared at her hair done up in a twist as she sat on the piano bench. Gren softly pictured them together, his left hand clasped in hers, his right arm around her waist, slowly moving together to some old tune while gazing into each other?s eyes.


Gren had finished his meal, and forgotten about dessert, so during one of the songs, he snuck over to the dessert table and got a slice of cherry crumb pie. By then, Perrigan and Moriana's dance was finished. Perrigan was again seated across from Gren. He was watching him with a warm, knowing smile. Gren looked back at him a bit bewildered, looked to the side, then back at him. "What's the matter?" "I'm happy for you. She seems like a wonderful woman. Talented, soft, caring. I hope things work out for the two of you." Gren stared at Perrigan for a long pause, before answering. "Yeah . . . I do too. She's, uh . . . she's everything I've been looking for." Just then Yolene threw her arms around Gren's neck. "Oh Gren, my silent comrade, you must do me the favor of a dance this night! For the night is young, and each moment must be lived to its fullest!" Gren chuckled at Yolene's theatrics. Perrigan nodded for Gren to go ahead, and Gren stood and put his arm around Yolene. The tune had shifted to a more frolicking one again, and Gren circled with the tiny elf woman, trying to keep his balance, while Yolene giggled.

And on she played, though that tune was the final for the night. After the song finished Izira stood, giving a short bow of her head to the rangers gathered.

The Rangers give a "Hooray!" and clap long and loud as the final tune ended, and Izira bowed. Yolene skipped away from Gren and back to her table. Gren walked over to Izira, lightly wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow. "That was great."

"A pity I did not get a turn with you." Looking over his brow, "Though, I do not know that Yolene has left you enough energy for it", she said with a quirk of her smile in amusement.

He chuckled a bit. "Well, she made me do all the work! She's heavier than she looks. Twirling her around in a circle for four minutes isn't as easy as I thought. Hey . . . you know what . . . " A thought crossed Gren's mind, and he looked over at Crawford. "Hey Crawford, come here for a moment! Didn't you play a little piano? Play that little tune for me and Izira!" Crawford looked a bit bashful, but he nodded and rose to help his friend Gren out. As Crawford made his way to the piano, Gren turned to Izira with a smile, holding his hand out. "Shall we?"

"It would be rude to refuse before your guests." There was a tease in her tone as she took the offered hand and stepped in closer to him.

"I know. Exactly how I planned it." Crawford sat and played a slow, dreamy little tune, while Gren slipped his arm around Izira's waist. His ice blue eyes looked into her amber browns, as he swayed back and forth to the gentle music. "I like your hair up like that." The Rangers all quieted a bit, some elbowed each other and pointed to the pair, watching with pleased grins.

"I used to do it up more... before..." She looked around herself to indicate her time alone in the realm. "I thought, with hosting your friends, it would be good to wear it up again." Izira moved easily in Gren's arms, letting him lead. Her grace gave away her knowledge of dancing.

"Well, you thought right." Gren wasn't exactly a dancer, but he knew enough to bob back and forth during the slow song. He did note the ease with which she moved. "You'll have to teach me some more dance moves. I'm afraid "running in a circle" and "sway to the left and right" are the only ones I know."

"I had not noticed." Her smile was kind, amber-brown eyes focused on his. "I would be happy to teach you some new steps."

"Good. Because I could get used to this." He gently rubbed her fingers in his left hand, and tightened his right arm around her waist, as the dance continued. "I think everyone's watching us, heh."

"I also had not noticed that." Her fingers brushed over the back of his shoulders.

He tried not to smile and failed miserably. Leaning forward, he rested his cheek against her forehead, taking in a deep breath of her scent. Suddenly he stopped worrying about whether anyone was watching them.

Her forehead leaning against his cheek, she smiled. The gentle movement between them continuing until the song slowed and ended.

The Rangers let out a "Wooooo!" and a boisterous round of applause as Crawford finished the song. "*Kiss her, you knucklehead!*" Haddon called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. Gren momentarily looks upward and gulped in embarrassment, before looking back at Izira. Then he leaned forward to give her a tender kiss on the lips.

She looked to him after the dance, smiling. No embarrassment when Haddon called out to them. Izira returned the kiss, "Thank you for the dance, Gren."

"Well . . . that's . . . Good!", he replied, stammering because he is flustered. Haddon did get under his skin. He could only imagine how bad it would have been if Rhett had been here to egg him on more. He went over to the food table and gapes a bit. "Man, they picked this buffet clean. Hope you weren't planning on having leftovers."

"I might have hidden some extra in the kitchen." She grinned as she swept around the table.

"Ooooh. I have to say, those potatoes were pretty darn good." He got a cloth from the sink and wet it down, then went to the tables to wipe them off.

"You are a professional masher." Izira moved through the tasks of cleaning. "Did it bother you, not having Rhett and Janna here tonight?"

"Well . . . ", he looked down at the table for a moment. "In a way, yeah. Regardless of what happened with Janna, or the differences Rhett and I have, they are still my fellow Rangers, and they could have enjoyed themselves today. I wish we could all be friends and move on." He scrubbed down one table, and moved to start on another. "But it was probably good they didn't. Rhett could have caused trouble and spoiled everything."

She softly nodded as she moved on and continued cleaning until the next thought occurred to her. "I did not say anything, I did not want to encourage Haddon further, but I question your statements regarding the woodsman."

"Oh yeah? What do you mean?" He looks up from where he is cleaning a table, trying to get a cherry pie stain removed.

"You cannot help who you love.... deserving or not." Once more her fingers smoothed over her hair. "What did Haddon mean by the Elvish Princess?"

"Well, you've got a point there, I can't argue with that. But part of the point of that story, was those fairy tales are constructed with morals. You know? Like "The Early Bird Gets The Worm"? They aren't true to life, anyway, but meant to teach people a lesson. So why don't you teach people to look for inner qualities, rather than superficial things like looks and money?" He gulped and looked a bit worried. "I don't know if I should . . . uh . . . It's not that I don't want to tell you, but people don't believe me, they think I'm making it up."

"Why not teach girls not to wait to be rescued? The man that comes is not always a prince..." Her thoughts slipped to something beyond the here and now. She returned to the present, "Tell me, I promise to believe you."

"I was talking about love, at the time. Whether Snow White could have rescued herself or not wasn't really the point I was trying to make. But anyway . . . " He gulped, and looked at Izira. "It's kind of a . . . romantic story. Oh well, you've told me about some of your past relationships, I guess I can tell you one of mine." He takes a breath and thinks a second, making sure he's got the story all together in his mind.

"I am just saying... if we are to look to a story's morals." She passed him, kissing his cheek. "I should hope your romantic story with the Elvish Princess has good morals."

"Well, I don't know. If a man rescuing a woman is going to upset you, you might not like it." He smiled a bit at the kiss, and goes on with the story. "A daughter of an Elvish Marquess got lost deep in the woods, and had been kidnapped by a band of orcs, that were going to hold her ransom. Our Guild was made aware of the situation. They were afraid if they attacked, they would kill the girl. So they sent me in to try to sneak her out. I was able to smuggle her out of the camp, but a mountain lion attacked us. It was one of the scariest moments I had as a Ranger. I barely defeated it, but I was wounded, and needed to rest. So we built a fire and decided to camp until dawn. She wanted to show her gratefulness, so we made love next to that camp fire. When I got her back, her parents were grateful, but they refused to let her see me again. She was nobility, and was promised to another."

Izira paused in her cleaning, looking curiously to Gren.

He looked quietly at the table he had just cleaned, then back at her. "Now do you understand my story of the Woodsman?"

"I am sorry the Woodman did not get to marry his Elvish Princess."

"Ah well. It wasn't meant to be, I guess." He finished wiping down the tables, he went over to the dessert table, and picked up what was left of the pies and brought the over to the sink.

She softly chuckled to herself as she continued to clean, "A woman having sex out of gratitude does not exactly sound like making love, but I am inclined to believe you. I know one night with someone does not always make it a one-night stand. Sometimes... it does not take long to know what your heart desires." She smiled softly to herself, but then thinking on her words, her smile turns apologetic. "It is... easier to rush into things when you are younger."

He chuckled a bit. "Maybe I was a bit vague about why we made love. I didn't tell you what we said to each other. Also, the danger, how close to death we both had been could have had something to do with it. I felt I loved her. Just something about her, I guess. Her face, her hair, the way she snuggled up to me that night, what we said to each other. She made me think she would be with me for the rest of my life. Heh, maybe like you said it's easier when you're younger to rush things like that."

"Rush into love. Rush into danger. Sometimes they are one in the same."

Delver's Hall

Friday, October 25, 2013



Gren walked down the street, holding Izira's hand, wearing his customary grey cloak, but with his hood pushed back. "I've never been to Delver's Hall before." He glanced at the tall building and swallowed. "Well, I'm ready if you are." He glanced at Izira.

The grey trench coat covered the brown dress, but left a bit of lower leg and her cream-colored peep-toe sling back heels to be seen. Her hair was pulled up into a tidy twist like the night before. The chain of her locket could be seen, dipping below the collar of her coat. Izira returned the squeeze of Gren's hand as she smiled and led the way in. "Then let us enter."

The makeshift market out front in the building's not-quite-a-courtyard had fewer customers than normal and even a few less vendors, people still adjusting to RhyDin's rather abrupt cold snap. Noira herself wasn't out there, though she'd taken advantage of the slow business to secure a better deal on a healing salve. She'd picked a table near the massive Job Board in the back, less interested in the comings and goings of people posting, signing and snatching contracts than the bored-looking rogue fidgeting with his throwing knives two armchairs down from her. Instead the elfess' head was bent to her studies, several books, notes and rubbings spread out on the low table in front of her, detailing ritual magic, lunar alignments and portal fluctuations. She'd chosen a pair of skinny jeans, a dark turtleneck and boots today, plus her leather jacket currently folded across her armrest. Her ears twitched at the sound of people entering, but as there were perhaps a dozen other patrons milling about the hall, she did not find it to be cause to look up. She did, however, look up at the bar when she realized her mug was empty: "Boro! More cider, please." The dwarven adventurer-turned-legal-consultant-sometimes-bartender grumbled but did as asked.

"Alright then." Gren smiled back, and walked with Izira through the courtyard, past the statues and the vendors. Not really interested in buying anything, he went up to the sturdy double doors and held one open for Izira, before he followed her through and into the main bar.

Izira's steps slowed upon entering, giving her amber-brown eyes ample time to take in the expanse of the building's interior. She looked less at the people and more at the set-up and architecture. Noira's voice, raises over those of the few others present, called Izira's attention. The woman turned to her companion and nodded her head in Noira's direction. "Our walk has proved a success, Noira is here."

"Make that three ciders!" Shouting wasn't really in Noira's nature (outside of combat), but the hall was rather massive and it never hurt to raise your voice to be heard. "Good morning, you two," she greeted them both, not at all aware of the time, "and trust me, you'll want to try the cider. Apparently Boro's uncles make it every year, and it's warm and tasty."

Gren was gazing around nervously at the place, and the patrons of the bar. Izira's comment and nod of her head drew his attention to Noira sitting at her table. "Great. Well, let's go say hello then." He made his way with her, over to where Noira was studying. He opened his mouth to say hello, but Noira beat him to it, calling for the ciders and saying Good morning. He chuckled a bit, "Well, it's more of a Good Afternoon now. Hey, I'm always up for some cider." Inwardly, he was thankful it was a non-alcoholic drink she'd chosen. "May we join you?"

"It is good to see you again, Noira. I have brought Gren here so that the two of you might discuss the wizard's staff that is currently in his care."

"Of course, and is it? Black hells," she sighed, and set her journal down and gathered stray hair back behind her long ears. "Oh yes? I'd nearly forgotten," she smiled. "Tell me about the staff. I'm better with a staff than a sword, and I'd like to hurt people with it. Within the context of the duels, of course."

Gren pulled out a chair for Izira, and waited until she seated herself, before he found his own. "It is. Well, the staff I found belonged to a mage that was doing some kind of plant research deep in the forest. It is a long golden staff, with a blue gem like a sapphire at the top. When you grasp it and mentally ask a question, or wish for something, it springs to life, and says "How may I serve you, Master? Ask any question and I will answer." Little letters, like words in a foreign language appear before your eyes, then turn into RhyDinese words. If you ask it a question, it will show you how to use the staff to perform whatever task you need it to."

Now that they were inside, she undid the ties of her coat to reveal the brown dress worn beneath it. She gave a gentle touch to Gren's arm to thank him for the seat. She rested her coat over the back with care before taking a seat. Her legs crossed.

"That sounds very powerful," Noira murmured, visibly intrigued. Her attention only wavered when their drinks arrived, and she warmed her hands around her mug of cider. "Are you sure that's something you want swung around in the ring?"

She gave a warm smile of thanks as the drink arrived. Izira took the mug and rested it between her fingers, letting the heat from the mug seep into her hands.

He took the mug of cider with a grateful nod to the bartender. "Well, that's the thing. I was supposed to get it looked at by the Mage of our Ranger's Guild. But he's . . . " Asleep all the time. "He's kind of . . . behind in his work. I saw the staff open a portal to another realm. Also, I used it to create an Anti-gravity field around a three hundred or so pound body, so I could carry it a great distance. Maybe you would be able to study the staff for me, and see whether it is useful to duel with, or whether it is too dangerous for that."

"I could certainly do that," she nodded. "I was supposed to begin a course in enchantments before a portal brought me to RhyDin, and testing the staff would be a good way for me to start. And as someone who easily channels magicka from the outside... I may be your most ideal test subject." Sip.

"That's good to hear. I didn't want to bring it with me today, until I was sure you'd be interested in it. It does seem like a powerful tool, and I want to be careful with it until I know what kind of power it has."

"Honestly, I haven't had much time for it. But," Noira smiled, "perhaps the Legion will decide the last six months count as combat pay and give me a whole year's worth of coin up front when I see them again. But... I've still had a few adventures recently," she admitted, reaching over to pat the large grimoire on the table in front of her, its cover stained with black slime. "Mostly to acquire the kind of reading you won't find in your average library."

Her glance carried to the grimoire when Noira pats it. "Is the story of how it came to be in your possession as interesting as the tome itself?"

Gren eyed the black slime covered magical tome warily.

"I think so," Noira smiled. "Of course no one will ever know how a place like RhyDin came to be or if it's always been here somehow, but at one point there was an event that affected a number of magically powerful locations and their displacement across worlds, and possibly time distortion as well, to RhyDin and the surrounding area, called the Great Cataclysm. One such event tore out the foundation and most of the catacombs of a knowledge-seeking monastic order that had spent some time studying portal magic, and perhaps were affected by the Cataclysm as a result. The site hadn't been surveyed in decades, and that survey had been cut short after a few deaths... but I knew these monks had extensive knowledge of portal magic especially as they related to celestial alignments. Exactly what I needed. So I made my way through an abandoned sewer tunnel, through a few barricades to what was left of this displaced abbey underground, and found, in addition to innumerable tomes... bound guardian spirits that could manifest as a thick black slime, wrap around skeletons and make them move." She smiled again. "And they didn't appreciate my intrusion."

Gren's eyes dart from left to right as Noira relates her story. Time Distortion? Great Cataclysm? Celestial Alignments? Way over his head.

"That would explain the... tome's condition." Izira seemed at ease with the Noria's description. "I hope you were not injured in the process."

She laughed. "Slimed, yes, but injured, no. Only my pride was, maybe. I'm not used to being bested by the creatures I encounter in the deep, dark places," she said that with a smirk, "but I know when I'm in over my head, at which point the only good option is to run. Or sometimes hide. Hiding can be good."

"I imagine that was quite the shower." She softly chuckled.

"Mm. I suppose that's what they make them for...?, tapping her chin. "I have a tub in my bathroom already so I was never sure what the shower was for, but it's handy when there's blood, slime, soot or other filth involved..." In her head she was imagining that showers were designed specifically for adventurers.

In a lowered, confidential tone, "They have their other uses." She smiled with amusement.

He gave Izira a sideways glance, nervously cleared his throat a bit, and drank deeply from his mug again.

Noira noted the exchange, and decided to make it worse (for Gren) by replying, "Oh... I am very aware." Siiiip.

Gren turned a shade of pink, and pretended to stare at something on the ceiling that had suddenly become incredibly interesting.

"Are the showers they provide very big?"

"Mm... I'd say big enough for two, but I imagine it would be very close." She was being awful. It was through force of will that she wasn't letting herself feel, or at least show, embarrassment.

Gren started rubbing his forehead with a hand, willing himself to not turn crimson, and failing miserably.

"That is the point, is it not?" A soft chuckle as she looked from Noira to Gren. She rested her chin delicately on her fingertips.

He glanced once, twice, then a third time at Izira, eyeballing her apprehensively.

She lifted a brow in Gren's direction.

"Well, this is true, I suppose. It's what it's intended for, after all." There was a little more mischief in her tone this time when she asked, "Are you alright, Gren?"

He jumped slightly when Noira addressed him. "Me? Alright? Of course I'm alright. Yeah, nobody likes a cramped shower." He swallowed indelicately.

She turned back to Noira, "I have a walk-in shower constructed in my private quarters. Floor to ceiling blue tile, several showerheads, and a built-in bench." She took a sip of her cider.

"That sounds very nice," Noira replied, nodding. "Don't you think so?" Eyes ticked back to Gren. Then back to Izira. "Two people might fit in there a little better, but it would still be close."

Truly, there is room enough for six.... perhaps eight if everyone were to squeeze in tightly."

He had a slightly bug eyed look, mouths the words "six" and "eight", then squeezed his eyes shut as if he had a headache.

The lady's bath is truly impressive, a pity few have gotten to see it. Her heeled foot gently brushed against Gren's leg as he's squeezing his eyes shut.

Noira shook silently with laughter, hiding as much of her face as possible by raising her mug.

"*AH!*", he exclaimed as the foot brushed him, he looked sharply at Izira, then grimaced in embarrassment.

Excuse Noira while she shakily set her mug down and hid her face in the armrest to suppress her laughter.

Despite being much the source of Gren's current condition, she smiled sympathetically to his exclamation but chuckled. Her foot drew away, while her amber-brown eyes watched Gren in return. "I also have a very large tub."

"Oh, now we're going to start in on the tub." He threw his hand in the air a bit.

Noira threw up a hand too, as if yielding in a fight. She was just now getting herself back under control.

A soft chuckle, she shook her head. As Noira yielded, "I will leave it to your imagination."

Tuesday, October 29, 2013



There at the bar of the inn, a glass of wine and a book kept her company. She wore a sheer blue top over a lacy white camisole with a patterned grey skirt. Her strappy heels matched the blouse she wore. The liquid in her wine glass is a moving red and orange. The inside of the inn was warm, a fire burned in the hearth.

When he was finally finished with the commotion at his treehouse yesterday, he got a message to report to his Headquarters to help Westerguard with some mission reports. He didn't get home until late that night, so he missed seeing Izira completely. Early the next morning, he tried to bath and dress hurriedly and get out the door before anyone could interrupt him. But unfortunately he was delayed again, as he saw the smoke from a forest fire and had to report it. Busy until that afternoon, he finally found his way to the portal and up to the Inn. Walking through the door, he pushed his grey hood back. He smiled as he saw Izira at the bar, and makes his way over. "Izira! Sorry I've been away so long."

She lifted her head to the sound of the door, a smile already present. It grew wider at Gren's welcome. "I am glad to see you whole." She moved from the stool, getting Gren a Broot. The bottle brought to him, around the bar. "I hope you managed to avoid arrows." Her comment was a mixture of a jest and true concern.

"Yeah, no arrows this time." He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, giving her a hello kiss. "I missed you."

The bottle of Broot held off to the side with Gren's greeting. She returned the kiss. Izira smiled, her eyes lowered to Gren's chest after the kiss. "Me or my cooking?"

"Right now? You." He touched her cheek with his hand, and gave her another kiss, filled with the longing he'd had for the last three days. "Your cooking? Maybe a little later." He grinned jokingly.

The longer kiss took her breath away. It was a moment before she was able to find her voice again. "Later? I might start thinking someone else is feeding you."

He chuckled. "I just wanted time to give you a proper greeting. If it makes you feel better, I wouldn't want any other woman but you feeding me."

"I feel... very properly greeted." Now she offered him the Broot. "If you do not allow another woman to cook for you how will we manage going out for dinner? Or lunch?"

He took the Broot in one hand, reluctantly removing it from her waist. "Easy, we'll just get a man to do the cooking. Men can be chefs, can't they?"

"They can. But I imagine we will get some less than kind looks if we ask the sex of the chef and leave if it is a woman."

"We'll just have to go to a place called 'Joe's Diner' or 'Bill's Seafood'. That way we know ahead of time."

"The name of a place does not dictate who is cooking, Gren?, she replied with a tilt of her head and a smile.

"That's false advertising then. If I go to a place called 'Bill's', I don't expect 'Florence the Unclean' to be doing the cooking."

"Florence the Unclean?" She gave a soft laugh to that.

"Think about it. Would you want to go to a Restaurant called "Florence the Unclean's Steakhouse"? Doesn't sound too appetizing to me."

"That is why they called it Bill's."

"Exactly! See how logical it is? I'm glad we're in agreement here."

She laughed softly and shook her head.

"Just like if you called this place "Exotic Izira's Forgotten Layers Inn and Massage Parlor", this place would be packed to the rafters. Too bad you don't give massages." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I think calling it 'Exotic' would make those coming in think that they are in for more than a massage." She slipped away and moved back around the bar.

"Well, you have to be a *little* discreet. You may have gentleman clientele who desire a little privacy." He sat on a stool and took a sip of his Broot. "Exotic Izira's Cat House just sounds a little too . . . tawdry?"

"Perhaps I should see if my next visitor is interested in an exotic massage? In private, of course." She set the small book aside and picked up her wine, taking a sip.

Gren got a paranoid look on his face. "Uh, no! Maybe you shouldn't. I was just speaking in hypotheticals, of course. This place is just fine the way it is. Rustic, charming, quiet. Who needs the hustle and bustle of all those paying customers?"

"Certainly, not me." The wine glass held by her smiling lips. The color of the liquid in the glass turned like liquid fire.

"I'm glad we understand each other", he replied with a little exhale of breath. "So, how've you been?"

"I have been well. A young couple passed through here while you were away. They took a room for a couple of nights and then I helped them on their way, they were looking to be wed, against their parents' approval."

"They eloped, huh? How romantic. Love must be in the air." He gave a dreamy little sigh, then another brow wiggle to Izira.

"Love and something else judging by the bump of the girl's belly." Her brow lifted and then lowered. "What of your time away?"

"Oh." His face sort of fell at that, but then he shrugged it off. "Oh, boy, it's been an eventful couple of days. Sunday, some poor old woman thought she saw a giant tearing up the woods. I went out to try to track it down and found absolutely nothing. Then she told me orcs were living in her chimney, goblins were coming out of her stove, and she couldn't get the Dragon out from under her bed. Suddenly I understood the situation perfectly."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She was . . . you know . . . " He twirled his finger around his ear to indicate craziness.

"Interested in you?" She battled to keep her smile hidden.

He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Oh yeah. You know me, the rugged, outdoorsy type. I'm a magnet for elderly women."

"You are a magnet for all sorts of women, from what I have seen."

He turned a bit red in the cheeks. "Well . . . that's not exactly . . . I can't help that."

"If only you had a bigger shower..."

"One that fits six to eight, huh? That sounds . . . exhausting."

"I would think that being a ranger would require some level of stamina on your part."

"Oh, it does. But you see . . . I'm a one woman kind of guy. And there's only one woman I'd like to take into my shower." He gave her a look with his ice blues, setting his chin on his hand and resting his elbow on the bar.

She is drinking when he said that to her, and she took a longer drink. Her eyes glowed brighter for a moment when she swallowed. She set the glass down, sliding it a bit away from herself. Clearing her throat, "Would you care for dinner, Gren?"

"You know, you kind of avoided the subject there . . . .?

The kitchen's door swung open and Izira reemerged carrying a large tray. On three large plates she served up slices of char-grilled beef tenderloin with a three-herb chimichurri sauce, roasted baby potatoes with red peppers, and seasoned roasted Brussel sprouts. Three smaller plates held two slices of fresh baked bread and a small scoop of butter.

Haddon's eyes got wide. So did Gren's, truth be told. "Holy Lord, that is a veritable *feast*. Well serve it up, Missy, because I'm dyin' of hunger over here!"

"You could say, Thank you!" Gren said.

"Alright, tough guy", Haddon said to Gren, then looks back at Izira. "Thank you, Missy, and let's get eatin'! Haw Haw!"

Silverware wrapped in cloth napkins were placed on the bar before each of them, followed by the plates of food. "Are you sticking to coffee or would either of you care for an ale with your meal?" She was already getting Gren a fresh Broot.

"Thank you, Izira." He smiled politely at the food and the Broot, then gave Haddon a pointed look.

Haddon didn't take the hint. "Ale? Hell yeah! Hardest one you got. I need to wash this down with something stronger that coffee!" Moriana shook her head once, preferring the coffee, while all three rangers unwrapped their silverware and started eating. "Mmmm, tell me again why you're datin' Gren, because if you ever change your mind, I could use a good lookin' woman who knows her way around the kitchen! HAW!"

Gren looked like he was going to stab Haddon with his fork.

She set about getting Haddon a mug of the Orktoberfest Ale and placed it before him. "Again? I do not think I have told you once."

"You haven't, have you? Huh. Well why don't you tell me now, because it's a mystery to me!"

"You don't have to answer him." Gren retorted.

"Aw come on, Gren, grow up already, we're just havin' a little fun!" Haddon replied.

Her wine glass was gone, left behind in the kitchen maybe. She filled up a glass of water. Ice cubes forming as the water was added. "Gren is kind, brave, thoughtful, giving.... the fact that he is also attractive is a perk."

"Aw, Izira." Gren looked abashed.

Haddon grinned broadly. "Damn, Gren, you lucky devil. You really got her conned, now dontcha? HAW!" He gave Gren another elbow to the ribs.

"Hey, stop that! What is your problem tonight?"

"We're just enjoyin' a friendly meal, come on!" Haddon chuckled, and downed a rather large portion of the beef tenderloin, guzzling down the Ale along with it.

Izira set down her water, leaning across the table to kiss Gren and soothe his ire at Haddon. Her smile told Gren not to worry about Haddon as she leaned back and sips her water.

Gren smiled tenderly back at her, grateful for her compassion. He ate some of the tenderloin, then buttered a slice of the bread to eat along with it. "This is awesome for someone who didn't have a menu tonight. I think you were just being modest." Gren gave Izira another doe-eyed look.

Haddon nudged Moriana, and pointed to Gren, grinning wide enough to show food stuck in his teeth. Moriana curled her lips in disgust and went back to eating.

"I find a menu limits creativity." She moved, refreshing Moriana's coffee and then taking a seat behind the bar. "I am glad you like it."

"Hell, I'm not worried about creativity. Just give it to me piled high and hot, and give me room cause I'm a loose eater! HAW!" As if to punctuate his statement, Haddon waved his fork wildly in the air, and a chunk of tenderloin went flying behind him.

She sipped her water, noting the flying food. It is one more thing to clean up later.

Haddon spoke to Gren after stuffing another helping of potatoes in his mouth. "So where the hell were you today, Gren? I was going to get you to help us find that damn horse in the bog. We must've tromped through half that swamp lookin' for the darn thing."

"There was a forest fire, out by Purple River. I had to go back to the Headquarters and report it."

"Aw, that's too bad. I liked that place. Hope nobody got hurt."

"I don't think so. I think we got everyone out of the area in time."

She listened to the exchange between the two men. "Do you know how the fire was started?"

Gren glanced back at Izira. "Some kids were playing around in a barn. Knocked a lamp over and lit it on fire. It was full of hay so it went up quick. Spread to the forest. Took a while, and a lot of manpower, to put it out."

She delicately nodded to that. She sipped her ice water again.

Haddon grinned at Izira. "So what have you been doing to keep yourself busy since the buffet? I can't imagine you've had too many crowds like that in here in a while. We can be a handful at times, hah!"

"No, not too many crowds. Only the occasional passer-through. I busy myself with this and that around the inn. The gardens in the back are great for taking a stroll. Neither of you have had the pleasure of seeing the gardens, have you?"

"No, I can't say I have. I don't think Moriana is the "Garden" type, though. Heh. Neither am I, for that matter."

"A pity."

"Don't worry, Missy, I'm the meat and Ale type. And the pretty lady type. So I'm doin' fine right here. HAW!" He raised his mug and took a long, sloppy drink.

Gren gave him another sideways look.

"I will take that as a compliment." She glanced at Gren as he's looking at Haddon.

"I call it like I see it. Heh. I'm surprised, Missy, you haven't asked us more about Gren. We could tell you some juicy stories. You know, to pass the time."

"No! No, you don't have to tell her anything. Please don't!"

"Aw, come on, Gren, don't be such a stick in the mud, we're all friends here!"

"Should friends even have to ask?" She softly fluttered her lashes with the question.

Haddon grinned at Gren. "I think she liked my story. Ah heh heh heh. Who knows, maybe she'll get all hot and bothered thinkin' about you in your "lucky" boxers! HAW! You ought to be thankin' me, buddy!"

"Yeah, you're a big help, Haddon." Gren's face said otherwise.

Returning shortly with another plate, she set it before Haddon. A carafe of coffee is fixed up next and set out by Moriana.

"Are you sure it's not another endless buffet? Heh. There goes my girlish figure. I'm going to have to retire if I keep eating here." Haddon immediately dug in, going for the beef.

"I am sure your stories will be missed." She looked to Gren, tilting her head curiously.

Gren was about to say something negatively, until he caught Izira's look, then he grimaced a bit, before changing his tone. "Yeah. Missed. It'll be a shame." He still looked heavenward regardless.

She smiled, covering her amusement with a sip of water.

"So what do you and Gren do for fun, Missy?" Haddon chuckled, while taking another long drink of his ale.

"Did you really have to ask her that?" Gren said, throwing his hands up in the air.

She glanced over to Gren with a lift of a brow. "We have taken walks, had dinner, and attended a play."

"Well, at least he's gotten you out of the Inn a couple times. That's pretty fast for Gren Blockman. Heh."

"Why don't you mind your own business. That's private between me and Izira."

"I'm just making conversation! We're all worried about you! How are we going to get a ring on that finger of yours if we don't push you a little?"

Gren turned red once again. "I'll put a ring on my . . . on *her* . . . I'll do that when I'm ready!"

"HAW HAW! Poor guy's flustered. Guess I got a little too close to the mark there!"

Even Izira's cheeks colored slightly with that one. "Perhaps you should grace us with another story?"

"Aw, not another story." Gren hid his face in his hands.

"I think you're girlfriend should get to know more about her eventual groom to be! So what kind of a story do you want to hear, Missy?"

"How about you tell me a story about -your- first outing as a ranger?"

"OH HO!! She wants to hear about *ME*, big guy!" Haddon gives another clap to the shoulder of the sulking Gren. "You're off the hook. Well, let's see . . ."

She softly smiled to Gren, then sipped her water as she waited.

"I was always the big, strong type. So when I was a teenager, I wanted to get involved in a job where I could use my strength to have adventures. Most of the men in my village where lumberjacks and miners. I didn't want to get stuck doing that. So I ran off and joined the Rangers. So after that insane training they put us through, I got shipped off to an Outpost on the western edge of the forest. I was told it was a pretty quiet area, and I wouldn't have anything to worry about. That turned out to be bullcrap, as we were ambushed one day by a flock of griffins from God knows where. Since I was the youngest, they sent me out to get help. I ran all the way back to the Headquarters to get some help, but by the time we got back, all five Rangers were dead. It struck me pretty hard, but I realized we have to enjoy this life while we're still alive. So I try to liven up the guys as best as I can."

Izira blinked at the story and was at a loss for words. She glanced at Gren. Did he know this?

Gren is looking at his plate, trying not to let his previous irritation get in the way of Haddon's story. He looked at Izira and nodded sadly, as if to confirm the story was true.

"I can see why you try so hard to be in good cheer."

"Thanks, Missy." Haddon?s face had lost some of its brashness, and his smile was a little more appreciative than arrogant. "Most of my stories are good ones though. Or boring ones. Nine days out of ten we're either sitting around, wondering what's going on, or off in some God forsaken part of the forest chasing somebody's lost puppy."

"Or a horse through a bog." Izira softly smiled, then patted Haddon's hand and stepped away. She started to fix two bags of coffee grounds.

"Hey, you remembered! Heh." He'd already wolfed down most of the seconds, and was finishing off the last of the brussel sprouts.

"How could I forget? You have left a reminder of your time there on my floor." She gave a tip of her head behind him.

"HAW HAW! Hey, it's an Inn! It's supposed to be well traveled! It makes it look like there's been a lot of people here! Gives it that salt of the earth look!"

"It makes it look like there has been one, very muddy, person here." She set the two bags of coffee on the bar, one for Moriana and one for Haddon.

"And coffee too! That'll keep us up all night! Huh?" He gave Moriana a little poke, she glared at him and batted the finger away. "Aw, she just likes playin' hard to get. So how much do we owe you for the meal, Missy? We gotta get going. Duty calls, you know."

"Gren has it covered."

Gren opened his mouth to protest, then he remembered Izira gave everyone free meals anyway. He smiled to Haddon, "Yeah, 'buddy', I gotcha covered. No hard feelings, eh?"

"HAW HAW! Of course not, pal! I'll have to drop by when you're around more often! I'll gotta tell the Missy here the story about you and that sixty year old hooker!"

Gren swallowed his Broot the wrong way, and coughed explosively. "That's not what it sounds like! Honest!" he pleaded to Izira.

Haddon just laughed harder. "Well, Missy, thank you for the meal! We'll come round again one of these days!"

Izira simply reached over to pat Gren's hand. She smiled to Haddon and Moriana. "Thank you for the visit and the stories. Safe journey to you both."

Haddon waved, picked up his cloak and put it back on, then escorted Morian, who was still scowling at him, out the door. "Anyways, Ferguson ain't one to pass up a lady with her panties down, no matter how big she is, so he goes in anyways . . . ", while out the door they went. Gren's head hit the bartop.

Thursday, October 31, 2013



The raven arrived early Thursday morning, carrying with it a note for Gren. The bird did not linger for the return missive, but circled and took to the air once the message had been delivered.

Gren -

Pascal has taken ill and I must take him to be seen to immediately. Had I the option, I would wait for you to join me, but I think it best I not delay. I will come to your home as soon as I am able.

With much care,
Izira

Gren watched the raven fly away curiously, then looked down at the note. He read its contents and frowned in concern. Pascal seemed like a nice pet, he hoped the little rabbit would be alright. Then he thought of how the cat and ravens were really former caretakers of the Inn. Was Pascal . . . ? He had no way of knowing yet. He sighed and thought of the last time they saw each other, the tear that rolled down her cheek, and her wet eyelashes. He hoped she wouldn't be gone long. Hefting his staff onto his shoulder, he pocketed the note, then went off on his daily patrol of his sector of the forest.



Tuesday, November 5, 2013




No word came again from the lady until she arrived at Gren's home on Tuesday, early in the evening. She wore a simple dress with brown heels and the locket Gren had given her. With her, she carried a basket in one hand. Her other hand lifting up and, after a pause, doing the secret knock... two knocks and a whistle.

Gren was starting to get worried by the time Tuesday rolled around. He had almost made the trek to the Inn that morning, but he had been called to a secret meeting at the Headquarters regarding Phipps and his management, or lack thereof, of the Guild's supplies. Hearing the 'secret knock', he knew immediately who it was, and almost ran down the steps and flung the door open. "Izira! I was worried about what happened to you." Gren can't help but put his arms around her waist and give her a kiss in greeting.

There was little time for a quick explanation before she was in his arms and her lips beneath his. The basket in her hand dropped to the ground, luckily staying upright, as her hands settled against his arms.

After he's satisfied with the kiss, he embraced her, putting his head next to hers as he spoke in her ear. "I missed you. I hope everything went alright." He then pulled back enough to look into her eyes when she answered.

She gave a soft nod before she found her voice following that kiss. She smiled, "Yes... Pascal... he ate something he should not have. And when he was better he did it again." She shook her head, "I do not know what got in to him, it was all very unlike him." Her hand reached up, allowing her finger tips to move through the thick brush of his bread. "I am sorry if I worried you."

"That's alright . . .? Reflexively, his hand went to brush her cheek as she touched his beard, he looked into her amber brown eyes. "I'm just glad you're back and I get to see you again. Come inside! We can sit down for a while."

Another nod, she was stepping to go in before she remembered the basket. Quickly turning to reclaim it, she held it up and lifted the cloth covering the food within. "I brought dinner. I thought, having not seen each other for a while, your stomach would be growling." Stuffed chicken breasts, mashed potatoes, and steamed greens sat in individually wrapped packages. An apple pie crumble was waiting as well. She stepped into Gren's home and moved up to the kitchen to unpack the food.

"It smells great!" He followed her up to the kitchen, keeping his arm around her waist as if afraid she'll get away from him again. Reluctantly, he withdrew it as she began to unpack the food, but he stood close enough to watch. "So what exactly was it that Pascal ate?" He then moved to get some plates and silverware out for them, figuring he can at least set the table after she brought dinner.

"The specialist I took him to thinks he ate a poisonous plant from the woods the first time... the second time he managed to get into the doctor's supplies." She frowned and shook her head.

"Aw, sorry to hear that." He put the plates and silverware on the table, and went back for some glasses and napkins while he talked. "Uhhh . . . Pascal isn't . . . like Jeremiah is he? I mean, a person in animal form?"

She paused in getting the food out, adding portions to the plates Gren put on the table. "I... have not thought so..."

"Oh. He wasn't there with Jeremiah and the ravens, then?" He went to his icebox and pulled out a Broot for himself, and the half-full bottle of Red Merlot that he got for her the last time they had dinner. "Is Merlot alright for you?" He says, holding up the bottle.

"I... found him in the forest one day..." There is an edge of uncertainty in her voice that has little to do with the wine. She quickly nodded. "It is."

He nodded and gave her a curious look, then popped the cork and poured her a glass, leaving the bottle on the table. "What made you decide to bring him home with you?" He went over to his chair and took a seat, trying to keep an eye on her and not the chicken breast.

"His leg was hurt..." She finished setting out the two plates, leaving the pie in the basket for the time. Izira took her seat, still thinking, "But when I returned to the inn with him, it was fine... and he had no interest in returning to the forest."

"Well, that's interesting. Huh." He rolled that over in his mind for a moment, while he took the first bite of the chicken. His face brightened. "That's really good! Is that . . . thyme?"

"You have a very good palate. It is a pity you are not a chef... but, perhaps, I will make one of you yet." She smiled softly, even with her thoughts lingering on the rabbit.

"Hey, I already make a mean Cherry-Pineapple Cobbler, you know." Never mind it was half made up for him. He was still thinking about Pascal as well. "It's not natural for an animal's leg to heal itself like that. For him to not want to return to the forest either. It sounds to me like there might be something special about Pascal."

"If.. there is... it would make sense that he would prefer the inn to the forest... but why would he be so careless in what he eats now?"

Gren was eating a spoonful of the potatoes, and swallowed before speaking. "I don't know . . . purposely eating a poisonous plant, or doctor's medicine . . . " Then he thinks of something. "Has Jeremiah returned yet?"

"It looked as though Silas had been through the inn.. but I had not thought to linger to catch up... I... I had wanted to see you."

He smiled softly. "That good to hear. For my sake, at least. I'm glad Jeremiah is back too." He ate a few green beans while he thought. "If Jeremiah is back, maybe you could ask him what's going on. He would know if Pascal was more than a rabbit, wouldn't he? And how to talk to him if he was?"

"It is a reasonable enough thought." She thought more than ate, a soft sigh. "I know it is unfair of me to think this... perhaps, if what you say, if Pascal is more than a rabbit, Jeremiah had his reasons for not telling me.... but...it slightly feels like another of his games."

Gren frowned a bit, was kind of thinking the same thing, but didn't know how to say it. "Maybe he's trying to protect Pascal. Or maybe he's important to the realm in some way." He took a drink of his Broot to wash down what he'd already eaten.

"Perhaps." Those were more questions that would not be answered that night. Izira finally shook her head and pushed on to other topics, "Tell me what I have missed."

"Certainly, let's go then!" He put his arm around her waist and led her downstairs. "Hold on a second, I feel incomplete without my grey cloak on." He took his cloak from off a peg by the door and pulled it over his head. "There we go." He then opened the door for her, escorting her out before locking it behind him. "It's a little ways to the northeast. Shouldn't be too long of a walk."

She followed his lead, staying close. "I am not worried about the distance."

"That's good. I haven't gotten to hold hands with you for a while." He slipped his hand in hers as they walked. The area of the forest they were hiking through looked old. Huge oak trees surrounded the well worn forest path, and the leaves had turned a variety of colors due to the autumn season. Red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves could be seen painting the trees of the forest, as well as lying on the path they tread. "This is one of my favorite places in the forest. One of the safest too. I go this way almost every day."

"It is very lovely, I can see why you would enjoy it." Her amber-brown eyes took in the various shades of the foliage around them as they walked hand in hand. Her mind wandered.

He smiled gently at her, before looking back over the forest, although partly to keep his eyes open. Soon he saw a furry face peeking at him from around a tree. He squinted a bit, but it seemed the face recognized who he was and revealed itself. It was a hedgehog that looked almost two feet tall, standing on its hind legs, carrying a basket in one hand. It waved with the other paw towards Gren.

"Yoohoo! Gren! Good evening to you!"

Gren smiled big. "Hello, Missus Brownhill, how are you this evening?" Gren then looked at Izira, a bit sheepishly. "Some of the animals in this part of the woods . . . they, uh . . . talk." Missus Brownhill ambled her way over to Gren with a smile on her furry face.

The voice brings Izira out of her day dream. The hedgehog might save Izira's light blush from being seen before it faded as her attention turned toward Missus Brownhill. Izira turned her head and lowered her voice to speak softly into Gren's ear, "I can see that." Her smile then turned to the approaching hedgehog.

He gave Izira a slight, helpless shrug, before Missus Brownhill stood before him.

"I'm doing well, Gren. I just wanted to thank you for shooing that nasty cougar away from our home. My poor children almost became that brute's dinner! How can such a thing happen in this part of the forest? Oh! Who is this lovely young woman you've brought with you?"

"Oh, uh, this is Izira Nyte. She's the Keeper of the Forgotten Layers Inn."

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Izira!" The hedgehog lifts up on its hind feet and extends its paw up to shake Izira's hand.

Izira leaned down, accepting the hand and giving it a little shake. "It is a pleasure."

"Oh, that's a good, strong grip you have there. I see you two are holding hands. Hoo hoo hoo! Oh, Gren, I'm so glad. A man your age ought to have two or three little ones running about by now!"

Gren turned a bit red and looked heavenward.

"Well, I don't want to interrupt your romantic walk. It is so lovely this time of year. I have to be getting home and bring these mushrooms to my hungry children. Goodbye Gren and Goodbye Izira! Hoo hoo hoo!" Missus Brownhill gave Gren a knowing smile and a little wave before moving back into the forest.

Izira's cheeks colored slightly as well. She looked back to Gren as Missus Brownhill made her way off.

Gren had a look halfway between embarrassment and bewilderment. "She's . . . just looking out for me, I guess. Heh." He then gulped and led her up the path again. "I have to pay special attention around here. There are a lot of animals like Missus Brownhill that need protection."

"A lot of animals that think you should have two or three little ones running around by now?" She teased.

"Well . . . I . . . " He cleared his throat. "I have had plenty of duties that have kept me busy over the years." He answered evasively. "The Hedgehogs just like to gossip, is all."

"Are they as bad as Franco?" Her eyes drifted back toward where the hedgehog has wandered off to.

"Even worse. Although they don't have a newspaper column. Hey, you remembered Marc Franco! He's still around I think. On a hiatus, though. He takes breaks now and then. He didn't write anything about you, did he?" Changing the subject there, Gren gave Izira a sidelong glance and a grin.

"A time or two. I fear Franco missed much of the true story of things... but that was the point."

"Really?" He kind of didn't expect that. "I know what you mean. It's more for entertainment purposes. I don't think he ever wrote anything about me. Then again, I never gave him anything to write about, I suppose." The forest began to descend down towards a river, and the oaks tapered off until its mostly younger poplar trees.

"It was a long time ago."

"Yes, it was." He let it go at that. They descended the path toward the river, which had a deep blue color. There was a wooden bridge there, which looked well built and sturdy enough to hold heavy foot traffic. "I . . . uh . . . hope Haddon didn't make too much of a mess the last time I was over." He remembered the incident with some embarrassment.

"The threat of him bedding me?" She glanced back to Gren as they moved across the bridge. "He is not my type." There was amusement in her voice.

His face fell when she said the words "bedding me", but she followed it with him not being her type, which elicited an explosive breath of relief. "That's good to know. No, I meant more the mud he tracked everywhere, and his . . . colorful stories."

"Mud can be cleaned. I do not think his mind can..." She softly chuckled.

"Yeah, you've got a point. He means well, he just doesn't understand some people don't care for his . . . brand of humor." The trees seem to have thinned out, and consist of more fruit trees and brush. In the distance, there was a large wall made of tall logs that had been cut to a point at the top. The path led up to a wooden gate, with a guardhouse at the top.

Gren escorted Izira out, his hand resting on the small of her back, and shut the door behind him. "That was rather . . . devious of you. I kind of like it." He kissed her forehead as they walked to the door leading outside.

"Whatever do you mean?" Smiling innocently, she pulled it off.

He gave her an exaggerated wink. "Mean? Why nothing at all. Your secret is safe with me." He held the door open for her as they stepped back outside. As they did, a large man, clad in studded leather battle armor almost slammed into Gren. He had long, grey hair, and a scowl on his face.

"Grr, whu . . . Gren? What are you doing here?" He gave Izira a cursory look, then went back to glaring at Gren.

"General! Sir. I was . . . uhh . . . just showing Izira around the Headquarters." It was Westerguard. He glared at Gren for a moment as if trying to find something wrong with that. "And Perrigan approves?"

"Uh . . . yes, Sir." Westerguard scowled harder. "If he says so. I need you to do something for me. While you're . . . touring the Headquarters, deliver this message to Malcolm. The little twerp. Sooner rather than later, if you catch my drift."

"Certainly, General, uh . . . let me introduce you to . . .? Before Gren can finish the statement, he had stomped through the door, slamming it behind him. Gren gave the vanishing Westerguard a baffled look, then glanced to Izira again. "Sorry. He's the grumpy type."

"Truly? I would have never thought that with his sunny disposition." She glanced to the message, "Shall we deliver the message then? I would not want to further the general's sour mood."

"Yeah, let's get it out of the way." Gren glanced down at the scroll in his hand. "It's over here. He has his own barracks where he keeps all the magical items we find on our missions." He ushered Izira back across to the eastern side of the main building. There was a little red shack with a trail of smoke coming from a chimney. There were various piles of books, boxes, and junk cluttered by the door. Gren grimaced at the mess, but knocked on the door. "Malcolm! Malcolm, it's Gren!" No answer. "Malcolm! Wake up, I have a message from Westerguard!" No answer still. Gren grunted and opened the door, motioning Izira to follow him. The opened door revealed one big room. Malcolm, the blonde, lanky half-elf, was sitting in a chair by a desk, leaned all the way back, snoring, with his arms folded across his chest. The desk had a messy stack of papers all over it, and there was a rumpled, unmade bed in the corner. Staves, potions, and magical books were piled to the roof, in no discernible order. Gren glanced to Izira, then to Malcolm, and he cleared his throat loudly.

Malcolm started, and almost fell backwards in his chair. "Whu . . . ?" He looked bleary-eyed at Gren. "Gren. Dude. What the hell, man. You know." Malcolm rubbed his eyes and coughed weakly.

Quietly Izira followed Gren into Malcolm's quarters. She glanced around more at the mess than the sleeping half-elf. As Malcolm awakened, she offered him a little wave in greeting.

Malcolm peered at Izira through bloodshot eyes. "Oh yeah. You. Yeah. Chick at the buffet. Whoa. Alright." He barely had the energy to lift his hand in the briefest of waves. "Okay. We said Hi. Now I have some important . . . research to do. Okay?"

Gren gave Malcolm a stern look. "I have a message from Westerguard." He handed over the scroll emphatically.

Malcolm slowly took the scroll and looked at it like he'd never seen one before. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Alright. Thanks for stopping by. And stuff." He gave Izira another vacant look. "Dug the food. Really."

"I suggest reading the scroll, Malcolm. I would hate for Gren to suffer Westerguard's displeasure should we leave and you fall to sleep without doing so." Her words were gently suggestive, but she allowed the aura of her own magic, the strong, natural magic of fire and ice, to be visible by the other magic user, leaving Gren unaware.

"What the . . . " Malcolm raised up in his chair slightly, recognizing the aura. He peered at Izira as if trying to figure something out, then finally gave up. "Huh. No way. Okay then." Lazily, he unfurled the scroll, his eyelids almost slam shut several times, but he made it through and grunted a bit. "Man, that dude is waaaaay too harsh. He needs to lighten up. Take it easy. Go with the flow. You know." Malcolm looked at Gren and managed a thin line of a smile. "Alright. I read it. Can I go back to . . . my research now?"

Gren gave Malcolm a disapproving look. "Geez, Malcolm."

"Don't lecture me, dude."

The magic slipped away. Izira took in the collection as the man attempted to read. Once he was finished, Izira slipped her hand into Gren's, stepping toward the door. "We have done as asked. Malcolm's collection is interesting, but I would like to see something more. Nice to see you again, Malcolm. Enjoy your... research."

"Yeah. Have a good one?, Malcolm replied.

Gren glared at Malcolm a little more, but followed Izira as she tugged him out the door. A little thump can be heard, as the scroll fell out of Malcolm's hand, and he went back to sleeping before the door even shuts behind them. "Geez, I can't believe he can sleep all day like that. Westerguard's going to have a fit if he catches him. Alright, let me see . . . " Just as Gren had stopped and was looking up the road to decide where to go next, two people came walking up the road towards the main building. One was a handsome blonde man with a dimpled chin, wearing a maroon shirt and brown pants. The other was an attractive half-elf woman, with auburn hair that fell in curls around her shoulders. She was wearing a tight leather vest, and had a bow slung over one shoulder. The pair were arguing with each other.

"I told you a million times, I never touched that woman. She was just some broad I bumped into at the Tavern that night?, the blonde man argued.

"That's not what Haddon said", the woman replied angrily.

"Haddon talks a lot of $#!&, and you know it."

They both see Gren standing there with Izira, and identical looks of shock crossed their faces. The man's expression melted away into a look of contempt, while the woman continued to look apprehensive. Gren swallowed hard, glanced at Izira, and then led her over to the couple, who were standing just a few feet away. "Izira, this is Rhett Taylor, and Janna Silverstar." Gren pointed to the man and the woman. "This is Izira Nyte, Keeper of Forgotten Layers Inn."

Rhett crossed his arms and glared at Gren. Janna gulped a bit, then extended her hand, managing a smile for Izira. "It's nice to finally meet you. Gren talks about you all the time."

Izira can easily tell who the two are, giving all Gren had told her. She watched the couple curiously in their argument. A kind smile was offered as Gren introduced them. "It is nice to put some faces to your names as well." Izira took Janna's offered hand, giving a delicate but firm grip. "It was a pity the two of you could not join us for the dinner held at the inn." Amber-brown eyes glanced between the couple, but keep mainly on Janna.

Janna smiled kindly at Izira, her mouth moved as if to make an excuse, then she failed. "Perhaps another time." Rhett stopped glaring at Gren long enough to give Izira a suggestive up and down leer, taking his time. "Well, 'Dreamboat', I see you've done well for yourself."

"Rhett, please . . . " Janna gave him a pleading look. Rhett shot a glare back at Janna, before extending his hand to Izira. "It certainly is a pleasure to meet *you*."

The hesitation to take the offered hand is hardly long enough to be noticed by anyone before she accepted his extended one in her own. Izira smiled warmly to Rhett, but it does not truly reach her eyes.

Rhett let his hand linger in Izira's a few moments longer than he should, slowly letting his fingers slide from her grasp as if reluctant to do so.

Gren gave Rhett a hard glare. "I was just showing her around. I think we should be going now." Gren took Izira's hand in his for emphasis. "Nice to see you. Rhett." His tone said otherwise. It softened a bit into a more friendlier tone for Janna. "Janna."

"Goodbye, Gren. I'm happy for you." She briefly laid her hand on Gren's shoulder. Rhett's face boiled with rage, he grabbed Janna's arm and roughly pulled her away and down the street. "Come on."

Haddon was sitting in a chair at a table, a massive mug of ale in one hand. He was smiling and talking to Moriana, who was sipping a mug of coffee, and giving him a sideways glare. "So . . . AW HAW HAW . . . so Ferguson says to the guy . . . "I bet under all that horse$#!& you call a brain, you thought you had a pony, now didn't ya?" HAW HAW HAW!" Haddon was laughing so hard the ale came flying out of his mug. Moriana continued her glare of annoyance. Haddon saw Gren and Izira and grinned broadly. "My buddy Gren! And the Little Missy! Well well well! Come on over and have a seat!"

"Telling tales again, why am I not surprised?" Izira smiled and moved to the table, taking a seat as offered. She smiled and dipped her head in greeting to Moriana. "Do they pay you extra for having to listen to him?"

Gren chuckled and sat next to Izira. Moriana gave Izira a sour look, pointed at Haddon, made a fist, and punched her left hand with it suggestively. Haddon delivered another brash laugh. "Oh, don't listen to Moriana, she's just grouchy today. So what brings you two out here? Did Gren wise up and take my advice? Haw! You can thank me later, big guy." Haddon gave Gren a little poke in the ribs.

There is a knowing smile for Moriana. Izira glossed over Haddon's comment on Gren taking his advice. "Gren is giving me a tour."

"Ooooh, a tour. Heh heh. He'll have to bring you around to the "Kissing Tree". That's where me and Moriana had our first little date with destiny." Haddon made an exaggerated kissy face and leaned towards Moriana purposefully. Moriana planted her hand on his mouth and shoved him back roughly, almost causing him to fall backwards in his chair. "AW HAW HAW! It was just a joke! Come on, Moriana, be nice in front of our guests!" Moriana glared warningly, turned to Izira, made a slight kissy face, then shook her head in the negative emphatically, as if to say they never kissed.

Izira nodded her understanding to Moriana, then curiously added, "Anyone?" Moriana didn't exactly strike her as the affectionate type, but that did not put it beyond the realm of possibility. She glanced to the men, "Gren had not mentioned a kissing tree."

Moriana gave Izira a secret smile, lifted a solitary ivory eyebrow, then picked up her mug and began to sip her coffee again. Haddon gave Gren a big slap on the shoulder. "Gren, my boy, I just gave you a one way ticket to a make out session. You oughta thank me!"

Gren looked slightly uncomfortable. "That story is just an old wives tale. You guys just keep telling it to put the moves on poor, unsuspecting girls."

"AW HAW! That's the way the game is played, Gren! You gotta use every weapon in the arsenal in the battlefield of love! HAW!"

Gren sighed and looked heavenward, then glanced back at Izira. "There's a weeping willow over by the north wall.?Some' people say . . . ?, he looks pointedly at Haddon, " . . . that an elf girl and a human boy fell in love, but they couldn't see each other because their towns had gone to war. The boy sent a message to the girl to meet him at midnight under that weeping willow, to prove she truly loved him. She escaped her town and made it to the appointment, and kissed him under the tree. It is said that their ghosts haunt the tree, and whoever kisses under it will find true love."

"Ain't that just romantic? HAW!" Haddon adds for emphasis.

Izira grinned at Moriana's smooth manner and secrecy. She listened to the tale of the kissing tree. "You do not think the story is true?" There was mild surprise in her voice, as Gren was much the romantic and that sounded like a rather romantic tale. She glanced to Haddon. Of course, it could be how some people had used the story that soured Gren on it. "I think it is a romantic story."

Gren looked back at Izira. "Oh, it's a very romantic story. I just wish I could believe it. Knowing where it came from." He gave Haddon another pointed look.

"Do you think I'd lie about something like that, Gren? I'm hurt. Really. You shouldn't be so cynical. It's not your style!"

"Yeah, well, maybe we'll take a look at the Tree, later."

"That's my boy! Show some initiative!" He punctuated his reply with another shoulder slap for Gren. Then Haddon turned on Moriana. "Mori! You hurt me too! I thought you were saving yourself for *me*? You know I like the strong, silent type!" Moriana slowly turned her head to give Haddon a flat look of non-amusement. "I'm gonna get you under that tree. Then you won't be able to resist. It's fate, baby, you know it." Moriana mimicked Gren's heavenward gaze, looked at Izira, made a gun of her index finger, put it to her temple, and dropped the metaphorical hammer that was her thumb.

She chuckled and shook her head, looking to Haddon, "I do not think you would be able to walk long enough to get her close to this tree... but I am sure there will be other lasses for you."

"Oh, there *have* been, Little Missy, there *have* been. HAW! Doesn't seem that true love thing has worked out yet, though, none of 'em stay around long enough! That's alright, I think I know where my true love lies." Haddon gave a sideways look at Moriana, and a comical wink. Moriana aimed the index finger of her fake gun at Haddon's head now. Haddon raised his hands defensively. Gren chuckled at the two.

Izira chuckled as well, looking to Gren with amusement. The company of Haddon and Moriana was making up for the brush with Rhett.

"Well, who am I to say no to that? Alright then." He guided her down another dirt path, past several more log barracks, until they get to an open area near the northern wall. A large, weeping willow stood in a little garden of wildflowers. No one seems to be around. He escorted her up to the tree and let go of her hand, but just so he can slip his arm around her waist again. "There you are. The Kissing Tree. I would think people would be more worried about the ghosts, if they believed that story."

"It is... very tree-like." She looked over the willow with a smile before looking back to Gren. "Are you worried about ghosts?"

"Me? Not really. I just meant if people really believed that story, would they want to kiss here if they thought the ghosts were floating around? I *would* be scared. If I believed that story.' He put his other arm around her waist and pulled her close again. "I might need someone to hold me close until I didn't feel scared anymore." He glanced upwards and tried to feign innocence.

"Haddon looks to have strong arms, should I go fetch him for you?" She looked up, the tease alive in her smile.

"I would . . . but Moriana might get jealous. You wouldn't want her to give me a black eye, would you?"

"I hear black eyes can add a lot of character."

"I can think of other ways to build character. Ways a lot less painful. Like . . . well, we could give that whole "True Love by the Kissing Tree" theory a test, couldn't we?"

"We could. If only you would stop talking and start kissing me."

"Uhh . . . okay." He leaned forward suddenly and does just that, pressing his lips against hers. His arm snaked up her back, until he's holding the back of her head in his hand.

She didn't much know about the power of a kissing tree, though the story was romantic as she said. The only power Izira sought was that which lingered in the exchange of the kiss that took her breath away. Her hands rested against his chest, leaving the barest of space between them.

He ran his fingers through her brown hair, and slowly took her bottom lip between his. His nose rubbed against hers as he breathed in her scent, and blocked out everything else but her from his mind.

Izira's fingers moved, torn between pulling Gren closer and reclaiming that space between them. She felt at a loss for air, the smell of him surrounding her almost intoxicating. The kiss went on and her heart raced, her mind wandered again to the thoughts from the woods. Finally she parted from the kiss, her features flushed and breath shaky. Izira licked her lower lip, still feeling the press from his. Looking down and away, she laughed softly and almost nervously.

He took in a deep breath, watching her curiously. "What's so funny?" He let his hands slide down to the small of her back.

"That I keep torturing myself in this way." Her smile was soft and she did not turn her face toward him. "I know what you are waiting to hear from me... and...? She shook her head and looked to him, "I do not want to you think that I do not care for you... nor that I... do not desire you. But... my body is much ahead of my heart at this moment..."

Gren gazed at her with love in his eyes. He lifted a hand to gently cup her cheek in his fingers. "Well, you know, we are in a public place. Maybe we should wait until we have a little more privacy." He tried to joke a bit to ease her discomfort.

Leaning to his hand, "It would matter little to me where we were, only that it was you I was with." It was as much as she could give him for the time. She smiled, moving her hands to bring Gren?s that cupped her cheek to her lips to kiss his palm before stepping back and regaining a little space. "Still... waiting is a good idea." Time and not just for privacy.

He barely heard her words, he felt the softness of her skin in his fingers, the warmth of her body against him, he watched her lips move, more interested in kissing her again than her explanation. "Then we wait. I'm glad to hear that though. That it's me you want to be with." He sighed a bit, then nodded. "Are you ready to go back?"

"I am." She stepped back and took his hand again.

"Alright." He took her hand and led her down through the rows of barracks, and out the front gate, back into the forest. This time there is no one to interrupt them as they make their way along the path to his treehouse.

As they arrived back at the treehouse Izira is left to make the next decision, looking up at Gren's home and unsure if she should stay or not. Likely her look betrayed that inner thought.

Gren stood with her, the unspoken question hung in the air between them. He squeezed her hand gently, then slowly turned his head to look at her. "You could stay here tonight. I want you to stay. I'll sleep on the floor. I promise I won't do anything you don't want."

"And if I did want it against my own better judgment?" She smiled, shaking her head and placing a slender finger to his lips to halt any retort. "We could get the pie to take back to the inn. You would have a bed there." A whole room to himself.

He was going to retort, but the finger stopped him. Any kind of touch would have, really. "We could do that. I want to be close to you tonight. Even if being under the same roof is as close as I can get." He gently led her to the door and fished the key out of his pocket, opening it.

She smiled, following inside the house, giving a light touch to his arm in passing. "I will get the pie ready and you can pack anything you might need. Remember, you have the day off tomorrow."

He sighed. "As much of a handful as Rhett is, he has the best skills of any of the Rangers. Even Haddon. Most people don't like his attitude, but they follow him because of his natural talents. They put a lot of trust in Rhett. That's why they gave him Recon "A". I guess they're hoping one day he'll get his attitude in check."

"Or it will get the better of him." No weigh-in on which way Izira was likely to bet on it happening. "Dreamboat." The word said far kinder than Rhett's delivery. "It is no wonder you are so popular with the ladies."

He glanced sharply at Izira when she called him 'Dreamboat', then he can't help but smile and roll his eyes heavenward. "Rhett's called me 'Dreamboat' ever since we were new recruits. We both had a crush on Janna, but when Janna picked me over him, he was kind of stunned. He said, "You must be one helluva Dreamboat, Gren." He's called me that ever since, although now it's more mocking, since he took . . . since he's with Janna now." He tried not to show any emotion, although what he does show is discomfort, not heartbreak.

"I do not disagree with that, you being a dreamboat. Janna was foolish to let you go, I cannot see how she could not regret the choice she made now." Recalling how Rhett had pulled the woman away. ".. I know... you have some hope of Rhett turning his attitude around, but should I never see him again it will be too soon."

Gren set his jaw, thinking of Rhett leering at Izira, fondling her hand, and roughly grabbing Janna. "I hope you don't have to see him again, either. I'm afraid he's going to do something to you just to get to me. I don't want to put you in an awkward spot. I'm glad he didn't come to the buffet, especially after what he did. Janna does regret her choice. I wish she would just leave him, but I think she stays with him to try to justify what she did. I don't know what else it could be, really, because it doesn't look like love to me."

"It does not." She agreed softly. Her hand lightly touched her neck as she swallowed.

"Let's not think about them. It's water far gone under the bridge. I'm glad we have what they don't." He turns a bit red. "I mean . . . we don't treat each other like they do. And we're together . . . for different reasons."

"Different reasons entirely." Smiling and leaning against Gren as they walked.

He smiled back, and lifted his arm to cup around her shoulder as she leaned against him. "I saw Rena a few nights ago. She asked how you were doing. I told her you were doing well. I said you liked the candles she gave you. She said she can give you more whenever you want them."

"I should get out to visit her again."

"Hey, you know, Noira tends the Stars End Bar on Thursday nights. Maybe we can swing by. Rena might be there. Or I could ask her to stop by, if I see her between now and then."

"That would be nice... I have never been to Stars End Bar."

"It's kind of . . . uh . . . strange. Futuristic. I've dueled there a few times when they've hosted Fists that night."

"I think I recall you mentioning the place before, you were there to duel... before you came to the inn. People had been picking on you..."

"Aw, geez." He rubbed his eyes with his hand. "Yeah. The night Kal stuck me with a needle and paralyzed me. God, I can't believe I'm teammates with him now."

"That... is the one your other teammate doesn't get along with?" Izira's face likely gave away her confusion toward the type of people Gren is hanging around.

"Yes, Candy. And saying she doesn't get along with him is an understatement. It's almost a year now since their feud started." He thought back to Rakeesh and his Overlord reign. "I think she . . . wants to kill him. That's what it sounded like to me, anyway."

"Did he paralyze her too?" She was trying to understand it all.

"Let me see if I remember correctly. Candy was the Overlord, that is the top fighter, of the Duel of Swords. A liontaur named Rakeesh challenged her for the title. He had upset a great deal of people at the time, because he was Baron of one of the districts of the city, and had proposed legislature that would force magic users to register with the government. This caused an uproar and a lot of people were offended by his actions. Some people got killed in anti-magic riots. Anyhow, part of the challenge process is that the Overlord can demand a Test of Worthiness, meaning the challenger has to face a Champion before they face the Overlord. The challenger can have a Champion step in for him during this Test. Kalamere stepped in for Rakeesh, and defeated Candy's Champion. Then Rakeesh defeated Candy. That's what started everything."

"Sounds like a very sore loser." Izira frowned, "Not that I am much of a fan of this Kalamere, from what you have told me of him."

"Kalamere is kind of the roguish type. He's a known ladies man. Another thing that got Candy upset with him was a version of her from another dimension came here to RhyDin, and they . . . " He cleared his throat. "They were kind of having . . . you know . . . relations. Her already being upset with him, that kind of pushed her over the edge, I think."

"That is..." Izira blinked and could find no words for it. It seemed RhyDin could still find something to surprise someone with. She shook her head. "Relations." A brow quirked at the way Gren said it. "Relations." She repeated the word to him again.

"Come." She lowered her free hand to his and stepped toward the inn after he picked up his backpack. "I will show you your suite and we can have the pie there." They walked down the path to the inn and up the steps, no door needing to be unlocked. The lights were on as they entered and Silas sat on the bar top. It reminded Izira of her concerns with Pascal, but she did not want to follow that thought at the moment. The basket was set on the bar and Izira scratched the cat's head before moving around and taking out a key from the box. The key was placed on the bar for Gren. "If you want to go on up I will follow with the pie in a moment."

He followed her into the Inn. He was glad to see the cat, having wondered where it had disappeared to all those days. He took the key, hesitant about wanting to leave her, but knowing she'd be up soon. He smiled and moved to the stairs, pushing back his grey hood, walking towards the door of the suite. He placed the key in the lock and opened the door.

The door opened into a sitting room, a dark wood coffee table sat before a plush couch, an armchair, and a loveseat. A writing desk took up a corner, adorned with ink and paper. The fresh scent of flowers filled the room and a fire glowed in the hearth. A door by the hearth led to the bedroom, a large bed with a canopy waiting with rich fabrics. The other side of the hearth lit the bedroom. Two other doors were in the bedroom, one leading to a closet, the other led to the bathroom. A large claw foot tub that included a shower could be found there.

Gren's eyes opened a bit. He knew she said it would be a suite, but he hadn't expected anything that fancy. He tried not to feel overwhelmed, and walked past the hearth into the bedroom, depositing his backpack and his cloak in the closet. He then went back out into the sitting room. He sat down in the loveseat, and stared into the fire. A hearth always calmed him for some reason. He pictured Izira running through the forest to the portal, her hair flowing in the breeze, and he smiled gently.

True to her word, Izira followed shortly after. A tray in her hands carried a couple of forks, napkins, and two plates, each with a slice of the apple crumb pie. One slice, Gren's, larger. She added a scoop of honey ice cream beside each slice. A bottle of Broot had been included for Gren and Izira's Dragon's Breath wine turned in its hypnotic way in a wine glass. "What do you think?" She bent at the knees to set the tray on the coffee table before Gren and settled into a spot besides him on the loveseat.

Gren hadn't taken his eyes off her ever since she walked into the room. "I think you're beautiful." He paused. "Oh, the *pie*? I'm sorry!" He gave her a teasing smile, before taking his plate of pie and ice cream. "This room is beautiful too. Didn't realize these suites were even here."

"I was asking of your impression of the room." She picked up her own plate, crossing her legs with a lean toward Gren. The smile was in appreciation of his compliment.

"I have so much to appreciate, it was hard for me to know exactly what you meant." He took a bit of the pie and ice cream, smiling while chewing. "I always liked crumb pies." He gazed at the hearth again, trying not to be too mesmerized. The warmth of the fire, the delicious pie, the closeness of Izira, it filled him with warmth and contentment that he had missed in the long week she'd been gone.

A soft smile, she ate her pie and ice cream, taking sips from her wine.

"So did you get any visitors this week? Did the couple that eloped come back?"

She shook her head. "You are my only constant visitor."

"I can't tell whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. Honestly, if I could be selfish for a moment, I think it's a good thing."

"I would not hold that sort of selfishness against you."

"You shouldn't. I'm just trying to be romantic. Trying the key word, there." He was still smiling slightly.

"I think you are more than trying." She looked to Gren from over her wine glass as she took a sip.

"So you think I'm succeeding?"

"Would you be here if you were not?"

"I imagine not." He was aiming to take his time with the pie and ice cream, but he found it disappearing off his plate quickly. He washed it down with some of the Broot. He stared off into the fire. He wanted to say something important to her, something to let her know how much he enjoyed the moments they'd shared that day. Since the day he saw her again all those weeks ago, really.

"Then you must be succeeding." She grinned, her small bit of pie and ice cream gone. She leaned her side against the back of the loveseat. Her wine glass in one hand, the other reached out to brush against Gren's shoulder.

"My secret tactic of Baby Steps worked after all." He put his plate down on the tray as well, holding his Broot in his right hand. He reached his left hand up to hers, resting on his shoulder, and gently massaged it with his fingers.

A soft chuckle, she sipped her wine again.

"Did Jeremiah say anything to you while you were getting the pie ready?"

"Only hello." She drained the glass of wine and set it on the table, her eyes brightening for a moment as she swallowed. "I did not ask him of Pascal."

"Well, I'm just glad to see he's back around. I was getting worried there for a while."

"If there was true trouble, the realm would reflect it."

"Like blue sparkly lights?" He chuckled softly. "I was thinking . . . if we see Noira on Thursday, maybe I could ask the staff about that."

"Like the forest dying... I do not think the blue light is anything to worry about, but you may ask if you wish." The wine left the scent of cinnamon on her breath and an unnameable heat.

He blinked a bit. "Oh. I didn't realize that. I thought he was just a Guardian. There's still a lot I need to learn about this place."

"What would you like to know?"

"How did the Inn get to be here in the first place?"

Izira looked down, "I... do not know."

"Doesn't Jeremiah know? Or maybe the sisters?"

"Jeremiah, no. The sisters? They cannot talk as Jeremiah can. Their stories are lost to us."

"What happened to the sisters? You haven't talked too much about them."

"I only know what Jeremiah has told me of them. That they came here before him, they kept the inn, and when they died... they became the ravens. Only parts of words left to them, enough to tell that to Jeremiah."

He glanced at her while she told the story, still holding her hand on his shoulder. "How did you end up here?"

"Stumbled in, in a state of madness. When I woke... came to myself... I was here."

"How were you bonded to this realm? You said you were tied here to life and death now."

"When I arrived, everything was in a state of... death? chaos? It was not the place you see today. The realm... it bonded with me, my life helps it continue, helps it thrive." She looked to their touching hands, "I am doubly bonded now that Jeremiah has taken on the bond of my people to keep my power in check."

"Why did it need *your* energy? Wasn't Jeremiah's or the sisters enough?"

"It needs a living bond... they... are not truly alive."

Gren looked into the fire for a long moment. "How does Jeremiah know what he does about this realm then? If there was no one to tell him?"

"Experience over the years? Perhaps he is just guessing. He was once as human as you."

"Well. I can understand why you're upset." He didn't want to say more. He pictured Izira trapped as an animal for eternity. He hoped that wouldn't be the fate that befell her. "But maybe things will be different with you."

"If not... I will accept what I have in the present."

"You should. You have a lot of life in you . . . What you do here for people . . . You have such a big heart. I don't want to see you lose that."

"I do not know that my heart is as big as you think it to be." Her fingers brushed down his arm.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself. The more I'm with you, the more I see just how amazing you are." He set his Broot down, slowly tried to turn to his side, like she is on the couch. His hand found her cheek, his caress moved past it and into her hair.

She had little to say to his kind words, feeling the caress of his fingers flow back into her hair. "... I should let you rest...?

"Alright. Thank you for the dinner, and for the room . . . and for the company." With his hand in her hair, he leaned forward and places a kiss on her lips, slowly nudging his way closer to her on the couch.

The heat and cinnamon from her drink is still strong on her lips, no trace of alcohol. She leaned into the kiss, her hand holding him close.

The taste of her lips fills him with a longing for more, as he took her lower lip between his, and brushed his tongue against it. He let go of the hand she had rested on his shoulder, and laid it on her knee.

Izira moved closer at the touch, not breaking the kiss as she had before. Instead she gave in, parting her lips to his, tasting him in return.

He kept his lips parted as well. Gently placing his tongue between her lips, he sought out hers, and lightly touched it. His grip on her knee got tighter. He stroked the back of her head, letting her hair slide through his fingers.

The kiss continued and Izira ended up in Gren's lap, short breaths taken between the exploring press of lips.

His whole body was flushed, as he felt her soft warmth in his lap. His tongue started moving faster, grazing up and down hers. His hand moved from her knee to her thigh, and he used his other arm to wrap around her shoulders, keeping her tight and close.

Heart racing, Izira pulled back, her eyes a soft glow of amber. She moved her head to rest against his shoulder, "I should go."

His voice is an almost strangled whisper, and he kissed her between words. "You should" Kiss. "It's . . ." Kiss. "It's driving me crazy." Kiss. "Please" Kiss. "You should go." He held the last one for a moment.

With effort Izira got up, a short glance to the dishes. "I will... collect those tomorrow." She stepped back, giving them space. "See you in the morning."

He swallowed hard, and tried not to look at her, running his fingers through his hair. He took audible deep breaths. "Good night. See you in the morning." He rose from the couch and walked quickly into the bedroom, closing the door behind him, not waiting to see if she left or not.

She left, the door of the suite closing behind her. She made her way downstairs and to her room.

Hurriedly he ripped off his shirt, and didn't stop until he was in the bathroom. He turned the water in the sink on and splashed his face with the cold water. It is then that he noticed the bathtub and shower. He frantically pulled his boots off, then his pants, and stepped inside, pulling the curtain shut. He turned the shower on and rubbed at his face, not bothering with soap. He stood there for a long time, trying not to think of how soft her lips were, how warm she felt in his lap. After a time, he shut the water off, having calmed down. He climbed out of the tub, found a towel, and slowly dried himself off, absently staring at the bathroom floor. He found his lucky boxers and put them on, then made his way over to the bed. Climbing between the sheets, he laid on his back, looking up at the ceiling, clasping his hands behind his head on the pillow. I never thought I'd say it, but I don't know how much longer I can wait. Not anger or frustration, but longing. So close to what he'd waited for. He gently shut his eyes and imagined Izira's smooth lips, before he drifted off into sleep.

He took the basket in one hand, and took her hand in his other. "I'm sure they would. They could always use a good meal." He walked with her down the path towards the portal. "I hope they're okay. It must be two, maybe three years since I saw them last."

"Surely you would have heard if something had happened to them?"

"Yeah, I guess I would." He brightened a bit. "I was just worried. Like I said, it's been a while. I hope we don't interrupt their classes."

"You worry too much." A gentle brush from her hand and they moved through the portal and Gren's presence brings that shine of blue.

He chuckled lightly. "Sometimes I do. It'll be nice to see them again."

"That is more like it." She smiled to him, then fell quiet again.

He glanced at her curiously. "Why did you want to see them? I'm just wondering."

"Them? Oh... no. I wanted to see the woods."

He squinted his eyes, not understanding. "If you wanted to see the woods, why didn't you just say you wanted to walk in the woods?"

"I said I wanted to see the place they found you. I am curious to see it for myself."

"Oh, I see. Well, you'll get your chance." He glanced around the forest they were walking through, that was mostly pine trees. The ground was becoming littered with needles as the colder weather approached. "I'm glad you're getting to meet my friends and acquaintances. It makes things feel more . . . official."

"Without... other things happening?" She lightly glanced to him, curiosity in her tone.

"Well . . . 'other things' don't need to happen for us to be . . . boyfriend and girlfriend . . . do they?" He returned her curious look.

"I have had them happen without those.... titles... in place." Vice versa, it could be the other way around.

"That's not what I meant." He gave a semi-look heavenward. "What I meant is, we're both committed to each other, right? I mean, I know I am to you."

"I am."

"Right. So if we're committed to each other, than would imply a . . . deeper sort of friendship. I mean. I'm not just "seeing" you, I'm . . . committed to you. You know."

She smiled to him, "A deeper sort of friendship, then." There was no comment on the wording of having relations.

"Well . . . ", he continued, "A deeper sort of friendship would have romantic implications. I mean, if you're committed to me, that means you don't want to have any romantic involvement with anyone else." Pause. "Do you?"

"Not... recently."

"What do you mean, "recently"?" His face fell.

"When... I was alone with Errand in my quarters. He... was very close to me. I do not know if he had a true interest in... having relations... or if it was his way of entertaining himself. I did not... exactly... want him... but... I wanted... sex." Izira was a sexual being, her eyes moved to Gren. "This was before the play."

Gren got a bewildered, bug-eyed look on his face. "Yeah, I remember Errand. The vampire. Owl enthusiast. That guy." His eyes slowly narrowed. "Wait a minute . . . really? Okay, look. Be honest. When he leaned in on you, what was your first reaction?"

Her heart raced, she looked away. "I wished he was you."

Gren's heart melted when she says that. He was going to make a different point, but didn't expect to hear that answer. He impulsively squeezed her hand. "I . . . I'm glad you said that. The part about wishing it was me. You did the right thing, Izira. He didn't mean anything to you. But even then, you knew I meant something. When we are . . . together, you'll be glad you made the choice you did."

"He would not have been the first that did not mean something to me..." Her eyes remained looking away. "It... is not always bad that way... sometimes."

"Sometimes. But when you have feelings for someone else, and you're not being true to yourself, it can be. That's why you didn't. You were locked away for five years, remember? What stopped you? If it wasn't . . . you wishing it was me." She didn't know how happy that made him to say that to her.

"He... did not push it any further than leaning closely." In truth, she didn't stop herself... she just hadn't made any moves.

"You could have pushed it. What, where you waiting on *him* to make all the moves? You don't seem like the shy type."

"I told myself... I told him... I did not wish to be intimate with anyone."

"You wanted sex, but you didn't wish to be intimate with anyone. Alright, I must admit to being confused."

"You have never said one thing while feeling another?"

He shrugs slightly. "Okay, I'll give you that." He walked on in silence for a few moments. He should be upset about Errand, but he can't help but have a goofy grin on his face over Izira's admission about him. "When did you know? I mean, when you said you wished it was me, that meant you had feelings for me, even then. When did you know you felt that way about me?"

"You do not think it was simply because I prefer your looks to his?" She glanced over to Gren. "I cannot say when I knew I felt something for you. I tried to deny it. You did not make that easy."

Gren held her gaze when she spoke. There was a twinkle in his eye that said he didn't believe her reason that she preferred his looks to Errand's. He didn't believe she didn't know when it happened. "Of course I didn't make it easy. Because I had feelings for you. Although it was hard as heck to show them, or get you to acknowledge them." He still had that little, goofy grin on his face. "Do you want to know when *I* knew? I had feelings for you, that is."

Looking back to him, quiet for a moment, before she curiously ventured, "When?"

Towering cedars had replaced the pine trees, and the whole area seemed strangely quiet. No birds could be heard chirping, or leaves rustling in the wind. The path they walked on turned onto a well maintained road, made of flat, white stones. "The Academy should be just up ahead." Gren's voice got a bit quiet as he stared at the road, as if he was remembering something, or trying to at least.

A light squeeze to Gren's hand. Izira seemed to sense the draw of silence and did not venture to break it with her own words.

The white, stone road soon opened into a flat, grassy meadow. Dogwood trees lined both sides, although their leaves were beginning to fill the ground. Up ahead on the right, there was a long, brick wall painted white, than represented the boundary of the Academy. There was a black, iron gate in which a fat, bald man wearing a red robe with gold trim stood. He was speaking to what looked like a family, a father, mother, and a young boy, who was wearing an identical looking red robe. ?. . . enjoy your vacation, young one. Abide in Light." The fat man clasped his hands to his chest, as if he was praying, and bowed slightly. The young boy mimicked the movements, before the family turned and walked up the road in the opposite direction that Gren and Izira were. The man in the robe watched them move off into the distance for a while, before he slowly turned, as if sensing Gren and Izira's presence. His eyes were milky white, and had no pupils. He broke into a pleased, serene smile as they approached him. "Gren. It is so good to see you again, after all these years."

Gren smiled sheepishly. "It's good to see you too, Arillon." Gren went to shake the man's hand, and Arillon grasped it with both of his. "This is Izira Nyte, my . . . girlfriend." Gren seemed pleased to say it. The hesitation was not embarrassment, more like he was trying it out for the first time. "She runs the Forgotten Layers Inn."

Arillon turned to Izira. "It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, young lady." He lifted out his hand to welcome her.

She smiled at Gren introducing her as his girlfriend. The smile growing more as he also introduced her as the keeper of an inn. Like Gren, Izira took the offered hand in both of hers. "I am pleased to meet you, Arillon."

Arillon shook her hands firmly. "I am glad to see you with someone, Gren. I still worry about you. Were you just passing through? Or did you want to show Miss Izira our Academy?"

"We could stop in for a while, if you don't mind?, Gren replied.

"Oh, not at all! Come right this way, and welcome to White Cedar Academy." He led them through the black gate, and down a path of white bricks that passed through more flowering dogwoods. There was a large stone building at the end of the path, with blue banners that had a white cedar tree in the center, flying from the roof.

Returning her hand to Gren's hold, she followed Arillon as he led them. Amber-brown eyes took in the path, trees, and the blue banners. Her eyes fell to Gren's face and she smiled.

Gren held Izira's hand and smiled back, as Arillon continued down the path and up to the building. "I, and my assistant Shann, came here two decades ago, looking for a place to build an academy to train neophytes in the ways of the magical arts. We got the name from the white cedar trees that grow in this part of the forest. So far it's been peaceful, and profitable. We conduct several kinds of research from botany to alchemy here." He led them up the steps of the building, holding the door for them as they walked inside. There was a long hallway with a black and white checkerboard floor, and many doors that opened to classrooms. Small children to teenagers, dressed in the red and gold robes, could be seen walking up and down, holding books, or magical potions. "We are not as grand an operation as Arcanum Academy, in the City, but we like the privacy and solitude here." Just then, a little girl with red pigtails and two devil horns ran around a corner, crying loudly.
Arillon asked, "Vanessa, whatever is the matter?"

"Master Arillon! Billy gave me huh-huh-huh-hooooooorns!!!"

"Oh, he did, did he? Well I shall have to have a talk with Billy then. Hold still, child." Arillon held his hand over Vanessa's head, who was still sobbing, her shoulders shaking up and down. A golden glow passed from Arillon's hand, and surrounded her head. When the light dissipated, the horns were gone. "Now you run along to class! I will tend to Billy later."

"Thanks, Master Arillon!" Vanessa smiled with glee, then disappeared into a door.

"Children." Arillon turned and gave Gren a small, knowing smile.

"Alright." He led Izira up the stone road and into the white cedars. "This is the first thing I can remember. Walking down this road, headed towards the academy. I don't know how I got here, or where I came from." He stood still, and glanced into the forest, with a blank look.

"You *are* a ranger, pick a path."

"I tried that. I went all over these woods. So did Arillon and Shann, casting spells. They used Psychomancy on the trees, but they couldn't find anything. There isn't a village for three miles up that road. They said I would have never made it three miles with the injuries I sustained." He glanced up a tiny trail, that meandered north through the trees. "That's the only path I know of. We can go up there, if you'd like."

"Do you think you could have come through a portal? Like the one that leads to my realm?" Her eyes looked to the woods.

"That would actually make the most sense. It would explain why I just appeared out of nowhere, and why no one ever heard of me before."

"Curious." Looking over Gren, she pondered the thought. She gave in to the idea of taking the path, though she thought there would be little hope in finding the way Gren had found himself there years before. The picnic would be enough. Leading Gren toward the trail he pointed out, her fingers entwined with his.

Gren stayed quiet as he weaved up the path through the cedars. He glanced around as if trying to remember something, but nothing struck him. The path was grassy, and didn't look well travelled. It curled to the top of a hill, and opened onto a tiny clearing, containing a large rock. "This is as far as it goes." He gave Izira a small, apologetic shrug.

"Unless you feel a draw to go any further, this will be as far as we go as well." She smiled, kissing his cheek and taking the picnic basket from him. The cloth that covered the top was a blanket she could fold out. The basket was set by the large rock and Izira spread out the blanket for them to sit on.

"Naw, this is fine. Sorry I couldn't show you anything more." He sat down on the blanket, glancing around. "Hey, were you alright back there when we were in the Academy? You looked a little nervous."

"It... reminded me of a place... from my childhood. I... have not been around that many children since I was one." Unpacking sandwiches and grapes, she left the dessert in the basket. Inspecting the sandwiches, she held one out to Gren. "There is no mayonnaise on this one."

"Thanks." He took the sandwich, watching her curiously. "Sounds like you have bad memories of that place."

"I do not have the best memories of my time at Mistress Chloe's Home for Wayward Children." Izira sat on the blanket with her legs curled under her. A sandwich selected for herself, she looked down at it as she unwrapped it. "Mistress Chloe is who sold me... to... Him."

Gren remembered her telling him about how she was orphaned. He had just never heard where she went after the death of her parents. "I remember you called him your Master." He paused, looking at his sandwich, then back at her. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I know it upsets you."

"I never knew any other name for him." She took a bite of her sandwich. She wasn't sure if she wanted to share and Gren did not push her to it. The sandwich set down, she pulled out a Broot for Gren. The bottle grew icy cold at her touch as she opened it and handed it off to him.

He watched her sympathetically, then took the bottle from her, still marveling at how she did that. "The bottle, do you . . . suck the heat out of it?"

Her lashes fluttered and she looked to the bottle a Gren. "Fire is not the only element I can control, it is... just the one I have more experience with. It was the element of my birth."

"Oh, I see. I was kind of wondering how you could get it so cold. All the other magical things I've seen you do related to fire." He took a long drink of the Broot. "What other elements can you control?"

"Water... ice." A soft smile that wavers, "I do not know if it is due to my time with Him or perhaps the few moments of helping Locke with his own gift.... when I broke my bond with Alain I released both elements."

"That sounds strange . . . pardon for me saying so. I would think that it would be hard to control two elements that are supposed to be the polar opposite of each other."

"Locke and I... we worked together to make ice sculptures infused with fire." She smiled at the better memory, recalling the day that they played in the fountain.

"Locke . . . I don't think you ever told me about him. Who was Locke?"

"He was a friend I met in RhyDin... he tended the inn some nights. Locke was an ice elf, blue skinned and cold to the touch. But his heart was not cold."

"He sounds vaguely familiar. I might have dueled him once. Or seen him around the Arena. It's been years though. I was on a team once, about two years ago, with an Ice Mage named Wyheree. Haven't seen her in a long time, either."

"I do not know that name?, she said as she tried to recall anything about Locke dueling. He did seem to have been a scrapper, she would not have thought it beyond him. "Locke D'Vestavio."

"Yeah, I think he was a dueler. I saw his name before. Can't remember ever having a conversation with him, though."

"I fear our jovial conversations always delved toward deeper topics." She lightly chuckled.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" He chuckled, then gives her a soft look. He misunderstood and thought she was talking about him. "It's because I feel I can trust you. That you will understand, somehow. Also, I want you to know about me. As much as I can tell you, I mean. I'm trying to be more open . . . not hold things back like I usually do."

Izira's cheeks color slightly as Gren misunderstood her, ?I... meant my conversations with Locke. Though, truth is he did, with kindness, blame me for it." She smiled to Gren, "It must be a habit of mine."

"Oh." He turns a bit red himself. He tries not to look embarrassed, and looked down at his bottle of Broot. "What kind of . . . deeper topics did you talk about?"

"Relationships, we were... both not exactly fully... happy with our situations at the time."

"Ah, I see. He was someone you could confide in."

"He was a friend.... one... I was not kind to before my leaving."

"I find it hard to believe you'd be unkind to someone. What happened?"

"I broke the bond with Alain... I let the power consume me and leave me numb. I did not care for anyone or anything... I did not want to care ever again."

" . . . and you took it out on Locke. Or some of it, anyway?"

"He and Eva wanted me to return to the inn... wanted me to talk about what had happened to Alain... I wanted to be left alone." And, she did get her wish, didn't she? "I was... cold and hard towards them."

He gave her a sympathetic look. "Maybe they understood. Or maybe they got over it after a time. People go through bad times, and sometimes they need their privacy."

"Until I speak to them again... I cannot know."

"Now I see why you wanted to talk to Eva so badly. I'm sure you wanted her to know . . . why you wanted to be left alone."

"I... was not myself then."

"You are now, though. Maybe you can explain things when you see her next." He sounded hopeful.

"Perhaps." She took a bite of her neglected sandwich.

(later . . . )



Gren lay on his back on the blanket, staring up at the afternoon sky. The clouds drifted by and the lazy wind were lulling him to sleep. He looked down at Izira, naked, with her nose nuzzled under his chin. His hand slowly caressed her shoulder. "It was worth the wait." He said quietly. "For me. I hope it was for you too." Although he meant the years she spent in isolation, in her case.

"Yes." She smiled, turning her amber-brown eyes up to him and kissing him again. Her hand stroked over his torso.

He chuckled lightly, after their lips parted. "This is . . . like a dream. A pleasant, wonderful dream."

"Do you have many dreams like this?"

"Well, I . . . !" His eyes went a bit wide, and he tried not to blush, but did so anyway. "Dreams can be a . . . . private matter. Plus, your brain can just . . . conjure up anything sometimes. I don't have control over such things." He finished with a nervous gulp.

She smiled knowingly, "Of... me?"

"Well, yeah . . . I had dreams . . . of you. In a similar situation." He gulped again. "But in my defense, we were kind of . . . seeing each other. You know."

"I hope the reality is better than the dream."

"Oh, absolutely. I don't care for my dreams much anyway. Other than the ones with you, that is."

She frowned slightly, "What are your other dreams?"

He got a distant, slightly upset look on his face. "I have . . . nightmares. A lot. It's . . . almost like it's from another life . . . " His eyes squinted, as if he's trying to recall a painful memory.

The look of concern remained in her features, "They are always the same?"

Gren shut his eyes and tried to picture them in his mind. "Yeah, pretty much the same. I'm in a forest . . . but I've never seen these kinds of trees before. It's not pines or oaks like here. There are dead people laying everywhere, and the forest is on fire. There is a droning, buzzing sound. I try to run from the flames and the smoke. Then the ground around me starts to explode. I fall down and everything explodes around me, then I wake up." He gulped and steadied himself with a breath.

Izira swallowed, not sure what to say. She did not think her words would be comforting. And how could he have not had the same thought that has come into her mind? There is no need to voice it. She stroked a hand through his hair and kissed him.

He lightly rubbed his fingers up and down her forearm. "Maybe . . . it's what happened to me . . . before Arillon and Shann found me."

"Maybe... what were the trees like?" She hoped the presence of her body against him is enough of a shelter to the thoughts she's probing into.

"They were very tall, with long leaves, it didn't look like it had branches. It was stifling hot, too. There was underbrush everywhere."

Izira thought. "It... seems familiar... but I cannot place it", she said with an apologetic look to Gren.

"That's alright. I've been trying to figure it out myself. I tried to look in some books, but like I said, none of those trees are found around here. Maybe the Library in the City would have it, but I kind of gave up looking a few years back."

"Why did you give up?"

"It started to get painful. The failures. The frustration. I just . . . tried not to think about it. I mean, I always hoped my memory would come back, but it seemed like every time I hit a dead end, it would get me more and more depressed. So I tried to avoid the situation, just for my own state of mind."

"There is no need to let downfalls stop you now. I will be by you."

"I know you will. I know." He grasped her fingers in his. "Being with you has given me a hope I haven't felt in some time. Maybe I could check out the Library. See what they have."

"You may also look through mine."

"That might help. Do you have any books on trees?"

"I believe I do. Likely from the same source as the pressed flowers..."

"I'll have to take a look at it then. Hopefully I'll find something useful."

"I am sure you will find something useful..." Playfulness entered into her smile.

He looked down at her, the little smile filling him with amusement. "What are you smiling at?"

"I was merely thinking that... there is little need for you to take up your own room at the inn... now that we have had.... relations."

"You have a good point. I mean . . . having relations . . . we're close now. In an intimate sort of way. I would like to . . . be closer to you. Now. You know."

"Now?" She smiled.

"I meant . . . now, in the relationship." He glanced down to them, lying naked in each other's arms.

"Oh.." A flutter of her lashes, "I thought you meant you wanted to be closer physically."

"It's kind of harder to be closer that way, then we are right now. Unless . . . " He gave her a look with one eyebrow raised. " . . . you've rested a bit. Because, you know, I . . . uh . . . wouldn't mind getting closer with you again."

"To have... relations?" She softly chuckled before her lips met his again.

"Relations? I was talking about sex!" He gave her a bewildered look, then grinned widely, before returning her kiss, and drawing her on top of him again.

Monday, November 11, 2013




The idea of spending the night at the bed and breakfast turned into staying another day. Then they went back to the Inn, where they spent most of the weekend together.

Early on Monday, Gren got dressed and washed quicker than usual. He completed his patrols, and ran his errands, so that he could go to the Inn and be with Izira. Thankfully, all was quiet in his sector of the forest that day, so after noon he was able to make the trek to the portal. He strode up the path and to the door, pushing his hood back and glancing around to see if Izira was in the main room of the Inn.

Izira moved behind the bar, picking up a kettle and filling a patron's cup with more hot water. She gave a smile to Gren when he walked through the door. Her dress was made of a soft white torso and deep blue skirt, divided by a thick silk pink line at the waist. She wore Gren's locket and soft rose peep-toe heels.

The young man looked over his shoulder toward the door, eyeing the man without a smile on his features. He wore a white, long-sleeved shirt of another time with dark brown pants of deer hide. Black boots went along with the loosened vest he wore. His skin a tanned reddish shade, curly black hair fell into orange colored eyes.

Izira moved, picking up a bottle of Broot and opening it for Gren after the tea had been poured.

Gren smiled gently as he saw Izira, he made his way over to the bar and sat down, but restrained himself from a more romantic greeting, since she had a guest. "Hello. Thank you." He sat down, and took a drink from the bottle, then glanced at the man, and gave him a nod and a smile. "Good day, sir."

In serving Gren's drink she touched his hand lightly and lovingly.

The man kept his attention on the cup before him, helping the tea seep into the fresh water. His only acknowledgement to Gren's greeting is a bob of his head.

"Have you come to borrow that book, Gren?" Izira prompted with a glance to the hallway that led back to the inn.

Gren gave Izira a long stare, as if glad to be able to see her again, and lightly stroked her fingers. "Yes, I wouldn't mind taking a look at it." He glanced at the man, only briefly, it seemed to him he wasn't in the mood for conversation, so he let him be.

Izira nodded and moved out from the bar, touching the table close to the man and drawing his orange eyes to her face. "I will return shortly." He smiled, almost sadly and nodded. The smile left when he looked to Gren as Izira turned her back and started down the hall.

Gren couldn't help but notice the man's orange eyes at that point. Curiosity overcame him as the man acknowledged his presence with the stare, so he tried to converse with him again. "So how did you find this place? The Inn can be hard to bump into, sometimes."

As Izira vanished from view into the hallway, the man turned his back on Gren. Picking up his tea and taking a drink.

"Gren?" Izira called down the hallway. "Could you help me find the book?"

Gren blinked rapidly as the man turned his back on him. Izira's voice broke him out of his bewilderment, and he rose from the stool and walked down the hall to find her.

Out of the view of her patron, Izira kissed Gren. She spoke in a hushed voice as she placed her hand in his and brought him toward her quarters. "I missed you."

He returned her kiss warmly while he clasped her hand in his. "I missed you too." He followed her into her quarters. "So what's the story with that guy? He doesn't seem to have much to say."

"I think he is deaf and mute... " She glanced back before she closed the door from one hallway to the other. "He ordered tea with gestures."

"That's odd. I wonder how he even found his way here, then. I don't think I've ever seen a man with orange eyes before, either."

"He likely found his way as many others have... by losing their way. Though, I cannot think of any other I have seen with eyes like him." Leading the way into her room, she let his hand go so that she could look at the books.

Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders, as she searched for the book in question. "How've you been, other than your new customer?" He glanced up at the books as she did, still curious as to what subjects they all dealt with.

"I have been recovering." A sly smile over her shoulder as she looked back to him and then back to the books, picking down one and then another. "I have been... more active... than I have been in quite some time lately." A soft chuckle, she turned and handed him the two volumes that were about plants and trees.

He took the books from her, while placing a kiss in her hair. "Well, I'm glad I could give you some . . . . stimulation. Sitting around the Inn all day isn't healthy, you need a good workout sometimes." He was giving her a playful smile, to let her know he was joking about the "sitting around" part.

"Sometimes, yes." She looked to the books she'd handed him. "Those are some of the books I spoke with you of.... it... slipped my mind to give them to you before."

"We were busy with other topics, I know." He gave her a little waggle of his brows, then he glanced at the door. "Maybe I could look at them at the bar. So you can keep an eye on your guest, hmm?"

"That is a good idea." She nodded, turned and led the way back out to the main room. But the man was no longer at the bar or in view. His tea cup was empty. Izira stood at the end of the hallway looking around with a creased brow of concern.

Izira had heard enough from Gren to be concerned with the developments that Westerguard shared, but she stayed quiet. As the man strode out, she moved closer and touched Gren's hand. An unvoiced question, a need for reassurance.

Gren managed a pained smile for Izira, but he was troubled, and it showed. "That's bad news. The goblins and orcs haven't formed an alliance in years. It took all the manpower we had to stop them the last time. God, I hope they're just messing around with us." Haddon chuckled. "You're not worried, are you Gren? Westerguard's just jumpy. Those idiots up there can't get along for more than a few hours, let alone the weeks it would take them to mobilize and actually do something. This will all blow over soon, and we'll be back to eating, drinking, and makin' merry!" He lifted his tankard up and took another long swig, but his words didn't seem to ease Gren's fears.

Izira risked allowing Haddon's words to soothe her and she smiled to him in thanks. Coming around the bar once more to sit by Gren, she brushed the hair from his brow. "It will all work out as it should. You are always telling me this."

"I know. I hope you're right." He lightly touched Izira's cheek, and tried to put is mind at ease. "Where's Moriana?" he asked Haddon.

"Oh, she's out on patrol. Westerguard sent her way up there in the mountains to see if she can spy out any troop movements. She probably won't be back for a while. She'll be alright, though. Not like she hasn't done this kind of thing before." Gren took a drink of his Broot. Haddon finished off his ale and grinned at him. "One other thing, just to let you know. "F" Troop? Abraham's old company? It's up for grabs. Word is Perrigan put your name out there to be the new Captain."

Gren got a bug-eyed, surprised look. "Me?"

"What would that mean?" She looked from one man to the other.

Gren looked down at the floor, then back into Izira's eyes. "I . . . would be the Captain of an infantry company. Which means I would have to lead some of the Rangers into battle."

Whatever comfort Haddon's words had offered Gren's explanation took away. She tried to smile for him, but her concern shone through.

Gren put his hand on Izira's shoulder, then looked back at Haddon. "Why did Perrigan suggest *me*? Why isn't Rhett up for that?"

"How should I know, Gren? They don't tell me what they're thinking. Personally, I think Rhett's pissed off Perrigan for the last time. He doesn't trust him any more. So that kind of narrows the list down. You really think they want *me* leading a company? Moriana? Grace? HAW! Not likely. You'd better hope Westerguard can convince Perrigan to go with Rhett on this."

Gren rubbed his forehead again. "God, this is all I need."

She placed her hand over Gren's and smiled softly for him. Listening to the exchange, she tried not to shudder at the mention of Rhett's name. Leaning toward Gren and lowering her voice, "Do you... want to go speak with Perrigan?"

"That might be a good idea." Gren still looked concerned, and glanced back at Haddon. Haddon chuckled and nodded. "Wouldn't hurt, buddy. I?ll get going here so you can make up your mind. Thanks for the ale, Little Missy! Always a pleasure. Hah!" Haddon stands from his stool and makes his way over to the peg near the door, where he grabs his cloak and throws it back on. He gives Gren a cocky little salute. "As you were, Captain Gren. HAW!"

Gren grimaces. "Yeah, thanks, Haddon."

"Safe journey to you Haddon."

Gren scratched his beard, then looked at Izira. "If you don't have anything going on, would you want to come to see Perrigan with me?"

"My only visitor seems to have vanished." Her way of saying she would come with him.

"Great. At least I'll be able to enjoy the walk, now." He gave Izira another forced smile.

She leaned forward, kissing him lightly for some encouragement. Standing, she moved behind the bar again to quickly tidy up after Haddon and then moved back around to join Gren.

Gren put his hand in the small of her back as they walked to the door, which he opened for her. "Geez, I know we've been hurting for leaders lately, but I don't know how *my* name came up in all this. Perrigan acted like he was going out of his way just to give me the Recon team, and that's only two other men."

"You have proven your worth." She smiled to Gren as though it was obvious that he would be picked.

"If you're right, this is a case of doing your job *too* well." There isn't any mirth in his joke, as he accompanied her to the portal, then into the familiar forest that he patrolled.

A soft squeeze to his arm, she well understood his feelings in that and she agreed. In her mind she repeated that all would be well as Gren had told her time and time again. "It is never too late to make a second impression?" Her own joke equally delivered.

"I've come up with a problem there. You see, you've made me so happy this last week, that I don't think I can effectively stammer or fumble my way out of this. That's the power of love, I guess." He tightened his arm around her waist, though. Her closeness comforted him as he wrestled with what he was going to say to Perrigan.

"You could set his desk on fire, that may be effective... but I fear a bit too much."

"I think using fire would be you're department. You'll have to help me out with that. But yes, that may be a bit too much. I'll trying begging, pleading, and cajoling first, before I resort to anything physical."

She nodded, trying to find more cheer for the humor but cannot yet uncover it. "Perhaps... after your talk with Perrigan, we can stay the night at your home?"

"I'd love for you to stay with me. It'll be nice to have you there." He gave her another squeeze around the waist. "I just wish it was under happier circumstances."

"It could be... after you speak with Perrigan."

He chuckled. "Yes, it could be. Sorry for being so pessimistic. I'll keep my mind focused on happy thoughts." He took a deep breath, and rapidly blinked his eyes. "I'm finding my 'Happy Place' right now. It's beautiful in there . . . " He trailed off, trying not to smile.

"Beautiful is it?" A soft chuckle, Izira stayed close to Gren as they walk.

"Oh yes. There's lots of green, leafy trees, and a riverbank with a bed of wildflowers. You're there. You're wearing this frilly little apron, and nothing else, and holding a plate of pancakes with blueberry syrup."

She laughed a bit fuller and leaned further against him, kissing his ear. "Let it never be said that you do not have an *appetite*"

"Good thing I'm dating such a good cook. You can fulfill all those needs I have. You do very well, you know." He gave her a little, pointed look, as they continue through the forest.

"Careful my ranger, you might not make it through the woods..." The newness of their physical relationship enough to subdue some of the concern, she smiled to him as they walked.

"I know, what's wrong with me? Just a few days ago I got all flustered when you accidentally touched your foot against my leg under the table. Now I can't keep my hands off you. You don't think any less of me, do you?" He tried to look guilty and ashamed, although the corners of his mouth are twitching as if he's trying to keep from grinning.

"Think less of you? Not at all. I think more of you...and of more of you?, she said with another soft chuckle.

"I think about you all the time." He said in a more serious tone. "I still can't . . . sometimes I can't believe we're together like this. I've enjoyed every moment I've spent with you, especially these last couple of days."

Izira turned to Gren, stopping the walk long enough to kiss him deeply... her thanks for his words that took her words away.

He pulled her to him, returning her kiss as tenderly as he could. His hands moved up her back in a light massage, as her warmth and softness filled him with pleasure.

Easily she could remain this way, but she gently pulled back with a smile and returned to their walk. "Keep that in mind for when we return to your tree."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll forget that too quickly." He got that goofy grin on his face, and took her hand in his again, as they began to make their way to the Headquarters once more. They entered the forest of huge oak trees that they had last week, albeit from a slightly different path, and walked over a bed of fallen leaves of red, orange, and gold colors. "Hopefully Missus Brownhill won't interrupt us this time."

"I wonder how many more young ones she will expect you to have running around *now*"

"Probably a litter. She thinks humans have babies the way hedgehogs do, I suppose." Luckily for Gren, Missus Brownhill didn't show, and they made it to the river, and the wooden bridge, without incident. "You know, it just dawned on me. One of these days, I need to get a horse."

She was silent for longer than she needed to be. "A horse?"

"Yeah. It would be easier on you, so you wouldn't have to walk all this way with me. I'm used to these long hikes, so it doesn't bother me. That is, unless you *like* walking with me." He paused. "I like walking with you."

"I... I like walking with you." She squeezed his hand lightly.

"Good. I'm glad. I was just concerned, is all." The fruit trees appeared, as they neared the wooden wall that marked the beginning of the Ranger's Headquarters. Gren walked up to the gate, swallowing hard, hoping there wouldn't be another incident. He gently cleared his throat. "Uhhh . . . Grace? It's me, Gren. Open the gate . . . . please." He gave Izira a reassuring nod, then peered up at the guardhouse. "Grace? Are you there? It's Gren! Open the gate!"

(Nov 11 tbc . . . )

Perrigan was gazing out the window, facing away from the door. His hands were clasped behind his back, as he stared into the distance, at the far northern mountains. A bit uncharacteristic for him, Gren noted, usually he's reading some parchment or book. Perrigan turned his head, and for a moment, his face betrayed the worry he felt at the news from the north. He quickly covered it with a warm smile. "Hello, Gren. And Izira! So good of you to visit again. Why don't you have a seat?" He pointed to two chairs near the desk. Perrigan sat in his own, leaning back slightly. Gren lowered himself into one of the chairs.

Following the invitation to sit, Izira moved to one chair and smoothed her skirt as she lowered herself into the seat and crossed her legs.

"So what brings you here today, Gren?"

Gren swallowed and glanced at Perrigan, concerned. "Westerguard came to the Inn today, he told me about the orc and goblin alliance."

Perrigan's face fell slightly, more out of concern than surprise. "Yes. He is worried, as he should be. As *I* should be."

"We all know the danger involved, Headmaster. We should all be concerned. But I heard something else that worries me."

"Oh?" Perrigan leaned forward slightly.

"Haddon said . . . he heard you had nominated me to be Captain of "F" Troop."

Perrigan stared at Gren for a long moment. "Haddon hears a lot, doesn't he?"

"I guess so, Sir."

"And has little problem repeating all he hears", Izira noted with a soft smile.

Perrigan gave Izira a gentle smile, before looking back at Gren. "In this case, Haddon is right. Your name is on a short list to take Abraham's place."

Gren sat for an extended pause, letting that sink in. "Why? Why would you choose me for this?"

"Gren . . . I know it's a lot of responsibility. The danger involved is great, as well. But we are short on leaders. No one has stepped up over the last few years and showed that they are capable of leadership roles that are vital to the success of this Guild. You have more than capably led Recon "B" over the last five years, and your talents could be better used elsewhere."

As the reality of the situation sunk in, Izira reached to hold Gren's hand.

Gren couldn't help but hold Izira's hand in return.

Perrigan lowered his gaze slightly, noticing the gesture, before looking back at Gren. "As I said, it is a short list you are on. There is also Burke, Brienne, and Haddon. Rhett is at the top of the list. Westerguard is pulling for Rhett, basically because he is the best Ranger we have. He has just as much experience as you with Recon "A". The decision has not been made. If it were made today, I would choose Rhett, just to please Westerguard."

Izira asked, "What is holding back the decision being made?"

Perrigan took a deep breath, then glanced at Izira. "There was an . . . incident. Between Rhett and . . . a fellow Ranger. We're trying to get to the bottom of it before a decision is made." Perrigan gave Gren a pointed look.

Gren gulped and looks away. "Headmaster . . . I know you have faith in me. But I feel this assignment would be above me. Is there any way that I could convince you to change your mind?"

Perrigan's deep blue eyes gazed at Gren. "I can't say I'm not disappointed, Gren. I've defended you many times, and given you plenty of chances to prove yourself. If the lot should fall to you . . . I will give you the opportunity to turn it down. You have a few days to think about it. That's the best I can do for you, right now."

At the mention of the Rhett's incident, Izira glanced to Gren. No voicing that she wondered if it was Janna. Guilt is expressed in her features as Perrigan voiced his disappointment. She did not know if Gren's hesitancy was entirely his own or due to their relationship. She squeezed his hand again, "You are capable of doing anything put to you. You wooed me, did you not?" She did not want him to be caught up in something dangerous, but she did not want to hold him back of being who he could be.

Gren gave Izira a loving smile. "Perrigan says that I can turn it down, should it fall to me. Let's hope it doesn't fall to me." Gren nodded to Perrigan. "Thank you, Headmaster. I know that was asking a lot. There are others on that list with just as much to lose as I have." Perrigan nodded solemnly. "Maybe we should go." Gren said to Izira.

"Yes." Standing, she offered a soft apologetic smile to Perrigan. Turning and moving for the door, she hoped that Rhett would not still be beyond it.

"Good night, Gren. Good night, Izira." Perrigan offered as they move to the door and exit. Gren nodded and smiled to Perrigan as they exited his office, shutting the door behind them. Rhett is still there, with his suggestive smirk and crossed arms. His eyes took up their undressing of Izira again as they walked past. "You're gonna have to bring her around more often, 'Dreamboat'. I'm getting tired of looking at the same ol' women every day."

"Mind your own business, Rhett." Gren gave him a momentary glare, before opening the foyer door for Izira, escorting her out of the building.

Once the door is closed behind them Izira turned to Gren, "Gren... you have to tell me, were it not for me, would you take that assignment if they offered it to you?"

Gren glanced off down the street, as if trying to imagine that scenario. "I honestly don't know. I never thought about it. I would take it, if I felt they needed me. But not because I wanted it. I like doing Recon work. I like doing my patrols. I don't know if I could handle being in the infantry like that. I was forced into it a few times, and I didn't like it."

"If they offered it to you.... it would mean they needed you."

"By 'needed', I meant, if there were no one else that could fill the position. They have Rhett, Haddon, Burke, and Brienne. One of them could take it, and probably do better than I could."

"If they could do it better they would be the one chosen."

Gren smiled slightly, and lowered his head, looking at the path in front of Perrigan's building. "Before I met you, I don't think I would have had the confidence to accept. I should have accepted, because I had nothing to lose, but I would have beaten myself up over whether I could have handled all the responsibilities. Now that I have you in my life, I think I could handle those duties. Better than I would have, at least. But I don't want to put myself in danger now. It's a strange situation."

Izira leaned against him, sliding her arms around him and hugging him. She assured herself of his presence before she swallowed, "I do not want you in harm's way.... but you are a ranger..." Looking up to Gren, her eyes slightly watered, "I do not want to be the one holding you back from success, Gren. Perhaps they will offer the position to Rhett... but if it is you.... do what you feel is right and not just right for me."

Gren nodded silently. Instinctively his hand went up to caress her cheek. "I will do what I must do. Let's just go home, alright?" He kissed her forehead and held her there for a minute, before leading them back up the path to the gate.

"Okay." She walked away with him.

Gren kept his arm around her shoulder as he walked with her past the barracks. His mind tried to process his conversation with Perrigan, and he wondered whether he would get the call or not. He stayed as quiet as he could until he got Izira back to his treehouse.