Godric

Bittersweet: Last We Spoke

Forochel16.jpg

Godhric stood, silently staring out into the ice bay of Forochel, near the outskirts of Suri-Kyla, with his hands clasped together behind his back. The only sounds came from the now calm, morning winds and crashes of gentle waves on the cold shore.

Having left the village behind, Eruviel quietly approached the towering man, her own hands held behind her back as she walked over the thin layer of fresh snow. “You would think it might be easier to find a person in such a relatively small area.”

Godhric turned his head to glance upon Eruviel as she approached him. His eyes studied her for a moment before returning quietly to the sea again. “It is a beautiful place, is it not?”

“Breathtaking,” Eruviel replied, nodding slowly in agreement. “I do not think I would ever tire of winter if I lived here.”

“Nor would I. The air is more forgiving, now that the Northwind is calmed.”

Eruviel’s features lit with a small smile. “Just wait till winter sets in. It can be bitterly unforgiving, and equally as lovely.”

Godhric hummed lowly. “I believe you,” he said with a short pause. “What did you come to me for? I am sure it was not to talk about the weather.”

Eruviel tisked softly. “Ah, but the weather is such a broad topic.” Looking out over the water her expression turned serious. The emotions and thoughts of the man from when she had, but for a short time, inhabited his body were still all too fresh in her memory. “When will you leave?”

“The Wayfarers?” He paused again in thought. “After we have settled in Bree. I will ask Oendir to resume his place as Commander. My son and I have matters to attend to in Rohan, and I am homesick.”

Eruviel ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, nodding once. “And when will you return?”

Godhric remained silent. His eyes narrowed on the distant edges of the water where his vision ended.

Eruviel did not break the silence for a time as she watches the water in the bay ease and roll at the behest of the tide and breeze. “You meet a lot of people in fifteen hundred years, but I can only count on one hand the number of men I have met whom I would follow to any end, and fewer still that I would do so unconditionally. If you do not eventually come back, be sure that I will send both Hallem and Feygil after you.”

Godhric’s chest deflated after releasing a large, measured breath with a plume of mist that extended from his lips. “It seems I will have to make my home in the North, now.”

A soft chuckle escaped her. Reaching into the pocket of her warm coat she pulled out her notebook, and from it an aged envelope. She had intended to save it for the next time she passed north of Lorien, but somehow this seemed right. Looking up with a soft smile and meaningful look, she extended it to Godric. “I am sure you can find a proper place to plant this once you get to where you are going.”

Godhric glanced over to study the envelope before unclasping one hand to reach for it. “What is it?” he asked as he held it in front of himself.

“Seeds. Plant the dried flower with it, and wait a week. It should sprout and bloom by then.”

Godhric brought forth a second hand to hold the seeds with. “I will. Thank you.”

Eruviel closed the notebook and slipped it back into her pocket. “You are welcome. Thank you.”

Godhric nodded slowly, then glanced forward to the water once more. “I believe I am going to take a walk before I head back to the village. I will not stray far,” he said. “Thank you, for everything you have done for me.”

Eruviel looked to him for a moment, then dipped her head in a respectful bow. “Commander.” She then stepped away and turned to head back to the village.

“Eruviel,” came Godric’s voice from behind her.

Eruviel stopped and looked back as the man as he turned to face her. “Sir?”

Her eyes sparkled as they might if she had laughed as his voice rose over the sound of the frigid, lapping waves. Responding in jest, she did not have to wait for him to continue.

“– When I am gone, I need you to look after them all for me. Can you promise me this?”

The Elf then gave him a sure nod. “I will look after them. You have have my word.”

Godhric nodded once with a warm smile, then turned to leave, away from Suri-Kyla.

 

(Thank you to Valthier for playing Godric. Taken from in-game RP and edited for tense and composition.)

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Bittersweet: Accident

The tunnels were bitterly cold, and it only grew worse the further the company ventured underground. Ice had coated them as they had crossed the snow-covered valley they left behind, and now they stood in a dim, lower cavern, having captured one of the enemy with no small amount of effort.

Eruviel’s expression grew stern as she listened to the Corcur sitting before her. “The black crystals are as we feared, and serve as focuses for necromancy. His people plan to use them to resurrect a mighty dragon of old that was excavated deeper into the tunnels.”

Cedoric let out a soft sigh, shaking his head. Thorgest’s expression hardened at the news, and there was something alarming in the dwarf’s dark eyes.

Godric sighed as he listened to Eruviel’s words. “I was hoping they were merely attempting to warm their pups. How many of his people?”

Eruviel turned her attention back to the man in ragged red and brown robes, nodding slowly before motioning behind her as she translated for Godric.

Feygil eyed Thorgest. “Wha’ is it?”

The Dwarf glanced at Feygil. “We must not allow the dragon to rise at any cost.”

“Wha’ kind o’ consequences we talkin’ abou’ ‘ere?”

Eruviel arched a brow in apparent doubt at the Corcur sitting before her. Glancing to Feygil and Thorgest, she shifted her gaze to their Commander. “He says that there are about two hundred here working on the project, and the chamber is to the south-west,” she translated, nodding to Godric. “He says he does not know how many guard it.”

Meluion folded his arms together. “About as much consequences as you can imagine a dragon can bring,” he said stoically to Feygil before turning his attention to the Elf. “Are these workers soldiers? Labourers? Paid or slaves?”

“The irreparable kind,” Thorgest responded to Feygil.

Godric knit his brows together at the mention of numbers. “Bring him with us. He will serve as a deterrent. Tell him if he tries anything foolish, I will kill him.” He then turned to whistle softly for Cedoric to return.

Feygil sighed and nodded. “Tha’s wha’ I was afraid of.”

Eruviel looked back to the Corcur and spoke again with him. The company had promised not to harm him if he gave them information, but if he betrayed them —

As Eruviel conveyed Godric’s threat, the captive man’s eyes widened. He began to shout, and tries to wrestle his way free of his captivity. They had promised not to hurt him. All he wanted was to go home.

It was loud, and sudden and reacting, Eruviel moved to punch the man in the face. One stray echo could give them away, but against two hundred Corcur, desperate shouts could see them all killed before they could make it to the mouth of the cave.

Feygil leaned forward to stifle the man’s attempted escape, nearly  catching an elbow in the nose as the Elf swung. Meluion as well reached to restrain the man.

Knock him out or stun him. You can apologize later and help him get home, but his shouting will see us all ki— Eruviel’s fist connected with the man’s face with a brutal, beatly crunch. Blood splattered onto all the Wayfarers in the vicinity. The prisoner fell into the dirt, dead.

Cedoric blinked in surprise, seeming unsure of how to react at such an action. After a few moments, his brows furrowed.

Godric stepped back as Eruviel’s fist connected with the man’s face, and blood splashed onto his boots. He eyed the scene in slight shock, then studied Eruviel. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

Meluion looked at Eruviel in dismay. Thorgest’s stoic expression became one of momentary alarm. He gave the Elf a glance of distaste, then moved away from her.

“Fack!” Feygil cursed as she leaned over the man to feel for breathing. “Gods dammit!” Her jaw flexed as the clay child-sized handprint fell from the man’s hand.

Eruviel stared at the dead man, her hand still balled into a fist, warm blood dripping from her leather-covered knuckles. What did I… dammit… dammit! Her expression stern and unreadable, she rose calmly to her feet. “That was unfortunate,” she commented quietly. She might have smirked at Godric’s comment any other time, but now now. “I did not mean to hit him that hard.”

Godric shook his head. “If you hadn’t, I would have done so myself. He was warned. Let’s go.”

Eruviel nodded once, silently thanking him. She could not bring herself to look at the others even as she felt their eyes upon her, or the bit of clay Feygil retrieved. She could not look at the body of the man, nor the broken face as Thorgest drug him off the path. A sick feeling tugged at her gut, but she set her jaw and knocked another arrow against her bowstring. It had been an accident. Again. It would do no good to lament. Not here. Not with two hundred Corcur and the threat of a dragon. There were more pressing matters at hand. Any regret she felt could wait.

Bittersweet: Quiet in a Library

DA Library 1

Godric dipped his head to the man. “My name is Godric, acting Commander of the Wayfarers’ Guild. We believe you may be in danger, and we have come to protect you.”

Eruviel glanced around as Godric began speaking with the portly scholar. Taking note of the walkway opposite of where the man sat, she motioned to Fey that she would make her way over there. Offering the man her most charming and reassuring smile, she turned to silently head down the hall.

A few girls, dressed in the robes of scholars, lingered on the opposite balcony near Eruviel. They peered curiously over to where Cabrion and the others stood.

Wary of onlookers, Eruviel inspected around the opposite corner before approaching the group of girls. “Good evening ladies,” she said with a pleasant tone and smile. “I am sorry if we are disturbing your studying.”

The girls all looked taken aback by Eruviel, but not too much. One shook her head, and smiled. “No, we’re done for the night.”

She could just make out Godric sighing and speaking with the scholar Cabrion. “I was not aware that only nobles were considered good enough targets for assassins.”

If she could hear him at this distance, others closer to the man could as well. Eruviel inclined her head to the small group. “Forgive my friends. It is nothing to be alarmed about, I assure you. They just do not know how to be quiet in a library. But please, do not let me keep you.”

The girl nodded to Eruviel. “Right. Thank you.” They all give her polite nods and smiles before trailing back down one of the halls.

Returning a smile, she turned to continue her watch, but kept an eye on the girls as they went.

Godric’s voice softly echoed out around the high pillars.  “An organization whose only interest is money. Someone paid them to kill you, and so they are going to attempt to do so. I am not going to let you die. You are coming with us whether you like it or not.”

She had never seen oliphants, but she was sure her company was just as loud as one. Walking back into sight of her friends, she made a low tsk. A few of them looked her way, and she signed for them to keep their voices down.

Then she heard it; the soft whisper of a bowstring being drawn. Taking her bow from her back, she dodge out of sight and nocked an arrow. Across on the far left near the grand staircase she could make out a hooded figure hidden behind a bench, aiming his bow at Cabrion. Without hesitating she loosed her arrow at the assassin.

A scream echoed through the hall as a young woman witnessed Eruviel’s arrow stick into the shoulder of the armed, hooded figure. The man stood quickly, and darted down the stairs. Sprinting after him, Eruviel rounded a corner, flew down the steps, and hopped a banister over to the next flight. 

Slowing to a stop by the woman who had screamed, Eruviel quickly looked her over for injury. “Madam, are you unhurt?”

The shaken woman nodded stiffly. “I… Yes,” she choked out. “I-I need to get my students out of here.”

Eruviel offered her an apologetic smile. “I am sorry to have frightened you. Please, get your students out and inform whoever is in charge here. The man who fled is very dangerous.” Giving the woman one last nod and a smile, she took off once more after the wounded man.

It was an easy path to follow. Turning down a long corridor, a gradually increasing blood trail led the way. Whoever the man was had quite a wound. Eruviel hurried down the hall, frowning at the the ground. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.

The trail led her to the end of the hall and up a few steps. Holding onto caution, she skipped up the steps and stopped as she caught sight of the man slumped down on the floor against a wall. A dark hood covered his features. Her arrow looked to have embedded deeply into the soft flesh just under his shoulder, and there was quite a lot of blood. From his raspy breaths, she could tell that he was still conscious. Kneeling down by the man, Eruviel pressed one hand by the wound in attempt to stop the bleeding. Her other hand searched him for weapons. “If you’d not been hiding so well, I could have shot you somewhere less important,” she muttered.

The man sputtered something that was half a cough and half a laugh. “It’s… about time… someone saw me.”

Having heard them follow after, Eirikr and Godric slowed to stand behind her. Godric looked to the man on the ground and Eirikr turned to survey the area around them. “Is he the only one you saw?” Godric asked.

Eruviel nodded to Godric, and reached her free hand under the man’s hood to press against his forehead. It hurt. It was always worse on this end, and while not as bad as the last couple times, the pain pouring into her shoulder from the man was, to be put mildly, unpleasant. Moisture filled the corners of her eyes, but Eruviel just inclined her head to the man. “Do you think you could be moved to get you to a healer?”

Godric knelt down by them and awaited the man’s response to Eruviel’s question.

As Eruviel reached beneath the hood, the familiar features of Húnir came into the light. His features seem to ease some with Eruviel’s touch, but he still looked incredibly worn. “How should I know…? I am no healer.”

Godric grumbled lowly. “He has a point.”

Cwendlwyn’s voice could be heard, calling softly from the hall. “Eirik!”

Eruviel nodded, but did not seem too pleased about all of the blood loss. But Cwen was here now. She could do something for him. “Who hired you to kill that man?”

Cwendlwyn quickly came into view of the scene. “Oh, Bema help me….” She waved her hands to clear the way. “Out of the way, out of the way,” she murmured as she stepped forward.

Húnir’s gaze turned towards Cwen and Meluion as they approached. “My owners… You already must have known.”

Godric stood back up and moved away as instructed. Eruviel shifted to the side so as to be out of Cwendlwyn’s way, but still kept her hand on Húnir’s forehead.

“Forget his head! Keep applying pressure to the wound,” ordered Cwen as she began digging through her pack.

Eruviel nodded, and quickly reached over with her already bloodied hand to press against the wound. Unsure, her other hand slowly drew away.

Húnir just grunted. His chin dipped to his chest as he tried to take deep, unsteady breaths.

Cwendlwyn’s normally severe brow softened just a smudge as she cut away the shirt to reveal the wound. “Don’t force it. I’ve fixed worse,” she said before setting to her work.

~ ~ ~ *** ~ ~ ~

Only another hour passed before Eruviel returned to the Colagar Estate with the rest of her guild. Húnir had been carried back by Eirikr and Feygil, and Cwendlwyn was sitting up to tend and keep watch over the unconscious man. Learning that no others were to be sent after Cabrion that night, the Elf slipped away to the confines of her quarters.

It was cool in the room, and a sea breeze wafted in the open windows. Washing the last of the dried blood from her hands, she traded her clothes for a thin summer robe, and sunk down to lean against a wall. She was used to taking the headaches, weariness and stress of her friends, but this was different. Not quite as bad as the lingering emotions that had plagued her after the previous year’s journey, nor the girl by the lake, or even Hallem’s legs, this pain seemed somehow more harsh. Not just because she was not also wounded, so her body did not fight off the pain that faded all too slowly, but because it had been caused by her in the first place.

Pulling the clip out to loosen her braid, she lay down to drink in the cold from the stone floors. It’s about time someone saw me. Some of it was probably the pain talking, but she felt guilty for having wounded him so. He needed a chance to break from the leash that bound him to Neldor and the organization that held him captive. And, unlike so many in this city, she hoped he would see that chance, and take it.

Letting out a sigh, Eruviel shifted on her side and closed her eyes. It would be gone in a few hours, and she would be right as rain. She would check on the others, and Húnir, then probably make her way to the library to see if any help could be offered in return for the mess that was made. Only a few more hours and a whole other day would begin.

((Minor editing has been done for tense and exposition.

A few things were lost between saving in-game chat logs, but I think I remembered it all correctly.

Thank you to Atanamir for GMing, and playing as Húnir and Cabrion!)