This is the first of our stories after the five year jump. It takes place on the ship en route to Hai-Lan, so have fun with it!"

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"Reunions"

Music drifted on the wind.

Below decks, those lucky individuals who were able to find sleep were oblivious to its spell, but those who—like the player himself—found sleep hard in coming opened their eyes, the soft, tender notes of the violin caressing them, invigorating them; the magic of the music painted images within their minds, grand vistas terrible and beautiful, and dark nights spent below a strange and alien sky. Emotions stirred unbidden within them, bringing them to tears: betrayal at the hands of friends, an escape into an unknown realm, utter awe at the beauty of such a magical place, followed soon after by the cold, dread certainty of fear and danger.

The music spoke of grandiose battles fought amongst a shifting plane of raw magic, a power unbound by the world it ravaged. The music sang epic melodies of victory against overwhelming odds, and of the pride one feels after a job well done, or a battle well fought. But also the music carried through the night mournfully, the long, sorrowful notes of the violin turning somber as the player poured forth his soul, infusing the music with a tinge of pain, turning it from a tune of victory won at a high cost to a bitter elegy for the fallen, savage and eloquent. Those who listened were caught up within the power of the song, and the deep, despondent wailing of the instrument consumed them, filling their hearts and minds completely, leaving room for little else.

All who heard were stricken by the beauty and the darkness of the music.

Unmindful of the effect that his music was having on his fellow adventurers, Arius played on from his perch high in the center mast, a nimbus of light flickering about him, emanating, it seemed, from the exposed skin of his pale face and hands. Around him, shimmering brightly in the dark, foggy night sky, several small, fist-size orbs of multicolored light hovered and danced about him, moving in concert with his music. Small, delicate, human-like forms could be seen within these spheres of lights, and if one listened hard enough, high, soft voices could be heard joining in with Arius’ playing. A light breeze blew in from the northwest, carrying with it a hint of something dark and ominous, something that caused Arius to falter, and he opened his glowing amethyst eyes, turning his attention to the direction of the wind’s origin. Several long, silent moments later Arius continued, closing his eyes once more and shaking off the sudden chill of dread that had washed over him.

Surrounded by the dancing lights and looking altogether ethereal, the elf played on, though the tone of his song once again changed, becoming darker and heavier, tainted, perhaps, by the sudden black wind. The mental picture painted by Arius’ music took on a frightening edge, one colored by the darkness and despair of loss. Those who listened were stricken, held in thrall not by the beauty of the song, but by the torment of it. The listeners shivered, reaching out for the nearest blankets and wrapping them tightly about themselves to ward off the sudden cold that rushed through their blood. The darkness around them seemed to close in, becoming stifling and thick, and a heavy pressure seemed to bear down on them, something unnatural and ill-omened.

High above, Arius continued to play, tears streaking his pale, glowing face as he poured more and more emotion into the music, his fingers pressing down on the strings almost of their own volition, his bow running across the instrument as if it had a mind of its own. Dark memories of long, tortuous months locked within the deepest, darkest bowels of the earth seemed to weave themselves into the song, which began to take on a dire, frantic quality, the notes becoming high and shrill, causing the listeners’ blood to burn as it rushed through their veins, forcing more than one of them to clench their eyes shut in a vain attempt to block out the music. The once pleasant, beautiful voices that had sang along with the violin changed as well, becoming instead high wails of agony and fear that cut through the night.

“Arius…” Daerist’s mental voice interrupted, bringing with it a soothing light that coursed quickly through the elf’s body, snapping him out of the spell that seemed to have taken hold of him.

Slowly the music calmed as well, and voices of the dancing lights settled into a simple counter-melody, complementing the violin’s song perfectly. Rather than the dread terror of the last several minutes, the music now carried with it the soft, unmistakable tone of joy. The joy of being alive and well, the joy in simply playing, and, more than anything else, the joy of being reunited with friends left behind long ago.

A ghost of a smile played across Arius’ lips as he sensed someone approaching, slowly climbing up the stairs from below to stand upon the deck of the ship. Pretending to be oblivious, Arius simply kept his eyes closed and continued his song, his fingers playing across the violin strings, eliciting from the instrument soft tones of comfort and relief. He opened one eye, gazing down from his perch to watch as Febrien remained rooted in place, no doubt in shock at seeing her long-time companion’s now nearly-ghostly form surrounded by the flickering, singing orbs of rainbow-hued light. Feeling suddenly playful, Arius made a decision.

Febrien gasped as the glowing elf simply vanished from his place above in the crow’s nest, and her surprise increased tenfold when, with a gust of wind, she felt a body press firmly against hers from behind. Above, where Arius had been, the sound of his last note drifted in the air to be joined by the music that now emanated from behind her. Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, Febrien turned her head to look back over her shoulder, to where Arius stood back to back with her, still playing his violin softly, humming along with the music, the same half-smile upon his face.

“Arius…”

The second that the word left Febrien’s lips, Arius’ music simply stopped. The last, soft echoes drifted through the night before slipping away into silence, leaving the two elves standing alone together, back to back on the deck of the ship. Arius lowered the instrument, opening his eyes and looking over his shoulder toward Febrien as he spoke.

“Yes?”

A long, heavy silence seemed to settle between them for quite some time, and Arius moved away from Febrien as he replaced his precious violin within his travelling pack, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he came to a stop at the ship’s railing, his brightly glowing eyes focused unwaveringly on the dark water below, as if searching the waves for something only he knew.

“Arius, why did—” Febrien stopped, shaking her head as she turned to face the fey warlock, who now stood several feet away, his back to her as continued to watch the ocean, its dark surface barely visible through the rapidly thickening fog. “Where have you been?” she finally asked, slowly walking toward him but stopping short, awaiting an answer but unsure of whether or not she’d actually receive one.

To her surprise, Arius spoke.

“I’ve been home, Febrien,” he said, his voice heavily laden with emotion. He turned to face her, leaning back against the railing, an aura of soft white light glowing around him. “Or rather,” he continued, raising his brightly burning eyes to meet hers, “I’ve been to a place that feels more like home than anywhere else I’ve been in a long, long time…” He lapsed into silence again, and several minutes passed before he went on. “It was so beautiful, Febrien, unlike any place I’ve ever seen. I can scarcely describe it, to be honest.”

“I don’t think that you need to,” she responded, pulling her eyes away from his and inclining her head toward his travel pack. “Your song said much, Arius; you’ve gotten much better.”

Arius nodded, patting his pack and smiling slightly. “Yes,” he agreed. “Sweet Song and I have had much time to get to know each other better. It is something that I wish I could say about all who mean so much to me.” He stepped forward as he said the last, resting a glowing hand lightly upon Febrien’s shoulder.

Febrien trembled, feeling uncomfortable for a moment and pulling away, turning her back to Arius as she struggled against a sudden flood of unnerving emotions. She spun suddenly, a fire burning behind her sapphire eyes. “Why? Why did you have to leave?” Anger boiled up within her, warring with the happiness that she felt at seeing her friend alive and well after so many years apart.

“You’re angry,” Arius stated flatly, his smile fading.

“Yes I’m angry!” Febrien retorted, walking further away from Arius, who simply followed after her slowly. “You never said a word, Arius; no goodbyes, no telling us where you were going, or how long you’d be away. Do you even care at all about how I—” she faltered for a moment before continuing, “how we’d feel?”

“I’m sorry,” Arius said softly, moving to stand behind her once more. “I can make no excuses for what I did, Febrien; when I left, it was little more than a childish tantrum, and I had no idea how long I’d truly be gone. I had intended to return shortly after I’d left but… But events there began to move more quickly, and I found it hard to leave behind those who had come to rely on me. As far as you feelings are concerned…” His trailed off and he shrugged, unsure of what to say.

The elven woman turned her head, watching Arius over her shoulder. “What brought you back, then?”

“I was not so unaware of the happening here as you may think,” he answered, stepping closer still and resting his hands upon her shoulders. “I knew of some dark power mustering its forces, and I knew that my powers may be needed here. For good or ill, my job in the Feywild has come to an end…” Febrien could sense something deep and sorrowful within her companion, and she was about to speak when Arius went on. “And…” Silence followed this, as if Arius were struggling with his next words.

“And what?” Febrien asked as the fog seemed to swirl about the two of them. Suddenly she jumped, gasping as she felt Arius’ arms encircle her from behind, holding her tightly, drawing her closer as he rested his head near hers, almost cheek to cheek.

“And,” he said, his breath hot against her skin and sending shivers down her spine. “And… Because I love you.”

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AMdG

Febrien leaned her arms on the rail and gazed out across the rippling black water. Brilliant stars reflected up from its surface in patches, playing hide-and-seek through the heavy fog that enveloped the ship. The steady lapping of waves against the bow, normally so comforting to the ranger, did nothing to ease her mind this night. Arius’ music, along with the memory of his last words to her, still hung in the air, as if suspended in time. Sighing, the elf rubbed her eyes as her troubled thoughts chased one another through her head. Arius had never been one to make life simple.

“What troubles you so, my dear?” asked an unexpected voice. Febrien jumped, not having noticed Daerist’s arrival.

“Him,” was all she responded, settling herself to lean against the railing once more. Her eyes restlessly scanned the horizon, unable to find the solace or answers she sought.

“Yes, he can be very troubling at times,” the ancient king agreed. “But he does love you.”

“So he tells me,” the female elf replied mentally, her eyes darkening. “Still, after so much time, I can’t help but wonder what brought about this change of heart.”

“How do you mean?” Daerist asked, a note of puzzlement entering his mental voice.

“I just don’t understand,” the elf replied, pushing away from the rail to pace fitfully along its length. “He was so angry when he left, and then I heard nothing from him for so many years. After awhile, I stopped expecting him to turn up somewhere, when I least expected it – stopped seeing him out of the corner of my eye in a crowd. I thought…”

“He might be dead.”

“Yes. I thought he might be dead. Must be dead.” The woman was surprised to find herself fighting back tears. She angrily swiped at her eyes and turned back to the restless waves, their rough movement perfectly mirroring her warring emotions. “I know how much he values his solitude, but even though he was so mad at me, I thought that surely he wouldn’t disappear that way, for so long. How can he just show up now and expect me to welcome him with open arms as if nothing has happened? I don’t understand him at all, Daerist. Over a thousand years, and I have learned nothing.” With this, the ranger resumed her pacing, longing to escape to the forest’s familiar embrace, but surrounded by ocean on all sides.

“Time passes differently in the Feywild – you know that. And he has missed you more than you may realize. Yes, he has changed much in his journeys, but he has endured much more.”

Febrien stilled at the dark note that had entered her friend’s voice. “What do you mean?”

The old elf’s voice took on a slightly agitated tone. “You heard his music tonight. The dark force spreading across Bolermos is not confined to this plane. Arius has done much to stop its corruption of the Feywild; and has paid much in return.”

The ranger’s eyes were pulled inescapably up to the dark form lounging at the stern of the ship, more than distance separating the two elves. Reminiscent of her pose of a few minutes before, he leaned against the railing, staring out across the ocean. “He said that many had come to rely on him there,” she mused thoughtfully.

“Yes,” the ethereal voice confirmed. “He has become the head of the movement to stop the spread of this darkness within the fey realm,” he continued. “Whether he wishes it or not. The creatures there have grown to respect and follow him, and he has led them well, although it has not always been easy.”

Febrien settled herself against the rail once more, listening intently. “Will you tell me what happened?”

The old elf was silent for a long moment, and Febrien began to wonder if he would answer at all. Finally–hesitatingly–he spoke. Over the next half an hour, Daerist detailed Arius’ exploits in the five years since she had seen him last. The elven woman listened in rapt attention, her heart going out to her friend as the one-time king told of his epic triumphs and the most bitter of losses, putting words to the music heard not long before. When he was finished, Febrien stood silently for a few moments, absorbing all that he had said. Finally, she shook herself and looked about, returning to the present world.

“Thank you,” she said presently. “I think I understand now.” The elf thought she detected a sense of contentment emanating from the unseen elf’s consciousness.

“Wonderful. I think things will come together nicely, now that that’s been taken care of.”

A guarded look crossed Febrien’s features. “I didn’t say that I returned his affections.”

“Whatever do you mean?”Daerist asked innocently. “Are you saying that you don’t love him in return? I would think your feelings should be obvious, if one were paying attention.”

A flustered look crossed the elf’s striking features. “Right now, I’m not sure what I feel,” she retorted, pushing away from the rail once more. “He certainly picked a fine time to make his intentions known.” She gazed off across the horizon ahead in the direction of their destination. “I fear there is more to be concerned with than my personal feelings in this dark time.”

Daerist’s tone sobered. “You are right in that regard, my dear,” he agreed. “But do try to consider what he offers. His strength may not be in his social graces, but perhaps he has other redeeming qualities?”

Before she could respond, the elf king left her mind, and her eyes were drawn once more to the silent figure standing on the opposite end of the ship. As she looked on, the black-cloaked form slowly turned to regard her with glowing amethyst eyes. Febrien held his gaze for several moments, confusion and uncertainty clouding her mind and playing across her features. Finally, she dropped her gaze and walked to the stairs leading below deck, feeling his eyes upon her long after she had descended.

Her feet marked her path unconsciously, and soon she found herself in front of Kiera’s stall. Pulling the half-door open, she entered and crossed to the black warhorse, burying her face in her familiar mane. The mare whickered deep in her throat, sending forth comforting emotions of security and understanding. Inhaling deeply, the elven woman sank to the floor and leaned against the stall door, staring up at her closest friend.

“This seems a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into,” she confided. The mare lowered her head and nuzzled her companion’s shoulder affectionately, sensing her friend’s needs; but the elven woman could not help but remember another chin that had rested there, not so long ago. As a waning moon rose low over the horizon, the large warhorse stood vigil over her troubled friend, and the dark figure above slowly crossed the deck and took her place at the bow, resting his arms upon the rail and gazing up at the empty stars.