Thanks to everyone who cares so much and encourages me. Really it means more than you know.
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Isléann pulled her cloak tighter about her as the cold wind tugged playfully at it. Her horse, Aodhfin, snorted in the gust of icy air, and a small cloud drifted away from the animal’s nose.
The elf turned and looked at her traveling companion, Sylveren. The Sylvan strode briskly along with his cloak trailing behind him, though the leaves on his head seemed more wilted than usual in the cold weather. He was not used to the northern climate, having spent most of his life on the Isle of Avalon, their home far to the south.
“We are close now,” Isléann said quietly. “I can feel it.”
The Sylvan blinked slowly, pulled out of his reverie of studying the forest surrounding them. He nodded and replied, “Yes… Look how the road broadens here. I can feel the ground change here, as well. It is packed hard. I am thinking this road has been here for a long time, now… A very long time…”
She smiled to herself, but grew somber once more as the first view of the tops of thatch-roofed buildings appeared over the treetops.
As the pair entered the
Approaching the large, three-storied inn near the town square, Isléann could not help looking about her at the townsfolk walking in the street. What is wrong with these people? And why is it so cold this far into the year?
The elf dismounted and whispered something to her mount before she patted him and handed Aodhfin’s reins to a stable boy, who led the horse away. Turning to Sylveren, she smiled, though he was once again lost in thought as he observed the village around them. He would still not be used to the villages of men yet, which differed so greatly from the elven Grove they had journeyed far from.
“Shall we go in, Sylveren?” she asked gently.
He nodded slowly before turning his gaze from a small boy holding to his mother’s apron strings as they walked down the street. “Yes. It is cold… Quite cold here. I will welcome the hearth once more.”
The two stepped into the Emerald Oak Inn and Tavern and were greeted by a warm wall of air and a cheery glow from a crackling fire on the large stone fireplace at the far end of the common room. There were only one or two patrons sitting at the tables at this hour of the morning, and both looked to be just finishing breakfast. Aside from a serving girl wiping a table, there was no one else in the room.
As Isléann surveyed the common room, a large, round, jolly fellow emerged from a door behind the bar. Upon seeing the two strangers in his inn, he cheerily called out, “Hallo, Miss!” She glided over to the counter, cool and serene with Sylveren following close behind her.
The man, apparently the proprietor of the establishment, gave a start and widened his eyes for a moment as he realized the lady before him was an elf, and her companion a Sylvan. “How can I be of service to you this day, m’lady?” he asked, bobbing his head.
Isléann allowed the ghost of a smile to touch the corners of her mouth and replied, “I will require rooms for two, if you please, Master… an’Bril.”
The innkeeper blinked in surprise and bit off the question that sprang to his mouth. “Right away, m’lady.” He waved over the serving girl who had been wiping the table, and she led them up the stairs at the back of the room.
Upon reaching the landing, they turned down a dim passage that led to the front of the inn. Turning to face Isléann, the serving girl dropped a curtsy and opened the door to a large bedchamber overlooking the street below. “Here you are, m’lady.” She nodded slightly to the girl and walked into the room as Sylveren followed her to the next room over.
The accommodations were apparently the best the inn had to offer. The room was clean, and it had its own fireplace to one side, though the furnishings were somewhat sparse. Placing her hands on her hips, Isléann surveyed the bed. Fortunately, it had no bugs in it, unlike one of the other stops she had made on her journey here. She grimaced at the memory and walked to the windowed wall, where she could see clearly both ways up and down the main street of the village which passed the inn.
Already in the short time she had been here, more banners and booths had been erected on the green field off to the right. More people were out and about now, too, and she could see the grey smoke of hearths being stoked for the morning floating up from the chimneys.
She suddenly realized that she had not brought up her bags and mentally chided herself for such ignorance. You fool child! You’re not old enough to be out on your own yet! A momentary tightening of her face was all that marked the passing thought, however.
She turned around to find Sylveren standing at the entrance to her room, tracing his hands along the worn, hardwood walls with his eyes closed and a faint expression of concentration on his woody features. He was no doubt listening to the wood’s story, feeling its spirit.
“Sylveren, I just realized that we left our things downstairs. Would you like to come help me with them?” she asked.
He opened his eyes and nodded. “Indeed, I will. This inn is old, quite old. It has a feel about it of having seen many things pass. Truly, this is an ancient town.”
Isléann led the way down the stairs and into the common room once more. As they stepped out of the inn, the cold air struck them just as suddenly as the warmth had when they had entered, and her breath made a small cloud when she spoke. “I believe the stables are just around the back here.”
As she rounded the corner of the inn, she was almost bowled over by a small boy dashing past with a bundle of wood under his arm. He had such a bright smile of eagerness on his face as he headed towards where the men were setting up the village green that she had to smile herself.
Looking up once more, the elf found the small yard beside the inn empty. She held up her skirts with one hand as she made her way delicately across the dirt yard and into the dim stable, where most of the stalls stood empty as well. The only person about that she could see was the young man who had led Aodhfin away earlier.
“Boy, I seem to have left my things out here yet,” she said.
He turned around from where he had been brushing and admiring Aodhfin, apparently startled at having visitors. He glanced between the two for just a moment before bowing slightly and opening the stall’s gate. “Right away, my lady. If I may say so, my lady, you have a fine horse here,” he said tentatively as he stepped out and strode over to the wall where saddles and other riding gear were hanging.
He picked up some bags leaning against the wall and stood up, waiting for her to lead the way out. As he straightened, something shiny flashed from his open collar and caught Isléann’s eye. She stood aside and motioned for him to go ahead of them.
As he walked past Aodhfin’s stall, the horse nickered and nodded his head slightly, his eyes following the boy as he walked out of the stables. Isléann looked at him studiously, almost in question, and the horse seemed to nod his head once more.
Before she followed him back to the inn, she leaned closer to her companion and said in a voice just barely above a whisper, “Sylveren, I think we have found what we are looking for.”
