Jul. 8th, 2010

not_sinister: (necromancer)

Naitachal made his way back from the Bar, glad he'd taken a few days off, to find himself in the forest right where.. and when… he'd left it. He made his way close to the fire with the lighting supplies, seating himself down, right outside the ring of firelight. The White elf, Eliathanis by name, had begun pointedly polishing his blade again, glancing at him every so often.

Naitachal ignored him, silently looking through the things he'd brought with him. Kevin, the bardling, had begun playing music. It seemed to be rather repetitive, as if he was looking for something, though he seemed badly startled whenever the Fairy sneered at him.

The warrior, Lydia, had begun pacing over and over again, circling the camp. When asked what she was doing, her reply to the bardling was, "Checking."

Naitachal used his own abilities for a few moments, to see if there was a threat.. no. There were no living creatures around that were big enough to be a threat to them.

"Nothing lurks out there." Naitachal murmured in response. The others were clearly badly startled. Had they thought him to be a statue? He stifled a laugh, before he continued. "Nothing living."

With superb timing, the Dark Elf waited till the others had a chance to imagine undead horrors, before adding lightly, "Except, of course for the small, normal creatures of the forest."

"Oh, thank you." The warrior woman muttered, clearly sarcastic.

Naitachal's lips curled up in a smile as he glanced up at her and generously, he ventured a peace offering. 

 

"There is a rather large skeleton under the leaves to your left. It was a wolf, I believe, and it is still in fairly good condition. If you wish, Lydia, I can summon it up to stand guard?"

The woman gave him a look of sheer horror. "Uh, no, that won't be necessary. I-"

And then the blasted White Elf's sword was in his hand, and he snapped at Naitachal," We will have none of your foul sorceries!"

Naitachal held his anger in by sheer force of will. Hat the hells was this elf’s problem anyway? Naitachal had offered them a favor; A rather useful one… It hardly deserved this sort of response!

 

"You melodramatic fool." Naitachal's voice was quietly deadly. "Don't ever point a weapon at me. Not unless you intend to use it."

 

"Push me too far, Dark Elf, and I will." Eliathanis hissed back and Naitachal felt his control over that rage undone. He purred a provocation right back.

"Go ahead, White Elf…Try."

 

"Stop that!" The bardling snapped, and both elves turned to him in surprise. "You sound like little boys daring each other to fight! Look, I know you two don't like each other, but we're stuck with each other. For the sake of our mission, can't you declare a truce?"

 

Eliathanis frowned sternly.” It is not in elf natures to lie."

Naitachal raised an eyebrow at the bardling, his wrath checked and smoothing over as he gazed at the way the boy then shifted straight into a lecture, as if they were children who needed to be scolded.

 

"Well then at least pretend! And you, Lydia, will you please stop pacing? Naitachal told you there's nothing dangerous out there. We have three Faerie-kin here and five horses; surely one of them will be able to warn us if anything's approaching." He glared at them all. "Is that all right with everyone? Yes? Fine! And now, goodnight!"

 

There was startled silence.

 

Naitachal stared in surprise at bardling even as he wrapped himself in a blanket, turned away, and curled up to sleep. The Nitathil could not help but smile wryly, and shook his head. The bardling was full of surprises, it seems, but at least.. At least he was more practical about these things than the blasted White Elf.

 

He’d have to find someway to repay the boy.

 

Perhaps.. once he was finished sorting out these glowsticks and putting them into varying places in his pockets and saddlebags, he might show the boy these. It couldn’t hurt.

 

An hour later, after the boy had finally fallen asleep, the Fairy engaged him in conversation. Naitachal couldn’t help but find the verbal sparring (in Elvish, no less!) quite stimulating, and the conversation shifted from one thing to another, finally ending up in an impromptu game of cards.

 

The bardling woke, disoriented, somewhere in the small hours of the night

 

There, just barely visible in the darkness, were Naitachal and Tich'ki, talking softly together in the elvish tongue as though they were old friends.

When  they felt the bardling watching them, they turned as one—Two pairs of alien eyes, glowing eerily, looked at him.

 

Naitachal noticed the boy seemed to be startled, frightened. Feeling somewhat responsible for the boy’s lost rest, Naitachal murmured, "Go back to sleep, Kevin.”

 

The Bardling drifted off to sleep.

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