"The Archer Vs. the Wolfbringer" Log Date: 11/4/02 Log Cast: Strongbow, Rillwhisper Log Intro: Life has been _extremely_ complicated around Lostholt as of late. Wayfound, daughter of Rillwhisper, has come back after an absence of several turns of the seasons with shocking news, and it's anybody's guess which is the more shocking: that Wayfound has been keeping company with a band of strange, friendly humans from a distant land who have become stranded in the land that the elves know, or that monsters obviously created by elfin magic are running loose in the land. Rillwhisper, along with her lifemates, Ynderra the healer, Wayfound, Wayfound's Go-Back lovemate Tefin, and the humans Arnos and Maerro, has led an expedition to the remote grove created by the first elf that came to Lostholt's mind as the number one suspect for creating these monsters: the mad Firstborn Doreel. While there, they slew many of the giant spiders the Mad One had created--and captured Doreel himself, along with a she-elf he called Oriolle, whom he seemed to have driven mad as well. Unable to heal them both by herself, Ynderra has urged that the two recovered elves be taken to Lostholt in wrapstuff, so that she may seek Leetah's assistance in trying to mend both of their minds. At the same time, Cutter and Strongbow have returned from a little foray of their own to Blue Mountain, to make certain _Winnowill_ is not actually creating these monsters--and so Strongbow, who is already less than thrilled about Rillwhisper's cub fraternizing with the Tall Ones, is about to discover to his ire exactly what else his soul-sister has been up to.... ---------- Base of the Lost Holt Father Tree(#765RJ) A dense grove of grotesquely shaped trees dominated by one immense Grandfather of a tree whose age is no less great than its size. It is obvious that the old tree has survived a terrible tragedy but new growth and thick strong branches cover the worst of the scars left by the terrible blaze. Weeds and night blooming wildflowers grow in a riot of natural disorder around the trees roots, taking advantage of the NewGreen warmth. Like old friends, the gnarled trees embrace one another, their many branches entwining to form a dense canopy high above the ground. It is early morning, springtime. Elves and wolves alike seek their dens. Contents: Strongbow MoonShadow Obvious exits: Alcove Into the Tree Around the Tree Clearing As the air outside warms, the sun begins to rise earlier and set later, leaving the nocturnal elves less time for their activities. Most are making their way back to their dens for a long sleep, but at least one remains. Tucked in the shade beneath the Father Tree, perhaps Strongbow has missed the rising of the sun. His wolf, the ruddy Kindle, sleeps at his side, overcome by a night of wolfish revelry. The archer, however, shows no sign of moving. He sits cross-legged, fletching supplies about him. A sharp knife skins hair-thin curls of wood from a potential arrow with unerring precision, each stroke just as far apart as the last. Resting on a soft piece of tanned hide are the troll-forged arrowheads and perfectly-shaped feathers for the fletching. Rillwhisper, too, is restless. She can't help but be so, given what lies in wrapstuff inside the same tree where she and her lifemates have their den. Fhen and Ynderra have been taking turns monitoring the presence of power roiling in Calmwind's cocoon-occupied den... and so far, the two junior treeshapers in the Holt have not had to struggle to suppress any further bursts of power. The wrapstuff cocoons remain undamaged, their occupants safely sealed away.... And yet, Rillwhisper remains restless. She comes pacing on near-silent feet around the side of the Father Tree, hair unbound and disheveled from the repeated shoving of her slender fingers through it. Something, she grumps at her herself. She needs something to do with her hands, if she can't manage to get to sleep... and so, when she does a double-take at finding the archer at work, the first words she sends are a gruffly offered, ** I, uh, don't suppose you need any help with that? ** He doesn't even look up, the smooth movements of the knife across the wood not faltering for a moment. Maybe the Archer didn't 'hear' the send? But after a few more curls fall into his lap, a handful of the non-shaved sticks are handed over. There is a long stretch of silence before he sends, ** So, you haven't gone off traipsing with humans. ** Rill's red-golden brows wing down low over her eyes, and weary irritation sparks within them before she makes herself haul it back, makes herself stand firm rather than whirl around and stalk back the way she'd come. It still takes her a few breaths, though, before she can decide whether to speak or send her answer; at last, she settles for sending, if nothing else because she's still in the habit of it around her soul-brother. Even when she's argued with him with force enough to singe the hair off a wolf's back. ** No, ** she answers, clipped and taut. ** I haven't. ** ** Good ** is the immediate reply. The arrow shaft is inspected, help up to his light brown eyes to make sure that it's straight. Another sliver is taken off before a notch is made at one end and an arrowhead taken up. Only then is Rillwhisper actually looked at. ** You look terrible. ** Well, he's never really been one for subtlety. ** Has it been that interesting while we were gone? ** One small corner of the Wolfbringer's mouth curls up, though the expression doesn't reach her exhausted eyes. ** Doreel's woods weren't exactly a nap, ** is her reply. Succintly, she summarizes, ** About three eights of spiders slain, I think ** -- and, at least for the moment, she decides to avoid mentioning that at least a couple of those giant spiders were slain by Arnos and Maerro -- ** before we finally had to take Doreel himself. And the elf he'd been mucking with. ** Well, if she intended to startle the elder, it's done. Hands still on the arrow and Strongbow blinks. And he blinks again. ** Take Doreel where? ** He can feel his hackles rise and his scent must have changed for Kindle actually wakes up and turns to look at her elf. ** You should have just burned the whole place... ** ** Woodhawk's not powerful enough to set an entire forest on fire, ** Rill answers tiredly, ** and you know it. Besides, it's not the forest's fault Doreel is crazy. As to where we took him... ** High Ones, he's not going to like this. But Rillwhisper doesn't bat an eye as she continues, ** Here. In wrapstuff. Ynderra couldn't heal him by herself and wanted Leetah's help. We've got the elf he was mucking with in wrapstuff, too. Fhen and Ynderra're busy making sure he doesn't do anything amusing with his power, and Ynderra's making sure he stays asleep. ** ** WHAT?! ** The archer jumps to his feet, startling the wolf and scattering the fletching supplies. He looks about, as if expecting to see the crazy elf...well, the -other- one...walking through the trees. Or maybe he's expecting to see one of the spiders...or a whole swarm of them. ** Are you mad?! Did you get bitten by the spiders?! ** Asleep...right. He looks up to his den, obviously sending to his lifemate, before he begins to pack up his things. ** You let your cub run with the Humans and now you've brought Doreel to the Holt. Are you -trying- to destroy us? ** Rillwhisper flinches visibly under the force of the sending, eyes slamming shut as it pierces her skull exactly as if he'd just shot her with one of those arrows. She manages not to stagger, but only just. And at last, hoarsely, gravely, she send-whispers, ** You know me better than that, soul-brother. But, fine. ** She turns then, stiffly, and adds, ** I'll take his cocoon out of the Holt and find somewhere else to guard him. If you have any recommendations about where I can put him where he's not going to be a danger to anyone else, I'm open to suggestions. ** If she takes him away, then he doesn't have to leave...that would be much better, actually. ** The bottom of the Vast Deep seems a good place to me. Or how about the middle of the desert. ** The archer's sending has let up in its force, but not its ferocity. ** How dare you endanger the Holt like that? ** Did Cutter sanction this? She can't keep sending, not when the archer's ire is sizzling through her mind and making it increasingly difficult to think, never mind send her own thoughts. She _can't_ keep sending, but Rillwhisper forces herself to do so anyway, a strained, hollowed thought hurled forth with as much strength as she can muster: ** I would think that you of all people would understand what it does to someone to kill an elf -- even a crazy elf! You want to rail at me for not having the strength to kill him -- _fine_, I've never pretended to have your strength... ** Rill whirls now, stalking away a few steps, because she can't make herself stay within arm's reach. Rubbing reflexively at her head, she barks out huskily, "I've got Fhen and Ynderra taking turns watching his magic to make sure it doesn't wake up. I've got Woodhawk, Trollkiller, and Nightwisp taking turns being ready to put an arrow into him if he so much as sends wrong, when I'm not there myself to keep a knife at his wrapstuffed throat until Ynderra and Leetah can put his stupid crazy brain back together and we can find out for sure he made the cursed monsters. You want to call this endangering the Holt... fine. I can't argue with you anymore, archer. I don't have the strength for that, either." Strongbow shakes his head, disbelieving that this is actually happening in -his- Holt. Bearclaw's spirit must be writhing wherever it is, ** Why don't you take that...that...-thing- that thinks he's an elf to Suntop. He -touched- the beast we caught. He'd know. Then you could be rid of him. ** His hands twitch briefly, as if wanting to somehow reach for his bow even though there's nothing to shoot. ** Consorting with Humans, paying visits to Winnowill...and now bringing that crazed elf here...has everyone lost their minds? ** Rillwhisper snorts, disdainfully. "Yes," she snaps, pivotting around again to face the taller elf, green eyes ablaze, "let's put a Firstborn who's out of his mind with loneliness into the _Palace_, where his power can be even stronger! Wise plan, there, archer! Great plan! Got any other plans you want to give me, or would you rather keep up insulting me, calling me crazy, and shouting at me for not stopping my cub from finding friends where she needs them -- yes, _friends, even if they _are_ Tall Ones, who, I might add, killed some of those giant spiders at my side? Who helped pay the cursed things back for what they did to _you_?" Her voice progressively rises, though it's hoarse with her exhaustion, and now she paces back and forth with each virulently snarled word. "But no, apparently you don't care about that. They're Tall Ones, so apparently they're evil even if their tribe had no idea what an elf was before they got here and never mind that they've treated my cub like an honored sister!" ** Suntop can leave the Palace. He's not chained there and his magic isn't dependent of the place... ** is growled mentally as Strongbow just glares at Rillwhisper. ** So. Because these Humans helped kill a few spiders I'm expected to forget the fact that they burned my Holt? That they murdered my tribesmates, my cub?! ** Some things just can't be lost to the Now. They fade, they get buried, but he has had centuried of this deep hatred. It's something very hard to shake. Crossing his arms at his chest, Strongbow stands firm, glaring at his soul-sister, ** Did you even consider how this would be endangering us? Or did you somehow decide that killing a few spiders makes it all right? ** ** _These_ humans _didn't_ _burn_ _the_ _Holt!_ ** Rillwhisper sends it, even though she's only exacerbating her own headache by doing so, enough to make tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. The archer could take it as a sign of weakness... but, well, the Wolfbringer is too tired to care. ** Do you think I've forgotten what Doreel did to us? To Trouble? Do you think I've forgotten that Tall Ones calling on Gotara have made war on us for longer than any of us can count? Timmorn's Blood, Strongbow, _think_ -- is there _any_ difference between calling all humans evil, even tribes that _don't_ make war on us and who treat us as friends, and calling all _elves_ evil because of what the Underworld and the Gliders have done? ** Nostrils flare, either in anger or in the attempt to pick up on the scents, perhaps trying to see what else Rillwhisper may be feeling that the send doesn't reveal. Scowling, his usual expression of late, Strongbow argues, ** It doesn't mean we have to welcome them into our Holt and our lives! Why can't you just leave them alone and let them go about their Human business? ** Sure, he'd like to rid the world of them because they've seen too much persecution by the Tall Ones...but if they stay away, that's good enough for him. Rillwhisper simply isn't as strong a sender as Strongbow; her mental shiels are not nearly so thick, either. Especially not now. Nor does she really _want_ to conceal her sentiments from him, though her hesitance resonates palpably through the connection between them. She _is_ holding herself back, at least mentally. Physically... she can't keep her distress out of her eyes. It's there, even if it's doggedly held in check by her determination. "You'll notice," she says then, resignedly, volume draining from her voice and taking it back down to a ragged whisper, "that there are no humans in the Holt. Wayfound hasn't brought them in. And she won't. Because she knows we elders remember." ** And they had better stay out of here. There's enough to deal with now that you brought Doreel here. ** Oh, the elder still isn't pleased about that. ** Why don't you take -him- out of the Holt too? Go dig a hole for him somewhere so we don't have to sit here, ready to flee if he decides to mess around with our heads. ** Of course, there's the unspoken thought that he could go see if Doreel is truly incapacitated... Rillwhisper's eyes close. "I said I'd take him out of the Holt," she rasps, "and I will. I've made him my responsibility, Strongbow, and as much as losing another Holt will be like cutting off my own arm, I'd rather do that than keep fighting with you." It's a stark, bleak admission, offered with no more subtlety than the archer's blunt assessment of her current looks. "I'll find somewhre to take him where this Holt won't be in danger, until I can find out for sure whether he made the monsters. I want him sane, because I want him to realize what he did to us, and what he did to that poor other elf we've got in wrapstuff. And if he doesn't regret it, I'll shove a knife through his heart myself." He's not a chief (yet) and he can't exile anyone...** If that elf causes anyone even hurt feelings, I'll put an arrow through him. ** Apparently, her argument and her honesty has caused at least a grudging acceptance. Strongbow actually moves, recollecting his supplies and wrapping them back up in the soft leather mat, ** If I so much as -see- a human from any point in the Holt, I will shoot. ** Rillwhisper could argue that her feelings have been blistered far more by the elf before her than by the one in wrapstuff. But she doesn't. Her eyes shadowed, she simply whispers, "Arnos is camping with Wayfound well away from any trees of ou..." She pauses, not entirely sure whether she can say 'ours'. That disquiets her, almost more than anything else in the argument. Hollowly, she finishes, "... of this Holt's. I'll go get Doreel's cocoon and leave with him immediately, so you won't have to shoot anyone." Hmmm...she didn't understand him, it seems. ** He can stay... ** is grudgingly explained, the archer not even looking up at Rillwhisper. He doesn't like the elf here, he doesn't like the potential for disaster, but...frustratingly enough, he can't do anything about it if Cutter said the beast could stay. Also, there's the fact that he doesn't want to kick his soul-sister from her home. "I haven't talked to Cutter." Strongbow hasn't mentioned the chief, but perhaps it's simply a sign of her bond with the fiery-tempered archer that Rillwhisper seems to sense the thought crossing his mind now. "Leetah, yes. Cutter, no. I should. And your idea to take Doreel to Suntop is good. If anybody can put a leash on the mad one's power, it's Suntop. Who knows. Maybe the Palace'll help untangle his head." She doesn't look at Strongbow either. There's a bit of comfort in his grudging concession... but only a bit, and there still lingers about the slender she-elf a palpable sense of holding herself braced for a coming blow with an arrow already in her. "I'll go stand guard on him till I can talk to Cutter." Strongbow actually gives a snort, **Good luck. The cub has it in his fool head that the Snake has something to do with this, even though Suntop said she didn't. So he's going to go pay the Mountain a visit. ** It's very clear from his send that he thinks this is a ridiculous idea. Standing once all of his things are gathered, he watches Rillwhisper for a moment before reaching to pull her into a tight embrace, ** I'm glad you're all right. ** To be embraced blatantly surprises her. Rillwhisper's form jolts with her astonishment, and so, truth be told, do her thoughts. But she rolls with the astonishment and past it, and readily slips her arms about the archer's taller frame. His scent is a comfort, something steady and unchanging and solid against a world that seems to her to have gone mad all over again; maybe later, she'll tell him of shoving a knife through Doreel already. Or of the bizarrity of seeing a human chieftain who towers over her and could break her in half beamingly offering her his own cubling to play with. Maybe later. For now, she just sends, small but soul-felt, ** And I, you. ** The archer has already had more than a few shocks today. More might just render him catatonic...or a raging ball of fury. Holding his soul-sister tightly he nuzzles the top of her head before letting go, ** As if we were in any danger. There was only one beast by the time we got there, the others had been taken care of. I'm glad we're back, I got bored. The Plains are awfully flat. ** Rillwhisper looks up again, her face still lined and exhausted... but now, at least, her eyes have lightened. Proferring a crooked smile, she inclines her head and agrees, "And nothing but grass between Sun-Goes-Up and Sun-Goes-Down. It'd bore me silly too." Tentatively, she squeezes her soul-brother's shoulder, before pulling back at last and drawing in a steadying breath. She doesn't say where she's going; she's already announced her intentions of what she will be spending the rest of the morning doing, and repetition is never needed with Strongbow. Nor does she say much of anything else, really; that's not needed, either. As the Wolfbringer steps away to take up guard over her Firstborn captive once more, the only farewell she offers is a briefly uplifted hand... and a final sending, weary but clear and true, that the archer is back where he belongs. [End log.]