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pedros-immaculate-vibes · 5 months

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A Peaceful Elf

Part XI

Halsin/Tav fanfic (slow burn, fluff, angst)

The rest of the day was spent preparing for a meal, espousing druidic philosophies, finding more common ground, and finding theories that put you at odds. You both managed to respect the differences and move on to other topics, but not before plenty of scowls, playful verbal jabs, and emphatic hand gestures. He spoke of his favorite studies, particularly those involving mindflayers, and you spoke of your previous interactions with the tentacled tyrants. A few times, you both seemed content not speaking at all, instead satisfied with reading, whittling, trying to grow the odd seedling or some other diversion.

Halsin had mentioned a creek nearby, not-so-subtly hinting you could use a visit to it, a few hours before dinner. You were irritated by the comment until you actually smelled yourself and realized he may have a point. Worst of all, you tried to draw a parallel, thinking he must reek to the high heavens by now, too, but he in fact just smelled like smoked cedar and earthy thyme. Godsdammit. You followed the directions he gave and made your way to find it, trying not to breath too deeply now that you were hyperaware of your own aroma.

The creek took no longer than a twenty minute walk to find and was as wide as you were tall, the deepest point reaching the crest of your hips. Crisp, the rushing water made your awareness razor sharp, helping you drink in every surrounding detail. It ran at the base of a cliff some two stories high, the face jagged and layered with vegetation and run-off moisture skittering down the dark grey rocks. The surface rippled like moving glass while the reflected fragments of sunlight danced across your still dry upper body. The babble combined with the birds was the closest to a symphony you could ever imagine being, and ever wanted to be. Squirrels flitted and flirted, jumping from bough to bough over your head, while a family of deer grazed at the very top of the cliff. You felt like you could run for hours as the cold shock bolted energy through your legs and into your chest, the sensation repeating the deeper you strode in. You thought about how much of the journey you were washing off in those minutes.

And then your thoughts circled back to him: the second day was ending, and your time with only him was limited. This had been a strange sort of respite from your worries and duties. You thought of the others, but not as often as you’d expected. These past few days had been almost a treat. After a few more minutes of scrubbing, you began floating down the current, thoughts washed farther down stream than you were interested in venturing. You could have done this for hours, and maybe you had. Time had seemed surreal the last two days. When you noticed the sky’s orange hue, you returned to where you had entered the stream, lying naked on the mossy bank sparse with new and dried wildflowers, soaking in every bit of glory the forest could muster. You felt more refreshed than you had since this whole debacle began, wondering when the last time you’d felt like this was.

One last dip, you smiled, and then it would be time to head back.

Shortly after redressing, you made your way back to the campsite, invigorated and relaxed, feeling like a glow encompassed you. The path back was easy to find, even in the dwindling daylight, due to the smell of supper. Halsin was still stirring the cauldron you all had taken from the goblin camp. Shadowheart had made sure to thoroughly scrub it clean, complaining that they could afford a new one, instead; specifically, one that hadn’t had dwarf leg probably boiled in it (your mouth had watered at the thought, but you hid it well).

—

Halsin informed the half-elf that dinner should take a bit longer, just about as long as it would take to finish his pipe. She sighed, dropping onto the dirt with a log propping her lower back up. Halsin continued stirring, pipe in mouth, seemingly content with the way things were transpiring. Bored and relaxed, Tav looked at Halsin’s pipe. “What on the Gods’ green land are you smoking all of the time?”

A crooked smile, “Something I tried growing with little success. I grew it from what I recollected of the Star Mount Root: the flavor, the effect. Given this soil and how greatly it varies from Star Mount, the result was less than perfect. Still calms my thoughts, though.”

“And why would your thoughts need calming, oh wise one?” She mocked.

A gleam entered his eyes as he stopped stirring and peered at her. Halsin took a few steps closer and leaned in. “Put that flapping maw of yours around this and take a few pulls. Tell me that doesn’t put things, like that worm in your head,” he tapped against her scalp with his index finger, “into perspective.” Halsin held out the pipe to her, the fire illuminating half of his face and flickering in his eye.

A doubtful look shone from her green eyes, but she did as he asked, puffing with suspicion.

“The stew has to thicken on its own for a bit,” he stated as he lowered himself to the ground a foot away from her, leaning against the same log. His elbows held up his now surprisingly relaxed shoulders as he looked at the coals that glowed along the edge of the fire pit. Halsin thought about how stiff he’d felt not two days before compared to this moment.

—

“I enjoyed a bit of that Mountain Star Root at the tiefling party that one night. This isn’t half bad,” she nodded, still chewing on the stem and working small clouds out of the pipe.

“Star Mount,” he corrected mildly, adding, “and what the tieflings had was most likely the true thing; a merchant selling the root had come through shortly before I went on my misadventure. This,” pointing to the pipe in your mouth, “is simply a poor elf’s imitation.” He seemed to forget to ask for it back as you both looked up at the stars. Another pleasant silence with the firewood cracking in the background.

“Do you have people out there somewhere? Family? Friends?” It occurred to you that you had no idea who the elf’s kin was or where they were. While you all had traipsed around the grove, deciding how to proceed, many of the locals had spoken of Halsin with regard and warmth, but none had claimed him as a relative.

A dry laugh, “You’re not a doppelgänger, are you? Trying to study me, learn all my secrets so you can take my place? I felt like I was being interrogated about philosophy earlier.”

“Halsin,” you prodded, “stop stalling and tell me.” You turned to face him, the log now under your right elbow as you gently but petulantly pushed his arm. “It’s important to know where a person comes from, whether they stay in touch with their roots or not. I’ve been thinking about that more, lately,” you trailed off.

He saw that the question struck at something serious within you, and his tone sobered. ��Save for me, my line perished a long time ago.”

“Oh.” Now you felt like an asshole. You took the pipe out and held it in your lap.

“They rest in High Forest now, near the shade of the Grandfather Tree. The grove became my family, Silvanus my teacher, and now, I have,” he reached down and flicked at the toe of your boot, “…you.” A light-hearted yet careful smile shone as he kept his eyes on the fire.

It was such a sweet and honest gesture, you had no idea how to react to it in real time. Any and all thoughts regarding that last statement were muddled quite beyond comprehension, so you did what you always do and addressed something else.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The bit of brightness at his last sentence flickered to something wistful. “It was a long time ago. The wounds don’t heal, but they become more bearable,” he said with an open-hearted manner. “And you? Have you any family you’re eager to return to?”

You looked down at your boot that had recently been flicked, and wondered why you felt hollow at the question when posed to yourself. “I…I don’t know. I’ve heard a little bit about what I did or used to be before the nautiloid, but, I don’t know who would miss me,” you slid back to your original position, staring at the fire, wishing you could feel something besides emptiness at thought.

“I’m quite sure your absence has been noted and mourned, Tav.” Your name coming from his lips was—it made you feel something again. You hadn’t noticed he was no longer staring at the embers. “No doubt they are beside themselves at this very moment.”

“…You think?” Still only looking ahead, imagining what family could raise such a violent child.

“…I know.”

You smiled softly. A shiver ran down your spine, much like it had not two nights ago; much like that same night, Halsin wouldn’t let it go without solving your discomfort in some regard. That was just who he was.

“Would you like that blanket?”

“No, I’m fine.” Another breeze, another shiver.

“Tav, if there was a river longer than the Chionthar—come over here, at least no cold winds will get past me.” A grumble escaped your lips as you scootched over. Gods, he’s warm. He stretched his left arm along the length of the log behind you. “May I?”

You realized he was asking for the pipe you still had in your lap, the root growing cold.

“Oh! My bad, I hope it’s not out.”

“If it is, that can be easily remedied,” he replied, taking the pipe from your hand, inspecting it. It had, in fact, gone out. A light sigh escaped his frame. “Is there any chance you have a lighting cantrip of some sort? While I could approach the fire, I’m quite comfortable here.”

You felt your stomach somersault at the almost off-hand statement as you snapped your fingers, a small, white-blue flame alighting at the tip of your index finger.

A pause upon seeing the flame, “Am I to assume you could have done that this entire time, but instead chose to watch me fool with coals and flint and steel?” An almost flat tone with the small exception of exasperation you kept bringing out of this usually-patient druid.

“You never asked,” a coy smile. He tipped the bowl down to you as you set it to smoldering again.

“Unbelievable.”

A chuckle that feigned innocence, “What! You seemed so proud of your ability to make fire when there was none. Who am I to rob you of such a satisfying opportunity?”

You both sat there lost in thought, warmth and the smell of the almost-finished stew wafting throughout the camp. This could be your last night in a quiet camp. You could reach up to his face right now and see if—

No. There was still something holding him back. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t push him. You’d respect whatever it was. Perhaps, it was someone who wasn’t kin that he’d left at the grove… But that wasn’t your business and you were no where near brave enough to ask if he was a single elf or act on any information that lead to the affirmative.

This was enough.

Maybe it’s Nettie. Your thoughts began sifting through every single person who had spoken fondly of the elf. Rath seemed to think the sun shone out of his ass…but then again, that might just be because Kagha in comparison was an absolute nightmare.

Or maybe he just doesn’t trust me. That seemed possible. You couldn’t remember who you were before the crash and a significant portion of your one-on-one interactions involved you ravaging living creatures like a thing possessed.

People could be kind and warm and compassionate to a peer without trust. Compassion was an outward act; trust involved letting the other person in. Maybe that was it.

“Stew’s just about done, I believe. Try to stay warm without me for a moment,” he remarked. You could have thrown your boot at him if it didn’t mean catching cold feet. He stirred the cauldron, took in the aroma, judged the stew within, and grunted in satisfaction. Ladling out four bowls, he handed one to you, one to the cub, and one to Scratch. Before sitting, he asked if you’d rather enjoy your supper in the tent.

“I’ve spent enough time in there for a while, I like the fresh air and the view,” you said as you peered up at the night sky.

“Fair enough,” as he sat back down next to you. “You know, the children used to nestle next to me as a bear at the grove when it was cold enough. I’m quite used to being the wind breaker and the warmest spot besides the fire.” He took a spoonful of stew, then looked puzzled. “Come to think of it, the children weren’t much smaller than yourself. Perhaps, it’s a size problem.”

You scoffed and punched his arm, realizing just how resilient that muscle was. You essentially just tried to make a dent in a tree trunk.

He snickered.

Settling back into your spot, you enjoyed your stew. You were much warmer now.

***

The third day began peacefully.

You and Halsin grounded yourselves separately to your deities, shared a light breakfast, then decided to patrol a bit farther out from the usual route around camp. Privately, you had wanted to go with him as back up, considering the mess he got into last time; outwardly, you had said you could use the exercise to keep your leg from getting stiff with disuse.

The walk consisted of more talks regarding druidic core theologies and practices and how they aligned with ethics (something you both had a strong interest in). You agreed over most of the concepts—except for one, a core tenet. It had come up before, but you’d let it go in favor of finding more mutually agreed upon topics.

“If Silvanus is about balance, who are we to act as judges? We’re not omniscient and can’t possibly know what the true balance is.”

“Silvanus gives us the freedom to act as we see fit in the moment; he knows we are limited in our understanding and corrects the imbalances outside of our purview.”

“But that just seems negligent; if he wants something to remain balanced, he would balance it himself and not allow mere mortals or fae to command ANY kind of power over the situation. Silvanus doesn’t seem to have thought this through to the end, for someone who prides themselves on something as esoteric and vital as balance.”

Your increasingly critical mood stemmed partly from the anxious swirl in your gut, expecting the rest of the party would return that day.

It also branched from the elf’s unrelenting loyalty to a concept you couldn’t reconcile with your own logic. He relied on a purity of faith that something inside you recoiled from. It wasn’t a blind faith like some religions had demanded; Silvanus regularly proved his potency. But something in your being withdrew from that kind of piety. Maybe Halsin isn’t the only one with trust issues… you pondered as he helped you over a fallen tree.

And yet another reason for your frustration was the ever present and unending tension between the two of you. While it was very pleasant most of the time, it still held you taught.

This walk had collected all of those weighty thoughts and set them to brewing with little else to distract you.

“Perhaps, you are too young to understand this kind of faith, currently. It stifled me in my youth, to be certain. It was not until I reached about 200 years of age that I began to appreciate it.”

“Sir, I am essentially the same emotional and intellectual age as you; you may have a few centuries more experience, but don’t talk to me like I’m about to be late for my druidic summons class.” The hairs on your neck were tingling as your temper began to flare. “Have you considered that those centuries have stifled your flexibility of thought?” That’ll stir something besides a patronizing comment.

He rooted himself to the spot next to you and turned at the waist, leaning down and focusing intently on you. “I believe I am quite flexible,” voice low and eyes alight with flirtatious innuendo.

Your stomach dropped but your face betrayed nothing this time. You held his gaze as if it were a plaything in the palm of your hand; an almost tangible challenge hanging in the air.

He rose to full height once more, not interested in taking the bait. “What you lack is proper training.” He continued along the grassy knoll you’d both stopped on, not swayed to return to camp simply because you challenged his beliefs and convinced you were still interested carrying on. “I may not follow The Lady of the Forest, but she and Silvanus have some similarities, and faithful dedication to any of them seems to fall within the same kind of pattern.” It was then that he’d noticed you hadn’t kept walking.

He turned.

You stood, tired of the mild condescension, the tension, the talk of philosophies, lives lead (you knowing almost nothing of yours beyond the last few weeks) and lack of anything to sink your claws into. You realized you had become restless, but only as it reached a fever pitch. Your muscles twitched.

“Coming from the druid who has trouble keeping his subordinates trained and loyal.”

That struck a very obvious nerve as his face briefly crumpled into a dark scowl, a shimmer flickered over his eyes. “Are you questioning my skill as a leader and guide to those under my supervision?”

“I question everything, you should know that after these past few days. Proof sets my belief in place.” You said it with a purr that, if listened to closely, concealed a very sharp snarl.

“Ah, a cynic,” his eyes swept to the ground, an entertained but not mirthful smile painting his face. He squared his shoulders back. “Then how about we test my skill as a healer and see how well that leg holds up in a match,” his gaze flat as he met your eyes. “Perhaps it will help ease the obvious ache from all of your unused energy.”

The air between you shifts. Something in your chest laughs and you hear it escape your lips; it sounds almost cruel and it worries you. Trying to conceal it, you offer to mend anything of his you are about to break.

A single scoff as he braces himself, like a tree deepening its roots.

You careen toward him, eclipsing the few yards between the two of you almost immediately. You feign an interest in landing a blow with your right fist and forearm to his chest; as expected, he braces both arms perpendicularly to his chest, protecting himself from your hit. He’s humoring your first attack.

His mistake, a melodic thought echoes through your mind. Your momentum helps bring your left arm behind him, twisting you around him like waves around a ship, allowing your left fist to make contact with where you assume his kidneys are.

A grunt.

You grin.

You allow the momentum to take you a few feet farther, grabbing a birch within your path and whipping your weight around it, redirecting your speed back toward Halsin. He had planned to catch you in your seemingly powerless path away from him; he had not planned on catching your feet straight to his chest with your full body weight behind them.

Another grunt.

You cackle as you immediately pushed off his stalwart chest, only to be caught by the ankle and flung toward the treetops. Oh, I must be annoying him, you think as you use thorn whip to once again redirect your weight onto a nearby branch. You perch like a dog, eying a bone. A wicked grin stretched across your face as you think of what would unbalance the Druid best when you see him steel himself once more, spying you. “There’s very little you can do from up there,” he states, perfectly composed.

“You’re right,” you agree back down toward him. You can see him angle his left foot behind him in the ground, preparing for your landing. That’s cute, you chuckle as you angle and propel yourself from the limb. At the last second, you shift into a rothe in midair, pummeling him like a juggernaut. The look on your companion’s face is priceless. He is blasted a few yards away as your form shifts back to a half-elf, landing gracefully on your knees and fist. Your timing is uncanny. It would have been noticed and probably appreciated by the druid, if he wasn’t buried in an old tree trunk that was currently cracking as it keeled off to one side.

You leap forward, ready for a physical rejoinder. Instead, you see a trickle of blood drip down his lip. Something inside you falters.

“That was dirty,” he rasps, extricating himself from the falling tree. “We can play dirty,” now free and dusting himself off. “We can be absolutely filthy.”

Suddenly, he was gone. Your senses flare, feeling the ground tremor behind you slightly—right before you’re hurled forward. Amused, you realize he used misty step and had, literally, kicked your ass. You fell forward into a tumble and pushed up on your feet, twisting and propelling your legs sideways to sweep his legs as he followed you.

Your legs make contact. Nothing but an ache ripples through them as he remains, unmoved. He chuckles darkly. He reaches to grab you when you shift into a mouse and leap onto his shoulder, then off behind him, kicking him down in midair again.

He was sturdy, but you were lithe.

You cast entangle and temporarily pin him to the ground, only to have him simply flex and snap half of the vines. It did give you time to distance yourself from him, though. Close combat seemed to be in his favor.

Unfortunately, the distance did very little as he changes into a wolf, three times your shape’s size, and closes in on you almost instantly.

You were between a tree and a druid, who had shifted back to his form as he pinned you to the bark, one hand on each wrist. In a flash, he pinned them both above you, and held them with one hand while his free hand held your throat.

Moments ticked by.

They were only measured by deep, shaken inhales and exhales from both of you.

Your chests heaved.

His eyes were almost wild with delight and satisfaction; they traced down your face to your lips, to your jawline.

This close, you see his eyes shimmer golden again as his features melted into a look drunk with the thought of pleasure. His grip on your wrists and throat melted away, his left hand now cradling your right forearm, his right hand moved to the left side of your jaw; gently, gently.

“It would be so easy,” almost pleading as he brushed his thumb up against your cheek, an anguish in his eyes.

“What would?” You gasped.

“To be with…” he began whispering, absent-mindedly looking at your parted lips.

Until he caught himself in your eyes.

Down came the wall.

“Enough!” He tore his hands away, clenching them into fists, looking away.

“…Enough.” He flexed his palms wide at his sides, beginning to turn and leave, clearly shaken. He stammered, “We need—we need to get back. The others, they—should return today.” He was breathless.

His defenses were up once more. You wanted to respect it. You needed to respect it. He deserved at least that, after everything.

But he was the only one who you could drop any pretense of martyrdom or hard-headedness around and still feel safe. You felt that you didn’t give him the same gift, no matter how badly you wanted him to feel completely at ease in your presence. Something was always in the way, and it wasn’t your business, but—

You braced yourself, focusing any remnants of the fight still left in you.

“I’m sure I’ll regret saying something so…so foolhardy to you later, but right now…right now all I want is for you to trust me. I know I’m the main reason we haven’t gotten to the Underdark, I know I’m the reason you haven’t gotten to the shadow cursed lands yet. And its killing you to wait for us,” you held in the tears that began welling up from the stress of expressing something so vulnerable. You’d die before you cried in front of him over something like this. “I don’t know what else I’ve done or could have done to make you think I’m trying to do what seems like it’s best for everyone, including you. I just…I wish there was another way for you to feel like you could trust me.”

He had stopped walking as soon as you began speaking. He pivoted sharply, confused. “Trust you? What do you mean?”

“Every time you change the subject on these shadows we’re headed to, every time I feel—I feel something with you, and—and godsdammit, I may not have particularly good insight into people, but I think you feel it too, something slams down over it like a portcullis. It’s not my place to demand that you tell me what’s going on in your head—”

“No, it is not.” Down came the wall.

You faltered; but, you had started this and would see it through. There was no other option this time. “I know that,” you glared in response, hoping the anger you portrayed would give you enough emotional momentum to continue. You closed the distance, holding the glare as you moved forward. “I just wish I knew what I had to do so that you felt like you could. You’re…something different!” You shouted, frustrated to the brink of being speechless. “I can’t describe it, there’s just something about you that I haven’t felt before. And it scares and confuses and delights me,” you laughed, sounding out of your mind for a moment. “I just wish I could—you could…that I could earn your trust. If there’s something I can do—”

“There is nothing you can do, because this does not involve you.” He rasped again, his voice held invisible weight that hung in the air.

The forest was silent except for the gap between the two of you, yawning loudly with things unsaid.

“It involves me, my failings, those I left behind. I can’t—I can’t move on,” he began to slowly walk straight toward you, looking down. “I don’t deserve to forget or move on until I can right what I’ve already ruined,” his voice began to shrink to almost a whisper, as if he meant for the words to be heard only by him. He stalked toward you as he looked up and met your eyes. You backed up, only to be stopped within a few paces by the tree he’d just pinned you to.

“I can’t lose focus again,” he continued, as if he was arguing with a force you couldn’t see. And losing.

Merely feet away, he shifted from entrenched in an internal war to weary, and put his hand against the ancient tree inches above your shoulder. He hunched, head sagging, “I can’t…do this. I am still needed,” almost a broken intonation. He raised his head to meet your eyes, and you held them in your own. “And I will endeavor to the end to correct the curse. That does not mean I will succeed; it means if I fail, it will be the end of me.” A combination of grief and longing swirled through his eyes.

You reached your hand to his face like you had when he was injured, and cupped his cheek in your palm.

“You don’t need to do this alone.” A pleading whisper, “please don’t do this alone. You carry such a burden that you can’t even tell me, surely you must need to rest somehow. Can I be there, to ease the weight?”

He leaned heavily into your palm, still gazing at your face as if you were the cure to the curse. “I lost sight of my responsibility while I stayed in the grove; I flourished while the curse continued. I can’t…” he leaned closer.

“Lose…” closer.

“Focus…” his forehead rested softly against yours. His eyes closed, relinquishing any power he had to decide the best way forward into your hands. The elf was spent.

He trusted you.

He told you what he needed to do, what he couldn’t do, the reason he couldn’t follow through with the bond you two clearly shared.

And he trusted you to honor his wishes as he stood there, head against yours, the slimmest breadth of space between your bodies as you still stood pressed against the tree trunk.

His warm breath flowed down onto your still heaving chest, and you closed your eyes. The only way you could muster enough will for this was to divert all focus to processing the moment. And processing in the moment was not a strong suit.

“I—” you placed a hand on his chest and he shuddered ever so lightly. Your resolve almost dissipated with that one response.

You shook your head, and gently pushed him away with one hand, brushing the hair away from his face with the other.

“And I won’t be the reason you do.”

Confusion and a tinge of pain filtered across his face.

“I am here to be your ear,” you said quietly, repeating what he had promised early on, “as you bear your burdens, and the arms that protect you,” you both smiled a little at the thought, “if you can shoulder them no more.” You stood still a few heartbeats longer.

“And that is all I will be to you,” your hand retreated and he leaned into the void that it left. “For now,” your hands finally returned to your sides. “Until we defeat the curse or perish in the endeavor.”

—

His eyes saw you, and only you. How had he ended up in the company of someone so kind? And sweet. And intoxicating. And stubborn. And—

His thoughts ended there as he found himself against Tav, cradling her face in both hands, sharing the kiss he’d wanted for what felt like months.

There was nothing around them, no heavens or hells, no threats or treasures except for the single one he held now. It was like waking beneath a sunbeam. He framed the moment, the feel of her silken lips on his, her smell, her silhouette melting against his, and her arms beginning to wrap around his neck as he wrapped his around her waist. The feeling of having someone he could lean into. After all these years.

Halsin slowly moved back, leaning his head against hers, once more, and held both her hands in his.

“Until then.”

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