Ulric made his way down stirring halls in the early dawn's light. The Twins had only just started to crest above the distant horizon of Iriel's forested hills, casting the frost in golden light. The mixture of warm pinks and oranges in the sky contrasted magnificently with the dense, crystalline frost that lie thick on branches. Unlike the day before, there were already Elves up and moving through the halls. They were preparing for happenings it would seem. Ulric thought he recognized some of the craftsmen from pavilions through which he'd roamed during his previous days. He still got the odd look every now and then from Elves who seemed surprised to see a human in their halls but such glances were brief as they recognized him. Easy to recognize the only Human for a solid five hundred clicks, especially when he was maybe a head taller than most all of them.
The baths were their usual steamy perfection. Ulric soaped, scrubbed, and then soaked letting the tension in his form leave him. There were only a few of the natives at this hour, most preferred to bathe in the evening, after the rigors of the day. In Ulric's mind, why not before and after? Por que no los dos? Surely the glory of this place should not be worshipped a mere once a day.
After a calming hour, he was ready to return to his rooms and see about a meal. Perhaps he could gather some intel on what exactly was going to be happening during this festival Brighteyes had spoken of with such anticipation. He entered his rooms to find Geyrt almost lovingly stroking his bowstave.
Get your minds out of the gutters, the lot of you.
She jerked upright and let the bow clatter to the floor as if burned. The reddish hue in the tips of her ears made obvious her shame at having been caught with the goods. It brought to mind that Ulric had destroyed her own bow during their fight and Brighteyes had mentioned that she was fond of the thing.
Chance! Ulric might be able to bank some goodwill which he was going to blow doing or saying something criminally stupid at an inevitable time in the future if he got her a bow to replace her old one. Best to play it slow though he didn't want to push her when she might be defensive, as her now familiar glare indicated she might be.
"Good morn Geyrt, I hope you were able to enjoy your family gathering. I met your father this morning he was enthusiastic about the day to come." Ulric greeted in his still barely adequate Elvish.
The frown was replaced with a neutral expression as if she'd forgiven him his ambush of her in his own rooms.
"And to you Glade Chief, it was a bittersweet day, as it always is. Especially so in these times with the conflict ahead looming. I must thank you, myself, for giving me this time to be with them. It was with dread that I awaited this day when Lumyt'seit was missing." Geyrt responded, actually sounding not so irritable.
She was fidgeting too, something that she didn't do much of that Ulric had noticed. Clearly, the lady had something on her mind so Ulric took a chair and decided to wait her out. His patient consideration actually seemed to make her even antsier. It didn't take long for her to break, unable to withstand basic courtesy overlong without finding a way to display her thorns.
"You were not here when I arrived, it is no easy thing to fulfill my duties when you go haring off before the suns are even risen, so I waited. I see now you were soaking in the baths again, it is a surprise that you don't just put your bed there." She grumbled in what Ulric was learning to recognize was an attempt to deflect him through orneriness.
Instead of taking the bait he merely continued his passive observation, having decided that whatever her actual problem was they'd be coming to it before long. Silence could prove as adept an instrument of browbeating as sarcasm. It was working, if the twitch in her ears was anything to go by. She apparently noticed him noticing because they stilled so suddenly that she might as well have yelled. It only took a few moments of withstanding his steady gaze for the cracks in her demeanor to show. Instead of open hostility though this odd paragon of Iriel'en virtue turned away from him entirely, showing her back before speaking.
"I am sorry, Glade Chief. I have…forgotten…to thank you for returning Lumyt'seit to us. It was difficult for me, for all of us, to face the thought of another lost brother a lost son to foreigners. That is no excuse for my behavior or my attack and what followed. I am poorly suited to such a role as Shadow. I have had little interest in anything that did not involve being a Hunter for my people for many decades and those attitudes will not change with a few turns of the Twins. My Mothers Shor and Bathe reminded me of this and my responsibilities to be…less harsh…while you were learning from Mother Vedyr. I will try to improve, and thank you, that is all I had to say." his Shadow concluded sounding almost lost at times.
Poorly suited, now that was the understatement of the year. Might as well say that sand is unsuited for machine lubricant. He couldn't deny that he felt a little better for her acknowledging how utterly abrasive she could be, even if it had taken her Mothers to set her to rights. Kettles couldn't call pots black though. Ulric couldn't honestly say how he would respond to having his entire life turned into a service to a stranger, let alone one with whom he'd had a near-fatal grudge. Empathy was hard but he'd try to keep a gentle hand dealing with his Shadow. Being a hundred-plus year old meant some habits were going to die hard.
"Your apology is accepted. I do not expect you to become some kind of model for whatever makes a perfect Shadow, certainly not in the bare few days we've been here. So long as you're trying as hard to make things work smoothly as I am I'll be satisfied. As far as Brighteyes is concerned, it was the right thing to do and I am glad it is done. Now, I see that you are absent a bow and I am afraid that it is my fault. I am obligated to provide for your kit and that means finding you a replacement for your weapon. Take the bowstave I brought to use for negotiations, I will be teaching your bowyers how to make more of them soon enough. I would rather you have it to use than for it to sit idle propped against my apartment wall." Ulric said, hoping he wasn't stepping on her toes somehow, now that she'd settled down.
It was going to be on him, to a certain extent, to help this young, according to Deep Woods Elf standards, woman adjust to her new position. Think of it like onboarding a fresh engineer, Ulric told himself. They know a bunch but they can't do anything right, yet, and you have to help them get comfortable or they'll just get in the way. Sometimes you had to throw them a bone, and give them a win to find the courage to take another day in the meat grinder. Perhaps getting a fancy new bow would be the lift the Young Lady Iriel needed.
Ulric knew he wouldn't be handling such a shift with anything close to as much grace. For one thing, there'd probably be way more cursing. So, he could handle the dirty looks and the pissy tone while she figured things out. Just so long as she was down for being on the receiving end of some sarcastic commentary, he wasn't Saint Einar the peace crafter over here. He would, however, do his best to be slightly less of an asshole if at all possible. Should be workable, the educational program he'd been handed was robust and he'd have little time for planting barbs on top of everything else.
Geyrt was clearly conflicted regarding the bow. Desire warred with pride across her face, and she looked from the instrument to him several times while whatever odd thoughts roiled around beneath her hair. Eventually, she made a decision and bent to take up the bone and glue laminated steel wood stave. Standing she ran her hands across its smooth surface appreciatively. As well as she should, Ulric had sanded it fine with incrementally smoother stones over the course of many hours. A very light flame treatment burned off the wood dust as he went and made it more resistant to the influence of moisture, though not completely impenetrable. That was where the glassresin finish coat came into play. Exceedingly thin, brushed on by a fine fur cloth. Heat glassresin nugget, rub the stave, wipe with fur. Rinse and repeat until a smooth coat was formed. Sand it down again with the smoothest stone to achieve a final product. That bow was a source of great pride for him. Best not to let that show though, she was already having trouble.
Not poking fun at her for lusting after his wood was already causing potential internal bleeding. Damn it! He'd tried so hard not to reach for the low-hanging fruit. Some temptations Oh Watcher, are far too great.
"String is right over there in the pack, right on top. [Forest Lord] sinew so it won't ever break as far as I know. Give it a pull and see if it works for you." Ulric suggested, clearing the litany of sarcastic jokes and dry observations that would ruin any and all attempts at being a decent person.
She hesitated only a little before digging out the braided sinew chord and stringing the bow with difficulty. She was as unprepared for the resistance as had been Sinna, Bald'rt's guard who had attempted its draw during his demo. With a more concentrated effort, Geyrt worked the string backward a few times to limber the cold stave and then brought it up smoothly to a full draw, imagined arrow held in fingers that pressed into her chin. His Shadow held the draw, unshaking, for a full count of ten in Ulric's mind, a fairly impressive feat of strength. He knew how much it took to hold that thing like that too well and he'd have to ratchet up his impressions of her athleticism. A forceful expulsion of held breath accompanied her controlled relaxation of the string. She was in love, Ulric could tell.
"…It is an acceptable bow Ulric Glade Chief. Yes, very acceptable. Not a gift though, we are both in agreement. A replacement for my own weapon was needed and you have done your duty to see it set to rights. I will use this bow in place of my own, as part of my service." Geyrt said with pretend nonchalance, belied by her inability to stop running her fingers over the glossy surface of the weapon.
If this dark beauty were a normal person, she'd be giggling instead of faking dispassion. Brighteyes and his joy over a mask came to Ulric's mind. Sometimes being nice was nice. Especially if it made his life with her around even slightly more pleasant. Now don't fuck it up, like you always do, Einar, he warned himself.
"The draw, Glade Chief, you were able to manage it?" Asked his Shadow, looking at him with slight skepticism.
Hey now! Ulric felt a little insulted. Manage it? He'd hunted beast and man with it. Hell, he'd put six arrows on target from sixty meters away and done it fast enough to make a fast-shot team. Manage it, the nerve of her. Clearly, the woman wasn't trying to be insulting though so Ulric just set her straight.
"Lady I don't mean to brag, but I'm a damn good shot with that bow. That bow is more than half the reason I was even able to get Brighteyes out from under those dickhat poachers." He told his Shadow without even the slightest exaggeration.
"From about the door to these apartments to the far end of the hall I put an arrow through the heart of one guy standing guard, another through the head of a guy just a few meters closer, and another three into targets that were moving all in maybe half a minute. Trust me, I can handle the draw." He said laughing.
Geyrt stilled suddenly, her skeptical twerk of eyebrows turning into a near-expressionless mask.
"This is the same bow you used to save Youngest Brother Lumyt'seit?" She asked, voice heavy with some emotion Ulric couldn't identify by tone.
Had he stepped on a landmine? Ulric hoped there wasn't some Comanche blood rite involved with swapping weapons that was going to torpedo this little path to peace. The damned [Forest Lord] core had backfired marvelously on him.
"Please do not fuck me on this", he prayed silently to any passing divinities that might take pity on a foolish man, before he gave her his reply.
"That it is Geyrt, that it is. And, happy as I was with it, I think it's got a better master in your hands. I'll get another when your folk figure out the crafting process." He told her reassuringly.
Looking down at the bow in her hands with something close to worship she closed her eyes for a moment. Was he losing his mind or was there moisture in her eyes? Ok, the day Geyrt Iriel cries is the day He'd sound the horn for the end of times himself.
Ulric felt like he should give her some space. He wasn't a sentimental type, and the Elves didn't come off that way either, especially not this one before him. When in doubt, shut your mouth, he recommended to himself and so he just studied the floor for a minute.
"This is a weapon that has avenged my kin, Ulric. You do not share our customs, you would not know this but such things are not done lightly. Normally it would mean a commitment between Hunters to slay each other's enemies. A pact. We are already committed thus, your enemies are always my enemies now. Even so, I gladly will use this bow to end any threats. Thank you, I will take care of this Blinder and put it to work on your behalf." His Shadow spoke solemnly.
Blinder? Oh, the bow, Ulric realized. She was naming the bow. He wondered, why Blinder? Curiosity was taking at least three lives from this cat.
"If you don't mind me asking, why call it Blinder?" He asked gently.
Geyrt's lips turned up in a fierce grin and her eyes glittered emerald.
"Because it brings forever darkness to all who face it, Glade Chief." She promised, and that was why Ulric was glad that this murder machine was now on his side.
Ulric made his way down stirring halls in the early dawn's light. The Twins had only just started to crest above the distant horizon of Iriel's forested hills, casting the frost in golden light. The mixture of warm pinks and oranges in the sky contrasted magnificently with the dense, crystalline frost that lie thick on branches. Unlike the day before, there were already Elves up and moving through the halls. They were preparing for happenings it would seem. Ulric thought he recognized some of the craftsmen from pavilions through which he'd roamed during his previous days. He still got the odd look every now and then from Elves who seemed surprised to see a human in their halls but such glances were brief as they recognized him. Easy to recognize the only Human for a solid five hundred clicks, especially when he was maybe a head taller than most all of them.
The baths were their usual steamy perfection. Ulric soaped, scrubbed, and then soaked letting the tension in his form leave him. There were only a few of the natives at this hour, most preferred to bathe in the evening, after the rigors of the day. In Ulric's mind, why not before and after? Por que no los dos? Surely the glory of this place should not be worshipped a mere once a day.
After a calming hour, he was ready to return to his rooms and see about a meal. Perhaps he could gather some intel on what exactly was going to be happening during this festival Brighteyes had spoken of with such anticipation. He entered his rooms to find Geyrt almost lovingly stroking his bowstave.
Get your minds out of the gutters, the lot of you.
She jerked upright and let the bow clatter to the floor as if burned. The reddish hue in the tips of her ears made obvious her shame at having been caught with the goods. It brought to mind that Ulric had destroyed her own bow during their fight and Brighteyes had mentioned that she was fond of the thing.
Chance! Ulric might be able to bank some goodwill which he was going to blow doing or saying something criminally stupid at an inevitable time in the future if he got her a bow to replace her old one. Best to play it slow though he didn't want to push her when she might be defensive, as her now familiar glare indicated she might be.
"Good morn Geyrt, I hope you were able to enjoy your family gathering. I met your father this morning he was enthusiastic about the day to come." Ulric greeted in his still barely adequate Elvish.
The frown was replaced with a neutral expression as if she'd forgiven him his ambush of her in his own rooms.
"And to you Glade Chief, it was a bittersweet day, as it always is. Especially so in these times with the conflict ahead looming. I must thank you, myself, for giving me this time to be with them. It was with dread that I awaited this day when Lumyt'seit was missing." Geyrt responded, actually sounding not so irritable.
She was fidgeting too, something that she didn't do much of that Ulric had noticed. Clearly, the lady had something on her mind so Ulric took a chair and decided to wait her out. His patient consideration actually seemed to make her even antsier. It didn't take long for her to break, unable to withstand basic courtesy overlong without finding a way to display her thorns.
"You were not here when I arrived, it is no easy thing to fulfill my duties when you go haring off before the suns are even risen, so I waited. I see now you were soaking in the baths again, it is a surprise that you don't just put your bed there." She grumbled in what Ulric was learning to recognize was an attempt to deflect him through orneriness.
Instead of taking the bait he merely continued his passive observation, having decided that whatever her actual problem was they'd be coming to it before long. Silence could prove as adept an instrument of browbeating as sarcasm. It was working, if the twitch in her ears was anything to go by. She apparently noticed him noticing because they stilled so suddenly that she might as well have yelled. It only took a few moments of withstanding his steady gaze for the cracks in her demeanor to show. Instead of open hostility though this odd paragon of Iriel'en virtue turned away from him entirely, showing her back before speaking.
"I am sorry, Glade Chief. I have…forgotten…to thank you for returning Lumyt'seit to us. It was difficult for me, for all of us, to face the thought of another lost brother a lost son to foreigners. That is no excuse for my behavior or my attack and what followed. I am poorly suited to such a role as Shadow. I have had little interest in anything that did not involve being a Hunter for my people for many decades and those attitudes will not change with a few turns of the Twins. My Mothers Shor and Bathe reminded me of this and my responsibilities to be…less harsh…while you were learning from Mother Vedyr. I will try to improve, and thank you, that is all I had to say." his Shadow concluded sounding almost lost at times.
Poorly suited, now that was the understatement of the year. Might as well say that sand is unsuited for machine lubricant. He couldn't deny that he felt a little better for her acknowledging how utterly abrasive she could be, even if it had taken her Mothers to set her to rights. Kettles couldn't call pots black though. Ulric couldn't honestly say how he would respond to having his entire life turned into a service to a stranger, let alone one with whom he'd had a near-fatal grudge. Empathy was hard but he'd try to keep a gentle hand dealing with his Shadow. Being a hundred-plus year old meant some habits were going to die hard.
"Your apology is accepted. I do not expect you to become some kind of model for whatever makes a perfect Shadow, certainly not in the bare few days we've been here. So long as you're trying as hard to make things work smoothly as I am I'll be satisfied. As far as Brighteyes is concerned, it was the right thing to do and I am glad it is done. Now, I see that you are absent a bow and I am afraid that it is my fault. I am obligated to provide for your kit and that means finding you a replacement for your weapon. Take the bowstave I brought to use for negotiations, I will be teaching your bowyers how to make more of them soon enough. I would rather you have it to use than for it to sit idle propped against my apartment wall." Ulric said, hoping he wasn't stepping on her toes somehow, now that she'd settled down.
It was going to be on him, to a certain extent, to help this young, according to Deep Woods Elf standards, woman adjust to her new position. Think of it like onboarding a fresh engineer, Ulric told himself. They know a bunch but they can't do anything right, yet, and you have to help them get comfortable or they'll just get in the way. Sometimes you had to throw them a bone, and give them a win to find the courage to take another day in the meat grinder. Perhaps getting a fancy new bow would be the lift the Young Lady Iriel needed.
Ulric knew he wouldn't be handling such a shift with anything close to as much grace. For one thing, there'd probably be way more cursing. So, he could handle the dirty looks and the pissy tone while she figured things out. Just so long as she was down for being on the receiving end of some sarcastic commentary, he wasn't Saint Einar the peace crafter over here. He would, however, do his best to be slightly less of an asshole if at all possible. Should be workable, the educational program he'd been handed was robust and he'd have little time for planting barbs on top of everything else.
Geyrt was clearly conflicted regarding the bow. Desire warred with pride across her face, and she looked from the instrument to him several times while whatever odd thoughts roiled around beneath her hair. Eventually, she made a decision and bent to take up the bone and glue laminated steel wood stave. Standing she ran her hands across its smooth surface appreciatively. As well as she should, Ulric had sanded it fine with incrementally smoother stones over the course of many hours. A very light flame treatment burned off the wood dust as he went and made it more resistant to the influence of moisture, though not completely impenetrable. That was where the glassresin finish coat came into play. Exceedingly thin, brushed on by a fine fur cloth. Heat glassresin nugget, rub the stave, wipe with fur. Rinse and repeat until a smooth coat was formed. Sand it down again with the smoothest stone to achieve a final product. That bow was a source of great pride for him. Best not to let that show though, she was already having trouble.
Not poking fun at her for lusting after his wood was already causing potential internal bleeding. Damn it! He'd tried so hard not to reach for the low-hanging fruit. Some temptations Oh Watcher, are far too great.
"String is right over there in the pack, right on top. [Forest Lord] sinew so it won't ever break as far as I know. Give it a pull and see if it works for you." Ulric suggested, clearing the litany of sarcastic jokes and dry observations that would ruin any and all attempts at being a decent person.
She hesitated only a little before digging out the braided sinew chord and stringing the bow with difficulty. She was as unprepared for the resistance as had been Sinna, Bald'rt's guard who had attempted its draw during his demo. With a more concentrated effort, Geyrt worked the string backward a few times to limber the cold stave and then brought it up smoothly to a full draw, imagined arrow held in fingers that pressed into her chin. His Shadow held the draw, unshaking, for a full count of ten in Ulric's mind, a fairly impressive feat of strength. He knew how much it took to hold that thing like that too well and he'd have to ratchet up his impressions of her athleticism. A forceful expulsion of held breath accompanied her controlled relaxation of the string. She was in love, Ulric could tell.
"…It is an acceptable bow Ulric Glade Chief. Yes, very acceptable. Not a gift though, we are both in agreement. A replacement for my own weapon was needed and you have done your duty to see it set to rights. I will use this bow in place of my own, as part of my service." Geyrt said with pretend nonchalance, belied by her inability to stop running her fingers over the glossy surface of the weapon.
If this dark beauty were a normal person, she'd be giggling instead of faking dispassion. Brighteyes and his joy over a mask came to Ulric's mind. Sometimes being nice was nice. Especially if it made his life with her around even slightly more pleasant. Now don't fuck it up, like you always do, Einar, he warned himself.
"The draw, Glade Chief, you were able to manage it?" Asked his Shadow, looking at him with slight skepticism.
Hey now! Ulric felt a little insulted. Manage it? He'd hunted beast and man with it. Hell, he'd put six arrows on target from sixty meters away and done it fast enough to make a fast-shot team. Manage it, the nerve of her. Clearly, the woman wasn't trying to be insulting though so Ulric just set her straight.
"Lady I don't mean to brag, but I'm a damn good shot with that bow. That bow is more than half the reason I was even able to get Brighteyes out from under those dickhat poachers." He told his Shadow without even the slightest exaggeration.
"From about the door to these apartments to the far end of the hall I put an arrow through the heart of one guy standing guard, another through the head of a guy just a few meters closer, and another three into targets that were moving all in maybe half a minute. Trust me, I can handle the draw." He said laughing.
Geyrt stilled suddenly, her skeptical twerk of eyebrows turning into a near-expressionless mask.
"This is the same bow you used to save Youngest Brother Lumyt'seit?" She asked, voice heavy with some emotion Ulric couldn't identify by tone.
Had he stepped on a landmine? Ulric hoped there wasn't some Comanche blood rite involved with swapping weapons that was going to torpedo this little path to peace. The damned [Forest Lord] core had backfired marvelously on him.
"Please do not fuck me on this", he prayed silently to any passing divinities that might take pity on a foolish man, before he gave her his reply.
"That it is Geyrt, that it is. And, happy as I was with it, I think it's got a better master in your hands. I'll get another when your folk figure out the crafting process." He told her reassuringly.
Looking down at the bow in her hands with something close to worship she closed her eyes for a moment. Was he losing his mind or was there moisture in her eyes? Ok, the day Geyrt Iriel cries is the day He'd sound the horn for the end of times himself.
Ulric felt like he should give her some space. He wasn't a sentimental type, and the Elves didn't come off that way either, especially not this one before him. When in doubt, shut your mouth, he recommended to himself and so he just studied the floor for a minute.
"This is a weapon that has avenged my kin, Ulric. You do not share our customs, you would not know this but such things are not done lightly. Normally it would mean a commitment between Hunters to slay each other's enemies. A pact. We are already committed thus, your enemies are always my enemies now. Even so, I gladly will use this bow to end any threats. Thank you, I will take care of this Blinder and put it to work on your behalf." His Shadow spoke solemnly.
Blinder? Oh, the bow, Ulric realized. She was naming the bow. He wondered, why Blinder? Curiosity was taking at least three lives from this cat.
"If you don't mind me asking, why call it Blinder?" He asked gently.
Geyrt's lips turned up in a fierce grin and her eyes glittered emerald.
"Because it brings forever darkness to all who face it, Glade Chief." She promised, and that was why Ulric was glad that this murder machine was now on his side.
