Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [76]
Braer never seemed tired, or dirty, or less than patient. His garb never changed, and there was never a day when he did not come to her. She saw no other elves, or anyone else… though he'd once confirmed they were somewhere in the High Forest, supposedly home to the greatest kingdom of elves in all Faerun.
On her first morning in the forest, he'd brought her a rough gown of animal hide, glossy high boots of unexpected quality, a thong for tying the Lion Sword around her neck (she kept it wrapped in a skin to avoid cutting her breast), and a trowel for digging her own privy-holes. To clean herself, she scrubbed with leaves and moss and washed in the little pools and rivulets that seemed to be everywhere in the endless forest. When she commented that one seemed to find water unexpectedly around every third or fourth hillock or gully, Braer had nodded and replied, "Like magic."
That memory came to Elmara suddenly. She looked ahead at the elf gliding among the trees like a silent shadow, and suddenly scrambled to catch up with him. As always when she hurried, twigs cracked and leaves rustled under her feet. Braer turned and frowned at her.
She matched his frown, and asked the question that had arisen in her. "Braer… why do elves love magic?"
For a fleeting moment, a grin of exultation washed across his face. Then it was gone, and his face held its usual expression of calm, open interest. Yet El knew she'd seen that look of delight, and her heart lifted. The elf's next words sent it soaring. "Ah… now you begin to think, and to ask the right questions. I can begin teaching you." He turned and walked on.
"Begin teaching me?" Elmara asked his back indignantly. "So just what have ye been doing these past two seasons?"
"Wasting much time," he told the trees ahead calmly, and her heart came crashing down.
Tears welled up in her, and burst forth. Elmara sank down on her knees and wept. She cried a long time, lonely and lost and feeling worthless, and when the tears were all gone she finally sat up wearily, and looked all around. She was alone.
"Braer!" she cried. "Braer! Where are you?" Her shout echoed back at her from the trees, but there came no reply. She sank down again, and whispered, "Mystra, aid me. Mystra… help me!"
It was growing dark. Elmara looked wildly in all directions. She was in a part of the forest they'd never walked in before. With sudden urgency she called forth mage-fire, and held up her blazing hand like a lantern. The trees around seemed to rustle and stir for a moment-but then a tense, watchful stillness fell.
"Braer," she said into the darkness. Please… come back!"
A tree nearby wavered and bowed-and then stepped forward. It was Baerithryn, looking sad. "Forgive me, Elmara?"
Two running steps later, Elmara crashed into him and threw her arms around him, sobbing. "Where did ye go? Oh, Braer, what did I do?"
"I-am sorry, Lady. I did not mean my words as a judgment." The elf held her gently but firmly, rocking her slightly from side to side as if she were a small child to be soothed. With infinite tenderness, his hands stroked her long, tangled hair.
Elmara pulled her head back, tears bright on her cheeks. "But ye went away!"
"You seemed to need a time to grieve… a release," the elf said softly. "It seemed churlish to smother what you felt. More than that: sometimes, things must be faced and fought alone."
He took hold of her shoulders and gently pushed her away until they stood facing each other. Then he smiled and raised a hand-and it suddenly held a steaming bowl. A heavenly scent of cooked fowl swirled around them both. "Care to dine?"
Elmara laughed weakly and nodded. Braer whirled