Curse

Axwind · Feb 15, 2009, 11:50 PM // 23:50

Hello all, I'm new to GWG but it looks like a fun place to hang out when I'm not in Tyria.

Anyway, I like to write as well, and so I thought I'd share a piece I did recently. I haven't been playing Guild Wars for very long, only a couple months now, but I love it. I'm still just in Prophecies but I've read a lot about the other campaigns, including Eye of the North.

I liked the idea of seeing Gwen again as an adult, but there seemed to be a lot of unused potential in the backstory between her and her old friend from Prophecies, if that's where you got to EOTN from. A lot seemed to have been left unsaid between them, likely because of the crisis they were in, but aside from that one quest you can do with her, the story doesn't touch that relationship at all. And I always thought that there was more to it, or could have been. So I wrote this story to explore that possibility.

Also I just like Gwen and was rather surprised to see that she doesn't seem to have gotten as much attention in fan fiction as I thought she might, given how popular she seems to be. I hope you guys like this little story - it turned out longer than I thought it would, so I had to break it up into a few chapters. CC is always welcome, so feel free to point out anything that might work better or that is a little off from EOTN (I haven't played it yet so I may have gotten a few little things wrong here and there). I've also taken a few liberties with the events and dialogue to make them flow better and come across more naturally.

Anyway, that's enough from me. Enjoy the story!

The flute was much like he remembered it, though a little worn here and there from the passage of time. A simple instrument of polished wood, it was a gift from an old friend. Nathel had originally given it to her first, in what seemed like another lifetime now. So many years ago, so many long miles traveled. And yet still, the memory of that day lay like crystal in his mind, so clear and flawless. Much like that azure sky had been.

----------

Nathel Averias walked out the gates of Ascalon City on a morning finer than any he could remember. Soon he would be in the Vanguard, and his fight against the Charr would begin in earnest. But first, he had to hone his skills. Sir Tydus had told him to meet a fellow ranger, Artemis, out here by the road. And there she was, waiting for him in the fields opposite the shrine. Nathel went over to meet her, noting the sounds of bees humming amongst the flowers and a little girl's singsong voice echoing from somewhere nearby. It was a sweet voice, not unlike that of his sister. That same carefree cheerfulness and simple joy that only a child could know. Nathel had known it once, too, before the Charr came. Before their fire and steel had taken it away.

Artemis, meanwhile, had a task for him. A test of his abilities, as she saw it. Fair enough, he supposed. Nathel would impress her and make his first mark on the world, take his first steps toward his goal. Clear the road ahead of skale that had come up from the river and kill their queen. Not the most heroic of tasks, but it would do for now. It didn't take long, and Artemis was impressed enough to give him a flask of troll unguent and teach him a trick or two with the bow.

After bidding her farewell and getting further instructions from one of Sir Tydus' men, a great bear of a man named Haversdan, Nathel heard that little girl's voice again, this time suffused with helpless giggles. Nathel glanced over and saw her for just a moment—a petite figure with short, dark hair adorned with a circlet of yellow flowers above a pair of wide, inquisitive eyes—before she disappeared behind the shrine. He crossed the road, wanting to meet her without knowing quite why.

When he found her, she was skipping around the little hill and humming to herself, her pale blue and red dress swishing around her legs. She wore white pants but no shoes, instead prancing through the grass in her bare feet. Much as Alanna had once done, Nathel thought. His little sister. The girl saw him, then, her already wide eyes widening even further.

“Hi! Are you... are you an adventurer?” she asked. “You sure look like one.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

The girl jumped in delight. “Oh, good! You see, I left my flute down by the river. I was going to go get it, but there are lots of monsters down there now. Can you.. can you maybe go get it for me? Please? And make the monsters go away?”

Nathel knelt so that he was at eye level with her. “Sure, I can do that. What's your name?”

“Gwen! What's yours?”

----------

Sitting with his back to an old oak, watching the stars come out over the snow-covered hillside above the massive citadel that was the Eye of the North, Nathel held the flute in his hand, thinking of the past, of that day. He needed to be alone, to sort through the conflicting jumble of thoughts and feelings roiling within him. It had been nearly a month since he had come back here to the Far Shiverpeaks with Gwen and the others after the Great Destroyer's defeat. Things were quiet now for once, for the first time in so many years, and Nathel wondered why that made him so uncomfortable. Maybe he just wasn't used to it. He acted as a scout for the Ebon Vanguard along with Aidan and Anton, watching the movements of the Charr forces, but even the raids had grown less frequent as the Charr had become more divided with the fall of the shamans.

Nathel put his thoughts from his mind for a moment, brought the flute to his lips, and played. He wasn't very good—at least he didn't think so—but he still managed to hold together a little melody, one that had been lingering in his mind ever since Gwen had given him the flute. He let the music speak of what his words couldn't.

“You're getting better, Nathel.”

He stopped playing, looked up, and saw her. He'd been so absorbed in his music that he hadn't heard Gwen approach. She stood before him now, taller than she had been that day he'd first met her. Her hair was fuller but still cut just beneath her ears, with long bangs and a little yellow flower tucked into one side. Her eyes were harder, their innocence long gone, but she seemed more at peace now, more relaxed since he'd helped her kill her old tormentor Daghar and stop the Destroyers. She sat down beside him, ruffling Whisper's fur as she did so. The big cat seemed to like it, settling his head on her lap as she scratched the back of his neck.

Nathel smiled. “Thanks. I've been practicing.”

“I can tell. Maybe we should play a duet sometime.”

“We'll see, Gwen,” he laughed. “I don't know that I want an audience.”

She chuckled. “I didn't say we had to have one. But enough of that. With all that's happened, we never got a chance to talk much. I just came over to say that I'm really glad you're here, that we were able to meet again. I missed you, you know.”

“I missed you, too. But... I don't know if I'm going to stay.”

“Why not?” Gwen shot to her feet.

Nathel sighed. He wasn't even sure, himself. Only that being here, with her, was both wonderful and difficult at the same time. Whenever he looked at her, he wasn't sure who he saw, the child she had been or the adult she had become. He wasn't sure who he wanted to see. But the sight of her always left him breathless, and the errant touch of her hand always seemed to heat his blood. She was his friend, but... she was so different now, her close-fitting blue and black mesmer armor outlining a figure much more shapely and curved than he remembered.

“I don't usually stay in one place for very long,” he explained, though he knew that wasn't all of it, not by far. “But I haven't decided yet, about here.”

“You have to stay, Nathel. I—I mean, we—need you here.”

He nodded. “I know. That's why I've been coming out here lately. Fresh air helps me think. And sitting out under the stars.”

“Should I go, then?” Gwen asked.

Nathel motioned for her to sit back down. “No, please don't. I'm glad you came. It's nice to have someone to share the sky with.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Gwen smiled, sitting down again.

It felt good, having her so close. He didn't get to be alone with her very often, and there was so much to talk about, so much more than he could say. He looked at the flute again, thinking once more of that day, of the adventures she had shared with him for those few precious hours they'd had together. The little journeys they had made through Ascalon's verdant, rolling hills.

----------

“You got it!”

Nathel handed her the two pieces of the flute. “Yeah. But so did the skale, I'm afraid.”

Gwen's face fell. “Oh, no! It's broken! Those monsters did it, didn't they? They trampled on it! Did you get them, Nathel? Did you?”

“I sure did, Gwen.”

“Good!” she nodded. “I knew you would! Say, can I come with you? I promise I won't get in the way. Please? I want to be an adventurer, too!”

Nathel was going to say no, but in the face of her pleading eyes and hopeful gaze, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He only hoped he wouldn't regret it later. And he felt bad for her, after having to show her that her treasured flute was broken. Maybe there was a way he could make it up to her. Surely one of the merchants around here had a flute he could buy.

He beckoned to her. “Come on, Gwen. Let's go.”

“Yay! I'm on an adventure! So, where are we going?”

“Ashford,” Nathel said, walking with her down the road. “I have to go meet with Devona. Haversdan said she had a task for me.”

Gwen skipped along eagerly beside him. “Oh, Devona is so pretty! I just love her hair! Do you think my hair will ever be that pretty when I grow up?”

“Prettier,” he said.

“Thanks! You're so nice! Mommy says I shouldn't bother the grownups so much, but there aren't any children around here my age to play with. Have you met my mommy? Her name is Sarah, and she's the town herbalist. She helps make sick people well again.”

Nathel shook his head. “I don't think I have. But she sounds nice.”

A grove of trees grew on either side of the road, their branches reaching out over the dusty path of fitted stone winding up the hill. As Nathel passed beneath them with Gwen, he shot a few skale that had wandered too close, and the rest fled back down to the river off to his left. It was a fine day, a warm late summer morning beneath a cloudless sky. He felt good, ready to prove to Sir Tydus and Armin Saberlin and the rest that he was worthy of joining them in fighting the Charr. Maybe he would be a hero someday, like King Adelbern and Prince Rurik. But what mattered was forcing the Charr back, forcing them from his homeland.

Gwen's voice drew him out of his thoughts. “So tell me about yourself. Are you a ranger? My daddy was a great warrior, an adventurer like you, but he died when I was seven. Mommy says we'll see him again after we die. Do you think that's true?”

“I think so, yeah,” Nathel answered. “I hope so.”

“Did you... did you lose anyone?”

He had. It hurt to think about it, but he didn't mind sharing it with her. “My sister. I grew up with her in a village near Surmia. She was a few years younger than me, so I looked out for her as best I could. I don't remember much about my parents, except that my father fought and died in the last guild war, and my mother just withered away after that and died not long after. All I had was my sister, Alanna.”

“I'm sorry. You must miss her, huh?”

“Yeah, every day. I took care of her until the Charr came. They destroyed Surmia and burned every village they came to, including mine. I fled south with my sister and a few others, but they caught up to us before we could get very far. We tried to fight them, but they killed most of us, including Alanna, before the Vanguard got there and drove them off. I came here after that.”

Gwen nodded. “Are you in the Vanguard now?”

“Not yet,” Nathel said, “but I plan to be. I'm entering the academy today.”

“I'm sure you'll make it! You're so strong, just like my daddy. How old are you? I'm ten, but I'll be eleven in just a few months!”

Nathel smiled. “Sixteen.”

Something caught his eye, then, and he knelt for a moment by the side of the road. A small flower with bright red petals was growing amidst the ankle-high grass. Red iris, he thought. Gwen would like it. Carefully, Nathel pulled the flower out of the ground, gently twisting the roots off the base of the stem. Gwen hadn't seen it yet, but she stood waiting patiently for him.

He turned around and handed it to her. “Careful. It's delicate.”

“Oh, thank you, Nathel!” Gwen said, taking it from him. “The red flowers have always been my favorite! How did you know?”

“There were a lot of them growing behind the shrine. I figured you had something to do with it.”

Gwen laughed. “Yeah! I planted them. My mommy gave me some seeds back in the spring, and I've been tending them ever since. They're so pretty!”

“Well, if I see any more, I'll pick them for you.”

“Thanks!” Gwen said. “I'll have a whole vase full of them! Mommy'll love them, too! How many flowers does it take to fill up a vase, do you think?”

Nathel straightened, shrugged, and started walking again. “I don't know. We'll find out, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess we will! It'll be fun!”

Konig Des Todes · Feb 16, 2009, 12:40 AM // 00:40

-pokes- Is this "Karn" from GWO by any chance? o_o story sounds eerily like what he has been claiming to write.

Axwind · Feb 16, 2009, 05:34 AM // 05:34

Nope, never heard of him. Who is he?

Konig Des Todes · Feb 16, 2009, 07:03 AM // 07:03

In short, someone you don't want to know.

Arduin · Feb 17, 2009, 12:24 PM // 12:24

Could you maybe use something different than the Italics for part of your story? I'd like to read it, but I'm having a hard time deciphering the wriggling script

.

Axwind · Feb 17, 2009, 03:31 PM // 15:31

Sorry about that, I'm using the italics to have a visual distinction between the past and the present. I went ahead and changed the font, though, to the forum default so it should be easier to read now.

Arduin · Feb 17, 2009, 11:04 PM // 23:04

Thanks for that!

I really enjoyed it. It's a good read, and you are able to describe the scenes and emotions so vividly it's not hard to imagine you being there.

I also like the way you tie in the little things that actually happened in GW into your story. It makes you remind of the adventures you have done yourself, giving the story a bit more depth.

Going to write some more?

Axwind · Feb 18, 2009, 12:39 AM // 00:39

For the better part of an hour, Gwen sat talking with Nathel, reminiscing about that day. It was good to have her mind on things other than the Charr for once. She would never forgive them for what they had done to her, but she had learned to move on, to focus on the future rather than the past. On the now rather than on what might have been. And on what might still be.

Beside her, Nathel sat holding the flute, idly turning it over in his hands. Though only twenty-four, he seemed older somehow, more careworn and tired than Gwen remembered. He had spent years fighting and traveling, she knew, pulled from one battle to the next without even knowing why half the time. And while he had achieved his dream and become a hero, defeating the Lich King and the Titans as well as the Destroyers and who knew what else, his victories had not left him unscathed. His face and arms bore the faint lines of scars Gwen knew had not been there when she had known him before, and his shoulders were bent with the weight of a burden he had never spoken of but which she knew he carried. She saw it every time he looked at her.

Tall, lean, his face covered with a light beard that hadn't been there in his youth, he sat next to her now, wrapped in an old traveling cloak to keep out the chill. Gwen pulled her own cloak closer around her shoulders, her breath steaming in the air. She hadn't recognized Nathel at first, those many weeks ago when he had first come here. So many of her memories had been destroyed and ripped apart by Daghar's torments over the years, flayed from her mind like the skin had been torn from her back under the touch of that demon's whip. It had only been after her escape that some pieces of those memories had finally begun to come back.

Gwen had meant to talk to him sooner, to see what was wrong and help him if she could, but until lately her duties in the Vanguard had kept her from spending much time with him. She thought about him often, more so now than before they had beaten the Destroyers, and her heart went out to him. He had been everything to her when she had known him before, and to see him now so worn down, so wearied by the years of constant struggle and loss, pained her deeply.

She thought of the time they'd spent together, so many years ago, how young they both had been. Hers hadn't been the only innocence lost in the Searing, she realized. Another reason to hate so many of the Charr. They had taken his home, his family and his world just as they had taken hers. Gwen's fingers clenched into a fist, the old familiar anger starting to rise up again. But not for herself this time. Not for what they had done to her. But rather, for what they had done to him.

Relaxing her fingers, she forced herself to let it go. For now. It was the past and could not be changed. But his future still could be. Gwen wanted him to stay, wanted it more than she cared to admit, but now she was starting to understand why he might not. So she sat with him, remembered with him, and enjoyed the time they spent together.

----------

Gwen held the flower in her hand, waiting patiently while Nathel talked with the merchant just outside Ashford. She couldn't see what her new friend was buying, but it was okay. There were plenty of neat things to look at, from the merchant's colorful wagon full of goods to the bees buzzing through the tall grass. There was an abbey just down the hill a little further down the road, and Mr. Pitney's fields stretched out in front of it in long, lumpy rows of earth.

A taller hill rose up sharply nearby, leaving Gwen in a nice patch of shade as she wandered away from the road a little to get a closer look at the abbey. She and Mommy went there for services once a week, and there was a nice monk there named Mhenlo who did the teaching. Maybe she and Nathel could go see him later, after they took care of whatever it was that Devona—

Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind as an arm abruptly reached around the edge of the tall hill and seized her wrist. She shrieked. “Nathel! Help me! Nath—“

Another arm wrapped around her, the hand closing over her mouth, and then she was being carried across the side of the lower hill. Gwen kicked at her captor and bit at the hand, but she was unable to escape. She was aware of more people now, all in black and red. Bandits? She didn't know. She was taken around to a small dell sheltered by the taller hill and stacked high with crates and boxes. A fire burned in the middle, with a bunch of mean-looking men and women gathered around it. Gwen shivered.

One of them, a man taller than the rest, pointed to a spot beyond the fire. “Put her down over there. Maybe the high and mighties in the city'll be more willing to negotiate now.”

“A hostage, Alain?” another bandit asked.

“Why not? It'll make Adelbern listen. And if he doesn't, he'll have her blood on his hands.”

Suddenly there was a high whine as something flew like lightning through the air, and Gwen looked up. One of the bandits fell over, an arrow through his neck. Two more went down before they even knew what was happening. The rest scrambled out of the dell except for Alain, who seized Gwen from the man holding her and dragged her up toward a path running through the hills away from the fields.

Gwen saw a familiar figure running toward her. “Nathel! Up here! Help!”

“Gwen! Hold on!” he called.

How could he get to her through so many bandits? Gwen worried for him even as she struggled to escape Alain's grasp. His grip was like iron, though, and then there was a knife in his hand. Gwen saw two soldiers scrambling toward the dell from the abbey, but they were still far away. Would they be in time? Nathel was filling bandits with arrows left and right, but he would run out sooner or later. And there were still three or four of the bad people left.

Suddenly she felt Alain stiffen, and she looked over to see something bright and shiny sticking out of his chest. His grip on her relaxed, and Gwen turned to see a woman standing behind him, sword in hand. She must have been running down the very path he had been trying to use to escape. Blond and in the armor of a soldier of Ascalon, she withdrew her sword, and Alain fell to the ground and stopped moving.

“Stay here,” the woman told her. Gwen did so.

Before long, it was over, the bandits all dead or scattered. Between the woman's sword and Nathel's arrows, few of them had survived. By the time the soldiers from the abbey finally arrived, there was nothing for them to do but take away the bodies.

Gwen ran over to Nathel's side. “Are you okay? I was so scared!”

“I'm fine,” he assured her. “What about you?”

“I'm okay, Nathel. I knew you'd come and save me. I just knew it!”

He knelt and checked her face and arms just to be sure. “I'm sorry about all this. I knew there were bandits around, but I didn't think they'd go so close to the road.”

“They had been getting more aggressive lately,” the blond woman said, wiping her sword on the bandit leader's cloak. “It's no fault of yours.”

“Thanks for helping me out, by the way. Who are you?”

She sheathed her sword. “Farrah Cappo. Grazden sent me to deal with Alain and his gang. It looks like you did most of the work, though. Impressive.”

With that, she bowed and walked back up the path. A real warrior! A lady warrior, too. It was exactly what Gwen wanted to be when she grew up. Or maybe a mesmer. She had always liked their outfits and hoped that she could be regal and beautiful like Lady Althea someday.

Gwen was about to follow Nathel out of the dell when she saw something amidst the boxes and crates behind the fire. “Look! I think the bandits stole something.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Nathel looked at the chest she was pointing at. “Good eye, Gwen.”

She beamed. “Thanks!”

“Look here, it's got the royal seal on it. Let's take this with us to Devona. We're heading over there anyway, and she'll definitely want to know about this.”

“Yeah!” Gwen said.

Shouldering his bow, Nathel picked up the chest, and Gwen followed him out of the dell and back toward the road. Soon enough they were heading down the other side of the hill into Ashford. It was a small place, but to Gwen it was home, and she loved it. She and Nathel were halfway down the hill when he stopped, put the chest down and took something out of his pack. “I almost forgot about it in all the excitement, but I got you something from the merchant. I hope you like it.”

It was a flute.

Gwen squealed in delight, took it, and whirled around. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love it, Nathel! Want to hear me play?”

“Sure,” he grinned.

She did so, tucking her flower into her belt, putting the flute to her lips and playing a cheerful little melody her mother had taught her. She added to it, experimenting with a bunch of different notes here and there. It was a short piece, but she loved it. And Nathel liked it too, smiling as he listened. He picked the chest up and started walking again. Gwen followed him, playing her flute and thinking about how wonderful he was, so brave and tall and handsome with his long brown hair and gentle eyes. If only she were older.

Then they finally met with Devona. She was a warrior, too, blond like Farrah. But she had a big hammer instead of a sword. She and Nathel talked for a bit, then a guard from the nearby bridge came running up saying there were grawl coming down the road on the other side. Gwen stayed in the village while Nathel and Devona rushed out to fight them, and soon enough, the monsters were beaten and her friends were back. Devona congratulated her on finding the stolen chest and said she'd mention it to Prince Rurik himself! Devona knew the prince! Gwen wished she could meet him someday.

While they were in Ashford, she and Nathel helped Farmer Dirk get his hogs back into their pen—it was fun chasing after them, though they often had a mind of their own. But in the end it was done. Then Mr. Pitney came up and asked Nathel to find him some kind of big egg, Gwen wasn't sure what kind, to use to lure out a big queen worm that was ruining his fields. And Miss Alison convinced him to get a bear hide so she could make a big cloak for a friend of hers, while Miss Chantalle wanted him to take a horn to a ranger named Aidan. Gwen had heard of him, he was a hero, like Devona. And Devona had an important job for Nathel as well, going to Green Hills County to talk to some important people about the king.

“We've got a lot of stuff to do, don't we?” Gwen asked.

Nathel nodded. “Yeah, but I don't mind. I like helping people. I want to be a hero, after all.”

“You're a hero to me, Nathel.”

Axwind · Feb 26, 2009, 04:38 AM // 04:38

Gwen wandered through the vast halls of the Eye of the North sometime later, having taken her leave of Nathel to debrief a late patrol that had come in. As Captain Langmar's second-in-command, Gwen shouldered a great deal of responsibility for the Ebon Vanguard's work. Originally she had only been left in charge because Langmar hadn't trusted her in battle against the Charr—she had feared that Gwen would be too reckless and take too many chances in her need to kill as many of the hulking, horned things as possible.

At the time, she had resented Langmar's decision, but lately she had come to understand it better, and herself as well. Langmar had been right to hold her back, for her hatred of the Charr had been so great at the time that it had blinded her to virtually everything else. Gwen still hated many of them, but had learned to temper it and focus it on those who had truly been responsible and not just those who happened to be of the same race. It had been a painful lesson, but one that in retrospect Gwen was glad she had learned.

Her footsteps took her back outside the citadel and down to the vast frozen lake near which it stood. Gwen approached the shore and gazed out at the snow-covered slopes that rose up all along the water's edge. Was Nathel still out there somewhere? What was he waiting for? Gwen's thoughts lingered on him as she took out an old, faded tapestry shred and held it in her hand. A gift, first from her to him, and then from him to her. A symbol of their friendship.

Friends. That was what they were. That was what they had always been. But was that all she wanted them to be? Gwen didn't know. Ever since Nathel had come back into her life, bringing with him a part of herself she had thought long gone, old feelings had begun to stir within her, tender memories long buried beneath the years of pain and torment. A bit at a time, Gwen had begun to find herself again, to remember who she had been.

Despite the risks, Nathel had taken her to the underworld to see her mother one last time, to say the goodbye she had never been able to say before. And in that dark place, Gwen had finally begun to heal. She would never forget her years as a prisoner of the Charr, but neither would she be driven by them. That part of her life was over. It was time for her to move on, to do as her mother had said and live the life she wanted. And she found that she didn't want to do it alone.

----------

“Gwen, over here,” Nathel called.

She smiled and skipped over to where he stood. They were in a little camp of sorts, a place with bright colored tents and big wagons full of interesting things Gwen had never heard of and which often came from far off lands—if you believed the merchants, that was. Nathel had told her the place was called Foible's Fair, and it certainly looked a little like a fair to her, nestled here in Wizard's Folly.

They had come here after leaving Ashford and hunting down one of those big black bears that had been attacking travelers in the vale recently. The bear had been so big and scary that Gwen had wondered how Nathel could possibly beat it. But he had, though the bear had been so full of arrows by the time it was over that it had looked like one of Mommy's pincushions. Gwen had picked a few more red iris flowers while Nathel had used his old hunting knife to get a bit of the bear's hide for Miss Alison.

The hide was rolled up in his pack now, and Gwen was glad for that. She thought it smelled icky. But Miss Alison could make a nice cloak out of it. Gwen had one herself for cold and rainy days, but today was so bright and sunny she had left it at home.

“What'd you get, Nathel?” she asked.

He smiled. “Try it on and see.”

Gwen's mouth fell open as she saw what he was holding. A cape! A big red cape, just like she wanted! She had mentioned during the bear hunt how much she liked Miss Sandra's cape, but she hadn't expected Nathel to actually get her one. They were pretty expensive, and she had been saving her allowance to buy one herself eventually. Now, though, she wouldn't have to.

“Oh, Nathel, you didn't have to do that!” Gwen said. “Thank you!”

She turned around and let him slip it over her shoulders while she held her flute and flowers. It was so pretty! Gwen twirled around, giggling all the while, but then she stopped, feeling overwhelmed and oddly shy. She found herself unable to look up at him as her cheeks turned pink.

“What's wrong?” Nathel asked.

“Well, um, why are you being so nice to me?”

He knelt so he was at eye level with her. “You remind me of my sister, I guess. She was a lot like you, Gwen. And I think that making you happy makes her happy too, wherever she is.”

Gwen threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. She understood now. And now she wanted to do something for him for once, something to make him happy as he'd done for her. But what? How could she help him? How could she make him smile like she had? Gwen let go, the answer suddenly clear in her mind, and spun around again in her new cape.

“What is it, Gwen?” Nathel asked, standing up again.

“I've got something for you! My favorite thing in the whole wide world! It's my secret treasure, but I want you to have it, Nathel. Here!”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out an old scrap of cloth. It was a little faded, but the colors were still clearly visible. It looked like it had been part of something larger, maybe even something fancy like a tapestry. Gwen didn't know, but it was neat nonetheless. So mysterious! And there was a bit of a picture on it, although she couldn't make out what it was.

Nathel took it. “Looks like a tapestry shred. Where'd you find this?”

“Back behind the shrine when I planted my flowers,” Gwen answered. “It was kinda buried, but maybe somebody just dropped it and it got covered up later.”

“You sure you want me to have this?”

Gwen nodded. “Yeah! Maybe you can even find out what it goes to! It's a mystery!”

“Thank you, Gwen,” Nathel smiled. “I'll keep it safe.”

----------

Nathel walked through the woods, no closer to a decision than he had been when he'd spoken with Gwen. Whisper padded along beside him, one of the few stalkers to ever venture this far north. They had traveled to distant lands together, from the far reaches of Tyria and the island of Cantha to the vast deserts of Elona, and had fought alongside each other in countless battles against often overwhelming odds. The big cat had become as much a friend and ally to him over the years as any human had ever been.

His boots making almost no sound as he walked through the snow—few people were as silent and invisible as a ranger in the wilderness—Nathel's thoughts returned once more to Gwen. More than anything, he wanted to be here, to be with her. And yet he couldn't. It was too painful, to hard to face. And she had to know, didn't she? How could she not? He had saved her so many times that day in Ascalon, from bandits and bears, skale and devourers, but he had been unable to do so when it mattered most. And she had suffered so much because of it.

Soon the trees parted a little, and Nathel stepped into a clearing, where another man—bearded and with a touch of gray in his dark hair— was warming himself by a small fire. A fellow ranger, Aidan. He looked up as Nathel approached. “Greetings, old friend. What's on your mind?”

“Just getting some fresh air,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”

“You've been very quiet lately. More than usual, that is. Would you like to talk about it?”

At first, Nathel didn't. It was his problem, after all. But he'd known Aidan a long time—the older man had taught him much over the years about being both a ranger and a man. He was his friend and mentor and if anyone could help him now, it was him. Perhaps that was why he had come in this way, even if he hadn't known it until now. Like him, Aidan spent as much time outdoors as he could, being more comfortable outside the fortress' walls than within them.

Nathel folded his arms in front of him and gazed into the fire. “I'm thinking about leaving soon. And I don't think I mean to come back.”

“Why?” Aidan asked.

“It's about Gwen. Everything she's been through, it... it's my fault.”

Aidan shook his head. “It was the Charr who hurt her, not you, Nathel. Don't take the blame for what they did. You had no way of knowing she was their captive.”

“I saved her so many times before,” Nathel sighed. “But this time, I couldn't.”

“I doubt she blames you for it.”

Nathel nodded. “I know. But I do. And when I'm with her, I can't help but think of it. Even though all I want is to be with her. Does that make any sense?”

“I think it does,” Aidan said. “You care for her very much, don't you?”

“More than anything.”

Aidan looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you love her?”

Did he? Was that what this was really all about? Was he so afraid to admit it, even to himself? Nathel had never even voiced that thought before, always couching it behind other words in his mind when he even dared to think of it. And yet, he couldn't deny it, not anymore. He couldn't deny how much she meant to him, how she made him feel. But how could he justify feeling this way about someone he had hurt so deeply?

“Yes. Yes, I do, Aidan. But... how can I?”

“How can you not, if you feel that strongly about her?” Aidan countered.

Nathel sighed. “She's just a kid.”

“No, she's not, Nathel. She's a woman. A beautiful woman. And I think in your heart, you're finally beginning to realize that. And it scares you, doesn't it?”

“I don't want to hurt her again,” he said.

Aidan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If I... if I get involved with her, and it doesn't work out, it would hurt her worse than anything the Charr ever did. I can't let that happen.”

“Every relationship involves a bit of risk, Nathel.”

He knew that, but it didn't make it any easier. “I know. But she's been through enough.”

Aidan seized his shoulder, his eyes intense. “If you leave, you'll just be running away again. Running away from your pain and your feelings like you've been doing all these years, hiding behind one battle after another and not fighting the only one that really matters, the one inside you. I've known you too long not to see it. And if you do go, you'll never know what you missed with Gwen, how happy you might have been with her. Is that really what you want?”

“What should I do, Aidan?”

“Go to her. Tell her how you feel. Tell her everything. She'll understand.”

Would she? Did she feel as he did? Nathel didn't know. But he wanted to. Suddenly he wanted to know very much. He loved her, and whether or not she felt the same way, he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. And that he was sorry for what had happened to her, that he hadn't been there when she needed him. He had failed her once. How could he do it again? She deserved better. She deserved to know the truth.

Nathel hurried back to the tower, his heart pounding.

----------

After leaving Wizard's Folly, Nathel returned with Gwen to Ashford, where he gave the bear hide to Alison before moving on. It would be a while before the cloak was ready, so this was as good a time as any to go get Pitney's egg. Nathel headed up the road from Ashford with Gwen until he found the spot he was looking for, just beyond the stand of trees they had passed under earlier. He led her off the road, clearing away with his bow any skale that wandered too close, and walked down the slope until he stood at the edge of the river.

“Are we going to the other side?” Gwen asked.

Nathel nodded. “Yeah. That's where the devourer cave is.”

The river wasn't all that wide, only about twenty yards or so across, and it didn't look all that deep. Nathel figured he could wade across it easily enough. But what about Gwen? He didn't want her to get all wet and maybe catch a cold. And he didn't like the idea of leaving her here to wait for him by herself where the skale might come back and find her. Closer to where he'd found her broken flute, she might have been able to cross—the water was much shallower there—but here it would go at least to her waist if she went in.

Gwen's thoughts echoed his own. “How am I gonna get over there with you?”

“I don't know, Gwen,” he said. “But—wait a minute, I just thought of something. You think you can climb on my back? If you do that, I can carry you across.”

“Yeah! That's it! A piggyback ride!”

Nathel crouched down, and after a moment he felt Gwen's arms sliding loosely over his shoulders as she got on, tucking her flute and flowers into her belt so she could hold onto him. After making sure the skale were all still far downstream, Nathel straightened up and walked into the river. The current was slow and the water warm from the day's heat—it was almost noon, and the sun burned brightly in the clear sky. Gwen wrapped her legs around his waist as he made his way across the river.

The water rose to about halfway up his thighs at its deepest point, and he could feel it beginning to seep through his boots and leggings. With an arrow ready in his bow just in case the skale came back this way, Nathel headed toward the far shore, where the ground rose up again in a line of low hills. He glanced over his shoulder at Gwen. “You doing okay up there?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she said. “Isn't this fun?”

“Sure is. Hang on, we're almost there.”

They reached the far shore moments later, where Nathel bent down and let Gwen climb off. She giggled and spun around. “Yay! We made it!”

Nathel led her around the nearest hill until they found a cave on its other side. A man in armor stood by the entrance along with his servant, and they looked up as Nathel and Gwen approached. The knight, Duke Gaban, asked him to guard his servant Fadden Hathorn while he gathered up some of the devourer eggs inside the cave. Gwen waved at Fadden, mentioning to Nathel how Mrs. Hathorn sometimes let her hold their baby. “He's so cute! I hope I have one someday, when I'm all grown up.”

“I'm sure you will,” Nathel smiled.

He went into the cave with her and Fadden, shooting the devourers as they came near. There were only a few chambers, with nests full of eggs, and Fadden got an armful of them while Nathel cleared out all the devourers he could find. Gwen followed a few steps behind until they were all gone, then she skipped past him to see a bit more of the cave where part of the floor curved around to an upper level. She had gone no more than a few steps when another devourer, this one bigger than the others, suddenly burst out of the ground in a spray of dirt and rock and whipped its tail at her.

“Nathel! Help!” she called.

He aimed his bow at the devourer. “Gwen! Run!”

She did so, scrambling out of the way just as the tail came down where she had been a moment before. Nathel loosed arrows into it one after another as stingers flew at him from another pair of devourers that had been lying in wait on the upper level. Fadden cradled his eggs in one hand and pulled Gwen out of the way with the other as Nathel fired at the monsters, hoping to distract them enough that they would lose interest in Gwen and Fadden and go after him instead.

At last the larger devourer collapsed, an arrow in its eye, and Nathel killed the other two without much difficulty. They were smaller than the first and went down quickly once he concentrated his shots on them. By the time it was over, all his arrows were spent and there were little stingers sticking out of him here and there from those last two devourers. The pain wasn't so bad, though, and the troll unguent helped ease it a bit as he pulled out the stingers and retrieved his arrows, but he knew he'd be sore for the rest of the day.

“Gwen?” he called. “Are you okay?”

She flew into his arms, trembling a little. “I'm alright, but those monsters almost ate me! I didn't know they could come up from the ground like that. It was so scary!”

“Nothing's going to hurt you, Gwen. Not while I'm around.”

“You promise?”

He nodded. “I promise. Whatever happens, I'll protect you. Always.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Arctica · Feb 26, 2009, 02:32 PM // 14:32

An excellent piece of writing. I enjoyed every line of it.

Can we have some more, please?

Axwind · Mar 20, 2009, 05:38 AM // 05:38

Walking along the shore of the frozen lake, Gwen pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders and wondered just what she was doing. Surely Nathel would be back soon. It wasn't like it would have been hard for him to find her if she had just stayed in the tower. But something had prompted her to go back outside, to go and seek him out if she could. Why, she couldn't say. Only that her heart told her to do it. And that she wanted to be with him.

Although Lt. Thackeray had reminded her a few weeks ago during Wintersday that she wasn't alone, that the Vanguard was her family now, Gwen had come to feel closer still to Nathel. His was one of the only other faces she saw now that she had known in the days before the Searing. And she suspected that hers was much the same for him. The memories of their shared past, along with the things they had recently been through together in the present, drew Gwen to him in a way she didn't feel for anyone else.

Wintersday. It hadn't been so bad this year. For the first time, she hadn't felt alone. Not just because Thackeray—she still hadn't quite gotten around to thinking of him by his first name, Keiran, even though he had asked her to call him that—had been kind enough to enlist Nathel in getting her a gift. The pendant, with the family crest engraved in it and a bit of her mother's spirit dwelling inside it, meant a great deal to her. It had been so sweet of Nathel to go to all the trouble of having it made for her, although she had never told him so. It would have brought to the surface feelings that she hadn't been quite sure how to deal with, longings she wasn't sure she should have but which she was helpless to stop. She might as well have tried to stop her heart from beating.

Those feelings swirled around inside her, stronger now than they had been then. Although the pendant had been Thackeray's idea, it was Nathel who had done the work and who had actually given it to her. And it had made her feel closer to him than she had before, had nudged her heart a little further along the course it had already decided it was going to go. Gwen hoped that she would be able to convince him to stay here, to stay with the Vanguard. And with her. Gwen's heart beat a little faster at that thought as she finally began to admit to herself what she had known for some time but which she had never before allowed herself to put into words, not even in the privacy of her own mind.

She was falling in love with Nathel, a little more each day. Once, long ago, he had been like the big brother she had never had, even though they had only spent a few short hours together. But now, after he had come back into her life and helped her find herself again, helped her to put the demons of her past to rest and reminded her that she wasn't alone, Gwen had found herself beginning to think of him in ways she hadn't before, longing more and more to see if he could ever be more than just her friend. They had scared her at first, those thoughts and feelings, and so she had tried to bury them and ignore them, afraid of what they might mean. But they hadn't gone away, instead growing stronger as the weeks had gone by and she had spent more time with him.

Nathel was older than her by a good six years, and for the longest time Gwen had reminded herself of that fact over and over, used it to tell herself she was just being foolish and to forget about it. But of late that had become more and more difficult to do. She would steel herself not to waver, do her best to lock her wayward emotions up tight, but whenever she saw him now for more than a passing moment, whenever he came near, butterflies swam lazily in her stomach and her heart leapt free of its restraints, slamming against her ribs like Devona's famed warhammer.

Her boots crunching in the snow, Gwen continued on down the shore of the lake, a light wind brushing past her cheeks. It was late, the night sky obscured by a dark blanket of clouds. She hoped Nathel had begun to head back by now. He should have, as he knew better than to stay out too long in the frigid nights here in the far north. Without some form of shelter, even a strong warrior would die of exposure within hours if the weather became too cold, as it often did late at night.

Gwen moved a little faster, wanting to find Nathel before the air grew any chillier. She was probably worrying over nothing—he was a ranger, after all, and knew better than she did the ways of the wild and how to see changes in the wind—but still, a tiny knot festered in her gut, a seed of doubt that she knew would not leave until she saw him safely inside the keep. There was still time, but even Gwen could see that a storm was brewing. They sometimes swept down out of the mountain peaks to the north, icy blizzards that piled snow upon the lands here in drifts several feet deep by the time they blew themselves out. Gwen had watched them before from inside the walls of the keep. But now she was outside, and so was Nathel. She hurried onward, her unease deepening.

----------

“A group of Charr have broken through the gates!”

Gwen's jaw dropped. Standing there alongside the road only a few yards in front of her was Prince Rurik! The prince himself! He was in shiny armor and had a big flaming sword, and he looked worried. So did the other soldiers with him. Gwen knew why. Although she had never seen them, she knew what the Charr were. Big nasty monsters that had been attacking Ascalon for as long as she could remember. The big wall to the north kept them out, though. At least, she had thought it did.

Beside her, Nathel stared at the prince. “What? When?”

“Just now,” Prince Rurik answered. “Will you help me drive them from Ascalon, young ranger?”

“I'm with you!”

The prince nodded. “Excellent. Follow me! To the gate!”

Gwen's heart began to pound as Nathel turned to her. “You stay here, Gwen. I'll come back when it's all over.”

“But—“

“No buts, you hear me?” Nathel said. “I don't want you anywhere near the Charr. And I don't want them anywhere near you. Okay?”

Gwen sighed. “Okay. Be careful.”

“I will, Gwen. And I'll be back soon.”

And then he was gone, hurrying down the road after Prince Rurik and the soldiers, the road she and Nathel had already started down after returning from their third trip to Ashford to help Mr. Pitney with his worm problem. They had also picked up the bear cloak from Miss Alison for her friend Little Thom, who was in Green Hills County where Devona wanted Nathel to talk to some people. So that had been their next destination. Only they hadn't gotten there yet. And now there were Charr coming through the gate, and Nathel was rushing to stop them.

Hadn't he nearly been killed by them when he was a boy? And they had killed his sister, too. Gwen remembered him telling her that earlier in the day. She worried about him, not wanting to disobey him but afraid that, even with Prince Rurik and the soldiers with him, something bad might happen to him. Before she even realized what she was doing, Gwen found herself heading down the road after Nathel, not sure what was happening to him but unable to bear not knowing any longer.

As she drew closer to the great wall, Gwen heard the sounds of battle, of steel clashing and magic sizzling and people yelling and monsters roaring. She smelled burnt grass and singed flesh, and her heart beat faster. Then she saw them, huge hulking things that could only be Charr. They were all fur and horns and sharp claws, and they were so big! Gwen trembled at the sight of them and hid behind a tree while the battle raged less than fifty yards ahead of her. Where was Nathel? At first, Gwen didn't see him, terrified as she was at the sight of the four Charr who had burst through the gate. Two were in heavy armor and hacking at Prince Rurik and the soldiers with big, nasty axes, while another Charr shot flaming arrows at them with a bow. The last one threw balls of magic fire at them that Gwen was sure would burn them to a crisp.

But the prince and his soldiers held their ground, slowly pushing back the two Charr with the axes, and Gwen saw that Nathel was a short distance behind them, firing arrow after arrow at the Charr ranger. The monster didn't go down at first, even after two of Nathel's arrows thudded into its chest. But then a third hit it, this time in the neck, and then the Charr finally fell down and didn't get up. It was at that same moment that the two Charr warriors suddenly rushed toward Prince Rurik, swatting the other soldiers aside except one who managed to stay on his feet and strike back. Gwen saw Nathel shift his bow at once to help the prince and the others.

Gwen winced as fireballs exploded one after another around Nathel and Prince Rurik. The fire-caller! Gwen looked back at him, a horrible realization dawning in her mind. Surely, Nathel and the others hadn't forgotten about the spellcasting Charr, but at the moment they couldn't reach him. Not through those two other Charr and their sharp axes. And the longer the gate stood open, the more likely it was that more Charr would come through it. And then something really bad would happen. But what could she do? She was just a little girl, scared to death of the monsters that were attacking her friend and her prince. But they needed help. They needed time, a moment to let them regroup and push back at the Charr.

Slowly, hardly aware she was moving, Gwen tucked her flute and flowers into her belt and edged out from behind the tree. She crept closer, bending down to stay out of sight, and scooped up three fist-sized rocks from off the ground. Skipping stones across the river was one of her favorite things to do on a warm, sunny afternoon, and she had gotten quite good at pegging skale tads if they wandered too close. But these were no baby skale she was taking aim at now. These were Charr, and they would kill her or capture her if given the chance. Gwen swallowed hard and crept a little closer to the battle, her eyes on the fire-caller. He would have to be first. And she would have to be fast.

Gwen straightened, drew back her arm, and threw the first rock. It sped through the air in a tight, shallow arc and hit the Charr fire-caller right on the side of the head. It wasn't enough to do any real damage, but that had never been Gwen's intention. The monster's spell fizzled out and it shook its head even as Gwen hurled her other two rocks in quick succession, one at each of the Charr warriors. Again, her aim would have made Nathel proud. The stones bopped the two Charr right in the head and they stumbled slightly, just enough for Nathel, Prince Rurik, and the others to press the attack. Gwen turned and ran for the safety of the tree, but then as something sizzled behind her, she shrieked and dove aside as a ball of flame slammed into the ground where she had just been.

She looked up to see the Charr fire-caller looking straight at her, and her blood turned to ice. The monster had recovered more quickly than she had thought. Gwen wanted to move, but fear paralyzed her. She had been able to act while the Charr weren't looking at her, while they didn't know she was there, but now that one did, now that it was coming for her, she couldn't. She managed to stand, but her back bumped into the tree and she could go no further. She was trapped. She couldn't even find her voice to call out Nathel's name, to scream for help. All she could manage was a terrified whimper as the fire-caller raised his staff.

Gwen winced, but the fireball never came.

The spellcasting Charr suddenly stiffened, let out a pained grunt as its eyes widened, and fell on its face, its back full of arrows. At first, Gwen could hardly believe it. But then she looked up and saw Nathel rushing toward her, casting his bow aside and reaching out for her. “Gwen! Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

She flew into his arms, still trembling. “I'm sorry, Nathel! I'm so sorry!”

“It's alright, Gwen. It's over. We won. But why didn't you stay behind? Why did you follow us? You know what the Charr did to me, to my sister. I don't want that to happen to you.”

“I know. I was just so scared for you. I was afraid the Charr would get you.”

Gwen's chest hitched, but she blinked away the few tears that escaped her eyes. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't. Not with the prince nearby. She had to be strong. The sounds of battle had stopped, and when she looked past Nathel, Gwen saw that the two Charr warriors were on the ground, dead like the others. It really was over. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and stepped away. She could be strong, too. Just like the others. Like her mommy and daddy. And Farrah and Devona. And Nathel. She looked at him. “I'm okay, now.”

And then she looked and saw that the prince, Prince Rurik himself, was walking toward her! Her and Nathel, that was. Probably just Nathel. Still, it was wonderful to see him up close, just the same. While his soldiers closed and locked the gate, he sheathed his flaming sword and stood before her, tall and handsome and regal, and Gwen was suddenly very much aware of her plain dress and bare, dusty feet. She felt very much like a muddy peasant girl as he looked at her. “Are you alright? I did not mean for you to be caught up in the battle.”

Gwen nodded. “I... I'm fine, Your Higness. Thank you.”

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Gwen, sir.”

Prince Rurik knelt before her so that he was at eye level with her. “You did a very brave thing back there, Gwen. Dangerous, yes, but also brave.”

“I... I did?” Gwen blinked. “I was brave?”

“Indeed, Gwen. I have seen men in full armor flee at the first sight of a Charr war party. But you did not. And you gave us the moment we needed to strike back at these foul beasts. Had you not distracted them when you did, things might have turned out much worse for us.”

Gwen could hardly believe it. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“If anything,” he smiled, “it is I who should thank you. Bravery does not mean the absence of fear. It is acting in spite of it, which you did today. With courage such as yours, I foresee that you could become one of Ascalon's finest defenders one day, if you so wished it. And, if I may say so, one of its loveliest as well.”

He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it, and Gwen blushed so red she thought she must look like one of Mary Malone's apples. Prince Rurik though she was brave! And beautiful! Gwen forgot all about the Charr and how afraid she had been of them. She beamed, giggling helplessly as he rose to his feet and thanked Nathel for his assistance in the battle, saying he foresaw great things in his future. Of course Gwen could have told him that. As she waved goodbye to the prince and followed Nathel down the road to Green Hills County, she felt as though her feet never touched the ground.

----------

The first flakes of snow were just beginning to drift down around her when Gwen spotted Nathel heading toward her from farther down the shore of the lake. He was alone, and Gwen guessed that Whisper had gone off his own to find a place amidst the rocky slopes and towering pines to weather out the coming storm. The wind had picked up a little, tossing the edges of her cloak, but so far it wasn't too bad yet. She waved to Nathel and hurried toward him, her heart beating a little faster.

“Gwen!” he called, waving back. “Everything alright?”

She reached him a moment later. “Yes, but there's a storm coming, I think.”

“One of those Norn snowbiters, if I've read the wind right. It's heading in from the northeast and moving fast, so we'd better get going.”

“A snowbiter?” Gwen wondered, walking with him back the way she had come.

Nathel nodded. “It's a particularly vicious kind of blizzard, so cold and windy that the snow feels like teeth sinking into your skin and ripping it right off. That's why the Norn call it a snowbiter. Tough as they are, even they won't go out into one of those.”

“We'll be able to make it back, won't we?”

“I think so. The storm isn't here just yet. But it will be, soon.”

Despite Nathel's words, Gwen felt that knot of unease in her gut deepen. She didn't know quite why. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the tapestry shred, taking comfort in the feel of it in her hand, the soft texture of the fabric against her skin. It calmed her a little. She thought of clear, sunny skies, of warm afternoons, of a picnic she'd had as a little girl with Nathel long ago. She thought of asking him later if he wanted to have one with her again someday, when spring came. They would talk and they would laugh. And maybe—

Her thoughts scattered as the wind shrieked and howled, whipping around her like some vengeful spirit as the snow started to fall faster. Gwen quickened her pace as Nathel did likewise, but it seemed like they gained no ground. The keep loomed ahead of them, little more than a bulky shadow in the distance, but drew no closer. Gwen wondered if they would ever reach it. They were only a little over a mile away, but in this weather, it might as well have been ten. And then a sudden gust of wind tore the tapestry shred from her fingers and sent it tumbling away across the snow.

Gwen ran after it, her eyes wide. “No!”

“Gwen!” Nathel shouted, his voice barely audible over the banshee wail of the rising storm. “Gwen, wait! Come back! There's no time!”

But she ignored him. She had to get the tapestry shred back. She had to! It meant so much to her, his gift. She couldn't bear to lose it. But it flitted just out of her reach as the wind blew it away from the slopes, away from the trees and out over the white vastness of the frozen lake. Gwen followed, running as fast as she could, but the old bit of fabric stayed maddeningly beyond her grasp. She had lost so much over the years, so many people and things she had treasured and loved. Was this to be taken from her as well? Gwen blinked away the tears that threatened to blur her vision and continued on, her legs burning with exertion.

The wind then died down so abruptly for a moment that Gwen stumbled and fell flat on her stomach onto the ice. The tapestry shred lay in front of her, and she grabbed it before it could elude her again. Now she did cry, just a little, as she stood up and held the tapestry shred against her before tucking it securely into her pocket. She wiped her face and eyes and felt her cheeks turn pink as she saw Nathel hurrying toward her, and as he did so, the full weight of what she had just done hit her like a fist slamming into her gut. By the gods, was she insane? What had she been thinking, risking her life over a little piece of faded cloth? Gwen ran a hand through her hair and found no answers, utterly embarrassed and not sure what to say as Nathel drew near.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Gwen somehow managed to find her voice. “Yes. Sorry about that, I just...”

“It's okay. I saw what happened. Did you get it back?”

“It's right here in my pocket, Nathel. I didn't want to lose your gift. But I guess it was a pretty crazy thing to do, wasn't it?”

He nodded. “Just a little, yeah. Come on, le—“

“What?” Gwen blinked. “What is it?”

“Don't move,” he said, his face suddenly pale he looked down at the ice.

Gwen followed his gaze, realizing for the first time just how far out onto the lake she had gotten. Despite the snow piling up all around her, she could still see the thick sheet of ice that covered the surface of the lake. Only here, it wasn't so thick. And in growing horror, she saw a series of spiderweb cracks beneath her feet. Then, as the wind picked up again, there was a snapping sound, and another and another, and the patch of ice where she stood shattered and collapsed.

With a terrified scream, Gwen plunged into the freezing waters of the lake.

Malla13 · Mar 24, 2009, 11:02 PM // 23:02

AH! What happens next????

This is a very nicely written story. I'd love to read more.

stevenrussian · Mar 26, 2009, 01:58 AM // 01:58

Wow! The story is amazing!

Trey · Mar 27, 2009, 03:28 AM // 03:28

Very good prose. Read a bit, but not all, but I can tell you have a fine vision for storytelling.

Axwind · Mar 27, 2009, 02:21 PM // 14:21

Thanks! I'll see about getting the next chapter up soon, it's about halfway done so it shouldn't be much longer.

Axwind · Apr 12, 2009, 12:39 AM // 00:39

“Gwen!”

Nathel dove toward the edge of the hole in the ice, his heart pounding as Gwen splashed into the frigid waters of the lake and disappeared beneath the surface for several long, agonizing moments. Dropping to his knees and plunging his arms in after her, Nathel searched frantically for her, for her hand or wrist or anything he could hold onto. The water was bitterly cold, and his fingers began to grow numb almost at once. Gwen wouldn't last long in there, he knew. She would freeze to death if he didn't get her out within the next few minutes.

Suddenly he felt something seize his hand, and he pulled back as hard as he could, grabbing onto Gwen with both hands as she finally resurfaced, sputtering and splashing and gasping for air. Nathel pulled her out of the water and onto the ice, where she collapsed onto her stomach and coughed up a mouthful of water, shaking and shivering uncontrollably, her breath coming in a series of short, shallow gasps. But there was no time to linger. The air was growing colder, and the storm fiercer. The wind howled, whipping past Nathel's face in chilly gusts as the snow fell faster and faster. There was no way he and Gwen could reach the Eye now.

Helping Gwen struggle to her feet, Nathel took off his cloak and wrapped it around her, not liking how constantly she was shivering and trembling, nor how pale her skin was becoming. She was soaked, and that would only make it worse for her. Nathel started to shiver himself and slipped his arm around Gwen's shoulder, both to keep her from stumbling and to share some of the heat from his body. She looked at him. “Th-Th-Thank y-you, Nathel. B-But won't you b-b-be c-cold, t-t-too?”

“I'll be alright,” he answered, leading her back toward the shore. He wished it were true, but he saw no reason to tell her that. His armor would help keep out the chill, but not for very long. Somehow, he and Gwen had to find shelter, and soon.

“W-What are w-w-we g-going to d-d-do now?”

Nathel thought there might still be a chance for them. “There's a cave near here, Gwen. I remember seeing it when I first came out here earlier. I think we'll be alright in there.”

“I-I hope s-s-s-so,” she said, her teeth chattering.

It didn't take too long to find the cave once they reached the shore. It was just up the ridge a bit, a yawning mouth in the hillside nearly hidden by a cluster of towering pine trees. As he and Gwen passed beneath them and approached the entrance, Nathel let go of her shoulder and motioned for her to go on inside. “Can you make it the rest of the way by yourself? I need to find some wood for a fire. We have to stay warm—you especially—or we won't make it through the night.”

“Y-Yes, I th-think so,” she nodded.

“Alright. Don't go too far inside, though. Wait for me. I won't be long.”

While Gwen made her way into the cave, Nathel turned his attention to the nearby trees. The branches were soaked and covered with snow, and most of the fallen pine cones and twigs he found were just as wet. He found a few that were only damp, though, scattered here and there near the trunks of the evergreens, and so he scooped them up and stuffed them in his pack. Only kindling, though. He had to find some real wood, but where? Ignoring the cold as best he could, he walked along the ridge and searched the trees, dozens of them, and not one had branches dry enough to break off and use. And the fallen wood around them was no better off. Most of it was blanketed with snow.

And the storm was getting worse. As bad as it was, with the wind shrieking in his ears now and the snow starting to sweep down around him, he knew it wasn't even at half its full strength yet. But it would be, and soon. Nathel shivered and decided that if he didn't find anything within the next few minutes, he would head back with what little he had and join Gwen in the cave.

He was just about to turn around and do just that after finding only a bit more kindling when he spotted a fallen tree lying in half-buried in the snow. But there was a bare patch of ground near the bottom of one end where insects had eaten away the wood some time ago and left a deep hollow along the trunk's underside. And lying on the ground beneath that hollow, sheltered somewhat from the falling snow, were a handful of broken branches that must have snapped off when the tree had hit the ground. Probably it had been struck by lightning during another storm, Nathel wasn't sure. Nor did he care. The branches were mostly dry, at least for a good part of their length, and not so thick that he couldn't snap them into smaller pieces to better serve as firewood. He did so, stuffed them into his pack, and hurried back to the cave.

Gwen was there, just inside as he had told her. She looked up as he entered. “Nathel! D-Did you f-find a-a-anything?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Let's move in a bit further, though.”

He led her deeper into the cave. It wasn't large, only about fifty feet or so at its deepest point, but it would do. Gwen sat down, still shivering, near the back wall while Nathel knelt nearby, slid his pack from his shoulders, and took out all the wood he had collected along with his flint and tinder. He piled up a few of the broken branches along with some of the damp kindling, then lit it. Soon enough, he had a small fire burning, its welcome heat spreading through the cave.

Nathel stretched out his hands toward it and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. “We might just make it after all, Gwen. Don't you think?”

“Y-Yes,” she said, “but I-I'm still c-c-cold.”

She was still clutching herself and shivering despite the fire, and Nathel thought he knew why. He rummaged through his pack, hoping what he was looking for was there. It was. He usually kept a spare set of clothes in there just in case he was out in the wild longer than he expected. Just a tunic and leggings, but it was better than leaving her in her own soaked clothes. He took out his folded garments and handed them to Gwen. “Here. They'll be a little big for you, I'm afraid, but they're dry.”

She managed a weak smile. “Th-Thank you, Nathel. Now t-t-turn around. Or did you p-p-plan to watch me undress?”

“No, no,” he said, his cheeks turning pink. “I, uh... I”ll just wait over here.”

He walked over to the other side of the fire and sat down with his back to Gwen, his blood suddenly very hot in his veins. It didn't help much that aside from the crackling of the fire and the distant wailing of the storm outside, he could hear the rustling of fabric behind him as Gwen took off her wet clothes and put on the dry ones he had given her. He looked at the cave wall, at the flickering shadows dancing across it, and tried without much success to calm his racing heart.

A moment later, he heard Gwen's voice. “You can look now, Nathel.”

He did so, turning around so that he was facing her, and as he had thought, his extra clothes had been a little too big for her. But that was alright. It would help her keep her hands and feet warm, since he'd had no extra boots or gloves to give her and her own were still soaked along with the rest of her clothes. She had lain them out on the ground near the fire so they could dry, and now she slipped on his cloak again and sat down close to the dancing flames.

Nathel moved over to sit next to her. “Better?”

“Yes, much,” she nodded. “Thank you. I feel much warmer now.”

“You're welcome, Gwen.”

He shivered despite the fire's growing heat, his armor not quite able to keep out the lingering chill in the air. Nathel glanced toward the mouth of the cave and saw that snow was piling up in deep drifts and swirling through the air in heavy sheets. It would probably be blocked up by morning. But there was nothing he could do about that now. At least they had enough wood to keep the fire going. He would be a little cold tonight without his cloak, but he didn't mind. Gwen needed it more than he did. And even if she hadn't fallen in the lake, he would have given it to her anyway.

Nathel sat with his back against the cave wall, and he was just resting for a moment when he felt Gwen pressing against him, the warmth of her body next to his driving the chill from his body and the thoughts from his mind. Gods, she was so close. He couldn't take his eyes from her. Nor did he want to. He let her lift his arm up and place it around her shoulders as she she wrapped her own around his. She really was beautiful. Why hadn't he ever seen it before? Why hadn't he allowed himself to see it?

Perhaps, he realized, because before, he had always seen her as the little girl he had once known, a little sister like Alanna. But not anymore. She wasn't a child anymore. She was a woman. A strong, beautiful young woman that he had fallen deeply in love with. But he had hurt her, too. He had never meant to, but through his absence when she had needed him the most, she had suffered so much. Nathel had done everything he could to heal the pain the Charr had inflicted upon her, but he knew that she would never be as she once was.

“Stay close to me, Nathel,” Gwen said. “You need to stay warm, too.”

He nodded. “I will, Gwen. Thank you.”

“It's the least I could do. Besides, being close to you like this helps me stay warm, too. If... if we stay like this all night, the cold won't touch us. The fire, and our body heat, will keep it away.”

She spread his cloak over both of them as much as she could, and Nathel's other hand found hers. He had never touched it before without her glove covering it. The softness of her skin heated his blood, and butterflies swam in his stomach as he felt her fingers clasp his. They were small and slender, a mesmer's fingers, and he loved them. As he loved her.

----------

Sitting in the shade of a tall elm tree, Nathel took another bite of the apple Mary Malone had given him as part of his reward for getting her basket back. She had given him and Gwen each an apple after they had returned with it from the orchard near Fort Ranik. That had been their next stop after dropping off Little Thom's cloak in Green Hills County and talking with Grazden, Farrah Cappo, a necromancer named Kasha, and Duke Barradin. Devona had been uncertain of their loyalty to King Adelbern and so had sent him to subtly test them, but her fears had been unfounded. She had been quite pleased at his report upon their return to Ashford, and from there, he and Gwen had gone on to Regent Valley and Fort Ranik. Duke Barradin had a task for him there, and according to Haversdan, there were two rangers in here that could teach him a few things.

He had only met one so far, Ivor, after about two-thirds of the long walk to Fort Ranik. Nathel had always thought himself a good shot with a bow, but Ivor's skill had put him to shame. Fortunately, the older man had been more than willing to train him for a while and test his marksmanship. In the end, Nathel had learned how to read the wind and fire arrows at point blank range when he had to.

After reaching Fort Ranik, helping Mary, and delivering the duke's message, Nathel had bought himself and Gwen some food from the merchants there. Bread and cheese, mainly, to go with the apples Mary had given them. But it was too nice a day to just sit around inside the keep while they ate. So he had taken Gwen back down the road a bit to a low, grassy hill near one of the tall stone bridges that spanned the river here and there all throughout the valley. From where he and Gwen sat near the top of the wooded slope, they could see for quite a distance in almost any direction they looked.

“It's so pretty,” Gwen said, munching on her own apple and some cheese.

Nathel took a sip from his waterskin and then handed it to her. “Sure is.”

“Thanks. So, what's next?”

“That other ranger is here, too,” Nathel said. “I think I saw him back near Ashford, but I wanted to get our stuff done at the fort first. So after lunch, we'll go see him.”

Gwen drank some water and grinned. “Okay. What's he gonna teach you?”

“I don't know. We'll find out, I guess.”

It was peaceful here, and for a while, Nathel was almost able to forget about the Charr and the battle he had recently fought against them. It had been the first in the four years since they had taken his sister and his home from him. He had been twelve years old when they had killed Alanna. She had only been eight. Nathel didn't think the Charr had meant to kill her—they often used children as slaves—but she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the chaos of the battle, Alanna had been torn from his side by the Charr and had tried to break free, only to be hit by a fire-caller's blast before she could get back to him.

Tossed through the air like the worn-out old doll she had always carried with her, she had hit the ground hard and not gotten back up. She hadn't moved at all. Nathel had tried to get to her, but then a Charr fist had slammed into the side of his head. The world had swum around him, but before he had lost consciousness, he had heard the sound of steel on steel and men yelling battle cries. And then everything had gone black.

He had awoken later and found himself in a small camp with about a dozen men and women in armor and a trio of monks tending the wounded, including himself. One of the monks, a young woman named Lina, had told him as she checked his head and arm that she and the rest had been sent from the Ascalon Vanguard to help evacuate the refugees of Surmia and the surrounding villages. Nathel had looked around for Alanna, hoping against hope that she was somehow still alive, but she hadn't been there.

Almost afraid to know the answer, he had asked Lina about her. She hadn't been that much older than him, Nathel remembered. Lina had only been about seventeen or eighteen at the time and the youngest of the three healers in the group. But she had spotted Alanna's crumpled form amongst the tangled bodies of some of the other refugees that she and Nathel had been traveling with. There had been no time to see to the dead, however, for there had still been too many Charr nearby. But almost an hour after the attack, the Vanguard patrol had sent out a burial detail to lay the fallen to rest. Lina had taken Nathel to see the mound not long afterward, and it was there that he had said his goodbye to Alanna and sworn to make the Charr pay.

Since then, he had kept up his training, practicing his archery and survival skills every day. Although at first he had been obsessed with hurting the Charr as they had hurt him, Nathel had eventually come to understand the difference between vengeance and justice, although it hadn't been easy for him to accept at first. But he hadn't been alone. Lina and her father had taken him in after the attack, and over the last few years she had helped him let go of his need for revenge. Now, all he wanted to do was protect his family, his homeland, and his people from anyone or anything that sought to harm them.

As he finished his apple, Nathel glanced at Gwen. He hadn't told her, but when he had realized during the battle at the gate that she was there and that the Charr knew it, it had scared the hell out of him. Memories of the past, of Alanna, had flashed through his mind, and it had seemed like that terrible day was happening all over again. Nathel had forgotten about Rurik and the soldiers. All he had seen was Gwen, diving away from the fire-caller's blast and trembling with fear. The next moment had been a blur of fear and adrenaline and near-panic as Nathel had nearly emptied his quiver into the Charr spellcaster, arrow after arrow flying from his bow and into the hulking beast's back and side. It hadn't been until Gwen had rushed into his arms and told him she was alright that Nathel's heart had finally slowed its frenetic beat.

“Are you ready to go?” Nathel asked, his thoughts returning to the present.

Gwen nodded, polishing off the last of her apple. “Yeah! Thanks for the picnic, Nathel. It was fun!”

“You're welcome, Gwen. I liked it, too.”

Rising to his feet, Nathel gathered up their things, stuffing them into his pack and leaving nothing behind to show he and Gwen had ever been there. They walked on down the hill, Nathel with his bow in hand and Gwen with her flute pressed against her lips as she played a merry tune. Butterflies flew amongst the flowers and the tall grass, and the sun hung high in the afternoon sky. Higher than it had been, Nathel thought. He would have to leave soon. Sir Tydus would be expecting him before long.

Nathel and Gwen walked back down the winding road toward Ashford, and before too long, they found the second ranger. Nente was his name, and he wanted Nathel to go back up the road a little and befriend one of the stalkers roaming the nearby woods near the shrine of Melandru. Rangers often traveled with an animal companion, and it was one of the things he had been looking forward to most in his training. When he had been a boy, his father had taught him a little bit about how to communicate with animals, how to understand them and learn from them. The big black grizzly bear his father had known had almost been like another family member in those quiet days before Nathel had seen them leave to go fight in the guild war. They had never returned.

It didn't take long for Nathel to find one of the stalkers Nente had spoken of. This one was a little bigger than average, with brown and black spotted fur and watchful, amber eyes that followed his every move. Motioning for Gwen to stay back a few steps and put her flute away for now―the sound of it might startle the big cat―Nathel approached the animal one slow, delicate step at a time, his bow slung over his back and his hands open. The cat inched forward, curious, and Nathel stopped, letting it draw closer of its own accord. It sniffed his hand, its nose wet and cool and its whiskers tickling his fingers.

A moment later, the big cat sat down, and Nathel relaxed. He scratched between its ears and glanced back at Gwen. “It's okay now, Gwen. Come here and say hi.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah. It won't bite. I promise.”

She walked over to him. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” Nathel said.

Gwen reached out and touched the big cat's broad shoulder, her fingers sliding lightly across the dark fur. “Wow, he's so soft! What are you going to call him?”

“I don't know. What do you think?”

“Me?” Gwen blinked. “How about... Whisper? Since he moves so quiet and all.”

Nathel smiled. “I like it.”

Malla13 · Apr 14, 2009, 01:56 AM // 01:56

Beautiful. This is the most adorable piece of fanfiction I've ever read. So glad you posted some more!

Arctica · Apr 14, 2009, 07:18 AM // 07:18

Excellent! Thank you for sharing it with us. I am eagerly looking forward to reading some more.

Axwind · Apr 18, 2009, 04:18 PM // 16:18

Thanks! Glad you guys like it. And yes, the Lina in the story is the same Lina you can have as a hench later in Prophecies and EotN.

kazjun · May 19, 2009, 03:56 AM // 03:56

I like it. Very nice. More please