Talla

So much snow. It’s so cold here…how do they live in a city like this all year long? This place is more cursed than my village. Figures I’m the one who has to look for the human.

Children noticed her first—they always did. Adults were always too preoccupied and even their prejudices took a backseat to self-absorbedness. But children are a curious lot and they are the first to say, ‘That lady has pointy ears!’ with the most innocent of voices. It was then that the others noticed her. No one said anything about her openly, of course, and if they met her eyes they would smile politely and welcome her as they would any other foreigner.

But they still clutch their children and keep a polite distance from me. Probably don’t even think of themselves as rude or cruel. It wasn’t as though most of them hated elves, but the Deathless Curse made them keep distance as if afraid it was contagious. Foolish creatures, if this curse affected beings other than elves we wouldn’t be so desperate to break it. The entire world would be looking for a way to do it, not just forcing us to come up with a solution by ourselves. Yet this was hardly new and hardly exclusive to humans: Giants, Wolves, Demons and Flames were all the same. At least this town was polite about their fear.

There were, she would find, two exceptions to this polite fear.

The first was a young man.

“Ahoy!” The tall young man’s voice was jovial and he walked toward her without hesitation. His smile was bright but his clothes and hair were dark. He looks just like I imagined every Stormener, Talla thought. Grey eyes, serious to the point where even an honest smile gives off the impression of a man worrying over the future. Often those descriptions were exaggerations at best and narrow at worst. No description can apply to an entire city, yet travelers often did so just the same and most of them in the village took their word for it, even if they knew it was probably not accurate.

Yet this man appeared to fit those words all too well.

“It is not often visitors grace Stormhelm.” He was smiling at her but somehow it appeared as though he were brooding at the same time. It was as if he was eternally overcast by some sort of darkness yet did not appear entirely bothered by the thought. “And this visitor appears to have traveled far.”

She saw his eyes fixate on her ears for a moment and I hesitated. “Far, yes,” she acknowledged. Talla was watching her words carefully. “Travel from Bosque to Stormhelm is quite difficult. The Redgraves have not yet built a direct road toward it.”

Immediately, she regretted her words. It was a long complaint that the Redgraves did not care for keeping the roads with the elven village open. It was hardly the way to make a good first impression. Humans surely tired of the complaint—even if it was valid. “I did not mean—”

He chuckled and held out a hand to interrupt her. “No, there is no need for an apology, my lady. There is much the Redgraves should do.” He looked over his shoulder and Talla followed his gaze at the large castle overlooking the town: Stormkeep, ancestral castle of the Redgraves. So much stone. It felt unreal to look at something so tall and yet so artificial. Talla had seen other parts of the world, but this was the first ancestral castle she laid her eyes on. The young man noticed her expression and said kindly, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

That wasn’t the word she would have used. “Yes,” she said.

“Scary as well,” he muttered. “Being watched by that tall, grey structure…it’s scary. Aye, it offers some security, peace…but mighty heavy weight, it is. The responsibilities of living under it are something to consider.” He paused solemnly and Talla allowed him the silence to think. “Forgive me, my lady. I ramble on while you suffer from the cold…that will not do.”

“The cold is not a problem,” she lied. Truthfully, her skin had passed the point of cold and started to feel numb. How did those people live like this? “I have grown used to it.”

“That is funny,” he replied, laughing quietly. “When I was born in this world, the snow blocked out the sun. It was not true darkness, I am told, but I was six months old before I saw actual sunlight over this vague bright whiteness in the sky. Even so, I am not used to the cold and I am dressed properly for the weather. Are elves immune to the cold?”

“That is not—I did not mean—“ A number of polite responses ran through her mind and she was unsure as to the correct one.

There was no need for a decision, it turned out, because the young man took off his own cloak and wrapped it around her. Grey sheepskin. The one thing Stormeners were famous for. Wintersheep were a strange breed that survived in extremely harsh conditions and shed off wool very frequently when taken care of. Southern territories often mocked them for this and their relative lack of luxury. Even Bosque made jests at their expense. “Thank you,” Talla said, hesitantly. “Will you be fine?”

“I was born without the sun, my lady.”

“And as you just said, even yourself aren’t used to the cold.” Talla looked around. “The wind is picking up. It might begin to snow again.”

“That is always the case this time of the year.” His tone was dismissive, but upon seeing the concern on her face he nodded and said, “Let us continue this conversation at an inn, then. You must be hungry after your long travels and I suspect a warm fire will do you some good…perhaps a strong drink as well.”

She wondered whether politeness or honesty were preferable, and decided on the latter. “If the things I have heard about Stormeners and their drinks are even half-correct, I should maybe refuse the drink. I will not turn down the fire, however.”

The young man smiled. “Let us go then.”

“If I may—I need to visit your Master of Coin first. I have some gold for emergencies, but I am afraid most of my purse carries elven tokens. It would probably be prudent to make the exchange before going to an establishment like that.”

“Worry not. It is my treat, fair lady.”

Talla eyed him suspiciously. “I say this not as a complaint but merely as an explanation of my confusion—I have never been treated like that in any of the Six Princedoms.”

“Then let this be a showing of Winterland hospitality.” His voice wasn’t warm. There was a sort of gentle coldness to it as if he found humor in it but remained distant. “My lady?”

“As you wish.”

He took her to a building that looked nearly identical to the others beside it, yet did not appear lost or hesitant about which one to choose. It was a slightly larger building than the others, and soon after opening the door, she felt the warmth of a fire reinvigorate her. I didn’t realize how cold I was until I came in. Only now she realized how wet the inside of her boots was and how she wished to be wearing anything else. Yet that would have to wait.

“Lady Pella!” the young man cried out. A stern, dark-haired middle-aged woman turned her neck toward him. Despite what he had called her, she was clearly no nobility of any sort. “Can we have the private room for dinner? My friend just had a long trip and being close to the fire might…”

“Of course.” Pella didn’t smile, precisely, but the corners of her mouth softened slightly. Talla had her cloak pulled over her head, partially out of cold, partially to hide her ears. “We will bring you food and drink soon.”

The tavern wasn’t particularly large for most, though Talla considered it quite big, holding a dozen boisterous tables where men proclaimed they could drink more and women laughed at their drunkenness—though some joined in on the drinking as well. Stormeners are a strange folk. A bard played in the leftmost corner of the room, standing on a small wooden platform and singing tunes to songs she did not recognize. It seemed nice to be near that vibrant atmosphere, but she was still thankful when they went through a door in the back and found themselves alone in a tiny room with a single table and fire.

“I have not yet thanked you for your kindness,” Talla said to the young man.

“And you needn’t.”

“And I will.” Talla smiled. “Thank you. I will not dwell on it if it would make you uncomfortable, but I promise you my kind isn’t well liked anywhere else.” She was not certain it was liked here, either, but this human had been kind and she appreciated it greatly.

“It must be tough,” the young man said, hesitantly. The two took a seat at the table. “To travel as an elf.”

“It’s tough to be an elf these days,” Talla grunted. Shit. Too much honesty there. “Forgive my tone, I—”

“You needn't be so formal,” the young man told her. “I promise.”

Somehow, that was all she needed to take a deep breath and relax into a smile—a genuine one now, rather than one she had practiced. “Then, if you don’t mind me saying it—your town is very confusing. I got lost a few times before you found me.”

“Confusing? How?” He laughed. “A straight line all the way. There is only one road that leads to the castle with houses and taverns built on either side. You cannot get lost here.”

“Because every house looks the same!” Talla shot back, smirking. “Everything is gray stone.”

He gave a mild shrug in response. “You can tell what things are where if you have been here for long enough. Not like anything changes where it is…and the stone is a little different every time. Besides, everything past the Catapult Line is made of wood—mostly. Easy to notice.”

“Easy, my man?” Talla laughed. “And you wonder why you don’t get visitors?”

“Oh no, far from me to imply otherwise. Stormhelm knows why we don’t get visitors,” the young man said. “What I wonder about is what motivates the few visitors we do get to come visit us.” And he stopped meaningfully, resting his eyes on her.

He appeared well-off enough, considering his offer to pay for her meal. It was possible he had friends in high places, and there was hardly much lose with asking the question. “I came here to look for Von of Redgrave.”

The young man watched me for a moment. “Are you looking for him as the swordsman or as the nobleman?”

“As the swordsman. He is the greatest human swordsman in the Six Principalities, after all. The man is the overall #8 swordsman in the country last I checked and #1 human. I believe he is #32 in the world right now as well.” Talla looked up meaningfully. “And my village needs him.”

“Why does an entire village need a single swordsman?”

She hesitated. This wasn’t something most people knew, but it was hardly a secret—the information was there if you knew where to look. And stressing it might help him understand why this was so pressing. I might as well go for it. Fine. Let us see if honesty will make you help me...or run away from me.