Where the Wind Blows?

Barrow's Dell

''A sheltered hollow with a bowl-shaped dell at the bottom that rests within the western side of the hill known as Barrow's Range. Old wooden supports prevent the roof of the dell from collapsing, while a smooth tunnel connects the dell to the ruins above.''

Gaps in the wall of the dell permit a panoramic view of the western horizon from a vantage point of three hundred feet above the ground, granting those within a presentation of the rolling grasslands below the hill that gradually darken to become a vast desert of ashen soil far to the west.

''A ring of stones in the middle of the dell presents a well-used shelterfor camp fires, while a branch of whatever natural spring keeps the clear pool of water up in the ruins filled trickles down into this area, providing a rocky pool of clean water. The occasional carrot or potato also seem to grow here, apparently having been planted by other travellers over the years.''

A refuge from the elements deep within the core of the hill, Barrow's Dell remains an safe haven for those looking for a night of safe sleep, or for those wishing to heal wounds after an unfortunate encounter.

Taran is resting by the fire. Smears of dirt suggest the bard's been moving things about.

Celeste stirs near the campfire. Up late, she's slept far too late and is resting under the fragrant scent of a horse blanket. Leaning up, she stifles a yawn, and looks first for the huntress before seeking who else may be stirring.

"Blackfox has gone out, as has Sandrim," says Taran quietly. "Kallyn and Garis sleep."

She glances over towards Taran, nodding absently. "Ah, good to hear she's up and moving, then. How are you," she prompts and curls to her haunches to begin folding up the worn blanket.

"Better," Taran replies. "I hear that you were able to treat Blackfox. Do you know what the darkness was?"

Celeste shakes her head. "I've not seen a wound like that before," she confesses, rather sheepishly. "You have only to call, Taran. As I told Blackfox, I would scale the Aegis to help you and the others."

Taran blinks. "I did call," he points out. "Though I startled your guests, it seems. I had not seen such a wound before and did not think it wise to delay."

"You did wisely," she replies, summoning up a wry smile for the bard. "I can speak with the on the matter later. They're my students, in a way, now."

Taran sighs. "I do not like gating about willy-nilly. It always startles people."

Celeste chuckles, bobbing her head in agreement. "As we were just discussing the shadow, I cannot agree more. But, you came when I was needed, and I would expect nothing less, dear. You," she looks up again, meeting his gaze. "And the others are my friends, Taran. No matter where you go now."

Taran nods, pulling up a knee under his chin. "Aye, that seems to be the best word."

"What word," Celeste prompts. Her brow furrowing. "Taran, I know you're hurt, but this isn't like you."

Taran shakes his head. "Just thinking," he says. "In the rise and in the fall, you never did say whether you would have married me."

"I did, Taran," Celeste counters. "When you asked if we could be together, and if I would come to the Refuge, were you accepted. I did agree. But I look at how Sandrim looks at you, Taran. Sense how he feels," she explains. "It does not take your gift for me to see how in love he is, and you should open your heart to him, Taran. Allow yourself to be happy."

"And you think I would not be happy with you?" asks Taran quietly. "Listen to yourself. If I told you to open your heart to...whoever, and love them because they loved you - would it make any difference?" "You did," she sighs. Pushing to her feet, she walks over to settle down beside him. "Taran, do you not remember what you asked of me with Lord Lyddmull? The power and politics?"

"Was not what you asked of me that day, the same," Celeste prompts and reaches out to catch his chin. "Taran, would you believe me if I tried to explain that what we are a part of is larger than you or I? It hurts me to see you so lonely, dear."

"We are all part of something greater than ourselves," Taran replies mildly. "It's called living, Celeste, when your eyes are open. Why is it so wrong to want something for yourself, if it hurts no one else?"

Celeste smiles, albeit a little sad. "I've asked myself that question many a lonely night, Taran," she sighs. "I try to believe that there's something else, another purpose that I should be tending."

"You are part of the whole, Celeste," says Taran, poking at the fire. "To damage yourself is to damage the whole, and all the ways that you tie to it."

"What to you mean, Taran? Should I want something for myself, a singular pleasure... why is it that it must hurt the whole," she questions.

"You do not take care of yourself," Taran answers. "You sacrifice. Always. You cannot have this or that for yourself because you must serve the greater purpose." He makes a face. "That is only true *sometimes*. Sometimes, if you do not take something for yourself, the greater purpose loses *you*."

Celeste reaches out to take his hand. "Taran, I watch over those that are lost. A shepard at times, but one willing to educate. The only happiness that I can enjoy of late is seeing your flowers in a new light," she says. "Do you feel that you're not part of his whole, dear?"

Taran sighs. "You are quite good at redirecting the conversation," he says. "And...it has reached a point where watching you avoid it is painful. So let me be direct enough for us both. You want me to rise up, do something bigger. Chances are, in time I will. But I feel I have lost you, in this latest setback. That you would not have me, nor wait for me. It will take me time, to find a way forward. Waiting for, siezing opportunities as they arise. And I have no objection to that - not to the time, nor effort required. But if you will not wait for me, if you do not wish to be my wife...let me grieve for that now, and not when I have sacrificed yet more of my life to it. I do not have the heart, just now, for dreams that cannot be made real."

Celeste sighs, reaching out to draw Taran closer. "Dear, I worry you are running away. That you remain here, in pain for fear of what has happened... or anger or pain. This grieves and hurts me to see. I do not re-direct you, but seek answers for us both."

"Some, wounded, seek the comfort of friends," Taran replies. "Others seek solitude; I am one of those. Am I not allowed time to mend, to grieve?" He shrugs. "You did not answer my question."

"Will I wait for you," she offers. "Where am I to go? The two men I've grown to love, I can hold neither. Taran, look to Sandrim. Let him be like you once suggested Lyddmull to me." She reaches up to cup his cheek, petting tenderly. "I wish to see you smile."

Taran looks, for a moment, *angry* "Shadow *take* it, woman," he growls. "Do you not listen? Have you not seen, already? If you would only tell me that you would have me, I would *find* a way. And I would *do* it. Have I not said so? Have I not *done* so once before? It would take time, yes, and work - how can you doubt, now, that I would and that I *could*?"

"Because anything I've ever wanted has always been denied to me, Taran," Celeste stresses, looking wounded. "After a while, you stop holding your own dreams and help others achieve theirs. Do you not see what he wishes, Taran?"

Garis is, remarkably absent from the Dell at the moment. Though the soft slithering sound from outside might indicate he's on his way back.

"In the main, activities I could have made five hundred imperials for, in the Fetters," Taran says dryly, deflating a bit. "They are such a strong people, Celeste. The people of the Refuge...man for man I would have called them stronger than any group I have ever met. Oh, perhaps not on par with the old Blades in a fight, but what Blade could also run down a deer, kill and butcher a bear, make their own swords and armor?" He shakes his head, sadly. "The strongest people I have ever met. And they were afraid of Eliare. I could not send Varal home. I wanted to, but they were all so afraid...so I let him come, and though they were but twenty men and half of them got eaten, suddenly it is as if we could never have survived the fight if the Torchbearers had not saved us all." Bitter, that. "And now it is too late. I should have remembered, better than they could have known, that mad mages are as nothing compared to the Empire's will."

Speaking of killing and butchering bears, the little huntress slips in from outside, padding silently with Velvel right behind her. She looks considerably better than the night before, moving much easier, the color having returned to her cheeks.

"Varal is my fault, Taran," Celeste counters and reaches out to collect his cheek and meet his gaze. "I was the one who went to him and felt that just a few more men could be of benefit. That was /my/ failing, not yours. We wished only to fight the shadow." She bites to her lower lip, and if there's slithering or footfalls, she doesn't seem to take notice yet. "We're /Mikins/. Do you know what that means? That to fight the shadow is in our blood, has been for over six hundred years."

. Garis slithers in quietly, peering around curiously, silent other than the movement of his tail.

"He came to me, and I gave him permission to come and fight," Taran replies. "That was my call, as Archon. And my mistake. Trouble coming, trouble staying, trouble leaving." He shakes his head. "But you do the same thing - you have no concept of your strength, because so many stand against you." He smiles just a bit wryly. "Celeste, did I but have your faith in me, I could rule the world. The question would only be whether I would want that many people complaining in my ear."

"Why was it a mistake?" Blackfox asks softly as Velvel settles down.

Celeste looks about, seeming to notice that their no longer alone. "Because my uncle is rather rigid in his ways," she explains. "He and I spoke at length for him to come and speak with Taran. But," she looks to Taran again. "You can still mold the Refuge. They will need you, especially now. The warden will only be able to do so much, and you've a better understanding than most of the Empire."

Garis just stays quiet by the door.

Taran shakes his head. "I am deposed," he says to her. "There is no Archon. And the Warden has no authority; Tshepsi is sole ruler of the city. Did I return there and try to do anything I could rightly be accused of sedition. The Refuge does not need that....and if I were needed, I would not have been so summarily dismissed." He looks toward Blackfox. "It was a mistake because in accepting Imperial aid, it made it seem as though we could not be independent without it. It was a mistake because it gave rise to accusations of hypocrisy, for I did not continue with Evaryn's ban on all nobles. And it was a mistake because Varal has a rather bloated sense of importance where his Torchbearers are concerned, and has no problem with holding the belief that without him and his men we would have fallen. Personally, I would rather deal with shadow-touched bears."

"None of which explains why Tshepsi betrayed the Wildlanders as she did," Blackfox replies quietly. "The help of those who fought beside us was welcome, but who can say that we would have fallen without them?" She shakes her head, "And so they have set a warden on us as if we were dogs or children in need of a keeper?"

"The Warden is to see that your ways are upheld and not treated as oddities to be observed," Celeste explains and leans back to her bit of earth. "Nor do I believe that Tshepsi would betray the Wildlanders. Please, my friends. Think on her. She's young and do you truly believe she'd plot against anyone? It is not her way; it is not /her/." She worries her lower lip before continuing. "You're wounded, but can you not see what help that the Empire could bring? Can it not be a new beginning?"

Garis gives Blackfox a sharp look, but holds his tongue for now.

"The Archmage was afraid," sighs Taran. "That is all. She was afraid of Eliare, and wanted to protect her people."

Blackfox sighs, not sounding angry or bitter but rather saddened and defeated, "She set Taran as Archon and put him in charge of such things," she replies. "What else do you call it when she makes a deal of her own which strips him of that power and sets the Wildlanders beneath the nobles again while elevating her own people and protecting them but not the humans of the Refuge? Aye, she was afraid and I do not accuse her of any malice, but..." she looks to Celeste, "I will ask you the same question I posed to Taran, then. He has set the mages free and removed their mark in the same stroke that puts the Refuge beneath the heel of Fastheld. When the Black Wildlings come next, whose children do you think he will sell to them then?"

Celeste rises to her feet, brushing at her skirts. "I will say only this and then take my leave. She did not elevate her people, Blackfox. They're not like you and I, and I believe that is where you misunderstand. They're not children but do not have the years of experience and lessons that we have garnered over our lives. It is merely to keep them from being abused for their innocence and differences. Do not assign them the same as you and I, for they will forever be different, or have you not seen this in Aesyri. You will believe me or not, whichever your hearts say."

She takes a deep breath before continuing, holding up a staying hand. "I've seen the Archmage under more duress than the acarits. When her life was held by a string, and only a deal with a dragon saved her. She's far wiser than many are willing to see, but the white dragon /is/ the Light and would not put her people in harms way. You assign her motivations that she's incapable of having, from whether lack of experience or the malice." She continues without pause. "As to the mark, it was an identifier to explain a danger of a man. Just as scabbard may speak of a swordsman prowess. With the removal of this ban, it allows them freedom. One that, at one point, would have costed their lives. These are steps forward, not back."

She looks about to the gathering, stepping over to get her horse blanket. "You speak of our freelanders as though they're little more than chattel. But the loyalty that a noble garners speaks of his success. One that is abusive, will lose those that run his forges and sells his mead. No, they've a great freedom that I will forever envy. And you, every one of you, has even more freedom than that. But you will not see it until you wish to, for you have a life far more rewarding even still. You've learned to survive where others, and armies have perished."

Garis blinks at all these words. SO many. And most of them go over his head. He stays wisely silent.

"And yet you want us to return to the walls and cities," Taran points out mildly. "Yet - again you did not answer the questions. You wanted me to approach the Prince - but to what end?"

"Do not be angry," Blackfox says timidly, actually retreating a step from the torrent of words, "And do not leave on my account. I will go if that is what you wish, but Taran is right. The question remains unanswered. You say your people are not chattel, yet a dozen children were sold by your prince to the Black Wildlings and still Fastheld bends the knee to him. He penned up his own people, those who bore that mark, and then was no better than a farmer who choosing lambs for the spring feast. Now he holds sway over the Refuge. So tell me...please..." she indeed begs an answer rather than demands, the fear of what might be plain in her voice. "When next he needs a sacrifice, why would he not choose the barbarians who live beyond his walls?"

Celeste smiles faintly. "The prince and regent are two different men. Serath would not have sold children into such a bondage. Nor would the white dragon have allowed him to," she adds. "And yes, Taran, I think you /should/ speak to him. You're brothers in a way." She looks to Fox then, shaking her head. "Serath would be Wardern, I believe, and I truly believe in my heart, that he'd not let any harm come to them. The Regent went the line of convenience and subterfuge. An action that has put him in a questionable position." She looks down to the blanket, giving it an absent brush. "There was no one who was more angry than those of my household to the penning of these people. One of my dear friends nearly lost everything trying to even protect them further. You see the Empire, and not the dragon. It is the dragon that watches over you now, can you not have faith?"

Taran gives Celeste a very, very odd look. "He is a prince of the blood royal, so Sunkissed he does not cast a shadow, and has a dragon living in his head. I am a freelander of no family anyone knows of, mage enough to be jailed for it, and dragons don't so much as acknowledge my existence. On top of which, if I were him, Rowena would probably have had her third child by now instead of waiting for a wedding date. So...I can only say you have a very strange view of brotherhood."

"You both live in a place where all of this..." Blackfox says quietly, "It makes sense to you, somehow. Royalty and nobility, titles and power." She lowers her head as she shakes it, "I am not part of your brotherhood of the light, nor do I share the bonds that tie together those who are touched by shadow...I am not one of Kael's pack nor of any noble household. I am not royal or noble, I hold no rank or authority over anyone...but never has anyone held such over me or mine, either. I...I am just a hunter from the Verdigris who would never be called sister to anyone let alone even noticed or cared about by your prince or regent. We...we are outcasts, either by choice as my kin have been or by decree by those very nobles who now have changed their minds. How...how are we expected understand?" she swallows down the lump in her throat. "You...you are a noble who stands here with a man who you say is as a brother to a prince chiding me for my fears as if they have no basis despite the hole left in my shoulder or the horse that tried to run Evaryn down. How...?" Fox just turns away to Velvel, then, at a loss for words to explain the utter helplessness that she felt and that was evident in her voice.

"Blackfox, you note on exceptions of nobility. Do you think I'd ever ride down a man, or shoot someone without cause, my friend," Celeste prompts. The gentleness returns to her voice as she casts aside the blanket and steps across to Fox. "I call you sister, though there is no blood that runs between us. Taran is a brother in a like way to the prince. Not for his blood but his actions. Titles come at a price, and that is freedom. We must surrender everything to have a hint of the freedom you hold now. No one is asking anything of you, Blackfox, but you worry that it will come. Like a freelander, you have the power to go where you wish, dear."

"Yet still they are nobles," Blackfox replies softly, "And like those who speak of the darkness of the shadow they bear, when I ask if they would give it up, almost all say nay. You claim I am free and you are not and say that you would have to surrender everything to have my freedom." She turns her head to look up at Celeste, "Then why do you not do so?"

"Duty," Celeste states softly. "There are those that would not have a home were it not for me. Others who would stand abused, were it not that I defend them. "Blackfox, nobility is just as the light and shadow in their discernment. A man like that who would run down an innocent in a street needs to stand trial and bear consequence for his actions. But we each pay our price, do we not? Have faith in the Warden and Light, Blackfox."

"My ancestors chose to walk from Fastheld rather than live subject to another," Blackfox replies, still far more confused and uncertain than angry in her tone. "So how...how am I to trust in people who would sell children to wildlings or try to cripple someone because they would not do as they commanded? I do not say there are no good nobles in Fastheld or even that they are few, but if power can be held by the likes of your regent or of Milora...how can who have lived for generations by our own wits and strength put our trust and our lives in the hands of people like that?"

Celeste shakes her head. "Faith," she sighs. "It is your choice to turn away or embrace, Blackfox. Do not look to the past but think on what the future can hold." She bites to her lower lip, and steps away to retrieve the blanket. "We once spoke of Milora at length as well. She's a child, and still you allow her to hold power in your life. Release this pain, and be free," she explains and curls the material against her breast. "You've friends, Blackfox. Whether you wish them or not. And the world will continue to change, we can either accept or hide. Personally, I had hoped to bring you to my home one day. Possibly share in the few dreams that I still harbor, but your path is yours to choose."

Taran leans toward Blackfox, smiling mischievously. "She never calls."

Confusion is the word of the day, the huntress torn and looking more than a bit lost by the enormity of it all when Taran speaks up. Whatever she was about to say is forgotten then as her mouth closes and she looks to the bard, "What?"

Celeste aims a faint smile in Taran's direction. "Where am I to look? I was going to the Refuge, until you came to see me," she comments and looks to Fox.

Taran shakes his head, and reaches over to put one finger on Celeste's pendant, giving her a pointed look. "You do not need to look for me," he reminds her. "I am right there."

Blackfox blinks at the two of them, still not quite certain what had just happened, "I...I..." Easily flustered and still uncertain of much of anything in her life right now, she finds Celeste looking at her as her train of thought scatters to the winds. "I do not even know where you live," she offers meekly.

"A chapel called Night's Edge," Celeste replies. "It is not far from Light's Reach. The Firelights live there as well, and Taran helped me to build it what it is today. Still standing after all the troubles we have endured."

Taran lipquirks, shaking his head slightly. "It is not far at all," he says to Blackfox. "If you go through the Aria. Someday she should talk to the carriage company about a stop at her gates, but until then it is not so great a trip from Light's Reach."

"I...I will think about it," Blackfox replies, still uncertain and undecided, or perhaps she was just keeping her decision to herself. Still, curiosity does get the better of her, "What dreams?"

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