A strange infestation of jub-jub birds delays Alkara’s next meeting with Tharan. Two weeks of tracking and hunting, then exterminating them in the burrows that were somehow on the good side of the Grecian River. And unlike others, they didn’t connect their tunnels. But if the Waste Walkers hadn’t taken care of them, the pests would have multiplied. The farmers wouldn’t have been able to get anything done. And then they’d have infiltrated Three Rivers.
Alkara wouldn’t have seen Tharan for months.
And she craves that next tryst. Tharan had committed to a special surprise as part of his apology for the interaction with the Councilor. And in spite of her prodding he wouldn’t even give her a hint!
So Alkara hikes toward Afanen’s gates with an uncontainable smile, Guen in tow. Tharan, holding a large basket, stands outside the gates with a small complement of his paladins. Alkara’s lifebeat quickens. She hustles the last paces to the group and nearly throws herself into his embrace. But the presence of the paladins keeps her from acting on the impulse. Tharan’s reputation deserves upholding until he decides otherwise. He’d know when the time was right.
They journey to Cyparis Glade together, paladins and all. The retinue allow the couple privacy by keeping watch from within the tree-line.
Tharan sets out their spread on a blanket. However they managed to include everything remains a mystery. He places cushions for seating. Meats, cheeses, nuts, and fruits follow. Even a teapot!
Steam billows from the beverage as Tharan first pours a cup for her, and then she for him. Who knows how it was kept hot for so long.
Poor Leä.
Alkara sips at the tea and shudders. A sour, sweet fruitiness slushes around her mouth. She grimaces and swallows, a thin smile trails the expression.
“This tea is not to your liking?” Tharan muses with a grin. One eyebrow raises up for a moment.
Alkara snorts, “It’s… um…” She searches for some polite way to say it but surrenders to the inevitable. “Uh. No.”
Tharan nods, “Perhaps a mild brew like the Green Taproot.” He holds his cup in both hands and drinks. With eyes closed, a warm smile spreads across his face. He sighs and opens his eyes, “Which is your favorite?”
The corner of Alkara’s lip curls upward. She squirms. “Um, none really.” She takes a breath and gives Tharan an apologetic smile, “I don’t like tea. I uh… kinda hate it.” The weight of her confession thumps into her chest. She turns away and looks down at the embroidery on the blanket. “I know it’s a big deal in Doësín tradition. Especially for… courting, but–“
“None?” His mouth slackens and his eyes widen. He takes a moment to recover before saying, “You have yet to find any palatable?”
Alkara’s shoulders shrink inward. She musters a weak smile, “Sorry.”
Tharan purses his lips with a ‘hmm.’ He strokes his chin. “Which have you tried? We may start there.”
Alkara shrugs, “Um… I don’t know I’ve tried a few that were like…” She struggles to name any and shakes her head. “Look I don’t know. Tea is tea!”
Tharan chuckles. “Hardly.” He gestures with an open hand to the teapot, “There are taproot teas like this one infused with apricot. The alternative is a fibrous tea. After harvest they can be steamed, fried, wilted. There is no exhausting the variety.”
Alkara tilts her head down with a wry grin, “And yet…”
Tharan squeezes his brow together. “You have experienced a few teas. But aside from Leä’s brewing, the preparation could be lacking.”
“The only tea I’ve ever had was made by Leä.” Alkara mutters.
“And when you awaited the arrows that first time?” Tharan raises his eyebrows with the question. “You had no tea then?”
Alkara sucks in a breath with a shake of her head. “I didn’t stick around. I needed more than just arrows to take down the Brain Thief. So I went to Caerswä.”
Tharan chuckles, “Indeed.” A mischievous twinkle fills his eyes. “I vow, here and now, to find a tea that you enjoy. I will not stop until I find it.”
Alkara flinches. “Please don’t do that. You have so many more important things to be doing.”
Tharan laughs, “It is too late! The vow is made.”
“Tharan!”
Tharan’s grin fades into a mild smile. He takes Alkara’s hand and strokes it with his thumb. “Please understand. Tea represents more than an offering.” With a pensive look Tharan squeezes her hand, “The Tavarda ö Ta is more than an expected gift but a testament of my dedication.” He searches Alkara’s face. “It is therefore an honor to search for this tea. Not only for you but also that we may enjoy together.”
Alkara sighs. The longer she maintains eye contact the harder it becomes to suppress a smile. She presses her lips together until they buckle into a begrudging smile. “Okay fine.” She shakes her head at him, “No guarantees we’ll find one. But… I’ll try.”
Tharan lets out his held breath. “I will inquire with Leä. We ought not duplicate what she has already provided.
Alkara laughs, “Definitely not.” She sets her cup down. “Whenever you need more I’ll be happy to pour. Let’s not let it go to waste.”
Tharan hums, “How generous.”
Alkara soaks in the moments as they dig into the other refreshments. She savors the smoked beef in particular. Tharan begins listing teas and how different preparations would affect the flavor. She lays back, gaze drifting across the trees surrounding the glade. The gleam of armor betrays the otherwise beautiful scene.
A rabbit snuffles at some grasses. Butterflies float among the purple flowers lining the glade. Even the clouds have cooperated to provide intermittent but not overbearing shade. Alkara turns to choose another item from the spread but a flash of white captures her attention.
She furrows her brow, narrowing her eyes. A deer saunters between the trees. Its rack of antlers leads the way. Big. Alkara tilts her head to the side as she chews.
Something about that deer is–
“Oh my,” Tharan’s soft voice breaks into Alkara’s thoughts. “Fortunate for him we are not hunters. That is an incredible set of antlers.”
Alkara starts at his voice and turns to him.
He meets her gaze, “Is everything alright?”
Alkara searches the trees for the stag, but it must have fled at the sound of Tharan’s voice. She tightens her brow. “It’s just… I dunno, looked familiar for some reason. Maybe the antlers…” Alkara trails off into a silent introspection. She shakes her head, “I’m sorry, that sounds crazy. What were we talking about?”
“I was musing over the different methods of tea preparation.” Tharan offers a water cracker to Alkara. “And which might be best for your appreciation.” He smiles.
“Oh,” Alkara nods along, struggling to reign her attention in. “Right.” She takes the cracker and nibbles the edge. The phantom of the stag draws her focus.
So distracting, where have I seen it before?
Concern seeps into Tharan’s voice, “Alkara, are you certain that you are well?” He sits up and peers down at her.
Alkara nods with an unsteady gaze on the trees. “I’m fine. I–” Tharan’s hand presses against her forehead, snapping her back to the present. She snorts “Really?!” She laughs. “I’m fine, Tharan. Stop it.” Alkara pops the remainder of the cracker into her mouth. “I just… I know I’ve seen them before. The antlers.” She looks back to the trees. “But I don’t exactly make a habit of stag-watching.”
“Nevertheless. You travel through Glöhakjan and doubtless see stags.” Tharan shrugs. “You may have seen this stag before. The Miësín would not have hunted it, and we look to conserve where we can.”
Alkara frowns, drawing her eyebrows together. “I guess.” The conclusion sits uncomfortably in her mind. Remembering one particular animal from the hundreds she must have seen proves frustrating. Instead the memory of her forest hangover springs to mind.
She snorts and pokes Tharan’s arm. “So what was that thing you were sad about? You did something but didn’t know if it worked. What was that about?”
The purple blush that’s been hiding in Tharan’s cheeks blossoms into a deep royal hue. “Ah. Well… you see…”
That flourish pairs with the loss of words in a way that pulls at Alkara’s heartstrings. She loves it more and more each time. “Spit it out!” Alkara laughs.
Tharan huffs but treats her to a smile. “So impatient.” His expression dwindles into a calm demeanor. “Is it not evident?”
Alkara shakes her head, “No guessing games, just tell me.”
Tharan purses his lips and narrows his eyes in a playful, coy manner. “When I presented your bow I intended to invite you to dine with me when my schedule was clear.” He sighs, drawing his eyebrows in. “You were suddenly there and I was… convinced I would never see you again.” Tharan takes hold of Alkara’s hands with both of his. “I realized I desired you in my life. More than that. I was equally certain you had no interest in me. Our brief relationship was at its close. Its brevity did not diminish its brightness. Nor my sorrow.”
Alkara listens wide-eyed, her mouth slightly open. “So… when you said you did something about it…”
Tharan’s shallow smile doesn’t extend to his eyes, “My attempt to aid you and your kin in The Depths.”
“Urdima’s Grace…” Alkara breathes out, stricken. “I am… so stupid.” She huffs while shaking her head. “Dre and Uncle Iro tried to tell me but I thought they were crazy.”
Tharan chuckles, “Of course.” He squeezes her hand. “Iroshi saw through my poorly veiled interest. Likely from the beginning.” Tharan huffs and stares into the forest, a faraway look on his face. “Then you almost died right next to me. I promised to tell you when we reached the surface.” He swallows, shoulders drooping. “My courage failed me. I would abide by the ultimatum Dreonna had given me. To leave you be.”
They sit in quiet reverie. The memories of those events steal through them. Alkara shifts, unsure if Tharan will continue.
He watches her with a tepid smile. “And then you offered to help. I thought perhaps that if I had confessed at that time you would have only entertained a courtship due to some sense of repayment. That was… unacceptable.”
Alkara lets the words wash over her. She squeezes his hand in kind. “But… that was still months after. Why wait if you knew so early?”
Tharan considers, drawing his eyebrows in. “We had– have divergent interests. Your work. Mine.” He sighs, “I have heard, read, and imagined stories of love for centuries. The temptation to call this love from the beginning was great. I wanted to… “He shakes his head and chuckles. “I nearly did not make it through the night I gave you your bow. When you left, inebriated as you were–“
“Oh, come on! It wasn’t that bad!” Alkara raps his arm but with a smile.
“I worried relentlessly that night.” Tharan rubs the spot she tapped in mock hurt, shaking his head with minor movements and pursed lips. “I waited because… I had to be sure. The arrangement will be difficult for both of us. Yet after waiting for so long for love, I knew I would do anything for it…” He smiles sheepishly. “My delay was in part due to fear. You would not, could not, consider such an arrangement. That is what the niggling voice in my…” He trails off, smile gone.
Alkara laughes, shaking her head. “Master Wisdom only seeing the downsides? That’s a surprise.” She quirks her mouth and pushes Tharan’s shoulder in a playful shove.
Tharan tilts his head down, smiling while that purple hue returns to his cheeks.
Alkara’s brow softens. She sighs with a shallow smile. “I was sad, too, that night.”
Tharan’s mouth parts. His face blanks as he searches her face.
Alkara nods. “I told myself I couldn’t afford the time or resources to keep going to Afanen.” She shifts, closing the gap between them and bringing her shoulder against his. “I thought I’d need to figure out how to become less dependent because… it just wasn’t practical.” She chuckles and pauses to take in the glade. “I loved visiting. The trip became enjoyable and I’d stop here in the glade coming and going. There are these tiny, adorable roses that I don’t see anywhere else–“
Tharan blinks at her in surprise, “The primroses?”
“Yes! Most of them are blue and purple, yeah?” Alkara fidgets with her hands and frowns. “In Three Rivers you can’t talk about primroses without people assuming you mean the brothel. But out here…” She exhales, leaning back against the blankets. “Out here they’re just flowers. No one makes them out to mean anything. Instead they just get to be themselves.”
Tharan stares at her a moment before shaking his head with a chuckle. “Thank you.”
Alkara narrows her eyes. “For what?”
Tharan nods and smiles. He draws his eyebrows in, observing the primroses. “Of all the flowers to delight in, you pick the simple primrose. Doësin artists and poets hardly take note of it.” He pulls his hand away, looking first at the back and turning it to look at his palm. “We live lives such that the primrose’s flashes past. The colors blend into the forest. A part of it. We elves might learn to appreciate these joys.” He attention returns to Alkara. “The reminder, important as it is, comes infrequently. Therefore I am grateful.”
Alkara’s lips twist. “Simple joys.” The sentence spills out as a near question. “Does that mean I shouldn’t tell anyone that they’re my favorite? Sounds like something to turn into an insult.”
Tharan’s smile dies on his lips. His eyes soften. “It is possible. Probable.” He looks to the tree line and one of his paladins. “Do not hide yourself from my people, albeit the insults may flow. You will be a lightning bolt in our society.” Tharan chuckles, “I worry more for those struck.” He shakes his hand and leans his head against hers. “I will mediate and protect you, but you will still be a target.” Tharan sighs and grips the Bell hanging under his tunic. “My people will become better. That journey includes your presence.”
Alkara listens with sobering expression. She shifts, pulling away first and then snuggling into the crook of his arm. Initially Tharan stiffens, but puts an arm around her.
She listens to his lifebeat thumping in his chest. Maybe a little faster than in the beginning. Alkara draws a circular pattern with one finger across his chest. “I wish there were more leaders like you. Your people are lucky.” After a few more circles she digs in with her fingers and tickles him. It only last a moment as Tharan squirms and Alkara relinquishes. “Hey, whaddaya know?” She grins up at him. “I found something your people and I can agree on. We’ll just talk about you all the time.”
Tharan presses his lips together with a smile, shaking his head. “So…” Tharan begins with an immediate pause. “Just the roses and this glade?”
Alkara sideeyes him. “And the trip.”
Tharan nods, “Mm.”
“And Leä. Leä is delightful.” Alkara’s smile settles into an impish grin. “I’d even miss Dorië’s efforts to not scowl at me! Not to mention your parlor and those books.”
Tharan chuckles. “I am glad you find the various aspects of my home and household so dear.”
Alkara rubs her chin in mock thoughtfulness, “Mm. Ah!” She holds up a finger. “But they all have something in common that may be even dearer still.”
Tharan smiles but still grabs Alkara’s hand and pulls it down. “May?!” His tone suggests anything but seriousness.
Alkara giggles. “Well, I mean.” She narrows her eyes and teases, “I haven’t said yes yet.”
Tharan sighs, making a show of it. “An unnecessary reminder.” He pulls her hand to his chest. “You shall have whatever time you need for consideration.” He brightens. “That consideration fills me with joy.”
A breeze dances through the glade, pulling at grasses and flowers. Alkara’s face tightens as a question pops into her head. She grows still with the idea.
Tharan, ever watchful, considers her a moment. “What is the matter?”
Alkara shakes her head.
“Please?”
“No,” Alkara nearly whines. “This is such a nice moment.” The corner of her mouth tightens. “I don’t want to ruin it with a dumb question.”
Tharan’s face shines with anticipation. He smiles, “A rare occasion to find a truly unintelligent question.” He raises an eyebrow. “I venture this will not qualify.”
Alkara rumbles with a low, almost inhuman growl. “That’s not what I meant.” The question tightens in her chest, poised for release. “But fine. What will you do if I say ‘no’?”
She winces, both at the thought but also at Tharan’s slight change of expression. Imagining saying no leaves a sour taste in her mouth. Yet she can’t say yes. Not yet.
Tharan takes a deep breath. The tenseness which gripped his shoulders eases. The mask begins its familiar settling before Tharan swipes a hand across his face. “I will take the lessons of this experience and move forward.” He falls silent, letting the words fill the figurative gap between them.
“Another potential partner will reveal herself. I live to serve Doë and it is in their ineffable wisdom to guide my actions.” Tharan sets his jaw. “My love for you will persist, and evolve into a strong friendship if you are amenable to the idea.”
He glances at Alkara, his voice quiet. “What will you do?”
Just friends? Good friends. Yeah, I can do that even if this isn’t right for me in the end. What even is this? Should it be obvious? Does asking mean I don’t actually want more? How do normal people fall in love? Is it always this complicated?
Oh, he asked a question.
“Um…” Alkara pulls the question back through her musings. “Probably just keep killing aberrants out of Three Rivers. Maybe be the next Retrievers’ Rook.” Alkara shudders. “Just saying it sound awful.” Alkara spits out a bitter chuckle. “I just can’t imagine staying where I am now my whole life. I wanna go somewhere. Try new things. Challenge myself. I–” she stops for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s reckless. Irresponsible. If I just played it safe then…”
“Then Three Rivers would be a lot worse off.” Tharan searches her face.
“But Sengmar would be alive.” Alkara bites out.
“Your need for mythril would not have brought us together until some other time. If at all.”
Alkara pauses for a few moments, then turns into him a little. “I can’t be happy or grateful that I got Sengmar killed Tharan. Even if it lead me to you.”
Tharan’s expression softens. “I would suggest no such thing. Instead it is the dissonant and painful experiences which can lead us to satisfying resolutions. We do not seek these out but it may be the way our part plays in the larger piece.”
He places his hand on her shoulder with a gentle touch. “You are the only person holding Sengmar’s death against you. It causes you pain but I would argue that you are not responsible.”
Alkara stares wide-eyed at Tharan, “How could I not be responsible?” She shakes her head with a shrug. “He died while I was leading the team.”
“Sengmar was aware of the danger.” Tharan lowers his gaze. “They all are. It is their choice to face that danger. We cannot shoulder the burden of an unfortunate sequence of events.”
Alkara shakes her head, “I led them. I have to take responsibility.”
“The difference lay–”
“And if I’m in pain,” Alkara’s breath hitches, cutting him off, “There’s a reason, right?” Her eyes glisten with gathering tears that she refuses to let fall. “It’s like a cut. It hurts. Then I can learn from it. So if it’s some grand lesson I’m supposed to learn from, it’s supposed to hurt.”
Tharan stiffens. “Lessons do not require–”
“It’s my fault–”
“The fault–”
“The more it hurts the better I protect Dre and–”
“STOP!”
His voice booms through the glade. Birds end their chirping. Flowers bend away, as though bowing, and Alkara’s pretty sure it’s not from the breeze. She clamps her mouth shut. Even the teapot seems to stop steaming.
A stilling calm overtakes the glade. The flapping of wings falls away. The buzzing of insects quiets.
Tharan lets out a slow breath with his eyes closed. He looks to the tree line and waves the Paladins off. “Forgive me.” Tharan shifts to face Alkara. “May I?”
Alkara nods, brow furrowed. She tilts her head with narrowed eyes.
Tharan pulls her into a strong, but gentle, embrace. “I am willing to listen to anything and everything you have to say. From trivial gossip to frustrations, your darkest fears or hopes, everything. But…” He pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on hers. “I cannot listen to you justify your suffering.” They hold together a moment, Tharan keeps his eyes closed. “I will not accept that, and neither should you. This is not negotiable for me.”
Tharan opens his eyes. His lower lip trembles as his glistening eyes beg for her agreement. With downcast expression he looks from one eye to the other. “Will you allow me to hold us to this? Please?”
Alkara lets out her breath in a rush, acutely aware of the proximity. “You realize how… ridiculous it would be for me to say no, right?” She sniffs, shaking her head. “I have a feeling I won’t be winning any of our arguments.”
Tharan sags into the embrace, but still keeping their foreheads touching. Probably to keep from any impropriety. “I suspect you will earn a place among the famous debaters. Women often find new ways to approach squabbles between partners.”
“Well, none of those women are partnered with you.”
That adorable purple blush spreads across Tharan’s cheeks. They settle back side-by-side. Tharan wraps his arm around Alkara’s shoulder.