#betweenrivers-betweenworlds

“Well, it seems we’ve mightily succeeded in spreading an appreciation for the arts,” Heliodoro commented with a big grin, hefting the sack a little in his large green palm.

“I’ll say,” their employer chuckled.  “And you’ve well earned your keep.  Why don’t you two go out and celebrate?  You can come back and stay here tonight, free of charge.”

Not ones to turn their noses up at such generosity, Mornath and Heliodoro quickly and eagerly changed out of their costumes and into casual attire suitable for a night of merriment (which, to be fair, wasn’t all that fancy - they were still homeless actors).  With a portion of their earnings in hand, they practically skipped out of the theatre, headed for the nearest tavern.

- - -

“It’s your turn to drink,” Heliodoro told Mornath, nodding towards the bar with a smirk.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.  It’s only fair.  You carried our performance tonight, after all.”  At this, Mornath’s eyes fixated on her lap and she smiled shyly, much as she always did when she received a compliment.  At least, Heliodoro noted, she had forgone the usual stream of denials and just taken it this time.  Progress.

“Alright, but don’t let me get totally sauced.”

“Of course,” Heliodoro assured his companion, raising a hand as if to take an oath.  He watched her scamper off towards the bar then, muttering something about fruity drinks under her breath as she went.  

He was very much in the mood for a good wine, but Mornath deserved to have some fun for herself once in a while and she didn’t feel safe drinking if he wasn’t there with her and 100% sober.  He didn’t know what had happened to make her so cautious, but as with many things about her past, he did not pry.  She would tell him in time if she wanted to.

Mornath soon returned from the bar with a mug of sweet cider for him and a small pewter cup of something that smelled strongly of berries for herself.  Heliodoro eyed her drink with a curious look.

“This is apparently a Gnomish mixed drink.  Barkeep said it was a good evening starter,” she explained, an uncommon adventurous glint in her grey eyes.  “Bottoms up, mate.”  

Upon taking a gulp of the burgundy liquid in her cup, Mornath’s eyes went wide and she coughed.

“Ach, gods, it’s like jam and shellack!” she sputtered and Heliodoro let out a deep chuckle, but feigned an innocent expression, partially hidden by his mug, when she glared.  She seemed to take this as a challenge, because she kicked back the rest of her drink before he could stop her, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time.  “I regret!” she choked out immediately thereafter, her face screwing up into a look of pain and disgust.

“Alright.  You’re not having anything else until we’re sure your not getting plastered by just one drink,” Heliodoro snickered, reaching over to snatch her coin purse out of her reach.  The fact that he managed to do so at all already condemned her, since a sober Mornath would have had it away from his grasping fingers before he could even blink.  She made a pout face, but seemed to concede his point and slumped back in her seat.

“Fine, fine, fine. ‘M already feelin’ pretty relaxed anyhow.”  Mornath’s brogue thickened as she spoke and Heliodoro marveled at how utterly terrible she was at holding her liquor.  “Shellack’s gone.  Just taste the jam now.  Tha’s nice.  Hey, did y’know there’s a kind o’ berry native t’ Icewind Dale tha’ can make ye see colours tha’ only certain animals can see normally?”

Goodness, how could he have forgotten how chatty alcohol made Mornath?  It was delightful.

“We have those in Many-Arrows too.  We call them kirshak-orze.  They’re used by the priesthood of Gruumsh for various rituals.”  At this, Mornath poked at the broad orcish tattoo designs on his arms and opened her mouth as if she had questions but seemed to be having trouble organizing them into words.

Before she could get there, however, she was distracted by the appearance of a new musical troupe on the stage in the corner of the room.  They struck up a very lively tune, inspiring many of the patrons milling about to dance.  Mornath’s face lit up like a winter festival and she sprung to her feet.

“Ye haven’t gotten t’have any fun yet, Helio.  Dance with me.”  She offered him her hand with a big grin and adjusted her spectacles.  In truth, Heliodoro had been perfectly content listening to her talk, but he knew that wouldn’t occur to her, regardless of how much she’d had to drink.  Besides, he hadn’t seen her this confident in a long time and he loved a good dance; he was not about to look this gift horse in the mouth.

“Certainly, Morning Glory,” he replied with a little extra dramatic flair as he took her hand and joined her amidst the fray of dancing patrons.

“Is it even necessary?”

“If I’m going to beseech an elven god for guidance whilst claiming to be his humble servant, it would be rather poor manners of me to walk into his temple bearing something so blatantly un-elven as facial hair.  I learned that lesson well in my training.”

Mornath gaped at him, hurt on his behalf that his faith would demand this of him, but she made no further attempt to stop him.  He knew far better than her what was necessary to show proper respect in Corellon’s house, so she sat in the corner of their rented room and watched him in silence.

Once the sideburns were gone, so too seemed to be the ease of his smiles.  There was a seriousness and focus in his demeanor as he draped himself in blue and silver that reminded her of those moments in stage rehearsal when he tried very hard to get a difficult line right.

“I’m ready,” he finally told her upon hooking the clasp of a billowing cloak bearing Corellon’s Star.

Their walk from the Stag at Bay tavern to the temple at Starmeadow was only a few minutes, but the silence between them made it feel like an eternity.  Mornath almost felt as if she were walking beside a stranger, but she knew she had brought that discomfort on herself twice over by always expecting Heliodoro to be everything he appeared to be and by forgetting that, while she knew Heliodoro, she had never met Zvezda Eliander, the man before the actor.

When they stopped at the doors of the temple, Mornath looked up at Heliodoro to see an unusual nervousness in his green features.

“What’s the matter?” she asked quietly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to a temple.  There are…certain things I know to expect that I don’t look forward to.”

“Do you…want me to go in with you, or…?”

“I’d be glad of your company.  As always.”  He seemed about to add “Morning Glory”, but decided against it, probably realizing that it might be unwelcome, given how strained things had become between them recently.  Mornath nodded in acceptance.  He sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, and pushed open the temple door.

They came into a large entry hall lit by floating orbs of blue light.  The walls and high ceiling were adorned with silver silk and murals depicting the story of the Seldarine, the elven gods.  The rows of stone pillars holding it all up were carved of white marble to look like the trunks of ancient trees, contrasting with the dark marble floors beneath them.  At the center of the enormous room was a small garden featuring a real white tree, fed by sunlight streaming down from an opening the ceiling.  It was beautiful and instilled an odd sense of peace in Mornath’s heart, which was far different from the intimidating feeling she had always gotten at the temple to the Seldarine she knew in Silverymoon.

Slowly, they approached the garden and the tree within.  The sudden change from hard marble to soft grass beneath their feet made Mornath miss the open road.  Upon closer inspection, she could see that there was scrolling in an ancient Elvish dialect written up the twisting grain of the tree.  Heliodoro idly traced his fingers along the words, muttering something to himself that she could not make out.

- - -

17 Eleint, 1484 DR (five years ago)

“Give it up, Zvezda.  You’ll never be good enough for Corellon and he’ll certainly never make you his Champion,” Zvezda heard someone sneer as he faced off against another boy with a wooden sword.  They’d made him fight with one hand tied behind his back to “make things more fair”, but it had yet to really hinder him in this sparring match.  He had bested three of the others so far and they were starting to push back with words.  He could play that game too.

“’Ambition has no place where it does not give unto others twice what it takes unto itself’,” he replied, reciting from the sacred texts of Corellon’s teachings.  His opponent, a young elf named Ivress, lunged at him and he did not move out of the way.  Instead, he dove forward and used his vastly superior strength and size to ram Ivress in the side with his shoulder and knock the elf to the ground.

“Corellon hates orcs, you daft bastard!” another boy, Gilgalaen, spat.  Zvezda knew they were trying to provoke him into doing something violent beyond the bounds of the sparring match, but he would not let them.  He couldn’t.  Not if he was going to prove them all wrong about what he was.  Besides, he had been here for a while now and this was not the worst abuse they’d thrown at him.

“‘Hate not what you do not understand, for you will close yourself off from hidden truths and beauties yet to be discovered.’“  Zvezda offered his hand to the prone Ivress as he said this, hoping the elf would take the truce.

“There’s nothing hidden or beautiful about tusks!” an onlooker interjected.

“You are not my brother.  You are not one of The People.  Go back to the mountains where you belong, elf-eater,” Ivress responded after getting up on his own and pointing an emphatic finger at Zvezda, who was cut more deeply by those words than he would ever admit.

“Ivress!  You shame this house!” came the familiar voice of their trainer, Akhebrath, who was now striding into the courtyard with a deep scowl on his sharp features.  “Such foul words are not welcome here.  Consider scrubbing the entire barracks floor your penance.”

Several of the other trainees laughed at this and Ivress’ cheeks grew beet red in embarrassment and anger.  Akhebrath ignored the boy’s complaints and looked to Zvezda, hand beckoning.  Tossing aside his wooden sword and untying his hand, the half-orc silently followed.

“Are you alright?” Akhebrath asked as they left the courtyard.

“I’m fine.  They’re just sore losers.”

“I think it takes more than being a little sore to inspire the words I just heard out of Ivress’ mouth, like the bloody war going on in the north between our peoples.  How you remain so totally unaffected by such jibes truly eludes me.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m totally unaffected, sir,” Zvezda replied with a sad smile, brushing a loose strand of long black hair from his face.

“I’d be worried if you claimed to be perfect,” Akhebrath chuckled.  “Although I’ve noticed young Ahnvaera seems to think you are.”  At this, Zvezda’s face journeyed from surprise to discomfort and he looked away.  Ahnvaera was one of the few here who had been a friend to him, but…

“I…hadn’t realized.”

“I noticed that too.  You have a greater focus than your peers and it is thankfully centered on more important things, which is actually what I wanted to talk to you about.  Here.”

They stopped in the middle of the corridor they had been strolling down and sat on the long bench there.  Zvezda waited patiently while the old elven paladin got settled and spoke again.

“You have surpassed all expectations laid before you.  Not only are you a better fighter than your peers, but you also know scripture and legend better, your artistry is far more original, and above all, you endure like no other.  I have never seen a young man so intent in his purpose that even the distrust of his brethren could not sway him.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet.  I haven’t gotten to me point, which is that after some deliberation, the order has decided that you’re ready to move on with your training.  You will now be receiving personal instruction from senior ordained knights, including our commander.  They will be much harsher than I ever was and I cannot promise they will all treat you with the same respect, but I think you have what you need to impress them.”

A broad, tusky grin spread across Zvezda’s face at this news.  His hard work was finally paying off.

“Happy Birthday, dear boy,“ Akhebrath added, smiling back and clapping his student on the shoulder.

- - -

Mornath looked more closely at the word Heliodoro had just traced over on the tree.  “Endure” it said, in a form almost too old for her to recognize.

“What is it?” she asked, frowning at Heliodoro’s pensive expression.

“Nothing.  Just remembering something an old knight once told me.”

He stepped back from the tree and Mornath opened her mouth to ask more questions, but she was interrupted by the appearance of another woman, marked as a priestess by her silver circlet and blue robes.

“Welcome, brother,” the woman greeted with a soft smile, shocking them with her calm reaction to Heliodoro.  “I am High Priestess Cormyth.  What can I do for you?”  They could see, now that she had stepped into the sunlight, that she was a half-elf, which shocked them again.  None but full-blooded elves ever achieved significant rank in the elven clergy.  Perhaps this explained her instant acceptance of a half-orc.

“I come to pray for guidance from Corellon.  If you could show me to the shrine here, I would be most grateful,” Heliodoro replied pleasantly.

“And you, my dear?”  The priestess looked to Mornath.  And so did Heliodoro, who seemed anxious to hear her answer.

“I’m, er, I’m with him.  For moral support,” she responded awkwardly and her friend relaxed a little.  Cormyth just gave a nod and gestured for them to follow her.

She guided them gracefully into a smaller chamber, at the back of which stood a marble statue of Corellon, his arms held out wide in welcome.  The priestess left them alone there and they slowly approached the alter, which bore a few lit candles and other offerings.  Mornath took one of the unlit ones from a nearby table and brought it to life with a wave of her hand, placing it on the alter as Heliodoro knelt before his god.  He did not immediately go into prayer.  Instead, he looked up at Corellon with an expression she could not place.  Was it doubt?

“When was the last time you went to a temple like this?” she asked.

“The day I found out that I’m cursed.”

“And Corellon gave you no answers then?  Why didn’t you tell me?”  The last question brought a look of pain to Heliodoro’s features.  It was another thing for him to feel guilty about hiding from her.

“I thought it might be different with you here.”

“Why would I matter?  You can’t love me, remember?“  She could tell those words stung even more than the last and she immediately regretted them.

“Just because I can’t love doesn’t mean you can’t matter to me.  Before I met you, the world felt faded, drab, and it was getting hard to find meaning in my work.  You brought color back into my life.” 

“I don’t understand.  How can…?” He was looking at her now, meeting her gaze with an intensity she could hardly bear. 

“You make me feel alive, Mornath. I may not be able to feel so strongly about you that my world is violently colorful when I look at you, but you make me feel something; I see hues, and that’s more than anyone has been able to do since I was cursed.” 

Mornath’s chin wobbled with the effort of staying composed, but it was fruitless.  She knelt down beside him and took off her glasses before pulling him into the tightest hug she could, burying her face in the side his neck. 

“I’m so sorry for everything I said to you when you told me about the curse.  I was so unfair.”  Her voice wavered despite her efforts and at the last word, it finally cracked.  After a beat of nervous hesitation, Heliodoro wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

“No.  No, everything you said was right.  You deserve to be loved and I gave you a lie, because I thought it would be enough, and it could never be enough and I’m sorry.  I wish…I wish…” he trailed off, his own voice beginning to waver.

“We’ll figure it out.  We’ll fix this.  I promise.”

- - -

Mornath came to in a hospital bed, a heart monitor beeping away beside her.  The only other sound that wasn’t distant and muddled was two voices talking quietly in the corner.  They seemed to be discussing the payment of her costs. She looked over to see a very tall man and a squat nurse, who were rather fuzzy to her without her glasses.  They must have noticed her movement, because they both immediately turned to her.

“She’s awake,” the man commented, a big grin spreading across his face.  Both he and the nurse quickly strode over to her and he handed her something off the end table of the bed.  Her glasses.  “They’re cracked, but I imagine it’s better than nothing.”

Mornath hastily put them on, though her joints were stiff and protested loudly.  Everything came into focus.  She could see now that the man was young, probably not much older than herself, and the nurse was middle-aged and a bit severe-looking.

“You’re very lucky, young lady.  You came in with hypothermia, severe malnourishment, a broken wrist, and a badly sprained ankle,” the nurse told her.  “But you’re going to be fine.”

“How…how long have I been out?” Mornath asked, her voice a quiet rasp from disuse.

“Three days.”  Good lord.  The young woman pursed her lips and glanced down at her arm, which was in a blue cast, resting heavily across her abdomen.  Great.  Something else on top of the pile of things she couldn’t pay for.  

She caught the gaze of the strange man as she looked about the room and something seemed immediately familiar about his dark eyes.  When she noticed the loosened purple tie around his neck, it clicked.

“It was you.  You pulled me out of the ditch,” she observed and his smile seemed to grow even brighter.

“You remember,” he said, sounding pleasantly surprised.  Mornath frowned at him.

“Why are you still here?”  The question visibly shocked him, as if he could not conceive of any other choice, and that only confused her further.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Most people would drop me off and be on their merry way, not stick around for three days without a change of clothes on behalf of a total stranger.”  At this, the young man glanced down at his attire as if he hadn’t even realized he was still wearing the same clothes.

“I wouldn’t grill the poor man, if I were you, Ms. Sparrowswood.  He’s the reason you’re alive and he refused to leave until you woke up,” the nurse put in, quirking an eyebrow at Mornath.  How did she know her name?  Ah, they must have found her driver’s license in her wallet.

“So I’m awake now.  Why are you still here?”

“Has no one ever cared about you before or something?” the nurse interjected again with a critical scowl as the man opened his mouth to reply.

“No,” Mornath deadpanned and the other two stared with a mixture of horror and disbelief.

“Well, I guess that explains why no one came when the hospital contacted your parents.”  The look the nurse gave Mornath as she said this left the distinct impression that she blamed the young woman’s demeanor.

“May I talk to her alone, please?” the man asked the nurse politely, though there was a hard glint in his eyes, as if he took personal offense at what she had said to Mornath.  The nurse gave a curt nod and let them know she would be just outside if she was needed before walking briskly from the room.  “Rude,” the man muttered upon the door’s closing.

“Who are you?” Mornath asked immediately when he turned back to her.

“My name’s Zvezda Eliander, although most people call me Heliodoro.  I’m sorry if it’s creepy for me to be here, but I promise I really do just want to be sure you’re alright.  I’m smart enough to realize that girls don’t end up in your situation unless someone hurt them.  It…seemed wrong to leave you on your own.  I was going to stay just until your family came, but now that I know they aren’t coming, I’m staying until you tell me to go,” he explained.

Mornath watched him carefully as he spoke, looking for any signs of insincerity in his expression or mannerisms, but she was shocked to find nothing.  He…he really meant what he was saying.  What kind of bizarro world had she woken up in?

“But…why do you care?  I’m nothing, nobody,” she replied quietly.  This question brought a sudden and entirely unexpected look of heartbreak to Heliodoro’s features.

“Everyone is somebody.  Everyone has worth.  Whoever told you otherwise can shove it,” he told her fervently and an inappropriate laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop herself.

“Oh my god, you’re a real bleeding heart.  The genuine article.”  What a weird fucking dream.  Or maybe she had just gone crazy.

“That’s what my mother always said.”  Heliodoro cracked a new smile that quickly fell again once he realized why her manner had suddenly changed.  “You don’t think any of this is real, do you?”  She shook her head, giggling some more.

“Why would it be?”  The look of horror on Heliodoro’s face made Mornath’s laughs fade out and brought about an awkward silence that was only broken when he sat on the end of her bed and spoke again, his tone deeply serious.

“I don’t know what happened to you or who hurt you and I’m not going to ask, but I promise you that this is real and that I will do everything I can to help you.”

If this was real…it was too much for Mornath to process.  Her mind raced with every hope and fear she’d pushed aside to deal with it all.  They overflowed down her cheeks and blurred her vision.  She put he left hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs that wracked her aching body.

“Oh god…” she choked out, muffled behind her palm.  

Heliodoro didn’t say anything and simply held out his hand, offering it to her.  It only made her cry harder, but he did not withdraw.  He waited patiently for her to calm down a little and wipe her eyes, after which point she placed her hand in his and let his large fingers envelope hers with a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you for caring,” she finally managed, her voice wobbling terribly.

“You don’t have to be on your own anymore,” he replied gently.  “I’ve already paid your medical expenses, but I can also get you out of here, get you a job, a place to stay, have you ready to hit the ground running when you’re fully recovered.  If you want any of that, of course.  I don’t really know your whole situation.”

“How can you manage all that?”  The question cam out more steady than Mornath had expected, which helped her calm down further.

“I’m an actor signed on with a major studio; I know people.”  Heliodoro smirked as he said this and she couldn’t help but smile a little in return.

“They still won’t discharge me into your care.  You’re not my next of kin.”

“I…may have told them I’m your fraternal twin brother.”

“And they believed you!?”

“I made my argument about our eyebrows both being strong enough to lift buses very convincing.  It was a dramatic scene.”  At this, a light, genuine laugh burst from Mornath and Heliodoro’s smirk became a huge, boyish grin.

He looked for the wagon he and Mornath had been riding in.  Maybe she had already gone back there.  His heart dropped into his stomach when he found splinters of wood and huge scrape marks where the wagon should have been.  It must have been one of the ones tossed over the edge of the road by the giant’s thrown boulders.

Feeling increasingly sick to his stomach with each step, Heliodoro approached the edge of the road and looked down the cliffside.  On a ledge roughly twenty feet below, he saw what appeared to be the shattered remains of half a wagon, the other half presumably having fallen the rest of the way down the mountainside.  His heart skipped a beat when he spotted a familiar forearm poking out from beneath the wreckage and one of its pale fingers twitched.

“Rope!  I need a rope!” he called out to the other survivors, who seemed to quickly realize that he must have seen someone who could be rescued.  A young blacksmith’s apprentice eagerly brought Heliodoro a rope and a few other people came to watch as the paladin hastily lowered himself onto the ledge below and demonstrated his half-orcish strength on the remains of the wagon.

Pushing splintered wood and bent metal aside, Heliodoro uncovered Mornath, who was barely conscious and bleeding out from a rather large splinter in her side.  Her spectacles were askew and while one lens was horribly cracked, the other was missing altogether.

“Helio?  I’m…sorry…I…I…” she struggled to say before making an awful wet coughing sound.  He could see blood beginning to leak from the corners of her lips.

“Stay with me, Morning Glory.  This isn’t your curtain call,” he assured her in that soft voice he always used when she was fretting over something.  “This is going to hurt.  I’m sorry.”  Bracing one hand against her side, he yanked out the piece of wood embedded there and she let out the most horrible whimper that became another wet cough.  He threw the splinter over the cliff and placed his hand over the wound.  

Closing his eyes, he whispered a prayer to Corellon and a warmth quite different from that of Mornath’s blood spread over his fingers.  He felt the bleeding stop and her flesh knit itself back together beneath his touch, but when he opened his eyes, Mornath seemed little better off.  Crimson continued to spill from the corners of her mouth and her breathing remained staggered and shallow.

“Seems…I’m dying…a lil’ bit,” she coughed, smiling weakly.  Heliodoro didn’t smile back.  For once in his life, he couldn’t find the humor in the situation, especially not when she added, “Thanks…for everything…”

“This isn’t goodbye,” he told her emphatically, holding her face in his hands.  “I refuse to let it be.”

Heliodoro looked up over his shoulder at the road above, where a crowd had gathered, watching all of this transpire.  A sudden anger boiled up inside him at this.  It was generally his policy to keep a tight lid on such rage - he didn’t want to play into people’s expectations of an orc-blooded man - but he couldn’t, not this time, not with Mornath’s life at stake.

“My friend is dying!  Are you all going to stand there gawking or are you going to help me save her!?” he growled and many onlookers gave a startled jump.

“There’s nothing to be done, boy,” a mercenary replied and he was quickly shoved to the side by a middle-aged human woman in black, silver trimmed robes, who Heliodoro recognized as the priestess of Kelemvor who had been keeping to herself for most of the trip but for the night she gave Mornath an elixir to help with an anxiety attack.

“Our Lord Kelemvor will be the judge of that,” she hissed.  “Out of my way.”  With this, she took hold of the rope still hanging over the edge and climbed down to the ledge.  Coming to kneel beside Heliodoro with an elegant swiftness, she examined Mornath, who had finally fallen completely unconscious.  “She seems to have sustained heavy internal injury.  I must pray for guidance.”

“And if your god of death decides against her?” Heliodoro inquired, an angry edge still in his tone.

“Then I am duty bound to let fate take its course.”

“I won’t accept that.”

“Each moment you argue, your friend grows closer to being beyond my aid.”  At this, Heliodoro held his tongue, but continued to scowl.  The priestess closed her eyes for a moment that seemed an eternity to him, but when she opened them again, she gave him a small smile.  “Mornath is fortunate.  It seems her time has not yet come.”

As Heliodoro breathed a sigh of relief, the priestess reached out and placed a boney hand on Mornath’s forehead.  With a sharp gasp, Mornath’s eyes opened wide and she sat bolt upright.

“WhathappenedwhereamI?!” she blurted out.

“Are you in any pain?” Heliodoro asked.