#elihu

Most of the rooms held only moldering beds or dry-rotted desks and shelves, but every once in a while they would find something interesting. A wizard’s grimoire, the pages brittle and only half-full. A silver bracelet, tarnished deep grey and etched with heraldry nether recognized. The barracks and armory were the most barren yet; picked clean by looters and bandits centuries ago, soon as the place stood empty.

“Wow, there really is nothing here,” Saoirse muttered, surveying the empty armory. “I kind of thought Steward mighta been speaking figuratively, y’know? Only fancy or valuable stuff taken, but nope, this really is picked clean.”

“That’s what happens to abandoned castles, Saoirse ,” Elihu said with a chuckle. “Gods, with how long our people have spent shooing estramowrn away away from our ruins, I wouldn’t think that would surprise you.”

“I’m not really surprised,” she said defensively, raking hair out of her eyes.  “Just... maybe had been hoping to find... I dunno, something.”

He cocked his head, mossy brows arching. “You really care about this past life of yours.”

“Well, yeah, she’s me, El. And the way Steward talked about her, she sounds like she was a pretty great person. I just think having.... something of hers would be neat.” Saoirse sighed. “Clearly no luck on that front here. C’mon, let’s go look at that cottage--Brighthollow, I think Steward called it?--and see what we can find there.”

“Sounds good.” Elihu reached up to wipe off the cobwebs tangled around one of his horns as he followed her toward the door. His attention divided, he tripped over a beam and dislodged something from underneath it with a ting.

Saoirse paused in the hall. “You alright?”

“Yes.” Elihu bent to retrieve the object he’d kicked loose, which proved to be a dagger. “Guess they didn’t get everything...” he mused as he half-unsheathed the blade. He made a face. “Though I can see why this got left behind.”

She craned her neck for a better look and had to agree with him. The leather wrapped around the hilt was cracked and frayed, the blade tarnished and dull. It looked utterly worthless. “Odd she kept it to begin with if it was in such bad shape...”

“At least this can be your something,” Elihu pointed out, sliding the dagger back into its sheath. He carefully picked his was around the beam to join her in the hallway.

Saoirse gave a soft laugh as she nodded, but something deep in her chest twisted as he leaned close to kiss her on the cheek and tuck the dagger in her belt. She’d been about to point out ‘If this dagger was even hers,’ but that twist had been eerily similar to the ones she’d felt on her first visit. It had probably been hers.

“Maybe you’re right,” the young dwarven woman sighed, wiping sweat off her brow with the back of one hand. “Even if Master Engrim didn’t catch on, I would know.” She gave an almost longing look at a beautifully crafted forge hammer that sat nearby. “Here, take this as thanks or payment or whatever.” She held out a well-crafted, if very simple, dagger. “For keeping me from a mistake.” Once the dagger was taken, she turned back to her anvil and got to work once work.

Saoirse blinked as the image faded, and realized guiltily that she’d dug her fingers into Elihu’s arm. And while his barky skin meant the gesture hurt less than it would for most, she knew he was concerned whenever she had one of those memory moments. “I’m fine,” she said automatically, before he even opened his mouth.

“Good to hear, but it’s still unsettling,” Elihu said, covering her hand with his as she loosened her grip. “It’s not like experience with Awakened souls is common, love. Every time you start staring out into space like that it makes me wonder if need to slap you to get you back.”

She laughed, tugging him into motion back down the hallway. “Only if I get stuck for, mmm... five minutes or more.”

“Noted, but hopefully won’t ever be necessary.”

She laughed again at his dry tone before they squeezed through the rubble at the top of the stairs again and carefully made their way down. Saoirse was rubbing some new bruises when the Steward’s voice rippled through the air again.

“Ah, you found it!” She sounded delighted. “That dagger was one of Lady Emiri’s favorite weapons. I thought ruffians had made off with it ages ago.”

“Really? This??” Saoirse brushed her fingers against the sheath. It was hard to believe anyone had actually wielded the tarnished blade within, let alone loved it.

“That’s tarnishin’ awful fast, Mir. You sure Masca didn’t pull a fast one on ya?” floated through her mind, accompanied by a half-there image of the dagger, in better shape but still going dull, a rough scratch that was maybe a rune of some kind marring the blade.

The vision was broken when the Steward laughed. “Don’t let looks fool you, dear. That’s quite a valuable blade you carry, though it has seen its share of use.”

“I’m sure it did, if it was a favorite,” Saoirse muttered. “We were gonna go poke around Brighthollow for a while before it gets dark, anything special we should know about it?”

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to reach the upper floor,” the Steward said, after a moment’s pause. “It’s been a long time, and I am unsure of the stairs’ condition.”

“The warning’s appreciated,” Elihu said with a nod. “Any critters moved in?”

“Some, yes, though I cannot read their intent. I would be cautious,” the Steward warned.

“Again, appreciated.” He half-bowed to the carven throne, and Saoirse felt the air shimmer with pleased amusement from the Steward as he reached for her hand. “Come on, if we need to be careful, this will take extra time.”

“Yep.” Saoirse half-skipped to close the small distance between them and take his hand. They were both quiet until halfway across the distance, when she got tired of the silence and asked, “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

“Still trying to wrap my head around the knowledge you used to be... that the person who was in charge of... of all this” --Elihu waved his free hand at the surrounding ruin--”is-is you now.”

“If you start ‘m’lady’ing me, I am going to slug you in the arm,” she informed him dryly.

“Well, you’ve always been that,” he said with a mischievous smile, raising her hand to kiss the back of it. “But I’ll save titles for when you’re in a position that requires them. Til then, it’ll be your name or various terms of endearment.”

She laughed and squeezed his hand. “I think I can live with that.”

“Good-” Elihu’s smile vanished at a rustle in the bushes, both of them giving the ragged hedges their full attention. All that emerged was a pair of squirrels tussling over an acorn, but the air around Saoirse went hazy even as she relaxed.

Despite the light tarnish she couldn’t get to go away, the blade still broke skin easily enough. The bandit shrieked in pain as the dagger pierced his chest, but even if she hated that it had come to this, she wouldn’t feel too guilty. They had attacked her home, tried to hurt her friends, and there were few sins greater than that. The bandit fell, last of the threat to Caed Nua, to Aloth, to Sagani, Kana... everyone she cared about. She wiped blood off the dagger’s blade with part of her already-ruined sleeve and caught her breath. It might have been a trick of the torchlight, but the blade looked even more tarnished, more dull, than when the fight started. Maybe Edér had been right... but it fit so well in her hand and few things did, so she didn’t want to give it up. As she turned the blade to examine it in the torches’ glow, she noticed that another scratch, this one definitely a rune of some kind, had appeared in the metal.

Saoirse came out of this one to Elihu gently shaking her shoulders. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” she said dizzily, blinking away lingering fog, as she covered his hands with hers.

He let out a breath shaky with relief and kissed her forehead. “Good thing; you were about thirty seconds from getting slapped in the face.”

“There’s no way it’s been five minutes!” she protested, wrinkling her nose at him.

“Felt like it,” Elihu muttered, letting his hands drop from beneath hers. He intertwined his fingers with hers once more and tugged toward the cottage doorway.

The lower floor of what had once been called Brighthollow was indeed overtaken with vines and other foliage, and there were definitely animal eyes staring at them from a few spots, Saoirse could feel them. But underneath it all, there was still something of the well-crafted, homey feel the place had originally captured. She and Elihu carefully explored what they could; stepping over vines and steering clear of the more obvious nests, until they’d run out of things to look at- long before Saoirse’s curiosity was sated.

“I really wanna look upstairs,” she admitted.

Elihu gave her a dubious look and shoved against the banister. A large chunk splintered inward, scattering a swarm of burrower-insects across the steps. “I don’t think that’s wise. This whole place is made of wood, Saoirse. If it’s all in this condition, every step could break through the floor, and I don’t fancy breaking bones.”

“Look, El, from what I’ve, y’know, seen, aumaua used to live in this place. If the floor can hold them, I think even dry-rotted it’ll be alright for a couple elves.”

“Oh, fine. You can go first, though.” He gestured up the stairs with a flourish.  “Since you’re lighter.”

“Happily.” Despite her flippancy, Saoirse did test each step before giving it her full weight. A couple gave slightly, but all held. “See? It’s fine.”

Elihu followed her up even more cautiously, but the stairs held for him as well.  “You know we don’t have long in here before it gets dark...?”

“I know.” Saoirse tucked her hair back behind her ears. “Let’s see what we can, though.”

It was somewhat slow going, testing each step before they took it, and some floorboards creaked alarmingly. There wasn’t much to be seen, either, as most of the rooms had been overtaken by flora and fauna. She “lost” Elihu a couple times, his skin and hair proving perfect camouflage in these surroundings. One room near the front now resembled an aviary--several different kinds of birds had made nests in the creeping vines and remnants of furniture. Saoirse beat a hasty retreat from that one, chased by a pair of jays who did not want their babies disturbed.

After leaving the room, she wandered down the hall, past a set of broken down bookshelves, and was met with a fallen-in door. Closer inspection revealed it was slightly nicer than the other doors in this place. This of course piqued Saoirse’s curiosity and she tried to squeeze through a gap between the fallen door and its frame.

The room on the other side was larger, she noted. There was one larger bed, rather than being shared quarter like the others. What was left of the furniture was nicer, including the large--if moldering--desk and the fireplace. Something in her soul pulsed with familiar warmth at the sight, and suddenly Saoirse was seeing the room as if through past eyes.

A warm fire crackled on the grate, the coziness and dancing light almost enough to make her forget her frustration. “I don’t understand,” she groused, digging the dagger’s point into her desk and glaring at the rusty, scratched up blade. “I take care of it, I clean it after every fight. Made my hand cramp, how much I polished it last time. And still this.” She released the badly-frayed grip and it clattered over, too dull to stick even in the soft wood. “I’m beginning to wonder if these runes are some sort of curse.”

“That wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility,” a voice said from off to the side. The speaker’s name stuck in her memory for only a moment. “You did talk Masca out of something that, while perhaps unethical, would have greatly increased her smithing abilities. Perhaps a dagger enchanted to... wear itself out faster than normal is her idea of repayment.”

“She didn’t seem the type,” she protested. She set the dagger’s point against her desk again and spun it idly, both flummoxed and irritated when it didn’t make a mark.

“Emiri,” he said with a fond smile, “you never think anyone seems the type.”

She leaned back in her chair, still studying the dagger. “And I’m usually right, Aloth.”

“You are,” he nodded. “But I hate the thought of you being hurt thanks to a rare occasion where you were wrong. Perhaps it’s time to select a new dagger? One that will keep its edge and actually be useful.”

“Maybe,” she sighed, absently petting the dog who had nuzzled into her lap. “But if this one’s under a curse or something, I’d rather break that than pick a new one.” She picked off bits of dried, sloughing leather and wrapped her hand around the hilt. “D’you how hard it is to find things that are a comfortable fit in aumaua-sized hands here? And I’ve been using it for a while. I hate to switch...”

He chuckled and tucked hair behind one ear. “Always sentiment over practicality with you.”

“Of course,” she laughed. “It’ll pay off some day...”

Saoirse’s awareness returned to her just as Elihu wriggled through the same door and frame gap she’d used to gain entrance. She blinked a few times, still staring at the desk, now bleached and rotting. There was something familiar about that elf, and not just because she’d ‘seen’ him in the library when she Awakened. But that was a puzzle for later. For now, Elihu was looking at her with curiosity that verged on concern even as he picked bits of rotted wood out of the moss and flowers growing along his scalp.

“This must’ve been her room,” Saoirse said, ignoring his unspoken question.

“How can you tell?” He scraped a fingernail through the moss spotting the armoire.

“Well, she was the Lady in charge, this room is nicer....” She sighed and raked her curls back from her face. “And I had another... flashback, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Again?” Elihu’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what, the third or fourth one since we got here?!”

“El, I’m walking around her home, which she loved enough to restore from rubble twice, with what was apparently her favorite dagger tucked in my belt, of course Emiri’s going to be drawn to the surface more.” Saoirse crossed to his side and cupped his cheek in one hand. “Just because I’m seein’ her memories doesn’t mean I’m any less me.” The thought hit her like a boulder. “In fact, everything I’ve remembered today has been about the dagger. It got to lookin’ like this despite her takin’ good care of it. She thought it might be cursed or something.”

“And you still want to keep it?” He pulled back to look at her incredulously.

“Yes, b’cause it’s a link to her, and she said if it was cursed, she’d break it. With how determined she was, I’d bet my ceremonial robes she succeeded.”

Elihu snorted. “Don’t let your father hear you say things like that. He already grumbles about you shirking your responsibilities to explore. If he thinks you’re not taking them seriously, he might give them to someone else.”

“He won’t,” Saoirse said, maybe a little too quickly, as her heart skipped a beat. Would he? Worrier he might be where she was concerned, Elihu was also realistic. The things he worried about tended to fall inside the realm of possibility. “He knows I value our history. And b’sides, that’s sort of what we’ve been doing; discovering history. Even if it’s just my personal history. From a few cycles ago.”

“Compelling an argument as that is,” Elihu smiled, “I think we need to call it a day on discovering your history.” He nodded toward a hole in the wall that had probably  been a window. The light was noticeably fainter and tinted heavily orange.

“Right.” Even as she agreed she was reluctant to leave. There was so much more to see here, but she had responsibilities at home the next several days, which drove her to wring every last bit out of today’s explorations. She wandered over to the hole and peered out. “Hey, there’s lots of heavy vines over here, we could probably climb down the wall if you don’t wanna risk the stairs again?”

Elihu glanced toward the collapsed door. “And not squeezing back through there would also be nice.” He joined her. “I’ll go first this time. Only fair.”

They both knew his connection to nature also meant he’d have an easier time finding a safe path down, which Saoirse could then follow. She nodded and stepped aside. Elihu was through the hole and down the wall in no time, and the way down didn’t seem too hard to follow. Saoirse followed him quickly, slipping just a little near the bottom.

Goodbye, Steward, she thought as she and Elihu headed for the ruined gate.

Goodbye Saoirse, the Steward’s voice echoed in her mind. I look forward to your next visit.

It might be a while, she warned apologetically.

A soft chuckle. I’m not going anywhere, dear.

Saoirse smiled at that as she and Elihu picked their way back across the river. If this is going to become a regular thing, maybe I should make a bridge... She could think of several ways to do it with varying levels of permanence. 

“Long day, huh?” Elihu commented. He settled one arm around Saoirse’s shoulders as they walked through the forest.

“But productive,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, yes, we found some odds and ends worth salvaging, a rusty knife, and picked up several new bruises in the process,” he said teasingly. “Very productive.”

“To me it was,” Saoirse countered, dodging a tree branch. “That rusty dagger is a strong link to Emiri, who you know I’m curious about, so to me it is worthwhile. I don’t care how useless it looks.” She drew the blade to get a better look at it, or started to.

The second her hand curled around the dagger hilt, the metal warmed under her touch and the air around them seemed to ring with the echoes of a high, clear bell that pierced down to Saoirse’s soul.  She froze in her tracks. Slowly, almost gingerly, she slid the blade free of its sheath.

And both she and Elihu gaped, for the weapon in her hand bore no resemblance to the worthless piece of metal he’d found in the armory. The blade was bright and polished steel, shining like silver, the dark leather around the grip firm and smooth. All in all, a piece of masterful craftsmanship anyone would be proud to own.

Elihu whistled. “Maybe not a curse, but there was definitely a spell of some kind involved there.”

“Look!” She held up the dagger, dull and tarnished blade now gleaming silver-bright. Her friends all raised eyebrows and whistled, and Kana gave her a wide smile.

“I knew there was some magic to it,” he chuckled. “And it seems fitting for you to have a blade most would cast aside turn out to be of immeasurable worth.”

“Very poetic.” She--former slave, now Lady of Caed Nua and traveling with the family she’d found--laughed and fought down the urge to kiss him on the cheek. As a distraction, she turned her attention back to the dagger, running her thumb over the runes that decorated the blade.

Saoirse smirked and indulged the impulse Emiri had quashed, pushing up on her toes to kiss Elihu on the cheek. “Thank you all the more for finding this. It’s a very fitting memento.”

He smiled crookedly. “You’re welcome.”

She studied the blade a moment more, noting the runes as well, then returned it to the sheath. Their meaning trickled from her memory and Saoirse smiled as she nudged Elihu back into motion. Very fitting memento indeed.