#scotpru

Bad Days Make Good Things Happen

~=o-o=~

The forest was dark. The dense treetops blocked the moonlight and the few stars in the cloudy night.

Allistor should have come home earlier.

The forest's non-magical creatures weren't too dangerous, and he could defend himself well if a creature such as a wolf or an owl did attack him, despite his broken staff. But the magical creatures were something else. He did not want to meet with any faeries. Those tiny things were as dangerous as a bloody dragon at night. And they didn't like humans.

Every step was careful, the minimum of sound too loud. Every shake of a branch or leaf put Allistor in alert. Every shadow that not his own was a potential enemy. Hell, even his own shadow could be an enemy. Every sound had him searching for the source. He wasn't even using a light for fear of attracting something.

“Wow, you really hate the night, don't you?”

Allistor stopped, looking all around for the source of the voice. Nothing. This creature either hid in the trees, or was invisible.

“I mean, look at how you stopped now! I doubt you'd have if it was day.”

It wasn't a spirit. Its voice was too solid.

“W...where are you?” Uttered Allistor. He hated his tone.

“Oh my elven spirits. I'm not gonna hurt you, don't be so fuckin' afraid.” It sounded offended. “Here, I'm at your right.”

Allistor whipped around, and there it was. Clothed in brown, barefoot and with a bow and arrows strapped to his back. An elf. Arms crossed, an offended expression and a prideful stance.

Oh, no. An elf was the last thing Allistor wanted to encounter in the middle of the forest. At night. With a broken staff. He took a discrete deep breath, and hid the fear from his expression. He hoped he could hide it from his body language.

“What did you decide to taunt me for?” He asked. The elf shrugged.

“I thought I should have some fun, since my community kicked me out,” was the relaxed answer. The elf leaned on a tree, crossing his ankles. He grinned. “You up for a game'a hide 'n seek?”

“I'd prefer to continue my way home,” replied Allistor. He gulped when the elf's grin faded. The elf pushed himself off the tree, smiling again.

“Aw, then I'll go with you 'til the edge of the forest.” He stepped over to Allistor and offered a hand. “This is how you humans present yourselves to each other, right? I'm Gilbert.”

The mage gave Gilbert a distrustful look, but shook his hand.

“Allistor Kirkland.”

No strange feelings, no spells hidden in the hand, nothing. Maybe Gilbert was being honest.

They walked. Allistor was wary, and kept on the watch for any antics Gilbert might try. One could never be too careful with an elf.

“So where the fuck is your house that you had to go through the forest?” Asked Gilbert after some time, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“On the other side of the forest,” answered Allistor, deadpan. “There's a road, but going through the forest is shorter and the danger doesn't change a lot.”

“Ah.” Gilbert raised his eyebrows in understanding. “And what had you so busy you took until midnight to complete?”

Sigh. Allistor wanted to be home and sleep after the long day, not talk to a bloody elf while trudging through the forest.

“Your staff is broken.”

“You don't bloody say!?” Snapped Allistor. Taken aback, Gilbert raised his hands beside his head.

“Okay, sorry! I just wanted to talk!”

Silence reigned for a while. When Allistor's anger cooled down, he realised what a huge mistake he had made. Since Gilbert hadn't left his side, he must be a friendly elf, because any other elf would have ripped Allistor's arm off, or at least a finger.

“I was on the city back there,” said Allistor, pointing over his shoulder. The city wasn't visible through the trees anymore, but that was its general direction. “I sell potions and make staffs and wands. Some rich lady wanted her staff perfect, so it took some time.”

“Oh, so now you decide to talk,” scoffed Gilbert, arms crossed and an eyebrow arched. “All right. What kinda potions do you make?”

“Any,” shrugged Allistor, voice tired. “Most people order one or two for some specific thing.”

“Oh geez, you sound tired.” Gilbert clapped once. “C'mon, ask me a question, it's my turn to talk.”

The mage knitted his brow, but obliged.

“Where did you use to live.” His question was more of a statement, as he didn't bother with the intonation.

“Down a river 'bout that direction.” He pointed. “It's a pretty big community. As I told you, though, they kicked me out.”

“Why would they.”

“Shed some light on my face.” Allistor refused. He wasn't risking it. “I'm an elf. If something comes, I'll fight it off.”

It was a good argument. Hesitant, Allistor concentrated energy on his hand and generated light. He raised it to Gilbert's head, and let out an ‘oh’.

Gilbert was an albino. Elves demonised light hair or skin. Red eyes as well. If it wasn't for Gilbert's pointy ears and manner of clothing, Allistor would've thought he wasn't an elf.

“Only reason they kept me was because my mother insisted I grew among them. As soon as I became an adult, they kicked me out.” His voice was a little strained. He shrugged with a bitter smile. “Guess I’ll live wherever and nowhere now.”

An outcast.

They weren't so different, then.

“Well, there's the edge of the forest.” Gilbert stopped walking. “I guess we part ways here.” He smiled and waved as he turned back and walked away.

Allistor didn't respond.

~=o=~

Knocking.

“I'll be right there!” Called Allistor. He rushed from his workshop to the kitchen-lounge, and opened the door. His eyes widened. “Dylan?!”

His older brother grinned.

“Hello, wee brother.” Dylan pushed past Allistor and sat on the sofa. “I need a favour.”

“Then I expect something in return,” responded Allistor, voice cold, closing the door.

“Tsk, tsk...” Dylan shook his head. “Arthur did always tell you not to expect too much from the world.” He looked at Allistor. “Seems you didn't like that advice.”

Allistor sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Well, if you don't do me something in return, I won't do anything at all for you.” He strolled to his material shelves, taking a pot of unicorn mane hair.

“And how d'you know there ain't a mage better than you for the favour?” Growled Dylan.

“Because you came to my house.” Allistor took one hair from the pot and closed it. Besides, if Dylan gave up on asking for the favour because of a price, it'd be a win-win situation.

“Fine.” Dylan stood. “What do you want for the favour?”

Allistor smirked.

“Ahh, now we're talking.” He took his broken staff. “It depends on my side of the trade. What do you want?”

Dylan walked to the shelves and took a herb jar, showing it to Allistor.

“This herb. I need around four times what's in the jar.” Allistor arched an eyebrow.

“So that's why you came here.” Allistor put down the now fixed staff. “For that, I'll want about three pounds of wool from your sheep.”

“What?!” Dylan spread his arms. “That's an absurd!”

“Well, I'm lacking fabric for clothes,” shrugged Allistor. “And that way, I won't need more for a long time.” He looked at Dylan. “Of course, we could always call the trade off.”

Pause.

“You're insufferable,” fumed Dylan. “I'll come back in ten days with the wool. If you don't have the herbs, trade's off.”

“Of course, same way around,” agreed Allistor. “Farewell, brother!” He waved as Dylan walked out and slammed the door. He smiled, satisfied.

~=o=~

Allistor lied down and let a drop of a potion fall on each of his eyes. He blinked repeatedly to let it spread and ease the pain, and stood. He took his staff, and walked out the door.

The cave with the herb he was looking for was around a hundred metres north-east into the forest. It was the only cave in the region containing the herb, and would be fine to visit if it weren't for the gasses it released which blinded a human on long exposure.

On the entrance, blue and purple plants announced it was a venomous environment. Those plants stuck to poisonous ones and used the poison to grow. Further in, the herb Allistor wanted grew in abundance. He collected enough to fill the sack he'd brought with him and turned back.

As he walked back to the entrance, he spotted a brown patch under a non-poisonous bush. Leather. It was ripped, showing wounds on very pale skin. Allistor pulled the bush back to reveal Gilbert, beaten, bloodied, and hanging onto a last thread of consciousness.

“Gilbert!” Allistor crouched down and slid his arms under the elf, who groaned in pain. “Stay with me, it's all right.” Allistor lifted him from the bush, careful not to let him hit the wall. “Who...?”

“Elves,” moaned Gilbert. His struggle to stay conscious was clear.

“Let yourself be unconscious, Gilbert,” said Allistor, voice as clear as he could make it. “I'll take you to my house and take care of you.”

With a weak nod, Gilbert fainted.

Allistor walked as fast as he could back to his house. Running would exhaust him too fast and created the danger of tripping. He set Gilbert on his bed and rushed to the kitchen to find good medicinal herbs. Coming back to his room with the herbs, water, bandages and a towel, he took most of Gilbert's clothing off, and cleaned the wounds. He used the herb and water to create a paste, which he rubbed on the wounds to avoid infection. It was a good thing Gilbert was asleep through it, because they could sting.

A few hours after Allistor had bandaged the wounds, Gilbert woke up. A crash and a pained yell came from the bedroom, and Allistor rushed into it to find Gilbert on the floor curled up.

“Gilbert?”

Gilbert curled up tighter. Realising he was likely intimidating him with his height, Allistor crouched and laid a gentle hand on Gilbert's shoulder.

“I’m Allistor, Gilbert. Remember me? From a few days ago, in the forest?”

After a few seconds, Gilbert's posture relaxed a little. He turned over and looked at Allistor. Allistor made the gentlest expression he could with his bulky figure and thick eyebrows that were always low. Gilbert's whole body relaxed, including his breathing.

“Let's get you back on the bed,” offered Allistor. As Gilbert nodded, he lifted Gilbert onto the bed and guided his limbs to a natural position. “With proper treatment, your wounds should heal in around seven days,” he informed. “Do you want water?” Gilbert nodded. “I'll go get some for you.” Allistor walked to the well outside.

~=o=~

Gilbert's recovery was quicker than Allistor expected; likely due to elves healing faster, as Gilbert himself suggested. Well, neither Gilbert nor Allistor were complaining. Gilbert, to pay Allistor back for taking care of him, began helping keep the house clean and make the potions.

“I'll leave as soon as I've paid you back,” he stated one afternoon. “You wouldn't want an albino elf in your house.”

At the moment, Allistor didn't respond, only nodding in acknowledging. Later that night, though, he noticed he would miss having company. The next morning, he confronted Gilbert about it.

“You don't need'a leave,” he offered. Gilbert looked over from the pot he'd been cleaning. “It ain't good to live alone in the woods. Besides, I'd miss your company,” he admitted, a little bashful.

Allistor had never seen Gilbert so happy. He thanked Allistor more than once, and promised to help him with any duty he wanted. Allistor rolled his eyes and said ‘of course’.

A day later, Dylan appeared in the front door, with the three pounds of wool he'd promised. Allistor let him into the house, and examined the wool. It had no spells or potions. Allistor nodded in approval, and took the sack of herb from the kitchen. Dylan inspected it, and seeing it only had a spell to keep the herb fresh, stood.

“It's been a good trade, wee brother.” He grinned.

“Of course.”

As Dylan walked to the front door, Gilbert waltzed into the lounge-kitchen.

“Allie, the batch of instant ice potions is rea- oh you have a visitor shit I'm sorry.”

Dylan whipped around to stare at Gilbert, an albino elf, in Kirkland-made clothing, who’d called Allistor by a nickname, and talked like he lived in Allistor's house.

“Who is that?” Dylan punctuated the syllables with danger. Gilbert stepped back in the direction of the bedroom.

“He's Gilbert.” Allistor's voice was nonchalant as he threw an unworried glance at Dylan. “Lives here, helps with the job.”

Silence. Dylan's narrowed eyes cooled the room. Gilbert was ready to hide, and Allistor raised an eyebrow in a casual stance.

“Every time I come here,” scoffed Dylan, “you're a bigger disappointment to the family.” He turned and left.

Sighing, Allistor closed the door.

“Rude.” He turned back to Gilbert. “Come on, let's pack the potions.”

“What about your visitor?” Gilbert rushed to help him.

“What, my brother? He's an asshole,” shrugged Allistor. “My family already hates me anyway, and it's not like you're going to affect my job.”

Stillness. Then, Gilbert grinned.

“All right!”