Fourteenth Day Of Spring, Year… Wait, What Year Is It? Hm… First Year Of Ascendency, That Will Do
By: Dreamchaser
I found him in Silverwood. After delivering some wands to the quartermaster at Quicksilver College, I was enjoying some lovely peace while watching Selrina’s ears twitch as she loped along the path, thanks be to the Vigil. My mare’s ears are very sensitive, you see. I think her ears twitch due to the small breeze she makes while galloping. It’s an amusing thought.
Anyway, then I heard some crying. Blubbering, in fact. Thinking it odd, I reigned Selrina in, dismounted, and strode up to the tree where the noise was coming from. Imagine my surprise when I found a satyr, massively built, huge polearm resting across his knees. Blubbering. He was sobbing as if his soul had broken. I suppose, after all, it had.
I began speaking to him cautiously in the common tongue, without getting a response. So then I tried elven. And then I thought, Ariel, you idiot, they don’t teach Telaran languages on the Plane of Life. With a sigh I realized that this may be a bigger problem than I had originally thought. My heart had gone out to him in pity, but perhaps he was crying for a reason that I hadn’t fathomed? Perhaps because he hadn’t killed a Telaran properly as his master had asked?
So I backed away a bit, hoping that his lack of response meant that he hadn’t seen me at all. No luck there. A stream of guttural sounds issued forth from his cleft lips, and they sounded plaintive. And he still sniffled, but had at least stopped sobbing. His odd eyes fixed on me with a submissive gaze.
“Vigil protect me from evil,†I whispered as I reached down, extending a hand. He took it, his gigantic paw dwarfing my grasp. I tugged a bit, hopefully explaining that I wanted to help him up, and he seemed confused. Finally a sparkle of faint delight shone in his eyes, and he tugged a bit in return, which immediately set me off balance and threatened to topple me over into him. Of course. How could I have ever hoped that a slight figured such as myself could help lift such a large being.
He stood then, on his own with the help of his weapon, never dropping my hand, and then again released a string of odd sounds that I could make no sense of. He seemed glad to see me, glad to have me there. I don’t know why I believed it, but I did. The voice of the Vigil in my heart, perhaps. My heart was at peace and could sense no wrongdoing. And I had heard that some fae were noble indeed.
I pointed to myself in way of introduction and spoke my name, then pointed at him. He shrugged, eyes downcast, mumbling something dejectedly. I sighed. No idea what that meant. “Very well,†I commanded, “I shall call you Gabriel.†He looked up without comprehension.
“Gabriel,†I repeated, poking his bare, greenish flesh. “Your name is Gabriel. Are you all right?â€
I give him credit for trying to speak the name, though it did come out rather garbled. And then he dropped to his knees in front of me, pressing my hand to his bony forehead.
Slightly repulsed, I tried to pull my hand away, but then he brought it to his pale twisted lips. Blinking as my stomach churned, I tried to calm myself by whispering a prayer.
There was no help for it, I suppose. He chose me as I chose him, or rather, the Vigil had chosen both of us. I must admit that I have become rather fond of the brute, as he is an excellent bodyguard. Unfortunately though, I have not been successful in my attempts to teach him our language. I have taught him the benefits of personal hygiene, however. He does seem immensely pleased when his hooves and horns are polished.