The Lonely Elf

Kalinin, River Hamlet

12th of Winter Season, 1266

The tall figure stumbles drunkenly through the street, the long trail of his black cloak dragging over the muddy ice and slush strewn streets. He carries an empty glass bottle in one tight fist and reeks of alcohol and pond water. Villagers part around him as if he were a shark in the water and they the timid sardines. He's looking for a place to rest or perhaps another drink. Before he sighs and collapses into a stinking pile of hay, someone caught a glimpse of his face, if only for a moment, from the alleyway across the street. The rugged point of the drunk's handsome chin jutted out from underneath his black hooded cloak and a lock of white hair fell over his shadowed eyes. Someone takes note of the drunken stranger, studies him for a moment, then makes for the shadows once more.

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Gods, Elwyn had a headache. Last thing he remembered he was at the Honeyed Tavern trying to drink some dragonborn chick under the table and now he was... well, where was he exactly? As the elf sat up and picked bits of dirty hay out of his hair he caught a whiff of himself. What he wouldn't give for the warm luxury of an elven bathhouse right now. His mouth tasted like yesterdays cheap meat stew. Elwyn stepped to his feet, his boots crunching on dirty sleet and packed snow.

Something wet and cold hit his nose as he stepped out into the street once more. A snowflake. All around him drifted gentle flurries of snow. Winter had arrived in Kalinin there was no doubt. Lucky elves didn't feel cold the way other creatures, like humans, did. Bustling around him in their wolfskin coats and hats, headed home to warm themselves by their glowing hearths.

Elwyn scoffed as a memory of a warm hearth and soft hands surfaced in his mind. He snuffed it out, shook his head, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He planned to make for the next town before the worst of the winter weather descended on the valley. Too many people in this village had already seen his face, might guess who he was. He needed to lay low for a little while.

A trio of guards walked past and Elwyn dipped his head low, hard to do when you stood at nearly six and a half feet tall. Suddenly he tripped over something that squealed as he went crashing down on top of it.

"What the devil?" Elwyn cried as he righted himself. His knees had scraped across the cobblestone street and cold slush soaked in, numbing his knees. The guards either hadn't noticed the commotion or took no interest in him and had kept walking. More important parties to attend to, Elwyn supposed.

Something small and green wriggled to its feet. It was a goblin dressed in a brown coat and pants. He was staring at the elf with piercing green eyes that matched his swamp green skin.

"What the?" Elwyn said.

The goblin reached behind himself and pulled out a lute. Well, half of a lute. The rest of the instrument was smashed across the cobblestones, strings and bits of wood scattered here and there. The goblin shrieked and cradled the remaining half of his lute and shushed it like it was a baby.

"My lute!" The goblin cried. "Look at what you've done to my lute you big oaf! Why don't you watch where you're going next time?" He bared his sharp teeth at Elwyn.

Down the street, the guards had stopped walking. They were pretending to have a conversation with each other, but Elwyn knew they were listening.

"Would you shut up?" The elf whispered, rising slowly to his feet, keeping his back to the guards.

"Oh, is our teensy elf man afraid someone will hear him? Afraid of the big bad guards?" The goblin mocked.

"Please just... please," Elwyn begged through gritted teeth. He tugged his black hood down further over his face and unmistakable white hair.

"Oh, you'll pay for this," the goblin sneered angrily, clutching his lute tightly in his tiny fist. "Guards! Guards help!" He shouted. "Thief! Thief here!"

"Please, I'll pay you," Elwyn insisted. "I'll fix your lute. Or I'll pay to have it fixed." He hated begging, hated groveling, but he had no choice. He could not get caught. Not now, not ever.

The goblin eyed him more suspiciously now. "What're you running from so far that you'd beg a goblin for help?"

The guards had turned back around and were beginning to approach them. Every boot fall in the snow was a death sentence for the elf.

Elwyn gritted his teeth but said nothing, only begged the goblin with his eyes.

"You got coin, pretty boy?" The goblin said finally. "Because this was a one of a kind, hand crafted...woah."

The elf had flashed his purse full of gold at the goblin, whose big green eyes glittered with greed. The guards were almost on them.

"Who are you?" The goblin asked.

"I'll tell you everything, I'll buy you a new lute just please call off the guards." Elwyn asked one final time, tucking his purse back into the folds of his cloak.

The goblin regained his senses. "Oh, um... never mind sirs!" He called to the trio of River Hamlet guards now standing directly behind Elwyn. "N...no trouble here! Just a misunderstanding, that's all!" He let out a tiny laugh and glued on his best half hearted smile.

The guards looked from the grinning goblin to the back of Elwyn's tall dark form to each other. They shrugged and retreated the way they had come once more.

The elf dared breathe again.

"You owe me double now pretty boy. Or should I call you prince Airthorn?" The goblin tested.

Elwyn's face went ashen. He lunged at the goblin, grabbing him by the collar of his coat.

"Who told you who I was? Who sent you?" He demanded.

The goblin smirked. "You did. Just now. I had my suspicions but you just confirmed them."

Elwyn dropped him and scoffed. "Goblins. Tricky as devils."

The tiny green creature stuck out a thin hand. "They call me Golx. And if you don't want me revealing your precious secret, you now work for me."

The elf's eyes darkened. "I work for no one but myself. Least of all a goblin."

Golx dropped his hand when Elwyn didn't shake it. "You don't scare me, pretty boy. I could just as easily call those guards back here and tell them who you are. I hear Lorasys is lovely this time of year. I wonder how much they'll pay me for returning their lost prince. I bet I could live like a king for the rest of my life!"

Elwyn sighed in frustration. "Fine. I'll go with you to fix your blasted lute. Just keep your voice down."

"Pleasure doing business with you, your highness," Golx said.

The elf cringed. "Just Elwyn, please."

Golx shrugged. "We have to make a stop by my guild house on the way to the lute makers. Don't worry, it's on the way."

"Guild house? I didn't agree to this," Elwyn said. So much attention already, so many eyes, and now the goblin knew exactly who he was? It was almost more than he could bear. The thought of being hauled all the way back to Lorasys and his father... no. He wouldn't go. They couldn't make him. He could just keep running to the far distant corners of Kalinin where his father's guards couldn't find him. He shivered. He just had to keep his head down for now until his debt to this goblin was repaid.

Elwyn noticed a symbol stitched onto the back of the goblin's coat. A flame crossed by a black cats paw.

"Is that your guild symbol?" He asked.

Golx grinned. "You'll see."

Elwyn scoffed. "Cryptic." Great. More people. Just what he needed today. Actually what he really needed was some...

"Is that peach jam?" He asked, catching the scent of something sweet and wonderfully warm on the wind. It smelled like sticky summer afternoons and green grass between his toes.

"I'm surprised you can smell that all the way out here. Flora is the best chef we've ever had," Golx said proudly.

"How... where did she get peaches this far into winter?" Elwyn asked.

Golx shrugged. "Ask her yourself."

They stopped walking in front of a nondescript wooden building with no markers on it except for a "VW" someone had burned into the door.

Golx smirked. "Victor has always had a flair for the dramatic."

"You sure this is safe?" Elwyn asked as the goblin reached for the door handle.

Golx grinned with all his pointy teeth. "These people are my family. The only one I've ever had. I trust them with my life." He eased open the door.

Instantly the smell of fresh warm peach jam and baking bread wafted over Elwyn. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until that moment. He even thought he could smell tavern mead. Being an elf gave him exceptional senses, far beyond that of mortal men.

They entered into a long warm guild hall lined with wood tables, well worn with years of meals and drinks, ending with a roaring hearth against the back wall. Around the top edges of the hall a second story landing circled all the way around the room.

Three people sat at one of the tables closest to the hearth, eating and talking noisily. Two humans, one man and one woman, and one hulking orc man with mottled green skin who took up half of the table with his plates of food alone. An entire roast goose dripping with crispy fat and fresh green herbs, plates of roasted carrots and beans, something that looked like dark berries swimming in syrup, and countless pints of empty mead lay across the table.

Someone said something that made the orc roar with laughter and pound his meaty green fist on the table, ratting every dish and goblet. A halfling woman came rushing in from what was probably a kitchen, her curly red hair flying out of its scarf like a birds nest around her pale face. She set a tray of fresh baked bread on the table before the others, pushing aside empty plates to do so. As she raised her apron to wipe her sweaty brow, she spotted Elwyn and Golx standing near the door and let out a mousey squeak. The chatter stopped and everyone turned to look.

"Brought in another stray, have you Golx?" The human woman asked, her voice smooth like honey. She was tall with hair like the darkest ruby and hooded eyes that Elwyn guessed could make lesser men fall to their knees. Eyes that were now singularly set on him. She wore blue flowing robes and had tiny electric sparks dancing around her fingertips. She was a wizard, then.

The human man beside her watched her move more than he did the stranger at his door. He was equally as tall as the woman and had swept back brown hair and a full beard to match. A cleric, Elwyn guessed, by his brown and finely pressed holy-looking robes.

The orc, who was now knuckle deep in what appeared to be a leg of turkey, was probably the fighter of this group. Big meaty types like him always were. The halfling was looking to the man for judgement. So he was the leader of this group, then, even though the woman had the air of power surrounding her. Interesting. The man took a step towards them and crossed his arms.

"This better be good Golx," he said.

"Oh don't worry Victor," Golx said with a toothy smile. "Our friend here is indebted to me, and until he pays, he's the newest member of the adventurers guild."

Elwyn raised his eyebrows. "I did not agree to this."

The woman smiled. "I'm Ruthie," she said, looking the elf up and down. "That's Victor, our guild leader. The beefy one still gorging himself is Dirt. The mousy one over there is Flora, and somewhere around here is our resident necromancer Vyra. Oh, and Cheese."

A black cat came stalking out of a distant room, followed by the scariest looking half elf woman Elwyn had ever laid eyes on. Her black hair and deep set black eyes trailed across everyone in the room as she stuck to the shadowed bits along the edges of the hall.

"Bet you can't guess whose called Vyra and whose called Cheese!" Golx laughed.

Vyra the half elf woman hissed while Cheese the cat licked his paws absentmindedly.

"We've been needing a stealth archer on our team ever since Jay left. Welcome to the guild, um, what did you say your name was?" Victor asked.

The elf took a deep breath and removed his hood, letting his long white hair fall down and letting them see how tall he really was. The halfling sucked in a breath.

"Elwyn the high elf ranger. And that's all you need to know for now," he said.

Ruthie smirked. "Welcome aboard our band of misfits, Elwyn the high elf ranger. I think you'll fit right in here."

Something stirred in Elwyn, a feeling he couldn't quite place. A tugging towards something new, something hopeful. Something he hadn't felt in a long, long time.