Winds of Change: Oenemi Hawksong

[lakhena]

She chose to take her own life, with the passing of her loved one. How he perished I do not know, whether it was through violence, accident, despair, or an ailment. Perhaps it did not matter so much how but his lingering absence.

As I released her crystal roses into the murky waters of the swamp, I could not help but think of that time, so many years ago, and yet still fresh in my memory, as if it were yesterday.

[The ink blotches somewhat. Then below the entry, there is a small sketch of an uncommon flower, typically found by the shores of large bodies of water. Further below it is additional text.]

I remember my despair and my desire to join him. And then there was my fear -- that he might not be waiting. At least, not for me. After all, he had never told me he would.

I pray that should her spirit travel to the same place as his, that Mithika find the happiness she believed lost here.

[lakhena]

What I want is to build a new haven where all quessir will feel welcome, especially those who feel abandoned, unwanted and yet, deep down, desire to become whole again.

[lakhena]

I did not think my absence would have caused such a stir. It might have gone unnoticed, had it not been for that promise made to Glenduil. It was a promise drawn out by other memories, memories he knows nothing of. Memories I’ve shared with only one other.

And now, it seems he slips from me. Yet he claims it is I who is slipping away.

[lakhena]

It was unexpected, that I should have a student in him. He asked of many things, and then of the Seldarine, anything and everything that I would teach him. He reminded me of a parched desert, where despite the rain having barely touched it, he desires to have a flowering garden.

For now, I've agreed to share stories with him, one tale at a time. We sat for some time, speaking of the Winged Mother and her teachings, and then I shared with him the tale of Araushnee's betrayal of Corellon. Were I trained in such things, I might have begun his lessons with a different tale, of the creation of our People or even named for him all of the Seldarine, that he might recognize and record them, close to his heart.

In doing this, I recalled Beloril's words, before my fateful journey in the Night Below, of how we needed to teach each one that we could, as they came to us. A safe and welcoming place is what is needed, and we, who would be the teachers, are the ones who must ensure that it is provided for them.

[lakhena]

This is the second time one of Yathaghera's magnificent creatures has appeared to me. It is the second time in so many months, where some may never have the honor in a lifetime. It is as I told Rimieh, this is no coincidence, though what the gods will, I cannot say for certain.

The creature blessed me, after it had spoken the Old One's will. I am uncertain though, if the message was meant only for the others, or whether it, too, could see through me as it claimed the Old One can see through all.

The memories that it stirs, already stirred by Glenduil's gift, the gift I did not refuse but have not fully accepted. Were Yathaghera's words also meant for me..? Am I not one in body and spirit?

[lakhena]

When someone says that he does not wish to hurt you, it means that he knows he already has and he will again, by what he says, but still he has to say it. By the third time he told me he did not want to, it was already done.

It began when he said that he had never truly looked at the color of my eyes. And then he said they reminded him of the unicorn that had stood before us both. That unicorn was a blessing to me, a painful reminder to him.

It continued when he said he had never seen me angry with him, and I told him I had been, once. That time, walking with Glenduil, after the dhaerow had attacked. I could hardly keep up as he walked ahead, without a glance back, to Suzail. I so desperately wanted him to prove Glenduil wrong.

He says that he’s not like Kythorin. I’ve always known that. And yet, it is the same.

He is not leaving and yet he is. He says he wants me and yet not as I am now.

Winged Mother, how is it not the same?

[lakhena]

[There is an unusual, but elegant symbol sketched lightly in the margins of this entry.]

He broke a promise and said what I had never expected him to say. Another promise broken, though perhaps not the last. The significance is not lost upon me-- how much he values his word. And yet, I wonder if it is easy to break promises with me. This I am both wary of and in appreciation.

I hold hope still, despite what he said. Because of it.

[lakhena]

He posed the question of whom I would side with, if there were a situation where he and our kin were violently opposed. I told him I didn’t believe in extremities. That I would stand between the two and create an alternative.

He thinks that our People would believe my actions a betrayal. I told him it was not so. I needn’t make a choice between one or the other. There is still hope that a bridge between the two can be made.

He says that I am evading the question and unwilling to choose. He thinks that I will, one day, be forced to. And yet, he does not see how he has not chosen either. To this point, I have spared him the pain of having to choose-- to stay with the past that continues to harm him or embrace the change the future brings.

And yet, in not choosing, he has already done so.

[lakhena]

I've never opened myself like that before, not even with Kythorin.  It is as they say, that there is nothing more intimate...  Nothing more personal, than to feel the presence of another within the recesses of your mind, without any place to hide that he could not follow.  It was frightening.

And it binds us forever together, in ways that others may never understand.

[lakhena]

[There is the idle sketch of a stack of pebbles.]

Rimieh made me a promise, despite having said, long ago, that he would not. It is perhaps a small thing, in exchange for a small thing from me. It should be a minor concession, but in a way, it is not. It changes only the smallest of things, but those small things oft have the loudest voices.

It is the small things that worry me – the things he should understand but does not, that others take for granted. Even so, I realize I am a hypocrite, for desiring it. How can I ask him to be faithful when I myself have made him unfaithful?

What right have I to expect it of him?

And yet, he’s given me a promise, even if it is borne out of a broken promise, a promise that, in a way, breaks another.

[lakhena]

Rimieh asked me if I had deliberately tried to harm myself because of what I had seen.  I hadn't, and no matter what he or others might do, I would not.  It would serve no purpose and change nothing, save make myself appear a weak fool... 
 
... though I was foolish to have not seen them converge upon me.  Too careless, far too careless I've become these days.  I've allowed too many distractions to draw my attention away of late. I need to remember why I am here and the promises I've made.
 
Though there is a part of me still that wonders whether I should have leapt into the wind to see where it would take me...

[lakhena]

[There is the picture of an unusual blue feather.]

I leapt into the wind and let it take me where it pleased, for no reason other than my own desire… with no thoughts of ought, should, those thoughts that he claims are weak. I let that all fall away, if only for a few hours, a single night, a short reprieve. I danced while the rain fell in torrents and the lightning crashed around me.

I tasted the wind and felt the thrill of it. I embraced it, without regret.

Perhaps I ought not, but I cannot deny the truth… that though I try not to, I long for him still.

[lakhena]

I spoke with Entori, and it seemed as if our conversation from so many moons ago, in the Suzail gardens, continued without the interruption of time. He inquired about Cassius, Glenduil, and the one who names himself the Tiger.  However, these were all trivial matters, idle conversation to what he truly wished to discuss or rather, what he felt he had to impress upon me.

He thinks I endanger all of our People with my actions, that I may unravel what has been so carefully built here.  I am astonished that he would believe my actions would do so, but even more so that I, a single quessir, could have so much influence.

Perhaps this is merely another reminder that I move upon the right path.

In only a few day's time, I will leave these lands, to return in  no more than two tendays.  The winds gather, and soon, at the autumnal equinox, they will be at their strongest. I will dance for the Winged Mother, I will pray, and as always, I will hold hope before me.

Before I leave though, I want to see him again, and if he will accept it, present another gift.  A true gift this time, and not just a reminder of the past. 

[lakhena]

The pale moon elf stretched out her bare arms, her palms opening skywards as the wind lifted her even higher. Her translucent, pale blue robes whipped around her slender frame, as the handfuls of delicate white, purple, and red anemones, the flowers carrying the name of the wind, swirled around her. The diminuitive blossoms carried no scent as the petals brushed her lightly and then floated away. The winds were at their strongest at the height of the autumnal equinox, and she had been fortunate to arrive when she had. Around her, silhouetted against the deep azure ocean of the clear skies, the other dancers twirled, leapt, and laughed.

-------

He smiled, though there was a trace of sadness in the corner of his lips, accentuated by the softness of his words. “I will be here, waiting.”

-------

“Tis not wrong to want...”
“It is not wrong to take, either. If you willingly accept the price.”
The crackle of the fire nearly drowned out the words that followed, so softly whispered.
“Everything has a price.”

She wrapped her arms around him, her head lowered. Even as close as they were, it yet felt they were leagues apart.

-------

Bright eyes met her own, earnest, eager, and hopeful. Oenemi smiled. He understood why it was important, what she wanted to do, and most importantly, he shared in her dream as well. His blade and his bow he offered as well, demonstrating a willingness to act where so very few had done so.

A quiet breeze danced through the clearing, carrying with it a handful of fallen leaves, red, orange, and yellow, that swirled once around them before fluttering away, along a path that only it knew the destination of.

--------

There was no hesitation this time, though she held her breath, leaning in before he did as well. And then he recoiled, putting a hand up to keep her away. She blinked, a flush quickly appearing upon her cheeks.

It was another game, one of the many he loved to play. Oenemi leaned in again, “…I won’t make you break your promise…”

--------

The aura of death and decay that emanated from the altar was unmistakeable and vile, raising bile to her lips. The pale moon elf stared at the runes etched deep into the stone, before unstoppering the clear vial she held. In the other hand, she held the delicate token of the Winged Mother’s favor. The blessed water sizzled on the stone of the altar, and Oenemi found herself quickly surrounded…

--------

“Why do you think I brought you here..?”
Slowly, a hand was extended, fingers reaching out, waiting.

[lakhena]

[The following entry follows a series of sketches, the first in what appears to be quite some time.]

I stayed with him as he asked me to, not leaving until dawn's first light. I had thought it would be difficult, leaving, and it was, but part of me knows that it would have been more difficult to stay.

It bothers him what others say. It bothers him that he would be responsible for me. It bothers him that we could become more than what we are now. But what we are now I cannot say.

If he wishes to be free, so be it. I will not cage him.

--------------

[Below a sketch of what appears to be the impression of a wyrm-claw in soft ground.]

The unborn young of a wyrm has been stolen. We travel now in search of the wyrm's whereabouts or another clue that can lead us to the thieves.

I've not seen Rimieh, but perhaps it is better this way.

[lakhena]

“If anything happens to me, I want you to keep it. Do you understand?” His hand reached for the blade she had never seen drawn before.

Only days later, she received a note, written in a hand she had never thought she would see again, the hand of a dead quessir who was buried in a place she was forbidden from. The plea contained no name, no details, but the message was clear enough.

Oenemi had searched for days, from his usual haunts to the places they had lingered together and then in the secret places that only they knew. One place she avoided with a growing dread, until there were no others.

There, atop the mountain, amidst the gathering storm, the snow swirling around and upon him, he sat... so still that she thought she was perhaps too late… but there, she saw it clearly in the frigid mountain air -- the sign she had been waiting for -- a thin wisp of breath that escaped his chapped lips. She offered her gratitude to the Winged Mother, whispering a silent prayer she could move him once more…

The words that spilled from his lips, however, cut her deeply.
“They have taken everything from me.”
“Am I nothing then?”
“Go.”

[lakhena]

The woman laughed easily, taking another long swig of her honeyed mead, her merry eyes fixed on Oenemi with a knowing smirk. “Are you and him...bonded?“

“We love each other, but nay, we are not bonded.” There had been a time he had wanted to. There was never a time when she was the only one he had loved, but he had, for a time, been faithful, lavishing attentions only on her. Oenemi continued, her voice soft, “not all quessir do... tisn’t necessary…”

The woman abruptly placed her goblet down, her voice cutting in, “Not if the love is known and shared by both. Do you know that he feels the same?”

Oenemi glanced to her own drink. She could feel the woman’s scrutinizing gaze. “He and I view love in a different light.”

A blush crept into her cheeks.

“He loves me in the only manner he knows how.”

[lakhena]

The question burned on her lips, but she did not press. His expression was unreadable. For several moments more, she held his gaze.

"I trust you."

She slipped the vial of poison to him, not needing to know what he intended to do with it. Mere moments afterwards, she had already left.

[lakhena]

The axe hitting the amber made a sharp, distinct sound. There was at first a small tremor, then a larger one, followed by a shaking that indicated even the earth felt the sudden release. Those surrounding the ancient oak looked at each other.

It was beginning.
____________________________________________________

He brought a hand up, lightly caressing her cheek before he wiped the moisture from her eyes. “I’ve little faith that you understand love. I've little faith that what you feel for me is what you think it is.”

She stood still, not daring to move as his softly spoken, despondent words continued to cut her.

“I cannot give you that. What he did just now, that made you smile like that and made you stare up at the sky as though you were dreaming...”
____________________________________________________

Within the secluded grove, the sounds of the forest around them receded. The air was still, quiet, as if waiting for her to break the silence. Her voice was soft but firm, carrying through the grove.

“Ancient one who bears many names, Silverymoon and Yathaghera, I have been remiss in not paying my respects...”

She could still feel it, the touch of the unicorn’s horn upon her brow, and the warmth that had radiated, enveloped, and nearly overwhelmed her.

“Twas here that you did gift me with the moment of solace and joy that has eluded me since.... and it shames me that the tranquility here was broken. Your Chosen have been felled, not only in these woods, but in the others of these lands... I shall find the cause, and I shall make them pay tenfold.”

Weeks and months they had searched, frantically, knowing the source of the blood that had been smeared upon the gates. The sneers and bared fangs of the orcbloods had been especially wicked, knowing they had crossed a boundary so few braved. Oenemi had shivered with the delight the sting of her bow had brought.

“One already lays upon the forest floor, his neck bare for the wild animals to consume him. The others who do this shall suffer the same fate.”

The anger already within her hardened.

“So do I swear... “
____________________________________________________

The words hung in the air between them, whispered so softly, she almost did not catch them. They were words he had never spoken to her before, words he had so astutely avoided.

“I am sorry.”

[lakhena]

Her silvery blue eyes looked past the cold steel bars, to the small confinement place that held the dark-haired elf within. Though clean, the walls, floor and ceiling were all made of the same cold, dark-grey stone. The shadows within were extremely long, and there was no window.

She listened only half-heartedly to the exchange between the People’s Champion and the scowling mage on the same side of the bars as her. As the mage’s sneer faded, her gaze shifted to Thril, studying his profile, and the scars beneath his eye, upon his cheek. Oenemi leaned in a bit closer, her delicate fingers slipping a small, embroidered pouch beyond the hated iron bars. He took it carefully, his gaze curious as he opened the contents.

“I brought you the scent of the woods and the fields.”

If he saw the guilt within her eyes, he did not comment, thanking her quietly with a soft smile and tucking the small pouch away.
____________________________________________________

“I could have lost you...” Carefully, he applied the thick paste, allowing it to set, her arm numbing, before taking out the needle and animal gut. His expression was somber and subdued, the moon bathing his features in a pale, silvery light.

“I know you didn’t mean to.”
“I didn’t mean to kill Tehlar either.”

After he was finished, she brushed aside the medical supplies and carefully slipped her arms around him. He touched his forehead to hers, his green eyes gazing at her steadfastly. His whispered words were quiet, floating softly between them.

“Stay with me.”
____________________________________________________

She looked at him pointedly, her voice low but edged.
“Is his desire more important than my own?”

He looked pained at her question, but she pressed closer, bidding him to answer. His words were sobering, echoing those whispered earlier by another.

“I'm not certain you can have both, Oenemi.”
____________________________________________________

The dagger lay between them, the edge of the blade catching the light from the flickering candle. Her slender fingers brushed the curved hilt, shaped in the form of a grasping dragon.... as his whispered words, calm and without any sense of urgency, drifted to her.

“It’s your choice.”

Slowly, her fingers curled around the hilt, the miniature scales of the wyrm cold against her palm. She could feel his eyes watching her every movement as she drew up the blade to inspect it closer. Her soft reply would have been lost, were it not for the closeness between them.

“I will do it on my own terms.”

She released the dagger, letting it fall between them once more.

[lakhena]

She had wanted to say something, but before she could gather the courage and the words to stop him, he had already smiled pleasantly to the others and nodded his farewell. His arm was offered and taken, and Oenemi watched as the two strode off, exchanging whispers. She had not been spared a glance.

It should not have hurt, but it did.
____________________________________________________

The feathers fell softly from the sky and everything around her seemed to quiet... the teasing tenor of the minstrel, Nakiasha’s wonder, the slightly shrill laughter of the woman beside Shamaoke... It was in that moment that the gentle whispering of the wind became clear.

Her slender fingers reached to the unusually carved flute that had not left her side. To her, it had been a symbol of their love, as well as a reminder of her grief. How many times had she stroked its curved frame, tracing the delicate etchings, as she had longed for him? Slowly, she loosened the knots.
____________________________________________________

One small part of her had hoped he would surprise her. One small part waited for him to appear, to seize her in his arms, laugh, and make the world melt away.
____________________________________________________

“I have not once taken them off since she gave them. For all the times she discarded and re-took up anything I may have given her. All the times she gave and swallowed her words and promises.”

His words were so quiet, gentle and tender, edged with a vulnerability that he had always kept so carefully guarded. Her silvery blue eyes did not leave his, as the words continued to fall from his lips, softly floating to her.

“I want you to remember what you mean to me.”

Slowly, she closed her hand around the simple, elegant band. It had held the threadings of the Weave once, but no longer. Still, it was warm from his touch.

“I want you to wear it for me.“

They both lowered their gazes, watching as she slipped the ring onto her finger. The band fit snugly, as if it had always rested there.
____________________________________________________

Upon the edge of the ravine, Oenemi stood, her ebony hair whipping from her pale, upturned face. She extended her arms out to the sides and shouted, her cry echoing down the chasm, then lifted and carried by the wind.

[lakhena]

Gently, she took his hand as they knelt together before the old hidden stones, then lowered her gaze. The warmth from his hand was a stark contrast to the growing coolness of the wintry evening. Silently, she prayed that in this moment, of all moments, he would feel what she felt.

And then she nearly laughed. How tense they were, like new lovers treading into undiscovered intimate spaces. In a way, they were.

And then she prayed some more, that he might see clearly, for once.
____________________________________________________

There was an unmistakeable venom in his voice that made her fingers itch to draw forth and let loose a rain of arrows upon the arrogant man that stood before her. The others showed remarkable restraint, however. She would not be the first to break the peace, though the tension hung heavy in the air.

The sounds of his voice receded, despite his lips moving.
… And her fingers continued to itch.
____________________________________________________

" I'd rather die than put you through something like that."
"Do not say such things."
"… But it's true."

The force behind his quiet words startled her, and she studied his profile in the twilight woods before he turned to face her. His eyes reflected the grey light that filtered through the trees, glittering dark and dangerous. Her heart wrenched at the depth of them.
____________________________________________________

"There are times I want him to show that he misses me, instead of taking for granted that I will go to him. Tis a slender hope."

Gently, she cleaned, then dressed his hand with a gossamer-like strip of translucent white cloth. He watched her, his eyes missing nothing, taking in everything. She didn’t have to ask.

"I could leave Cormyr... And I think it would affect him little."

In ten days, she would be gone. Gone from these unquiet lands. Gone to where the winds swept through a haunted valley of verdant green, nestled deep within the mountains. There, she would raise her arms to the unjudging skies. He would have never known, if she chose not to tell him, assuming her absence usual. Her lips quivered at the thought.

"If you try, I will kill you."

She hadn’t anticipated his reply, and so she wasn’t ready when he said them quietly and with a certainty that brooked no protest. Had she not been so surprised, she might have been more eloquent with her words. Instead, the words came out a mess. He treaded between them gently, as he always did, finally lifting his eyes to look deeply into hers.

"You are always afraid."