It hadn't taken Almandar long to find her. If you asked those who liked their music, and knew the local entertainers, she was distinctive enough that it really took very little effort indeed to learn where she was performing tonight. He was lucky that she had been in the city at all, of course, because she often travelled elsewhere, as bards were wont to, but once he knew that she was, it had been easy enough to find the right tavern.
He heard her even before he entered the room, her clear voice floating out onto the street. The patrons were quiet, enraptured; there was no hubbub of conversation while she performed. And there she was, as he walked in to stand at the back, near the bar. A flicker of recognition, of surprise, crossed her face, but it was momentary, and her performance did not halter for a second. It was unlikely anyone else would even have noticed, such was her professionalism.
He hadn't seen her for years, for all that they had so much in common. In a way, perhaps, he had more in common with Yarai than anyone else in the city, yet he had been avoiding her. He wasn't sure how she would react to seeing him now, after all this time, and the brief flicker across her face as he had walked in was not enough to give him a clue. Perhaps she would be the one who would avoid him. He hoped not, because that would make things awkward... well, more awkward than they were going to be anyway.
He should have sought her out before, really. But instead, he had taken the obvious course, looking for records in the College library, trying to find some explanation for what had happened in the distant past, and for why it might be happening again now. Yarai knew all the old legends; she would have made an excellent source. But he had pushed the possibility to the back of his mind, putting off the inevitable encounter.
And, in the end, of course, it hadn't worked, because here he was. With a woman with whom he shared one unique bond, at least so far as the city of Haredil was concerned.
She was playing the lute as she sang, slender fingers dancing over the strings, the instrument complementing the almost unnatural clarity of her voice, still fresh and beautiful after all these years. She didn't look a day older... but then, she wouldn't. Fair hair tumbled about her face in ringlets, blue-grey eyes glittering in the lamp light. She wasn't looking at him, not since that first glance, but every other eye in the tavern was focussed on her, his own included.
She wore a long-sleeved white blouse under a blue, sleeveless jerkin, trimmed in silver, and dark, tight fitting, leggings that emphasised, rather than concealed, the shape of her long legs. Her black boots were high, almost knee-length, folded over at the top to reveal a paler lining -- they looked decorative, but, if you looked closely you could see the tough soles that made them so practical for a life on the road.
She wore long ear-rings, he noticed, each one a golden filigree in the shape of a butterfly's wings, with a tiny blue sapphire in the centre. They drew his eyes upward, to the curving points of her ears, prominent against her rich golden curls.
For Yarai was a half-elf.
There were few elves in the city. The dwarves and gnomes were numerous enough to have their own quarters, a few streets where they could live in a home away from home, surrounded by others of their kind. But elves had never been that plentiful, not here in Haredil. It was perhaps the local environment, too dry for forests, semi-arid scrubland the most you could find away from irrigated farmland or city parks, neither of which held the natural allure which elves liked. Which wasn't to say that there weren't elves, of course. There were always a few, such as Calleslyn, many of them passing through, and a few with reason to stay here for longer. But there were never many, which was why their culture seemed so mysterious to many of the humans here. And where there were few elves, and fewer still that were not transients, there were, of course, even fewer half-elves.
Apart from himself, Yarai was the only half-elf he knew that had been born in Haredil, and that had always given them something of a shared perspective. He had met others, of course, on rare occasions, passing through from elsewhere, but in Haredil itself... there was only her. Her story was much the same as his, in that respect -- an elven man, passing through, who had had a brief liaison with a human woman before leaving for who knew where. He was probably out there still, as his own father must be, perhaps living a care free life without ever worrying what had happened to his child. Elves, sometimes, could be flighty.
She finished the song, to a round of enthusiastic applause -- in which, of course, Almandar joined. He was deciding how best to approach her when he realised there was no need; she had hooked her lute over her shoulder, and was heading straight for him, taking plaudits from the crowd as she did so. He hurriedly ordered a goblet of wine from the barman, and it arrived just as she pulled up a stool next to him.
He passed it over, and she took it, rather grudgingly, he thought.
"It's been a few years," said Yarai, looking at him sideways, not meeting his direct gaze. Her voice, even when speaking normally, was still musical, a gift from her elven heritage that he did not quite share.
"You've been out of the city, so have I... I guess we just didn't meet up."
"Right..." she said, with a tone that said she didn't believe a word of it, "For all those years... yeah, that would explain it."
"We've been both been busy. It's not that I didn't want..."
"Please, spare me," she said, still looking ahead, "I'm not that foolish."
"No, you're not."
"Love 'em and leave 'em," she said, "I can tell which side of the family you got that from."
"Sorry... I should have..." he wasn't sure what to say. This, after all, had been why he had been avoiding her. He hadn't wanted this conversation.
"And it never occurred to you," said the bard, suddenly turning to face him properly, "that I might be the same as you? It's half of my family, too."
He was silent this time, uncomfortable, and feeling that anything he said might only make things worse.
"Still," she said eventually, "you're back now. I'm glad you changed your mind." Her face, on the verge of a smile, suddenly went hard as she saw his expression. She turned away again, pointedly not looking at him. "Aw, crap. You want something don't you? That's what this is about. You didn't want to see me. You need a favour, so you decided to turn up out of the blue after a few years of avoiding me. You've got some nerve."
"Look... sorry, it's really important, and if I could turn anywhere else..."
"You'd still be ignoring me," she said, turning back to face him again, delicate eyebrows set in a frown, "yes, I'm getting that message."
"That's not what I meant."
"Sounds like you did."
"You're making this difficult."
"That's the idea, yes."
He drew breath, steadying himself rather than replying straight away. Then he tried another tactic. "Look, you're the best bard I know, I just want to use that skill. It's nothing you wouldn't do anyway. I'll pay you, if you really want."
She actually laughed at that, a brief tinkling like musical notes. "What makes you think I'd want your money?"
"Well, whatever. Forget the money. I need a legend, and who better to go to? Reciting stories, it's part of what you do, Perhaps I can give you some in return... I'm an adventurer, I have tales to tell."
Yarai looked at him appraisingly, the slender fingers of one hand tapping on the bar top beside her. "This really is important to you, isn't it? What legend?" She sounded curious now.
"All I have is a name, or perhaps a word: Throndar. Do you know what that means?"
"Wow..." she said, breathing out, "the legend of Throndar. That's an old one, and not one I've told in a long time. What do you want that for?"
"But you remember it?" he said, ignoring the question.
"Of course, I remember it," she said, looking slightly offended, "I'm a bard, remember? Now why do you want to hear it?"
"I can't tell you. Not yet, anyway."
"You don't trust me."
"It's not that, it's... it's complicated."
Yarai's blue-grey eyes widened. "It's back, isn't it?"
"Is what back?"
"Why else would you want to know a legend that old?"
