Thirty Days, Thirty Posts - Day 4: Interview with the Baelnorn Part 2
Continuing right where we left off. Strange spot, I know, but I sorta ran out of material. *winks*
A thought occurred to him. "Hey, do you still have the 'secret stash' down here?" Rhistel said.
Illad looked at him conspiratorially, "Of course I do. What, you think I drank the lot in such a short time?"
Rhistel laughed aloud. "I suspected that possibility, yes!" he remarked with a smile. He walked to the far side of the room and searched for a moment. After a moment, he nodded to himself, and pulled on a particular book. The bookshelf swung aside to reveal another small chamber.
"One moment, if you please," he said, as he walked into the small room. The light from the lamp in the main chamber flickered around the corners of this small hidden cache. Rhistel stepped over to a small cabinet in the far corner, knelt, and opened it. He glanced over the labels of the ancient bottles arrayed before him, before selecting one. He straightened, and took a pair of dusty goblets from the shelf above. As he wiped the dust from them with the tail of his tunic, he surveyed the small room. He, Karstan, and Illad had kept a moderate amount of liquor here, for occasions such as these.
Here also lay the truly forgotten treasures of House Moondown. Most of what was down here was remembered only by Illad. Several magical weapons of various size and construction hung on the walls or leaned into corners. A jeweled orb sat on a shelf, covered in dust. On a high shelf sat a massive emerald; an illusion, Rhistel knew. Illad was far too wise to keep his phylactery so out in the open.
Rhistel set the first goblet down and briefly ran his fingers over the hilts of his twinned blades. They had hung on these walls for several centuries, until Illad had gifted them to Rhistel. In the corner near the secret entrance lay a metal kite shield, deep blue, with the Moondown dragon in gilt silver in the center. Rhistel had left it here on the day Illad had bestowed Weal and Woe to him.
He flexed his left hand cautiously and felt a brief flash of pain. The self-inflicted wound had still not fully healed. He dusted off the second goblet quickly and gathered the bottle and goblets, as well as the shield.
"I had forgotten I had left this here," he said as the bookshelf slid back into place behind him. "I have need of it now, though."
He sat down the glasses and poured the well-matured elverquisst into the goblets. The two performed the short ritual of the fine elven wine, then both began to sip. The baelnorn, of course, had no need of drink -- or even air, for that matter! -- but he enjoyed a "nip of the bottle" on occasion, and would certainly suffer no intoxication from it. As the two drank their wine, the old conversation began again. Rhistel briefly recounted his recent exploits, until his story reached Silverymoon. He told briefly of their mission there, and of the ensuing battle against the Zhentarim force. Here, he paused for a long moment, using the time to refill the cups.
"I died there, old friend," Rhistel continued. "The Banite holy warrior overpowered me...and crushed in my skull."
Illad's crystal clear eyes widened, but he said nothing.
"I found myself on the Fugue Plane, and wandered there for...I know not how long. I saw many strange things there, but remember few, and can discern the meaning of even fewer still. I thought I saw my son there...but...I can barely recall." He shook his head. "Meanwhile, my companions had taken my body to the temple there, while Lord Sunbringer graciously gathered the materials necessary for the ancient rituals. Once my body and spirit were rejoined, I went straight away to the altar, and swore a blood oath to Shevarsh." His eyes darkened. "An oath I intend to keep."
The venerable lich was silent for a few more moments, his eyes holding Rhistel's in a steely gaze. "I see that you will," he said. "but I know you, Rhistel. You are not the headstrong fool that Rhauvir is, nor are you the tenderhearted boy that Karstan was. Be careful that you do not make your life on vengeance. You, I know, are a defender of the elven people, not a champion of petty reprisal. Do not focus your sight on retribution, for I fear you will lose sight of yourself. Now, my boy, tell me more of these companions of yours..."
Of course, the two talked for several more hours (and most of the old bottle) before Rhistel excused himself. I had originally written more to the end of this conversation, but it didn't really seem to serve any purpose, so I removed it.
A thought occurred to him. "Hey, do you still have the 'secret stash' down here?" Rhistel said.
Illad looked at him conspiratorially, "Of course I do. What, you think I drank the lot in such a short time?"
Rhistel laughed aloud. "I suspected that possibility, yes!" he remarked with a smile. He walked to the far side of the room and searched for a moment. After a moment, he nodded to himself, and pulled on a particular book. The bookshelf swung aside to reveal another small chamber.
"One moment, if you please," he said, as he walked into the small room. The light from the lamp in the main chamber flickered around the corners of this small hidden cache. Rhistel stepped over to a small cabinet in the far corner, knelt, and opened it. He glanced over the labels of the ancient bottles arrayed before him, before selecting one. He straightened, and took a pair of dusty goblets from the shelf above. As he wiped the dust from them with the tail of his tunic, he surveyed the small room. He, Karstan, and Illad had kept a moderate amount of liquor here, for occasions such as these.
Here also lay the truly forgotten treasures of House Moondown. Most of what was down here was remembered only by Illad. Several magical weapons of various size and construction hung on the walls or leaned into corners. A jeweled orb sat on a shelf, covered in dust. On a high shelf sat a massive emerald; an illusion, Rhistel knew. Illad was far too wise to keep his phylactery so out in the open.
Rhistel set the first goblet down and briefly ran his fingers over the hilts of his twinned blades. They had hung on these walls for several centuries, until Illad had gifted them to Rhistel. In the corner near the secret entrance lay a metal kite shield, deep blue, with the Moondown dragon in gilt silver in the center. Rhistel had left it here on the day Illad had bestowed Weal and Woe to him.
He flexed his left hand cautiously and felt a brief flash of pain. The self-inflicted wound had still not fully healed. He dusted off the second goblet quickly and gathered the bottle and goblets, as well as the shield.
"I had forgotten I had left this here," he said as the bookshelf slid back into place behind him. "I have need of it now, though."
He sat down the glasses and poured the well-matured elverquisst into the goblets. The two performed the short ritual of the fine elven wine, then both began to sip. The baelnorn, of course, had no need of drink -- or even air, for that matter! -- but he enjoyed a "nip of the bottle" on occasion, and would certainly suffer no intoxication from it. As the two drank their wine, the old conversation began again. Rhistel briefly recounted his recent exploits, until his story reached Silverymoon. He told briefly of their mission there, and of the ensuing battle against the Zhentarim force. Here, he paused for a long moment, using the time to refill the cups.
"I died there, old friend," Rhistel continued. "The Banite holy warrior overpowered me...and crushed in my skull."
Illad's crystal clear eyes widened, but he said nothing.
"I found myself on the Fugue Plane, and wandered there for...I know not how long. I saw many strange things there, but remember few, and can discern the meaning of even fewer still. I thought I saw my son there...but...I can barely recall." He shook his head. "Meanwhile, my companions had taken my body to the temple there, while Lord Sunbringer graciously gathered the materials necessary for the ancient rituals. Once my body and spirit were rejoined, I went straight away to the altar, and swore a blood oath to Shevarsh." His eyes darkened. "An oath I intend to keep."
The venerable lich was silent for a few more moments, his eyes holding Rhistel's in a steely gaze. "I see that you will," he said. "but I know you, Rhistel. You are not the headstrong fool that Rhauvir is, nor are you the tenderhearted boy that Karstan was. Be careful that you do not make your life on vengeance. You, I know, are a defender of the elven people, not a champion of petty reprisal. Do not focus your sight on retribution, for I fear you will lose sight of yourself. Now, my boy, tell me more of these companions of yours..."
Of course, the two talked for several more hours (and most of the old bottle) before Rhistel excused himself. I had originally written more to the end of this conversation, but it didn't really seem to serve any purpose, so I removed it.