10 – East or West

  The next morning, Elanil woke up refreshed and well-rested. The rays of the morning sun streamed cheerfully through the window, and the air was filled with freshness mingled with the promise of a warm, if not hot, day. The room was so serene that for a moment, Elanil wondered if the scenes she’d witnessed in the middle of the night were merely unpleasant nightmares, not omens. For the rest of the night, she had ordinary dreams, and upon awakening, she had no memory of them.

  “Good morning. Finally,” Nura’s voice rang out. Elanil lazily turned her head toward her. The orc was sitting on her made bed, already fully dressed. “Are you so special or it’s in the nature of Wood Elves? I thought your kind woke with the first rays of the sun to greet the dawn with the morning songbirds. Or something like that.”

  “Oh, get lost,” Elanil grumbled, luxuriating in her bed and gathering her courage to finally get up. “Can’t say a lot about my past, but I do know that I finally got some real rest yesterday.”

  “Your past must’ve been a real shit. If what happened to you yesterday is your best idea of ? rest,” Nura said thoughtfully. “And here I was thinking life was tough for us orcs.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Elanil agreed, gathering her hair into a ponytail.

  “Okay, what’s our plan for today?” Nura wondered. “To scout out what they have in this village and if there’s a blacksmith here? It was already pretty dark yesterday, and I was pretty hungry to pay attention to anything but the tavern. So now we’ll see just how small a settlement fate has deposited us in.”

  “Not fate—our feet, to be fair,” Elanil smiled. “Let’s begin with a breakfast.”

  “Good idea,” Nura nodded, slapping her palms on her knees and standing up. “Get your ass in order, I’ll be waiting for you downstairs in the dining room,” and she left the room.

  Elanil stood up and stretched. Something in her back cracked pleasantly, as if from relaxation after a long period of inactivity and stiffness. Fastening the clasps of her ranger’s robes, she walked up to the window, the floorboards creaking with her steps. She leant out and took a deep breath of the clean morning air, her nostrils tickling from the rush of air passing through them.

  From there, she could see several neighboring houses, spaced far enough apart to allow for a courtyard, each with its own barn and woodsheds, as well as a small farmstead: chickens, goats, and other small animals. At the same time, the houses were close enough together to be considered a village. Beyond lay patches of sparse forest, interspersed with fields, meadows, rivers, and lakes. Further away, in the blueish morning haze, the mountain ranges that actually surrounded the Valley of Ringing Streams were vaguely visible.

  “I wonder if anyone here has a map,” Elanil thought, diving back into the semidarkness of her room. Since her map wasn’t available, she had to do it the old-fashioned but reliable way—on paper. And she could also add missing place names and portals as she traveled.

  Coming downstairs, Elanil found Nura at the counter, chatting with the innkeeper. There were very few people in the morning; perhaps this place became especially crowded when, having finished the day’s chores, people from the nearby farms flocked here for a carefree soiree.

  “Do we have a blacksmith?” the innkeeper repeated the question Nura had apparently asked before Elanil appeared in the hall. The woman frowned, wiping a washed beer mug dry with a towel. “Hm, good question. Yes and no.” Seeing Elanil enter, she nodded affably, peered inside the dried vessel, and set it aside, moving on to the next one.

  “What do you mean, yes and no?” Nura asked, picking at her breakfast omelet with her fork.

  “Exactly what I mean,” the innkeeper shrugged. “We do have a blacksmith, his name is Asmund. But he’s been gone for two weeks now. He went to Ferny Ravine, supposedly on business, but he hasn’t returned since.”

  “Ferny Ravine?” Elanil joined the conversation, sitting down next to Nura at the counter, who pushed a plate toward her. It was also an omelet.

  “Here, I ordered one for you too,” she said. “With mushrooms, just the way you like it. The Wood Elves don’t have anything against omelets, do you?”

  “We don’t,” Elanil chuckled, taking a bite of the crispy toast that came with her breakfast.

  “Ferny Ravine is a village west of here,” the innkeeper answered her question. “I don’t know, maybe he’s got really a lot of work to do that he couldn’t finish in so long. Or maybe,” here she lowered her tone to a conspiratorial hush and leaned toward Nura and Elanil across the counter.

  Instinctively, they also moved a little closer, to hear what important and secret thing the innkeeper was about to share.

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  “Our Asmund is quite a philanderer. So maybe he’s stuck there for something other than blacksmithing. Or maybe the answer is simpler,” here her former hoarse but ringing voice returned again, “he also drinks like a fish. Sometimes, he stays in drinking bouts for weeks. So, who knows, maybe our blacksmith is lying somewhere under the fence near Crooked Betty’s pub, never having made it to Ferny Ravine. That’s why I say it’s as if we do and don’t have a blacksmith at the same time. These couple of weeks, when the need arises, we go to the blacksmith from Beechville. He might be not as gifted as Asmund, but he’s reliable and usually at his workplace. And it’s not that far from here, a couple of miles to the east along the forest.” She made a vague hand gesture.

  East was actually in the other direction, Elanil noted. “What’s the name of your village?” she asked.

  The innkeeper burst out laughing. “Village? You must be kidding. A couple of houses, and my inn by the road. It’s quite an exaggeration to call it a village. This place hasn’t yet deserved that proud honor. Everyone just calls it Rosemary’s.”

  “Ah, you’re Rosemary.” Only now did Elanil realize that she’d never asked the innkeeper’s name.

  “No, Rosemary is my grandmother. I inherited the inn. I’m Eleanor.”

  “Alright,” Nura said after a pause. “I guess we’ll have to visit Beechville too then. Is that a big village?”

  “Depends on what you consider big,” the innkeeper smiled, returning to polishing the plates dry.

  “Are there any merchants there, not just a blacksmith? An alchemist, for example?”

  “Oh, so you’re members of the Alchemists Guild?” the innkeeper exclaimed. “Didn’t know that, didn’t know.”

  “No, we’re not,” Elanil hastened to assure her.

  “We just need to sell something we got while hunting. We need merchants for that,” Nura added.

  “Is it what comes with the beetle meat you tried to sell me yesterday?” The innkeeper narrowed her eyes slyly. “You had a successful hunt, as I see. And you’re not affiliated with any of the guilds that deal with these things, as far as I can tell. Hunters, Heroes, Adventurers?”

  Elanil tensed—it seemed this woman had realized they were even more unusual guests than just an elf and an orc who’d dropped by for dinner and lodging for a night.

  “Listen, this isn’t my first day in this world. And I know that creatures that yield the loot, which can be carried to an alchemist, aren’t common in the forests of our valley—to say the least. But I know which forest it might be in.” She put the plate and towel aside and leaned one elbow on the counter. “A lot of people have passed through the doors of this tavern, very different people. So, I can tell apart different sorts of people.”

  “What are you getting at?” Elanil asked quietly and cautiously.

  “I don’t know what business brought you to our lands, and I don’t think I want to know. The less you know, the better you sleep, right? But I understand that you must be good at your job. I think asking you not to look for trouble would be rather naive—trouble has a way of finding us whether we want it or not. But I still want to ask you: be careful and... don’t bring trouble to our lands.” She paused before adding with a slight laugh, “I like our place’s status as a sleepy backwater, and I’d like it to remain that way.”

  “We have no intention of causing trouble,” Elanil countered.

  “I know,” the innkeeper nodded. “I see that you’re good girls. But I think an extra, unsolicited warning to be careful from a bit-older-than-you woman wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “How do you know we’re good?” Nura grinned.

  “I told you, I can tell people apart,” the innkeeper remarked cheerfully and returned again to drying the dishes. “By the way, there’s no alchemist in Beechville. But there is one right there in Ferny Ravine,” she said. “If you decide to visit it in the coming days, can I ask you for one favor?”

  “Depends on what kind of favor it is,” Nura noted.

  “Could you bring this lost lamb of ours, Asmund? Tethered or tied up, whatever you prefer. After all, it’s not convenient to trudge to the neighboring village for small matters. And Alma, his wife, would be less worried.”

  Elanil exchanged glances with Nura. “I think, we can,” she said.

  “Nice!” the innkeeper exclaimed.

  Next moment the quest card popped up.

  Quest: Prodigal blacksmith

  Status: Acquired

  Objective: Escort Asmund back to his wife safe and sober.

  Additional Information:

  According to innkeeper Eleanor, Asmund is to be found in the village Ferny Ravine.

  Reward:

  – XP

  – Gift(s)

  – You acquire a blacksmith near Rosemary’s inn with a discount (conditional)

  – The Valley of Ringing Springs’ reputation

  After they finished their breakfast and thanked the innkeeper for tasty food and shelter, they left the tavern, ready to hit the road. It was already quite warm, and the air was filled with the scent of hay and milfoil.

  “So, where are we going?” Nura asked. “East to Beechville, or west to Ferny Ravine?”

  “I’m not sure,” Elanil looked pensively from one direction to the other. “On the one hand, there’s an alchemist in Ferny Ravine, and we’ll probably find our blacksmith there too. On the other hand, Beechville is closer. And…”

  “You don’t want to dance to the innkeeper’s tune,” Nura nodded understandingly. “And go where she’d want you to go first.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it in so categorically,” Elanil muttered.

  “You don’t have to,” Nura nodded. “I’m a professional when we’re talking about categorical judgments. Let’s delegate responsibilities.”

  “So be it,” Elanil chuckled. “But overall, you’re right. I’d still like to get my bearings. Perhaps it’d be better to stop by Beechville first. Maybe we can find out something there, too.”

  “Great, let’s go then,” Nura pointed her axe to the east. “I hate standing still in uncertainty for long.”

  Elanil tightened her quiver strap, adjusted her bow and was about to follow Nura’s brisk pace when a strange chill ran through her, as if a sudden breeze had brought crisp freshness from the snowy mountain peaks. She glanced at the sky—there were a few clouds, but the sun shone bright and unobscured. She glanced around—there seemed to be nothing suspicious here; somewhere nearby, hens clucked and roosters crowed, and dragonflies darted nimbly through the air. But Elanil couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or even something, was watching her. She glanced south, where the forest thickened and climbing a long, gentle slope, emerged onto a plateau and was devoured by the Sylvan Reserve’s wilds.

  “We must stay on guard,” she thought.