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Tinuviel and her companions had found the safe haven of Last Light–a beacon of hope swathed in silver moonlight two days prior. But upon exploring the Shadow-Cursed Lands and unearthing the secrets that it held to bring down Ketheric Thorm, they decided to pick out a spot and camp out for the night. The companions were too drained and exhausted to make it back to the inn, and a piece of Tinuviel was happy for it. The druid had long preferred to spend her nights in the open air.
The druid laid on her back by the crackling fire and tried to make out the constellations in the inky night. Tinuviel could remember nights giggling with her father, Bjorn, as he sat beside her pointing out different star systems and telling her the stories of their origins. She couldn’t make them out through the thick gray haze, and she squinted to try to get a better look. If there were stars above her, she couldn’t see them–not even the Young Strider, a star said to be the brightest in the night sky and a nod to her god, Silvanus. Tinuviel instinctively frowned and rose from her bed roll with a soft sigh. She knew that a brisk walk would set her right–even if her legs felt nearly too weak to stand on. Tinuviel had a veil of Selûne’s light draped over her–a gift from Isobel. And she always had a trusty dagger. Or two. I’d like to see who fucks with me, she thought to herself as she swept her long scarlet hair to one shoulder.
Tinuvel crept softly so as to not wake the others. She wouldn’t be gone long. The druid just needed to steal away for a moment to ease the peculiar heaviness that sat on her chest. Tinuviel unsheathed one of her daggers as a precaution and walked a few paces eastward. She could scarcely see ten feet in front of her, but it was enough to navigate nonetheless. Years spent learning from her father blessed her with expertly trained eyes and ears that could track movement from a few leagues away.
Her turquoise eyes scanned the environment around her, and the creases in her face deepened. Oak Father be good, these trees are no more than emaciated husks. The druid had noted them before, but the stark contrast from the lush greenery she was used to touched her differently now. She continued walking and her ears twitched as they picked up calls of the wild in the distance. Perhaps a crow, she thought, but the creature’s caw was acutely sharper.
The whites of Tinuviel’s eyes widened as she spotted a patch of oleander. She grinned to herself and crouched down to pluck some of it. “Hello, you,” Tinuviel whispered as she placed it into a moss green velvet bag. “I’m sure I’ll find a use for you later.” As she braced her sore legs to rise again, she saw a flower that appeared something akin to a night orchid. The nomadic druid had travelled far and wide, and yet, she’d never seen something quite like it. The corners of her lips tugged as she reached down to pluck it too. Tinuviel tucked her hair over one of her pointed ears before gently separating the plant from the dirt. As she went to put the flower in her hair, the flower wilted and disintegrated, amounting to nothing more than ash that fell softly to the dark ground like snow.
The heaviness in her chest seemed to pulse. “Gods,” she breathed. Tinuviel clicked her tongue and rose anyway. She’d hoped to put the flower in her hair or maybe even make a flower crown if she had enough. You’ll find another one. Nature’s boundless that way.
Tinuviel stayed the path and walked onward. Her bare feet padded softly against the earth. Save for the occasional unnatural screech or caw, the night was relatively quiet like the sound had been sucked up into some vacuum. “What the fuck?” she murmured as she felt herself step on something. The druid moved her foot slowly and saw a crow. Cobalt smoke seemed to waft off of its corpse, and Tinuviel grimaced as its unnatural stench hit her nose. She’d come across plenty of dead animals, but this was not simply the smell of death. It was pungent and acrid and utterly foul. Her lashes fluttered as she swallowed a dry lump in her throat. Although the druid knew death to be tragic, she was often able to find the beauty in it. It was merely the end of a life cycle. And on and on it went. But this felt nothing like that. Still, Tinuviel squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them, steeling herself to continue onward.
Tinuviel rubbed the chill from her arm and wordlessly mouthed a song her mother used to sing to her as a child. A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna míriel, o menel aglar elenath. It had been a long time since she’d seen her mother, and while sometimes she almost forgot what she looked like, Tinuviel would never forget what she sounded like as long as she would live. The words acted as a lulling tonic just as they always had.
The reprieve was short as her mind reminded her of the burden that was placed upon her and her companions’ shoulders. It was a tall ask, but Tinuviel hadn’t wavered once from it. She’d survived horrors before, and she’d survive horrors again. But as the pulsing anxiety turned to a hammering, the druid finally balked to the idea that perhaps her survival wasn’t guaranteed. Her red head moved on a swivel, suddenly feeling exposed like the darkness had thousands of eyes, watching her from every angle.
In a flash of feathers, Tinuviel took to the skies as a sparrow. Her taupe wings flapped as she ascended, and she was met with an unnatural resistance. What in the Nine Hells? It feels like I’m slogging through molasses! Tinuviel flapped her wings harder to compensate for the thick atmosphere. The druid’s senses grew keener still as she adjusted to her animalistic form, and she peered down below her from her bird’s eye view. What she saw from above only further confirmed what she’d seen on her walk–rot, ruin, death. So much death.
The hammering turned urgent as if her heart was demanding to be let out of her chest. Tinuviel began to swerve through the sky as she got swept in the undercurrent below her. The druid dipped down like she often did when she was taking a nosedive, but this time, it wasn’t intentional. She was losing control mid-flight. Faster, Tinny, Faster! She encouraged herself as her wings beat against the air. Tinuviel’s beaded bird eyes widened as she continued to sink despite her efforts. She watched as the ground seemed to rise to meet her. Only it wasn’t rising; she was falling.
The percussion thundered in her ears now, overwhelming her system. And for a moment, Tinuviel stopped flapping her wings. She noticed the way the great trees splintered and how what little grass remained on the ground was a charcoal grey. The whole of the lands looked as if it’d been scorched by some gigantic wildfire. Only Tinuviel knew the truth; it had been gobbled up by the darkness. The whole of Reithwin and its outskirts was cursed to live in its belly, slowly decomposing in its stomach acid.
Tinuviel was tailspinning now, the road below her puckering its lips to caress her upon impact. She neared closer and closer still. COME ON! Her inner voice seemed to say. Do something, Tinny! At the last moment Tinuviel adjusted her wings as they glided just inches above the ground. Instead of splatting, she was able to maneuver upwards again. The sparrow whistled a series of triumphant tweets. You’re not the first to try to kill me, darkness.
Once she made her victory call and gained her composure in the sky, that same insidious feeling rooted in her chest. She’d never known a feeling so nuisant and desperate to be felt. Tinuviel had maintained an unshakable optimism throughout her long life that was only magnified by her determination to see things through, even in the face of her darkest hours. You’ve always been the type to rage against the dying light, Tinny. Her chest ached again–once and hard–as if to tell her, “The light isn’t dying. It’s gone.”
The realization made tears prick in her small eyes. No. No. Don’t cry. You’re better than this. In a smooth and stunning U-turn, Tinuviel swung herself around like a boomerang so as to return back to camp. Her night of attempting to soothe herself had turned into one giant failure. Even being in wildshape, something that was as second nature to her as breathing, couldn't ease her. It normally was her cure-all to feel the air stream through her feathers as she soared into wide open majesty. But even it felt wrong here.
Despite her flying mishap earlier, she’d returned to camp without any further problems. Tinuviel tiptoed over to her bedroll and relished the sight of it. Out of energy and options, she hoped against hope that she would feel like herself in the morning. You just need some rest, that’s all. Tinuviel felt like she was lying to herself; it was so much more than that, but the fight had evaporated through her mossy colored and freckled skin.
Tinuviel heaved a quiet sigh and began lowering herself to the ground. Before she could, however, a force tugged her back up.
“Come with me,” the voice hissed. Tinuviel knew the voice well and didn’t protest being brought aside. Once they were out of earshot, her arm was relinquished. “Just where have you been, Tinny?”
Tinuviel raised her dipped chin to look at him. If she didn’t feel so out of sorts, she would’ve mused how incandescently his beauty burned under the moonlight or how although his voice was pointed, there was a caringness underlying it. But instead, as soon as she saw his face, tears began streaming down her face. It was instantaneous and instinctual as if Tinuviel hadn’t felt safe enough to come undone until in the safety of Astarion’s presence.
A flush of heat stained her cheeks scarlet, and she began stammering, “S-sorry.” Tinuviel went to scramble away, but Astarion caught her in his snares again–his arm pulling her back.
“What’s happened? Are you hurt?” His crimson eyes were wide. Fearful.
“No,” she sniffled and turned away, trying to hide her face from him. Tinuviel cleared her throat as the tears continued to fall down her face. She tried to swipe them away casually.
Astarion grabbed her chin between his pointer finger and thumb, forcing her to look at him. “What then?” he asked in a whisper.
Tinuviel chewed at her lip and shuddered. “It’s this…fucking place!” she hissed an exhale. “I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I don’t even feel Silvanus.” The last sentence surprised her when they tumbled from her lips. It was the entirety of what she was feeling summed up into a crudely short observation. There had never been a time Tinuviel hadn’t felt her god’s touch upon her skin. It was as soft and light as spider silk on skin, gentle as a whisper, eternal as a vow, and as boundless as the wilderness. It wasn’t a presence she felt in her chest, but rather an absence–like energy being siphoned from her. “I can’t, Astarion,” she whispered. Another truthful revelation. “How am I to go on? Like this? Here?” Tinuviel looked around them, the barren environment unchanging. The druid often found solace in nature, but this was something else entirely.
Astarion studied her for a long moment, his plush lips pursing in contemplation. His thumb moved to swipe away another rogue tear. Such a simple, genuine act had Tinuviel leaning her cheek against his hand. “You have to because I need you,” Astarion replied. His silver brows furrowed as his face contorted with some sort of discomfort. “We need you.”
Tinuviel blinked. It was as if Astarion were experiencing a revelation of his own. A warm shiver ran down her spine. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know how,” Tinuviel said, loosing another admission from her hollowed chest.
Astarion licked his lips and gave her a soft, playful smile. “And you think Gale or Shadowheart do? Please, darling, none of us do.” Tinuviel chuckled despite herself and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could, the vampire spawn continued on. “Look, I know I don’t know anything about Silvanus or being a druid, but…I do know you. You laugh in the face of uncertain odds and stab it with those daggers of yours. Just because you’re having a moment of doubt doesn’t make you any less capable, Tinny.” Astarion shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think that there’s anything that could.”
Tinuviel’s cheeks balled into a smile. She and Astarion began together as a tangling of limbs, but as time went on, it became a tangling of emotions too. Each day they grew closer and learned more about the other. The druid had been there for the vampire spawn time and time again, but Tinuviel was finding, especially now, that Astarion caught her in a trust fall all her own. Astarion not only was there for her, but saw her when the darkness shrouded her from herself. Tinuviel could feel the tangling emotions becoming unknotted as Astarion looked at her with such absolute surety like she was the sunrise that was bound to peak over the horizon.
Astarion’s hand moved from her cheek, but he gave her a reassuring shoulder squeeze before letting his hand trail down her arm, his fingers caressing the skin beneath. His hand passed over the top of hers before returning at his side. “Come now, don’t be rude, Tinny,” Astarion replied with a grin, his fangs peeking past his lips. “This is the part where you return the favor and tell me how great I am.”
Tinuviel laughed a belly laugh, the joy of it slowly filling the aching hollowness. She wagged her finger in his face. “No way, we’re talking about me right now.”
Astarion playfully clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and rolled his eyes. “You druids and your need for praise. Fine, what else do you need to hear?”
“Well…” Tinuviel began as she tapped a slender finger to her chin. “You could just admit that I’m much better with a bow and arrow than you are and call it a day.”
“And have me lie to you?” Astarion scoffed. “Or you could have me tell you true things like you’re beautiful or have a wonderful singing voice.”
Tinuviel cracked a smile and gave Astarion a nudge in the ribs. “While those things are indeed true, I think you’re lying to yourself about the matter of the bow and arrow.”
Astarion let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m not quite sure what time it is on account of us being in a constant state of perpetual and foul darkness, but I imagine there’s enough time for us to do some target practice to see who prevails as victor.” He held out his hand to her. “And once I win, dear Tinny, we can lay this matter to rest once and for all.”
Tinuviel shook her head, her fiery hair tousling with the movement as she took his hand in hers. “You’re on.”
As she walked with Astarion, Tinuviel seemed to glide. He had the uncanny ability of making her feel lighter, even in a place such as this. While she didn’t know with absolute surety that he felt the same as her, she had an inkling that he did, for it radiated through the very way he regarded and interacted with her. Tinuviel decided that she didn’t have to know for sure yet, just as she decided that she didn’t need to know if she was going to survive or not. All she knew was that her heart yearned for Astarion from the depths of her soul and that she was going to fight like the Hells to see it through. Of that, she was certain. Right then, standing with Astarion in the early morning hours under the veiled protection of Last Light Inn was enough for her. He was her star, helping her wade through the shadows and bringing her home to herself.