Chapter Text
Was she doing the right thing? She kept telling herself that she was, pushing down the doubt again and again. It was her right to leave. She wasn't abandoning anyone. They couldn't keep her there.
Aesling turned the skewered rabbit meat, her stomach growling. Stopping to hunt had been dangerous. Lighting a fire had been dangerous. But her rations had run out and going on without would be more dangerous.
She closed her eyes and held her breath against the smoke that shifted to blow directly into her face, the hot air thick but nice. That was when she heard a snap.
In the woods behind her, someone or something had just broken a twig.
She shifted away from the smoke, and brought her hand to rest on the hilt of her sword. She tried to stifle a cough, and then realized there was no point. With the light of her cooking fire, anything close by knew where she was.
There were some more snaps. Whatever was out there was coming towards her.
Silently, soft shoes carefully shifting across the ground, she faced the dark woods. Blinking the firelight from her eyes, she waited, and listened.
Whatever it was got closer. It wasn't large, no bigger than a human, and walked on two legs. But she had heard tales about what lived on this side of the mountains. That meant nothing.
Aesling unsheathed her sword.
In the darkness, someone cleared their throat to speak.
Before she realized what she was doing, she lunged at the source of the noise. She tripped over an unseen root, and tackled the stranger. They both hit the ground. The stranger scrambled to get out from under her, but her training was coursing through her. She pushed them down and picked her sword back up. The stranger tried to run get up to run, but she grabbed their cloak and pulled them backwards. She moved, getting on top of them, and held her sword pointed at their neck.
The stranger said something in a language that almost sounded like Quenya. Something vaguely reassuring, with their empty hands limp and visible. Ashe focused her ear, but the words were too different.
"Ah," Aesling said, feeling taken aback. But she hardened herself. No weakness. "Why were you approaching my fire?" She said carefully, her Quenya rough and half-known.
"Quenya, huh," the stranger said softly to themself, as if taken off guard. "Because I wanted some company," they answered, Quenya coming as smoothly off their tongue as the other language. "The only other things that are out here are gangs of orcs and a bunch of crazy humans that seem to be chasing somebody. You seemed the safest." They swallowed nervously, aware of the blade. "I really mean you no harm and I'm sorry for coming over to your fire I'll go away and I won't bother you."
Aesling furrowed her brow, having only understood half of that. She pulled her sword away and sheathed it, and the stranger took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wish I had seen you meant no harm before having attacked." She winced at the poor quality of her words.
"Oh," the stranger said, noticing it as well. "What's your native tongue?"
"Lossoth," Aesling answered after a moment of struggling to remember what the language was called in Quenya.
"Can't say that I know that one," the stranger sighed.
"You may join me," Aesling said, helping the stranger to their feet. They were taller than her, but their frame was surprisingly light. They should've been shivering, given how light their cloak was, but their hand was warm.
"The humans you saw, how far away were they?" She asked, walking back to the fire.
"Just on the other side of that hill," they gestured behind them. "Why do you–oh," they realized something. "Are you the person they're chasing?"
"Yes. I do not wish to–" Aesling gasped as they stepped into the small ring of firelight and she saw the stranger for the first time.
She had assumed they were an elf, given their language, but her eyes went straight to the pair of small red pointed horns that grew from the stranger's forehead that proved her assumption wrong.
She stumbled backwards in her haste to get away, her nerves singing once more.
"Woah woah woah," the stranger put their hands up. "What's wrong?"
"You have horns," she said afraid. Had she been tricked? "What are you?"
"Your eyes glow," the stranger answered casually. "What are you?"
Aesling froze, unsure of how to answer. Something about this person put her on edge, but that was probably just the distrust of strangers that had been drilled into her, one of the things she was trying to run from. But that wasn't the main problem with answering their question.
"I'm a human."
The stranger blinked, raising their eyebrows. "Really?" They said, surprised.
"Yes, I," she felt heat rise to her face, pinpricks in the corner of her eyes threatened to blur her vision. Not a good time for tears, but she was too tired for this. "I don't know," she said slowly, unhappy to admit it.
"And I'm not rightly sure about myself either," the stranger said. This did not seem to bother them.
Aesling forced herself to relax. That was comforting, to not be the only unknown out there. "My name is Aesling," she said. "She/her pronouns."
Wait, adrenaline suddenly rushed her again. What would they say to that? The people of Meathe had taken so long to understand. She knew nothing of the outside world. Nothing beyond biased and cruel little stories! But which ones had truth? She she have let them assumed wrong? Would that have been safer? Better?
"And I'm Markus Velafi," they stretched their hand towards her. "He/him pronouns," he added as an afterthought. "May I call you Ashe?"
"Do so," she nodded, relieved. Unsure of what to do with the hand, she turned back to the fire, checking on the rabbit again.
Whatever Ashe was, Markus observed, she looked like shit. Her hair, which he hazard to guess was as white as snow, was matted and the color of exceedingly trampled snow. Not that he'd ever seen snow trampled enough, but he had an excellent imagination. Even beneath her thick fur coat, she shivered next to her small fire. Her hands were cracked from the cold, her knuckles scabbed from fights, and her fingers thin. Her eyes, illuminating the dark circles underneath them, focused on the rabbit.
Her skin was dark like the Easterlings of this area, but her face shape was completely different. Her clothing too, well made but worn, was unfamiliar. Markus realized that not only did he not speak Lossoth, he didn't even know where it was that people spoke Lossoth. But all of that could be learned in time. There were more pressing matters.
"Hey," he said. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"
Ashe started, as if she had forgotten he was there. "I'm fine."
Okay so this lady was clearly bullheaded, and he had horns. "Let me rephrase that. I can help you. Look," he leaned towards her. "I don't know what's going on, but I do know that things don't seem right. There's a lot of people chasing you, and they must have been doing it for a while, given that the nearest village is weeks away."
"Eight days," Ashe interrupted him. "Nearest village is eight days."
Markus blinked. Huh, he went over his knowledge of geography, and then realized that she didn't look much like the people from around this parts. "Did you come over the mountains?" He asked slowly, not quite able to believe it.
Ashe nodded.
He raise his eyebrows, revising his opinion of her. "You lived by the Helcaraxë? Sorry, not important. So you've been running for eight days, over rough terrain. And if you'll pardon me, you look like you're wearing thin and your pursuers are right on your tail."
She glared at him.
Markus continued, "I've learned much from the elves in my time; I could help you through these woods tomorrow in such a way that we would leave no trail to follow." He smiled encouragingly. Technically, neither of his statements were lies.
He watched as Ashe's face, which had previously been closed to him, changed as she slowly worked through the meaning of his words. "You can help me leave no trail?" She said, hardly believing it.
"Of course," Markus said. "It's just a little woodcraft, some magic." He paused, recalling that this type of magic was not his area of expertise. "I'm gonna need some time to prepare it. I'll take second watch?"
Ashe glared at him. She probably wasn't going to sleep at all. In fact, he realized, he was asking a lot of her. She was risking a lot to trust some stranger who just stumbled out of the woods and insisted on helping her.
And, as he settled down to sleep, he realized he was risking a lot too. There was nothing to stop her from slitting his throat and taking all of his stuff, except the escape he promised her. Perhaps, he reflected drowsily, his body slowing as he told it to sleep, he would need to be more careful the next night. But Ashe seemed nice. He preferred to be a trusting fool than a safe hermit, after all.