Hollow

Chapter 6: Rumors

It took far longer to find the front door of the keep than Llwell cares to admit, but he was too afraid to ask anyone for directions so he mostly just wandered aimlessly until he happened to stumble upon the front of the building.

The keep is massive, far greater than any ancient ruins he would see in The Living Forest, save for one ruin in particular. Towering stone walls, flickering torch sconces casting dim lights, bouncing shadows throughout the halls. He wonders if this place really is as big as it seems, or if it only feels that way because of how alone he is here. As far as he can tell, he's the only elf in the Restoration.

He pushes the lumbering set of doors open and immediately breathes in deeply as his face is hit with a wave of cold mountain air. White powdery banks line the cobblestone paths through the stronghold settlement. Flakes of ice gently fall around him, landing on his head and shoulders.

He actually smiles as he steps out of the keep and into the winter air. The settlement is made up from wood and stone buildings, taverns and shops, and even though he can't see it, he can hear someone hammering on an anvil which even he is able to identify as the telltale sign of a blacksmith.

He closes the doors behind him before slowly starting to venture forward. Dumaine said before he left that Llwell should stop by the stable, so that's his first objective. It shouldn't be too hard since he has been trained to be attuned to animals.

Following his instinctive senses, he makes his way down the winding roads. He's somewhat dazed, still reveling in the feeling of snow hitting his nose and ears, but he can still tell that he's getting strange looks from the townsfolk as he passes by. There are some hushed whispers from the onlookers, but he ignores them and just keeps walking until he reaches the stable.

It's just off from the town square, across the road from the tavern where he assumes Dumaine is at the moment. That is if he didn't take too long by getting lost in the keep like an idiot.

The moment Llwell's eyes land on the peryton standing in the stable, he gasps and sprints over. "Gwyn!" he chuckles absently and brushes his hand over her snout. "How did you get here, girl?" he asks and the peryton snorts in his face.

"Feathers ripping, flesh torn and bloody, broken, beaten and bruised, left to die. A young fawn, found fallen angel, wings torn, the red knights stripping nature of its beauty. Leaving pain, parting promises broken for power. Greed. Why? Why must cruelty be the result of not understanding?" comes the voice of Etho.

Llwell peeks around the side of Gwynnestri to see the boy on her other side, sitting with his legs crossed atop a haybale, running his hand gently over her side and hovering over the healed lumps of scarred flesh on her back. It always makes him uneasy when other people touch Gwyn, but he can see in her eyes that the pain is easing. The boy is soothing her, just like he did with his wound from the bolt.

"Did you bring her here?" Llwell asks.

Etho shakily looks away from the peryton and over at him, lowering his hand from the majestic beast's back to hold them in his lap, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves that look so tattered around the end that it's safe to assume that's a common habit of his. "Scared, lost, lonely, afraid in the forest. 'Where did he go?' Stronger was the bond than the chains of the prison. She found me. She led me to Aeliphor. To you. She made her way back to you. Like Guardian Ildilyntra's cloak," he points at Llwell's cloak.

The elf grabs it and cocks a brow at the boy. "So... You're the one who found it and brought it back to me?"

Etho stiffly nods and he vanishes with a puff of black and lavender mist and instantly reappears in front of the stable, the falling snow lands on the wide brim of his straw hat. He keeps his head down, but he follows the trails of people who walk by them. They all try to avert their gazes or steer clear entirely.