The Triad
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Alalla looks up to see Erevain's extended hand, the smile on his lips perfectly complementing his green eyes. "It would be a shame to miss out on this chance to dance with my wife."
When Erevain offers her his hand, she looks up at him with concern. He does enjoy a chance to relax, but he really shouldn't be as comfortable with this as he is. She takes his hand and reaches out and yanks Zenithral over by the back plate of his armour.
"Erevain, Zenithral, in Targos people would tell stories about people going to fey parties and dancing for years before they've noticed time had passed at all. Most people thought they were as dramatic as the ones about orcs priests making gloves out of human hands, but those ones are true! She looks around at the party, all enjoying themselves thoroughly, feeling half-insane.
"I...hadn't heard those stories," Zenithral admits, suddenly deeply disturbed. He glances to Halla. "But that makes two concerned about being trapped in eternal bliss." He puts a finger to his chin and raises an eyebrow, ponderously. "Arannis taught me about an arcane archer technique that could beguile a foe, while hitting it with arrow no less."
He looks longingly over at the Aribeth, Fenthick, and the dancing eladrin, then thinks back to Kuldihar, Targos, Bryn Shander, and rest of the Icewind Dale. He turns back to Alalla.
"You're right. We were sent here to complete a mission, and we've had enough time off. The meal should suffice, and dancing can wait." he glances around, starting to appreciate that Alalla's extreme caution hadn't dwindled over the years. "I fancy not finding this is to really be an arrow to the heart."
"Gather Aribeth and Fenthick," Zenithral tells Halla and Erevain. "Alalla, let's find that Ilvisar, and see whether our host has finished rummaging through his sock drawer."
He blinks and shakes his head as she and Zenithral speak. By the end of their conversation, he seems to have seen reason. "Very well, but you owe me a dance, sharukh." He turns to make his way toward Aribeth and Fenthick.
"Yes...archery course, of course! Wait, no...well, we need to---Corellon!" the archer babbles. "What's the draw weight---I mean...! Where is he?"
"I must try that b---no, I mean, save me!" Zenithral pleads to Fluphy as he finds his hand drawn to the glorious weapon.
"I have a tribe and a baby waiting for me at home. If this quest keeps me away for years, so be it, but when Aiwë asks why I was gone so long my answer had better not be because her uncle wanted to show off!"
He closes his eyes and clears his throat, collecting himself. "Quite right," he says softly, both grateful and ashamed she had to intervene.
He turns way from Ilvisar and the grand, glorious, perfect---Zenithral shoves down further thoughts about the bow.
"Corellon?" Zenithral asks to thin air. Surely the god would be watching them. "We thank you for the meal, but are quite ready to leave. Have you the fork?"
The flumph floats over and places a tendril on the half-elf's head, causing memories of his conversation in Trueheart return in full vibrancy.
"...Quite right, Ilvisar," he says, looking over his shoulder at the eladrin, "but so is our mission. If I took every chance of a lifetime, there wouldn't be much lifetime left for a half-elf such as I." He waves his hands dismissively a few times. "It's probably light as a feather, strong as an ox, and true as a lion, or something poetic like that, but I'll survive..."
With Corellon's sudden reappearance and Alalla distracted, he turns back and whispers. "Unless you'll let me try it right here! Are there any more slaadi in sight...?"
Fluphy's glaring eyestalks poke down from above, directly in front of Zenithral's own. and got the distinct mental impression that he'd have a horrendous mouthful of putrid flumph-spray if he so much as touched the godly bow.
"No?" he suddenly answers for the eladrin. "What a shame..."
"Aiwë is only a few months old. That's such a kind offer, my lord, but I'd much prefer to see her myself when I'm finished this quest. Do you have the key?" Al's voice is tinged with desperation.