Catch of the Day (part two)
Poke. Poke. Gradually awareness returned to the prone figure. The first thing he noticed was the feel of finished wood underneath him. Despite the support of this…floor? the world around him swayed steadily, almost rocking. A shiver went through him emphasizing the sudden realization that he was cold and drenched, a harsh wind driving across his body.
Wha-? came the befuddled thought slowly creeping into his mind. Why’m I on a wet floor and- poke. "-and why am I being poked?" The high elf realized he’d spoken aloud when he was answered by the booming voice of a man.
"Ta see if ye’d come ‘round or if’ we should be throwin’ ye back ta th’ fishes matey" came the answer. Pale blue eyes popped open in surprise and the bedraggled elf sat up with a gasp. As he struggled to his feet, bare he suddenly realized, he was picked up by the back of tatters that might have once been a shirt. He was gently set back on his feet before he could begin to struggle. Looking down at the elf was the concerned face of a gray, tiger-striped kerran tom.
"You are alright?" the feline rumbled. The young looking koada’dal opened his mouth but was cut off by the first voice.
"Ye a bit together then?" The soaked high elf nodded hesitantly and the stout white-haired human before him gave a wide grin of uneven teeth. "Yer a fair bit drenched, but better wet than at th’ bottom o’ Prexus’s water, aye? So, who might ye be, laddie? Yer remembering yer own name I hope!" The man laughed heartily, his bristling mustache catching and holding a few drops of spittle. The dripping elf started to shake his head then paused, eyes widening.
"Taureth…?" he said uncertainly. "But who are you?" he asked, turning his head this way and that as he took in the small vessel and the motley bunch scattered around the deck. The human smiled and gave a surprisingly elegant bow.
"Me apologies. I am Captain Drake Varlos, and this here is th’ Far Journey. I make th’ run ta Refuge bringin’ supplies and refugees from all over." The confused expression on Taureth’s face deepened.
"Where is this Refuge, are we still near Felwithe? he asked in a rush. "How did I get here?" he added with an edge of panic in his voice. Varlos looked at him curiously before answering.
"Well I’m not knowin’ o’ any high elf refugee colonies ‘round here if that’s what ye mean. So we’re nowhere near where ever ye came from I’m supposin’. Do ye know what happened ta th’ boat ye were on? We weren’t findin’ any about but yerself clinging ta a kite shield. Not even a bit o’ wreckage ta be seen. If ’twere’nt fer Ingrid here’s eyes", he said nodding to the white haired half elf next to him grinning boldly, "we would’ve sailed right by ye."
Varlos frowned at the high elf’s glaze-eyed expression. "Ye be settin’ yerself down awhile," he said with a wave toward a pile of ropes. "A bit o’ shock," the captain muttered to Ingrid, who nodded in agreement. "Ye’ll be fine in a bit," he said more loudly to the dazed elf. After the human gestured more insistently, Taureth shakily stumbled over to the pile and sat down with a thump. The koada’dal stared blankly down at his hands as around him the motley crew resumed their duties.
Taureth gazed numbly at the pale, slender digits resting in his lap. He watched with detachment as they occasionally shifted and flexed, dexterous fingers twitching. These aren’t my hands, he thought in amazement. These aren’t my almost human hands, too clumsy for anything but wielding a sword. His gaze drifted up to settle on bare arms that were almost pallid. He rotated first the left then right almost delicately, still staring.
These aren’t a paladin’s muscles, came the frightening thought. These arms haven’t worn plate and hefted Felwithe’s heaviest sword for a century. The lean muscles were as foreign to him as the bizarre boat he now traveled in. Even the skin itself was dreadfully wrong. The scar Highmoon gave me for flippancy is gone… and where is the burn from sparring with the Artkeeper… what was his name again? Studying the skin closely revealed a complete absence of any marks, as if the skin Taureth wore had never been lived in. Where are my arms? Terror rose in his throat almost choking him.
Slowly a hand that shouldn’t have been his rose and traced a large, pointed ear. Still fox eared, he thought with an odd feeling of relief that was quickly ripped away as it occurred to the elf that he had no memory of the person who had once said that of him. A woman… some important, to him at least. As he concentrated on the fragment of memory, a distant recollection of her voice came to him.
"Not rabbit eared love! Your fine, long ears are as fox-like as you are. Subtle in thought, fierce when needed, and the Mother gave you ears that show it." Taureth could almost hear the melody of her voice and the affection in it. Yet he still couldn’t call her name to mind.
Panicking, he closed his eyes tightly and scoured his mind, trying to pluck forth any memory scattered in his addled brain. I am Taureth… I was born in Felwithe in the year dated 2970… My mother was Airytari of the Brightstar line… He paused as an image of his flame-haired koada’vie mother sprang immediately to his mind’s eye. Her disapproving scowl was one she’d worn decades Taureth knew, but reasons escaped his shaky mind.
Thoughts came more slowly now, dredged up to the light of day to show their fragility. I served Tunare, he realized. She bestowed her grace and they trained me as koada’vie… unwillingly? Eyes closed tightly, he heard the long feared snarl of his grandfather’s voice.
"The boy’s parentage is questionable, THAT’S why the trainers sent him back! A father listed on a Freeport wedding license that no one’s ever met? Tis a wonder they allow him to be schooled in Felwithe at all!" Airytari’s always cool voice was frigid when she spoke.
"And do tell me what you believe my son’s parentage to be, father. I would be fascinated to hear your views on my honor." Taureth vividly remembered the leaden silence as he had pretended to be anywhere but between the quarreling adults.
Taureth’s mother had finally broken the silence in a calmer voice. "He is already a paladin of Tunare. Even the most arrogant of the koada’vie cannot dispute that the Mother has already granted her power. So the only matter to be decided is whether or not a Tunarean knight will wander Norrath untrained. Say this to the head of our order."
After another too long silence Tuleran Brightstar turned on his heel snapping as he left, "I will see you trained. But disgrace us not, boy!"
Taureth shivered, more from the memory than the still chilling wind. "How could I ever do anything but?" he muttered to himself. His mother’s scolding on the bare feet he had stared at through the fight hovered on the edge of his thoughts, the warning that a proper koada’dal was never so disreputable looking. One hand drifted up to touch the white mess tickling his shoulders.
Didn’t I hack this stuff off? He fingered the tangled locks, and then slowly raked it back. A fine mess I must look! Hesitantly at first, Taureth began creating a series of braids capturing the wayward strands. His thoughts began to settle as he braided. He yanked a loose thread from the remains of his ragged shirt and carefully pulled braids into the same high fall his grandfather had sported for centuries. The high elf smoothed a few strands back, feeling calmer than he had since waking on the Far Journey.
I am Taureth Paladinson, servant of Tunare and Felwithe… but how in the Mother’s name did I end up here? Where IS here even? Taureth stood, pleased to note the shaking was gone and scanned the ship for his erstwhile host. After a few minutes he made out the form of Captain Varlos among the crew scurrying around the deck.
Varlos smiled widely as the elf approached, nodding to a dark bearded dwarf wearing what had to be Norrath’s ugliest hat. The captain glanced at the outline of the wooded coast looming closer by the minute. "And thair be Refuge" he proclaimed gesturing widely and almost hitting his unwitting passenger on the nose. "Ye’ll be able ta get passage to either o’ the great cities thair. Though I’m guessin’ only one would be wantin’ ye, or even one ta yer taste!" he added. Taureth quickly interrupted before the captain could begin rambling again.
"What cities?" The human blinked at him in disbelief and then began to chuckle.
"Why Qeynos and Freeport o’ course! Though most o’ yer folk are headin’ fer Qeynos o’ course." Varlos stared at him and then gestured to one side of the deck. "Maybe ye’d better have a sit down a’fore we moor. The trainers ashore can help ye along."
"But I hardly need training!" the high elf protested in vain as the crew shuffled back and forth around him. Throwing his hands up in resignation, Taureth leaned on the railing of the Far Journey as she entered the Isle of Refuge’s sheltered bay.
A/N Don't own any of Norrath, including places and people and any other Sony property, this is just a bit of fan fiction, so please don't sue. For those who have only played EQ2, Highmoon was a Felwithe guard back in EQ1, and I always imagined Taureth gave him quite a few headaches ;) !