Despair and Ale

The Soldier's Defense is a cheerful and busy place, if occasionally intimidating for its focus, and for the fact that few -want- to be here, outside of those that tend to the patients and keep the place up. Asmli is indeed still here, and is found amid patients that will be a long time in recovering from illness and injury. Several winding, quiet corridors later, one can find him in a cot near the door, sitting up and - at least mostly - dressed, with a pair of simple crutches next to his bed.

Magic healing has done wonders, but the scars from his mishap are still very, very evident. The long, braided blonde beard is now considerably shortened, the ends and the ties holding them braided burned away to leave a curly, wiry mess in its wake. New pink skin is visible on arms and hands where the burns had been, but the limbs are yet hairless, all the more unusual on the khazad. Most striking of all, though - the left leg that hangs over the side of the bed is much, much thinner than she remembers, and there is no sign of his armor anywhere. The right leg is entirely missing, from a handspan or so from the hip down. Perhaps the greatest casualty, though, is that the cheerful and bold demeanor he wore is entirely gone, and he looks positively glum, even for the grumpy khazad.

Elleandra has grown somewhat accustomed to this place. Mostly by attempts to see Asmli that resulted in her being turned away. This time, though, she knows she will succeed. Mostly because she finally realized to ask when she would be able to see her injured peer in adventuring. She brings with her food that was approved ahead of time-another learning from a previous failure-carefully packed in a basket.

She enters after knocking on the doorframe, she waits a moment to be given permission to enter. Once that is (hopefully) given, she will enter with a warm smile, her eyes somehow untroubled even by the severity of what has happened to Asmli.

Asmli looks up at the tap on the doorframe, and tries on a half-hearted smile when he sees who it is. "Saman," he greets in the khazadi tongue. "I had not expected to see any of you," he admits, sighing. "But you are welcome." His eyes go to the basket. "Are you well, and what have you got there?"

"I am well," says Elly gently. "And I brought you something to eat! I've spent a few days pestering every one of your people I could find to figure out the ideal khazad comfort food." She hopes that it was successful. She offers the basket and says more seriously, "I hope you like it. I know how important it is to eat things you like, and it must be difficult being cooped-up in here." The whole time, her smile never wavers, and she searches Asmli's eyes to learn what she can before pestering him with too many questions.

Geir has arrived.

Asmli's shoulders slump, although the food definitely remains an item of interest. "If it's better than porridge, then I'm all for it. I'd ask if you had ale, but I know better." Twinkly brown eyes shoot a dirty look down the hall at something unseen, then follow the shoulders downward. "Ain't like I got much place else to go right now, _saman_. Not likely to make it up the mountain as I am, and if I did, who knows if they'd take me back."

Elly lowers herself to better meet the khazad eye-to-eye as she replies, "I thought of sneaking you some, but I was afraid they'd catch me, and honestly what if they aren't just being excessively careful?" She sighs softly, "And it should be far better than porridge, at any rate."

She can only imagine how downcast he must feel right now. Indeed, things do look rather rough. "You know, someone much wiser than me taught me how to best handle these difficult situations. I won't pester you with a bunch of advice unless you are in the mood to hear a bit of a story at this point. I know when I'm having bad fortune I sometimes just want to wrestle with it. Other times, a friend's care is most welcome." She offers a hand to the khazad, her smile more fragile and her eyes conveying the strength of her empathy.

Dressed in grey robes, and bearing the sigils of Vardama, the Death Dragon, the coppery-scaled Sith roams the hospital. Checking on patients, exchanging greetings with others of his faith, and even having a few cheerful conversations with the Sunlord's Sunblades. His path takes him past the room where the Khazad and Sylvanori sit, and pauses. Backs up a few steps to glance at both of them. Another pause.

"Peace on your nesst", Geir intones quietly. "Thiss one has heard. Of a desire for... Ale. Such can be arranged." Another pause, and a mirthful expression settles on his face. "The price? A retelling of your tale, once the pain of your troubless have passt. Reasonable?"

Asmli rolls his eyes. "Naw, they're just bein' careful. Ain't gonna hurt me none, and they know it, they're just following their stupid rules. But I'll not say no to some of what you brought, then, if what I'm smelling is right." There's still some cheer under the morose exterior, but it's not easy to get to right now, and harder to keep in place.

"Ain't nothing to do with fortune. Bottom line is, I screwed up. Again. The elders are forever after me to be more careful, an' this time I'm in a right pickle, no doubt about it. I ain't really even know what I'm gonna do now, once I get out of here. But sure, tell me your story, it'll pass the time at lea..."

That's when the sith-makar makes his entrance. The khazad looks up, and his eyes go - wide. Very, very wide. "Uhhhh ... beggin' yer pardon, Mourner, I'm not quite ready to die just yet!" Only then does he absorb the sense of what was said, if in a way to which he is unaccustomed. "Um. Ale. Yeah. Guess there ain't that much to tell. Guild job sent us to the Plane of Fire. I charged a magma snake, tripped and ended up in a lava river."

Elleandra looks over the Geir and bows her head politely, "Good day to you, sir." She perks up a bit at the mention of ale. "So you are saying if I were to, say, produce some of that drink from a hidden compartment at the bottom of a basket it wouldn't cause trouble?" Just hypothetically.

"That mission was a strange one," says Elleandra. "I was there, and in retrospect I feel I went in without near enough information. A dangerous business, even without bad accidents."

The copper-scale gestures dismissively with a clawed hand. "One is named Geir. Mourner is for more formal occasionss" His expression remains warm, and filled with humour as he glances to Elleandra. "Ale, in ssmall amountss, is a good thing. The method of itss making removes much sicknesss the water may contain. Much like boiling water. One sshall claim to know nothing if quesstioned." Geir snorts and chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest, and he looks to Asmli.

"One doess perform the rites, in Vardama'ss name, however, one lendss his physical and magical prowesss to the Soldier'ss Defense in their timess of need. One is disappointed that your limbss could not be ssaved. That musst be difficult, yess?"

The suggestion that ale is to be had perks the khazad up considerably. "I won't tell if you won't." There's that flash of a good-humored grin, and Geir gets his share of that grin as well. "All right, Geir, then. I ... ain't rightly know much o' your kind, but if you've got ale, yer a friend."

His shoulders are still sagging, though, indicating a good cheer that is short-lived. "Yeah. I only lost the one, but the other is pretty messed up. It's going to take months or years to build that back up, if I ever can." He screws up his face in an expression that would be comical if it didn't somehow express shame and self-recrimination. "Don't know how I'm going to do that, or if it even makes any difference. Not like I'm ever going to fight again, and fighting's all I know."

"You do not know that," Elleandra says, her voice suddenly clear and powerful and her lock on Asmli's with great intensity. "I think perhaps you do need to hear my story, Asmli, more than I had guessed. If you believe this the end, you need to change your viewpoint." She shakes herself just slightly, and she is back to smiling, her entire posture subtly different.

"Where there is life and will, the fight goes on. Your people are as stubborn as stone, and unwavering as the firmament. What is difficult will shape you, but it falls to you to decide just what that shall mean, my friend." As Elleandra speaks, there's something of a glow in her eyes, each word more confident than the last.

"That is the pain of losss speaking.", the Sith says, his voice lowering. "You worry firsst about healing, staying healthy, avoiding infection. Then. Then one beginss to get back what is hisss." Geir nods to Elleandra. "She speaks wissdom. You have a long lifetime, you will become better than you were."

While the other two speak, Asmli has assumed the posture of one who is being lectured, and is fully expecting the blast - shoulders and eyes down, an entire bearing full of resignation. "Don't see how, really. Maybe there's something I can do," he admits. Or maybe ale and food would help, but he's not brash enough to say so.

"Eat first," suggests Elleandra. "The most important wars are not one on the first day. And I'd suggest finding the wineskin full of ale at the bottom of the basket and emptying it. It's under the red cloth. I bet that will improve your spirits." And hopefully Geir's present means no strict healers will sneak up on them.

"But in all honesty, Asmli, I believe in time you will see things in other ways. I have been lost at times, myself, if admittedly in a different way. When cornered by a situation, it tends to spark creative solutions to make up for what is lost. Mine haven't always been the wisest, mind you, but they saved me nonetheless."

"The world is an amazing place.", the Sith comments, glancing out the window for a few moments before focusing on Asmli. "You have been grievioussly wounded. You are allowed to heal, to sulk, to worry. It is natural. What iss not natural is refussing to get up again. Refussing to continue life." He looks to Elleandra and nods knowingly. "You are quite wise.", Geir says quietly. "It doess sound as though you have suffered before."

Asmli is not slow, given permission, to find the food and ale, the bottle of the latter swiftly finding itself swathed in the bedclothes when he isn't drinking from it. The food is as welcome as the ale, and he does indeed seem a little brighter after a few bites and a few hearty swigs - all right, half the bottle - of ale. "It's just ... I wanted to prove that I was - could be - useful to the clan. That I wasn't just a screw-up. I ... managed to prove just the opposite. I ... ain't gonna stop living, I just ... don't really know what I'm gonna do now."

Elleandra smiles at the Sith and nods, "I have. Yet all who walk in this world suffer. But suffering inspires; it can inspire kindness and a soft touch, it can make one apathetic and disconnected, and some turn to darkness, wishing to exert control over others as if it might somehow fill them after the world has been cruel to them."

"And my apologies. My name is Elly, or Elleandra, if you prefer. I have shared stories with travelers in many lands. For the effort and care of a good meal, I learned much of each of them. I like to think that some changed in good ways after those brief moments."

Turning back to Asmli, Elly nods quickly, "That is a healthy path to start walking. I don't know you as well as I'd like yet, and certainly not well enough to be specific with any advice. What I have confidence in saying is that value comes in many forms, and sometimes when we lose something important, we can find a new path that makes us greater."

Geir nods to Elleandra. "Elleandra is a nice name. Sometimess all it takess is lisstening. A kind word. Encouragement. You are both wise and kind." The Sith looks to Asmli then. "Heal up firsst. Then worry about what comess next. One can assisst you. You will be provided for. Houssed. Clothed. Fed. You only need heal."

The copper-scale extends a single finger, gesturing to Asmli's heart. "Here." The claw is pointed at the Khazad's temple. "And here."

Asmli eyes that claw, a little warily, brown eyes fixed on it as it points at him, swallowing rather forcefully the bite of food he'd taken. His eyebrows hads gone up in delight at the taste of the food. "Uhhh...yeah. Okay, I'll do that." He looks down at the food in what passes for a lap with him now. "This is really good." A heavy sigh, and another swig of ale. "I can walk a little, with the crutches, but the privy is about as far as I can manage. Ain't letting them carry me."

Elly looks down at the praise, first from Geir, and then when Asmli compliments the food. Her cheeks turn a distinct pink, though her expression clearly shows that she enjoys feeling helpful. "You are both very generous to me," she says softly.

After a time, she shakes off her embarassment and raises her head once more. "You know, I don't have much to do these days, Asmli. I'd like to visit you more often, if that's ok. And if there's anything you want me to find out or even do while you are here, I would be honored to assist. After all, there were a couple times where your people helped me. Including once when it mattered most in my life."

"One will return. Resst and heal.", the Sith says to Asmli. He glances to Elly, his expression warm. "When one has nothing good to ssay, one remainss silent. When one has good thingss to say, one is generouss with them." Geir lifts his hand in a brief wave. "One musst continue his roundss. Peace on your nesst." He slowly begins to back away.

Asmli looks downwards, then back up, and nods to Geir. "Not like there's much else for me to do right now, right? I will." He tries on a grin, in an effort to inject some levity, but doesn't stop the lizard from leaving. Instead, he looks over at Elleandra, curiously. "My people helped yours? When was that?"

Elleandra rises to properly curtsey to Geir as he steps away. "Peace on your nest as well, Servant of The Grey Harpist," she offers formally. She offers a warm smile as she stands for a moment, before again lowering herself to more easily speak with Asmli.

"And yes, they certainly did. The situation I am speaking of happened some fifteen years ago, give or take. I honestly didn't reckon time with great care in my travels. In my journey I found something precious to me, but it was in the possession of another." Elleandra selects her words with care. Her voice is different, though. Softer, almost fragile. "The one who held that deepest yearning of my heart had things he loved more, you see. He loved works of mortal hands and matters of wealth."

Despite his own worries, Asmli finds himself listening to the tale with interest, though he does retain enough presence of mind to keep eating - and, perhaps more importantly, drinking, concealing the bottle carefully in the bed when not drinking from it. "Got a lot of kinfolk like that," he agrees. "Make some pretty nice stuff. But go on."

Elleandra stops in her tale for a time. There's a sense of uncertainty in her demeanor. "The one who held what I wished for was a Shah, in the sands of Veyshan. He was, in essence, the king of a small city. Which is where I was when I saw.. her." Though the story is bringing that pink hue back to Elleandra's cheeks, she is smiling. "Her name was Kamaria, and she was gathering water at the well in the city center."

For Elleandra, the room she is in goes away, and she can see that place as if it were there now. "The air in that land is dry, and when the wind is lifted, the sand both sears and cuts the skin. Water is precious, and so when a lady is gathering it, she must move with care as they balance the jugs on their heads. Every step is this graceful dance, it is.. simply beauty in motion."

Elleandra laughs gently at herself, going on. "I learned her name from others, and found that she was, essentially, a possession of the Shah. He had many women, but she was unique. In all my travels, I had only heard of the Half-sil, I had never seen one before."

"So wait, you wanted a king's woman?" Asmli pauses, bottle in hand, trying to sort out what is clearly confusing to him. "Thought the sil disliked half-sil, don't they kick them out of their homes?" So many questions, but none ill-meant. He tilts his head at Elleandra, his own predicament forgotten and a measure of his usual energy returning.

"I did," replies Elleandra. "And while my blood may be Sil, I cannot dislike another for the matter of their birth. A child does not select their parents, after all. And while ones start does influence their place, it is does not decide it. Why, some of my people don't like the khazad, they loath the Mul'niessa, and well, listing all their biases takes so long as to be tedious and depressing. I am grateful for my mother taking me so far from home. I do not know what she might say about this story, though."

"In any case, back then I had heard of slavery, which I've since confirmed in this city. In that city in Veyshan it was different. Only a woman might be possessed in this way, and it carried with it a sort of prestige, in this case. After all, he was the Shah." Elly sigh wistfully, "You can imagine my disappointment. I had wandered so far, seen so many things and now, in this strange desert place I was captured beyond escaping."

For a moment, she stops speaking, and only after several seconds pass a soft sound fills the room. Elleandra hums and whispers the words of a song from that land. The lyrics are not precise, and it's clear she doesn't remember them all. "I do not know exactly what she was singing on her way to the well," she explains abruptly. "But I started to meet her, once with the coming of the dawn, and once, longer, just before night was falling. It was in these meetings I realized that she was a prisoner, and I could tell when our eyes met that she desired me, as well."

"But ... if the shah's like a king ... laying a hand on her is pretty dangerous, isn't it?" Having asked his question, Asmli finishes the last of his food, and absently sets the food-covered remains back in the basket sitting on the bed. "Go on."

"But that left the matter of the Shah, as you rightly point-out," says Elly. "He was a very.. material man. And it occured to me that from his perspective, the women were just possessions, and he had at least two dozen ladies in his service. I took a sudden interest in every palace rumor I could find, and to gain an understanding of just how these customs worked. It was.. complicated. To free her, I needed to get her father's blessing and to provide him with an adequate token to relieve her of her official duties. In short, I had to win her father's will and provide him with a gift valuable enough to reimburse the Shah."

Elleandra sighs gently. "In any case, it was around this time that I was beginning to feel quite hopeless. How could I possibly achieve this? But there is always a way, and this is where the khazad come in." She grows a little more animated at this point, explaining meeting dwarven traders who had brought the work of their hands from the north to trade along the souther caravan routes. While she is no match for a dwarven eye when it comes to assessing quality, her descriptions of finely-detailed silver and gold works is adequate to demonstrate that they were masterful in their crafts.

Elly got to know these travelers and used her knowledge of local customs to gain them an audience with Kamaria's father. With an appropriate introduction and gift, Kamaria's father saw fit to introduce them to the Shah. With the Shah's blessing (obtained by a cunningly-selected gift), they could trade without dealing with petty bureaucrats (who wuold demand another dozen or so bribes), but also enjoy lower duties when doing so. Fore their part, the Khazad were kind enough to make Elleandra appear to be a critical member of their organization. The kind of person who has wealth and power of her own, rather than a woman who travelled with nothing but a few items she could easily carry.

This arrangement, along with further help from the khazad traders led Kamaria's father to withdraw his daughter from the Shah's service. The Shah, now personally enriched and quite delighted with the great prestige that his new possessions brought, did not even hesitate. After all, a half-breed would hardly due in the court of a man whose power was on the ascent.

Elleandra sighs gently, "But.. there was a problem." Her smile shifts ever-so-slightly, and sadness grows in her eyes. "Kamaria's father wanted power, and I could not give this to him. Even though Kamaria was a Half-sil and many viewed her unfavorably, he was not going to surrender her so easily. Especially when it was made clear to him that she was valuable to me. You see, the plan backfired in this way. I had no way to buy her from her father. He viewed my desire for her as strange from the first, but so long as there was gold at the end of the story, he wasn't terribly concerned about the odd 'fetish' of some indecent traveler."

"After a time, he no longer let me see her," explains Elly. "He said if I wanted to take her from his house I must pay as much as the Shah had. Five thousand gold is the price for his daughter. I of course have no wealth. The khazad had bought me a few days with Kamaria. A few days of hope and joy. Some live longer than I without getting so much."

Asmli listens to the entire tale, the ale by now finished, his own predicament forgotten in the tale and its telling. "That sounds quite a misery," he says sympathetically. So ... you found a way, when it looked like nothing was gonna work out ... or are you still trying to find that way?"

Elleandra sighs gently, "I am still trying, honestly. But I am not giving up. I have wandered much since then, and while I've certainly gained much more wealth than I had at the time, I am not rich enough to claim my desire." Her smile is undefeated by the reality. "I hope the Sil blood is strong enough in her for her to know I've not given up, and that I have not changed. I have sent messages from time to time, though I do not know if they ever find her hands. Regardless, I am grateful for what your people did for me. They have given me a hope that lives on."

"Huh." Asmli scratches at the stubble on the sides of his head, as if it itches, and ponders that tale in silence. "Guess you're right. I shouldn't give up so fast. It's only ... I can't go home, and I haven't got a clue what to do now. I s'pose ... what I have to do right now is heal, and then I'll figure it out?"

"Yes. When a solution lays beyond your current horizon, take the steps that you know must be taken. Trust them to lead you in the right direction. I have for fifteen years, Asmli. Somehow I just know that in this city, I will find what I seek." Elleandra closes her eyes for a moment, and her left hand settles over her heart. "It will be here, my friend, where my faith shall be rewarded at last."

"Fifteen years isn't all that long, really," Asmli offers, now running a hand through the spiky mess that is the shock of blonde hair atop his head. "But it's long enough, when it's something like that," he hastens to add. "Yeah, I s'pose I can live with that for now. At least the bandages are starting to come off."

"Once they feel up to it, we can start working you out a bit," suggests Elleandra. "Get out and around the city, perhaps. Ale is better at the pub than it is out of a skin." She grins and adds, "Besides, maybe you have some tips for a woman who needs to come by some money."

"Guild work, if you've the skills and the stomach for it," Asmli says promptly. "No better way to make coin quickly. Was that your first Guild job?" he asks, as he tosses the skin more carelessly back into the basket. He does indeed seem to be in rather better spirits, at least for now, but he's got a long, hard road ahead of him, and he knows it. For now, though, he only uses his upper body, his shoulders bunching with the effort, to swing his remaining leg back into the bed and under the bedclothes. "What skills have you got?"

Elleandra shakes her head, "My second job for the Guild, actually. The first worked out a bit more according to plan, though I wasn't particularly impressive in it, either." She laughs at herself, "Honestly, I'm a cook at heart, but a sorcerer by necessity. When it comes to battle, anyway. Away from it, I tend to focus more on understanding people."

Asmli grits his teeth and lets out a hiss between them as he moves wrong in some way, but he does not complain or say anything more of it. "A magic type? Ain't my thing, but it's damned useful, sometimes. Don't you worry, I wasn't much use my first couple jobs, either. That's why they send the new people with more experience people, to teach them the ropes. I ain't been out that many times, myself." His expression falls a little, again, but he seems to banish the though.

"Well, with luck I can earn my way through," replies Elleandra. "I have a lot to work for, after all. Hopefully the damned man doesn't charge interest, at least. Hopefully she's safe and still remembering our time together." The brief cloud over the room passes for both of them and she says more confidently, "I'm sure she's pining for me even more so than I am for her. At least I have friends and can see the world."

"I bet she is," Asmli offers, finally displaying one of the good-humored grins he'd shown when first they took the job." He shifts a little, as if having a difficult time getting comfortable. "Thanks for sharing that, you know? Glad someone was able to help you out ... and I guess I shouldn't grumble. I did it to myself, after all."

"We all tend to rush in at times," replies Elly. "Some just in different ways. And thank you for letting me share. You are the first person I've told that story to since I left the south. It's been my secret. Perhaps now that I've spoken of it, my fortunes will change. And I can't wait to see how your fortune changes now. You have lost a leg, but gained something you never would have given yourself otherwise, Asmli: time to think."

"Can't really say as I wanted it quite like this," Asmli admits, staring down at the blankets that cover what is left of his lap. "Guess you're right, though. Guess it's got to get better from here." _Not as if it could possibly get worse,_ the unspoken left to hang behind it.

Elleandra rises slowly and curtseys to Asmli. "We never want what we get, Asmli. But when we get what we most desire, perhaps now we will be strong and wise enough to hold on tight to it, no matter the cost." With great care she offers something of a hug to the khazad and takes the empty basket. With that, she slips out the door. The song from the story can be heard, a little stronger and clearer as she departs.