Chapter Five #2

Tamriel’s gaze softened. “There are,” he admitted, his voice low. “And despite Faerie’s flaws, it is my home. I love it, in my own way. The thought of leaving it for the Hunt has made me realize how many things I will miss.” He paused, staring out at the horizon. “There are the things that take time to truly appreciate—the hot springs in the hidden grottoes, the way the rivers tumble down cliffs and make a music that rivals any instrument. I will miss cooking. And I will miss planting seeds and watching them grow. There’s something about taking the time to make a home not just functional, but beautiful.”

Idris, still sitting on the grass, absentmindedly twisted a long blade of grass between his fingers. “I don’t think I can do much about the gardening,” he said lightly, “but we can try the other things.”

Tamriel smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him at Idris’s words. He moved to sit beside him, placing the bag of food between them. “I would like that,” he said quietly. He glanced at Idris, his expression turning more serious. “We do not give thanks lightly here, but Idris, you have my gratitude. I know this is not easy for you. Your unexpected companionship has made a difficult week bearable. If there is any way I can repay you for your kindness, you need only ask.”

Idris smiled, looking up at Tamriel with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He set the grass down and leaned back on his hands, gazing at the sky above. “You offered me a sword lesson last night—if you really want to balance out this karmic thing, how about giving me a couple of lessons before I leave?”

“That I can do,” Tamriel replied, a laugh escaping him. “Though I still think that’s not quite enough repayment.”

Idris waved him off dismissively, grinning. “It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? I think that more than makes up for me getting a free vacation in a magical land with a man who cooks for me. But if you’re really set on repaying me, you could start by letting me have one of those cakes I saw you pack earlier.”

Tamriel laughed, his heart light, and he leaned forward to open the pack. “As you wish,” he said, unwrapping the beeswax paper from the slices of cake. He offered one to Idris, who eagerly took it.

“My mum always told me I should marry someone who could cook,” Idris remarked with a grin, taking a bite of the cake. He closed his eyes in appreciation, letting out a satisfied hum. “I mean, of course, she taught me to cook too, and I can manage, but I don’t have the patience for it. Mostly, I stick to pasta and stuff I can throw on top of rice.”

“Mmm,” Tamriel murmured, caught between gratitude and confusion, unwilling to admit that he had no idea what pasta was. Instead, he simply took a slice of cake for himself, letting the sweetness linger as he chewed. His eyes wandered over the vast landscape below, appreciating the sight of the world stretching out beneath them. Idris, however, had finished his first slice in record time and was already on to his second. It amused Tamriel to see how quickly the human consumed the treat, and he made a mental note to bake again in a couple of days. It seemed Idris had a real fondness for sweets.

For a moment, they ate in companionable silence, the only sounds between them the soft crunch of cake and the occasional sigh of contentment from Idris, who savored each bite more than the last. Eventually, it was Idris who broke the silence.

“Earlier,” he began, his voice thick with the remnants of cake, “you described ever-shifting mazes as ‘funny things.’” It wasn’t exactly a question, but Tamriel could sense the curiosity behind the statement.

“Well, they are,” Tamriel chuckled, his smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Especially if it’s someone you don’t like. Surely, there’s someone you’d love to see trapped in an impossible maze for a half hour or so?”

Idris paused, chewing thoughtfully, before answering. “But how do you choose who gets trapped?”

Tamriel’s expression shifted to one of mock solemnity. “For some Fae, it’s completely random. Whoever happens to walk by at that particular moment. But for me, I like to choose those who deserve it.” He paused for a moment, the memory of a particular incident resurfacing. “There was a minor lord once, a pompous fool, who wanted to tear down half of a wood for his own amusement. I took it upon myself to convince a tree root to trip him up right before he was about to make a grand speech to his followers.”

Idris almost choked on his mouthful, eyes widening in realization. “That was you? I remember hearing about that. It went viral! Yeah, that guy definitely deserved it.”

Tamriel’s lips curled into a wry smile. “It didn’t change much, but it did give me a small sense of satisfaction.”

Idris grinned, clearly enjoying the story. “You’re an eco-warrior, I like it.”

The ease of Idris’s smile struck Tamriel in a way he hadn’t expected. Faeries were not creatures prone to such open displays of emotion. They were masters of masking their expressions, carefully cultivating an air of mystery and distance. But Idris’s smiles came without restraint, without hesitation. It was like cool water on a hot day—a refreshing thing in its simplicity and purity.

“And what about you, Idris?” Tamriel asked, shifting the conversation. “When you’re not saving lives, what do you do?”

Idris let out a soft laugh. “I sleep, mostly. Or go to the pub with my friends and complain about work. I go to the gym, help run a self-defense class once a fortnight. Watch TV, play video games. I draw.”

Tamriel’s interest piqued at that last word. “You’re an artist?” he asked, his voice rich with curiosity.

Idris nodded, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, when I get the time. I’ve always found that drawing helps me relax. It’s like it gives my thoughts a place to go, helps me get some out of my head while letting me forget others.”

Tamriel smirked. “And you say there’s no magic in your world?”

Idris laughed, a light, easy sound that seemed to resonate in the air between them. “You won’t say it’s magic when you see them. But look, let me show you.”

Idris pulled out a slim black rectangle from his pocket—something Tamriel had only ever seen from afar, never in action. As the surface of the object lit up, Tamriel leaned forward with intense curiosity. It was an object unlike anything he had ever imagined. Idris’s fingers moved swiftly over it, and the screen transformed with images and icons, shifting with each movement of his hand.

“What do you call this?” Tamriel asked, unable to hide his intrigue.

Idris raised an eyebrow, surprised. “It’s a phone,” he said. “A mobile phone, technically.”

Tamriel’s brow furrowed. “A personal scrying slate?” he ventured.

Idris chuckled. “Uh, you can video call people on it, so I guess? I never thought I’d have to explain a phone. This is harder than it should be.”

Tamriel held the phone in his hands, examining it closely as though it were some magical artifact. “You can see people on the screen here, and they can see you on theirs,” Idris explained. “Or you can just talk to them without them seeing you. But most phones can do a lot more. Like this…” He touched a small corner of the screen, and suddenly, the image shifted, displaying the ground in front of them. “See? If you press this button here, it takes a photo of whatever you’re pointing it at.”

Tamriel blinked, genuinely amazed. Idris demonstrated how “photos” worked, capturing images of the landscape around them, and even one of the two of them sitting together. The clarity of the image was startling—Tamriel’s reflection staring back at him in a way he hadn’t expected. It was disorienting, but also fascinating.

“And this?” Tamriel asked, pointing to a different icon he hadn’t yet explained.

“That’s the internet,” Idris said, his smile turning wry. “Honestly, I don’t think I can even begin to explain that one to you. But, look, this is what I wanted to show you.”

Idris scrolled through the phone and pulled up a series of small photos—sketches, clearly the work of his own hand. One by one, he enlarged them, and Tamriel found himself mesmerized. The images were of people, faces sketched in charcoal, and while they were far from perfect, they held a life of their own. There were little smudges, soft imperfections in the lines, but they gave the images a depth, a warmth. The figures seemed to have stories of their own, as though Tamriel could almost hear their voices if he listened hard enough.

“These are wonderful,” Tamriel said, his voice soft and sincere. “I don’t have much experience with human art, but these… these are some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Idris shrugged, clearly modest but pleased by the compliment. “Thanks,” he said, a glint in his eye. “It’s incredibly flattering to hear that from a guy who can’t lie.”

"I cannot imagine how anyone would feel otherwise when looking at these," Tamriel said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. He could feel the weight of the sketches lingering in his mind, the warmth of the figures Idris had created. They weren't just drawings; they were alive, brimming with emotion, stories untold, and unspoken connections.

Idris grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a mischievous spark. "I might quote you in a review if I ever try to sell any of my pieces."

"You should," Tamriel encouraged with a smile of his own, his words carrying an earnestness that surprised even him. "I would certainly buy them. And should you wish to draw anything you see here, then you need only ask for a pencil and parchment."

Idris raised an eyebrow, as though considering the proposition. "That’d be great, actually. Thank you. You can add that to the list of things you’re repaying my company with," he said with a playful wink.

Tamriel froze for a moment. He had only ever been winked at once before, and it had ended in an experience that left him reeling and disoriented. The memory was sudden and sharp, a vivid flash of a well-endowed Fae named Miach, who had taken him in a way that left him breathless and confused. The thought stirred something in Tamriel, a fleeting image of Idris touching him in the same way, and Tamriel was suddenly aware of the way his mouth had fallen slightly open. Hastily, he shoved the last piece of cake into his mouth, hoping to disguise his unease and the unexpected flush creeping up his neck.

Six more nights, Tamriel. You must at least try, he told himself firmly. Try to keep your thoughts focused and your emotions in check.

Tamriel swallowed, gathering his composure, and steered the conversation toward safer waters. "Who are the people you draw?" he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos of thoughts swirling in his head. "Your love for them is clear in your art. They must mean a lot to you."

"They do," Idris said, his tone sincere and unguarded. He pulled up another photo on his phone and handed it over to Tamriel. "Here, this is my friend Addison."

The image on the screen was of one of the women from his drawings—a smiling woman with dark hair pulled back into neat braids. She held up a glass filled with sparkling pink liquid, clearly posed for Idris to capture the moment. Her joy was palpable even through the screen, and Tamriel could almost feel the warmth of the scene.

"I’ve only known her a few months," Idris continued, "but she’s great. Fun. She’s a trainee paramedic, so me and my partner Owen have been mentoring her. And this is Owen." He swiped to the next image, revealing a photo of a scowling man holding a finger up to the camera, an expression that was equal parts annoyance and affection.

"He’s uh, he’s a character," Idris said, his smile widening. "I mean, he’s a good guy and knows his stuff, but he’s also the grumpiest bastard I know. But that’s sort of why we love him." Idris swiped again, revealing a photo of Addison and Owen together, the two of them wrapped in a hug, both grinning like the world had no cares.

"And this is Kayla and Elena," Idris said, moving on to the next photo, "Elena’s my boss, and Kayla’s her wife."

The image was a quiet, intimate one. Two dark-haired women were captured in a moment of shared joy, not looking at the camera but lost in their own world. One of them, the woman with short hair, was laughing into her drink, while her wife gestured excitedly in the air, her face alive with the emotion of the moment. There was something in the photo that resonated with Tamriel, an unexpected pang in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy—he didn’t think—but some deep, aching feeling, the hollow longing for something he couldn’t quite grasp.

"Couple goals," Idris said, his voice tinged with nostalgia, and even though Tamriel didn’t quite understand the term, he could feel the sentiment behind it, the softness in Idris’s tone.

Tamriel studied the image a moment longer before asking, "Do you not have a beloved? Surely you must have suitors aplenty."

Idris’s laugh was a little bitter, a touch of humor masking a deeper vulnerability. "I’m tragically single," he said, his words light, though Tamriel could sense the strain beneath them. "I just haven’t met the right guy yet, I guess. Besides, I work such horrible hours I don’t really get to meet people the normal way. And the men I meet on the job are either drunk, dying, or firemen."

Tamriel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "And firemen are…?"

"People who put out fires. Very strong and very full of themselves," Idris said with a grin, his voice mocking but affectionate.

Tamriel laughed, unable to resist. "Their name rather suggests they are the ones starting fires rather than extinguishing them."

Idris’s grin widened. "I’ll tell them that next time I see them."

There was something about the way Idris smiled—so effortless, so real—that made Tamriel’s chest tighten. It was an imperfection, the kind of thing that made Idris seem more human, more tangible. It was fascinating and oddly endearing, and Tamriel wondered if he would feel the same way if it were any human other than Idris sitting beside him.

The conversation flowed easily after that, with Idris continuing to tell stories of his friends, each tale laced with affection and humor. Tamriel listened intently, captivated by the warmth of it all, by the way Idris spoke about the people in his life with such genuine fondness. They spent hours up on the hills, eating, drinking, and lounging in the grass, the conversation never faltering. Tamriel forgot, for a blissful stretch of time, that this was all temporary. The fleeting nature of their meeting was something he had pushed aside, letting the joy of the moment fill the space instead.

It wasn’t until the first wash of pink appeared in the sky to herald the sunset that Tamriel was jolted back into reality. The warmth of the day began to fade as the colors of the sky deepened into rich oranges and purples, and the night started to encroach upon their quiet sanctuary. They gathered their things and made their way back down the hill, where Grey was patiently waiting at the foot of the slope.

The journey back was slower, the air cooler, the sky darker. The stars began to twinkle in the heavens, and Idris seemed transfixed by their beauty. He leaned back against Tamriel as if trying to catch every glimpse, his eyes sparkling with wonder as they rode on through the night. Tamriel couldn’t help but notice the way the stars seemed to pull Idris in, how he seemed to lose himself in their glow. It made Tamriel think of the stars in Faerie, so very different from those in the human world. Here, the stars were uniform pinpricks of gold. But in Faerie, they shimmered in every shade of silver, green, and red, and some even moved—graceful spirals across the sky, as if the stars themselves were alive.

As they neared Tamriel’s home, something shifted in the sky. Tamriel's eyes narrowed, catching a faint, shadowy movement crossing the stars.

“The Valkyries,” Tamriel said quietly, nudging Idris to draw his attention. He pointed up at the dark figures moving in the sky. "As the Wild Hunt takes the blood of the fallen to feed Faerie, the Valkyries take the souls of the slain to forever rest under the mountains. They are fewer than the Hunt, but no less fierce. Not all souls are willing to depart their bodies.”

Idris turned at the mention of the Valkyries, his face pale with shock and something close to disgust. Tamriel could feel the tension in the air.

“You need not worry,” Tamriel reassured him, his voice soothing despite the weight of his words. “The Valkyrie only come for those who perish in battle.”

Idris gave him a look that suggested the reassurance did little to comfort him. "That’s not as comforting as you think," he said, his voice tight with unease.

Tamriel considered this for a moment, then offered, "Would some tea and a hot meal comfort you more?" He pulled Grey to a stop in front of his house, the lights of the small dwelling casting a warm glow in the cool night.

Idris laughed, though it seemed more to break the tension than anything else. "Now you're talking," he said nonsensically, but the enthusiasm in his voice made Tamriel’s heart feel just a little lighter. It was a strange thing, the way one simple conversation could make such a difference.

They dismounted from their horses, the soft thud of their boots hitting the ground blending with the quiet night air. Tamriel allowed Idris a moment to take in his surroundings before turning to his own task. With practiced ease, he led Grey to a small patch of grass where he offered his horse a selection of feed, the familiar sound of the grains being munched gently filling the space. Meanwhile, Tamriel set about preparing their dinner, a warm meal to counter the cool evening air that was beginning to creep in.

Idris, however, had other plans. He wasn’t interested in being sheltered from the stars by the canopy of Tamriel’s kitchen, and as Tamriel worked, he began to wander further from the warmth of the firelight, moving toward a clear patch of grass. "I think I’ll eat out here," Idris called back, his voice light and excited, as he looked up toward the heavens. "The stars are too beautiful to miss."

Tamriel nodded in silent understanding, watching as Idris made himself comfortable, his eyes already lost in the night sky. They ate in relative silence, the crunch of food mingling with the soft sounds of the world around them. Idris’s gaze was still fixed above, his phone occasionally clicking as he took photos, but after each shot, he expressed a quiet frustration. “For all the wonders these phones can capture, they can never seem to do the stars justice,” he said with a sigh, looking at the screen of his phone and then back up at the sky.

Tamriel didn’t respond immediately. He had known from his years spent in Faerie that some things simply couldn’t be captured or recreated. "Some things can only be enjoyed in the moment," he replied quietly, his voice low and thoughtful.

Idris gave him a small, appreciative smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but nonetheless carried a sense of acknowledgment. "I guess so," he agreed softly, his voice carrying the weight of his silent wonder. He turned back to the stars, and Tamriel could see the way the night sky seemed to pull him in, how the depth of the universe reflected in his gaze.

For a while, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the occasional shift of the night air. Tamriel felt a strange sense of peace settle in him as he watched Idris—this human, so full of life and wonder, so entirely different from the creatures of Faerie. He was glad the wolves hadn’t come that evening. They had been a constant reminder of the wild, untamable nature of Faerie, and the last thing Tamriel wanted was for Idris’s enjoyment of the night to be interrupted by the threat of danger.

As they sat there, the warmth of the fire was still present but distant. The temperature of the night was steadily dropping, the air turning colder as they lingered under the sky. Tamriel could see Idris shiver from the corner of his eye, his fingers going instinctively to his jacket sleeves, rubbing them together in an attempt to generate heat. He seemed uncomfortable, and the subtle movements—blowing on his fingers, wedging them under his clothes, and folding them under his armpits—didn’t escape Tamriel’s notice.

Tamriel’s heart tugged in sympathy. He wasn’t accustomed to this kind of cold. Nights in Faerie could get bitter, but his kind was built for the chill. Idris, however, was clearly out of his element. Without a word, Tamriel stood, excusing himself with a soft promise that he would be back soon. He made his way into his house, retrieving the heaviest blanket he could find and a pair of finely knitted gloves, knowing they would be just the thing to help Idris stave off the cold.

When Tamriel returned, Idris was still shivering slightly, his breath visible in the air as he adjusted himself by the fire. Tamriel walked over to him, offering the gloves first, which Idris accepted with a grateful smile. "Here," Tamriel said simply, handing them over and then unfolding the blanket to spread it out over their legs.

"You’re the best," Idris said, pulling the gloves on immediately and rubbing his hands together in relief. "I swear I have three different pairs of gloves, and yet I always manage to forget to use them whenever it gets cold."

Tamriel chuckled quietly, a soft, knowing sound. "It happens," he said, his voice warmer now, more comforting. Once they were both settled, the blanket wrapped snugly around their legs, Idris shifted a little closer toward him, the movement barely noticeable at first.

It was only sensible, Tamriel reasoned, to share body heat in order to stave off the growing chill of the night air. And yet, despite his logic, he found himself leaning in slightly more than he should. The heat of Idris’s body, so close to his own, was making it difficult to resist, and for a moment, Tamriel wondered what it would feel like to draw even closer, to feel the full warmth of Idris against him. He quickly pushed the thought aside, reminding himself that this was temporary, that there was no reason to get attached.

This is a mistake, he told himself sternly, but it was a fleeting thought. The pull of Idris’s presence was too strong, too immediate. You will only get attached and make things harder later.

Up above them, a vibrant green star suddenly streaked across the night sky, leaving a trail of tiny sparks in its wake. Idris gasped softly, his expression lighting up with awe. Tamriel caught the smile that spread across Idris’s face from the corner of his eye, and something inside him stirred. It was the simplest of moments, and yet, in that instant, the world felt perfect—quiet, still, and alive all at once.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. They simply sat together, watching the stars, the sounds of the world around them blending into a tranquil symphony. Tamriel’s earlier worries, his self-imposed boundaries, seemed to dissolve into the cool night air, leaving behind only the warmth of their shared presence. For once, he allowed himself to lean in just a little bit further, to feel the subtle pressure of Idris’s shoulder against his own, the heat of his breath, the soft rustle of fabric as they both shifted to get more comfortable.

Later did not matter, Tamriel realized. In that moment, it was enough to simply be here, to watch the stars with Idris and share in the quiet beauty of the night. The future was a fleeting thing, always shifting, always uncertain. But right now, right here, the universe felt infinite, and Tamriel found himself wondering if perhaps he didn’t need to think so much about what might come next.

He snuggled in closer to Idris, the stars above them now a dazzling display of light, and they sat together in the embrace of the cool night, watching the endless sky stretch out before them.