Love Found-Part One

Have you ever been in a monsoon where the rain seems to come down in solid sheets of gray that obscures everything beyond three feet from you? Have you ever experienced a hurricane whose thunder shook the ground and whose lightning lit up the sky like daylight? Well, this night the hapless town of Rushing Hollow was enjoying a combination of both, much to their dismay.

However, inside the Carzy Horse Inn, a watertight , two-storey affair made out of oak and cedar, the patrons were enjoying a roaring fire in the huge fireplace made out of river stones, and its golden light limned the freshly swept hearth of blue tile. It filled the room with welcoming warmth.

The main downstairs room held over a dozen tables which sat four people each and half a dozen trestle tables which sat eight people each. A bar sat by the far wall across from the oaken door with its bands of iron. Nearly ten feet long, the bar was made of sturdy oak and was tenderly cared for by the burly innkeeper stationed behind it.

The wooden floor, though scuffed and scarred from many a hobnailed boot and bar fight, was clean and lightly sanded to soak up the rain dripping from those within the inn.

On small shelves set on the walls between the tightly shuttered windows in their leaded casements, sat small lamps, each casting light through shades made of colored glass. Each shade was a different color and added to the cheeriness of the room.

The patrons of this establishment were quite happy where they were, and none were eager to brave the storm in order to make their way home. The ale was strong, and the wine, provided for the women who preferred something lighter, was sweet. A small group of minstrels, travelers stranded by the weather, played popular ballads and raucous drinking songs to pass the time away. The talk was loud and friendly, as most everyone knew everyone else. Such was the way in a village like this one.

Cryslys Silverthorn, her surname recently acquired in an attempt to blend in with humans, sat at her usual table in a corner across from the front door. She sat alone and read the village's two-page excuse for a newspaper out of sheer boredom. Still considered to be an outsider by the villagers, her company was rarely sought after voluntarily. She was used to this treatment, and she didn't allow it to bother her. Life was too short for that.

As a being who was half elven and half human, she was also accustomed to the shunning by members of both races, having been exposed to it all of her young life. She still found it curious, however, to be shunned by those who were halfbreeds like herself. These usually sought to blend in with one race or the other, and they thought they could do so by ignoring those of mixed heritage. She tended to avoid these and regarded them as nuisances who could become dangerous.

In this village called Rushing Hollow, the villagers tolerated those who were elven, and half elven, simply because they traded with the newly formed tribe of Greensward Elves. They didn't want to do anything to upset the tribe and lose their business or worse, become embroiled in a war with them.

Cryslys, herself, was part Silver Elf, the mother tribe of all known and presently existing elven tribes. Their rules, Queen Amber, had given birth to her. She was also part human, a common and generally unmagical race, from her sire's side. He was Roake Valhaven and a Master Ranger among his people.

Cryslys resembled both of her parents and neither in a unique combination of races and genes. Her skin was richly tanned and had a silver sheen to it. She had long, silky white hair that fell in waves about her slender shoulders. Her slightly slanted eyebrows were also white.

Soft gray eyes which, in a second, could become hard as iron, were almond shaped and regarded the world somberly. Her cheekbones were high, her nose was pert, and her lips were a little plump. A small chin completed her oval face. Beneath her hair was hidden a pair of slightly pointed ears decorated with earrings set with diamonds.

She sported a slender, almost fragile, form that was deceptive. She was actually quite strong with muscles carefully concealed beneath her loose fitting clothes.

She was considered, by most who saw her, to be quite beautiful, but she never thought so. It was not something she cared about either.

As a rule, she only spoke the common trading tongue of the realm, and she only spoke her elven tongue as a sign of rare favor to the listener.

Like her human ancestors, she was prone to intense emotion which her elven side abhorred. This aversion led her, naturally, to be a loner, even in a crowded room like the one she was currently sitting in.

Now, she found herself, after extensive traveling, in the medium-sized aleroom of a medium-sized inn located in the middle of a small village during a monster of a storm, bored almost to the point of tears.

Having read the Rushing Hollow Review, twice over, Cryslys threw the worthless scraps of handwritten paper aside and glanced at the front door which had opened only twice in the last four hours. It had first let in Rendell Ames, the blacksmith, and then, it had let in Dame Swane, who taught reading, writing and simple ciphering to the village's dozen or so children. Cryslys let her gaze rest on what little she could see outside the window on her left. Its shutters were the only ones missing.

Outside, the storm was still raging, just as strong as it was when it first began. Clear rainwater cascaded down the thick pane despite the peaked roof Arn, the innkeeper, had put up just to try to keep the rain off the windows. Through this distortion, Cryslys could just make out a former dirt road that was now just a watery mess of mud. It was easier for her to see the trees nearby, and she noted how they bowed under the heavy onslaught of wind and water. Two of the trees had broken boughs, the pale wood of the jagged edges visible and even more of the trees sported denuded limbs in their upper reaches. Leaves and small branches were scattered about on the ground below them, mostly obscured by the mud.

"It's going to be quite a mess when this storm finally lets up." Cryslys muttered, sipping her now cold spiced cider.

She made a face at the taste and set the cup aside.

"It certainly will be,"Arn agreed, walking up with a large tray full of drinks perched atop one large, splay fingered hand. "Is that cold?"

He indicated her cider with a thrust of his chin. Cryslys nodded morosely. Her money pouch was getting low, and she was very reluctant to spend the few remaining coins on another drink when she hadn't bothered to drink the first one while it was still hot.

She was quite surprised when Arn spirited away the cold mug and replaced it with one full of steaming cider. She raised one of her eyebrows at him to show this. Arn, seeing the brow go up on her usually impassive face, chuckled.

"The first drink on a tab is always a free one. House rule," he told her, shrugging casually, his voice a rich baritone.

"But I didn't request a tab," Cryslys reminded him, her own voice a pleasant alto, and she acted just as casual as he was. "Besides, I was under the impression only locals were allowed to have a bar tab."

Arn nodded, a grin spreading on his ruddy face.

"That's very true. Aimee and I talked about that very thing too, just last eve, and we've decided that, in the Crazy Horse Inn, you're a local just like the rest of us," he told her. "Truth be known, you've been living in Rushing Hollow long enough for the most liberal of us to be thinking of you as a local too. You'll see, as time goes on, the rest of the folks around here will think so too. Then, you'll have more friends than you can shake a stick at."

This bit of news both pleased and distressed Cryslys. She gave Arn a grateful little smile though, making sure it didn't show on her blunted fangs, and she saluted him with her hot mug.

"I thank you for the honor," she found herself saying, and Arn's grin got so wide it threatened to split his beefy face in half.

"It's my pleasure," he said, nodding, and he sauntered away whistling a happy tune.

Cryslys' gaze drifted from Arn's broad back to the window again, her boredom returning in full force. The rain had let up a little, but it refused to show signs of ceasing altogether at any time in the near future. Seeing this, she resigned herself to enduring another long hour's wait and began to nurse her new cup of spiced cider. She hated strong drinks like ale and such because it tended to cause her to become quite violent.

Five minutes later, the door to the inn was pushed open, rain flying in the opening. At the sound, Cryslys looked towards the portal, her move both habitual and instinctive.

Her unobstructed view, due to noone sitting anywhere near her, allowed her a perfect look at the door. This, in turn, gave her a good look at the water logged stranger as he quickly stepped inside and forced the door shut behind him.

The Love Rose

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