Tenuous Circumstances

[Nilan]

Nilan paced impatiently in the darkened room he often rented at Jenna’s Way House just north of his homeland of Dobluth Kyor. He had spent days trying to learn about the lore and properties of Elven Moonblades, but thus far his research had been more frustrating than informative. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of a drow trying to learn the secrets of an elven relic. In truth, his desire went deeper than that. The moonblade was believed to be the only god touch weapon that remained in its original form after the ancient battle fought long ago to imprison the Vile One. It was also said that god touched weapons would be needed to kill this dreadful being. Nilan pondered what he had learned thus far.

The Baneites, agents of the Vile One, were attacking more frequently, and with greater ferocity. To the drow that could only mean that the Vile One knew that he indeed had something to fear from the combined forces of Darkness and Light and that he was making attempts to neutralize that threat. Nilan snickered softly. What victory it would be, if the Vile One’s minions were to succeed in taking or even destroying the very god touched blades that were said to be essential to bring about the Vile One’s demise. That thought stopped the drow in his tracks for a moment. He closed his eyes re-living the prophecies on the sacred stones. His city under attack….His people screaming, dying….Vhaeraun’s temple in flames. No…, that was not an option the assassin even wanted to consider. For that reason, he believed that the moonblade, like the other god touched blades, if they existed, had to remain out of the Vile One’s wicked grasp. Likewise, the bearer, seeker, and weaver, also had to remain safe. There were very few options left, but the drow believed that this was indeed a priority.

Out of frustration, Nilan crumpled a piece of parchment in his hand thrusting it into one of the hidden pockets of his cloak. The drow was unable to read the elvish language regarding the history of the moonblade, named Tahlshara. His desire to learn more had forced him to seek information from the very people which possessed the relic. The assassin’s attempts to speak with the ranger, Llandrien had been unsuccessful of late. In truth, Nilan wasn’t sure how the ranger would perceive his desire for this kind of information. Llandrien already believed he had tainted and defiled one elven relic, the amulet Gurns wore around his neck. “What would the elf think next?” the assassin snickered and shrugged. “The elves are already demanding justice for the defiling of the amulet, and that carries a sentence of death” he mused. “What does it matter then what they think or call my present interest in the moonblade, Tahlshara.”

The assassin sighed and sat upon the bed. His mind was racing with questions. Questions that he might get answered if the elf called Ashemiem ever showed up. The meeting was agreed upon one moon ago between the drow and the grey elf priest. Both swore that they would come alone and that they would disarm as a gesture of fair dealing. The drow recalled Ashemiem’s words. “I will bring no mortal to this meeting, drow, but know that Corellon Larethian is with me.” Nilan couldn’t help chuckle when he heard these words. Vhaeraun too would be at the meeting, of that the assassin was certain. He knew that he would not be alone.

Hours passed before Nilan left the room and ventured down into the tavern portion of Jenna’s Way House. He spotted the grey elf priest almost immediately and cautiously approached. His white braid protruding from his black hooded cloak served as notice to the elf, though Nilan had little doubt the priest hadn’t felt his presence by some divine influence. Ashemiem approached but maintained a cautious distance. Nilan did the same, recalling when last time he and the priest crossed paths. It seemed lifetime ago at Deshana’s excommunication ceremony. His well thrown dagger piercing a crumpled note and stained with the blood of some sentry was imbedded in the bark of the tree mere inches from the Ashemiem’s head. Yet here they faced each other, each holding the other’s intent gaze.

It was Nilan that spoke first, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I have a private room, upstairs. Shall we speak there?”

“Lead the way, drow,” Ashemiem replied, never once taking his eyes off the assassin, as he followed him to the room.

Nilan entered the room first. After several paces in, the assassin turned to face the grey elf. He removed his hood, allowing his stark white hair to fall freely over one shoulder. Nilan then carefully removed his assortment of blades placing them on the bed. Ashemiem watched him intently. Nilan removed Shadow from it’s sheathe and the blade seemed to come alive in his hand. Whispering a prayer, the assassin placed the blade on the bed beside the others. Turning to Ashemiem he paused and nodded.

The priest of Corellon, lightly kicked the door shut and returned the nod. Nilan watched as the proud cleric removed a magnificently crafted two handed battle hammer leaning it against the wall beside him. Nilan stared at the hammer wondering how the elf could wield a massive weapon such as that. The assassin was impressed. For several seconds the two remained silent.

At first the two bantered about their selected beliefs and allegiances…… Ashemiem responded replying, “She is three goddesses merged into one, and rules as Corellon’s queen once she who became Lloth was cast out.”

Nilan merely shrugged, “I see…well,” he paused. “I have no allegiance to she who is Lloth, nor to the underdark where she claims to rule from.” The assassin leaned against the wall casually and continued, “but then….you already know this.”

The grey elf responded, “You worship the Son who betrayed the Father.”

Nilan narrowed his eyes. “No… I worship the Son who was betrayed by the Father, who dared take another woman into his arms!”

Ashemiem couldn’t help but smirk.

Nilan suppressed his anger, his red eyes softening somewhat as his right hand that was clenched in a tight fist began to relax. The drow whispered, “But again, this is not an issue between us.”

Ashemiem nodded before speaking. “I did not come here to listen to whatever excuses Vhaeraun makes for his betrayal. You mentioned you had a matter of the elves to discuss?”

Nilan ignored the sarcastic jibe, and spoke plainly, “I wish to discuss the moonblade known as Tahlshara.”

Ashemiem arched an eyebrow. “The blade Queen Amlaruil bears. Yes,” he paused gazing intently at the drow. “What of her?”

“I have done research on the blade. I admit that I am not allowed in the libraries of the elves, but I have made an inquiry, nonetheless. Though I confess, I do not understand the elven language most of the histories are penned in. Hence, I have asked you here.”

The priest folded his arms before him. “To what purpose, assassin?”

Nilan met his gaze, his eyes narrowed suddenly. “I do not intend to steal it if that’s what you hint at. I do it for what might benefit my people,…for what might benefit us in the coming war.”

Ashemiem stared at the drow and his shoulders began to shake. The priest failed to suppress a hearty laugh.

Nilan glared at the elf, his patience wearing thin. “I am no thief!”

Between the laughter, Ashemiem managed to respond in kind, “By all means, assassin, please do try to steal it. It would put you out of our misery for good.”

Nilan only stared at the priest waiting for the elf to restrain his laughter. “What do you mean by that?”

Chuckling softly Ashemiem grinned saying, “What I mean drow is that she would slay you. Quite painfully, I would hazard a guess.”

Nilan crinkled his nose in confusion. “She? Amlaruil?” he asked.

Ashemiem looked intently at the assassin, the smile fading from his face. “No , Tahlshara. Though Amlaruil, as the sole wielder of High Magic could likely eradicate you as efficiently.”

Nilan grimaced in disgust, “I do not desire to steal your precious blade, elf. I am already accused of defiling one elven relic. At the moment I see no need to make it a second.”

Ashemiem shrugged and the drow couldn’t help but detect the disappointment in his voice as he uttered, “A pity then. Why then does a drow research Tahlshara?”

“The blade is needed in the coming battle,” he paused choosing his next words carefully. “Does your, Amlaruil, plan on being at the battle to wield it herself.”

Ashemiem took a step toward the drow and stopped considering the words the assassin spoke. Thus far the drow had spoken bold words, bold words indeed. Ashemiem replied, “Alright,” he nodded. “If this isn’t simply just a drow’s treacherous desires and is indeed fact that you speak, then Tahlshara will ensure that she is there,” he paused before uttering, “when and where it is necessary.”

Ashemiem continued, “And as for the Lady, Amlaruil, she does not leave Evermeet any longer. More likely she and Tahlshara will choose a champion to serve.”

“You mean Tahlshara will choose who it will allow to wield her?” the drow asked.

Ashemiem merely nodded. “All true moonblades do.”

“Tell me about the moonblades,” Nilan asked intrigued.

The priest continued, “The true moonblades were a gift from the Seldarine, to help guide their children to do what needs doing. If Tahlshara is required at this grand battle you speak of, I have no doubts that she will be present, wielded by a chosen warrior of Tel’Quessir.”

Nilan nodded, “Then may I ask you a question regarding this moonblade? The one called Tahlshara?”

“You may ask,” Ashemiem responded in a matter of fact tone. “I won’t promise an answer, but I’ll permit you to ask.”

Again Nilan ignored the haughty remark. He needed no permission from this grey elf that stood before him to say or do anything. Still in an effort to learn information, the drow let the comment brush aside harmlessly. He continued, “May I ask how Tahlshara might come upon this so called chosen warrior? If only your Queen can wield it, is it possible that it will allow others to deliver it to this warrior?”

“Likely the warrior will be called to the Lady’s court and be presented with the moonblade,” came the reply.

Nilan shook his head. “But how does your Queen know the warrior, if it is the blade that will choose?”

Nilan could sense the priest’s growing ire. “Of course, I mean no disrespect.” Even as he uttered the words, he could tell they were not convincing.

Ashemiem glowered, “The Lady knows her people, assassin! And she is guided by the Seldarine in this task.” He took a few steps back and continued, “When the time comes, drow, and Tahlshara is needed, you need not doubt her presence when it is required.”

Nilan shrugged, “It seems obvious to me that the blade will choose the ranger Llandrien. Why then does he not try to wield it?”

“Tahlshara will choose the best hand for her task,” was all Ashemiem said.

Nilan switched his train of thought and added, “Correct me if I am wrong, but is Tahlshara the greatest elven relic?”

Ashemiem narrowed his eyes, “Tahlshara is mighty, but she is hardly our greatest relic.”

“What is then?” Nilan pressed further.

“That, drow, is not something I will tell you,” The priest glowered.

Nilan snickered, “Like it would matter if you did.” The assassin shrugged, “You said yourself that once I am judged guilty I shall receive death in the form of a single thrust from an elven blade. I hardly think what I learn in this battle can harm you.”

Ashemiem glared, “You could tell others, and you can tell your God when you see him. I will not betray our people’s secret. You have researched the blade. It is not terribly secret.”

Nilan switched the topic with practiced ease. “A great blade then. Its keeper is Amlaruil, the Queen of your people?”

Ashemiem chuckled, “Nobody is a moonblade’s keeper. If anything the relationship is the other way around.”

“Ah, my words are misplaced, then,” Nilan corrected. “The blade has chosen Amlaruil, then?”

“Yes,” came the curt reply.

“It is said the blade is of fine craftsmanship, light in weight, with runes extending down the blade itself.” Nilan asked earnestly.

Ashemiem responded with a nod, “Such is the same for any elven magical blade. The runes convey her name as well as some of her abilities.”

Nilan nodded intrigued, “I have never touched such a blade, nor even seen one up close.”

“No,” Ashemiem responded coldly, “You likely will only see them as they lie in a dead elf’s hand or as they come to take your life.”

Nilan let the remark pass without acknowledging it. In truth he heard every word. “Very well, priest,” the drow replied. “Will you convey a message to this, Amlaruil. Tell her that her blade is needed at the final battle. It must be kept safe until then and it must be at the battle.”

“Tahlshara alone shall determine if she is needed in this final battle, drow.” Ashemiem decreed. “Your words will do nothing to convince Amlaruil, nor the blade itself, of any need. The words and oaths of your treacherous kind can not be trusted, for they are not honored.”

The drow took a step toward the elven priest, and glared coldly, anger flashing in his red orbs. “You know the oath I gave, and you know I will honor it. If I run, I betray what I believe in. If a run like a coward, I will betray my people, and my honor.” The assassin held Ashemiem’s gaze without flinching. “I will not run, priest. Now I ask you, will you deliver the message?”

Ashemiem returned the drow’s gaze, “I will pass on the message to the court scribes. They can see the steward who will decide if it warrants the Lady’s attention.”

Nilan nodded, “Tell your scribes that baneite agents of the Vile One might also be seeking the blade. We have been attacked often, and such attacks are increasing.”

Ashemiem chuckled.

Nilan growled at the haughty elf, “Why do you laugh, priest? Do you think I jest?”

“They would meet the same fate as you would drow if you tried to steal the blade.” The priest of Corellon continued, “There is nothing to fear about Tahlshara’s safety, especially within the halls of Leuthilspar’s great palace.”

“And you are sure Tahlshara remains secure in the Queen’s palace?” Nilan asked.

“Yes,” came the reply.

Nilan nodded, “If it is indeed one of the only true god touched weapons in its original form since the last ancient battle with the Vile One, then it must never fall into enemy hands.”

Ashemiem chuckled again, “There is as much to fear of Tahlshara being stolen as there is of me taking, your …Shadow, from you.” He paused glancing at the blackened dagger resting upon the bed.

“But a god can touch it?” Nilan quickly responded.

Ashemiem’ eyes narrowed and he replied, “No god not of the Seldarine can enter Leuthilspar.” The priest continued, “The borders of Arvandor also ward our last refuge.”

Nilan nodded and folded his arms before him pleased with the information he had learned this night. “Then keep it safe, elf, but remember, soon it must leave Leuthilspar.”

Ashemiem eyed him intently, “Then drow, perhaps we shall see if Tahlshara can be touched by an evil god.”

With that, the priest of Corellon gathered up his hammer and uttered a word Nilan did not understand. Ashemiem faded from sight, leaving the drow to ponder the valuable information learned.

………Nilan only hoped that Vhaeraun would be pleased………