Little Things

Sunlight paved the way as the apprentice walked into the forest, knowing that her destination was now near. If one saw her from a distance, it was very unlikely that they would believe this elf to be Celysiel Ashfury. Strict black had been replaced by an ethereal white dress, hidden under a crimson, woolen shawl. Ill tidings had characterized the previous days, which made the fact that she had awoken after barely enjoying any sleep in quite good spirits. Perhaps it was because of whom she would visit.

She had been inspired to stop by the bakery first thing in the morning in order to fill her basket with a steaming loaf of bread, though her purchase made the basket look severely empty. Besides, the one she aimed to visit was quite a skilled cook; bread was something he could make for himself daily if he wished to have some to accompany his meal. Thus by the loaf were soon added various buns, filled with blueberry jam. There was the option of peach, though it seemed foolish to make such a purchase; after all, Lieutenant Adhemar could make some of his own whenever he desired, given his brilliant orchard. If he needed anything else, she could not know, for it had been a while since she had stopped spending her days at his guestroom. A new observation upon arrival though would let her know if there was anything she needed to bring him next time. Perhaps even tomorrow.

Carefully placed over the baked goods had been placed a linen napkin, so to separate the delicacies below from the gift above. At full bloom, the golden daylilies were growing just ouside the city's gates. She would not have cut them, she would not have denied them the chance to grow and prosper, but once at full growth, a flower could only wither after. They could at least live a while longer, serving as ornaments in the Lieutenant's house.

Drawing closer to her destination, the young girl was at first greeted by the orchard that she had admired upon visiting the Surveyor's house for the first time, something that had not changed with every visit that followed. The peaches of those trees she had tasted, since Irtheas had been kind enough to offer her some during great difficulties. The courier mysteriously seemed to always arrive the moment that despair reaches its peak, as if the Farstrider had a way of knowing when exactly to intervene. It was probably that reason that the visit to his house left Celysiel so happy and hopeful. It was impossible to explain, but visiting Irtheas left the same impression as if she would have been visiting her father, had he still been alive.

A golden ray broke through the canopies to reach the door of the Adhemar estate. Tiny motes of dust from the trees were dancing under the light, swaying as the breeze came, bringing along the scent of fruit and wet grass. It was a nice building, in a wonderful location. Almost like a second home, next to hers and that of Telthion. It was far from the city, therefore far from trouble and concerns. It had been a wonderful sanctuary once, one to remind the young elf of her long lost days of innocence, a beautiful childhood. Memories left a sweet taste in her mouth, even if Irtheas was not her parent, nor did she seek to replace her own with him. He just made her feel secure, since the day in Eraevin's dream. Like family.

The wooden perch creaked beneath her boots as she stepped onto it in order to reach for the door. Three knocks were placed on it, three times all things needed to be done. Gently, Celysiel then stood back, both hands meeting at her basekt as she waited for the familiar voice to tell her that the door was open. That she could enter.

No response came.

That troubled her. Like a curious cub, the young elf tilted her head to the side and took that step forward for once more. Three knocks were placed on the door, three times times all things needed to be done. But that would make it six. It did not feel right.

No invitation came.

No, it was certainly not right. For once more, Celysiel reached out, her hand meeting the wooden surface. Three knocks were placed on the door, three times times all things needed to be done. It was now nine. Nine was a good number, for it came in sets of three, each one of them containing three. That left her content. And with such good luck, surely the voice would call her now.

Irtheas never spoke.

It was only then that it became clear to her what felt so wrong about the house. The window. It lacked that dance of orange from within, the fire burning, next to which the young elf would otherwise be invited and asked to sit. No, the Lieutenant was not home. No, there was no telling when he would return. To wait would merely be foolish. It could take hours, especially if he had just departed.

To say that she was not disappointed would be a lie. Oh, but Celysiel hurried to scold herself for the childish sentiment, as well as seeking to steal moments from another's time. Besides, did it matter? The basket could remain there regardless even if she would leave, a gift for the one that would come to claim it upon his return. Quickly, an idea came to her mind. She lowered herself on the steps of the porch, while reaching for her journal with one hand. Her quill and a vial of ink always on her person with the other. Scribbling happily, the white-haired elf produced but a few words on the paper. No more were needed.

Surveyor Adhemar,

I hope you are well. I came to see you, but you were not present. I hope you are having a nice day.

With regards,

Celysiel Ashfury

PS: I hope you like blueberry jam.

The note was folded carefully, tucked under the daylilies. Satisfied with that small gesture, Celysiel finally put the vial of ink away and secured the quill, still wet and stained, into the precious journal, between empty pages. No, it was far from perfect. Regret's soft touches had lightly disheartened the apprentice, as well as those of disappointment, but the world was hardly ever as the young wished it to be. She could be patient. That is what she promised herself. Taking the path of return, she assured herself that a visit to the Lieutenant could come another day. Perhaps the next.

And then, she would bring another basket. With buns of cherry jam. Or strawberry. Or blackberry. There were so many options! Yes, she would bring him another basket the following day. And the day after. And the day after. Blissfully unaware at that very moment of her decision that all she would taste was bitter disappointment, for the baskets would accumulate and the Lieutenant's kind voice would not rise to invite her in the Adhemar estate.