Beginnings!

The sun is high in the sky, golden rays beating down on far flung fields of wheat and cattle. Pebbled tracks crunch underfoot as three figures make their way over the rolling green hills, far off in the distance a heavy blanket of woodland stretches as far as the eye could see.

The lead figure, a tall fellow with locks of mousy blonde hair, and bright blue eyes flecked with white as if the waves themselves were trapped within them. His strong jaw is covered in a light but full brown beard, a couple of shades deeper than his hair. Even underneath his heavy navy blue padded gambeson his well trained and muscled physique is noticeable, his heavy grey woollen breeches are tucked into a pair of black chausses, and metal plated boots that come up over his shins, speckled with dust and dirt from his long walk. On his hip is a finely made steel bastard sword, paired with an equally fine steel dagger, both elegant weapons for a man of his station held secure by an equally fine black metal with silver studs along its length.

A step behind him his companions walk, one a shorter young man with a mop of messy black hair tied back in a loose ponytail, his grey eyes taking in his surroundings with happy, naïve smile on his youthful, yet handsome face. Just like his leader, the young man wears a padded gambeson, though his own being a darker grey and lacking the sigil on the breast that his master has. Likewise he also carries a pair of blades, though very noticeably less ornate than his older counterpart, and his longsword being longer, and with a larger handle than his masters bastard sword.

Lastly, a youthful woman with bright green eyes and rich chestnut brown hair scans the horizon as she walks, her eyes constantly looking for threats and analysing any passing travellers with keen intent. A heavy green linen cloak rests upon her shoulders, under which she wears a light long sleeved white shirt, a somewhat worn brown brigandine protecting her torso, and rather ornate steel plated bracers protect her forearms. Her legs are hugged by a pair of padded breeches like her companions, and light thigh high reinforced boots with steel soles protect her long shapely legs. On her back, a rather large, and powerful black longbow is kept safe, and on her hips rest a plain one handed arming sword, and a quiver of arrows, a pair of daggers kept safe in the curve of her back.

“Hey! Is that Erlau!” The excited young man calls out, finger jabbing excitedly out towards the smoke cresting the next hill.

The blonde man walks with his hands behind his head, an absent minded look on his face as he nods, “Yeah, that’s Erlau boy. We’ll be there soon and finally have some decent beds, I’m sick of eating rations and sleeping in hedges” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck for emphasis.

“Wait... won’t Lady Elariel have trouble there, Sir Gawain?” The young man asks as he jogs forward in front of his master, looking back at him with worry.

“I’ll be fine, Peter” Elariel says in her usual soft spoken voice that she uses with the young lad.

“Yeah this far from major cities, and hopefully this close to The Forest of Oriel she won’t be pestered too much” Gawain adds nonchalantly, “Besides, if anyone does give her any trouble I suppose you’ll just have to put them in their place, lad” he grins and flashes the young man a teasing thumbs up.

Peter suddenly goes red, a look of shock on his face as he freezes.

“W-what? Me?” He gasps, making Gawain chuckle.

“He’s teasing you again, Peter. Pay your young Lord no mind.” Elariel sighs as she looks out over the fields. She’d joined the young Sir Gawain on his quest to rid the Village of Erlau of it’s Goblin Problem, the Adventurers Guild back at his hometown of Anhalt being the newest in the last five years, as such she knew next to nothing about the brash, and from her viewpoint, much too flippant young man. His squire Peter was a sweet boy by all accounts of his behaviour, though if his endearing nature was how he was all the time, or simply because she was a woman had yet to be determined in her mind.

Peter let out a relaxed sigh, mentally kicking himself for being led on so easily by his Lord, scratching his head as the trio crested the hill.

“Welcome to Erlau, Mighty Sir Peter” Gawain joked as he claps the boy on the shoulder, watching as Peters eyes sparkle with the excitement of his first adventure.

Although Erlau was really nothing to be impressed about. A couple of hundred people spread across so many farm-holds, centred around a smattering of a couple dozen houses that constituted the village. With little more than an Inn, Blacksmith, Trader, and Healers Hut, there wasn’t really a reason to come to Erlau, it’s main source of revenue being it’s cattle, wheat, and honey, which left the villagers very comfortable to be sure, but hardly wealthy. Still, for a 17 year old lad on his first adventure, the new experience must be exciting, especially considering the boy rarely had the chance to travel beyond the village.

“Peter, why don’t you go on ahead, see about getting us a room at the Inn whilst Lady Elariel and I find the Earldoman” Gawain nodded down at Peter, who began to run off, stopped, turned around and offered his Lord a quick, polite bow.

“Right away, Sir Gawain” he smiled, taking off again in a sprint.

Gawain returned his smile, coming to a stop as he overlooked the village with arms crossed over his chest. He couldn’t fault the lad, Gawain thought, he was eager, polite, had a good heart, and a good sword arm. He’d make a fine knight for his father one day.

“Surely the reverse would have been wiser?” Elariel asks as she looks sidelong at Gawain from under her green hood, her voice lacking the softness that she uses with Peter.

“Let him enjoy himself, we have the whole day here to relax before we head out” Gawain shrugs indifferently, “Or do you prefer his company to mine” he suddenly probes with a cheeky grin, making her brow furrow cutely at him, a subtle blush popping up on her cheeks.

“Oh shut up, he’s just a boy.” She seethes, crossing her arms and looking away from Gawain.

“I thought all Humans were children to you Elves” Gawain teases further as he walked on, Elariel matching his pace.

“You are. But he is a child, I am merely trying to be polite to him. They might only be goblins, but it’s still dangerous for one as young as him.” She explains, her voice frozen with cold anger.

“I know, I know!” Gawain laughed as he kept up his impish smile, “I merely wished you might be as polite to me, a man’s likely to get jealous you know, watching a beautiful maiden give such attention to a young man like Peter”

Elariel blushed a deeper scarlet, eyes momentarily going wide at the unexpected compliment from the utter pigheaded fool of a Lord.

“I am no ‘Maiden’ and I-“ she begins to retort before being cut off by Gawain

“What you slept with him already! By the gods woman that is positively hellish. They were right after all about evil elves swooping in under cover of darkness to steal the virtue of our children” Gawain exclaims with mock horror, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead for dramatic effect.

“Idiot! Cease your jibes, I have no time for them!” She snaps, turning away from him again as they enter the village proper. Her feet heavy upon the well worn tracks in a thumping fury.

“Oh? Is there some other important matter that needs attending to?” Gawain asks sarcastically, finger pressed to his lips as if in thought, feeling the anger wash over Elariel. He knew he shouldn’t tease her, but she was just so easy to rile up, and in his eyes, she seemed to have it in for him since they first met.

“Let us be about our business and be done with this. I have travelled but a few days with you, Sir Gawain, and already I have grown tired of your games.” Elariel snaps, following Gawain through the village her anger getting the better of her.

***

After winding their way through the little village in tortured silence, the pair arrived at the door of the largest house in the village, the home of Bartrand Thatcher, the village Earldoman. It was he who sent word to Gawain's father, Baron Frederich, asking for aid with the Goblins in the first place, what with the war going on he held little hope that his liege lord would be able to sort the problem, most of the fighting men making ready to march north, joining with the Kings Army to lead the charge against the Orc Horde that had amassed there, pillaging the Kingdom.

The door to the modest thatched wooden hut lay open, it was a mild day but the Earldoman left his door open for his people all the same, should they have need of him. As Gawain and Elariel crossed the threshold, they were greeted by an elderly man, his head bald, and a wispy grey moustache hung long upon his face. His body wiry and frail looking in his old age, but he smiled with a youthful excitement all the same.

“My my! Sir Gawain Von Arco hisself!” He calls out excitedly crossing the large main room to bow before his lords son.

“Bartrand is it not? A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Might my companion and I have some refreshment? Long days on the road have left our mouths parched” Gawain asks politely, the very image of the regal lord.

“Why o’course! O’course! Please take a seat, m’lord, I’ll see to it right away!” Bartrand nods enthusiastically as Gawain and Elariel cross to a large table set in the middle of the room.

It was a quaint cottage truth be told, a stone hearth off to the left flanked by two doors on either side, a nice table in the middle of the room with four chairs set around it, and off to the right was a large kitchen and a reading table with a half dozen books scattered across it. A door that led to the back garden of the cottage was in the far wall, and many shuttered windows allowed for plenty of natural light into the home. Yes, quite a nice home, Gawain mused, perhaps in another life he would have been very happy here.

As they crossed to the table, Gawain much to Elariel’s surprise, pulled her chair out for her allowing her to sit down before himself as Bartrand returned with three small brown clay mugs and a large jug full of sweet smelling mead.

Quickly serving the golden liquor to his guests, Bartrand waited for Gawain to sit before sitting himself, his eyes continuously flicking over to Elariel somewhat suspiciously as she sipped her drink.

“Elariel” Gawain said as she looked over to him, and he nodded to her hood, her eyes taking on a hesitant look as she subtly started to wring her hands under the table.

A few moments passed before she took her hood down, revealing chestnut locks tucked behind a pair of delicately pointed ears, not the fairy-like wide ears of her cousins the Wood Elves, but the regal, defined ears of her High Elven brethren. She swallowed another mouthful of her mead, crossing her legs and looking away, avoiding the shocked look on Bartrands face. Anger filling her at Gawain’s carelessness.

“A knife ear!” Bartrand gasped, Gawain could almost hear her perfect white teeth grinding, but paid it no mind as his fist crashed into the table with a mighty crack, the planks left with a visible dent.

“I will not tolerate such language, Mr Thatcher.” Gawain said, his voice uncharacteristically ominous. Elariel slowly turned her head in surprise, looking at Gawain’s face.

It betrayed no anger, not even irritation. No, his face was as still as stone, but in his eyes a fire seemed to blaze. A shiver ran up her spine.

“Lady Elariel has come here at my behest to help the people of Erlau. She is to be treated with the same kindness and respect as you would me. Is that understood?” His voice was cold as ice, the sudden threat of handing on every word.

Bartrands face blanched whiter than his hair, his hands shaking as he looked to the floor.

“A thousand ‘pologies m’lordship” Bartrand quickly uttered, “A foolish mistake of an ol’ man”

“See to it that it is the last. And make sure your people are made aware of this situation, for their actions will be seen as your own.” Gawain finished, hand sliding off the table to rest on the pommel of his dagger, Bartrand shaking like a leaf and nodding his agreement.

Elariel could only look on in mild amazement at Gawain. She most certainly wasn’t expecting him to be so firm, let alone so threatening from his demeanour after nearly four days together. She suddenly found herself rather puzzled by the man.

In quick order, Bartrand relayed all the information on the Goblins that were harassing his people; they hadn't killed anyone yet, instead the monsters had restricted themselves to merely stealing cattle and raiding grain silos for food, fleeing at the sight of any villagers despite a number of larger, more evolved Hobgoblins being amongst their number. It was a curious development for both Gawain, and Elariel, for it was rare that Goblins would avoid shedding blood, most seemed to revel in it.

Armed with this information, Gawain, and Elariel bid Bartrand farewell, leaving the old man to his business. Likely he was going to hastily run about the village insisting people leave Elariel alone, given how scared he was.

Elariel didn't pull her hood up again, a subtle confidence rising in her chest after how Gawain spoke earlier. Though she'd never dare tell the fool that.