She pointed to a deer trail following up a hill between the trees. “This. You’ve been away for a long time, Fandral.” She started up the trail, pausing to look back. Fandral stood there, frowning.
“I’ve kept up with my duties… What do you mean?”
Sintas smiled. “Come on. It’s a good spot, anyways.”
He sighed, placing one foot in front of the other at a slow pace. What does she want me to do? He frowned as soon as she turned away, continuing up the trail. She has explaining to do. That’s all I want. The two druids climbed the steep trail, brushing aside overgrowth. Fandral growled, losing his grip on a branch too soon to avoid a smack from the branch to the back of his head. He paused a moment, then lifted a hand up swiftly. The branches promptly raised themselves from his way, accepting his request. As he passed, they slowly lowered back to their original positions, obviously displeased with his command. Bah. Hurry it up, Sintas. Sintas looked back. “Impatient?” She smiled a bit, turning back to her destination at the top of the hill.
Fandral sighed. “I want an explanation. Soon, if it’s not too much of a bother for you.”
She smiled. “You’ll get an explanation. I promise. Just come on.” Sintas stepped carefully, trying to stay on the overgrown roots to avoid stepping on the smaller, more fragile foliage of the path.
Fandral glanced down to her curious steps, taking a moment to question the movements. Her feet were bare, and the roots couldn’t have been comfortable to walk on. He glanced over his shoulder. Dotted along the path were snapped stems and crushed leaves, following his footfalls. Then he remembered. The paths of Darnassus had grown on him. They were smooth, well-kept, and only slightly overgrown with mosses and vines. There was little enough fragile vegetation that he needn’t worry about his steps, but continue on his way. But here, in the wilds of Teldrassil, the tree he himself had led to the planting and careful nurture of, he had forgotten to watch what—and who—he tread upon. He looked to the path ahead, stepping on the roots as Sintas did.
Fandral enjoyed the outdoors, of course. Any druid did, any night elf, for that matter. The typical night elven house was open-air on at least one side, letting moonlight and fresh air in. His chamber, of course, was closed in for a reason: privacy during discussion. It granted privacy. It also gave him a place to be where others could easily find him when needed. But… It took a great deal away, as well. Druids were accustomed to wandering. Boxing one into a room did provide accessibility to others, but he was caged. This freedom he now felt had not been known for some time. After his duties had been performed for the day, requests had been heard, guests had been spoken to, and rituals had been performed, he was always so weary. So, to bed he went. Day after day. Teldrassil was no small responsibility, and though he knew it was largely his responsibility, well… He did not want to be the Archdruid anymore. A druid, yes. A thousand times yes. But not the Archdruid.
The roots beneath his feet were not all that uncomfortable. Moss growing on the rough exteriors of them provided ample cushioning, and unlike the delicate undergrowth below the roots, the moss sprang back into place after being trodden upon. He smiled to himself. Darnassus was a wondrous blend of the organic and the artificial, blurring the line between the two gracefully, but even the night elves’ organic living style could not compare to nature’s grace. He looked up, up to the tree canopy above. Trees within a tree, their branches interweaving and blending together into one fluttering mass of leaves and quivering branches. It was so beautiful.
What had he been angry for?
Broll. Sintas. Damnit.
Sintas glanced over her shoulder. Her companion’s head was lowered, a fitful expression on his face. I’ll get to the bottom of this soon enough, she thought. Oh, Fandral… Why can’t you just learn to take a moment and think before letting the wildfire consume your heart? She sighed, looking back ahead. They were almost at her favorite place to think, a place she had kept somewhat to herself. On the few days she lacked an assignment, she would come here, bringing a book with her to read among the forest’s boughs. She didn’t have many friends at the moment. They came and went, much as she herself did. Of course, she felt no ill will towards them for doing so, but at times, she missed the acquaintances she had made.
Sintas frowned to herself. Hm. Acquaintances. Most of them being insufferable men who decide I am the perfect girl to cling to. She smiled a bit in spite of this. Referring to herself as a “girl” was correct, but the young connotation of the word still caused her to think twice of herself. Had she really grown up yet? She certainly hoped not. Taking herself seriously as an adult usually led to trouble and more self-examination.
Fandral looked up from his careful steps for a moment, noted the fact they hadn’t yet reached their destination, and looked back down. When had it been? Only about a year ago that Broll had finally returned from obscurity? That was it? Just one year. That was all it took for him to crush Fandral’s hopes. He scowled. I dearly hope that I am wrong. This has been in my consideration for far too long for him to simply dash in and—Wait… What if they knew each other before? Could it be? His busy mind failed to notice the edge of Sint’s kilt before his feet, bumping into her as she stood on the path. He looked up, confused. This was not an area he remembered visiting before…
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