Blackblade 12.5 - What Are You Afraid Of?

"Fine, I'll take the midnight watch," Raito said dispassionately. In the same breath, he turned over his shoulder and added, "Yomiel, you're taking my midnight watch." The Leshrved rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Watches were assigned amongst the group; they weren't so important yet, seeing as how they had just left Renick that morning, but Shirley wanted them to get into a routine. Several people suspected she just wanted to ensure everyone's competence before they reached the mountains proper. Regardless, no one complained. 
----
It was midnight. The weather was clear and warm, and they camped near an old road in an open field. Nothing stirred besides the odd rodent in the grasses. Shirley sat a short distance from the group, occasionally changing her position, while Yomiel had done nothing more than sit upright in his bedroll; both appeared to be engrossed in their own devices, but it wasn't as though there was much to watch for anyways. Ridley, on the other hand, was watching very intently, albeit not the road, sky or field. Caelan had noticed it all day: he was being watched, and it had become increasingly obvious throughout the day that the elf had been giving him more and more silent attention. Now it was the middle of the night, and without even looking, he knew that Ridley's oddly violet eyes were trained on him.
Ridley waited until Caelan, in his trained and responsible way, turned to watch another angle of the camp. Taking great pains to move silently, he stole up behind the northman, barely disturbing a blade of grass. He brought himself up almost against his shoulder unannounced and whispered in his ear, "What are you so afraid of?" 
Ridley's actions were rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as the northman visibly stiffened. After a long moment he tersly replied, "Nothing that should concern you, noiadi." His words were accompanied by the sound of a blade being resheathed as he turned to face the elf, eyeing him warily.
Ridley pulled back far enough so that they weren't touching, but hovered percariously close to the border of Caelan's personal space, standing so that his face was leaned in closer than the rest of him. "Oh, but you've been looking so nervous all day," he said, his tone and expression tinted with mock concern, never breaking eye contact. "If there's something to be worried about, I'd so very much like to know what it is."
Caelan narrowed his eyes at this, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "If there was something you, or anyone else here, needed to be worried about, I would let you know." He swallowed as he held Ridley's gaze, unwilling to be the first to look away.
A grin spread across the elf's face, an unsettling one at best, underscored by the unbroken stare. "Well, that's good to hear. From what the lovely Shirls has said, the frightening things won't start crawling out for a few days yet. No sense getting all flustered for nothing; it'll ruin your complexion." 
His lips pressed into a thin line at Ridley's unending stream of subtle mockery, sarcasm colouring his own retort, "Yes, because my complexion is one of my chief concerns."
Ridley tilted his head, and took on a more inquisitive expression. "You used a fancy word...'noiadi'? Can't say I've heard it before. Is that something from the cold, cold north?" Despite the changes in his voice and mouth, the expression in his eyes had never once faltered or softened, not from the moment Caelan noticed him watching earlier.
Caelan regarded the elf blankly for a long moment before answering, his voice quiet, "Yes, it is. I recognize your power and position, even if the rest of this party doesn't," as he spoke his eyes flicked downward, breaking contact for just a split second.
This got a chuckle from Ridley, who brought his fingertips to his mouth in a polite yet dramatized gesture. "Power and position? Well deary me, I'm just a humble elf of the Cor, member of the Ember Gang. Whatever sort of power and position do you think I have?" Though the sarcasm was more obvious, his gaze had softened somewhat; he had won the moment Caelan's eyes twitched down.
The northman did his best to supress a scowl, growing tired with Ridley's tone. Still, when he spoke his tone was decidely harsh, "I believe we both know the answer to that perfectly well. I suppose you just want to hear me say it out loud though?" He fell silent, steadfastly holding the elf's gaze again.
"Ooh no, I'm sorry, I've gone and made you upset," he pouted. His tone was apologetic as he continued, "All I wanted was to know what had you so nervous. Everyone else seems cheery enough, even the kids, considering their circumstances." He was not fazed by the northman's edge; Ridley's interest was not one to be piqued by anger.
Caelan ground his teeth and looked away, this time not returning his gaze to meet the elf's, "Everyone else is young, inexperienced, or some combination of the two." His tone took on a slightly bitter tinge, "I appreciate your...concern...but really it is nothing for you to bother yourself over. I am certain you have more important things to be doing." He allowed his eyes to scan the borders of the camp.
"In the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere? Hardly." He sighed dramatically, "But you're obviously in no mood for idle conversation. I suppose I shall leave you be. You take your guarding very seriously. Though..." he added, his tone becoming softer, more insidious, "you must be awfully uncomfortable, keeping your guard up all the time. Even people who've trained their whole short lives have a difficult time of it. Trying to protect everything all the time. Makes people stressed. Makes them...miss things." His eyes were cold, knowing. "Careful you don't let anything...slip through the cracks." With an immediate and jarring shift, he smiled sweetly. "Pleasant eve!" he chirped, and swished back to sit beside Jack's sleeping form.
Caelan offered no response whatsoever, now keeping his gaze pointedly away from Ridley's, his eyes scanning the camp slowly, a pale imitation of calm. He turned away as the elf left, staring into the darkness outside their camp. It was only then that he removed his hands from his pockets, looking down at them disdainfully. They were shaking.
----
"There you go, girl." With a grunt, Caelan heaved off the last of Kirsikka's saddlebags, dropping them in a heap with the rest. He was pleased: his relationship with the mare seemed to be steadily improving. Perhaps one day they'd actually be a decent team...he could only hope so. He loosened her bridle by a few notches to allow her to graze, not that the forage was great this far up the foothills, but every little bit counted. Giving her an amicable pat on the neck, he headed off to help set up camp, not bothering to tie or hobble her anymore, confident in the knowledge that she would not wander off.
It was some time later that the great horse's nostrils flared, and she raised her head from nibbling at the sparse shoots that covered the area. Scenting the air, she turned turned her head in the direction of the now familiar smell. With a snort and shake of her head, she headed off across the camp to find its source, greeting him via a friendly nudge to the shoulder with her muzzle.
"Hmm?" Ridley turned about and was a bit taken aback by the sudden presence of the large equine. "Oh! Well, hello," he offered pleasantly. "I don't believe we were properly introduced, not that it probably matters. I can't say I've dealt much with animals." He was a bit uncertain as to what to do with his hands, but it didn't look like she was about to trample him or somesuch thing, so he stood his ground. "Am I supposed to converse with horses? I really don't know, I've never met one. But I'm fairly certain I've heard people call you 'Kirsikka', so I suppose that's your name."
Offering a soft nicker by way of response, followed by another nudge, this time to his chest, she set to sniffing at him, eventually settling on his head as the source of the delightful aroma. Pressing her muzzle against his hair, she wiggled her lips, trying to determine if there was anything delicious to be had.
"Oh, hmm, yes, well," he muttered as she investigated him, still not particularly certain as to what he should be doing. When she settled on his hair as the point of interest, he carried on conversationally, "You know, while I appreciate the attention, I do go to great lengths to keep this looking...well, decent. Not really going to get much better with the bleach in it, but still, I try." He tried to deek his head about, but she was persistant. "Alright, you like my hair. Not...quite certain why you would...OH!" He smiled, "Oh, you like the smell! Apples, I'm pretty certain horses like apples. Hold on then," he said as he knelt down and pulled over his bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out another, bright green bag from inside of it, and from within that, a large iron pot. He placed it on the ground and said conspiratorially to Kirsikka, "Now, this will be our secret, alright? If the others want to use my goods, they'll have to pay like everyone else." He tapped lightly on its side and muttered something in the arcane language. Reaching in, he produced a perfect green apple and proffered it to her. "But we're friends, so this can be on the house."
The mare pricked her ears and leaned forward, watching with slightly wary curiosity as Ridley began fiddling with his bags and pot, letting out a sharp snort when he produced a lovely apple. Reaching out she sniffed at it before delicately biting it in two, nickering with pleasure once again. Yes, this fellow was wonderful.
Across the camp, Caelan turned to explain the finer details of tracking to Vol. "And see, if you look here," he pointed to the faint boot print in the soil, "you can tell that he was..." he trailed off, looking past the boy at his  horse, a faint, confused frown colouring his expression. He gave his head a quick shake and returned to the task at hand, still keeping an eye on the other two.
Ridley stowed his belongings back into his main bag. "Now, don't go getting sick or something. I don't know the particulars of your diet." He tentatively stroked Kirsikka's muzzle, "I suppose I should ask someone before I give you more. Maybe I'll bother Aiden later, he hasn't been bothered in a bit. Did you meet him? He's a bit of a boring chap, but he won't get pissy that I'm not giving away my supplies for free, will he?" He nodded his head definitively, "You're a good horse. Can't say I have any real comparison point, but I'll stand by my claim."
Vol noticed Caelan's eyes drifting back and forth. "Umm...is there something wrong?"
Caelan shook his head slightly, "No....I don't think so...just...watching Kirsikka..." returning to the tracks before them, he encouraged Vol to try to follow them, knowing their trajectory would take them close to Ridley and Kirsikka without being particularily obvious.
Kirsikka placidly crunched on the apple, nodding her head happily. Content to remain in the elf's company, she dropped her head to search for more grazing, flicking an ear in his direction occasionally as he chatted.
"Well, I don't care if you don't know, ask someone who does...I already told you why...No, I'm not going to...Because it will ruin the joke...well, you don't have a sense of humour," Ridley carried on with his one-sided conversation with the air as Kirsikka milled about. His off-handed gaze happened to fall on the figures of Caelan and Vol wandering not too far off. "Ooh, I have to go, pleeeeease just look that up?...Thank you!" Ridley gave the ring on his left hand a twist with his thumb. As subtly as possible, he sized up the pair: the boy was engrossed with something in the dirt and the northlander was watching the boy, but every minute or so, his eyes would quickly flick over towards his horse and back. Ridley smiled to himself and walked over to Kirsikka, crouching down towards her face while she grazed. "Your silly friend is coming over here to check up on us. How suspicious do you think we can make him?" He carried on, quietly conspiring with the mare.
He watched the elf drop into a crouch next to Kirsikka, saying something that the northman couldn't quite make out, the horse responding with a snort and flick of her ear. When they were within a reasonable earshot, Caelan had Vol pause next to an irregular footprint, asking the boy, "So what do you think happened here? Why did he step like that?" He was only half listening to his reply, his ears trained more keenly on the exchange taking place between his horse and Ridley.
Gauging their approach, Ridley waited until he knew the northman must be able to hear. In a voice that was at the same time whispered and perfectly audible, he began to speak in the Orcish language, reciting the process for distilling a particular alcoholic beverage enjoyed by the nomadic tribes. He kept his tone even, but tried to keep an air of secrecy about his words as he talked to Kirsikka.
An unsettled frown crept across Caelan's face as he caught Ridley's words. The unfamiliar dialect was disturbing enough, he'd never heard anything like it before, but the tone was what really set him on edge. He swallowed slightly and pretended to be engrossed in Vol's attempt to explain the tracks, his mind searching through the possibilities of what the elf might be up to.
Ridley finished the recipe then, placing his hand on Kirsikka's neck, he said in all seriousness, "And remember, you can't tell him, or anyone else, anything. What we did here today is our secret." He stood up and added, "I'll talk to you again soon, I'm sure." He started to walk away and made a show of looking about. His eyes fell on Caelan; he gave him an inscrutable look for the briefest of seconds, then smiled and waved at the pair of them. "Good afternoon!" he called over, then wandered off in another direction, perfectly pleasant.
The northman felt the colour drain from his face at this, and looked up in their direction, an expression of unease colouring his face. Finding his gaze met by Ridley's, he hastily tried to compose himself. Watching the elf walk away, he did his best to ignore the anxiety bubbling up inside of him. This was going to be a long trip if it kept up this way.
-----
Later that evening, Ridley approached Jack with a smile. "Guess what I learned today?" he asked with all exuberance.
"That sleeping on rocks is terrible for the back?" he replied with dry good-nature.
"Pfft, you're a slow learner, I picked that one up days ago. No, today I learned that I..." he paused for effect, then said with dramatic certainty, "am an animal person."
Jack smiled, "Really now?" Ridley nodded. "Is this why you've got Aiden complaining to me that you're making him learn what horses eat?"
Ridley rolled his eyes in mock sheepishness, "Maaaybe."
With a laugh, Jack added, "Wouldn't that make him the animal person?"
----
"So, you said your mother's name was Ara? Lilivale Ara?" Ridley asked with no introduction. It was the dead of the night again, four days into their journey. The hills were getting steeper, the ground rougher, and Ridley had been discomforting Caelan for his amusement far more than politely reasonable. He hadn't said anything of note to him since the first night, but had rather contented himself with uncomfortable eye contact, strange glances, and an unlikely friendship with Kirsikka, who had gotten into something of a habit of coming to him, for reasons that Caelan could only guess at but which really amounted to clandestine fresh produce. Unfortunately, sitting up all night in the wilderness with his current company did little to maintain the elf's interest; he stole up on the northman when his attention was elsewhere, and tried for conversation again.
The northman flinched hard at the sound of Ridley's voice, more due to who it belonged to than anything else. He turned to regard the elf, a slight wariness colouring his expression, "Uh...yes, yes it is. Why?"
"So what's her story? Why'd she leave the infinite comforts of proud, sunny Rio?" he replied. His conversational tone sounded neither confrontational nor mysterious, which after the last few days was a little unnerving in itself.
Caelan regarded him uneasily in silence for a long moment before replying, his tone flat and reserved, "So far as I know, because she hated it, everything about it. Said it was bland and fake. Never talked much about it." He continued to eye the other man somewhat suspiciously.
He gave a small huff with his response, "Well, that`s a bit boring. Completely understandable, but boring." He rolled his eyes slightly and added cryptically, "I suppose it's not surprising, given how boring the rest of her family is."
He responded with a slight shrug, "Yes, that was the impression she gave me; that everything in Riolythe was either boring or ridiculous." His curiosity piqued, he allowed himself to relax slightly, harbouring a faint hope that perhaps they might be able to hold a normal, non-terrifying conversation. After a moment, he continued, "...do you know the rest of the family well at all?"
A grin spread across Ridley's face. "I might. Vernonia. Osmanthus. Notholirion. Hibbertia. Your mother might not know Hibbertia. And Vin Malvastrom. Whole boring family, wrapped up in their boring lives, full of boring secrets and boring lies." As he listed the names, he opened up his bag, pulling out a brown bag from within, and from that, a cloth folding chair that he perched upon. He sat, resting his chin conversationally on the back of his left hand, crossing his legs. "So if Rio isn't to her taste, what has your mother found up in the north that she finds interesting? Besides your daddy, obviously."
He grunted at the collection of bizarre names, watching closely as Ridley fiddled with his bags, "Mmmh, she has her farm, all of her children, as many northmen as she likes, the hunting is good..." he shrugged once more as he spoke, "I suppose she just likes all of it better? Its about as different from Riolythe as one can get..." he paused for a moment, "...so who is who?...who belongs to which name?"
Raising an eyebrow, he exclaimed, "All of her children? How many is 'all' ?" Leaning back, he continued, "And well, Vernonia's your grandmom. Osmanthus your grandad. Notholirion is Lilivale's older brother, Hibbertia her younger sister. That's why she might not know her; I don't know when she was born relative to her skipping town. And Malvastrom is the poor, sad hubby who she left behind." He cocked his head a little and remarked questioningly to himself, "Don't know what that would make him to you. Probably nothing."
"Living or total?" He continued without waiting for a reply, "There are seven of us right now, since I was last home, but counting those who have left this realm, fifteen." A look of suprise flitted across his face. "Husband? I didn't know she...huh...go figure..."
"Oh yeah. They marry us off at 21, to whomever they think is a good breeding match." He said flippantly. "It's an entire family's job, matching people. She didn't bugger off quick enough to escape that." Ridley gave a low whistle, "15. And she's probably still having them." He gave a chuckle, "And people in Rio actually wonder how half-elves are such a thing in Asanon." Crossing his arms behind his head, he continued, "So, between screwing northmen, you said she farms? What do you farm up in the snow?"
"...hmm....I see..." his expression was pensive as he cast his gaze about the camp, still keeping watch in spite of their conversation, he returned his gaze to Ridley at his next question, regarding him silently for a long moment before answering. "Goats. She raises goats, other families have reindeer, a few, like my father raise horses. Livestock does well enough up there." He paused for a second, "What are they like? Aside from 'heinously boring', I mean."
He tapped his chin, his expression thoughtful. "Adjectives that aren't 'boring'...hmmm...Kyn Vernonia. She's...harsh. Strict with herself and everything around her. Practices a lot of martial dances. Ara Osmanthus is," he gave a snort, "well, my first choice would be 'pathetic', but if I'm going to keep this polite I'll go with 'introspective'. Makes paints and dyes. Kyn Notholirion is driven, almost obsessive. Sword arts, and I do mean 'art'; he's a pushover when it comes to actually fighting. And frankly I haven't really dealt with Ara Hibbertia. I'm pretty sure she does a lot of delicate craftwork. Lace and things." He grinned wolfishly, "Osmanthus is a particularly prolific buyer of mine. And Notholirion learned where not to stick his nose."
A derisive snort escaped the northman, 'Sword arts, eh? But can't actually fight? Why bother..." he shook his head and allowed him to continue "Oh?" Caelan cocked his head slightly, "And just what sort of wares would a 'pathetic', 'introspective' man want from someone like yourself?"
Ridley laughed, "Come now, you can't possibly convince me that they don't have depressed drunks up in the north.  You can find them everywhere. Rio would just rather not admit that they have them too." He shrugged, "Alcohol's an easy sell, but he particularly likes the stronger stuff, in a sizable quantity. Good buyer. Pathetic man." He changed the topic. "So, do most people up there farm? I wouldn't have guessed that."
"True," he conceeded. "I suppose I can see that" He shook his head, "No, a fair few do, but by far the majority work in the mines and smithys. There's a fair bit of logging too. And always a good portion of us out on the Wall, but most are transient there and go back to other jobs after a few years."
He looked interested, "What's the Wall, and why does it need people on it?"
Caelan looked at him in silence for a long moment, then turned to scan the area. Eventually he heaved a sigh and replied, "The Wall of The North. It blocks off a mountain pass near the northermost tip of the Seldarins, a few miles from Gaivoutna. Keeps the hobgoblins from crossing over to this side and causing trouble. We maintain a constant guard to ensure that's the case; it's the duty of my tribe."
"That sounds very serious," he replied. "Are you one of the people who stayed longer? If most people are part-timers, like you said."
The northman glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before nodding stiffly, "Fourteen years, and counting."
Ridley considered this for a moment, then ventured, "Something pretty important must have forced them to send you down here then."
He shot a quizzical look at the elf for a second, then shook his head. "Important, yes, but I left of my own accord. More or less, anyway. They didn't have anything to do with it."
"Really now? Huh. Did you tell your mother and father about it, at least? Most parents get relatively upset when their children wander away." Ridley made a wry look, "I'm reasonably certain Osmanthus can attest to that."
A steely look crossed Caelan's face, "That isnt particularily any of your business." he paused for a moment before conceeding, "But no. I did not." A slight tinge of caution was beginning to creep back into his manner.
Ridley raised his hands in an apologetic gesture, "That's fair. It's not like I told mine any. Though in my case, my parents didn't fall into the previously-mentioned 'most'." He looked around, as though searching for a different topic. His eyes landed on Kirsikka, resting some distance away. "So you have a very nice horse. Did you raise her?"
An odd, crooked smile crossed Caelan's lips, not touching his eyes, "She is lovely, isn't she? I can't say I had you of all people down as a judge of horseflesh, though." The smile faded and he shook his head. "But no. She's one horse I had no hand in raising. If I had, she wouldn't be half so sour as she is." After a moment, he mused " She has taken a liking to you, for some reason."
Ridley shrugged offhandedly, "Well, I can't say I know any sort of specifics regarding them. I wouldn't know a technically good horse from a bad one. But I can tell that she's a gorgeous specimen; you don't have to have knowledge to appreciate beauty. And what can I say," he grinned, "ladies of all species must find me irresistable." He looked over to her again, "She's very well-trained too. You can call her sour, but I have seen some horridly-ill mannered beasts out in the plains, and even the cities. If it wasn't you who reared her, who did?"
"Yes, well, you didn't see her when we left. Almost killed me on the way to Ksatkia. But she's getting better, that's what matters..." He turned his gaze to the mare, his expression softening as he spoke. "She is brilliantly well trained, bright and responsive, and clever, my word...and her movement...ahh, she floats..." He trailed off and shook his head, "My father; she's his pride and joy, bred, raised and trained by him."
"She must be one of the finest horses in your tribe. It's a shame that she's a bit stubborn with you." Ridley leaned forward a bit, his voice soft. "I wonder though...you say that she was particularly balky when you left...and that she's your father's horse...and that you didn't tell your parents that you were leaving..." A sly grin spread across his face, "Did you tell your daddy that you were borrowing his best horse?"
Caelan turned to face him, looking down at him with an expression that was all ice and iron, with a glimmer of something else...contempt? When he replied, his voice was soft, but his tone dared the elf to make something of it, "And so what if I didn't?"
Ridley still smiled, "So what indeed. You said yourself that it's not my business what you do." Though his manner was light, his violet eyes mockingly returned the challenge; he would not be the first in, but he would be the last out. "It's not my place to judge, condemn or applaude. I just...like to get to know people," he said softly. "I like to know what they do, why they do it, how and when. What they do when they think no one is watching. Why they do things they think are wrong. Why they think they're wrong. Why they think they're right." He looked more deeply, "I think I know you a little better now."
Caelan met his gaze unflinchingly, "No doubt you do, comrade." That funny little smile once again crossed his face,"No doubt you do. I hope you are mostsatisfied."
"Eh. Most satisfied would be a bit of a stretch." He shrugged, breaking eye contact and ignoring Caelan's somewhat sinister tone. "I haven't gotten laid in over a week, I've pulled muscles from hiking I forgot I had, and I think I'm getting a tan, which is not going to go well with my current hair colour." He smiled cheerily, "But I did enjoy our conversation, yes. You don't particularly look like you want to continue, though."
He continued to regard the elf silently for a long moment, his expression shifting subtley with his emotions, finally replying. "I have had my fill, yes." He looked at the elf for a moment longer before abruptly turning and heading off to take up watch at the opposite end of camp.
Ridley shrugged, settled back in his chair, and pulled a book out of his seemingly-infinite number of bags, reading it with nothing but the dim starlight to illuminate the words.
As he stared out into the darkness, Caelan stewed over their conversation, replaying bits of it in his mind, searching for words, expressions, movements that may have been missteps. He knew he'd be at it all night, and that come morning he'd only feel more unsettled, not less, but there was nothing for it. At any rate, he figured some good had to have come of it; he was pretty sure that he'd learned just as much about Ridley as the elf had about him.
----
It was the middle of the night when Yomiel approached Ridley with neither stealth nor announcement. The elf looked up from what he was doing to regard him. Yomiel said nothing, but rather held out a strange-looking mask in one hand and made a few gestures with the other. Ridley turned and regarded him with a look of exaggerated thought. "Well...I don't think you're giving this to me, so...you want to...sell it?" he worked out. Yomiel nodded. Ridley shrugged, "I don't know, I don't exactly deal in art. Plus, no offense, but it's tacky, and I'm from Riolythe, so that's saying something." The Leshrved rolled his eyes and put the mask on. As he did, it appeared to melt into his very face, leaving no trace or change. "That's...a thing it can do..." Ridley stated, still not impressed. Yomiel held up his finger in a 'wait' gesture, then whispered a subtle command word. Immediately, it appeared as though the very skin peeled off his face, revealing a grim and terrifying visage of muscle and bone beneath. Ridley flinched and called out, but managed to keep from screaming or panicking. As the skin retracted over Yomiel's face, Ridley laughed. "That is the stupidest, weirdest thing I have seen in years! Mothers, the things some people do with magic." Yomiel removed the mask and offered it out again, his expression expectant. "Yeah, sure. I'm not paying much for that, it's not particularly useful..." Yomiel threw both hands up in the air in a motion of resignation. Ridley rummaged through his things. "I can give you...no, that's too valuble...no, I need that..." He pulled out a stoppered purple, pleasingly-shaped glass bottle, roughly the size of a milk bottle. "I'll give you this for it? I've got about six of the things." Yomiel inspected the object. When he removed the stopper, a very slight breeze could be felt coming from it, scented lightly of lilac. "Yeah, it seems pointless, but it's enchanted, rich people like 'em, and it'll be worth more to you in Yeto than cash, since I don't think they use the same stuff." With a exasperated shrug, Yomiel passed over the mask and took the bottle. With a curt bow of his head, he turned and left. When he was gone, Ridley looked over the mask, then over at Caelan. He grinned, "Let's see if I can get my money's worth."
Hours later, it was time to pack up camp. Everyone else had finished their morning rituals, their breakfasts, and were finishing packing up their gear.
"Someone wake up Caelan," Shirley called over from where she was attending to Morgan.
"Oh! Me, me," Ridley skipped over to where the northman peacefully napped, getting the few hours of sleep that would refresh him for the rest of the day. He leaned right down, bringing his face barely an inch from Caelan's nose. "Heeeeeey," he whispered, just enough to cause the sleeper to stir. He repeated this until Caelan's eyes fluttered open. Ridley smiled and uttered the command, activating the mask. "Boo."
The northman's brows knit together for a moment as his eyes strugged to focus. "....huuuuh....?" When Ridley's face came into view, so close to his own, he grimaced and recoiled slightly. He made to ask what the hell he was doing, but his words were lost in an ungodly scream when skin appeared to peel off the elf's face. In a single motion, he flung himself upright and scrambled backwards, a look of abject horror splashed across his countenance.
Ridley dodged out of Caelan's path, letting him run. He rolled over in paroxysms of laughter as everyone else in the camp scrambled about, trying to figure out what was going on and what they were under attack by. Once the initial shock had passed, everyone tried to settle back down. Shirley and Jack in particular focused on the histerical elf, whose mask had receeded into invisibility before anyone else could see it. The ranger was upset, to say the least, "What in the names of the gods of earth and heaven was THAT about?!" Ridley couldn't stop laughing to reply. "Do you want to give our position away to everything on the planet??" 
Ridley tried his best to compose himself. "Li-lighten up," he stammered between giggles. "We're not..not in the danger zone yet."
Shirley gave him a dirty look, "You are an immature idiot, and you're going to get everyone killed."
Ridley, still giggling and wiping tears away, replied, "You're an uptight bitch, and I don't envy your job." With a bit of a sneer, Shirley turned and left, trying to calm down the startled animals. Ridley, still chuckling, stood up and added, "Ahhh, Mothers, that was worth it."
When she was gone, Jack turned to his friend, "Seriously, though, what the fuck was that?" 
Ridley popped off the mask and showed it to him, "I wanted to try out my new toy. Makes it look like your face peels off. Creepy as fuck, can't imagine who'd make it."
Jack looked at the ugly mask, "Where'd you get it, and why did you feel you had to use it to give the northman a heart attack?"
"Got it from him," he gestured his head in the direction of Yomiel, "Traded it for one of those scented bottles. One useless trinket for another." He slid the mask back on, "And really, you need to ask? That guy is so jittery, you could mix drinks by passing him a glass. Unless you'd rather I'd have done it to the kid?"
Jack sighed, "Warn me next time so I don't ALSO have a heart attack." He started to walk away, "And try to lay off until we're in Yeto. I don't want to get abandoned in the woods because of your sense of humour."
Ridley made a mock salute, "Roger! Don't piss off the ranger." He glanced over at Shirley, "...Any more."
Caelan, meanwhile, stood for a long moment where he had stopped, still staring at Ridley with an expression somewhere between disgust and terror. When he had gathered his wits, he went to collect Kirsikka from Shirley, who had managed to settle both her and Morgan. Rather than tacking her up immediately, as he normally would, the northman dropped his head against her broad neck and stood there for quite some time, trying to calm both his breathing and shaking. "I don't know, mare..." he mumbled to her as he took hold of her reins and lead her over to their gear "I don't know...I just...ugh..." He set to work tacking her up, muttering and shaking his head all the while.
----
It was a few nights later, during the last watch of the night that Caelan put his plan into action. Admittedly it wasn't ideal, but at this point it was all that he could think of to do. The elevation had been getting higher, the plant life more sparse; they would be entering the mountains proper in the next day or so. He couldn't have this nonsense continuing, not in a place where the spirits walked so readily, it was far too dangerous. Now granted, things had been quieter since the...face incident, but nevertheless.
Waiting until Broken Tusk took up position on the far side of the camp, he gathered up his things, pulled his hat down low over his face and made his way to where Ridley sat paging disinterestedly through a book. He stopped and stood before the elf in polite silence, eyes respectfully downcast, and waited for his presence to be acknowledged.
Ridley's eyes flicked up. Seeing Caelan standing there, he snapped the book shut with one hand. "Well hello! What can I do for you at this uncivilized hour in the morning?" he intoned enthusiastically. He tossed the book lightly into his open bag and sat back, looking up at him.
The moment Ridley spoke, the northman dropped to one knee before him and presented a small bundle, loosely wrapped in a fresh pelt, balanced on his outstretched palms. "I have come to ask a favour of you, noiadi. Please accept this gift, unfitting though it may be." His voice was soft and formal, and as he spoke, he kept his eyes downcast.
"Uhhhoookay," he was a little taken aback at the formality, but didn't immediately make light of it. He took the bundle respectfully enough; he held it lightly in his hands, unsure of whether this was something that was supposed to be opened. "What's the favour?"
"I humbly ask that you cease channeling kojoote and korropi, at least until we have passed over these mountains." he paused and took a deep breath, "I do not mean to infringe upon your work, or your right, but I feel that it would be dangerous to continue as you have been in this place."
Ridley considered him for a moment, then replied with all due seriousness, "I apologize, but I don't recognize the words you're using. Would you mind explaining, for sake of clarity? I'd rather not make assumptions in what's obviously a serious matter."
At this, Caelan raised his gaze to meet the elf's, dropping his hands to rest on his knee, he explained ernestly, "We will soon be entering a place where the borders between our world and the world of the spirits grows thin. Until now, you have been doing the work of two trickster spirits, and I do not question it, for I trust that one such as yourself knows better than I in these matters." His gaze dropped once more, and with it, his voice faded almost to a whisper. "I must ask you to stop, please, if only until we are over the mountains."
He took a moment to consider the request. "That's reasonable," he conceded. "If it's going to get half as bad as Ms. Grey is suggesting, it would behoove me not to make matters more complicated." He gave a slight grin, "At any rate, I was really only bothering you because you never answered my question."
At that his gaze snapped back up to meet Ridley's, his expression one of bewilderment "...What?...What question?...When...?"
"I only wanted to know," he said innocently as he leaned in towards him, "what you're so afraid of."
"Would you like the full list, the top ten, the top three? Is there something specific you're looking for?" he offered a pathetic attempt at a smile, " 'Cause we could stay here till high noon, if you want it all."
Ridley chuckled and sat back, "No, no, it's fine. I'll leave you be, I've had my fun." He looked a tad thoughtful, "Or maybe they have." He smiled, "We can all be finished here."
Caelan regarded him in silently for a while before bowing his head deeply, the antlers of his hat almost brushing the ground. "You have my deepest gratitude." With that he stood and turned to leave, then hesitated and turned back to the elf. "You are aware that I now owe you a favour in kind, yes?"
"Hmm? Alright, I'll keep that in mind," he said graciously.
He nodded solemnly and took his leave, walking with a lighter step than he had in weeks.
Ridley sat for a moment. "Act like a jackass. Get rewarded for stopping." He mumbled to himself, pulling out his book again, along with a stick of cinnamon; he flipped open the first and stuck the second in his mouth. "That's going to breed all sorts of terrible behaviour." 
Category:Banishment of the Blackblades