They live in your memories, and they may not return

Ilthuryn sits crosslegged on the slightly damp earth around the back of the Flourished Hook, his maps spread before him. He ponders them, trying to focus on the stars, he looks up but they are blurred, the lights of Port Ffirst making the night sky harder to observe. The starlight catches a single tear as it falls down his face and it drops from his face to the ground. As he looks back down at the maps he begins rearranging them, trying to find meaning in their complex patterns, all the time tapping his finger on an empty spot on one map, a scythe.

Marto comes around the corner, watching the silent elf ponder his parchments and the slight twinkling of light above. The young halfling has two warm cyders with him as he comes over, carefully holding out one of the steaming mugs to Ilthuryn.
"Thought you might want something to keep you warm whilst you're out here. May I... join you?"

Ilthuryn looks up with a start and softens seeing Marto. He gratefully takes the mug and nods for Marto to sit down, as he clears some space on the floor and lays out a fur coat to act as a blanket for Marto to sit on.
"Oh, that's kind of you. Thank you. I'm used to being covered in sweat, trees, and dirt," he says with a laugh.

There's a small sigh as he settles down, making sure not to spill his drink as he looks at the maps curiously.
"Did you do these yourself? They're of the stars, yeah?"

Ilthuryn nods slowly, not looking up from the maps. He traces his fingers between two stars, a small glowing trail following them connecting the two stars to finish the constellation of an archer.
"What you did earlier was... really something."

Marto grins and takes a tiny sip of the cider.
"Your whole form was glowing. I've only seen the fey do something like that but that... You looked like a star or something."

The elven man looks at Marto, and a twinkle crosses his inky eyes as he grins. Disbelief and amazement colour Marto's face.
"Was that what you did? You became a star?"

Ilthuryn shrugs and shakes his hand in a "sort of" gesture. Suddenly he seems to come to a realisation and moves the maps aside before writing in the dirt. In the dark it is hard to make out but in neat common is written "I draw upon my guardians, they give me my power as I embody them"

He frowns, looking at the dirt, before casting his hands up to the sky. With a click of his tongue his eyes glow bright for just a second and an orb of starlight appears over their heads, illuminating the ground with radiant light. Marto’s eyes are wide with wonder.
“That’s incredible,” he says softly.

He then comes back to himself a little and asks really fast, “Your guardians are stars? Is that where you and your people go when they move on from this life? I thought most elves were reborn in a new cycle, because of their connection to Corellon, though I might be misremembering a little.”

He catches himself.
“Ah, sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude. I’m very curious about magic and yours is a kind I’ve not seen before. Please don’t mind me.” He laughs a little embarrassed.

Ilthuryn looks down sadly before slowly writing again.
"No my people" he stops, rubs it out, "I don't know, but the stars, they are not elven souls, they are my guardians, they are above even the gods to me."

“Ah, so, like, the Weave perhaps? Or something more like primordial forces?”

Ilthuryn chuckles as he writes in response.

"Who knows, could be, I don't ask these questions of them, I just listen to their advice, and what they say to each other"

Marto chuckles again.
"Yeah, sorry. My curiosity has had me ask a lot of questions in my life when others would rather I didn't."

There's a moment of companionable silence as he takes another, bigger sip of the hot cider.
"That was interesting what happened today."

Ilthuryn frowns

"I would write so, it was certainly jarring"

"I am", he pauses, "sorry for hiding, my fears overtook me"

“You don’t have to apologizing for that. Those two were… weird,” Marto finishes somewhat lacklustre.

He runs a hand through his hair shaking his head.
“That man in the armour certainly knew a lot about me even though I’d never met him before…”

He looks at Ilthuryn.

“Are you okay though?”

"That girl, she lied to try and get us to follow her.. I", another pause, "I did not want to follow a child into the woods again"

Marto frowns as he reads the words.
“Yeah… The girl who turned out not to be a girl but a half elf — if that even is what they truly are — was…”

He shakes his head again.
“To be honest the whole thing reminds me of a dream I had. Running through the forest, hearing voices, being scared. Lots of things happen in the woods.”

Marto’s expression shows he wants to ask about Ilthuryn’s last writing but isn’t sure how to. Ilthuryn writes shakily now.
"Too many things. The way the woods twisted reality and distances."

He wipes the messages away and seems to freeze, as if he's trying to write something but fails. The young knight watches the elf's hands, sees how whatever he experienced in the Feythorn is affecting him. He pulls one knee up, looks up to the sky and though he can't really see the stars tonight he knows they're there.
"It was by my hands, with my axe, that I helped fell an entire forest for what it took from my family. It was me who cut down the last tree."

He pauses.
"It was all for my sister. She walked into the woods and disappeared one day. 'Off with the fairies,' was what I was told growing up."

Ilthuryn looks up surprised, and signs something before remembering Marto can't understand him and going back to writing in the dirt.

"It took something from you as well then?"

"Yeah. It was for most of my life she was gone. Then, last year, she and a bunch of her friends went to Bytopia to touch Yondalla's tree – the Tree of Bloodlines, I think is what she called it. When she did, her memories of us came back and she... she found us again."

Ilthuryn just stares, almost unable to move. Shakily he writes again.

"Her memories. Back."

Marto nods.
"Yeah, they returned. All of them."

Ilthuryn's head shoots up at the stars, deep in conflict. Suddenly he shakes his head.

"I am happy for her then, it is good for some to regain what they have lost."

The young knight studies him for a moment.
“What did you loose in the forest?”

The elf looks at the young knight before looking back down.

"Not that forest, another. I lost who I was."

He swipes angrily, clearing the last sentence.
"I did not lose it, it was taken."

Marto’s brow furrows in concern.
“What was taken?”

"I do not remember my parents faces, my life growing up, my early memories are all gone now."

The halfling stares at him, stunned.

“Do you happen to know what or who took that from you?”

"The ones who took your sister."

Marto sits there, reeling for a moment. He then leans in close, complete understanding and empathy in his eyes.
"Do you know much about the fey? Possibly what type of fey it was that took your memories from you?"

Ilthuryn shakes his head.

"It does not matter, my voice is gone along with my memories, stolen from me. But unlike your sister the holes in my mind have been filled anew."

As he finishes writing he raises his gaze to stare at Marto, his starry eyes glinting softly

"The stars have given me new purpose, new parents, new stories. They are my guiding lights."

Despite the reassurance, the divot between his brows does not go away as Marto looks back into the starry-eyes of this strange but beautiful, silent elf. He sighs and sits back, picking up his mug of hot cider.
"Well, if you ever need it, you can come to me for help. I know a thing or two about them."

He takes a big sip of cider. Ilthuryn writes in the dirt with a quick grin before standing up and looking towards Marto.
"Before you go, I need to look into your eyes again"

The knight looks at the words written out in the dirt, confused.
"Alright, sure."

Marto stands up, runs a hand through his hair again to get it out of the way and then looks up at Ilthuryn. Despite himself he half smiles.
"Need me to stand on a stair or something?"

Ilthuryn squats down on his heels and reaches a hand towards Marto's face, not touching him but almost requesting to hold his face for a second. There's a slight flush to the halfling's cheeks but he nods. Ilthuryn softly grips his face and stares into his eyes for a long second before smiling and scrabbling through his now disordered maps. He looks confused for a second and comes back with several maps, one depicts a cornucopia, another is a large tree, another is an almost meaningless cluster. Ilthuryn gives an embarrassed shrug as if to suggest he's not entirely sure which one is most appropriate. He holds them out as if in question.
“Oh, uhh… yeah the cornucopia. That’s the symbol for Yondalla.”

Marto taps his shield and grins.
“Same as on here. The tree…”

His face becomes a bit lost, the shadow of deep guilt flashing across it before he clears his throat.
“Well, I used to be a lumberjack. I worked with wood, so…”

Ilthuryn almost throws the other two to the side and spreads the cornucopia on the earth before pulling out three strange knucklebones carved with strange druidic symbols. He throws them over the chart and seems to consider things. He sits for a good two minutes, thinking. Suddenly he carefully rolls up the map and writes again.

"My advice, cut back on cheese. Unfortunately that's all I can really give you, the stars are not familiar with you it seems. Perhaps we will try again one day, when I am also a bit more familiar with you."

Marto laughs heartily.
"Probably a good thing I cut back anyways. But... thank you..."

Marto's eyes widen in suddenly.
"I just realised, I don't know your name! I'm sorry, that's so rude of me. My name is Marto Copperkettle," he says, holding out a hand.

"Ilthuryn"

He stands up and takes Marto's hand. His grip is surprisingly weak compared to Marto's firm, steady, warm hands. His eyes squint as he beams at the short halfling.
"Thank you, Ilthuryn. It was wonderful to meet you. I'll leave you to it," he says gesturing to Ilthuryn's maps.

"If you ever need anything, do let me know, okay?"

Marto bids his farewells and heads off into the night as the starlight above the two fades again, Ilthuryn sits down and pulls out the map of the scythe, casting the knucklebones across them again. They skip across the surface, skimming into the dirt, he scowls. He tries again, and this time they land on three stars. This causes him to frown. Suddenly he flops backwards and stares at the sky and breaks out silently laughing.

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Co-written with the excellent Marto Copperkettle