Post by Marto Copperkettle on May 18, 2024 21:12:16 GMT
💙 Co-written with the gentle Fogwalker of the Walking Stone 💙
The quiet peace of New Hillborrow had seeped into his bones over the past two months. Spring had fully blossomed, bringing new life and renewed vigour before becoming summer, the promises kept within boundless sunshine and warmth teasing more ease to come. Time had slipped by with an effortlessness akin to breathing. Marto didn’t mind this. In fact, it made the outstanding concerns — namely Sehloho, the Mind Eater, and their ties to his partner, Fog — easier to put aside for when the time was right. All such things come back into focus when they need to. Something will happen and then he and Fog would be neck deep in the mystery trying to figure out how to fight something that could easily tear their minds apart. Wouldn’t be the first time Marto had gone up against something so dangerous? No. Or so he liked to think. And he did think about it, from time to time, but more often he set such concerns aside. No research done had given them anything to act on. Why worry about something when all it did was cause anxiety? Better to enjoy the blessed and peaceful lull. Marto would not squander this time.
Which was why when the news came to him about his sister he was completely caught on the back foot.
It had taken a day before he had received a message and when it did come, it bore the wax seal of the Order of the Crimson Fist. The note was simple, barebones, rather factual and to the point: Merla had been attacked by the Lord of the Wild Hunt during something called a Moving Day Ceremony. She was currently in some kind of magical slumber and nothing the Grandmaster Varis Nailo himself, nor his Master at Arms Ser Baine Cinderwood had in their arsenal could fix it. The Summer Queen had sent word to the OCF that Merla “needed to be brought back to the Feywild” and there she would need to remain if there was any hope for her to survive.
Marto had sat there with the note in his hands for what felt like only five minutes when Fog had found him. In a voice that was distant even to his ears, Marto showed him the note and said he would be going to the Feywild for a few days. Then, without even taking anything with him but the clothes on his back, whatever was on his belt, and Gwen, he ran to Fort Ettin, paid for a plane shift and was gone.
That was eight days ago.
Upon his return to the village, Marto did not need to look too far to find Fog and Fionn. Though not at home, a quick check-in with BB had him pointed to a particularly dense patch of wildflower meadow in her garden.
In the time he had been away, Fionn discovered that when Fog sits crossed leg it creates a wonderfully comfortable nap spot for the pup. So, as Marto wandered deeper into the meadow, this was how he discovered them. Fionn splayed out with Fog balancing a Giant grammar book in one hand, and making notes in the other.
But even basking in the warmth of the dappled sun, Marto can see there’s a slight tension in the way Fog holds themself. And they’re distracted enough that it’s not till a small wisp of mist curls round their ear that they even notice him there.
“Hi…” Marto said, lifting his hand and giving a halfhearted wave.
At the sound of his voice Fionn sat up and gave Marto a big doggy smile, but stayed where he was. Marto looks down at him and says, “Hey boy…”
Fog closes his book and notes, putting them to the side quickly before holding a hand up to Marto. “You’re really back. Come sit and rest yourself here, you must be tired.”
The halfling’s hand drops into theirs. Fog’s assessment was not wrong. Marto looked haggard, tousled, and weary all at the same time. Even the way he was dragging his feet implied he hasn’t been still for probably more than an hour at a time. There’s a short, low grunt and Fionn gets up. With an unintentional heavy sigh, Marto sits down in Fog’s lap where the golden retriever just was, whilst Fionn returns to laying down, resting his head on Marto’s knee to better look up at him.
“I’m sorry for going like I did,” he says, voice gruff as he begins to scritch behind Fionn’s oaken ears. “Leaving you both as I did- It wasn’t how I should have done things.” He looks up at Fog, the apology clear in his bright blue eyes.
There’s a pause as Fog processes that Marto is indeed back, at the apology before them, and the familiarity of the halfling sitting in their lap. In their proximity Marto can almost feel the tension physically leave them.
“I won’t lie in saying that I haven’t been worried this whole week for you. At what state you’d be in when you returned. I don’t take things well when someone I care for suddenly has to leave. But…” He leans forward to wrap up Marto in their bare arms, placing a light kiss on his forehead before smiling in relief, “that is for me to process. I saw what the information in that letter did to you, the shock of it all. Apology accepted, but I don’t believe you need to apologise. I’m just glad you’re back, Marto.”
Marto folds into the embrace, anchoring himself in Fog’s arms with his hands. “As much as I am glad I went, I’m more glad to be back here. It wasn’t easy seeing her like that, or anything else that happened around the situation.” His voice dips low on that last part.
“I’m sorry it’s like that, it sounds like it’s been very stressful for you. Do you want to talk about what happened? I understand it can be hard to relive something so fresh if you don’t want to right now though.”
Fog holds on to the steady embrace, idly watching the nearby wildflowers lazily waving in the gentle breeze. More than happy to sit and wait for as long as Marto needs.
It doesn’t take long for him to start. “When I first got there, I was barred from entering Perihelion Palace. Turns out, when the Summer Queen feels threatened she trusts no one. And… I guess I cannot blame her. So many people were claiming to know Merla, and saying they knew the magical cure to fix her.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “The lengths some of the fey would go for prestige… I had not seen it first hand until then. It made me… so angry.”
Fionn looks up at Marto letting out a soft ruff. The halfling sighs, letting go of the remembered anger. “Thankfully, Gwen knew a pixie and a sprite who were able to get Merla’s consort, Kruxeral. I’ve met him a few times and so he knew who I was and that it was actually me. He helped me get in… Of course, it was then I realised Ma and Pa would want to be there too. It took some convincing.” Marto chuckles. “Even Kruxeral didn’t want to be the one to tell them. I said I would do it, if he could get us all in to see Merla, I would be the one to tell them…”
Marto sinks down, becoming even smaller. Fog feels him shake and wraps his arms around Marto a little more. The halfling rests his cheek against one arm and Fog feels a dampness on them.
“I was told stories by Burton when I was old enough to understand who Merla was and what her leaving did to our family… what it did to them. When I told Ma and Pa what had happened I-... I could see it. It was-… as if it was happening to them all over again. It was awful, Fog.” They hear him sniffle, taking a moment to wipe away the tears and clearing his throat to continue.
“Kruxeral got us into the Palace and, what would you know, the Summer Queen was none too pleased. But then- I will never forget it, Fog-” He sits up, turning to look at them. “Queen Titania was barring our way into the room where she was keeping Merla. Saying she wouldn’t even let Kruxeral in now that he had betrayed her trust. But my Ma- my hundred and sixty year old Ma- wasn’t going to have any of it. She stomped her foot, pointed her finger at the Summer Queen and said, ‘You have no right to deny me entry to see my daughter. Merla may be more fey than halfling these days, but she is still my little girl. Yondalla blessed me with her and I will be here, with my husband, to help nurse and take care of her whilst you, Queen of Summer Fae, deal with the one who did this to her.’” He pauses and chuckles even as fresh tears welled in his eyes. “And by Yondalla’s left foot, Queen Titania said okay.”
Fog smiles along with him, though it’s laced with worry for the halfling in front of them. Ever so gently, almost reverently, they wipe the tears from Marto’s cheeks that were missed.
“Remind me to never get on the wrong side of your Ma.” They keep their hand resting on Marto’s cheek, ready for if more tears are to fall.
“I don’t even know what to say,” they continued. “I’m glad you got to see her. That your parents did too. Am I angry that it got to that point? Absolutely. I cannot begin to fathom the complexities of the Summer Court and its Queen, but you are family for goodness sake. Causing unnecessary pain just because…” They take a steadying breath, their voice losing the hard edge that was building, the mists in their eyes calming again. “Sorry, I lost… Are your parents still there? Have you discovered more about how to help Merla?”
Marto shook his head as he took Fog’s hand from his cheek, holding it close to him. “No one has, yet. And yes, my parents are still with her.”
He glances around, like he is checking they aren’t being eavesdropped on in the meadow. Fionn takes note and decides to get up and sniff around, double checking. This makes Marto smile and he relaxes a little more, but keeps his voice low so only Fog can hear him.
“She had to be moved after the scene that happened. She’s back in the Court of Harmony, with a small contingent of the Summer Queen’s personal guard there to watch over her.” He pauses, then adds. “I spent as much time there as I could but-…” His face contorts as he tries not to let his emotions overwhelm him again. Then he sighs. “But then I remembered I left someone I love kinda suddenly and they must be worried sick. So I came home. Which reminds me… How long have I been gone?”
“Eight days. Plenty of time for Fionn and I to bond over planning various devious schemes. And I know you are a very capable, strong, beam of sunshine of a man who I love dearly. But yes, I couldn’t help myself from feeling worried while you were away.” He closes the small space between them to press a soft kiss on Marto’s lips before continuing. “I also know it’s a really tough situation Marto, if you feel you need to go back there to support your family then don’t hesitate because of me. I said before that I will always wait for you, and I always will, just tell me what I can do to help you in this and I’ll gladly do it.”
They consider Marto again, remembering the weariness that seems to have settled into his very bones. “Though if you want to go back soon, I would beg that you rest up properly before you do. To put it plainly, you will be no help to yourself this tired.”
That makes the halfling laugh. Marto rubs a hand over his face, like he is trying to remove the wariness by wiping it away. “Ya know, I could do with a week’s worth of sleep.” A sleepy smile curves his lips. “Are you free for the next eight days to just rest with me, Fog?” Marto asked, his own hand finding purchase on their cheek.
Fog tilts his head into Marto’s hand with mock consideration at the request. “Hmmm, I suppose I could free up my schedule.” But the look was lost as he chuckled gently. “No, no. Of course I can be free, and in fact perhaps we can start the resting right now.”
He tilts backwards, their combined weight giving the momentum to softly land their halfling-firbolg pile into the flower meadow with only a slight grunt from Fog. “Okay, I will admit that played out much more gracefully in my head.”
Marto laughed and kissed Fog, hands trailing along their side, up and under their shirt to have more skin to skin contact. A chain of kisses wound down Fog’s neck to their collarbone and meandered towards the centre of their chest. This really was his home now, here with Fog. Marto’s eyes begin to drift close, weighted down with the comforting ease of safety as the last eight days — or one exceedingly long day, if you’re using Feywild time — finally caught up with him. Marto’s head came to rest against Fog’s chest and between one breath and the next he was fast asleep, peaceful and content.
But the peace the halfling had found in blissful sleep would not last for the peaceful spell of the months before had been shattered. His sister’s sudden sleep was only the beginning. There were others in the forest of his friends who needed him. And so the time came in the wee hours of the cool, dark morning, with a pounding on his door, and words passed on by Beets from Sorrel that she needed his help...
“She’s about to go through something massive and I’m not allowed to help.”
“I’m not much of a stand-in but… I can try.”