Jael getting settled in at Metamor Keep.  Comments and criticisms are always appreciated! Running Wild (Chapter 2) Dear Mother,   I realize that it has been several months since I have last written.  I apologize profusely for this lapse, but events conspired against me.  Since I last wrote, I have been moving from place to place, scarcely with enough time to lay down my head before I was forced to pick up and move again.  I have well put to use the skills that Master Ellanon taught me with lute and harp, and Master Laereth's teachings with the saber have also served me in good stead.   The last caravan that I joined up with was attacked by Lutins in the northlands.  I was captured by the Lutins, along with those others in the caravan who didn't have the good fortune to be killed quickly or manage to run away.  I was able to escape, thankfully, or I would not be writing you this letter now.  Unfortunately, in the escape, I was wounded, and that combined with the general maltreatment at the gentle hands of the Lutins, I was rendered unconscious, near to the point of death.   My rescue was thankfully swift enough, and my rescuers killed or drove of the remainder of the Lutins.  However, this is the bit of news that I regret to send back to you: my rescuers were the defenders of Metamor Keep, and I was too sorely wounded to be moved once I was brought back to the Keep for healing.  I'm not certain why, but I was somehow susceptible to the curse that surrounds the Keep.  In short, I find my place with the Keepers, now, and their curse is my own.   I say this, not in an attempt to gain your pity, or the pity of my kinsmen, but merely to convey to those back at home the news of my recent life.  My place is here now, I suppose, and at the very least I shall help others from befalling the same fate that I may have suffered at the hands of the Lutins.  It is a noble enough calling, to be sure, and the Keepers are friendly enough.  I can also tell that my poetry and song will be as well-received here as possible anyplace else in this land, perhaps even more so than back home!   In closing, Mother, I wish you all the best.  I am as well as could be expected, and I look forward to your letter in reply.  News of what goes on around home would be much appreciated as well.  I shall be here, I suppose, for a while, so you may know where to send your reply.  Yes, my humor and my spirits are intact, perhaps never better.  Fare you well, and give my regards to all back home.   Ever your son, Jael'anon Kawauso   Jael sighed softly, placing the pen aside as he looked down at the parchment, picking it up and blowing on it gently to help the ink dry.  It had been far too long since he had written, and now he had true news to convey, so perhaps it was all the more important.  Even so, he felt nervous to do so.  Even in the best of lights, his news could not be called "good" by any stretch of the imagination.  It wasn't horrible news, to be certain.  He had been wounded, but was healing.  He lived, and would be healthy again soon enough.  Still, it was hard to write that he would be staying at Metamor Keep, probably for the rest of his life…which may not be long, considering that the Keep was the first line of defense against strikes from the north.  Lutins, giants, and necromancers; he would be part of the defense against these enemies now.   He folded up the parchment, tying it with a string as the door cracked open, revealing a familiar red-furred face.  "Alan, it's good to see you again."  He set his feet on the floor, standing slowly with a soft groan to meet the fox.  "I was just finishing up a letter home."   "Good to hear that you have strength to lift a pen, and scribble it around the page, I suppose."  Alan chuckled softly, entering the room eyeing the man as he gained his footing.  "Since you seem to be able to come to your feet on your own, do you think that you'd be up for the grand tour of the Keep?"   "I literally just got back on my feet!"   "Fine, not the grand tour, then, but at least a small one?  No need to go exploring all about, but I'm sure you'd be glad to know how to get to the privy."   Jael grunted his assent softly, not able to argue with that in any way.  "I suppose so."  One hand went to the back of his neck, worrying at the patch of fur growing there.  It had spread since he had first felt it, spreading over the majority of the back of his neck, merging with his hair and beginning to spread down his back as well.  The thin hair on his arms and legs had thickened, and for the first time in his life it felt like he was beginning to grow a beard.  "Fine.  A short tour…and I definitely would like to know where the privy is."   "Very well then, let's get underway.  We'll keep it short, as you requested, as much for my sake as for yours."  The somewhat elderly fox grinned cheekily, bushy tail swishing from side to side.  "I've got no desire for you to use me as a crutch."   The half-elf snorted softly in derision as he pulled his shirt on.  Not his old one, to be certain…that one probably was on the rag heap, if it hadn't been burned.  He'd been provided with a new set of clothes as soon as he was strong enough to be able to pull them on.  While they didn't fit as nicely as his old ones had, they were still serviceable, and he supposed he couldn't complain if they were hand-me-downs.  Tugging on his new boots, he stomped his feet to settle them.  Not too bad a fit.  "All right, ready as soon as you are."   獺   The tour was mercifully brief.  The unfortunate thing about being bedridden for several weeks was how weak one was at the end of such a period, and Jael was grateful when it was over.  He was even more grateful that the tour found its end at a pub.  Walking through the doors and into the interior of the place felt simply wonderful, almost a kind of homecoming.  Since leaving home, he had found his place in taverns like these often, playing music or singing.   What made the place different than anywhere else that he had ever been was the clientele.  As he had seen in the rest of the Keep, children were in the place of adults (such as drinking at the bar), statuesque men and women were spread throughout the room, as were hybrids between various animals and humans.  Other than that, there actually didn't seem to be too much difference between the Deaf Mule and any other tavern that Jael had visited.   Alan headed straight for the bar, where he picked up a couple of mugs of ale from the rather taciturn barkeep then guided Jael back to a nearby table.  As the half-elf drank, the fox spoke.  "Now, if you're going to stay here, you're going to need to serve some purpose.  Not that we're going to chuck you out on your tail, if you grow one, but we can't have any freeloaders around here.  It's a keep, after all, a defensive location.  If you can't fight as a defender, then you certainly will serve on the staff of the keep."  Alan snorted softly, taking a good swallow of his ale before continuing, "So unless you want to scrub pots and floors, clean out the latrines, and all those wonderful, essential duties, it would serve you in good stead to have a skill or two that you could perform."   Jael snorted softly, finishing his own mouthful of ale before speaking.  "I do have some skill with the sword, and considerably more with magic."  He allowed himself a small smile before continuing.  "Also, I made my living before I came here with song and poetry.  A hat out on the floor, a lute in my hand, and a song on my lips paid for many a meal and bed."   Alan grinned.  "You'll fit in here just fine with that background, though you'll still have to serve with the defenders if you have the other skills that you claim.  You'd probably be better served speaking with the mages and defenders themselves when it comes to your exact role, and they'll have tests for you as well.  I'm getting a bit old for the defending, myself."  He simply chuckled.  "Oh, they'll certainly have the tests for you, believe you me…"   獺   A few days later, Jael found himself across a small arena from a bullman, holding a maul in his muscular hands.  The tests, as it turned out, were a series of what amounted to duels.  He had been allowed his choice of weaponry, and had chosen a saber and parrying dagger.  Larger weapons had been out of the picture, as he simply didn't have the musculature to properly employ them.  At least he wasn't as slight as most of the true elves, where he would have been limited basically to daggers, rapiers, and other very light weapons.  As it was, the saber was heavier than the one he'd wielded in the practices of his youth, but that couldn't be helped…   獺   "Get that saber up, boy!  Let it droop and you're going to give your opponent an opening!"  The flat of the rapier slipping through his guard and laying a stinging slap on his right cheek emphasized Master Lareth's words.   The young half-elf stumbled away with his hand rising to favor his cheek, still holding the saber in its practice sheath.  Spitting a curse under his breath, he came back in, saber flickering out like a snake's tongue, only to be deflected once more by the older half-elf's dagger, drawing another slap on the opposite cheek.  "And use your left hand!  You've got a parrying dagger there for a reason, parry with it!"   The practice went on for another hour and a half, mostly in that same vein.  The master was relentless, but what made it even more frustrating was that Jael just couldn't keep his mind on the practice.  He'd get into a flow of strokes, then his mind would wander…and he'd wind up nursing some new bruise.  Mercifully, Master Lareth called the practice off early, nearly as frustrated as the boy.   "Listen, I know you're not happy with your father leaving.  Nobody would be.  But it's been nearly a month since, and as much as it tears you up, you need to get over it.  You need to be able to function, lad.  The real world isn't going to be nearly as friendly as these practices are, and if you get caught up in that without the proper training, you're not going to be coming away with bruises."  The older man sheathed his sword, then his rapier.  "You're going to have to learn to deal with these kinds of things, and deal with them quickly, or you're going to wind up dead."   獺   Shaking off the specter of the past, Jael refocused on the bull across from him.  The maul that the bull held had a padded head of cloth and leather, and the saber and parrying dagger that Jael held were both in practice sheathes, but that meant nothing to the seriousness of the duel at hand.  Truthfully, if the bull hit him hard enough with that maul, Jael could be nursing a series of broken ribs or other similar injuries.  Besides, it was meant to be an accurate test of his abilities, and that meant that he had to go all out.   However, working against him was that he was unused to his body.  Every day he woke up and found himself changed more and more…so when the bull took the initiative, swinging the maul at Jael's chest, his reflexes were slow, a grunt of pain escaping him as the padded maul grazed his chest.  He was frustrated as the bull was awarded the point for the match, considering that had the blow been real, the elf would have found himself on the ground with a caved-in ribcage.   The previous match had gone well enough, Jael's opponent having been a ferret armed with rapier and parrying dagger.  Even with his changing body, Jael had been quick enough to get a solid blow through the musteline's guard.  It was simply frustrating that he had been unable to dodge the bull's strike with the maul and get inside his guard to get the "death blow."  It only made it more frustrating that he had been tripped up by the same thing that Master Lareth had berated him for that day.   Not much longer later, he found himself in yet another arena.  Since he had professed some ability with magery, they'd decided to test him on that as well.  He questioned the decision of sending him down to test his magic skills less than an hour after physical trials, but then he had to figure that they would want to know his abilities under adverse conditions as well.  He could hardly expect to be casting magic in ideal conditions all the time, well rested, in a quiet room, no distractions…   獺   As the spell fizzled into nothingness, the young half-elf sighed.  He'd exhibited ability with magic a few years after his father had left, which meant further training on top of the sword.  At least it seemed to come to him more naturally than the poses, postures, and parries with the saber.  Well, some aspects at least.   "Jael, you seem to demonstrate equal ability in all five elements.  Fire, water, earth, air, and spirit you have no problems with, though your talents seem to tend toward each one's more subtle aspect than the overt.  Your control is excellent and your raw power is certainly impressive, but your concentration wavers.  You could be phenomenal if you'd just buckle down and…Gods damn it all, if you'd just pay attention, you whelp!"   Master Traska was furious.  He had a notoriously short temper that seemed to only get worse with his age, and he was as volatile as the fire that was his own chosen elemental expertise.  Some said that it was because of his personality that he had the easiest time with fire, others claimed that the use of fire itself had shaped his personality…but who knew, when it came to magic?  Each seemed as likely as the other, though it was probably a mix of the two.  It seemed that the current focus of his temper was Jael's failure to live up to his apparent potential.   "You're always sitting around with your head in the clouds.  Stop daydreaming.  Stop writing ridiculous poetry in the margins of your notes, and concentrate on the notes themselves.  You're barely passing this class, when you could be doing so much more, Jael!  You could be one of the great mages if you'd just apply yourself!"   獺   That had been years ago…nearly a decade had passed, and he hadn't used magic since leaving Quenardya.  It tended to attract too much attention in the human lands, attention that a traveling half-elf could ill afford.  If he had been exposed as a half elf, he was sure that any number of things could have happened.   Though now he supposed he was getting the perfect disguise for his half-elf nature, the downside was that he'd still get burned at the stake if he revealed what he was in any human village.   Regardless, his first opponent in the magical arena was simple enough to defeat.  Seemingly a novice mage, a few illusions cast from water were enough to distort his impressions enough to allow Jael a relatively easy victory.  The second opponent was more difficult, with counterspells for Jael's illusions, and a few fireballs to follow up.  A shield of air went only so far against those…but Jael's command of fire and spirit was enough to turn those away, and send them back to their caster.  A water spell put out the age-regressed keeper's clothes and hair.  Jael's next opponent was a somewhat-aged tiger man…who proceeded to roundly thrash the magically-rusty half-elf.  Several weak bolts of lightning slipped through Jael's hastily-constructed shields and made his hair (and what fur he had) stand on end, without doing any real damage.  It had been a sucker-punch, really…the trial had scarcely begun before the lightning bolts had been sent zigzagging toward the exhausted half-elf.   獺   Frustrated and tired, he left the arena…only to find himself face-to-face with a familiar, grinning fox.  "Trials go well?"   Jael snorted softly, still smoothing his hair and fur down.  "That depends entirely on your definition of the word 'well.'"  He chuckled softly, rubbing aching muscles.  "Do they usually have the magic trials right after the physical, or was I a special case?"   "That's usually what they do.  After all, it's combat casting.  You can't expect…"   "I can't expect that I'm going to be doing it under ideal conditions, I know."  Jael cut off the fox with another sigh.   Alan chuckled softly.  "Well, then, now that it's over, let's get you back to your room, and get you into a nice, hot bath?"   "Good gods, Alan, that's the best plan I've heard all day…"