The Adventures of Belasaar

[superflybelfguy]

How It All Began

Bel’asaar came to wakefulness slowly, remembering the events … well, some of the events, of the night before: the party for acceptance into Arcane studies with his friends. Glass after glass of Suntouched Special Reserve, the wonderful flavor of the sweet and spicy Springpaw Appetizers, and the spectacular display of fireworks. The bonfire down at Saltheril’s place, his old friends, some new friends, strangers, it seemed like everyone had turned out for the party.

Turing his head to the right sent a sharp pain into his temples and set his head to throbbing; squinting his eyes, he dared a peek into the room but immediately shut them as the daylight streaming through the gauze curtains and open window made his pounding head increase in intensity. The sounds of the city street below his apartment were just beginning to come to life and he desperately wished the hawking merchants would give him a couple more hours of sleep. His mouth was dry as a barren desert, and he fully regretted that third bottle of wine, or was it four? He also felt weighted down. Not metaphorically. He was actually weighted down. Gently he raised his sore head, opened one eye and looked down his body. What he saw made him sigh inwardly and he decided that he wasn’t prepared for the awkward conversation that was sure to come about this morning. A pale arm was across his waist and a matching leg was bent at an angle across his own. The remainder was covered in a tangle of sheets and bed-covers.

That’s when he remembered … her. He sighed again and layed his head back on the soft pillow. Her arms and legs were tangled in his and he could swear that she was an octopus simply because of the number of limbs he felt laying across him. He felt her smooth skin in a lot of places on his own, warm and sensual, cursing to himself because he couldn’t remember the night. Forcing open his eyes and grimacing at the pain, he noticed long flowing red hair lay across the pillow beside him, her head facing away from him. A slender bare shoulder peeked out from the soft locks of hair. He raised one eyebrow as he looked down across her back and noticed a slim waistline and ample hips outlined under the thin, silk sheets. Immediately, he was confused. He didn’t remember a redhead.

He was expecting soft blonde curls. Of course he had had a few at the bonfire, well, a lot. Maybe she was a copper haired lovely Sin’dorei and he was simply mistaken about who he was with.

He took another deep breath and started to move when it dawned on him that this lovely red head was facing away from him. How could he feel legs and arms across his body when hers were obviously facing the opposite direction? Something soft moved against his legs and a soft moan came from under the silk sheets. He quickly lay his head back down and pretended to be asleep, keeping one eye open just a slit so he could see.

Her golden hair was the first to emerge from the tangle of bedding at his feet. His heart skipped a beat as he realized he had been right, he was with her at the party. Her hair fell in long locks down her graceful back as she sat up slowly and rubbed her temples. She moved deliberately and quietly, she looked back over her naked shoulder and gazed at Bel’asaar. A soft smile played at the corner of her lips. She laid her warm, almost hot hand on his shin, sending chills of desire up to his loins. Looking over her opposite shoulder she spied the redhead and her face was crestfallen, a blush quickly claimed the paleness of her face and neck. Pulling her hand away from his leg left an emptiness in Bel’asaar that he had not expected. She swallowed hard and grabbed something from the floor. Rapidly, she slipped on her dress, found her shoes and cloak, and tiptoed to the door, shutting it gently behind her. Bel’asaar thought he heard soft crying as she descended the steps to the street.

He sighed, hard, finding that he was both relieved and saddened by her departure. She had been his crush since childhood. Growing up as neighbors, they had gotten into a lot of mischief together. They had confided in one another when young love had broken their hearts. She confided in him about her father’s drinking and abuse of her and her mother. He had consoled her during the death of her oldest sister. And, now, when they might have had a wonderful night together, the events were lost in a cloud of drunkenness and debauchery. He was more than a little embarrassed, for himself and for her. Nothing would ever be the same.

                                              Three months later

 Bel’asaar was going over his checklist of supplies for his studies, classes would start in just under two months and he had yet to get everything required; a large number of books with titles he’d never heard of written by people he’d never heard of, parchment, quills, ink, robes and cloaks, protective gloves and ‘comfortable’ shoes. “Comfortable shoes?” he thought. “Students must do a lot of standing and walking … or running,” he laughed to himself.

Sighing and returning the list to his pack, he looked around the Bazaar. Silvermoon was a hub of activity this time of year. Crops were coming in, hawkstrider sales just outside the city gates, students of all ages and classes getting supplies for their studies, it was bustling with activity. People were coming and going from different shops and they gathered in groups laughing and talking to one another in the streets. Auctioneers were selling their wares and business was apparently hopping as many more people were at the auction house than in the street it seemed. Guards and Arcane Constructs patrolled the area keeping a watchful eye on any louder than usual groups and shifty looking characters. Silvermoon was flourishing and it made him proud of his heritage. His stomach growled reminding him it was past lunch time and that he needed to get something to eat before his appointment at Silvermoon Finery.

He got up from his spot on the bench and headed to his favorite place to eat which was a short walk away. A small family run inn that had a few rooms upstairs for letting out to travelers and a bar with a dining area on the main floor; the family themselves lived in the penthouse. The owner was a family friend and a great chef, he always felt welcome and at home when he went there to eat. Working his way to the Inn proved to be something of a chore. So many people were outside the building, crowding the sidewalk and looking expectantly towards a balcony above. Forsaken, Troll, Tauren, Sin’dorei and even an Orc or two were in the throng of bodies ahead of him, each jostling for the best view. He shook his head and smiled as he remembered the announcement for the Tauren Chieftain performance scheduled for later tonight. It was a relief to know that not everyone out here was waiting for a seat in the dining area.

The sheer purple drapes hanging over the opening parted and their soft swishing sound welcomed him inside as he passed through and entered the main dining area. The owner, an older gentleman named Rahthan, was wiping down a recently emptied table when he looked up and saw the younger elf enter. “Bel’asaar! Welcome! It’s been too long since we’ve seen you!” Rahthan exclaimed in his deep, loud voice. “Lyrel, look who’s come to see us!” he yelled over his shoulder to his wife who was working the bar. Lyrel wiped her hands on the well-worn apron and waved a welcome to Bel’asaar as she took the glass of a patron and refilled it with a white wine. Rahthan took Bel’asaar by the elbow and pulled him into a big hug. Mindless of the other diners, Bel’asaar hugged him back in a tight embrace. “It is good to see you, too, Rahthan,” Bel’asaar said, pulling back from the embrace. He regarded the older elf for a moment and said, “I’m just looking for a quick bite to eat before an appointment.”

“Come, my friend, I have an excellent table for you, a private little spot and just what you need for a brief respite,” Rahthan replied with a nod and a wink.

Bel’asaar followed the older elf through the dining area to a small space beside a bookshelf tucked away in the corner, a small table just big enough for two was clean and seemingly ready for just this visit. The seat was well cushioned and comfortable, his back relaxed a bit as he sighed deeply and smiled to Rahthan, “Thank you very much, this is just what I need,” Bel’asaar told him. The sounds of the other diners were muffled in this sweet corner he had never sat in before, although he’d come here often to eat and relax.

“I have a savory meat stew on the stove in the kitchen or I can fix some barbequed wings if you’re in the mood for something with a bite?” Rahthan asked as he sat a wine glass on the table before him.

“The stew sounds wonderful, Rahthan, with some bread if you don’t mind. And I’ll drink whatever you think would go best with the meal,” Bel’asaar said, sitting his pack on the floor under the table.

“Wonderful,” Rahthan said, “it will be right out.”

Bel’asaar pulled out the requirements list again and looked over it once more. He still needed the robes and cloak and the gloves and shoes. He also wanted to pick up a couple more shirts and another pair of trousers for any time he wasn’t required to be in uniform.

His mind wandered to the long term plan he and his father had essentially worked out as he tucked the list into the pack once more. Going into Arcane studies opened a lot of avenues for advancement in the sociopolitical economy of Silvermoon City. Bel’asaar’s family had a rich history of service for the elven people and he wanted to carry on that tradition. His father and grandfather had both served many years as Magisters and Advisors. His grandfather, long dead, had urged him to consider other career opportunities, which puzzled Bel’asaar since he always thought his grandfather had enjoyed his career. But after much discussion with his father, Bel’asaar had decided that Arcane studies and wielding magic would get him to the top faster than any other course of action. After all, if he wanted to be the Grand Magister he needed to start in exactly this way, “Watch out Rommath, I’m coming for your job!” Bel’asaar thought to himself with a mischievous grin.

Rahthan arrived with a large bowl of steaming stew and a big fluffy loaf of warm honeyed bread, and it smelled delicious. He placed the fare in front of Bel’asaar with a flourish and pulled a bottle of wine off the tray and sat it on the table. Looking at the label of the wine Bel’asaar nodded his head in satisfaction as he recognized the winery and knew it would be a good vintage. Rahthan patted him on the shoulder as he walked away and into the crowded dining area, “Take your time and enjoy!” he said as he disappeared into the rumble and ruckus of the lunch time rush.

As Bel’asaar was finishing the last bite of his lunch, Lyrel came up behind him and asked, “How was it, dear boy?”

“Umm, ve’y goot,” he mumbled past the bite in his mouth. He took his napkin and covered his mouth as he swallowed, “Very good,” he said more clearly. Sipping the wine, which was a great compliment to the meal, he asked, “How are you doing?” and motioned to the empty chair across from him.

“Not too good, I’m afraid,” she started as she sat down, “Rahthan puts up a good front but he is just as worried as I am.”

Bel’asaar was confused, “Why are you worried? Business seems good,” he said as he gestured toward the large lunch crowd.

“It’s not the business, it’s doing very well. It’s our daughter, Elaandra, you remember her, don’t you?” she asked hopefully.

Bel’asaar nodded, although he wasn’t too sure which of their seven children she referred to, “I do,” he nodded, “Tell me, what’s happened?”

Lyrel’s face twisted in worry as she began, “Elaandra has always been a child with her own mind. She went off with a bunch of other kids and left the city more than six months ago. ‘I’m just going to be gone for a couple of days’ she says. Six months! Not one word! I’m worried sick. She’s always been strong willed but never has she left me worried for so long!” Tears streamed down the older elf’s cheeks as she told Bel’asaar of her troubles.

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, “I’m sure it’s nothing. You know as well as I that younger ones lose track of time. I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon.”

She squeezed his hand back and tried to smile as best as she could, “I’m sure you’re right. I have to learn to let go sooner or later but she is my youngest and it’s so hard.”

Bel’asaar continued to hold her hand as she cried softly into her handkerchief. Rahthan walked around the corner just then and saw them in deep discussion. “Lyrel, why do you bother our young friend with our troubles? He has his own life opening up ahead of him, he’s going to Dalaran! He’s going to be a great mage and bring glory to Silvermoon,” he scolded gently as he knelt at his wife’s side. He took her in a loving embrace and Bel’asaar gently let go of her hand so she could hold her husband as she cried on his shoulder. “Come my dear wife; go upstairs to our home and rest. I can manage here since the lunch crowd has gone. You need to lie down and close your eyes, you haven’t rested well since she’s gone,” Rahthan eased Lyrel to her feet and guided her to the stairs just beside the bar. Lyrel offered Bel’asaar a small wave as she started up the stairs; he gave her a reassuring smile and nodded his farewell.

Bel’asaar watched all this with interest. He saw the concern on the face of his friend. “Bel’asaar, I want to appolo …” Rahthan started.

“No, no, my friend,” Bel’asaar interrupted, “please sit and tell me all you know. Something tells me there is more here than meets the eye.” Bel’asaar raised a long elven eyebrow at his friend. He gestured to the seat Lyrel had just vacated and, giving his friend time to collect his thoughts, Bel’asaar stepped quickly to the bar and grabbed a clean wine glass. He poured his friend a large drink and topped off his own glass as well. This was going to be a long conversation.