a long way from home || weston & erinuil
sparkles-and-swords
By the time he had turned twenty, Erinuil had developed a severe case of what his mother diagnosed as ‘terminal wanderlust’. He had spent the next three years after that doing what he could to save money. He took a few jobs while his other friends were going to school, and grabbed maps and travel brochures at every opportunity. He had made plans long before they were executed, and only had the whole support of the neighborhood to encourage him.
He didn’t have an itinerary or any plans that could be considered ‘concrete’, but they were there. He’d spend six months abroad east, then come home for two months, and another six abroad west. ...But of course, that was if he didn’t get bored, or sidetracked, or sated on the way.
His excitement was obvious as he was leaving, and the first time he touched foreign soil. He was jittery, and grinning from ear to ear, despite knowing nearly nothing about North Alviun.
Eri was wide-eyed and confident. Even though he had no idea where he was going, he had maps, and he had time. He wanted to live and experience these different places as authentically as possible. So he rented a night’s stay at a nearby inn. The village was small enough that the inn seemed to be the closest thing they had to authority or a public gathering spot. That night, most of the townsfolk had even celebrated there. It had been some one’s birthday, and Eri had been dragged into the party by just being close.
He couldn’t complain though, it was exactly the kind of thing he was looking for. Smiles, music, and a little bit of beer went a long way for ‘hospitality’, especially when he had been convinced that outside of Erraban every one was so private.
The smile on his face was residual from last night, as he sat, in the morning, poring over maps of the area. He was using the innkeeper’s vague and lackluster knowledge of distance to plan out how long it would take from point A to point B, using a quill pen (of all things!) to draw lines of ink on the page.
“It’s... two days off, yeah,” the innkeeper said. Eri nodded and drew a dotted line to a nearby city that the man had described as ‘huge’. He’d have to see what kind of concept of ‘huge’ the man had. “There’s not too many places to stay though, you might have to sleep under the stars.”
Before replying, the blond bit his lip. The common language was still something he had trouble with. He had practiced so much for this trip, but he was still nervous. His words came out measured and undeniably accented. “I like it. Stars.”
His cheeks grew hot, but even a minor embarrassment wouldn’t tear the smile off his face.
“Just be careful, lotta bandits out this time of year.”
“Bandits? I don’t know that word.”
The innkeeper didn’t have time to answer before the door burst open, causing Erinuil’s maps to flutter, and a few fell to the floor. He cursed (in Elvish), worried the ink had smudged, and moved to retrieve them.
But he stopped when he saw who entered the inn. He had never seen men in actual armor before.