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Not Telling
As should be evident from the story, this is set a few years after the events of Throne of Bhaal. Althanus, the protoganist, surrendered the essence of Bhaal and is attempting to settle down to a more peaceful life.
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The snow drifting down on us is lessening, mused Althanus as he stepped over a half-concealed log that lay in his path. Earlier, it had been as if all the snow they had missed out on over the last few winters had decided to make an appearance at once, enveloping the gently sloping hills in a thick layer of frost. He had only just made it back from Athkatla in time: the darkly brooding storm clouds had been straining to catch him for the whole journey. The thought brought a half-smile to his prematurely lined face. Dragons, liches and half-mad mages were not the full extent of what he had faced throughout his adventuring career, yet he knew Aerie would have fussed over him had he been caught in a little snowstorm.
It was not as if he had much to fear from the occasional group of bandits or wandering monster: a few long years spent on the road battling evils in the name of Torm, followed by the entire incident with Melissan, had hardened his large, muscular frame and accustomed his mind to the rigours of close-quarter fighting. Aerie too, he knew, had more power contained in her slender body than any Cowled Wizard he had encountered. Still, it was in her nature to worry over such matters, especially since Gorion had been born.
As if summoned by his idle thoughts, their half-elven son came briefly into sight around a couple of pine trees, before vanishing further into the forest. Probably trying to cover Rufie in snow, thought Althanus as he spied the canine footprints of the family?s large wolf-like dog. A moment later, his wife came into view holding a small, fur-lined jacket and an equally miniature wooden sword under an arm while she jogged through the snow determinedly after the young boy.
Althanus shook his head with amusement at the spectacle; it was Gorion?s first experience of snow after learning to walk and he was evidently eager to make the most of it. The chances of Aerie managing to get him to wear the coat were slim indeed. The sword on the other hand?
The paladin grimaced slightly. He still wasn?t absolutely sure what he thought of that yet. It had been the result of his half-brother?s latest visit to their remote cottage. To the surprise of all concerned, the former Bhaalspawn had not only proved to have a more gentle side, but also to get on very well indeed with children. While Althanus believed whole-heartedly in Sarevok?s redemption, his wife had never been fully convinced. Walking into the back garden of the house and finding Gorion being taught how to kill at such a young age had been quite a shock for her.
Aerie had disapproved of the idea, of course, but Althanus remembered the slight glow Carasomyr has given off when his child had touched the pommel and, at Sarevok?s urging, had reluctantly begun to teach him the basics of how to hold and use a sword. No matter how much he wished for Gorion to live a life of peace, he knew that sometimes the call to adventure was too strong to resist. Although they no longer had the Holy Avenger- it had been gifted to his old friend, and previous travelling companion, Keldorn the last time he had made the trip to the city- the message had been clear. At least this way he might be better prepared for it than I was.
The thought of his recent journey to Amn?s capital caused him to chuckle slightly as he remembered Imoen?s surprise decision to travel north towards Candlekeep in search of Elminster. When they had split up at Athkatla?s gates, she had announced her desire to ?find that ol? stick-in-the-mud and give him a bit more style?. Althanus had very little doubt as to exactly which colour Imoen would deem more ?stylish? and started to feel a slight twinge of empathy for the amiable old man.
Perhaps the mage would be lucky and Imoen would only find issue with his robes; they had had to cut off Althanus? neatly trimmed beard after finding Imoen?s colour changes were irreversible. Or so Aerie had told him before dissolving into fits of giggles with his half-sister.
A small cry from the trail ahead interrupted his reverie and Althanus broke into a sprint, swearing softly as his sword hand reflexively reached for the blade that wasn?t hanging by his side. The snow crunched under his heavy boots as he urged his body to move faster. I should not have left my sword at the house, he mentally cursed, if either of them is in danger, I would never forgive myself.
The barely visible path took a sharp twist and the trees thinned out to either side as he skidded to an unsteady halt at the edge of a small glade. Relief more potent than any elixir surged through his body as he saw the cause of the alarmed shout: Gorion had hurtled headfirst into an unusually large snowdrift in his pursuit of Rufie. His mother was kneeling besides him, hands fluttering like pale butterflies as she half-heartedly scolded him.
Gorion himself looked undecided at whether to shake off the snow that clung to his tousled chestnut hair or to burst into tears. However, the sudden reappearance of the boy?s quarry at the far end of the drift solved his dilemma. With a shout of delight, Gorion once more raced after the hound, small wooden sword clutched triumphantly in his tiny fist.
Aerie shot her husband a helpless look as she realised the boy had escaped his coat yet again. Althanus laughed out loud as he helped the thwarted elf to her feet, before embracing her frail form tenderly.
?And my knight rushes to the rescue,? she murmured into his shoulder.
Althanus could not keep the smile from his face as he lightly kissed her forehead, before partially breaking the embrace and wrapping a muscular arm around her slim waist. Perhaps this truly is peace at last, he thought as the couple walked slowly after their son deeper into the winter wonderland.
