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The Icebound Chauffeur


Luxury
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A determined figure pushed against the polar gale. Miles and miles still of windswept snow dunes under a blistering cold. The Celian foreigner lifted her head every few paces to peer from beneath the thick hood and frost locked tousles. . . The point of interest on the horizon drew closer still. Thought to be a singularity initially, now understood to be innumerable; Monolithic spires of ice skewered this landscape extending far into the horizon. The Ice Spikes were distant enough from one another to create a winding labyrinth, making the pilgrimage increasingly difficult. Moreover, these frozen pillars seemed to radiate a penetrating cold more intense than the eternal flurry of ice and snow. This was a deep cold, eldritch and uncaring as though space and time had come to a standstill beneath the shadow of the towering spires.

 

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While the fantastical nature and origins of this odd landscape were at the forefront of the Sorceress Aspirant’s mind, her attention was quickly redirected down at the unusual shifting of packed snow underfoot. Mere inches away from an opening in the ground a hunk of ice dislodged and plummeted down. Rhae’lin watched on in silence until it was quickly swallowed by the chasm's pitch black void. A secondary survey of her surroundings presented the Elfess with the newest worry… A titanic cavern spanned the underbelly of these lands, with openings dotting the landscape every so often lurking just behind unseemly mounds of snow.

 

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Seeking the prospect of stable ground upon a cliff face in the distance the Elfess happened upon a less treacherous locale, seemingly a rarity now. A valley cut between two rock faces, and provided an inlet on one side into a cave, soon to become a place to take cover as the traveler was unable to ignore her tiring body any longer. She was not the first person to covet this place, made quickly apparent by the barrels lining the walls of the cave and central kitchen setup. What was mistaken for a pile of bedding in the corner was seen shifting and moving.

 

She was not alone.


 

An Elven man with mottled gray hair rose from the rags, partially made from his own overcoat. He almost seemed ill and of frail disposition, likely from having been among the wastes for so long. Some cobbled together castaway, what with his missing eye and arm… 

 

“I… What are you doing here? You should go back home, this is no place for a wilderness retreat. There are Trolls, Witches, and worse lurking out here…”

Rhae’lin chirped out a sarcastic retort.

“Really? And here I thought I was in some paradise.” 

The jest was a welcome contrast to the inhospitable climate, and a fine way to break the ice.

“May I come in?”

. . .

 


 

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The Exile, Haelewyn, was reasonably startled and confused at the sight of the Elfess. Yet ultimately he welcomed the company of the Celian maiden. The unlikely duo talked into the night, sharing food, stories, and philosophies of life. The testament of Charity warmed this cavern amidst the frozen north, one of the many strengths of mortality. Before long, the two came to strike a deal and Haelewyn would become Rhae’lins first guide on her pilgrimage.

 

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