Quartes picked his way up the hill.  There was the same old sureness, the confidence of centuries and memories that knew each step as well anyone knew the route from table to bed.  There was however, a new slowness.  Perhaps, a small hope that if the next moments didn’t come then the next action wouldn’t have to be made.  It may have been as simple as a desire to spend more time in that moment.

Hand in his, Keto followed the Last Landian up the hill.  A few wrinkles had appeared over the years, mostly in the laugh lines and the smile of her face.  A smile pinched at the edges of them now, even in the face of the red that etched in around the edges of the Landian’s eyes.  When they reached a flat spot on the hill, Quartes led his bard to a spot holding her hand as she settled down before crouching down besides her.  In the familiar spot, there was already a stack of wood for a fire.  The Landian made no show of lighting it with flint in steel, he simply produced one of the tiny blue-gray shards and set metal to tinder.  A blue flash and the tinder burned orange.  Quietly he tended the fire, made sure it would catch and then settled back.

Keto had unpacked her satchel while Quartes had worked, reaching across to hand him a tankard as he leaned back with a pop of his knees.  A smile touched his face for a moment.

“Bit early for wine.”

“Or we started too late,” the bard countered.  “Need something to drink while I wait for you to boil us some tea.”  Tankards were clanked and both took a sip.  The fire crackled and popped in the silence and the sky darkened as it headed towards the next dawn.  Keto took another sip as the fire grew.  “Do you still worry that this is all happening because you’re not good enough.”

“No,” the Landian answered, shifting to look to her.  “I’m confident that knowing you has made me the best I can be.”  He paused, a smile breaking through to brighten his red eyes and dark mood.  It only lasted a moment.  “It’s why I know this is going to work.”  He took another sip to hide the crack in his voice.  “I’m just not looking forward to what comes ahead, to all that I’m going to miss.”

Keto opened her mouth but the moment had been overcome but the portents and she hid her own sorrow in another sip.  “What should I tell her of you?”  The words were bitter in her mouth, spoken even as she knew the answer.

“Nothing that can really matter, we owe that to her and to them if this is going to work.”  He paused for a moment before giving a small laugh. “Be careful about what Durk teaches her.”

The fire had built up and he produce the kettle from his pack, filled it with water and set it over part of the flame.  Keto watched him as he moved and when he turned back he saw the tears forming in her eyes.  He sat back down next to her, tankard shifting as he held out his hand.  After a moment shuffling her own drink she took it, a snort of a laugh and a smile coming from her at the gesture from long ago.

“I suppose if I’ve learned something from you it’s that heroics are not very fun.”

“They have their moments,” he countered, looking to her, “they have their gifts.”

Her smile tugged a little higher and then she rested her head on his shoulder.  Across the valley the sky was brightening as the sun rallied to crest the horizon.  “I love you, you know that right?”

“Forever as I live,” he offered, letting go of her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders.  The memory was often a curse but for this it would be a blessing in the loneliness to come.  Had been a gift in the loneliness he thought he would be long stuck with.

“I love you too Keto.”

The Fey and the Bard sat, watching the sun rise on their last day together.