Late Night Gardening

[Elessar]

Was there anything more relaxing than being outside? Feeling the freshness of the air, hearing the sounds of nature? For others there were probably better things that made them relax, but for Elessar being outside was all that was needed. That was where the Elf had been spending the majority of his time as of late: outside.

Currently he was in the garden, ignoring both the fact that it was dark, and it was late. Normally he would have been in bed, but tonight it was out of the question due to the pain coming through the bond. Dressed in his usual day clothing of green tunic and dark leggings, he was ready for some late night work. It wasn't that he was callous and did not care, it was far the opposite, but this time he knew he couldn't help. His friend was in good hands, and would be taken care of. Elessar was certain of that just as certain as he was that interrupting would not lead to anything good. Still, the pain was there, and he was determined to quench it by gardening.

To the far end of the garden he would head, stopping when he reached a large area that, at first glance, appeared to be moonlight reflecting off silver. In reality the glow was not moonlight nor silver, but instead flowers, hundreds of flowers in that small patch.

These flowers were unlike any others, and not just for the glow they gave out. Each was a long stemmed lily with not a hint of leaf among them. The buds were in full bloom of the palest pink, each giving out that ethereal glow. All along the patch the flowers were the same, that was except for a small cluster towards the middle. These ones held the same pinkish color, and gave off the same glow, yet their blooms were spotted; stained with the deepest red color. From afar the flowers almost appeared to be bleeding. It was to these flowers that he carefully made his way, and knelt, beginning to tend to them.

[Marqués del Stry]

Having been sitting on one of the benches gardens, reading a book, he had seen the Elf enter the garden. That he hadn't been noticed did not bother the Marqués at all for Elves were not his favorite type of people. It would do for him to ignore the elf all together, but that was something he could not do. Still untrusting of their kind surely if he had seen the Elf, then the Elf may have known that he was not alone in the garden.

The book was closed and the Marqués rose to his, placing the small hardcover book in the inside pocket of his jacket. He had two options: to leave, or to stay. If he decided to stay he would make his presence known.

Second option was chosen, and not attempt to hide his approach was taken. Drawing near he saw what the other was doing, and took a stand off to the side. He did not have to be friendly, but he could be civil.

"Buenos noches. Your flowers. Why do they bleed?" He spoke with a tone of civil interest.

[Elessar]

This is what happened when your mind was occupied with other things; you could walk right past someone and not even see them. It seemed Elessar had done just that, for he had thought himself alone until the other man had begun to move. The Elf had been busy with his flowers, his head bent over them, when his ears had suddenly caught the sounds of someone moving behind him.

With the many guests roaming about the place he had gotten used to the sounds of them coming or going, and did not look up. It wasn't until the footsteps came closer and stopped near his flowers that he lifted his head.

He was surprised to see it was that man, Marqués, wasn't that what he said his name was? Remembering the last time they had met, he tensed, waiting to see what the man would say this time. While the tone was far from friendly, it was civil at least, which was still shocking to the Elf.

Still, if the man could be civil, Elessar could as well. He just hoped the man would feel that way after he answered the question. When they first met he had seemed offended over the fact that he was injured, how would he take the story behind his special flowers? There was only one way to find out, and he turned back towards the flowers as he spoke.

"They are called bleeding hearts. Each flower is planted in the memory of one who has been lost to us." Out of the hundred clustered there, it was hard to tell how many of them were bleeding, but Elessar could name them all. Even after two hundred years he could recall every single person who had been lost to him.

[Marqués del Stry]

It was his first thought that the flowers were a personal collection of the Elf due to how he was tending to them. The gardeners he knew were very particular to the groups they tended, but special care was always taken to the ones that meant the most to that person. This is why the Marqués thought those flowers belonged to the Elf.

"You have known a lot of death." Whatever it was his feelings about the elven race, he would not speak badly of the dead. It was against his religion. What was the elf's name. He thought it over. "Elessar. Is this a tradition of all of your kind? Is it the persons own blood on the petals?"

[Elessar]

Elessar had just opened his mouth to address the questions about his flowers when the bond suddenly flaired to life, sending a thunderclap of pain crashing into his mind. The impact caused him to fall forward, his hands digging into the ground as the pain washed over him.

Moments passed before the wave of pain finally began dying away, leaving a dull ache behind. Elessar forced himself to straighten up then, aware of the man standing behind him. If he would have been alone he probably would have ended up laying among the flowers, but with Marqués there, his stubborn Elven pride would not let him. If he ignored what had happened, perhaps the other man would as well.

Ignoring the pain in his head, he set to answering the questions he had been asked. "The tradition is not one of all my kind, but one of my village. Being the last of my village I sought to bring the tradition here, so it could continue on." He paused, a look given towards the bleeding petals. "No, the blood of the one lost is not used. These flowers are different from the others; the blood spots grow as naturally as the leaves."

He reached down to his side then, into the leather pouch that hung there. Removing his hands he pulled out two bulbs; one was a pale pink color, like the blooms, but the other was the color of blood. Both of these he extended towards the man for a better look. "You can see the bleeding hearts look different even as a bulb."

[Marqués del Stry]

Was that? It couldn't have been, and yet there was no doubt in the mind of the Marqués at what Elessar had experienced. The flash of pain, tightening of the muscles. Yes. He knew what it was and it brought back memories from the year past.

The elf was trying to tell him of the plants and the bulbs but he almost did not hear them due to the visual memories in his head. He shouldn't be here. Trying to seek a common ground with the Elf was a bad idea. He should have known better and stayed to himself.

The Marqués muttered under his breath as he started walking away. A few steps and then he stopped, keeping his back turned to the elf. "You brought those bulbs here. Are you willing to part with any of them?"

[Elessar]

The man was walking away. Still holding the bulbs in his hands, Elessar watched the man as he walked off. This wasn't a surprise; not after their first meeting and the reaction that had been caused over a few bruises. Comparing the two, this reaction was actually mild, and at the moment preferable.

Elessar's head still ached which left him in no mood for arguing or trying to decipher the odd language he had heard the man use before. He was torn between the desire to lay down and rest among the flowers, and to race upstairs to check on his friend; neither of which he could do while the man was there. Needless to say, he wasn't sad that the man had started walking off.

He had turned back to his flowers, starting to put the bulbs back in the pouch when the man spoke. The question caused him to look up in surprise, and it showed at the look he was giving Marqués. Had he heard right? He was asking for some of the bulbs after he had started walking away? Still, Elessar was a kind person, and some part of him hoped that if he was civil to Marqués then perhaps someday he would return it. "It would depend on how many I was asked to part with." He had brought more than what had been planted, but still it was a limited supply.

[Marqués del Stry]

There were more.

He retained his position for a moment thinking things through. In order to survive in the world there had to be common ground. Such a thing was a thin line for him now, but it did not have to be so within this Inn, with this elf who might have had nothing to do with the events of the past year.

Stepping back with his right foot he then pivoted on his heel to bring himself back around to face the other in the garden. "Goheno nin. Ron colaer mela en' coiamin. Cala'quessirs." (1) Unlike with his english, when he spoke in the tongue of the eldar it was not as slow. Still, it held his Spanish accent. For many people it was a sign of respect to speak in their tongue if able. Heel of his right hand came up to press between his eyes. "Amin n'rangwa." (2) Then he sighed.

"I would buy two of them from you. What is the price?"

---

^{1- "Forgive me. They killed the love of my life. High elves."
2- "I don't understand."}

[Elessar]

People can surprise you. That was a lesson Elessar was slowly learning, and at the moment Marqués was doing an excellent job of teaching it. Of all the things he had expected the man to say Elvish hadn't been it. That, added to what he actually had said, left the Elf's mind spinning in thought.

High Elves, he had heard tell of them before. There was none in his homeland of Gensis, however, and so he had never had the pleasure of meeting one. To Elessar, it all suddenly made sense of why the man had a dislike of the Elven race. If he had been in a similar position, he probably would have felt the same way.

"I am sorry for your loss." He truly was, Elessar never joked about death. "I am not a High Elf." The Marqués probably knew it already, but Elessar felt like it needed saying at any rate. "I am not from this realm even." His homeland was far beyond mortal reach.

The bulbs were pulled from his pocket once more, and he glanced down at them. "There is no charge for my flowers beyond a simple request. I ask that you tend them with care." He looked up to the man then, extending his hand, and the bulbs, towards him. "They will grow and bloom within a few weeks of planting. These flowers are different from any other you'll know; their bloom life is only three days," He paused then to glance back at his collection before continuing. "After that they fade, to sleep until another year passes. I was once told after death the faer lingers for three days before passing on, it was the belief of my village that these flowers represented that, and in turn honored them."

[Marqués del Stry]

It may be that bad blood between them was thining, if only by a margine. This elf, Elessar, was not even of this plane and that made a difference. Even with that the Marqués knew that he was far from being friends.

Closer he went to retrieve the bulbs. "There is a life cycle to all things. Some is for a moment and others it is for an eternity." It caused him to think about when he would plant them and if like regular plants, they had to get in the soil during favored times of the year.

"Tell me, Elessar, must they only be planted during the warm seasons, or can they stand the ground when it is yet frosted over?" If the flowers would bloom weeks after planting then he was wanting to have them bloom near, if not on, the anniversary of the deaths.

[Elessar]

Friendship between them may have been a way off yet, but it was a start at any rate. For Elessar, he was simply grateful they had reached this point. What the man said about a life cycle was true, though for some even an eternity was not enough time. These thoughts were kept to himself however.

The question about the flowers caused Elessar to smile, if it was just a hint. He himself had that same question when the flowers had been taken from Gensis. "Unlike the flowers of this realm these can be planted during any seasons through the year. From what I have witnessed they seem to be resistant to the weather."

[Marqués del Stry]

The Marqués looked down again to the bulbs, glad to hear that they could be planted at any time of the year. Good. Since this was the case he would plant the bulbs, personally, near the anniversary of the fire. Maybe that way they will bloom on the exact date, if not a day or two off.

"Le hannon." Only fitting to thank him for what he did in giving him the bulbs. It was not something that he had to do. "Resistant to weather. Or maybe simply the elements." That much he was saying mostly to himself. "The same as her."

"Namárië." And he turned, bulbs in hand, and left the garden.

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