Log Cast: Treestump, Clearbrook
Log Date: 7/4/1998
Log Intro:
	When the Underworlders held captives, Treestump was one of them. 
 Down there he witnessed - and experienced - things that he would rather
 forget.  But some things should never be forgotten, and one of them is
 friendship.  Treestump had befriended a fellow captive by the name of
 Jaylorra, and had grown quite fond of the maiden whom he had nicknamed
 'little lass.'  She had been pregnant when captured, and had eventually
 been pushed to birthing her child early; Treestump had been there, and
 assisted with the birth.  The pair grew closer.
	When Morganthe released the captives, Jaylorra stayed behind. 
 Treestump returned to Lostholt and worried about the lass, but left it
 alone believing she had stayed of her own accord.  Turns later,
 Treestump recieved a sending from her out of the blue.  Still in the
 Underworld, she sent to what she believed to be a dream-image; after
 further question, Treestump realized her memory had been wiped.  When
 her sending cut off abruptly, the elder's worries increased until he
 decided to seek her out.  Telling no one of his plans, knowing that
 they would protest or forbid him to do so, Treestump prepares..
---------

Noises of Treestump's movements about the den hover between the thin
 line of 'noisy' and 'overly loud.' The smaller axe is missing from its
 place on the wall, tucked into his belt, and a satchel is placed
 towards the middle of the floor, half-open and half-ful of assorted
 items. Is the old wolf going somewhere? It certainly appears so.

Clearbrook glances over from where she was tidying things up. "You seem
 to be busy." she comments, looking for a response, but not pushing for
 one.
Clearbrook glances up at the lack of response, deciding that politeness
 won't work, as usual "Going somewhere, dearest?"

Treestump, sifting through some older leathers, glances up at the
 comment, gaze shifting slowly to Clearbrook. He cracks a smile
 crookedly, straightening up slowly, and seems to be taking his time
 with his answer until she offers a question. Haltedly, he replies,
 "Aye.. For a bit."

Clearbrook hrms uncertainly, stopping what's she was doing. "How long
 is a bit?"

"Probably not long." Avoiding her gaze uncharacteristically, Treestump
 moves to approach the pegs again, this time reaching up to pluck the
 larger axe off of the wall. He holds it uncertainly in his hands;
 gingerly, like he would a precious object or something that didn't
 belong to him. "Shouldn't take long at all."

Clearbrook looks more alarmed as he gets the larger axe down. Sounding
 slightly indignant, mostly out of worry, she says "And where are you
 going that you need that?"

[The Axe]
A true work of art which could only be rivalled perhaps by the great
 Two-Edge himself. This Axe, made of metal but never by troll's hammer
 is as perfect as one could be. It is too large for the average elf yet
 small by trollish standards, just right for the elf it was made for.
 The axe is balanced perfectly for the optimum swinging ability with a
 truely lifelike wolf's head growling for the pommel.

"Eh?" Treestump's head turns at that, brows knitting together before a
 faintly sheepish smile touches beneath his beard. "Oh, no.. I.. I'm
 not going to /use/ it.. heh.." His gaze shifts back to the axe,
 thoughtful, then moves to place it by the satchel, reaching for a
 length of leather after doing so. A moment passes, then he says
 outright, voice quiet: "I'm going to the Underworld."

Clearbrook's face turns ashen. "They finally let you go and... and
 you're going back?!" She sits down on the furs hard.

Treestump's gaze lifts to Clearbrook's as he starts to wrap the larger
 axe in the leather. "Aye," he answers gruffly, then his voice softens.
 "There's someone down there.. a lass.. that I left behind. I need to
 go to her."

Clearbrook looks him calmly in the eyes, still not at all at ease with
 this idea, but what she sees there convinces her he is quite, quite
 serious. "If you must, you must. But I will not let you go there
 alone, beloved."

Protest sweeps across Treestump's face as swiftly as if it were fire
 and he a tree. "No!" His voice is sharp, ragged, and he straightens up
 swiftly, leaving the axe only partially wrapped. "No.. Clearbrook,
 love.. You can't come with me.. You.." His voice cracks. "Its
 dangerous down there, lass."

Clearbrook huffs angrily, standing. "You... you.. Aah! I know that!
 That's why I want to come with you!" She throws her hands down to her
 sides, not even aware she had brought them up and looks to the floor,
 frustrated.

Treestump's voice is ragged, but stronger now, though not significantly
 so. "I don't.. Clearbrook, if something were to happen to you, I.." He
 looks away to stare at the satchel, at the wretched glint of metal
 peeking out from beneath the folds of the leather. "I can't put you in
 danger like that, lass. Th-They won't hurt me.. High Ones, the lass
 said I could come down, but.."

Clearbrook is almost crying, but is controlling it for now, though it
 is heard in her voice "I.. I let them take you in the first place... I
 want to be there to make sure you aren't hurt again!" She swallows
 hard. "Don't you know that it would do the same thing to me if
 something were to happen to you again?"

"Oh, lass.." Treestump takes a tentative step forward, then closes the
 gap between he and his silver-tressed lifemate. His blue eyes are
 large with guilt and unease. "You didn't.. I left of my own accord,
 love.. To make sure that Savah and the Sun Village were kept safe..
 Nothing's going to happen to me."

Clearbrook sits down, her face in her hands. "Is this truly so
 important, love, that you must go into that foul place again?"
 (sniffle)

"I.. I have to, lass.." Sinking down to a crouch, Treestump reaches out
 an unsteady hand to grip her shoulder lightly. "Jaylorra's down
 there.. I promised the lass I would watch out for her, but when
 Morganthe released the captives.." His voice chokes suddenly, trailing
 off, then restarts again to begin anew. "He hurt her, beloved.
 Somehow.. Her memory. I have to get her out of there."

Clearbrook nods slowly, understanding, probably. "I can see where you
 would like to leave no one down there..."

A half-hearted smile reaches Treestump's eyes, a liquid sheen falling
 over the pale blue. "I won't stay there long.. just long enough to get
 her out.."

Clearbrook reaches out her own hand to touch the side of his face
 tenderly "Is there anyone you will let go with you, if not me?" She
 still looks highly worried.

Treestump's smile wavers, just a tad. His eyes are unreadable outside
 of liquifying, but he /is/ afraid. The mental damage he had sustained
 from that female that frightened him terribly, though such fear was
 kept bottled up where it would frighten no other. He will be strong,
 yet his voice cracks. "I can't put anyone else in danger. I can't ask
 that of.. /anyone/."

Clearbrook sighs, her eyes pleading "I can't let yourself put /you/ in
 that kind of danger..."

Treestump lifts a hand to touch the slender one on his cheek, his brows
 furrowing with discontent. "You.. Clearbrook.."

Clearbrook tilts her head curiously, waiting for what else he will say.

Treestump's gaze shifts to regard the far wall. His voice has lost its
 strength, ragged and broken, resembling that of a plea that does /not/
 fit this Wolfrider. "... You don't know how dangerous it is down
 there.."

Tears begin to run down her cheeks, but she ignores them. "Dearest,
 dearest... All I know is that I don't want you to be in that danger. I
 have felt my soul torn from me before; I don't know if I could bear it
 a second time..." her voice trailing almost to a whisper at the end.

Treestump's gaze shifts back to study her, worry and discontent the
 most evident in his eyes and lining between his brows. "Oh.." It
 breaks with that and an unsteady smile appears, a struggle to try and
 reassure her. "... All right.. All right!" With sudden movement he
 pulls her into an embrace, strong arms holding her tightly. ** I won't
 leave you, lass. Its.. I won't leave you. **

Clearbrook holds on to him with all of her strength, taking some of
 that strength from his current presence. ** <<wordless relief>> **

Treestump holds her tightly. Too long a time passed in that hell,
 without her - without anyone. Now he's going back and she's coming
 with her. And, by Timmorn's yellow eyes, he'd never forgive himself if
 anything happened to her down there.. "I'm sorry, love." Wry humor
 cracks his voice. "I never meant to have worried you, and.. (heh) I
 should have known better than to try and argue with you."

Clearbrook chuckles, with the slightest edge of hysteria, but not much.
 "Yes, you should." and smiles. Oh, a smiles that is still worried, but
 a different worry... a worry that she can do something about.

Treestump smiles a bit, though doesn't release her for long moments.
 When he does, he does so reluctantly, and he regards her with equal
 worry, yet mingled with affection as well. "You should, ah.." His
 brows furrow some. "You should pack some things.. From what the others
 told me, the entrance.. its a few days walk.."

Clearbrook raises and slips her shortsword into her belt first and then
 calmly starts packing food and water into a satchel.

Treestump watches her with silent eyes, then rises up himself and moves
 towards his own satchel. He begins to finish wrapping up the second,
 larger axe in the leather pelt. His other axe - more familiar and
 certainly more often used - is adjusted where its tucked inside his
 belt, then he starts to tie up the satchel.

Clearbrook rolls a cape, just for good measure and ties it to her bad
 and then sits "When do we go?"

Treestump gives the satchel a light pat to make sure its firm, then
 looks up. "Sundown tomorrow was my plan."

Clearbrook nods, thoughts flying through her mind. "We should at least
 tell Cutter so he knows where we are."

Treestump's head bobs in a light nod. "Aye." His voice is wary,
 underlined with doubt. "Lad won't be happy about it."

Clearbrook shakes her head with a wry chuckle "No, I expect he won't
 be."

Treestump's gaze shifts back to the satchel and he starts to redo the
 lacings, just in case. "I'm still going regardless," he says after a
 time, his voice tight. He says nothing of 'we', for its rather
 unlikely he would protest if Clearbrook wanted to stay behind
 suddenly, however unlikely /that/ is.

Clearbrook sighs and nods, "I suppose we are."

Treestump's lips turn in a faint smile, but when he looks up his
 expression is grave. "You have to promise me that you'll be careful
 down there, lass."

Clearbrook's expression turns just as serious and she nods ** I
 promise. But you must be as well. **

Treestump emits a soft, toneless chuckle. ** I promise, lass, I
 promise, ** he reassures her before straightening, dropping the
 wrapped bundle on top of the satchel and nudging them both to the side
 with his foot. "I don't think I could be anything /but/ careful down
 there.."

Clearbrook smiles wanly, somewhat reassured, but that last comment
 bothers her.

Treestump appears not to notice, or if he does he gives no sign. He
 instead watches her as she packs, his eyes since darkened after
 muttering those last words, perhaps in thought. Nervous habit prompts
 him to fold his arms over his chest, one hand reaching up to finger
 the end curl of his beard.

Clearbrook sets her bag carefully on teh floor, removes her sword
 carefully and falls backward onto the furs she was sitting on,
 exhausted by the whole conversation.

Treestump emits a soft chuckle, gentler than the last, and approaches
 the furs. "Rest, love. We've got a bit of a trek ahead of us
 tomorrow."

[And the two life-mates retire early in the night, resting in
 preparation of the ordeal that lies ahead of them.  Yet Treestump
 earns  little sleep in the process, kept restless by worries, fears,
 and concern, his eyes never leaving the braid of silver hair nestled
 in the  sleep-furs beside him.  End Log.]