Chapter Text
Legends come and legends go. In these Yondering Lands, nothing stays the same forever, and yet some things are always remembered. The stories change, they grow, they shape themselves to fit the times and the teller. Empires rise and fall, danger rises from the shadows and recedes before the light. But heroes endure. And at the end of their stories, what tales do they leave behind?
It wasn't much of a hill, all told. The only truly special thing about it was that it was the first rise to crest the treeline of the woods around the Tomb of Forgotten Heroes, providing a clear view down the slopes as the trees thinned out and gave way to the Omenfar Plains and the town of Candlewane Cottage to the west.
An elderly woman crested the hill, using her staff as a walking stick to support her up the last few yards of the slope. She smiled softly as she saw another woman, near the same age, lying on the grass ahead, looking out at the horizon.
"Feeling any better, dear?" she said as she carefully lowered herself to the ground as well, letting the staff bear her weight until she could settle into the grass.
The woman lying down sighed. "If they ever tell sagas about us, they're not including this part. 'Lo, Korin Tenevale, the legendary Starheart, did vanquish the ancient monarchs of the Deepists and escape safely from their citadel, and then had to lie down for half an hour because she'd thrown out her back and her bowstrings always made her arthritis act up.'"
"Hah. Bet you're wishing you'd taken them up on their offer now."
Korin snorted. "Please. Like I told them, a life built on bones is no life at all. I'd rather wrap up my life with the aches I've earned and the love I've found than live an eternity sucking on the marrow of anyone who tries to get close to me."
Ardellen smiled and brushed a hand through Korin's hair, making the shimmering constellations in it dance. "Just as well. You wouldn't look good in grey, anyway."
"Fresh." Korin flicked her fingers at her wife, sending sparkles of starlight cascading over her. "Where are the others, anyway?"
"Aumme's setting up the campsite -- they said it was better than trying to make it all the way back to Candlewane Cottage before dusk. And Metla and Gurth are putting the tomb back in order before we leave it behind. It's the least we could do for Eylas and Lestrond. They weren't good people, in the end...but they still did some good when they were young. They deserve a little respect for that, at least."
"Huh. You can still say that, after all they did to you?"
Ardellen wrapped her arms around her knees, ignoring the way her joints protested as she looked off at the horizon. "It's funny. I still remember all those years ago. I was just a scared girl who'd gotten in over her head, following a Deepist preacher into their lair and instantly regretting it. You and Anilda burst into my cell, and we somehow fought our way out against all odds. We formed the Stone Seekers, and ever since then, for all these decades, the Deepists have been looming over our lives. We've fought them, we've negotiated with them, we've beaten them and been beaten by them so many times.... We get older, Anilda retires to start that farm she always wanted, our daughter and her friends join us, other folks come and go.... But the Deepists are always there. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I've forgiven them for all they've done. The king and queen especially. But I guess after having them loom over my life since I was a feckless teenager, I've come to understand them a little, too. It's complicated."
"Wonder if that's gonna make it into the legends," Korin said thoughtfully. "Somehow, I think the bards are less interested in the moral ambiguities of the enemies we fight, and more the exciting ways we blew them up."
"You never know," Ardellen said. "Legends change over time. Everyone who tells a story has their own reasons. Their own understanding of the story, and their own ideas they want to get across to the people they're talking to. Sometimes they want to make a point, sometimes they want to entertain an audience, sometimes they just mix up the details by accident. They add things, they take things out, they throw in a familiar character because the audience likes them."
"I've got to admit, I've always thought it was a bit suspicious how many adventures Grani Goldlute shows up in," Korin said. "She'd have to have spent probably three or four lifetimes just fighting Thrixl alone."
"Exactly. So if someone thinks our stories are worth telling, they might throw in some moral ambiguity or make it more of a romance or have us adventuring with heroes who haven't even been born yet."
"Or talk about my bad back and your berry allergy."
"Only if they've got a passion for narrating time spent trapped in the privy. But they might. You just never know."
Korin wrapped her arm around her wife's shoulders. "Honestly, I don't care about what they say about us as long as they don't forget we're together. Some things are too important to let go."
Ardellen leaned her head against Korin's shoulder. She looked out towards the horizon, where the sun was just starting to set against a haze of low-lying clouds. "Dear, even if they forget, I'll always remember. After that, who cares what future generations have to say?"