#are there even cookies in Silvergrove?

[cozycottagevibes]

Ethari: Love, did you know that words that end with -ie are very sweet? Like cookie, and-

Runaan: And die

Ethari:...

Ethari: *gently* No, Runaan

[ask-runaan-anything]

OK, so we all know that you're madly in love with your husband and that everything he does is perfect in your eyes. But...let's talk relationship idiosyncrasies! What things does Ethari do that just drive you nuts after so many years of marriage? Forget to put the toothpaste cap back on? Not tighten jar lids all the way? Place the mug next to the sink instead of in it? (Also, fair is fair - what habits of yours drive him up a wall? Inquiring minds want to know.)

*blurts promptly* I have a list.

To this day, I can track Ethari by the trail of discarded clothes he leaves behind him when he heads from the workshop to the shower at the end of the workday.

*sighs* We have a laundry basket for a reason.

And he thinks he’s funny with jar lids. He tightens them all right--as hard as he can, without thinking. Listen, I’m an archer. I do fine with hand strength. So it just... *squints one eye* ... when I have to hand my husband the pickle jar. I can’t even look him in the eye. And he just laughs.

He won’t even give me back the jar until I pay him with a kiss, either. So chaotic. It’s a very good thing he’s as cute and soft skilled a craftsman as he is. Tsk.

Ethari makes too much of things. No, I mean literally too many. He makes so many cookies he could feed the Silvergrove. Which is fine if he’s actually feeding the Silvergrove. But no. He just likes making eight million cookies sometimes. 

Yes, the house smells amazing. Yes, I get warm cookies. Yes, Ethari feeds them to me. Yes, I get to sit in his lap while he does it. It’s just that... he bakes all day long. In the kitchen. For fun. 

*sighs* His cookies are very tasty. Top notch. Excellent quality. He does not need to practice anymore.

There. Those are the three things on my list. I allow myself three things to be mildly inconvenienced about, and everything else, I let go. Because Ethari is precious to me, and I see no point in collecting negativity when I’m married to such a beautiful, sweet, talented, soft, enthusiastic, creative, warm-hearted elf who can literally sweep me into his arms and carry me off. I adore him as best I can, and I always will.

I can’t imagine that Ethari finds anything about my ordered and structured routines to be annoying. I’ve specifically tailored them to inconvenience him as little as possible. So I’m sure there’s nothing at all to talk about in that regard.

[ask-ethari-anything]

Sooooo...I'm gonna need a story of a time where a) Runaan got very jealous and b) you got very jealous. And no Moonshadow-y workarounds, either ("he got the last cookie and I really wanted it!"). Specifically when a hot guy was jonesing on your dude and you didn't like it and vice versa. There are no judgments here, just tapping my fingertips together in delight. Indulge us?

You’re going to need these stories, huh? Well then… *rolls up my sleeves* Here we go.

Did you ever wonder why Runaan was so persistent in pursuing me? We all know he’s terrible at flirting. 

He wasn’t the only one trying to court me. Sure, he didn’t know what he was doing, but he needed to try, because if he didn’t, he might’ve lost me to another elf. No, don’t worry, he really wouldn’t have, but he didn’t know that at the time!

Who was this other elf, you ask? One of the village bakers. Runaan and I connected over weapons, because he came to me in my workshop. But Salvar and I connected over tasty food, because I would taste test his new creations for him. He saw me walking past one day, just as he needed a second opinion, and my feedback was so enthusiastic that he asked me to come help him another time, too! Well, I couldn’t say no to that. So I’d pop by and he’d feed me whatever he’d made. And a bite dragged out into snacks and then full meals.

Let’s just say I was a lot more visible out in the village, eating Salvar’s treats, than I was alone in my workshop with Runaan. It made Runaan feel very concerned for the trajectory of his courtship.

Jealous. He got jealous.

And then they found out about each other.

Most people would seriously consider backing off the moment they realized they were up against an assassin, no matter the context. Not even Moonshadows have that little self-preservation. But Salvar is not most people. He’s a few inches shorter than I am, slender as a whip, and very feisty. He’s good at what he does, and he knows it, but he can take things a bit too far…

Why do I find such elves attractive? These two were just different knives. One for the kitchen, and one for the hearts of his enemies. *sighs* I do have a type. And I do like plenty of social interaction. Why rush things? Even if I had made up my mind.

Anyway. one day, there was a bustle at Salvar’s bakery when I came by. He’d put a cake in his oven, shut the oven door, and when he opened it again there was an arrow right through the cake and its pan. He hadn’t left the kitchen. And it wasn’t an enchantment. He was pretty twitchy when I asked him what happened, and he just gestured imperiously to his arrowed pan.

We all knew whose arrow that was. We knew.

I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing uncontrollably. Of all the things Runaan could’ve done–lurking in Salvar’s rafters, poisoning his tea, challenging him to a duel–he shot his cake. With an arrow. Just as Salvar closed the oven door. Runaan had been hiding right nearby–somehow–and left his mark, and his intentions, unmistakably clearly. And he’d done it without threatening Salvar at all. A very Moonshadow tactic.

And I thought it was adorable. So soft, really, for an assassin’s skill set. Salvar was less impressed. But the fact that I was laughing so hard at what might’ve passed for a hard prank under other circumstances told me–and Salvar–that it would be better for him to move on. I’d made up my mind.

Salvar let me down easy, and I started cooking for myself again, with no hard feelings. That’s the beauty of Moonshadow courtship. The plausible deniability is astounding. And later, Runaan invited him to cater our wedding.

Victory flex? Generous winner? Just a good Moonshadow? This is Runaan we’re talking about. It was all three.

Now, me getting jealous? Hmm. That’s not really in my nature. On the other hand, I do have a really hot husband, and he’s occasionally attracted some intense attention that neither of us were interested in. You’d think Runaan would be good at saying no to that sort of thing–and usually he’s the first–but sometimes things get complicated. 

We’d been courting properly for just a couple of months when the Silvergrove got visitors. A squad of veteran assassins assembled from all over the Moonshadow Forest, come to brush up everyone’s skill’s because there were rumors that trouble was brewing along the border and Runaan and his teammates might be getting a lot more work. Well, that got us all to pay attention. Runaan especially. He takes the defense of his people very seriously.

So he was out at all hours, sometimes for days, training extra hard, running trial missions with his squad, learning these veterans’ hard-won combat skills. When I’d see him, he was exhausted and sore and more focused than ever. He told me he wished he had more time to spend with me, but this was very important to him. So of course I let him train all he wanted, and I did everything I could to take care of him when he wasn’t. That boiled down to feeding him and tucking him in, and telling everyone that he needed his rest.

And then I talked to Lain about the assassins’ training schedule one day. And Lain told me that not everyone was training like Runaan was. That one of the older asasssins was working privately with Runaan on some kind of “fast track skill set” that would give him a whole new set of skills and put him on the path to becoming a good leader for the Silvergrove assassins. 

Of course Runaan wanted that. Very much. And I wanted it for him. But something in my chest felt a little rebellious. Why just Runaan? Why not teach these techniques to every assassin and let them all decide who would make a good leader? They already know each other well. An outsider won’t know their strengths and weaknesses like they do.

By the time I started walking Runaan to morning training, a few weeks had gone by. He introduced me to his advanced trainer, Kelvik, and the moment our eyes met, I knew I’d been right to worry. The look he gave me when he realized Runaan had a boyfriend clearly said “How quaint. But I’m here now. You can go.”

Spoilers: I did not go.

I asked Runaan if he could avoid training with Kelvik, since he clearly had designs on him. And, bless him, Runaan said he’d been trying for the past week to shimmy away without making a fuss. But Kelvik was just as intense and subtle as Runaan is, and they both knew that everything came down to Runaan’s sense of duty. He’d do whatever it took to learn to keep his people safe. And Kelvik was teaching him that. Slowly and deliberately.

And then one day Runaan wouldn’t look me in the eye after he was finally finished training. And I knew that, whatever had happened, it had just gone too far. I was done being soft. My elf needed me, and I fully planned to step up for him. No one hurts my baby. I kissed his cheek and held him softly and told him that I’d make everything okay. And he just nodded against my shoulder.

There was a village dance that night. Runaan and I went together, hand in hand, as always. But I told him to sit with Lain and Tiadrin and chat. And I told them to make sure he stayed sitting. No matter what happened. Because I really wasn’t sure how my plan would play out–plans are more Runaan’s thing than mine. I just wanted him to stay safe, though. That’s all I cared about.

So I sat my boyfriend at a table at the edge of the dancing green and sauntered right up to Kelvik as he stood with his own squad and asked him to dance with me.

And the Moon granted me a boon just then–the rest of his squad looked between him and me with expressions that told me they knew exactly what was going on. And that was the last bit of courage I needed. I held out my hand with a bright cheery smile–Moonshadows can hide all kinds of things behind a smile, especially when they’ve got nothing to lose–and Kelvik took it.

I whirled him around the green with my best, most graceful moves. After the first dance, he begrudgingly complimented me on my skills. And tried to let go of my hands. 

I squeezed. Hard.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet. Dance with me again! This next one’s a real favorite.”

And he was too confused to say no. So we danced again. And I slowly started crushing his hands every time we touched. He gasped and winced, and I just smiled broadly and kept up the small talk.

I didn’t let him go after the second dance, either.

Halfway through the third dance, he finally blurted, “What do you want, Ethari?”

And through my cheery smile, I told him, “I want to break you in half, Kelvik. Can you convince me not to?” And then I snapped a bone in his hand.

He hid it well. He was an assassin, after all. But he’d opened the floodgates, and I couldn’t stop talking as I swirled and stepped alongside him. “Your selfishness is endangering everything Runaan holds dear. He just wants to be a good assassin, to protect his people and his squad. You’re using that to get close to him, and he doesn’t feel he can say no. So I’m saying it for him. If he comes home one more time and can’t look me in the eye because you can’t keep your boundaries straight, I will very cheerfully hunt you down and disassemble you. I’m very good with moving parts, and I have a bigger collection of knives than you do.”

I dipped him at the end of the dance, squeezed his broken hand, and said cheerily, “Is this in any way unclear to you?”

He growled up at me, “You’ve made your point, craftsman. No need to keep stabbing me with it.”

I hauled him up, gave him a jaunty bow, and headed back to have a drink with my boyfriend and my friends. Runaan looked at me, wide-eyed, as I joined him and the others. “What… did you say? I’ve never seen him look like that before. I think you actually worried him.”

I pressed a soft kiss against Runaan’s cheek and clinked my glass against his. “Just telling him how it is, my heart. I protect what’s mine, just like you do.”

His cheeks flushed the prettiest moonberry red, and that smile… Moon help me. 

Then Lain had to go ruin the moment by saying loudly, “Does this mean we aren’t going to fight anyone?”

I looked across the green and caught Kelvik’s eye again. He’d heard Lain, and he gave me a long look. And then he turned away.

“Not this time,” I said. “This time, we win softly.”

[ask-runaan-anything]

Hi Runaan! Any Fergel stories?

Fergel loves Yule. He was always our resident mixologist for dances and parties. We had jugs and barrels and pitchers and carafes of just about every winter drink known to elf. Give Fergel a bit of cinnamon or mint and he’s off and running. His mulled moonberry wine is to die for. Thirteen different spices. It makes you feel like the light of the full Moon is radiating inside your heart.

Last Yule, he and Ethari got extra festive and decorated the whole village with edible goodies. Cookie garlands everywhere, candyfluff swags, even wispblossom lamps. Those hover, so catching them to eat is always a fun challenge. The elflings were all so excited by the delicious duality of Fergel’s ideas that they decided to form an Elfling Council and proclaim Fergel the Head Yulist of the Silvergrove. Even better, the rest of the village leaders, myself and Ethari included, immediately approved it.

He was ridiculously proud of that honor, let me tell you. Possibly because the elflings insisted that he carry around a candy cane staff of office for the rest of the holiday season.