Hethurin Fairsong sat on the beach below his home on the cliff. He rarely fished after supper, but Tik had not questioned it when he had picked up his fishing pole and started casting his teleport spell. Of course, he didn’t really need the fishing pole. He wasn’t really fishing tonight. He just needed them to all believe he was. He did need to be outside of the house. He had already done this once before, but only going back a year. He knew Tik had been alone in the house back then, and wouldn’t know him if he just appeared in one of the rooms. The beach was safe. Few people spent time here, even before the Scourge attack. He had gathered that much information from talking to Tik. He could travel back in time safely from the beach.
On his previous trip, he had visited Dalaran, lightly disguised as not to be recognized, but not too heavily disguised as he did not want to draw attention from anyone who could detect magical illusions. There were many people who could in Dalaran. It was best if they thought he was just hiding acne or a scar, so he kept it light, only changing his face slightly and the color of his hair. He avoided any of the places he might run into his friends, but he did wander about the streets with shops a bit. Most of them were closed as it was late, but he didn’t intend to go inside anyway. He did nothing else but wander and look. It was good to see the city one last time.
The trip he planned tonight would be his biggest jump into the past yet. A disguise would be needed again, mostly because of his eyes. Forty years ago, sin’dorei did not exist. His eyes would have to be blue if he were to walk around Silvermoon without trouble. He would change his hair color and face just a little as well, as he had on his trip to Dalaran, though he didn’t expect he’d accidentally run into anyone.
Forty years ago, he was 52-years old. He had private lessons for history, literature and music, as well as daily morning group classes in beginner arcane theory. It wouldn’t be until much later that he was old enough to start practical classes to learn magic. Back then, he also helped his father in the office from time to time, a job he hated doing. He went to bed fairly early after an evening of study every night. He planned to arrive late so that there would be no chance of running into himself.
He did plan to teleport to his family’s home, after going back in time. The office his father used in the front of the house for his patients was usually empty that late, except on Fridays. That had always been the day there was usually an overnight patient. At one point it was Wednesdays too, just after the Scourge invasion of Silvermoon, but he planned to be going back much further than that.
The purpose of this trip was personal, again. The trip to Dalaran had been so he could, in a way, say goodbye without danger of being thrown in prison with other the other sin’dorei magi. While he was glad he wasn’t there at the time of the purge, where he had been instead wasn’t of his own choosing either. It had been nice to go back and see the city he called home one last time.
This trip was a little different. He wasn’t there to see the city, but rather, to see a person. He glanced up at his house just before casting his spell. The windows for Des and Renner’s practice rooms were lit up, as well as the kitchen. He could see it fade out then back in as he finished his cast. It was still dark outside, but more windows had light in them. It wasn’t his home now. The family that owned it before was still alive. There were no ghosts. He frowned, and cast his teleport spell.
He appeared in his father’s office. His father did have wards that were kept up, but of course his own son was allowed in. To Hethurin’s knowledge, he was still allowed in, even in the present, though he hadn’t tried to teleport there directly lately so he wasn’t completely sure of that. He was relieved that he correctly picked a day that wasn’t Friday. The office was quiet and dark just as he had hoped. His entire family would be in the back part of the house at this time in the evening, and most of them would be asleep. Even Vallindra still lived at home back then. He cast his disguise on himself, and conjured a small ball of light. He checked in the mirror that hung in the waiting room. It had been fairly new then. He was rather proud of his disguise. His long blond hair and blue eyes looked natural with his fairer skin. Hair color wasn’t as easy to disguise as one might assume, especially when trying to keep the disguise simple. It would have been easier to dye it, but then he would have to deal with dying it back to the original color, or trying to wash it out. Magic was easier, for him. He peeked outside through the window. He whispered another quick teleport spell, and he was standing outside in the street in front of the house.
He quickly made his way away from his family’s home, pulling the hood up on his cloak as he walked through the quiet nighttime streets. While most people would be asleep now, it wasn’t so late. The taverns and inns were open. He walked by them, the establishments becoming less and less reputable as he continued. The wide, well-lit streets turned into narrow, dark alleys. The extravagant parties going on inside the nicer taverns weren’t to be found amongst these streets. He carefully stepped over a drunk who had passed out in the middle of the road. He wasn’t exactly sure where to go. He wandered through the twisting, narrow streets with his guard up. It wasn’t called Murder Row for no reason.
It was on one of the wider streets, and the last one he was going to check before giving up, that he found who he was looking for. He stopped as soon as he saw him, further down and across the street, standing on the corner. He stood with one foot on the ground, and the other against the wall that he was leaning against. He wore tight brown pants with a small hole at the knee, and a plain, sleeveless, tan tunic that hung open in the front. His slightly wavy, orange-red hair hung loose over his shoulders. Hethurin rarely saw him with it down, but it was definitely him, Aeramin. The elf who would become his best friend, and eventually his lover, and then his ex-lover, forty years from now.
He stood back, watching. He couldn’t do the same in the present. The other elf would probably recognize him, no matter how much he disguised himself, if he even tried. This was easier. Aeramin wouldn’t recognize him as they hadn’t met yet, and he could quietly see him from a distance. He could silently say goodbye, and there would be no blame, no argument, no hurt feelings, and no extensive invisibility or illusion spells. He started to smile as he watched, but stopped as he noticed the elf on the corner had in fact taken notice of him. Hethurin quickly looked away as Aeramin smiled back at him.
(( To be continued… ))