Another morning starts. Some version of elven stew, some water and another helping of that healing brew. Adnilia has been helping me a lot and I feel great. The part that worries me is her demeanor. Instead of reflecting my improvement in her actions, she is getting more and more frantic.
“Is there something I do not know?”, he wonders continuously to himself.
Halfway through the fifth or 6th week, I felt it. Something that is not me, but trying to be part of me. As if there is acid indigestion in my soul.
A void inside me is growing. Is there something horrible developing in my body or is this bleeding into my soul? This feels strange… invasive. Like it is trying to penetrate my very being.
As I struggle to contend with this new alien feeling in me, thoughts of my family enter my mind. Has there been search parties, is my friends looking for me?
The fallen troops. Have their next of kin been notified? Is there bodies to bury? Who was the assassin? I must continue my quest and get the diplomat’s murder solved.
I cannot stay here
“Hey there Prince”, a soft voice breaks his train of thought. “We might have a problem. I need to go for a two day council, there is reports of more dark forces in the forest.”
I find her eyes searching mine, “Surely I can be off help, I had a skirmish with that horrible dark caster, we need to work together”, Nanthal pleads.
“If the Grove finds out, if my father finds out I have been harboring and outsider and a human at that, I would be called to task!”, she announces out loud. She realizes her misstep and takes the prince’s hand. Softly she re-iterates, “I am of a higher class, I cannot just be forgiven. The secrets of our Grove, of our forest are only open to a select few.”
Nanthal pauses for a second as he lifts himself up to his knees. “Higher class?”, he questions. “Are you of elven royalty, Adnilia?” She stops herself from giving a reply as she readies food and drinks and place it next to him. “Food and drink, while I am gone”, she softly says. “Please stay put, I will find a way to get you back.”
She opens her wardrobe and takes out a fine silk robe. Gold in base color, with green trimmings down the site and a rusty brown pattern at base and cuffs of the sleeves. She takes a silver circlet from the drawer inside the wardrobe and places it upon her hair. Nanthal finds himself staring at the beauty in front of him. He swears he sees a almost magical glow around her. She sprays some sort of perfume or scented water on herself.
She turns to him and smiles. Knowing she has him enthralled, she bends to, a few inches from his face. “I might not have all I wanted in this world, but right now I have the attention of this man”, she says out of character, as they both blush in a lovely moment of innocence.
She fastens a belt with her dagger holstered on the side. He stands up and as she steps out of the room replies, “Come back soon, here you are all I know and trust young maiden”.
Hesitant footsteps trail away as another moment of boredom enters the Princes’ day. Quickly followed by a stinging pain as he collapses to the tree house floor, trying to stay awake, but being taken out by a dark burst of hatred from within.
He is not from here
Adnilia finds more elves walking in process, to the large tree in the middle of her village, multiple bows and acknowledgements of her stature finds her ears. As per custom she nods and smiles softly. Careful not to nod too low or smile too much or not enough at all. After a few hundred years, she has learnt the cost of an incorrect adherence to culture.
The seven chairs, of yellow wood, carved and laden with fine jewels wait. Five already taken, the center seat and the one just to the right of it is open. She bows before the Grove leaders and takes her seat. Just finding her purchase as her Father approaches in the distance.
She sees a stiffness in his demeanor. He approaches with less comfort in his stride and there is a hard intent behind his eyes. Behind him guards also forms in a tight formation. A small squad but, dragging the body of someone.
A cold feeling comes over her, as she recognizes the prince, out cold and muttering in a fever-like state.
“We have a serious matter on the agenda today”, he announces to all as he greets to entire Grove and stops with stern look at his daugther. “I Lastihl hereby start this weekly meeting of the Grove of the Salanirth”, as no other elf even dares to draw a single breath.
