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Sharing: The Mistress of the Shadowland; The next Chapter
Here is the next chapter of my Fic "The Mistress of the Shadowland" and I really hope you'll enjoy it. ♥
Chapter 3: One in the light, the other in the shadows
Summary:
Since her childhood, Anwyn has been aware that the High Elves of the Blackwater Lands are no friends of their human inhabitants. Nevertheless, the young elf Trálír insists on being a help to her. He seems to be the exact opposite of what she thinks she knows about the elves. Little does she know that he comes from a family whose attitude towards humans and half-elves is anything but friendly and accommodating.
Trálír himself is reminded of this when he gets into conversation with his younger brother that evening.
This is all just a dream, Anwyn thought, shaking her head in disbelief. This simply could not be reality. No Elf in these lands would ever stand by a human.
And yet the young woman had to watch as the High Elf returned to the table with a bucket of fresh drinking water and turned his attention back to gutting the fish.
Trálír smiled as he skillfully cut up one after the other and finally let it slide into the bucket. When he had finished, he would carry it to the spring and wash the gutted fish under the running water before placing them in the brine.
The sun blazed down on him and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. When he had cut up another one, he put the knife aside and washed his hands in the bucket of fish he had already gutted. He didn't seem to mind the muddy water and the processed fish, so he shook his hands dry, undid the buttons of his tunic at the wrists and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, giving Anwyn a view of his toned forearms.
Trálír was well aware that the young girl behind him was looking at him.
He felt her gaze on his back just as much as the sun's rays burning down on him. As he silently worked on the pile of fish, he noticed even more than her gaze.
A flood of emotions opened up to him as he concentrated on his ability to perceive feelings as well as thoughts.
Curiosity, disbelief, suspicion, interest were some of the emotions she came up with. Countless questions could be found inside her and he sensed that she was struggling with herself because on the one side she wanted to ask him everything that was on her mind, but on the other side she failed because of her learned distrust of the high elves. The most pressing question that dominated her mind was why he was doing all of this.
And this thought made Trálír smile, because he asked himself the same question.
As he gutted one fish after another, he thought about the reason why he was here at this bay, doing a chore that not even the lowest elf would do?
Freedom. He felt free and there were no expectations of him. And he liked that, it gave him a feeling of happiness.
Here he was, Trálír, son of the High Elf, next ruler of the Blackwaterlands and taking fish like a normal inhabitant.
There were no intrigues here, no countless conversations about borders, attacks or approaches to the enemy. Here, he didn't have to spend hours poring over the millennia-old history of the High Elves, which he had been able to recite word for word since he could read.
There were no conversations, no discussions with the monks and, above all, no encounters with his father, whose ever angry gaze followed him step by step.
He was just standing next to this small, crooked wooden house. Trálír felt the sweat running down his back as he carried out such a simple task in the sun and it reminded him of his years when he was still a boy and was allowed to ride out the horses with his stable master in his rare free time.
When the horses needed a break from the long ride, Fairre would take him to a small pound where they would sit on the meadow and catch fish. The stable master had taught him how to gut and prepare the fish and the young high elf felt closer to him than to his own father.
Trálír took the last fish and let it slide into the water bucket, which was filled to the brim. Without saying a word, he grabbed it, went to the spring and washed every single fish in the fresh water.
Suddenly Trálír sensed that he was not alone. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the young girl standing behind him.
“Shouldn't you be resting your injury?" he asked her, smiling as he saw her cheeks redden slightly.
"I... I feel useless if I can't help you," she confessed, interlacing her fingers nervously.
"You're not useless, you have a sprained ankle. The more you rest, the sooner you'll be able to do your daily chores again."
Trálír stood up and reached for the bucket. "But of course I won't forbid you if you want to help me. We'll just choose an easier activity for you that won't put too much strain on your feet. What do you think if I carry the heavy bucket into the house and you put the fish in the brine? Would that suit you?"
Anwyn nodded with a relieved sigh. Together they walked the few steps back to the house. Trálír frowned as he observed that Anwyn was still limping.
Before she entered the house, Trálír stopped and looked at her questioningly.
"Is there any other work that needs to be done?"
Anwyn shook her head quickly, but he saw her biting her lips.
"Don't be ashamed," he said, his gaze full of warmth. "I'm happy to help you."
"But why are you doing this? I don't understand. Why are you helping me?" she asked in surprise and Trálír shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know," he replied. "It feels right."
Shaking her head again, Anwyn looked up at him.
"It feels right?" she repeated, disbelief in her voice. "You are an Elf, an High Elf. How …" She took a deep breath. "Why are you helping someone like me, a human?"
Trálír stepped past Anwyn into the house and placed the bucket on the table. He heard her follow him.
"Your opinion of High Elves seems to be low," he stated matter-of-factly.
"And that surprises you?"
Dismayed by the bitterness in her voice, Trálír raised a dark eyebrow.
"Well, I must confess that many elves from my clan..."
"...suffer from conceit?" she interrupted him and there was clearly to hear the annoyance in her voice.
She didn't seem to have had very good experiences with his kind, Trálír thought.
"Well, I can't argue with that," the High Elf admitted openly. "I'm sorry if your experiences with my clan have been so disappointing."
"Disappointing? I wish it were disappointment, but your kind seem to enjoy humiliating others, especially when it comes to humans. There is not one rational reason to treat others like this, but yet they do it out of some unfathomable pleasure in hurting others."
Trálír looked at the young woman in silence, seeing the displeasure in her brown eyes. She avoided his gaze, sat down at the table and reached for a fish from the bucket.
"Do you want to tell me what happened to you?" Trálír asked.
"Why should you care?"
"Why shouldn't I? I wouldn't ask you this question if I wasn't honestly interested."
He sat down on the chair opposite and looked at her.
"My father delivers fish to the Blackwater Castle and the coins they give him in return is a slap in the face to this man who goes out to sea every morning before dawn and faces the dangers there. Every morning I pray to the gods that he comes home safe and sound. He is old and sick, aches and pains torment him but he doesn't complain. He makes the arduous journey to the castle with our donkey, delivers the proceeds of his daily fishing there every week and silently endures how the elves treat him, full of condescension because he is old, a human. And yet he is only paid a few coins for the hard and dangerous work he does. This is not fair."
Resentment was in her words.
"If I were in his place, the High Elves from the Blackwater Castle would have to catch their own fish. I would rather sell them on the markets of Helmark, because the merchants there pay the same amount that my father receives from the high elves. And Helmarks inhabitants are mostly criminals. It's not enough to live or die on."
Silence filled the small house while the young woman processed the fish.
"I understand," Trálír said, regret in his voice.
His stomach knotted painfully at the fact that this young girl, whom he still didn't know her name, was talking about the inhabitants of the castle. His father's castle. Their eyes met and this time he saw no more anger in them, only a deep pain. And the unpleasant reality of this unfair treatment.
"When will your father return?" he asked, looking out the open door.
"At sunset," she replied, and there was a deep exhaustion in her voice to hear.
"As I am in your debt regarding the behavior of my clan, I am now obliged to help you for a while longer." Trálír stood up and Anwyn looked at him, startled.
"No, please don't," she replied quickly. "My words were not meant like that. You are not responsible for how others behave and you are not accountable to me."
A soft smile played around the High Elf's lips, which also reached his blue-green eyes.
"What work should I do before your father comes home? And please don't hold back, I am happy to help."
"The stable," Anwyn gave in because she suspected that the High Elf would not be dissuaded from his plan. "The stable needs mucking out. The two goats will find their own way into the run, Oksa the donkey will have to be led in."
"So be it."
*****
Trálír spent the next two hours mucking out the stable while the girl, still unknown to him, sat in the house and processed the fish in the brine.
As she had announced, the two goats found their own way into the run while he had to lead the donkey out of the stable. His stallion Arod, who until then had been standing next to the wooden shed eating grass, whinnied to indicate that he wanted to follow the donkey. He sniffed with interest at the older animal, which was good-naturedly tolerating his curiosity.
Trálír carried out his work in silence and when he had finished, he led the goats back into the stable without resistance. He clicked his tongue and his horse, which had been standing next to the old donkey for the last two hours, came walking towards him at a leisurely pace. To his surprise, he watched as the old donkey followed Arod and then allowed himself to be led into the stable.
Trálír looked at the horizon and saw that the sun was slowly setting and the firmament was turning reddish. He was aware that the girl's father could appear at any moment and he wanted to avoid running into him out of a need not to get her into trouble for his presence. He turned in the direction of the house and saw her standing in the doorway.
"I wish I could invite you to dinner to thank you. It's not much, but..."
"That's not necessary," Trálír interrupted her in a gentle voice. "I don't expect anything in return for my help."
He stepped towards her and cleared his throat.
"Would you allow me to visit you again in two days?"
Anwyn nodded slowly even though her gaze was questioning.
"To see how the healing of your sprained ankle is progressing, of course."
Trálír gave her a smile, then turned away, strode towards his black horse and swung himself elegantly onto the saddle. He clicked his tongue once more to signal the stallion to set off.
Suddenly he heard the girl say something and he glanced over his shoulder.
"Anwyn," she said with a shy smile. "My name is Anwyn."
*****
Late in the evening, Trálír sat in his chamber by candlelight at his table, which was covered in numerous documents and scrolls. He was so absorbed in them that he overheared a knock at the door.
It was only when he heard footsteps that he looked up to see his younger brother. As he was dressed completely in black, it would have been impossible to recognize him in the darkness of the night, so much so that he blended in with it.
"What brings you here at this time?" Trálír asked while Teárlach asked the following question: "What are you being forced to do now?"
The older brother laughed softly and looked at Teárlach challengingly. "Well, where have you been? It's well past midnight."
Teárlach shrugged his shoulders and removed his leather gloves as he walked towards an armchair that stood at an angle to Trálír's desk and was made of sturdy oak with a dark blue velvet seat cushion.
"This and that," he replied calmly and sank into the armchair.
"Which could mean that you have been pursuing your magical interests in some dark and mysterious crypts, couldn't it?" asked Trálír.
Teárlach gave his brother a nonchalant smile. "Possibly?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if there were rumors about you and some strange cult," he said, mockery in his voice. But Teárlach was well aware that the words of his older brother was only superficial and he wanted to know if there was any truth to the rumors.
As Teárlach sat in the shadows and the pale light of the candles was only reflected in his amber eyes, it looked for a moment as if a demon was looking at Trálír from the depths of darkness.
But then he heard Teárlach laugh.
"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," the younger brother replied. "A little magic never hurt anyone, especially not us High Elves. It is nothing more than a little distraction."
Trálír looked at Teárlach with a furrowed brow.
"Is that so? Our clan has used magic to subjugate other lands and learned spells to enslave others," he replied. "I would remind you that in the centuries of our existence there have been one or two High Elves who have turned out to be warlocks by making dark pacts. And it has been more than thousands of years since a High Elf was born who turned out to be a Wizard."
Teárlach looked at his older brother and raised an eyebrow.
"There are only these two options, Teárlach. You learn spells or you make a pact with evil."
His words hung like a dark shadow between him and his younger brother.
"So you're implying that I would make a pact with evil?" Teárlach asked emotionlessly and Trálír's heart stopped for a moment.
Would it really be possible that words whispered in the dark would lead to a pact that could bring disaster to everyone in this land? Would his younger brother really be capable of that? he asked himself with an anxious heart.
"Trálír, brother, my heart is pure. I only use magic as an occupation against my boredom, like I told you a few moments ago," the younger brother replied with a serene smile on his beautifully curved lips. "As a second-born, I have no important task, so I play with a spell or two. You don't have to fill your heart with worry." He shrugged his shoulders. Trálír nodded slowly and looked intently at his brother, who leaned forward and reached for a crystal decanter filled with red wine to pour himself a glass that stood beside it.
He leaned back in his chair and watched the younger elf, who took a sip of red wine and finally looked at Trálír.
"And what makes you immerse your handsome face in these numerous writings in the middle of the night?" Teárlach pointed to the scrolls.
"I'm getting an overview of the goods that are being delivered."
Teárlach raised an eyebrow and looked at Trálír in confusion.
"Deliveries of goods? Shouldn't that be the duty of our castle warden? Why do you care?"
"Shouldn't that also be my task when I take over from our father?" he asked his brother, who let out a snort.
"For one thing, it will be decades before father leaves the throne to you and for another, such work is intended for our castle lord. You, as firstborn, as ruler, do not have to deal with such trifles."
"For the people of our land, these are not trifles," Trálír replied in a serious voice and Teárlach began to laugh.
"Trálír, brother, I know that spending your time with other elves bores you. I am well aware that you prefer the silence of the forest and that you set off on a hunt whenever there is a chance that you might have to deal with politics, but human inhabitents of our lands? What do you care about humans?"
It was on the tip of Trálír's tongue to say that Teárlach sounded like their father, but he swallowed his words as he suspected that his younger brother would be annoyed and possibly getting angry by this statement. So he just shrugged his shoulders, but the Secondborn didn't let that distract him.
"Now tell me what's going on in the firstborn's head?" he asked Trálír.
"There must be a reason why you are suddenly concerned about our human inhabitants. You even avoid contact with your own kind, so what could humans give you that you can't get from our own people?"
Trálír did not answer, instead he reached for a second glass on the table and poured himself some wine. As he took a sip, he felt the waiting gaze of his younger brother on him.
"So you don't want to share your secrets and plans with me, huh?" Teárlach asked, raising an eyebrow with interest.
"There are no secrets," Trálír replied and looked at him with a blank expression.
"Really, is that so?" asked Teárlach and took another sip. "Then I take it that you have suddenly made a ... human acquaintance?
His piercing gaze from amber-colored eyes caused Trálír's heart to stop beating for a moment.
To his detriment Teárlach had a very good sense of his older brother's feelings and thoughts. He casually sank back into the comfortable armchair and smiled contentedly at Trálír.
"I see," he said and his dark voice sounded velvety soft. "A human lover? I am surprised, brother. I would have rather imagined you drunk to the bone, seducing the first willing elf in the castle garden. Or staying a virgin for the first 500 years of your life." Teárlach raised his glass and toasted him. "But it seems that you are closer to the human women. They are willing little beasts who will do anything for you if you just make them feel special."
„Well, then I certainly won't contradict you," Trálír said and also raised his glass to show Teárlach that he was of the same opinion. But nothing was further from his mind than the words of his brother, who was only two years younger. It was repugnant to him to even waste a thought on thinking such a thing. Nevertheless, Trálír did not want to confess to him what was really on his mind.
"Well, I think it's getting late," he said to Teárlach, sitting up and pointing to his bed at the other end of the large chamber. "I wish you a good night, Teárlach."
His younger brother placed the glass on the table and grinned at Trálír. "Then I wish you some pleasant dreams." He winked at him, rose from the armchair and left without saying another word the room.
When he heard the door quietly close, Trálír literally slumped down.
He had to make sure with all his might that no one, not a single person from this castle, would find out that this young woman, a human, had sparked his interest.
Trálír could find no obvious reason, nor could he find words for the feeling inside him that made him realize that nothing good would happen if his father or even his brother knew about his visits to Anwyn.
Chapter 3: One in the light, the other in the shadows
Summary:
Since her childhood, Anwyn has been aware that the High Elves of the Blackwater Lands are no friends of their human inhabitants. Nevertheless, the young elf Trálír insists on being a help to her. He seems to be the exact opposite of what she thinks she knows about the elves. Little does she know that he comes from a family whose attitude towards humans and half-elves is anything but friendly and accommodating.
Trálír himself is reminded of this when he gets into conversation with his younger brother that evening.
This is all just a dream, Anwyn thought, shaking her head in disbelief. This simply could not be reality. No Elf in these lands would ever stand by a human.
And yet the young woman had to watch as the High Elf returned to the table with a bucket of fresh drinking water and turned his attention back to gutting the fish.
Trálír smiled as he skillfully cut up one after the other and finally let it slide into the bucket. When he had finished, he would carry it to the spring and wash the gutted fish under the running water before placing them in the brine.
The sun blazed down on him and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. When he had cut up another one, he put the knife aside and washed his hands in the bucket of fish he had already gutted. He didn't seem to mind the muddy water and the processed fish, so he shook his hands dry, undid the buttons of his tunic at the wrists and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, giving Anwyn a view of his toned forearms.
Trálír was well aware that the young girl behind him was looking at him.
He felt her gaze on his back just as much as the sun's rays burning down on him. As he silently worked on the pile of fish, he noticed even more than her gaze.
A flood of emotions opened up to him as he concentrated on his ability to perceive feelings as well as thoughts.
Curiosity, disbelief, suspicion, interest were some of the emotions she came up with. Countless questions could be found inside her and he sensed that she was struggling with herself because on the one side she wanted to ask him everything that was on her mind, but on the other side she failed because of her learned distrust of the high elves. The most pressing question that dominated her mind was why he was doing all of this.
And this thought made Trálír smile, because he asked himself the same question.
As he gutted one fish after another, he thought about the reason why he was here at this bay, doing a chore that not even the lowest elf would do?
Freedom. He felt free and there were no expectations of him. And he liked that, it gave him a feeling of happiness.
Here he was, Trálír, son of the High Elf, next ruler of the Blackwaterlands and taking fish like a normal inhabitant.
There were no intrigues here, no countless conversations about borders, attacks or approaches to the enemy. Here, he didn't have to spend hours poring over the millennia-old history of the High Elves, which he had been able to recite word for word since he could read.
There were no conversations, no discussions with the monks and, above all, no encounters with his father, whose ever angry gaze followed him step by step.
He was just standing next to this small, crooked wooden house. Trálír felt the sweat running down his back as he carried out such a simple task in the sun and it reminded him of his years when he was still a boy and was allowed to ride out the horses with his stable master in his rare free time.
When the horses needed a break from the long ride, Fairre would take him to a small pound where they would sit on the meadow and catch fish. The stable master had taught him how to gut and prepare the fish and the young high elf felt closer to him than to his own father.
Trálír took the last fish and let it slide into the water bucket, which was filled to the brim. Without saying a word, he grabbed it, went to the spring and washed every single fish in the fresh water.
Suddenly Trálír sensed that he was not alone. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the young girl standing behind him.
“Shouldn't you be resting your injury?" he asked her, smiling as he saw her cheeks redden slightly.
"I... I feel useless if I can't help you," she confessed, interlacing her fingers nervously.
"You're not useless, you have a sprained ankle. The more you rest, the sooner you'll be able to do your daily chores again."
Trálír stood up and reached for the bucket. "But of course I won't forbid you if you want to help me. We'll just choose an easier activity for you that won't put too much strain on your feet. What do you think if I carry the heavy bucket into the house and you put the fish in the brine? Would that suit you?"
Anwyn nodded with a relieved sigh. Together they walked the few steps back to the house. Trálír frowned as he observed that Anwyn was still limping.
Before she entered the house, Trálír stopped and looked at her questioningly.
"Is there any other work that needs to be done?"
Anwyn shook her head quickly, but he saw her biting her lips.
"Don't be ashamed," he said, his gaze full of warmth. "I'm happy to help you."
"But why are you doing this? I don't understand. Why are you helping me?" she asked in surprise and Trálír shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know," he replied. "It feels right."
Shaking her head again, Anwyn looked up at him.
"It feels right?" she repeated, disbelief in her voice. "You are an Elf, an High Elf. How …" She took a deep breath. "Why are you helping someone like me, a human?"
Trálír stepped past Anwyn into the house and placed the bucket on the table. He heard her follow him.
"Your opinion of High Elves seems to be low," he stated matter-of-factly.
"And that surprises you?"
Dismayed by the bitterness in her voice, Trálír raised a dark eyebrow.
"Well, I must confess that many elves from my clan..."
"...suffer from conceit?" she interrupted him and there was clearly to hear the annoyance in her voice.
She didn't seem to have had very good experiences with his kind, Trálír thought.
"Well, I can't argue with that," the High Elf admitted openly. "I'm sorry if your experiences with my clan have been so disappointing."
"Disappointing? I wish it were disappointment, but your kind seem to enjoy humiliating others, especially when it comes to humans. There is not one rational reason to treat others like this, but yet they do it out of some unfathomable pleasure in hurting others."
Trálír looked at the young woman in silence, seeing the displeasure in her brown eyes. She avoided his gaze, sat down at the table and reached for a fish from the bucket.
"Do you want to tell me what happened to you?" Trálír asked.
"Why should you care?"
"Why shouldn't I? I wouldn't ask you this question if I wasn't honestly interested."
He sat down on the chair opposite and looked at her.
"My father delivers fish to the Blackwater Castle and the coins they give him in return is a slap in the face to this man who goes out to sea every morning before dawn and faces the dangers there. Every morning I pray to the gods that he comes home safe and sound. He is old and sick, aches and pains torment him but he doesn't complain. He makes the arduous journey to the castle with our donkey, delivers the proceeds of his daily fishing there every week and silently endures how the elves treat him, full of condescension because he is old, a human. And yet he is only paid a few coins for the hard and dangerous work he does. This is not fair."
Resentment was in her words.
"If I were in his place, the High Elves from the Blackwater Castle would have to catch their own fish. I would rather sell them on the markets of Helmark, because the merchants there pay the same amount that my father receives from the high elves. And Helmarks inhabitants are mostly criminals. It's not enough to live or die on."
Silence filled the small house while the young woman processed the fish.
"I understand," Trálír said, regret in his voice.
His stomach knotted painfully at the fact that this young girl, whom he still didn't know her name, was talking about the inhabitants of the castle. His father's castle. Their eyes met and this time he saw no more anger in them, only a deep pain. And the unpleasant reality of this unfair treatment.
"When will your father return?" he asked, looking out the open door.
"At sunset," she replied, and there was a deep exhaustion in her voice to hear.
"As I am in your debt regarding the behavior of my clan, I am now obliged to help you for a while longer." Trálír stood up and Anwyn looked at him, startled.
"No, please don't," she replied quickly. "My words were not meant like that. You are not responsible for how others behave and you are not accountable to me."
A soft smile played around the High Elf's lips, which also reached his blue-green eyes.
"What work should I do before your father comes home? And please don't hold back, I am happy to help."
"The stable," Anwyn gave in because she suspected that the High Elf would not be dissuaded from his plan. "The stable needs mucking out. The two goats will find their own way into the run, Oksa the donkey will have to be led in."
"So be it."
*****
Trálír spent the next two hours mucking out the stable while the girl, still unknown to him, sat in the house and processed the fish in the brine.
As she had announced, the two goats found their own way into the run while he had to lead the donkey out of the stable. His stallion Arod, who until then had been standing next to the wooden shed eating grass, whinnied to indicate that he wanted to follow the donkey. He sniffed with interest at the older animal, which was good-naturedly tolerating his curiosity.
Trálír carried out his work in silence and when he had finished, he led the goats back into the stable without resistance. He clicked his tongue and his horse, which had been standing next to the old donkey for the last two hours, came walking towards him at a leisurely pace. To his surprise, he watched as the old donkey followed Arod and then allowed himself to be led into the stable.
Trálír looked at the horizon and saw that the sun was slowly setting and the firmament was turning reddish. He was aware that the girl's father could appear at any moment and he wanted to avoid running into him out of a need not to get her into trouble for his presence. He turned in the direction of the house and saw her standing in the doorway.
"I wish I could invite you to dinner to thank you. It's not much, but..."
"That's not necessary," Trálír interrupted her in a gentle voice. "I don't expect anything in return for my help."
He stepped towards her and cleared his throat.
"Would you allow me to visit you again in two days?"
Anwyn nodded slowly even though her gaze was questioning.
"To see how the healing of your sprained ankle is progressing, of course."
Trálír gave her a smile, then turned away, strode towards his black horse and swung himself elegantly onto the saddle. He clicked his tongue once more to signal the stallion to set off.
Suddenly he heard the girl say something and he glanced over his shoulder.
"Anwyn," she said with a shy smile. "My name is Anwyn."
*****
Late in the evening, Trálír sat in his chamber by candlelight at his table, which was covered in numerous documents and scrolls. He was so absorbed in them that he overheared a knock at the door.
It was only when he heard footsteps that he looked up to see his younger brother. As he was dressed completely in black, it would have been impossible to recognize him in the darkness of the night, so much so that he blended in with it.
"What brings you here at this time?" Trálír asked while Teárlach asked the following question: "What are you being forced to do now?"
The older brother laughed softly and looked at Teárlach challengingly. "Well, where have you been? It's well past midnight."
Teárlach shrugged his shoulders and removed his leather gloves as he walked towards an armchair that stood at an angle to Trálír's desk and was made of sturdy oak with a dark blue velvet seat cushion.
"This and that," he replied calmly and sank into the armchair.
"Which could mean that you have been pursuing your magical interests in some dark and mysterious crypts, couldn't it?" asked Trálír.
Teárlach gave his brother a nonchalant smile. "Possibly?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if there were rumors about you and some strange cult," he said, mockery in his voice. But Teárlach was well aware that the words of his older brother was only superficial and he wanted to know if there was any truth to the rumors.
As Teárlach sat in the shadows and the pale light of the candles was only reflected in his amber eyes, it looked for a moment as if a demon was looking at Trálír from the depths of darkness.
But then he heard Teárlach laugh.
"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," the younger brother replied. "A little magic never hurt anyone, especially not us High Elves. It is nothing more than a little distraction."
Trálír looked at Teárlach with a furrowed brow.
"Is that so? Our clan has used magic to subjugate other lands and learned spells to enslave others," he replied. "I would remind you that in the centuries of our existence there have been one or two High Elves who have turned out to be warlocks by making dark pacts. And it has been more than thousands of years since a High Elf was born who turned out to be a Wizard."
Teárlach looked at his older brother and raised an eyebrow.
"There are only these two options, Teárlach. You learn spells or you make a pact with evil."
His words hung like a dark shadow between him and his younger brother.
"So you're implying that I would make a pact with evil?" Teárlach asked emotionlessly and Trálír's heart stopped for a moment.
Would it really be possible that words whispered in the dark would lead to a pact that could bring disaster to everyone in this land? Would his younger brother really be capable of that? he asked himself with an anxious heart.
"Trálír, brother, my heart is pure. I only use magic as an occupation against my boredom, like I told you a few moments ago," the younger brother replied with a serene smile on his beautifully curved lips. "As a second-born, I have no important task, so I play with a spell or two. You don't have to fill your heart with worry." He shrugged his shoulders. Trálír nodded slowly and looked intently at his brother, who leaned forward and reached for a crystal decanter filled with red wine to pour himself a glass that stood beside it.
He leaned back in his chair and watched the younger elf, who took a sip of red wine and finally looked at Trálír.
"And what makes you immerse your handsome face in these numerous writings in the middle of the night?" Teárlach pointed to the scrolls.
"I'm getting an overview of the goods that are being delivered."
Teárlach raised an eyebrow and looked at Trálír in confusion.
"Deliveries of goods? Shouldn't that be the duty of our castle warden? Why do you care?"
"Shouldn't that also be my task when I take over from our father?" he asked his brother, who let out a snort.
"For one thing, it will be decades before father leaves the throne to you and for another, such work is intended for our castle lord. You, as firstborn, as ruler, do not have to deal with such trifles."
"For the people of our land, these are not trifles," Trálír replied in a serious voice and Teárlach began to laugh.
"Trálír, brother, I know that spending your time with other elves bores you. I am well aware that you prefer the silence of the forest and that you set off on a hunt whenever there is a chance that you might have to deal with politics, but human inhabitents of our lands? What do you care about humans?"
It was on the tip of Trálír's tongue to say that Teárlach sounded like their father, but he swallowed his words as he suspected that his younger brother would be annoyed and possibly getting angry by this statement. So he just shrugged his shoulders, but the Secondborn didn't let that distract him.
"Now tell me what's going on in the firstborn's head?" he asked Trálír.
"There must be a reason why you are suddenly concerned about our human inhabitants. You even avoid contact with your own kind, so what could humans give you that you can't get from our own people?"
Trálír did not answer, instead he reached for a second glass on the table and poured himself some wine. As he took a sip, he felt the waiting gaze of his younger brother on him.
"So you don't want to share your secrets and plans with me, huh?" Teárlach asked, raising an eyebrow with interest.
"There are no secrets," Trálír replied and looked at him with a blank expression.
"Really, is that so?" asked Teárlach and took another sip. "Then I take it that you have suddenly made a ... human acquaintance?
His piercing gaze from amber-colored eyes caused Trálír's heart to stop beating for a moment.
To his detriment Teárlach had a very good sense of his older brother's feelings and thoughts. He casually sank back into the comfortable armchair and smiled contentedly at Trálír.
"I see," he said and his dark voice sounded velvety soft. "A human lover? I am surprised, brother. I would have rather imagined you drunk to the bone, seducing the first willing elf in the castle garden. Or staying a virgin for the first 500 years of your life." Teárlach raised his glass and toasted him. "But it seems that you are closer to the human women. They are willing little beasts who will do anything for you if you just make them feel special."
„Well, then I certainly won't contradict you," Trálír said and also raised his glass to show Teárlach that he was of the same opinion. But nothing was further from his mind than the words of his brother, who was only two years younger. It was repugnant to him to even waste a thought on thinking such a thing. Nevertheless, Trálír did not want to confess to him what was really on his mind.
"Well, I think it's getting late," he said to Teárlach, sitting up and pointing to his bed at the other end of the large chamber. "I wish you a good night, Teárlach."
His younger brother placed the glass on the table and grinned at Trálír. "Then I wish you some pleasant dreams." He winked at him, rose from the armchair and left without saying another word the room.
When he heard the door quietly close, Trálír literally slumped down.
He had to make sure with all his might that no one, not a single person from this castle, would find out that this young woman, a human, had sparked his interest.
Trálír could find no obvious reason, nor could he find words for the feeling inside him that made him realize that nothing good would happen if his father or even his brother knew about his visits to Anwyn.
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