haebin

Here is the next chapter, I hope you'll enjoy it!
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Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV - Chapter V - Chapter VI - Chapter VII - Chapter VIII - Chapter IX - Chapter X

Anwyn sat at the table, one of her father's tunics in her hands and leaned forward a little to see better in the light of the candles. She gnawed on her lower lip, lost in thought, as she carefully mended the fabric with needle and thread. Her father sat opposite her and silently carved small animal figures from wood he had once collected. Every year when winter receded and spring arrived, when the temperatures became more pleasant and the snow melted, he would visit the villages in the area and try to sell his wooden toys. However, as most of the villagers had hardly anything and many had lost their lives in the harsh winter, he ended up giving the toys to the children for free and making his way back to their home without a coin in his pocket.
The winter had been cruel to the Blackwater Lands and its inhabitants, and so piercingly cold that he and Anwyn had decided to store their table and stool, as well as his daughter's sleeping quarters, in the cellar and share their living space with the donkey and the two goats to ensure that they would not freeze to death. Anwyn's father had quickly fetched a few wooden planks from the cellar and put together a knee-high barrier to prevent the animals from wandering around in the narrow space. Anwyn had then lined this makeshift stable with hay so that the animals were comfortable and it was easier for them to replace the used hay with fresh hay.
Anwyn had also made a small bed out of dry grass at the end of the bed where her father slept.
Despite her efforts to protect her animals, the oldest goat died of weakness and hunger early one morning.
The faint bleating came through Anwyn's light sleep and she startled. When she saw the goat lying on the ground, she rushed to it and stroked its lean yet bloated belly, whispering gentle words of reassurance.
Her father had also awoken and looked sadly at Anwyn, who could not hold back her tears as the goat grew weaker and weaker and died under her gentle hands.
Finally, Anwyn and her father heaved the goat's body outside and laid it on a table-like slab in the freezing cold. Anwyn went back into the house and stroked Oksa's fur sadly as she listened to her father dismember the goat and set aside whatever they might need for the future. The meat would be preserved with lots of salt, tendons could be used as sewing material and she would take care of the hide so that they could use it accordingly.

That evening she had cooked a hearty soup of bone marrow that her father had enjoyed very much. Anwyn herself had barely eaten a spoonful.
After a while, Anwyn looked out the open door and saw puddles of red blood on the frozen snow, forming an abstract pattern of red and white.
She spent the whole morning taking the lean meat to the cellar and curing it there. It was so cold that her limbs ached, but it was still a far cry from the freezing cold outside.
And even though Anwyn liked the silence itself and life had slowed down during the long winter, it gave her enough time to deal with her thoughts and feelings, especially at night when she lay in the dark and couldn't fall asleep.
It had been weeks since Trálír had left her and yet she had not been able to banish him from her heart. It was still filled with all the wonderful moments she and Trálír had experienced together.
And when she remembered a happy moment, it wasn't long before an all-encompassing feeling of sadness and loss almost engulfed her.
Since that fateful day when Trálír had made the decision to leave her behind, Anwyn lay on her bed at night and wept in the silence of her loneliness.

"I see how you have changed, Anwyn. You hardly speak, you hardly eat, your eyes have lost their sparkle."
"It's the winter, father. For the few hours we are allowed daylight, there is little to do. We spend day in and day out in this room, trying to divide up our food so that we can survive the winter. Between cleaning the room and the little we can eat, there is no time for conversation. We listen to the crackling of the fire, words hardly have a place in this cold."
Shrugging, she looked at her father.
"Don't worry about me, father."
Doran sighed heavily.
"I listen to your tears in the night, Anwyn. It worries me."
The young woman stared at the needle and thread in her hand and swallowed.
"It will pass," she whispered, "it will pass for sure."
And with those words, she turned her concentration back to the tunic and tried to ignore her aching heart.

*****

As Trálír slowly awoke from his deep sleep, the first thing he felt was a pleasant warmth on his face. Sleepily, he raised his hand to his eyes and realized that they were bathed in the warm light of the sun. The elf sat up quickly and felt his heart pounding with excitement. He had waited so long for this day, almost longed for it, and finally it had come. With a smile, he lifted his naked body out from under the thick furs and stood in front of the window for a moment. A blue, cloudless sky could be seen and his skin was covered in goose bumps as it was still too cool to stand in the room without proper clothing, lost in thought. Despite everything, he enjoyed the faint rays of sunlight that gently enveloped him.

Spring was not far off, it would get warmer every day, the snow would melt, nature would blossom again, the animals of the forest would awaken from their hibernation and crawl out of their burrows.
He could leave the castle again, roam the woods, go hunting.
With a relieved sigh, Trálír stepped out of the sun and hurried to his ornately decorated oak closet. Thoughtlessly, he reached for his clothes and while he was getting dressed, he decided to forgo breakfast with his father and brother. This was a decision that his father did not approve of, but as long as Trálír turned up for his training sessions and lessons with the monks, he let him get away with it. And Teárlach?
Since the last rather unpleasant conversation with his younger brother and his proposal to overthrow their father from his throne, they had hardly spoken a word to each other. Although they saw each other every morning in the great hall at breakfast, they hardly exchanged a word. Just as Trálír had retreated to his chambers over the last four weeks, Teaálach was hardly to be seen. He was rumored to be spending his time with a mercenary named Liulfr which his father had taken into his service before the winter, though there wasn't really any work for him for the next few months. There were rumors that this one was a warlock, but there was no certainty to that claim. Nevertheless, Trálír was worried.
He had often wished that he had been the second-born, for had Teárlach been given the attention he was, he would hardly have been as drawn to the shadows and the darker side of their existence. He had the ability to impress guests, to flatter them, he loved to bathe in the attention of others. Even in politics, Teárlach would have excelled if only he had been given the chance to prove himself. Instead, he had been completely ignored and he, Trálír, had been forced to face a legacy that was so far away from him.

Nevertheless, he had been shocked by his younger brother's proposal to overthrow their father from the throne. If Trálír was forced to take the throne, he wanted to do so with a clear conscience. To begin his reign by overthrowing the old king was against everything he believed in and stood for.

Trálír had now dressed and left his chamber without a second glance. He quietly pulled the door shut and then walked along the corridor to the grand staircase. On the way there he met some maids and servants and he noticed from their radiant faces that they too were aware that the harsh winter would soon give way to spring.
Striding down the stairs, Trálír surveyed the great hall, saw numerous servants bringing food to the table, saw some of his father's soldiers and Teárlach, who was sitting on the wooden bench with an icy expression and staring ahead of him. His father was nowhere to be seen.
The high elf quickly ran down the few stairs, then kept to the left, past the door to the castle kitchen and straight to the large entrance door, which he opened. Before anyone could even notice that he had almost sneaked out, Trálír ran straight towards the stables. He gave the castle servants a friendly nod when they crossed his path.
Opening the stall door, he could already hear the joyful neighing of his horse, who had missed the rides with his master as much as he had. Smiling, Trálír walked over to Arod and placed his hands on his nostrils, stroking him with a contented smile on his lips.
He looked around but couldn't see the stable master.
Perhaps the old fellow is also enjoying his well-earned breakfast, Trálír thought and left Arod behind him to fetch the saddle and bridle, which he put on him.
Grabbing the reins, he led his stallion out, swung himself onto the saddle and pressed his heels lightly into his flank, causing Arod to fall into a walk.

As Trálír rode carefully down the steeply sloping path from the castle to the sea, he thought of the last few months and the decision he had made during that time.
The decision that he would now put into action and that would lead him to Anwyn. He knew that so many things spoke against their bond; from his father to his own race, from the prejudices of the humans to her father's worries about his daughter's future. Trálír was well aware that there were a great many reasons not to be by Anwyn's side, but he had chosen her.
Whether his father would like it or not, whether the elves of the Blackwater country would revile him or his brother would laugh at him for his feelings for a human woman, that no longer mattered to him.
He had decided for Anwyn, for his feelings, for the deep love and attachment he felt for her. If his father didn't like it, even banishment from the court and the country would be acceptable to Trálír as long as he could be by Anwyn's side.
He could make out the roof of the house in the distance and his heart, which had been beating hard the whole time, was now pounding up to his throat. He cleared his throat with nervousness and hoped that Anwyn would be there. And that she would forgive him for his mistake.

As Trálír shifted his weight, lowered himself into the saddle and gently pulled on the reins, Arod stopped. Her swung himself off the horse and looked nervously at the house, the door of which was closed. He glanced over his shoulder down to the beach, sure that he would spot Anwyn's father.
For a long time he had thought about what he would say to him when they would meet again, for he knew how Doran felt about Anwyn.
But it wasn't Doran who had to make the decision that would decide his future. That lay solely in the hands of the woman he loved so dearly.
Trálír looked back at the house, then turned to his horse and patted his flank lovingly.
"Stay, my boy. And don't get the idea to run away again if any monsters crawl onto the beach. At least warn me before you leave me behind," he said and took a deep breath. Then he walked up to the house and knocked gently on the door. He waited for a response, for a sound that would show him that someone was in the house.
But nothing but silence was the answer to the knock on the door.
Another knock, this time a little more forceful but the response to it was the same.
Trálír took a few steps back and carefully opened the stable door. He immediately realized that there was no one in the stable, only the donkey and a goat. Anwyn was still nowhere to be seen.
Could she be in the forest? he asked himself, but immediately dismissed the idea as there was nothing worth getting in the forest. There was still too much snow on the ground, the wood was soaked, mushrooms, berries and herbs would take weeks before they could be harvested.
He put his hands on his hips and looked around questioningly when a thought suddenly occurred to him that made him feel anxious.
The winter had been cruel, they had all had to make sacrifices during this icy time. Nevertheless, he had led a far more pleasant existence at the castle than the people in the villages. There was enough wood, there was enough to eat, no one had to freeze or starve.
Had it been the same for Anwyn? Had she gone hungry? Was she perhaps...?
Shaking his head, Trálír tried to suppress this thought, but it was persistent and whispered dark words of loss and fear.
Since the animals were still in the stable, someone must have survived. The Elf looked again at the beach but could not see the old fisherman's boat anywhere.
Was he at sea or had they used this as firewood? Unsure, Trálír bit his lower lip when he suddenly heard a noise.
He turned towards the source and walked in that direction.