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haebinHey hey, Lovelies.
I am sorry for the little break I had but so many things happening at this time, it's hard to write or to go even online. And this heat is not helping at all.
Anyway, here is my next chapter and I hope you'll enjoy it. ♥
The sun was already well past its midday zenith. Anwyn sat on a stool in the shade of the old stable, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, staring out to sea, lost in thought. Her eyes kept glancing westwards towards the Blackwater Castle, but nothing and no one had been seen for hours.
Like every morning, she had woken up full of vigour and although each of her days was accompanied by hard physical work, she had looked forward to midday with joy, knowing that Trálír had also announced his arrival for today. Even before the sun had risen, Anwyn had taken a quick dip in the spring riverbed, dressed, prepared breakfast, tended to the animals, said goodbye to her father and got on with the housework.
But to her astonishment, neither Conall nor Ulthred had driven up to the farm and Trálír's appearance was still a long time coming. Such moments happened only rarely, but when neither the half-elves nor Trálír appeared, worry began to creep into Anwyn's mind. She had no way of knowing what had happened and so her only option was to wait. And this was a real test of patience for Anwyn, as the most absurd thoughts began to form in her head. Be it a serious illness or an attack on the castle, an invasion by a foreign enemy who wanted to claim the Blackwater Lands for themselves. Of course Anwyn knew that the castle was impregnable, but not knowing how Trálír was and why he didn't come to her made her constantly fear the worst.
As neither he nor the half-elves had turned up, she had already finished her daily chore of gutting fish. She had picked up a book on the various diseases of the eye, but hadn't got very far because of her lack of concentration. The book was still in her lap as she gazed unhappily towards the west. Only a moment later, Anwyn heard the familiar whinny of Arod and jumped up with delight as the book fell from her lap to the ground. Anwyn strode towards the courtyard entrance as Trálír appeared on Arod's back in her field of vision. A smile slipped across her lips as she caught sight of him, but then she noticed the shadow on his face. Uncertain, she stopped a few steps away from him and watched in silence as he dismounted from the stallion, opened the stable door and led Arod inside. As Trálír stepped out of the stall and closed the door behind him, he finally looked at Anwyn and gave her a smile. She realised that his smile did not reach his eyes and she frowned questioningly.
But before she could utter a single word, Trálír wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close.
His head rested between her neck and her collarbone. Anwyn felt his warm breath through the fabric of her dress and she was aware of the heaviness of his sigh as it slipped over his lips. Her right hand also slid around his hip and tenderly caressed the area of his lower back that lay just above his waistband. She ran her left hand gently through his loose hair.
So they stood together, comforted and safe in each other's embrace, no words needed to show how they felt, for their hearts beat in time.
Anwyn leaned back a little and placed her hands gently on Trálír's face, urging him to look at her. He complied and when their eyes met, Anwyn was pained by the deep sadness she could see in his storm-tossed blue eyes.
"Do you want to tell me what is troubling your heart so much?" she asked softly, her thumb gliding gently over his cheek.
"I don't want to burden you with my worries," Trálír replied slowly, a sad smile on his lips.
"Come," Anwyn urged him and reached for his hand. "Let's go into the house and talk there."
She nodded to him and walked into the house hand in hand with Trálír. As they entered, she let go of his hand and took a pot of already brewed tea hanging from a thin metal rod over the makeshift fireplace and poured him and herself a cup of tea. When Anwyn turned to him, she saw that he was sitting on the edge of their campsite, his shoulders slumped.
She approached Trálír, handed him the cup of tea and sat down on her bed with her legs crossed. She waited in silence until Trálír spoke to her, his gaze fixed ahead.
"Since we elves live for centuries, we are often confronted with the deaths of humans and half-elves," he began in a low voice. "Mostly it's illness or old age, sometimes the inhabitants fall victim to robbery, murder or assault. However, the deaths at Blackwater Castle can be counted on one hand. And it is even rarer that someone chooses suicide."
Anwyn's eyes clouded over at Trálír's words, but she didn't interrupt him and gave him time to continue when he was ready.
"A kitchen maid took her own life tonight. She was found hanged in her chamber."
Anwyn placed her free hand on his, trying to give him the comfort he needed with this small gesture.
"And the worst part is that I don't even know her," he said, guilt in his voice. "I'm no better than my father, Anwyn. I take everyone around me for granted too, don't care who looks after our wellbeing. I know few of the humans or half-elves in our service."
He shook his head angrily, his shoulders tensing at the reproach he was giving himself.
"You're not like your father, Trálír," Anwyn said softly. "I know it pains you not to know everyone and not to give everyone the attention or the just existence you intend for the future, but the castle is large and you have your duties to fulfil. No ruler, no member of a ruling family looks after the interests of the servants. This happens neither in the ranks of the elves nor in the high houses of men."
"I know," Trálír replied in frustration. "But it pains me that this girl, almost a child, found no other way than this."
"Do you know why?" Anwyn asked cautiously and Trálír replied: "Some say she was ill. She probably couldn't cope with the loss of her child and therefore chose suicide."
"She was pregnant?" Trálír turned to Anwyn and frowned when he heard the almost fearful tone in her voice. He nodded slowly.
"Did you perhaps hear her name?" Anwyn asked quietly, trying to control her violently beating heart, the dark premonition creeping through her innermost being. Despondently, she looked at Trálír, who turned to her and nodded in confirmation.
"I heard her name was Sera," he replied and watched in horror as Anwyn reacted to his words.
Her brown eyes widened in shock and her skin lost all its colour in the next moment, it was as if Trálír was watching Anwyn's life force literally leave her. He watched as her fingers loosened as if all her strength was leaving her and the cup fell to the floor, shattering and spilling onto the dark wooden floor.
"Anwyn?"
His voice was full of concern as he reached for her hands, but Anwyn didn't seem to notice the gesture. Her hands lay lifeless in Trálír's grasp, her gaze seemed to go into the distance. It seemed to him that Anwyn was no longer present, no longer with him or in this house.
"Anwyn, my love, what's wrong?" Trálír let go of her hands and gently grasped her face. "Please, look at me, Anwyn." His words sounded almost pleading. "Don't shut me out."
When Anwyn heard Trálír's words, she turned her face towards him and her gaze slowly cleared as she found her way back to reality.
Her warm brown eyes were filled with deep sadness. Trálír watched with a heavy heart as they filled with tears.
"Will you tell me what is troubling your heart so much?" the elf asked softly, his thumb gently stroking Anwyn's pale skin, catching the tear that slid down her cheek.
She shook her head, closed her eyes and a sob broke out. Trálír had no idea what the reason for Anwyn's obvious grief was, but it pained him to see how much she was suffering.
He bent down and gently cradled her in his arms, letting her cry against his chest while he pressed his lips tenderly on her hair. Trálír didn't know how much time had passed, but he noticed how Anwyn gradually relaxed in his embrace. He slowly lowered himself onto the bed, Anwyn in his arms. He shifted his body slightly so that Anwyn lay next to him in his arms, her head resting on his chest, one arm wrapped around his waist.
Listening to her steady breathing, Trálír felt the inner battle she was fighting with herself.
But despite his obvious concern for Anwyn, Trálír decided against penetrating her mind and seeking the reason for the pain she was suffering. He swore to himself that he would never enter Anwyn's consciousness without her consent, instead he would give her all the time she needed to confide in him. Even if it took weeks, months or even years.
Sera...
Anwyn felt the tears coming again and she closed her eyes, hugging herself tighter to Trálír's chest as if his presence could protect her from all the knowledge and questions she had. She hid from his questioning gaze in the folds of his tunic.
Anwyn knew that Sera had not simply lost the fruit in her womb, for she knew of her desire to have this abortion. It was she, Anwyn, who had placed the bag of tansy in her hands so that Sera could put the idea into practice. Her knowledge was the reason why the young maid had not given birth to the child.
Had the loss of this unwanted child been so big that Sera had decided against a future? Had the knowledge that her decision had led to the abortion become so unbearable that she had seen no other way for herself than to choose suicide?
And was it her fault as a healer that Sera was no longer alive?
Anwyn's hands cramped into the fabric of Trálír's shirt, who then carefully tightened his grip around her shoulders and waist.
He listened to the distant crashing of the waves on the shore as he held Anwyn in his hands. He felt her lift her head from his chest and felt her gaze on him.
"I knew her... Sera..." Anwyn whispered in a broken voice and looked at Trálír, his eyes fixed on her sympathetically. Anwyn swallowed.
"Do you remember the young girl who came to see me?" she asked and the high elf nodded in confirmation. "That was Sera."
"Did you know she was pregnant, Anwyn?"
"No," she replied and hid her face from Trálír by pressing it against his chest again.
Here she was, safe in the embrace of her beloved, speaking the untruth. Anwyn's throat tightened and she felt her body stiffen, trying to make itself smaller in the desire to hide from this fact, from her obvious lie.
Everything in her wanted to tell Trálír the truth, but there was so much more than just the departure of the unborn child. The rapes, the incipient abuse, the maltreatment. Did Trálír suspect any of this? Did the servants at the castle know anything about what had happened to Sera? And hadn't the young maid told them that it was no secret that this stranger had dark desires? Who knew all about it? The servants, the soldiers ... possibly the ruler?
Anwyn unconsciously bit her lower lip as she wondered if and how much she could trust Trálír.
Sera had not told her who had done all this harm to her. Anwyn would have nothing but the words the young girl had confided in her. No name, no description, nothing that would have indicated who the perpetrator was.
And at the same time, Anwyn didn't want to destroy Sera's trust in her, even if she was no longer alive. How much strength it must have taken her to ask for help, to confide in her, to open up and show her what had happened to her. How could Anwyn break that trust? Even now, when Sera had decided against life.
And even if she confessed everything to Trálír, there was nothing that would undo Sera's decision. She had chosen death, finally finding comfort in Myrkur's cold embrace.
And Anwyn hoped for Sera's sake that she had now found the peace in death that she had so longingly sought.
As Anwyn lay in Trálír's arms, a memory from her time with Sera crept up and she straightened suddenly. Trálír gently clasped Sera's wrists as she slowly sat up, her slender body half bent over his, her full curly hair falling into her face. With his right hand, the elf gently stroked the wild curls behind her ears as Anwyn asked him softly, "Would you accompany me to Wheeping Cliff?"
"Now?" Trálír replied in surprise. "It's already past midday and it will be a while before we reach the cliff."
"Yes, I know. But there's something I have to do. For Sera."
"I understand." Trálír propped himself up on his elbows, closing the distance to Anwyn, who leaned forward in response, seeking comfort in his kiss. As the elf slowly straightened up, she released the kiss and looked at him gratefully.
"We will have to walk," Trálír said and straightened up. "Arod won't be able to take the steep path to the cliff. The risk of him breaking his ankles on the uneven path is too high. And that goes for you too, Anwyn. The route to Wheeping Cliff is dangerous and difficult."
"We'll be careful, Trálír," Anwyn promised, getting up as well and reaching for something small that was lying on the lowest shelf above her bed. Trálír had not had a chance to see what she had reached for, as the object had been too small to recognise and had disappeared so quickly into Anwyn's apron that he could not see it.
"My short sword, bow and arrows are in the stable," Trálír explained as he and she left the house together. "Let me take them with me so that we can enter the forest without worrying."
Anwyn nodded and stopped in front of the stall while Trálír went inside and grabbed his weapons. Her eyes fell on the book at her feet, which she must have dropped when Trálír had taken her in his arms. Anwyn bent down, took the book in her hands and gently knocked the soil off the cover. She placed it on the stool that still stood in the shadow of the building.
Trálír stepped out of the old animal dwelling, carefully closed the door and held out his hand in Anwyn's direction. With a sad smile, she took it and walked eastwards with the elf at her side under numerous dark, rain-covered clouds.
When she had made the suggestion to Sera to drop the gold coin into the sea at Wheeping Cliff, she had not realised how strenuous and dangerous the path would be.
There was a second, less dangerous path, trodden through the forest, which was considered safe apart from the beasts that wandered through the dense forest, but which took almost half a day to climb.
The route she and Trálír now took was narrow, rocky, uneven, entangled with roots, cramped by dense bushes. The ascent was strenuous, steep and the narrow path led directly along the cliffs. If you lost your balance just once, there was a great danger of falling down into the depths.
Trálír and she had to interrupt their march several times to climb over larger stones or make their way through the dense bushes with their swords.
As Anwyn silently followed Trálír, who went first, she thought of all the stories surrounding the Wheeping Cliff. The oldest and probably the most told story was the one that had been carried from one race in Faerun to another since the beginning of time. Once there was a young elfess from the High House, in love with a young wood elf. Her family urged an engagement to an older elf, wealthy and pure of heart, but the elfess's feelings for the forest dweller were so deep that she chose him, unaware that his brother also had feelings for her. At a secret party, attended only by a few close friends, they were celebrating their engagement, their promise to each other and to their future when, in an unguarded moment, the wood elf's brother confided in her. The elf's heart grew heavy, for she liked him, but her feelings were for his brother and not for him. The rejection affected him deeply and he left the party without a word and disappeared into the night. Weeks later, the wood elf received a message from his beloved one morning, in which she wrote to him that she had finally decided in favour of the man her parents had chosen for her. It would break her heart, but she would not be able to disappoint her family. And yet she asked him to meet her for one last moment together at High Cliff as night fell.
Heartbroken, the wood elf set off, anxious to see his beloved one last time, unaware that the words on the piece of paper were not hers. As he made the arduous journey to the High Cliff, the elfess entered his home to surprise him.
She was surprised not to find him at home and before she left, she glanced at the letter lying on his bed. Curious, she reached for it, read it and her eyes widened in horror as she realised that someone had written the letter on her behalf. Everything in her knew that this was a trap, that these words would lead to something that would plunge her lover into deep misery. Panicked, she too made her way to the High Cliff in a wild rush, her heart pounding with fear, her lungs burning with agonising pain.
When she reached the cliff, she saw her lover standing on the edge of it, his eyes filled with horror, his hands pressed to his throat, desperately trying to stop the blood flowing from the wound.
The scream that burst from the elf's throat echoed through the dawning night. He turned his gaze to her, a smile on his bloodied lips as the life drained from his eyes, his body slumped and plunged off the cliff into the sea.
His brother stood at the edge, a dagger in his hand, wet with his brother's blood. He took a step towards the elfess and spoke to her, but his words made no sense to her. The pain of losing her beloved was so unbearable that the world blurred before her eyes. She felt her body rising, her feet carrying her, her hands pushing against his chest. The brother lost his balance, let out a shrill cry and tumbled down into the darkness.
And so the elfess stood there, at the edge of the cliff, for centuries. Her pain was so deep that she died of a broken heart and from her remains grew a weeping willow that has watched over this place ever since. At night, when the wind blew through the branches, you could hear the wailing of her broken heart.
Not many dared to make the dangerous ascent to this place and others feared the Wheeping Cliff, this place full of suffering and torment. But Anwyn was aware of the elf's protection for the souls who had suffered as relentlessly as she had.
It would be right to place the gold coin, this mark of shame, this evidence of Sera's endured torment, in the elfess's hands.
That would be the last thing Anwyn could do for Sera.
And she hoped that the pain Sera had endured was now a thing of the past.
I am sorry for the little break I had but so many things happening at this time, it's hard to write or to go even online. And this heat is not helping at all.
Anyway, here is my next chapter and I hope you'll enjoy it. ♥
The sun was already well past its midday zenith. Anwyn sat on a stool in the shade of the old stable, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, staring out to sea, lost in thought. Her eyes kept glancing westwards towards the Blackwater Castle, but nothing and no one had been seen for hours.
Like every morning, she had woken up full of vigour and although each of her days was accompanied by hard physical work, she had looked forward to midday with joy, knowing that Trálír had also announced his arrival for today. Even before the sun had risen, Anwyn had taken a quick dip in the spring riverbed, dressed, prepared breakfast, tended to the animals, said goodbye to her father and got on with the housework.
But to her astonishment, neither Conall nor Ulthred had driven up to the farm and Trálír's appearance was still a long time coming. Such moments happened only rarely, but when neither the half-elves nor Trálír appeared, worry began to creep into Anwyn's mind. She had no way of knowing what had happened and so her only option was to wait. And this was a real test of patience for Anwyn, as the most absurd thoughts began to form in her head. Be it a serious illness or an attack on the castle, an invasion by a foreign enemy who wanted to claim the Blackwater Lands for themselves. Of course Anwyn knew that the castle was impregnable, but not knowing how Trálír was and why he didn't come to her made her constantly fear the worst.
As neither he nor the half-elves had turned up, she had already finished her daily chore of gutting fish. She had picked up a book on the various diseases of the eye, but hadn't got very far because of her lack of concentration. The book was still in her lap as she gazed unhappily towards the west. Only a moment later, Anwyn heard the familiar whinny of Arod and jumped up with delight as the book fell from her lap to the ground. Anwyn strode towards the courtyard entrance as Trálír appeared on Arod's back in her field of vision. A smile slipped across her lips as she caught sight of him, but then she noticed the shadow on his face. Uncertain, she stopped a few steps away from him and watched in silence as he dismounted from the stallion, opened the stable door and led Arod inside. As Trálír stepped out of the stall and closed the door behind him, he finally looked at Anwyn and gave her a smile. She realised that his smile did not reach his eyes and she frowned questioningly.
But before she could utter a single word, Trálír wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close.
His head rested between her neck and her collarbone. Anwyn felt his warm breath through the fabric of her dress and she was aware of the heaviness of his sigh as it slipped over his lips. Her right hand also slid around his hip and tenderly caressed the area of his lower back that lay just above his waistband. She ran her left hand gently through his loose hair.
So they stood together, comforted and safe in each other's embrace, no words needed to show how they felt, for their hearts beat in time.
Anwyn leaned back a little and placed her hands gently on Trálír's face, urging him to look at her. He complied and when their eyes met, Anwyn was pained by the deep sadness she could see in his storm-tossed blue eyes.
"Do you want to tell me what is troubling your heart so much?" she asked softly, her thumb gliding gently over his cheek.
"I don't want to burden you with my worries," Trálír replied slowly, a sad smile on his lips.
"Come," Anwyn urged him and reached for his hand. "Let's go into the house and talk there."
She nodded to him and walked into the house hand in hand with Trálír. As they entered, she let go of his hand and took a pot of already brewed tea hanging from a thin metal rod over the makeshift fireplace and poured him and herself a cup of tea. When Anwyn turned to him, she saw that he was sitting on the edge of their campsite, his shoulders slumped.
She approached Trálír, handed him the cup of tea and sat down on her bed with her legs crossed. She waited in silence until Trálír spoke to her, his gaze fixed ahead.
"Since we elves live for centuries, we are often confronted with the deaths of humans and half-elves," he began in a low voice. "Mostly it's illness or old age, sometimes the inhabitants fall victim to robbery, murder or assault. However, the deaths at Blackwater Castle can be counted on one hand. And it is even rarer that someone chooses suicide."
Anwyn's eyes clouded over at Trálír's words, but she didn't interrupt him and gave him time to continue when he was ready.
"A kitchen maid took her own life tonight. She was found hanged in her chamber."
Anwyn placed her free hand on his, trying to give him the comfort he needed with this small gesture.
"And the worst part is that I don't even know her," he said, guilt in his voice. "I'm no better than my father, Anwyn. I take everyone around me for granted too, don't care who looks after our wellbeing. I know few of the humans or half-elves in our service."
He shook his head angrily, his shoulders tensing at the reproach he was giving himself.
"You're not like your father, Trálír," Anwyn said softly. "I know it pains you not to know everyone and not to give everyone the attention or the just existence you intend for the future, but the castle is large and you have your duties to fulfil. No ruler, no member of a ruling family looks after the interests of the servants. This happens neither in the ranks of the elves nor in the high houses of men."
"I know," Trálír replied in frustration. "But it pains me that this girl, almost a child, found no other way than this."
"Do you know why?" Anwyn asked cautiously and Trálír replied: "Some say she was ill. She probably couldn't cope with the loss of her child and therefore chose suicide."
"She was pregnant?" Trálír turned to Anwyn and frowned when he heard the almost fearful tone in her voice. He nodded slowly.
"Did you perhaps hear her name?" Anwyn asked quietly, trying to control her violently beating heart, the dark premonition creeping through her innermost being. Despondently, she looked at Trálír, who turned to her and nodded in confirmation.
"I heard her name was Sera," he replied and watched in horror as Anwyn reacted to his words.
Her brown eyes widened in shock and her skin lost all its colour in the next moment, it was as if Trálír was watching Anwyn's life force literally leave her. He watched as her fingers loosened as if all her strength was leaving her and the cup fell to the floor, shattering and spilling onto the dark wooden floor.
"Anwyn?"
His voice was full of concern as he reached for her hands, but Anwyn didn't seem to notice the gesture. Her hands lay lifeless in Trálír's grasp, her gaze seemed to go into the distance. It seemed to him that Anwyn was no longer present, no longer with him or in this house.
"Anwyn, my love, what's wrong?" Trálír let go of her hands and gently grasped her face. "Please, look at me, Anwyn." His words sounded almost pleading. "Don't shut me out."
When Anwyn heard Trálír's words, she turned her face towards him and her gaze slowly cleared as she found her way back to reality.
Her warm brown eyes were filled with deep sadness. Trálír watched with a heavy heart as they filled with tears.
"Will you tell me what is troubling your heart so much?" the elf asked softly, his thumb gently stroking Anwyn's pale skin, catching the tear that slid down her cheek.
She shook her head, closed her eyes and a sob broke out. Trálír had no idea what the reason for Anwyn's obvious grief was, but it pained him to see how much she was suffering.
He bent down and gently cradled her in his arms, letting her cry against his chest while he pressed his lips tenderly on her hair. Trálír didn't know how much time had passed, but he noticed how Anwyn gradually relaxed in his embrace. He slowly lowered himself onto the bed, Anwyn in his arms. He shifted his body slightly so that Anwyn lay next to him in his arms, her head resting on his chest, one arm wrapped around his waist.
Listening to her steady breathing, Trálír felt the inner battle she was fighting with herself.
But despite his obvious concern for Anwyn, Trálír decided against penetrating her mind and seeking the reason for the pain she was suffering. He swore to himself that he would never enter Anwyn's consciousness without her consent, instead he would give her all the time she needed to confide in him. Even if it took weeks, months or even years.
Sera...
Anwyn felt the tears coming again and she closed her eyes, hugging herself tighter to Trálír's chest as if his presence could protect her from all the knowledge and questions she had. She hid from his questioning gaze in the folds of his tunic.
Anwyn knew that Sera had not simply lost the fruit in her womb, for she knew of her desire to have this abortion. It was she, Anwyn, who had placed the bag of tansy in her hands so that Sera could put the idea into practice. Her knowledge was the reason why the young maid had not given birth to the child.
Had the loss of this unwanted child been so big that Sera had decided against a future? Had the knowledge that her decision had led to the abortion become so unbearable that she had seen no other way for herself than to choose suicide?
And was it her fault as a healer that Sera was no longer alive?
Anwyn's hands cramped into the fabric of Trálír's shirt, who then carefully tightened his grip around her shoulders and waist.
He listened to the distant crashing of the waves on the shore as he held Anwyn in his hands. He felt her lift her head from his chest and felt her gaze on him.
"I knew her... Sera..." Anwyn whispered in a broken voice and looked at Trálír, his eyes fixed on her sympathetically. Anwyn swallowed.
"Do you remember the young girl who came to see me?" she asked and the high elf nodded in confirmation. "That was Sera."
"Did you know she was pregnant, Anwyn?"
"No," she replied and hid her face from Trálír by pressing it against his chest again.
Here she was, safe in the embrace of her beloved, speaking the untruth. Anwyn's throat tightened and she felt her body stiffen, trying to make itself smaller in the desire to hide from this fact, from her obvious lie.
Everything in her wanted to tell Trálír the truth, but there was so much more than just the departure of the unborn child. The rapes, the incipient abuse, the maltreatment. Did Trálír suspect any of this? Did the servants at the castle know anything about what had happened to Sera? And hadn't the young maid told them that it was no secret that this stranger had dark desires? Who knew all about it? The servants, the soldiers ... possibly the ruler?
Anwyn unconsciously bit her lower lip as she wondered if and how much she could trust Trálír.
Sera had not told her who had done all this harm to her. Anwyn would have nothing but the words the young girl had confided in her. No name, no description, nothing that would have indicated who the perpetrator was.
And at the same time, Anwyn didn't want to destroy Sera's trust in her, even if she was no longer alive. How much strength it must have taken her to ask for help, to confide in her, to open up and show her what had happened to her. How could Anwyn break that trust? Even now, when Sera had decided against life.
And even if she confessed everything to Trálír, there was nothing that would undo Sera's decision. She had chosen death, finally finding comfort in Myrkur's cold embrace.
And Anwyn hoped for Sera's sake that she had now found the peace in death that she had so longingly sought.
As Anwyn lay in Trálír's arms, a memory from her time with Sera crept up and she straightened suddenly. Trálír gently clasped Sera's wrists as she slowly sat up, her slender body half bent over his, her full curly hair falling into her face. With his right hand, the elf gently stroked the wild curls behind her ears as Anwyn asked him softly, "Would you accompany me to Wheeping Cliff?"
"Now?" Trálír replied in surprise. "It's already past midday and it will be a while before we reach the cliff."
"Yes, I know. But there's something I have to do. For Sera."
"I understand." Trálír propped himself up on his elbows, closing the distance to Anwyn, who leaned forward in response, seeking comfort in his kiss. As the elf slowly straightened up, she released the kiss and looked at him gratefully.
"We will have to walk," Trálír said and straightened up. "Arod won't be able to take the steep path to the cliff. The risk of him breaking his ankles on the uneven path is too high. And that goes for you too, Anwyn. The route to Wheeping Cliff is dangerous and difficult."
"We'll be careful, Trálír," Anwyn promised, getting up as well and reaching for something small that was lying on the lowest shelf above her bed. Trálír had not had a chance to see what she had reached for, as the object had been too small to recognise and had disappeared so quickly into Anwyn's apron that he could not see it.
"My short sword, bow and arrows are in the stable," Trálír explained as he and she left the house together. "Let me take them with me so that we can enter the forest without worrying."
Anwyn nodded and stopped in front of the stall while Trálír went inside and grabbed his weapons. Her eyes fell on the book at her feet, which she must have dropped when Trálír had taken her in his arms. Anwyn bent down, took the book in her hands and gently knocked the soil off the cover. She placed it on the stool that still stood in the shadow of the building.
Trálír stepped out of the old animal dwelling, carefully closed the door and held out his hand in Anwyn's direction. With a sad smile, she took it and walked eastwards with the elf at her side under numerous dark, rain-covered clouds.
When she had made the suggestion to Sera to drop the gold coin into the sea at Wheeping Cliff, she had not realised how strenuous and dangerous the path would be.
There was a second, less dangerous path, trodden through the forest, which was considered safe apart from the beasts that wandered through the dense forest, but which took almost half a day to climb.
The route she and Trálír now took was narrow, rocky, uneven, entangled with roots, cramped by dense bushes. The ascent was strenuous, steep and the narrow path led directly along the cliffs. If you lost your balance just once, there was a great danger of falling down into the depths.
Trálír and she had to interrupt their march several times to climb over larger stones or make their way through the dense bushes with their swords.
As Anwyn silently followed Trálír, who went first, she thought of all the stories surrounding the Wheeping Cliff. The oldest and probably the most told story was the one that had been carried from one race in Faerun to another since the beginning of time. Once there was a young elfess from the High House, in love with a young wood elf. Her family urged an engagement to an older elf, wealthy and pure of heart, but the elfess's feelings for the forest dweller were so deep that she chose him, unaware that his brother also had feelings for her. At a secret party, attended only by a few close friends, they were celebrating their engagement, their promise to each other and to their future when, in an unguarded moment, the wood elf's brother confided in her. The elf's heart grew heavy, for she liked him, but her feelings were for his brother and not for him. The rejection affected him deeply and he left the party without a word and disappeared into the night. Weeks later, the wood elf received a message from his beloved one morning, in which she wrote to him that she had finally decided in favour of the man her parents had chosen for her. It would break her heart, but she would not be able to disappoint her family. And yet she asked him to meet her for one last moment together at High Cliff as night fell.
Heartbroken, the wood elf set off, anxious to see his beloved one last time, unaware that the words on the piece of paper were not hers. As he made the arduous journey to the High Cliff, the elfess entered his home to surprise him.
She was surprised not to find him at home and before she left, she glanced at the letter lying on his bed. Curious, she reached for it, read it and her eyes widened in horror as she realised that someone had written the letter on her behalf. Everything in her knew that this was a trap, that these words would lead to something that would plunge her lover into deep misery. Panicked, she too made her way to the High Cliff in a wild rush, her heart pounding with fear, her lungs burning with agonising pain.
When she reached the cliff, she saw her lover standing on the edge of it, his eyes filled with horror, his hands pressed to his throat, desperately trying to stop the blood flowing from the wound.
The scream that burst from the elf's throat echoed through the dawning night. He turned his gaze to her, a smile on his bloodied lips as the life drained from his eyes, his body slumped and plunged off the cliff into the sea.
His brother stood at the edge, a dagger in his hand, wet with his brother's blood. He took a step towards the elfess and spoke to her, but his words made no sense to her. The pain of losing her beloved was so unbearable that the world blurred before her eyes. She felt her body rising, her feet carrying her, her hands pushing against his chest. The brother lost his balance, let out a shrill cry and tumbled down into the darkness.
And so the elfess stood there, at the edge of the cliff, for centuries. Her pain was so deep that she died of a broken heart and from her remains grew a weeping willow that has watched over this place ever since. At night, when the wind blew through the branches, you could hear the wailing of her broken heart.
Not many dared to make the dangerous ascent to this place and others feared the Wheeping Cliff, this place full of suffering and torment. But Anwyn was aware of the elf's protection for the souls who had suffered as relentlessly as she had.
It would be right to place the gold coin, this mark of shame, this evidence of Sera's endured torment, in the elfess's hands.
That would be the last thing Anwyn could do for Sera.
And she hoped that the pain Sera had endured was now a thing of the past.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-07-21 12:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-05 12:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-07-21 02:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-05 12:27 pm (UTC)But even when I feel bad, I have always thoughts in my mind, thinking about how the story evolves and that helps me to distract from my pain and sadness.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-07-21 05:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-05 12:58 pm (UTC)Das könnte schon fast eine eigene Kurzgeschichte werden! ♥️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-08 05:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-07-22 06:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-07 11:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-07-22 06:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-08-07 11:07 am (UTC)