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Sharing: The Mistress of the Shadowland; The next Chapter
Hello, my lovely readers! Thank you for still reading my story, I thought I should tell you that because you probably have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you!
And now, here is the newest chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it.
♥
The music of the twelve-piece band resounded throughout the ballroom, which was filled with the laughter and conversation of the elven guests present. Trálír had retreated to a corner after completing almost half a dozen dances, which he had done politely for the occasion under the watchful gaze of his father. As soon as darkness fell over the city-state, he, his father and the other guests were invited to a sumptuous dinner. The table at which they were seated stretched almost from one end of the hall to the other, there was enough room for the mayor's numerous guests and his servants, who busily read every wish from the eyes of those present. As his father was the guest of honor at today's festivities, both were seated right next to the host and his family.
Trálír, the Elder, sat to the left of the mayor, whose wife took her place next to him.
Trálír's place was on the host's right while his daughter sat at his side. During the course of the dinner, she had given him the odd beaming smile, which he had politely returned.
Trálír was impressed by the large dining hall, which was made entirely of white marble from floor to ceiling. Numerous candelabras cast their warm light into the hall, and the history of Moonhaven was painted on the walls and ceilings. Trálír couldn't help but admire the artist's talent. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling at ten-foot intervals, the table was laid with numerous dishes, vases full of ice flowers and roses, the white and soft pink of the blossoms contrasting with the dark green ivy that also stood in the vases, adorning the long table made of the finest wood. There was so much food on the table that Trálír felt it was almost a waste, yet he was well aware that their host wanted to impress them and also show his status as a busy trading partner with other cities. Trálír, the well-behaved heir of the ruler of the Blackwater lands, listened intently to the conversations and answered the questions of the guests present with courtesy and interest. He noticed his father watching him, a satisfied smile on his lips. When the guests had dined, the mayor called them into the ballroom.
As Trálír, the Elder, was the guest of honor tonight, he had the honor of opening the dance with Hammonds wife. Trálír stood at the edge of the dance floor, expecting Hammond Stonemarrow to ask his daughter to dance, but this evening's host nodded gracefully to Trálír and pointed with his hand to the young elfess standing next to him.
There was a mixture of excitement and nervousness in her green eyes.
“Would you give me this dance?” she asked with a warm smile and looked at him with wide, emerald green eyes. Trálír took a deep breath and gave her a smile too, even though he didn't really feel like it. He wished he could have avoided this, but he knew what was expected of him as heir to Blackwater Bay.
Teárlach would have enjoyed this moment, would have taken the young elf's hand with a charming smile and led her to the dance floor under the gaze of those present if he had been his father's heir. Trálír would have been content to be ignored by society as the second-born.
But that's life, isn't it? thought the firstborn and bowed politely to the mayor's daughter. With a beaming smile, she confidently took the hand he offered her and let him lead her to the dance floor.
As they took the first tentative steps of the dance on the dance floor, Trálír remembered that the mayor and his family had once visited their castle for a few days. While he was nearing the end of his 40th year, his daughter had still been a little girl. Neither he nor his brother Teárlach had attached any importance to her. Now Ysilia, as her name was, had grown into a young elfess. She was tall and slender, her long hair reaching down to her buttocks as white as snow, while her green eyes, framed by a ring of thick black lashes, reminded him of an emerald. And in the next breath Trálír asked himself, to his own amazement, why he, his brother and his father did not have the same green eyes. Every elf in Faerún had green eyes, why was this not the case in his family? But before he could dwell on this thought, the warm voice of Ysilia snapped him out of his thoughts.
“For coming from such harsh lands as Blackwater Bay, you have an excellent command of the bard's dance.”
Trálír laughed briefly and danced with her through the rest of the song until the last notes faded away, then he bowed to the young elfess.
“You'll excuse me?”
Before she could reply, Trálír turned away from her, stepped off the dance floor and glanced around the hall. There, just a dozen steps to his right, was an exit onto the ballroom terrace. As winter was near, the doors were closed, but Trálír longed for some fresh air - and a moment of solitude. He walked through the guests until he reached the double doors. A servant gave him a friendly nod and opened it without Trálír having to say a word to him. Quickly he grabbed a glass of red wine which stood on a circular glass table among a dozen others. He nodded gratefully to the servant and stepped out into the cold night. He closed his eyes with pleasure, breathing in and out the cool air. A few torches lit up the terrace, which was adorned with a richly decorated railing. He approached it, leaned forward a little and supported himself with his forearms, holding the glass of red wine in his right hand.
Below the terrace, he could make out the large garden, which was in darkness except for a few illuminated lanterns.
In the distance, he could hear the sound of the waves and a feeling of homesickness crept into Trálír's thoughts. Not a longing for the Blackwater country, the castle or the elves who lived there. No, his longing was for Anwyn.
He imagined riding into the courtyard on Arod and finding her either near her animals or doing her daily chores. Since winter was approaching and he knew Anwyn, he could also imagine her going into the forest again in search of mushrooms, nuts, herbs or anything else she wanted to preserve for the winter. Since he knew about the dangers in the forest, he planned to teach Anwyn next spring how she could protect herself from these dangers with a dagger or two. Perhaps he could also teach her how to use a short sword or a bow and arrow.
But no matter where he would find his beloved, in the next breath he would get off his horse, run towards her and pull her into his arms without a word. He longed to taste her warm, soft lips, to hear her voice, her body pressed against his. He wanted to feel her hands in his, to lay his cheek against her wild, curly hair, to look into her eyes that seemed as deep and infinite as the sea.
A shrill laughter from the ballroom made Trálír flinch and he heaved a tired sigh. Even when he was among his own, his people, he felt so alien between them. Anwyn, a human woman, was so much closer to him than anyone else who crossed his path - whether it was here in Moonhaven or in the Blackwater Lands.
Trálír closed his eyes again and imagined her here, in Moonhaven, standing next to him.
Pride would fill him, his heart full of the deepest love for her, while his hands would clasp hers and a gentle smile would form on his lips. Anwyn did not have the elegant, almost ethereal beauty of a Ysilia whose appearance was almost like the goddess Sunes, her hair was wild and untamed, her skin was full of freckles, she was smaller than most elven women and when he had seen Anwyn again after the last winter, she was much too thin due to the hunger and the long period of cold. Over the last few weeks she had put on some weight and her body was beginning to distribute it evenly. Trálír loved nothing more than to look at and touch the soft, gentle curves of his beloved. And Anwyn had the most radiant smile he had ever seen. There was so much joy, so much love and compassion in her fawn eyes. Even the finest fabrics on her body would do her beauty an injustice. She shone from them brighter than any jewels she could wear. And then, in the next breath, he realized how uncomfortable Anwyn would feel among all these elves. How alienated she would be by their obvious wealth and innate arrogance.
He was aware that Anwyn would not feel comfortable here or in the Blackwater Castle among all his own, even if Tralir could find a way to make her officially his wife.
Anwyn's heart went out to nature, the forest, the animals, the ability to heal and soothe pain.
“Are you lost in your own thoughts?” The mouth that spoke these words was so close that the warmth of the breath tickled his skin and unconsciously Trálír took a step back. The light of the torches enveloped the elfess in a warm glow. Ysilia.
The step back that the ruler's son unconsciously took made Ysilia pause in irritation. She looked at him with a smile that was meant to hide the fact that his obvious, if unconscious, rejection of her made her heart beat faster with nervousness. Trálír had been polite and courteous all evening and she had felt that his interest in the words they had exchanged was genuine. Had she been so wrong? With a slight frown, Ysilia looked at him, but could see nothing in his gaze. Not knowing if her presence disturbed him, she slowly took a step back.
“Forgive me if I really took you out of your thoughts,” she began in a low voice and bowed with a slight apology. “I thought you wanted to get away from all the guests and be alone for a while.” At her words, Trálír raised a dark eyebrow questioningly.
“Well, I just realized that my words don't explain why I followed you then, do they?” The elfess shook her head with a smile. “I guess the wine went a bit to my head,” she admitted in an embarrassed voice, which elicited a slight smile from Trálír.
“Well, then some fresh air certainly won't do you any harm,” he replied and nodded to let her know that he didn't mind her presence. He leaned against the parapet again and supported himself with his forearms, his gaze fixed on the dark ocean. Ysilia did the same, leaning against the railing and closing her eyes. She breathed in and out deeply a few times and tried to ignore the slight dizziness in her head. She really should have had a glass or two less, she scolded herself silently and then stared into the darkness. She didn't know how much time had passed, but the noises from the ballroom were diminishing and she suspected that it wouldn't be long before the last guests left the castle.
“Did you enjoy your time in Moonhaven?” Ysilia asked Trálír, who answered her question with a nod.
"Your city is impressive and I'm sure it's breathtaking in spring with all the trees and blossoming flowers. I can hardly imagine the variety of colors. Even if the sea on my doorstep is the same as yours, it certainly feels different,” Trálír replied.
“Then why don't you come and visit us in spring?” suggested Ysilia, beaming at her idea, not noticing how the look in the elf's blue-green eyes darkened.
“Perhaps there will be an opportunity in the future,” Trálír replied in a slurred voice and cleared his throat. He didn't want to be rude to the young elf, even though she seemed so eager to see him again. With another clearing of his throat, Tralir straightened up, downed his wine and looked at Ysilia, who looked at him kindly with her large green eyes.
“I wish you a good night, Ysilia,” he said and bowed with a smile. Trálír saw the joy leave her face and give way to disappointment, but he turned away without another word and walked towards the double doors when her unsettled voice made him pause.
“Do you want ... ehm ... the night … with … ” She broke off timidly and Trálír turned in her direction with a gentle smile. There was mildness in his gaze.
“Do you want to spend the night with me?” Ysilia burst out and her cheeks turned flaming red. Trálír saw her swallow nervously, hoping for an answer from him, an answer that would respond to her request. With just two steps the elf stood in front of the young woman and gently took her hands.
“Ysilia, you are a beautiful woman and I appreciate your invitation,” Trálír replied in a gentle voice. “Nevertheless, I must decline.”
Ysilia's large, emerald green eyes shimmered teary in the light of the torch.
“Why?” she whispered, a hint of dejection in her voice.
“My heart already belongs to someone else, Ysilia,” Trálír replied softly.
"Then you are already engaged? Is a wedding planned in your lands?" She looked up at him and Trálír unconsciously pressed his lips together. As she stood before him, it reminded him that the elfess had not long outgrown puberty, a girl still with dreams and desires, unaware that as the mayor's daughter she was looking forward to a political marriage. Or perhaps she already suspected it and wanted to spend the night with him? Trálír felt pity for her.
“I made her a promise,” he replied and Ysilia slumped her shoulders.
“She is a very lucky woman to have you by her side.” She looked up at him, a sad smile on her lips.
“I'm sure you'll find your Thiramin too.” Trálír squeezed her hands, bowed slightly and turned away. Ysilia watched in silence as the heir of the Blackwater Lands walked through the door and disappeared from her field of vision.
Depressed, she stood still in the cold and stared dejectedly out into the darkness.
And now, here is the newest chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it.
♥
The music of the twelve-piece band resounded throughout the ballroom, which was filled with the laughter and conversation of the elven guests present. Trálír had retreated to a corner after completing almost half a dozen dances, which he had done politely for the occasion under the watchful gaze of his father. As soon as darkness fell over the city-state, he, his father and the other guests were invited to a sumptuous dinner. The table at which they were seated stretched almost from one end of the hall to the other, there was enough room for the mayor's numerous guests and his servants, who busily read every wish from the eyes of those present. As his father was the guest of honor at today's festivities, both were seated right next to the host and his family.
Trálír, the Elder, sat to the left of the mayor, whose wife took her place next to him.
Trálír's place was on the host's right while his daughter sat at his side. During the course of the dinner, she had given him the odd beaming smile, which he had politely returned.
Trálír was impressed by the large dining hall, which was made entirely of white marble from floor to ceiling. Numerous candelabras cast their warm light into the hall, and the history of Moonhaven was painted on the walls and ceilings. Trálír couldn't help but admire the artist's talent. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling at ten-foot intervals, the table was laid with numerous dishes, vases full of ice flowers and roses, the white and soft pink of the blossoms contrasting with the dark green ivy that also stood in the vases, adorning the long table made of the finest wood. There was so much food on the table that Trálír felt it was almost a waste, yet he was well aware that their host wanted to impress them and also show his status as a busy trading partner with other cities. Trálír, the well-behaved heir of the ruler of the Blackwater lands, listened intently to the conversations and answered the questions of the guests present with courtesy and interest. He noticed his father watching him, a satisfied smile on his lips. When the guests had dined, the mayor called them into the ballroom.
As Trálír, the Elder, was the guest of honor tonight, he had the honor of opening the dance with Hammonds wife. Trálír stood at the edge of the dance floor, expecting Hammond Stonemarrow to ask his daughter to dance, but this evening's host nodded gracefully to Trálír and pointed with his hand to the young elfess standing next to him.
There was a mixture of excitement and nervousness in her green eyes.
“Would you give me this dance?” she asked with a warm smile and looked at him with wide, emerald green eyes. Trálír took a deep breath and gave her a smile too, even though he didn't really feel like it. He wished he could have avoided this, but he knew what was expected of him as heir to Blackwater Bay.
Teárlach would have enjoyed this moment, would have taken the young elf's hand with a charming smile and led her to the dance floor under the gaze of those present if he had been his father's heir. Trálír would have been content to be ignored by society as the second-born.
But that's life, isn't it? thought the firstborn and bowed politely to the mayor's daughter. With a beaming smile, she confidently took the hand he offered her and let him lead her to the dance floor.
As they took the first tentative steps of the dance on the dance floor, Trálír remembered that the mayor and his family had once visited their castle for a few days. While he was nearing the end of his 40th year, his daughter had still been a little girl. Neither he nor his brother Teárlach had attached any importance to her. Now Ysilia, as her name was, had grown into a young elfess. She was tall and slender, her long hair reaching down to her buttocks as white as snow, while her green eyes, framed by a ring of thick black lashes, reminded him of an emerald. And in the next breath Trálír asked himself, to his own amazement, why he, his brother and his father did not have the same green eyes. Every elf in Faerún had green eyes, why was this not the case in his family? But before he could dwell on this thought, the warm voice of Ysilia snapped him out of his thoughts.
“For coming from such harsh lands as Blackwater Bay, you have an excellent command of the bard's dance.”
Trálír laughed briefly and danced with her through the rest of the song until the last notes faded away, then he bowed to the young elfess.
“You'll excuse me?”
Before she could reply, Trálír turned away from her, stepped off the dance floor and glanced around the hall. There, just a dozen steps to his right, was an exit onto the ballroom terrace. As winter was near, the doors were closed, but Trálír longed for some fresh air - and a moment of solitude. He walked through the guests until he reached the double doors. A servant gave him a friendly nod and opened it without Trálír having to say a word to him. Quickly he grabbed a glass of red wine which stood on a circular glass table among a dozen others. He nodded gratefully to the servant and stepped out into the cold night. He closed his eyes with pleasure, breathing in and out the cool air. A few torches lit up the terrace, which was adorned with a richly decorated railing. He approached it, leaned forward a little and supported himself with his forearms, holding the glass of red wine in his right hand.
Below the terrace, he could make out the large garden, which was in darkness except for a few illuminated lanterns.
In the distance, he could hear the sound of the waves and a feeling of homesickness crept into Trálír's thoughts. Not a longing for the Blackwater country, the castle or the elves who lived there. No, his longing was for Anwyn.
He imagined riding into the courtyard on Arod and finding her either near her animals or doing her daily chores. Since winter was approaching and he knew Anwyn, he could also imagine her going into the forest again in search of mushrooms, nuts, herbs or anything else she wanted to preserve for the winter. Since he knew about the dangers in the forest, he planned to teach Anwyn next spring how she could protect herself from these dangers with a dagger or two. Perhaps he could also teach her how to use a short sword or a bow and arrow.
But no matter where he would find his beloved, in the next breath he would get off his horse, run towards her and pull her into his arms without a word. He longed to taste her warm, soft lips, to hear her voice, her body pressed against his. He wanted to feel her hands in his, to lay his cheek against her wild, curly hair, to look into her eyes that seemed as deep and infinite as the sea.
A shrill laughter from the ballroom made Trálír flinch and he heaved a tired sigh. Even when he was among his own, his people, he felt so alien between them. Anwyn, a human woman, was so much closer to him than anyone else who crossed his path - whether it was here in Moonhaven or in the Blackwater Lands.
Trálír closed his eyes again and imagined her here, in Moonhaven, standing next to him.
Pride would fill him, his heart full of the deepest love for her, while his hands would clasp hers and a gentle smile would form on his lips. Anwyn did not have the elegant, almost ethereal beauty of a Ysilia whose appearance was almost like the goddess Sunes, her hair was wild and untamed, her skin was full of freckles, she was smaller than most elven women and when he had seen Anwyn again after the last winter, she was much too thin due to the hunger and the long period of cold. Over the last few weeks she had put on some weight and her body was beginning to distribute it evenly. Trálír loved nothing more than to look at and touch the soft, gentle curves of his beloved. And Anwyn had the most radiant smile he had ever seen. There was so much joy, so much love and compassion in her fawn eyes. Even the finest fabrics on her body would do her beauty an injustice. She shone from them brighter than any jewels she could wear. And then, in the next breath, he realized how uncomfortable Anwyn would feel among all these elves. How alienated she would be by their obvious wealth and innate arrogance.
He was aware that Anwyn would not feel comfortable here or in the Blackwater Castle among all his own, even if Tralir could find a way to make her officially his wife.
Anwyn's heart went out to nature, the forest, the animals, the ability to heal and soothe pain.
“Are you lost in your own thoughts?” The mouth that spoke these words was so close that the warmth of the breath tickled his skin and unconsciously Trálír took a step back. The light of the torches enveloped the elfess in a warm glow. Ysilia.
The step back that the ruler's son unconsciously took made Ysilia pause in irritation. She looked at him with a smile that was meant to hide the fact that his obvious, if unconscious, rejection of her made her heart beat faster with nervousness. Trálír had been polite and courteous all evening and she had felt that his interest in the words they had exchanged was genuine. Had she been so wrong? With a slight frown, Ysilia looked at him, but could see nothing in his gaze. Not knowing if her presence disturbed him, she slowly took a step back.
“Forgive me if I really took you out of your thoughts,” she began in a low voice and bowed with a slight apology. “I thought you wanted to get away from all the guests and be alone for a while.” At her words, Trálír raised a dark eyebrow questioningly.
“Well, I just realized that my words don't explain why I followed you then, do they?” The elfess shook her head with a smile. “I guess the wine went a bit to my head,” she admitted in an embarrassed voice, which elicited a slight smile from Trálír.
“Well, then some fresh air certainly won't do you any harm,” he replied and nodded to let her know that he didn't mind her presence. He leaned against the parapet again and supported himself with his forearms, his gaze fixed on the dark ocean. Ysilia did the same, leaning against the railing and closing her eyes. She breathed in and out deeply a few times and tried to ignore the slight dizziness in her head. She really should have had a glass or two less, she scolded herself silently and then stared into the darkness. She didn't know how much time had passed, but the noises from the ballroom were diminishing and she suspected that it wouldn't be long before the last guests left the castle.
“Did you enjoy your time in Moonhaven?” Ysilia asked Trálír, who answered her question with a nod.
"Your city is impressive and I'm sure it's breathtaking in spring with all the trees and blossoming flowers. I can hardly imagine the variety of colors. Even if the sea on my doorstep is the same as yours, it certainly feels different,” Trálír replied.
“Then why don't you come and visit us in spring?” suggested Ysilia, beaming at her idea, not noticing how the look in the elf's blue-green eyes darkened.
“Perhaps there will be an opportunity in the future,” Trálír replied in a slurred voice and cleared his throat. He didn't want to be rude to the young elf, even though she seemed so eager to see him again. With another clearing of his throat, Tralir straightened up, downed his wine and looked at Ysilia, who looked at him kindly with her large green eyes.
“I wish you a good night, Ysilia,” he said and bowed with a smile. Trálír saw the joy leave her face and give way to disappointment, but he turned away without another word and walked towards the double doors when her unsettled voice made him pause.
“Do you want ... ehm ... the night … with … ” She broke off timidly and Trálír turned in her direction with a gentle smile. There was mildness in his gaze.
“Do you want to spend the night with me?” Ysilia burst out and her cheeks turned flaming red. Trálír saw her swallow nervously, hoping for an answer from him, an answer that would respond to her request. With just two steps the elf stood in front of the young woman and gently took her hands.
“Ysilia, you are a beautiful woman and I appreciate your invitation,” Trálír replied in a gentle voice. “Nevertheless, I must decline.”
Ysilia's large, emerald green eyes shimmered teary in the light of the torch.
“Why?” she whispered, a hint of dejection in her voice.
“My heart already belongs to someone else, Ysilia,” Trálír replied softly.
"Then you are already engaged? Is a wedding planned in your lands?" She looked up at him and Trálír unconsciously pressed his lips together. As she stood before him, it reminded him that the elfess had not long outgrown puberty, a girl still with dreams and desires, unaware that as the mayor's daughter she was looking forward to a political marriage. Or perhaps she already suspected it and wanted to spend the night with him? Trálír felt pity for her.
“I made her a promise,” he replied and Ysilia slumped her shoulders.
“She is a very lucky woman to have you by her side.” She looked up at him, a sad smile on her lips.
“I'm sure you'll find your Thiramin too.” Trálír squeezed her hands, bowed slightly and turned away. Ysilia watched in silence as the heir of the Blackwater Lands walked through the door and disappeared from her field of vision.
Depressed, she stood still in the cold and stared dejectedly out into the darkness.
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