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haebinI am sorry for the long break I had to take but I am now back and bringing the next chapter to you. Please enjoy! And like always, thank you for reading. It means a lot to me. ♥
Next to the door of the house stood the table newly carved by Trálír for the daily work of gutting fish. It was made of heavy and solid wood and had a secure footing on the ground as well as enough space to carry out the daily work, which Anwyn now began to concentrate on. Midsummer would soon be drawing to a close, fall was not far off, but today's temperature would be hard on the inhabitants of the land under the constantly burning sun if they did not have the opportunity to hide in the shade.
The Blackwater lands were wild, with strong winds and much rain falling over the months, as well as a long and icy winter, but when the height of summer approached it could only be endured indoors or hidden in the dense forests.
For a brief moment, Anwyn thought of her father and Conall at sea, hoping that they were using a mixture of earth and water to cover the parts of their bodies that were not covered by cloth so that their skin would not burn. She had read about various tinctures and oils to prevent and treat these burns, and there was talk of rare crushed minthral petals, redwind oil or ground hornworts. These ingredients were rare and very hard to come by, and when they were, they came at an unimaginably high price that seemed unaffordable to ordinary people.
At least she could go about her work with peace of mind, seeing that both men had large straw hats in their hands to protect their heads from the sun.
Anwyn had been standing in the sun for less than a few breaths when she noticed the sweat gathering on the back of her neck, running down her spine under her green cotton undergarment and dampening her armpits. She quickly reached for the hem of her outer dress, slipped it out and folded it up. She went into the house, placed the dress on her bed and stepped back out into the heat.
Wearing two dresses on such a day, even if they were made of a light fabric, was definitely too much material on her body.
Anwyn took two steps to the side to get out of the glaring sunlight into the shade and let out a long, exhausted sigh. Even though she knew how to treat a sunburn, she didn't want to expose herself to the risk of a burn.
While she was gutting the fish, she decided to take a cool, refreshing dip in the spring after the hard and long day's work. She would have to wait until they had all eaten their evening meal, when the weight of the day had lifted, the sounds of the surroundings had quietened and the sun no longer shone down on them all so mercilessly and it had lost it’s strength to hurt.
Anwyn would probably have to gut another catch of fish after the men returned, but if Eleri was by her side and they both worked together, it would be possible to retreat to the spring before nightfall. She knew that Eleri would accompany her if she requested her presence, but she longed for solitude and silence. For a space to herself where she could deal with what she felt and feared.
By the light of a torch to make sure that no other being would approach her, she wanted to turn her gaze towards the firmament and try to get clarity about herself and her feelings.
While Anwyn picked up the first fish and put the knife to the fish's gill hole to slit it open to the gill cover, she thought back to the last few weeks.
For her, too, it had felt as if Trálír was now living with her and the others on the farm. He appeared almost every midday at the same time, as punctual as the sun in the firmament, and Anwyn's heart began to beat even faster when she heard Arod's hoofbeat, a clear sign that the high elf was on his way to them.
Since the yard gate was usually closed to keep the children and the dog from leaving the yard, Trálír always dismounted Arod before joining them. Holding him by the reins, he opened the gate, stepped inside with the stallion and carefully closed it again behind him. Now in the summer, he always led his stallion into the paddock so that he could relax next to the old donkey and enjoy the hay and fresh vegetables. Then his path always led him to Anwyn, no matter where she was. Whether in the yard, in her house or working on the garden beds, the day only began to look good for him when he saw her.
And when Anwyn noticed him, she felt joy and love fill her heart. She got never tired of seeing the laughter in his green-blue eyes, listening to his warm voice when he whispered her name or feeling his lips on hers.
As he had promised before the summer began, Trálír had gone to work as soon as the wood had been delivered to finish the new furniture. As Conall spent the afternoons until early evening at sea with her father, the high elf took care of the furniture making alone. Anwyn knew of his talent for such work, for he had built a barn and a house together with Ulthred and Conall, but she did not know how skilled he was when it came to cutting and assembling the wood.
He had even carved floral patterns into the cupboards and shelves, Anwyn realized with surprise. When she asked him how he had come to do this, he had confided that he too had had no friends in his childhood and youth. He had been surrounded by soldiers and monks, but none of them he could call a friend.
With a slight shake of her head and a heavy heart, she realized that even in the fifth year of their relationship, she discovered new things about Trálír that she hadn't known or suspected.
But should she really be surprised, Anwyn had wondered thoughtfully. Trálír was, after all, quite a bit older than her and had lived more than a normal human life.
If she ever reached that age, the gods would be very kind to her.
In a low voice - as if it were still a secret - Trálír had confided to her that even before the monks' lessons began in the early morning, he had spent his time working for the horse farmer, the blacksmith, the castle's carpenter or the hunters and their dogs.
Over the years, he had acquired a wide variety of skills, such as carving wood or cutting it to shape to be able to use it. He was capable of forging a sword or other weapons, making his own hunting bow or gutting fish when he was allowed to accompany Fairre on one of his rare fishing trips, not to mention hunting.
Everything else Trálír had learned in the years leading up to his present age came from all the books he had read in the quiet evenings in his chamber.
As Anwyn worked on one fish after another, she thought about how the elves were viewed by the humans, for it was not only Trálír's race that had prejudices against theirs. While they assumed a lack of intelligence and regarded the poverty of the Blackwater dwellers with raised eyebrows, the humans feared the elves for their indifference and cruelty.
Over the last two centuries, Trálír the Elder had managed to destroy the barley existing trust between elves, half-elves and humans completely. She remembered the books she had read that recalled long-ago wars between the elves and the humans, long before Trálír the Elder came to power. And she had heard about the great wars since she was a little girl, when she was sent to the village marketplace by her father to buy bread. She was small and agile, always careful not to attract attention, and so she was often hiding in a corner, listening to people’s words and stories, completely unnoticed.
Trálír's father regarded the human inhabitants with loathing and disgust. He usually punished them with indifference, but the latest information that reached her and the inhabitants of the Old Oak Village from the west of the Blackwater Lands, close to the border, was frightening.
Anwyn had walked unsuspectingly to the village yesterday morning and wanted to visit the market with the intention of buying bread and some other foodstuffs that she was unable to make herself.
As it was still early in the morning, the sun was not yet burning down on her and she enjoyed the distant sound of the waves crashing on the beach and the songs of the birds that she heard from the high, dense treetops. Lost in thought, Anwyn walked into the village and her feet unconsciously carried her to the small marketplace.
There she stopped at a stall where a young woman was selling bread and pastries, and as her gaze was fixed on the loaves of bread in front of her and Anwyn thought about how many she needed for three days, she missed the disapproving expression on the vendor's face and the evil look in her steely blue eyes.
Meanwhile, Anwyn had added up the amount of loaves of bread she wanted to buy and was reaching for her coin purse when she suddenly heard Trálír's name. With a rapidly beating heart, she paused and stared at her hand inside the cloth bag.
"... and it seems he has a new man at his side. He dug up a supposed nest of robbers just a few days ago, near the Redmoor."
Anwyn looked to her left and pretended to have spotted something, as she considered eavesdropping rude, but she didn't dare turn to the woman standing next to her to ask what Trálír had to do with it.
But since she spoke of a new man at his side, Anwyn assumed that it was not Trálír but his father who was meant.
"Yet no one dares to tell the truth. Everyone is afraid that this will be taken to the ruler so that he has another reason to get rid of the next village. This soldier seems to be doing a good job, because he has ridden with his group of men to the next village and accused the inhabitants there of being in cahoots with the robbers. They captured several men involved in the sale of reddaggers, tortured them and extracted false confessions from them. Half of the prisoners were hanged, the other half had their heads cut off. I can't imagine the suffering of the people. It is said that the men also forced themselves on several girls and women. In addition, a small child was beaten to death," continued another female person with a dark voice, standing slightly behind Anwyn, who widened her eyes in shock at the words she heard. "The money of the killed men was of course confiscated and taken to the Blackwater Castle. The ruler and his damned brood must have listened with amusement to the elf's words when he told them that he had slaughtered a quarter of the village."
“No, that can't be!” Anwyn gasped and unconsciously put her fingertips quickly to her lips as if she wanted to avoid saying anything else. She stared in horror at the two women who turned to her, their eyes full of disgust. The young sales clerk's face twisted with hostility.
“You ... aren't you the whore of an elf's son?” asked the older woman with her light gray hair pinned up, dressed in a simple linen dress and holding a wicker basket in her hand.
“Yes, that's her,” the saleswoman added, her voice cold, open hatred evident in her eyes.
Anwyn swallowed.
“Why do you even offer your bread to someone like her?” the older woman said with a raised eyebrow, staring at Anwyn with contempt.
"Well, as far as I know, elf whores earn a fortune if they're good at spreading their legs. You can see that from the fact that she and her lover have enlarged their court," the young woman added, a wicked smile on her lips. "That will have cost a lot of coins. So she'll certainly pay me three times as much for the loaves of bread she wants, won't she? That would never be a problem for her, right?"
Anwyn nodded slowly, feeling the sobs rising in her chest. She cleared her throat as her eyes filled with tears and she told herself again and again in her mind that she must not show how much these words hurt her, how much her heart ached at the hatred she was exposed to.
With a soft sniffle, she carelessly grabbed a few coins, put them on the stand in shame and put the loaves of bread in her bag when someone suddenly grabbed her by the upper arm and turned her towards them. The old woman glared at her with hatred and spat in her face without saying another word. Anwyn's heart seemed to stop, no more words could be heard, it felt as even the wind had died down and the sun had hidden behind the clouds as she felt the saliva dripping down her cheek. For a few seconds her world stood completely still”]. She felt the eyes of those present on her and their gazes on her burned in her soul. She could almost taste the hatred in the air.
As if in a trance, Anwyn turned away speechlessly, trying to take one step after the other and hide the fact that every movement cost her an incredible amount of strength that she didn't feel. Her whole body trembled slightly as she thought only of fleeing.
Run, it screamed in her head. Run, just get away from here. Just get away.
She felt weak and wounded and every step she took was like staggering through a viscous, dark mass of hatred. When something hard hit her in the back, she began to cry. The stone that had hit her in the middle of the back was sure to leave a bruise. Everything inside her screamed to rush headlong forward, but she walked slowly and with her head held high, her gaze fixed ahead until she had left the village behind her. She sought shelter and solace in the forest, sat down on the bark of a large oak tree, clutched the cloth bag with the four loaves of bread and sobbed in agony.
Anwyn had not said a word, had not confided in Trálír, Eleri or her father. When enough time had passed and she had calmed down as best she could in the shadows of the forest, hidden from all the contempt she had been met with, she had decided not to tell anyone about this experience. It was just another deep wound in her relationship with the inhabitants of the village, which had been fragile since her birth. There were few people who were truly sympathetic to her and her father, even at the time when she had not known Trálír. Old Marga, the village healer or Bealdwine had always been friendly and courteous, while most of the village had a certain amount of politeness, but mostly treated her and her father with indifference. Now that Olghar had retired and Anwyn was working as a healer, she was surprised that the villagers' hatred of the elves, and therefore of her, was so open. Were the people in the village of The Old Oak not aware that there were no healers apart from her and old Olghar, who was becoming increasingly forgetful?
If you needed help or advice, you had to walk at least a day's march or even more in the hope of meeting a traveling Cleric. Did the villagers really believe that they would be treated by the elven healer at Blackwater Castle?
Well then, so be it, Anwyn thought, feeling the rage inside her at the injustice done to her and to Trálír. If it was so important to the humans to forgo healing or their tinctures just because she had given her heart to an elf who was so much more righteous and kind-hearted than this entire village combined, then so be it. She would no longer impose or offer her help.
Almost defiantly, Anwyn straightened up, still clutching the bag of bread to her chest, and stomped angrily back to the courtyard.
But with every step she took, she realized that despite all her anger and the humiliation she had suffered, she would not turn away anyone at her door who asked for help.
In a mixture of frustration and sadness, she walked home.
The sun had already moved on, so Anwyn stood in the blazing sunlight again and felt the sweat soaking her body. Perhaps she shouldn't wait until late at night for the bath she had planned, but pay a quick visit to the spring before dinner.
Anwyn could see from the position of the sun how much time she had left and as she worked on more fish, she felt that dark premonition again that had been smouldering in her heart for the last ten days.
This feeling had taken hold of her since the moment Trálír had confessed that they would visit his uncle together to experience their special moment. Disbelief, happiness, nervousness, Anwyn felt it all when he had told her of his plans and as much as she was happy, as much as she longed for two days and nights together, she also dreaded it.
She knew from an early age that life was neither fair nor just for the few who lived in the Blackwater Lands. There was no question that her life was better because of Trálír's influence. She didn't say a word to anyone, but Anwyn was afraid of the future. The last few years had passed without any major difficulties and although this should have been a reason to rejoice, it only added to the uncertainty she felt.
It was the proverbial calm before the oncoming storm and an indescribable nervousness spread through Anwyn. Now to hear that there had been an incident in which humans had lost their lives, probably under the flimsy excuses and lies on the elves' side, was not a good sign. And the fact that Trálír had to stay in the castle to receive ominous guests at times when the humans were celebrating Aine filled Anwyn with worry and fear.
Were these the signs of an impending war between elves and humans?
Next to the door of the house stood the table newly carved by Trálír for the daily work of gutting fish. It was made of heavy and solid wood and had a secure footing on the ground as well as enough space to carry out the daily work, which Anwyn now began to concentrate on. Midsummer would soon be drawing to a close, fall was not far off, but today's temperature would be hard on the inhabitants of the land under the constantly burning sun if they did not have the opportunity to hide in the shade.
The Blackwater lands were wild, with strong winds and much rain falling over the months, as well as a long and icy winter, but when the height of summer approached it could only be endured indoors or hidden in the dense forests.
For a brief moment, Anwyn thought of her father and Conall at sea, hoping that they were using a mixture of earth and water to cover the parts of their bodies that were not covered by cloth so that their skin would not burn. She had read about various tinctures and oils to prevent and treat these burns, and there was talk of rare crushed minthral petals, redwind oil or ground hornworts. These ingredients were rare and very hard to come by, and when they were, they came at an unimaginably high price that seemed unaffordable to ordinary people.
At least she could go about her work with peace of mind, seeing that both men had large straw hats in their hands to protect their heads from the sun.
Anwyn had been standing in the sun for less than a few breaths when she noticed the sweat gathering on the back of her neck, running down her spine under her green cotton undergarment and dampening her armpits. She quickly reached for the hem of her outer dress, slipped it out and folded it up. She went into the house, placed the dress on her bed and stepped back out into the heat.
Wearing two dresses on such a day, even if they were made of a light fabric, was definitely too much material on her body.
Anwyn took two steps to the side to get out of the glaring sunlight into the shade and let out a long, exhausted sigh. Even though she knew how to treat a sunburn, she didn't want to expose herself to the risk of a burn.
While she was gutting the fish, she decided to take a cool, refreshing dip in the spring after the hard and long day's work. She would have to wait until they had all eaten their evening meal, when the weight of the day had lifted, the sounds of the surroundings had quietened and the sun no longer shone down on them all so mercilessly and it had lost it’s strength to hurt.
Anwyn would probably have to gut another catch of fish after the men returned, but if Eleri was by her side and they both worked together, it would be possible to retreat to the spring before nightfall. She knew that Eleri would accompany her if she requested her presence, but she longed for solitude and silence. For a space to herself where she could deal with what she felt and feared.
By the light of a torch to make sure that no other being would approach her, she wanted to turn her gaze towards the firmament and try to get clarity about herself and her feelings.
While Anwyn picked up the first fish and put the knife to the fish's gill hole to slit it open to the gill cover, she thought back to the last few weeks.
For her, too, it had felt as if Trálír was now living with her and the others on the farm. He appeared almost every midday at the same time, as punctual as the sun in the firmament, and Anwyn's heart began to beat even faster when she heard Arod's hoofbeat, a clear sign that the high elf was on his way to them.
Since the yard gate was usually closed to keep the children and the dog from leaving the yard, Trálír always dismounted Arod before joining them. Holding him by the reins, he opened the gate, stepped inside with the stallion and carefully closed it again behind him. Now in the summer, he always led his stallion into the paddock so that he could relax next to the old donkey and enjoy the hay and fresh vegetables. Then his path always led him to Anwyn, no matter where she was. Whether in the yard, in her house or working on the garden beds, the day only began to look good for him when he saw her.
And when Anwyn noticed him, she felt joy and love fill her heart. She got never tired of seeing the laughter in his green-blue eyes, listening to his warm voice when he whispered her name or feeling his lips on hers.
As he had promised before the summer began, Trálír had gone to work as soon as the wood had been delivered to finish the new furniture. As Conall spent the afternoons until early evening at sea with her father, the high elf took care of the furniture making alone. Anwyn knew of his talent for such work, for he had built a barn and a house together with Ulthred and Conall, but she did not know how skilled he was when it came to cutting and assembling the wood.
He had even carved floral patterns into the cupboards and shelves, Anwyn realized with surprise. When she asked him how he had come to do this, he had confided that he too had had no friends in his childhood and youth. He had been surrounded by soldiers and monks, but none of them he could call a friend.
With a slight shake of her head and a heavy heart, she realized that even in the fifth year of their relationship, she discovered new things about Trálír that she hadn't known or suspected.
But should she really be surprised, Anwyn had wondered thoughtfully. Trálír was, after all, quite a bit older than her and had lived more than a normal human life.
If she ever reached that age, the gods would be very kind to her.
In a low voice - as if it were still a secret - Trálír had confided to her that even before the monks' lessons began in the early morning, he had spent his time working for the horse farmer, the blacksmith, the castle's carpenter or the hunters and their dogs.
Over the years, he had acquired a wide variety of skills, such as carving wood or cutting it to shape to be able to use it. He was capable of forging a sword or other weapons, making his own hunting bow or gutting fish when he was allowed to accompany Fairre on one of his rare fishing trips, not to mention hunting.
Everything else Trálír had learned in the years leading up to his present age came from all the books he had read in the quiet evenings in his chamber.
As Anwyn worked on one fish after another, she thought about how the elves were viewed by the humans, for it was not only Trálír's race that had prejudices against theirs. While they assumed a lack of intelligence and regarded the poverty of the Blackwater dwellers with raised eyebrows, the humans feared the elves for their indifference and cruelty.
Over the last two centuries, Trálír the Elder had managed to destroy the barley existing trust between elves, half-elves and humans completely. She remembered the books she had read that recalled long-ago wars between the elves and the humans, long before Trálír the Elder came to power. And she had heard about the great wars since she was a little girl, when she was sent to the village marketplace by her father to buy bread. She was small and agile, always careful not to attract attention, and so she was often hiding in a corner, listening to people’s words and stories, completely unnoticed.
Trálír's father regarded the human inhabitants with loathing and disgust. He usually punished them with indifference, but the latest information that reached her and the inhabitants of the Old Oak Village from the west of the Blackwater Lands, close to the border, was frightening.
Anwyn had walked unsuspectingly to the village yesterday morning and wanted to visit the market with the intention of buying bread and some other foodstuffs that she was unable to make herself.
As it was still early in the morning, the sun was not yet burning down on her and she enjoyed the distant sound of the waves crashing on the beach and the songs of the birds that she heard from the high, dense treetops. Lost in thought, Anwyn walked into the village and her feet unconsciously carried her to the small marketplace.
There she stopped at a stall where a young woman was selling bread and pastries, and as her gaze was fixed on the loaves of bread in front of her and Anwyn thought about how many she needed for three days, she missed the disapproving expression on the vendor's face and the evil look in her steely blue eyes.
Meanwhile, Anwyn had added up the amount of loaves of bread she wanted to buy and was reaching for her coin purse when she suddenly heard Trálír's name. With a rapidly beating heart, she paused and stared at her hand inside the cloth bag.
"... and it seems he has a new man at his side. He dug up a supposed nest of robbers just a few days ago, near the Redmoor."
Anwyn looked to her left and pretended to have spotted something, as she considered eavesdropping rude, but she didn't dare turn to the woman standing next to her to ask what Trálír had to do with it.
But since she spoke of a new man at his side, Anwyn assumed that it was not Trálír but his father who was meant.
"Yet no one dares to tell the truth. Everyone is afraid that this will be taken to the ruler so that he has another reason to get rid of the next village. This soldier seems to be doing a good job, because he has ridden with his group of men to the next village and accused the inhabitants there of being in cahoots with the robbers. They captured several men involved in the sale of reddaggers, tortured them and extracted false confessions from them. Half of the prisoners were hanged, the other half had their heads cut off. I can't imagine the suffering of the people. It is said that the men also forced themselves on several girls and women. In addition, a small child was beaten to death," continued another female person with a dark voice, standing slightly behind Anwyn, who widened her eyes in shock at the words she heard. "The money of the killed men was of course confiscated and taken to the Blackwater Castle. The ruler and his damned brood must have listened with amusement to the elf's words when he told them that he had slaughtered a quarter of the village."
“No, that can't be!” Anwyn gasped and unconsciously put her fingertips quickly to her lips as if she wanted to avoid saying anything else. She stared in horror at the two women who turned to her, their eyes full of disgust. The young sales clerk's face twisted with hostility.
“You ... aren't you the whore of an elf's son?” asked the older woman with her light gray hair pinned up, dressed in a simple linen dress and holding a wicker basket in her hand.
“Yes, that's her,” the saleswoman added, her voice cold, open hatred evident in her eyes.
Anwyn swallowed.
“Why do you even offer your bread to someone like her?” the older woman said with a raised eyebrow, staring at Anwyn with contempt.
"Well, as far as I know, elf whores earn a fortune if they're good at spreading their legs. You can see that from the fact that she and her lover have enlarged their court," the young woman added, a wicked smile on her lips. "That will have cost a lot of coins. So she'll certainly pay me three times as much for the loaves of bread she wants, won't she? That would never be a problem for her, right?"
Anwyn nodded slowly, feeling the sobs rising in her chest. She cleared her throat as her eyes filled with tears and she told herself again and again in her mind that she must not show how much these words hurt her, how much her heart ached at the hatred she was exposed to.
With a soft sniffle, she carelessly grabbed a few coins, put them on the stand in shame and put the loaves of bread in her bag when someone suddenly grabbed her by the upper arm and turned her towards them. The old woman glared at her with hatred and spat in her face without saying another word. Anwyn's heart seemed to stop, no more words could be heard, it felt as even the wind had died down and the sun had hidden behind the clouds as she felt the saliva dripping down her cheek. For a few seconds her world stood completely still”]. She felt the eyes of those present on her and their gazes on her burned in her soul. She could almost taste the hatred in the air.
As if in a trance, Anwyn turned away speechlessly, trying to take one step after the other and hide the fact that every movement cost her an incredible amount of strength that she didn't feel. Her whole body trembled slightly as she thought only of fleeing.
Run, it screamed in her head. Run, just get away from here. Just get away.
She felt weak and wounded and every step she took was like staggering through a viscous, dark mass of hatred. When something hard hit her in the back, she began to cry. The stone that had hit her in the middle of the back was sure to leave a bruise. Everything inside her screamed to rush headlong forward, but she walked slowly and with her head held high, her gaze fixed ahead until she had left the village behind her. She sought shelter and solace in the forest, sat down on the bark of a large oak tree, clutched the cloth bag with the four loaves of bread and sobbed in agony.
Anwyn had not said a word, had not confided in Trálír, Eleri or her father. When enough time had passed and she had calmed down as best she could in the shadows of the forest, hidden from all the contempt she had been met with, she had decided not to tell anyone about this experience. It was just another deep wound in her relationship with the inhabitants of the village, which had been fragile since her birth. There were few people who were truly sympathetic to her and her father, even at the time when she had not known Trálír. Old Marga, the village healer or Bealdwine had always been friendly and courteous, while most of the village had a certain amount of politeness, but mostly treated her and her father with indifference. Now that Olghar had retired and Anwyn was working as a healer, she was surprised that the villagers' hatred of the elves, and therefore of her, was so open. Were the people in the village of The Old Oak not aware that there were no healers apart from her and old Olghar, who was becoming increasingly forgetful?
If you needed help or advice, you had to walk at least a day's march or even more in the hope of meeting a traveling Cleric. Did the villagers really believe that they would be treated by the elven healer at Blackwater Castle?
Well then, so be it, Anwyn thought, feeling the rage inside her at the injustice done to her and to Trálír. If it was so important to the humans to forgo healing or their tinctures just because she had given her heart to an elf who was so much more righteous and kind-hearted than this entire village combined, then so be it. She would no longer impose or offer her help.
Almost defiantly, Anwyn straightened up, still clutching the bag of bread to her chest, and stomped angrily back to the courtyard.
But with every step she took, she realized that despite all her anger and the humiliation she had suffered, she would not turn away anyone at her door who asked for help.
In a mixture of frustration and sadness, she walked home.
The sun had already moved on, so Anwyn stood in the blazing sunlight again and felt the sweat soaking her body. Perhaps she shouldn't wait until late at night for the bath she had planned, but pay a quick visit to the spring before dinner.
Anwyn could see from the position of the sun how much time she had left and as she worked on more fish, she felt that dark premonition again that had been smouldering in her heart for the last ten days.
This feeling had taken hold of her since the moment Trálír had confessed that they would visit his uncle together to experience their special moment. Disbelief, happiness, nervousness, Anwyn felt it all when he had told her of his plans and as much as she was happy, as much as she longed for two days and nights together, she also dreaded it.
She knew from an early age that life was neither fair nor just for the few who lived in the Blackwater Lands. There was no question that her life was better because of Trálír's influence. She didn't say a word to anyone, but Anwyn was afraid of the future. The last few years had passed without any major difficulties and although this should have been a reason to rejoice, it only added to the uncertainty she felt.
It was the proverbial calm before the oncoming storm and an indescribable nervousness spread through Anwyn. Now to hear that there had been an incident in which humans had lost their lives, probably under the flimsy excuses and lies on the elves' side, was not a good sign. And the fact that Trálír had to stay in the castle to receive ominous guests at times when the humans were celebrating Aine filled Anwyn with worry and fear.
Were these the signs of an impending war between elves and humans?
(no subject)
Date: 2025-06-15 12:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2025-07-11 09:16 pm (UTC)🧡🧡🧡
(no subject)
Date: 2025-06-15 06:01 pm (UTC)*hugs*
(no subject)
Date: 2025-06-23 12:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2025-06-15 07:58 pm (UTC)Ich habe die Geschichte (und dich natürlich auch ❤️) sehr vermisst, obwohl ich selbst auch etwas länger abwesend von DW war.
(no subject)
Date: 2025-06-23 12:03 pm (UTC)...auch wenn mir Anwyn unfassbar Leid tut.
Mir auch. Und das war auch gar nicht so leicht das zu schreiben. :o
Ich habe dich auch vermisst!!
❤️❤️❤️
(no subject)
Date: 2025-06-16 06:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2025-06-17 08:31 pm (UTC)I actually wrote a lot on my mums laptop but those chapters are in NEED of re-writing. ;D
So, I will post the next chapter on Sunday. :) <3