![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
haebinIt's time for a new chapter, right? I hope you'll enjoy it!
And thank you so, so much for reading!!
With a sigh, Trálír swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then finally sat up and let Andrick help him into the first robe. It was a high-necked silver garment with a high silk collar that felt like a gentle yet cool embrace to Trálír. Over it, he wore another robe, made of a more muted silver that looked almost like a light gray and provided the perfect backdrop for the lighter embroidery on the garment, allowing it to be noticed first by the viewer. The sleeves of the robe were floor-length and made of a muted blue that reminded him of the color of the sea when winter covered the land with its frosty cold. Silver threads were also embroidered into the fabric, creating a pattern that resembled a cascading waterfall. When he wanted to sit down again, Andrick pointed to the table where Trálír usually sat when he wanted to read or have a cup of tea. The armchair behind it wasn't really perfect for the next step, but he was sure that the maid wouldn't see this as an obstacle.
But he suppressed the sigh he would have loved to let out, already aware what lay ahead of him.
Trálír knew what was expected of him; after all, he was the heir and the next ruler of the Blackwater Lands, and receiving guests and hosting balls were part of his duties. As were defending the castle and the entire country, exercising jurisdiction, administering every community, and setting taxes and duties.
This included evenings such as tonight, when relationships were strengthened and new agreements made.
Dressing like a ranger was not permitted; instead, he was expected to wear robes made of the finest fabrics and behave like a ruler.
He found it repugnant and wished he were far away at such moments. Before he met Anwyn, it had always been his wish to return to the forest and enjoy the solitude. Even though he often said he was going hunting, he did not always do so. Most times he simply wandered silently through the countryside, reading the tracks of the forest dwellers, the paths they took, and taking care of the occasional goblin that could become a danger. Trálír let bears and wolves go their way as long as they did not pose a threat to the few inhabitants of the land. So far, he had not encountered any evil forest spirits, nor had he ever met any of the few forest gnomes who were said to have hollowed out one or two large tree trunks. As a young elf, he had once found an old, abandoned tunnel in a forest gnome settlement that led to a large storage cave under the forest floor, but it seemed to have been abandoned centuries ago.
“My lord?” A soft, feminine voice. He looked up and saw the maid standing at the small table, her gaze questioning.
“Of course,” he replied, then rose, took the few steps to the chair, and sat down again. Both maids followed him and stood behind him, one of them beginning to brush his long hair.
Trálír was exhausted and tired, but couldn't help enjoying the touch. He felt one of the women part his hair and begin to braid a few strands, which the second woman wove into an elegant braided hairstyle. The rest of his loose hair fell down his back as he sat up. He looked questioningly at Andrick, who was now standing next to him, holding a delicate piece of jewelry made of the finest silver in his hands.
“A piece of jewelry?” Trálír asked with a sigh, raising an eyebrow. “Is that really necessary?”
The older valet shrugged apologetically. “Your father demands it,” he replied, sounding uncomfortable delivering this message.
“Why should it be any different?” Trálír muttered and bowed his head while Andrick and the maids put the jewelry on him, making sure it was placed perfectly. The valet took a step back and bowed to the ruler's son, a proud smile on his lips.
Trálír sensed that the feeling came from the fact that he really did look like an elf of noble birth in the robes and jewelry, and smiled indulgently.
He then stood up straight, his gaze fixed on the valet and the maids who were now walking toward the door. Andrick opened it, then stepped aside and bowed, as did the two maids.
“You should not bow before me, Andrick,” Trálír said to the old elf, looking also at the two half-elves. “You've known me since I was a little boy.”
But the older elf couldn't help but grin slightly and replied, “And yet you are the son of the ruler.”
And Trálír knew that even if the valet didn't say it, he and his assistants would have to face the consequences if they didn't treat him like the heir to the Blackwater Lands. So he nodded to the old man and the women, walked past them and down the long corridor lit by torches. As he approached the Grand Staircase, he could already hear the excited and cheerful chatter of the guests.
Trálír suppressed a sigh, then descended the stairs and bowed politely to the occasional guest whose gaze met his. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he spotted Neererin, who was now wearing the armor of the First Hand, a sign of his high rank.
He stood next to him, tilted his head slightly to one side, and whispered to the elf, “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to rest.”
Neererin smiled mildly. “It feels like the whole castle has been resting all morning and afternoon. Alcohol flowed freely last night, and it looks like it will be the same tonight, judging by some of the guests.”
At that moment, he heard the loud laughter of a guest from Silverdew, which confirmed his hunch and his words. He raised an eyebrow and Trálír rolled his eyes slightly.
“At least I've learned my lesson and will spend the evening abstinent,” murmured the ruler's son, letting his gaze wander over the guests. He spotted his brother at the other end of the hall, looking grim, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
His expression seems fitting for the garb Father probably forced him to wear, thought Trálír, looking at his brother's dark robe.
His large, athletic body was clad in a dark gray sleeveless garment, although the black velvet robe underneath must have been anything but comfortable in the warmth of the hall. Various intertwined patterns were embroidered in gold thread onto the dark gray fabric, and a wide gold belt bearing the same pattern encircled his waist. Surprising were the overlapping metal haute pieces, reminiscent of dragon scales, which extended from his chest to just above his elbows.
In contrast to the light garment he himself wore, which felt comfortable, cool, and light, Tearlách's robe seemed heavy and too warm for the hot weather, even though the temperature inside the castle was much more pleasant than outside. Nevertheless, the lit torches and candles would make the hall unbearably warm in no time.
Trálír let go of his brother and looked over the guests. All were dressed in the finest, most expensive garments, many of them displaying their wealth with luxurious jewelry or filigree ornaments worn on their heads.
Then his gaze fell on his father, and Trálír raised his eyebrows in astonishment.
A... crown?
A golden crown studded with numerous rubies sat upon his father's head, while his clothing was a mixture of a noble robe and armor. He wore golden bracers, also decorated with rubies, and two gold haute pieces were layered over his shoulders. A blacksmith had stamped intertwined patterns into the armor, and Trálír suspected that this must have taken days, given how delicate the lines were. His father's robe was made of the purest white silk, and the garment he wore underneath was blood red. The borders of his robe were embroidered with the same pattern as those on his shoulder armor.
The long white cape, also made of silk, reached to the floor. The buckle of the golden belt was shaped like a sun and made entirely of rubies.
His father's appearance completely overshadowed the obvious wealth of his guests, and Trálír would have loved to shake his head. Such a display of wealth and power was repugnant to him, so he stood next to Neererin and watched the guests in silence. The noise level of the crowd suddenly increased, and Trálír followed the guests' gaze, which was directed toward the Grand Staircase. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the Duke of Moonhaven walking down the stairs with his wife by his side, also dressed in the finest clothing. Their robes were made of dark blue silk, which reminded Trálír of an eerie, moonless night. The numerous filigree embroideries were made of gold, which made their robes stand out a little from the garments of the guests. Even the firstborn could see from a distance that the silk was of such high quality that it was probably sourced from Sembia, a nation of extremely powerful trading houses.
Duke Bergond Silverleaf nodded politely to Trálír, who responded with a friendly smile. He also bowed deeply as the duke's wife passed him with a gentle smile on her lips. When he straightened up, his gaze fell on Ysilia and his eyes widened.
Like an angelic figure, the young elf seemed to float down the stairs.
Her slender body was clad in a silken silver robe, the sleeves reaching to the floor and the train of the fine fabric several feet long. She wore her long hair loose, a silver jeweled crown with emeralds adorning her head. The smile on her lips was gentle and friendly. She raised her hand toward his father, who bowed before her and pretended to kiss her hand. Trálír the Elder took her hand, then turned to his firstborn son and asked him to take Ysilia's hand in his and escort her to the table.
Trálír nodded obediently, offered Ysilia his hand, and gave her an encouraging smile, which she returned radiantly. As they walked together to the table, she leaned toward him slightly and whispered, “Are you feeling a little better?”
Surprised, Trálír looked at the young elf. “Do you think I'm not feeling well?” he replied with a smile, and Ysilia grinned mischievously. “Well, since you were so fond of wine yesterday, I thought you might have had a little trouble getting up this morning.”
Trálír's gaze darkened at Ysilia's words and he looked at her apologetically. “Forgive me for not giving you the attention you deserved yesterday.”
To his surprise, Ysilia shrugged and replied, “I'm sure you had a good reason for... well...” She paused and smiled understandingly. "For dwelling on your thoughts. And believe me, you weren't the only one who enjoyed too much of the good wine yesterday. My father also had trouble getting out of bed this morning. "
Trálír laughed loudly. They had now reached the table and the servant pulled out the chairs so that he and Ysilia could sit down. When another servant approached the table with a carafe of wine, Trálír raised his hand and shook his head.
“No wine for me today,” he said, pointing instead to his seatmate. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
Ysilia shook her head with a smile and turned to the young half-elf. “If it's no trouble, bring us a carafe of water. The ruler's son wants to set a good example, doesn't he?”
Trálír grinned and replied, “So be it.”
And thank you so, so much for reading!!
With a sigh, Trálír swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then finally sat up and let Andrick help him into the first robe. It was a high-necked silver garment with a high silk collar that felt like a gentle yet cool embrace to Trálír. Over it, he wore another robe, made of a more muted silver that looked almost like a light gray and provided the perfect backdrop for the lighter embroidery on the garment, allowing it to be noticed first by the viewer. The sleeves of the robe were floor-length and made of a muted blue that reminded him of the color of the sea when winter covered the land with its frosty cold. Silver threads were also embroidered into the fabric, creating a pattern that resembled a cascading waterfall. When he wanted to sit down again, Andrick pointed to the table where Trálír usually sat when he wanted to read or have a cup of tea. The armchair behind it wasn't really perfect for the next step, but he was sure that the maid wouldn't see this as an obstacle.
But he suppressed the sigh he would have loved to let out, already aware what lay ahead of him.
Trálír knew what was expected of him; after all, he was the heir and the next ruler of the Blackwater Lands, and receiving guests and hosting balls were part of his duties. As were defending the castle and the entire country, exercising jurisdiction, administering every community, and setting taxes and duties.
This included evenings such as tonight, when relationships were strengthened and new agreements made.
Dressing like a ranger was not permitted; instead, he was expected to wear robes made of the finest fabrics and behave like a ruler.
He found it repugnant and wished he were far away at such moments. Before he met Anwyn, it had always been his wish to return to the forest and enjoy the solitude. Even though he often said he was going hunting, he did not always do so. Most times he simply wandered silently through the countryside, reading the tracks of the forest dwellers, the paths they took, and taking care of the occasional goblin that could become a danger. Trálír let bears and wolves go their way as long as they did not pose a threat to the few inhabitants of the land. So far, he had not encountered any evil forest spirits, nor had he ever met any of the few forest gnomes who were said to have hollowed out one or two large tree trunks. As a young elf, he had once found an old, abandoned tunnel in a forest gnome settlement that led to a large storage cave under the forest floor, but it seemed to have been abandoned centuries ago.
“My lord?” A soft, feminine voice. He looked up and saw the maid standing at the small table, her gaze questioning.
“Of course,” he replied, then rose, took the few steps to the chair, and sat down again. Both maids followed him and stood behind him, one of them beginning to brush his long hair.
Trálír was exhausted and tired, but couldn't help enjoying the touch. He felt one of the women part his hair and begin to braid a few strands, which the second woman wove into an elegant braided hairstyle. The rest of his loose hair fell down his back as he sat up. He looked questioningly at Andrick, who was now standing next to him, holding a delicate piece of jewelry made of the finest silver in his hands.
“A piece of jewelry?” Trálír asked with a sigh, raising an eyebrow. “Is that really necessary?”
The older valet shrugged apologetically. “Your father demands it,” he replied, sounding uncomfortable delivering this message.
“Why should it be any different?” Trálír muttered and bowed his head while Andrick and the maids put the jewelry on him, making sure it was placed perfectly. The valet took a step back and bowed to the ruler's son, a proud smile on his lips.
Trálír sensed that the feeling came from the fact that he really did look like an elf of noble birth in the robes and jewelry, and smiled indulgently.
He then stood up straight, his gaze fixed on the valet and the maids who were now walking toward the door. Andrick opened it, then stepped aside and bowed, as did the two maids.
“You should not bow before me, Andrick,” Trálír said to the old elf, looking also at the two half-elves. “You've known me since I was a little boy.”
But the older elf couldn't help but grin slightly and replied, “And yet you are the son of the ruler.”
And Trálír knew that even if the valet didn't say it, he and his assistants would have to face the consequences if they didn't treat him like the heir to the Blackwater Lands. So he nodded to the old man and the women, walked past them and down the long corridor lit by torches. As he approached the Grand Staircase, he could already hear the excited and cheerful chatter of the guests.
Trálír suppressed a sigh, then descended the stairs and bowed politely to the occasional guest whose gaze met his. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he spotted Neererin, who was now wearing the armor of the First Hand, a sign of his high rank.
He stood next to him, tilted his head slightly to one side, and whispered to the elf, “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to rest.”
Neererin smiled mildly. “It feels like the whole castle has been resting all morning and afternoon. Alcohol flowed freely last night, and it looks like it will be the same tonight, judging by some of the guests.”
At that moment, he heard the loud laughter of a guest from Silverdew, which confirmed his hunch and his words. He raised an eyebrow and Trálír rolled his eyes slightly.
“At least I've learned my lesson and will spend the evening abstinent,” murmured the ruler's son, letting his gaze wander over the guests. He spotted his brother at the other end of the hall, looking grim, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
His expression seems fitting for the garb Father probably forced him to wear, thought Trálír, looking at his brother's dark robe.
His large, athletic body was clad in a dark gray sleeveless garment, although the black velvet robe underneath must have been anything but comfortable in the warmth of the hall. Various intertwined patterns were embroidered in gold thread onto the dark gray fabric, and a wide gold belt bearing the same pattern encircled his waist. Surprising were the overlapping metal haute pieces, reminiscent of dragon scales, which extended from his chest to just above his elbows.
In contrast to the light garment he himself wore, which felt comfortable, cool, and light, Tearlách's robe seemed heavy and too warm for the hot weather, even though the temperature inside the castle was much more pleasant than outside. Nevertheless, the lit torches and candles would make the hall unbearably warm in no time.
Trálír let go of his brother and looked over the guests. All were dressed in the finest, most expensive garments, many of them displaying their wealth with luxurious jewelry or filigree ornaments worn on their heads.
Then his gaze fell on his father, and Trálír raised his eyebrows in astonishment.
A... crown?
A golden crown studded with numerous rubies sat upon his father's head, while his clothing was a mixture of a noble robe and armor. He wore golden bracers, also decorated with rubies, and two gold haute pieces were layered over his shoulders. A blacksmith had stamped intertwined patterns into the armor, and Trálír suspected that this must have taken days, given how delicate the lines were. His father's robe was made of the purest white silk, and the garment he wore underneath was blood red. The borders of his robe were embroidered with the same pattern as those on his shoulder armor.
The long white cape, also made of silk, reached to the floor. The buckle of the golden belt was shaped like a sun and made entirely of rubies.
His father's appearance completely overshadowed the obvious wealth of his guests, and Trálír would have loved to shake his head. Such a display of wealth and power was repugnant to him, so he stood next to Neererin and watched the guests in silence. The noise level of the crowd suddenly increased, and Trálír followed the guests' gaze, which was directed toward the Grand Staircase. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the Duke of Moonhaven walking down the stairs with his wife by his side, also dressed in the finest clothing. Their robes were made of dark blue silk, which reminded Trálír of an eerie, moonless night. The numerous filigree embroideries were made of gold, which made their robes stand out a little from the garments of the guests. Even the firstborn could see from a distance that the silk was of such high quality that it was probably sourced from Sembia, a nation of extremely powerful trading houses.
Duke Bergond Silverleaf nodded politely to Trálír, who responded with a friendly smile. He also bowed deeply as the duke's wife passed him with a gentle smile on her lips. When he straightened up, his gaze fell on Ysilia and his eyes widened.
Like an angelic figure, the young elf seemed to float down the stairs.
Her slender body was clad in a silken silver robe, the sleeves reaching to the floor and the train of the fine fabric several feet long. She wore her long hair loose, a silver jeweled crown with emeralds adorning her head. The smile on her lips was gentle and friendly. She raised her hand toward his father, who bowed before her and pretended to kiss her hand. Trálír the Elder took her hand, then turned to his firstborn son and asked him to take Ysilia's hand in his and escort her to the table.
Trálír nodded obediently, offered Ysilia his hand, and gave her an encouraging smile, which she returned radiantly. As they walked together to the table, she leaned toward him slightly and whispered, “Are you feeling a little better?”
Surprised, Trálír looked at the young elf. “Do you think I'm not feeling well?” he replied with a smile, and Ysilia grinned mischievously. “Well, since you were so fond of wine yesterday, I thought you might have had a little trouble getting up this morning.”
Trálír's gaze darkened at Ysilia's words and he looked at her apologetically. “Forgive me for not giving you the attention you deserved yesterday.”
To his surprise, Ysilia shrugged and replied, “I'm sure you had a good reason for... well...” She paused and smiled understandingly. "For dwelling on your thoughts. And believe me, you weren't the only one who enjoyed too much of the good wine yesterday. My father also had trouble getting out of bed this morning. "
Trálír laughed loudly. They had now reached the table and the servant pulled out the chairs so that he and Ysilia could sit down. When another servant approached the table with a carafe of wine, Trálír raised his hand and shook his head.
“No wine for me today,” he said, pointing instead to his seatmate. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
Ysilia shook her head with a smile and turned to the young half-elf. “If it's no trouble, bring us a carafe of water. The ruler's son wants to set a good example, doesn't he?”
Trálír grinned and replied, “So be it.”
no subject
Date: 2025-11-09 07:28 pm (UTC)Trálír und Ysilia scheinen sich ja ganz gut zu verstehen :)
no subject
Date: 2025-11-10 10:06 am (UTC)Vielen, vielen Dank für deine Rückmeldung, das bedeutet mir viel!
♥️♥️♥️
no subject
Date: 2025-11-10 04:07 pm (UTC)