The Road Home
The carriage met her half way, just as expected. It had been a tiresome walk, but not due to its length. Eylinn’s head had become its own battlefield, where the mighty forces of grief and guilt were pitted against the complete void. Her thin field dress was heavy, yet it wasn’t. Her bow and dagger crooked her back, even though they were light as feathers. It encumbered her, while at the same time, it really wasn’t. She did not know how to feel, which was probably the worst thing of all.
“Where to, mistress?” The coachman asked.
“Home, and no need to rush.” She replied without meaning it.
It was a roomy carriage, just not as large as she remembered. The windows turned into colourful canvas’, portraying fields, forests and the golden sunset as they passed the border between Ecclestius and Galadriel. She pulled the curtains together, too tired for awe and beauty. She just wanted to be alone with her thoughts, without the outside world intruding. Just for a little while longer. She closed her eyes. It didn’t help. A spectacle of green, black and red was played before her.
The sharp scimitar severing the limbs and flesh of Dwarves, Human and Elf alike. It wasn’t something you could describe in mere words. She didn’t want to watch it anymore, so she asked for something else. She might as well have asked the mountain to bow, or the wind to turn the other way. The more she asked it to stop, the more intense it became. The old man took a firm grip of her throat...
“Wait, this never happen! Stop it!” He just squeezed harder, suffocating her.
“No! Let me go!” She tried to scream, but no words could be heard. She was running out of air. The grotesque figure let his other hand slide down her garbs,up her thighs, and thrusted his bony hands into her.
“Kill me! Kill me now!” Her father stopped, looking at her, shocked and struck with grief. Then he leaned back in his chair, and spoke again.
“We’re here. You need to wake up now, Eylinn.” She slowly opened her eyes. She felt like she had slept for days.
“Wha... Where?” Eylinn let out a yawn that would put a mountain giant to shame. Right next to her father sat Alvon, half smiling, half dour. “Dear heavens and all that is holy! Have you been watching me sleep?!”
“Not much else for entertainment, now is there?” Her mentor replied.
“You’re mean...” She staged a pout, but could not hold back the second yawn, rivalling her first. Galimon chuckled.
“A true princess if I ever saw one. You might want to comb your hair.”
“Why? I’ll just tie it up like I always do.”
“There will be no such thing, young lady. We’re in the capital now. The Golden City. Even us Elves need to follow the customs of Humans when in their lands. Especially in the lands of a Human Emperor.” Eylinn met her father’s gaze. She soured with her whole face, but to no avail. He would sour in kind.
“Fine...”
The carriage rolled into the Harbour and parked at the valet by the gate. The walls were tall! Tall as trees! Almost as tall as the canyon walls back home! Eylinn wanted to climb them, but something told her that was just not going to happen. It was her first time outside Galadriel, and what a place to start! It had took them an hour since her waking up to arrive to these quarters, and by then, they had already passed the main gate.
“What do you think?” Her father asked.
“It smells vile...” Alvon said while stepping out of the carriage.
“I wasn’t really...” Galimon stopped himself, instead letting out a laugh.
“Father!” Eylinn exclaimed in her usual blunt way. “Can we go eat?”
“I’m afraid not, love. We’re not here to... muse ourselves with the bounty of luxury, or explore the architecture. We need to go to the castle, and discuss matters of the realm. Remember?”
“But father! I want to see the city!” She staged another pout. Such weird behaviour from a twelve year old, Galimon thought. He looked at Alvon.
“You won’t hear the end of it. There’s a whole carriageway back home, and I can promise you, I would rather ride on the roof than sit in there. Or just walk.” Eylinn cracked a mischievous smile.
“Allright... But you will take Alvon with you.” The young girl let out a soaring jubilation.
“You said what now?” Alvon looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
“ But by noon, you will be at the castle. You must promise me this.”
“Yes! Oh, yes! Yes, father!” She hugged him. Alvon did not hug him.
The two set their first route to the market. Where every other young noble girl would have fluttered by the shear amount of different garments, pearls, assorted jewelry and exotic goods, Eylinn had much different things on her mind. Weapons, sharp objects and other lethal machinations. Not to buy, but to study. To learn how to counter them, how their wielder would most likely use them. Also, because they were really pretty.
As they passed the stalls, she stopped to look at an especially wide blade.
“Why?” She looked at the clerk, puzzled.
“The heavier, the easier it is to cut a man.”
“What if he wears armour?”
“With a blade this size, you’d crush every bone in his body. With, or without, armour.”
“Sounds impractical. The time it would have taken to lift, aim your hand, and then to gain enough momentum to swing it down with force hard enough to damage a person in armour, would leave the wielder, in his armour, open for hundreds of strikes. Right through the joints.” The clerk’s eyes narrowed.
“Have you ever seen an Orc wield one of these things?”
“No. How does that change anything?” The clerk leaned forward over his desk.
“Because an Orc wields a double-handed sword like a little elf-child would wield a dagger. He’d slice ye’ all up, before you even see his joints. Oh! And when speaking of goblins...” A man, fully covered in plate armour, twice the size of Alvon, had stopped on his way up the street. Eylinn turned very quiet at this point. Not because of the Orc, but because of what happened behind him. The reason the Orc had stopped.
A human was beating an Elf woman with his belt. Her clothes torn, her face bruised, and her back bloodied.
“I told you to refill the wine! Did I not?! You gashing filth!” It didn’t matter to him she had gone beyond screaming at this point. She had no strength left for that. Neither did she resist. All she could do was grasp the iron chain around her neck, and squeeze it so hard, that maybe, maybe, it would help her forget the pain. Eylinn looked around. Why isn’t anyone reacting? Why isn’t anyone telling him to stop? She looked at Alvon. Not even him. He just looked at the spectacle with a face of distaste. Not a word.
The human turned into a frenzy, hitting harder, faster, deeper, clearly angered by the woman’s lack of reaction. Eylinn reached for her dagger, but it wasn’t there.
“We left our weapons at home. All of us. Why did we do that?!” She started to cry in silence. What on Earth was happening? Then, finally, the massive Orc in his full armour stepped forward and towered himself over the human, who started to hit slower, and slower, until he was hitting no more.
“Quite the specimen you have there.” A deep voice, half growling, echoed from inside the armour.
“Y...Yes... She wasn’t cheap.”
“What a waste then. If it was beating, and humiliating another was all you asked for, rough men around your size is sold for a third an Elf woman’s prize.” The Human turned silent, frozen in fear. Gigantic pearls of sweat started to pop up on his brow. “So are you a woman then?”
“N-No!”
“Are you a coward then?”
“Wh...What? N...”
“You’re telling an Orc you’re a coward?! Do you know what Orcs does with cowards?!” Eylinn did not think it possible, but she could have sworn he had grown twice as large, and the human twice as small, during the course of this interrogation.
“P-Plea...”
“You’ll be giving me that slave now.” It was clearly not up for debate. Quite a crowd had gathered, eager to see the conclusion of this most dramatic display. The human dropped his belt, and looked around for any help. Whatever little he could have mustered. There was none to be found. He grabbed the chain which the woman had clenched at and handed it over. The Orc pulled the woman to her feet and took a firm grip of her chin. He turned her head left, and then right, then he let go.
“You’re damaged.” He took a firm grip of her neck collar of iron, and ripped it into two pieces with seemingly no effort. He then proceeded to give her three coins of silver. “You may leave now.”
The young elf bowed as deep as she could without falling, then turned around and limped away from the square into a side road leading to the slum.
Eylinn still sobbed in silence, her cheeks drenched with tears. The Orc turned his head and looked upon the two Elves for a moment, then went on his way and out of sight with heavy, clunky steps. The armour rustle could still be heard and go silent before she regained her speech.
“You did nothing...” Alvon lowered his head.
“Why do you think your father is here?” She let out a few more loud sobs before not saying anything.
“Why do you think any Elf would ever go here?”
“You didn’t even try...”
“It’s the law.” Alvon reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, but she jerked it off her and stepped back, her eyes poisonous and a face distorted by anger.
“Don’t touch me!” She yelled. Alvon straightened his back.
“You had to find out eventually. Our people are a commodity outside the canyon. Little girls like you, could buy a man a mansion.” She turned her head half way, refusing to shy away with her eyes. She hated him now. Someone who cares about you doesn’t tell you such things.
“I teach you how to fight so that won’t happen. But if you strike first, you be lucky to end up as someone’s property. They’ll take you to the cathedral, they will cut your head off, and they will mount it on the castle gate. But not before they’ve taken turns with you. Throw you naked on a stone floor, and kept going until the pain never goes away. And it doesn’t matter to them if you even had your first bleeding.” Why won’t he just stop? Why is he being so mean? Eylinn had never felt so scared in her entire life! He tried again. Bent his knees and laid a hand upon her shoulder.
“Who have you saved then?” She still couldn’t understand. Or rather, she didn’t want to.
“I want to go to the castle now...” They slowly started to move up towards the castle. It would be a tiresome walk, not due to its length. Eylinn’s head had become its own battlefield, where the mighty forces of grief and guilt were pitted against the complete void. But it was broken up abruptly by a horse and cart dashing down the road they were walking. In the cart stood screaming men, women and children of Elf, Human, and even Dwarven race. They were all naked, not even wearing a simple rag. And after the first, came another. And then another. And they wouldn’t stop flashing by in impossible speed. More and more, and it wouldn’t stop. The world was spinning, but their faces was clear as day. The horror, the grief, the tears, the chains. Chains everywhere. The world was red, it was black, it was green. A giant scimitar cleaved them all. Horse, cart, the Dwarf, Galdor who was thrown to the ground. All it took was a knock, and Eylinn darted up from her long sleep.
“Mistress?” She opened her curtains and looked out. She was in Lúrien, and Alvon stood there in his most respectable and quiet demeanour. “Mistress, are you alright?”
“Y-Yes, I was just taking a short nap.” She dismounted the carriage. “The necromancer defeated our party. Not many survived.”
“Mistress, we have terrible news...”
At least no news, however ill, could be worse than this.
