Books of Elves: Prequil Part 1

There was a lake in a valley between three huge mountains. Two figures made their way towards a creaky old dock that went only a few yards into the lake. A classic father and son duo; setting out for adventure on the lakeside. Both were clothed in thin simple white tunics tied in the middle by a leather belt and loose fit brown pants were tied to their shins. They didn’t wear any shoes since it was summertime. The old wood whined beneath their weight and soon the duo was unpacked and ready to fish.

A huge rock at sat at the dock’s edge. The dark haired boy stood silently, watching his father beside him tying thick twine around the rock. The boy stood only to his dad’s elbow. The rock lay only a hair from the edge, looking as if it could topple at any moment. Normally it was used to sink traps to the bottom, or even secure fishing lines and a line was etched on the rock where it had been used many times in the past. The late afternoon sun was unusually bright, causing ripples to reflect thin shifting streaks of light across their slender figures.

His father smiled at him, his facial hair flittering in the breeze. He jerked the rope a little to test its strength and then stood up. The man’s golden hair glistened in the sunlight, its billowing locks unbound and reaching his mid-back.

The boy grinned up at him when he placed a hand on his head - his chestnut brown eyes glittering. Even though this was the anniversary of his mom’s death, he and his father were still able to enjoy themselves. They sat on the edge of the dock – his father tied a rope around his waist and attached it to the rock.

“I don’t want you falling off the dock, Mirein.”

The boy only giggled at his name, “I don’t want to fall in, Papa.”

“Good.” The man’s smile did not reach its full potential but Mirein ignored it. They stared out into the world around them. “Nature is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yep!” Silence fell between them, and for a few minutes Mirein began wondering when they were going to cast lines.

“Papa?” He looked a little concerned at his father.

“What is it?”

“When are we going to catch fish?”

“My boy,” the father smiled, but not as friendly as usual, “In a minute.”

“Oh, okay-“

“We have to get some bait first.” His father was staring at him.

Mirein’s smile began to disappear, “Bait?”

The father nodded and after a few quiet moments, sighed, gritting his teeth, and he finally stood up after a moment, “Son,” he began, sounding very profound, ”there comes a time when an elf must vanquish his fears.”

The boy watched silently, his dad’s actions beginning to frighten him, “Papa?”

“I'll be rid of that wench's memory,” he growled in his native elvish tongue to himself before looking back at Mirein.

“Papa, what’re you-“

“Good bye, son.” His father pushed on the rock.

The boy shrieked and ran to hug his father’s leg, “Papa!”

“Good riddance to you, you filthy child,” the man gave him the iciest glare he had ever seen. His father pushed him away and used his foot to kick off the rock. Mirein’s insides were spinning around as a sudden realization came to mind. The perfectly wrapped ropes spun wildly into the water until, seconds later, Mirein toppled and was dragged deep beneath the surface.

He held his breath as best he could and sealed his eyes shut, diving deeper and deeper into the murky depths. The lake they were at was steady for a few feet off shore, then, dropped nearly a hundred feet just after the dock. The rock carried him further and further beneath the surface. He held his breath, tossing and turning to try and free his waist. His little fingers were not strong enough to temper the tight knot his father had fashioned. Fish scooted away from him in his descent until he finally felt the weight lighten. He had reached the bottom.

He glanced upwards seeing a swirling rainbow of colors coming from what dim light reached him. His little lungs began to burn terribly as the seconds passed. He felt his vision fading as he freed his last breath. Death's images seemed to loom around him. He slowly gave into its icy clutch, allowing the lake water to fill his lungs. He reached out to touch the blood laced sickle of death.

Mirein’s eyes shot open, as he sat up gasping for air, completely drenched in sweat. He breathed heavily and held his head. His hair was completely soaked as droplets fell from his long dark brown strands, creating streams on his face and broad naked shoulders. The dream's effects were fading quickly as he became more aware.

He was nowhere near water. He was in his hut. He was on his bed.

He was safe.

He looked around, his chestnut colored eyes adjusting to the dim pre-dawn light trickling in through the opened window. His breath slowed gradually as the memory still flashed vividly through his mind. The images of his father flickered, the evil and loving man he’d known for so long. That was a long, long, long time ago but the pain still clung to him like a burr.

A small snore interrupted his train of thought as he further sank into reality. He glanced to his side and saw his room-mate, Tolban. He was sound asleep. Almost nothing in the world could wake the light elf.

They both lay on a simple mat on the floor beside each other. It was warm enough this time of year that blankets were unnecessary for sleeping.

"That dream," he whispered, the images would not leave his mind and neither would that voice. He sighed, this time musing in his mind, ‘that memory has plagued me a fortnight now...’

For a long time he had eventually suppressed the pain to a bare minimum, the memories were ever present but he strode to move on. Over the past two weeks, though, it was more bothersome than normal.

A yawn crept over his features, making his eyes water, “Tarha damn it. It’s too early for this.”

He decided not to try and think about it anymore - it was time to focus on today's exam. He waited a moment, then, padded across the dirt floor to the washstand. He grabbed the dry pitcher, as well as an empty goat skin, and walked outside, still adorned only in his loose white pants that were tied at his hips. He stretched, snapping and popping his shoulders and back. He peered out as the sleepy village slowly awakened.

A few people were awake this time of morning, but they were probably the watchmen returning from their guard duty for the night. He made his way over to the village's well and drew water using the bucket right beside it. First he splashed himself of the sweat, then, poured some water into the pitcher. The water around here was first come, first served. There was a slow spring in the well, which dried up by midday simply from overuse. It replenished itself daily, but one had to get up early to get the good clear water rather than the muddier water one would get as the water was close to drying up.

After filling up the goatskin second, he made his way back to the hut he called home. He pulled the curtain that acted as the front door and set to morning chores. He placed the pitcher at the washstand for Tolban, whenever he would wake up and hung the goatskin over the old fire pit. Around this time of year, it acted as a showering spot since it got so hot. The depression where the water collected could also be used to soak ones feet after a long day.

For wintertime's sake the sleeping mats were near the fire pit. Close, that they were also handy for a morning wake up call. He aimed the goatskin cap at Tolban and fired a small stream his way, just enough to awaken him - with a jolt, of course.

"I don't like it pickled!" Tolban shook himself awake after the face full of water.

Tolban sat up, wiping his face and after a second of blinking, glared up at the accused, "Mirein! That was not funny." His long dark blond hair clung to his face as he rubbed his hazy green eyes.

The older elf only laughed, "Serves you right for staying up late."

"I was studying-"

"-Herring?" Mirein cut him off with a smirk.

Tolban sat for a second, almost tilting his head in confusion, "I'm not going to ask."

The sleepy haze was not lifting one bit, in fact he yawned and closed his eyes, falling asleep on the spot.

Mirein shook his head, deciding to give him another hour. Tolban fell back into place on cue. He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. The younger elf loved to sleep for some reason, where as he was the opposite.

Mirein loved the night. He was a dark elf, so it made sense. Although that was only one of many reasons he didn’t sleep as much as Tolban. His nightmarish past was one of them.

Mirein snatched a book from the corners and sat on his mat. It was time to study, to hit the books hard if he were to pass his magic exam.

The image of his father’s face flashed in and out of existence. Memories began popping up left and right. It was as if that one memory caused a chain reaction.

He finally set the book down and rubbed his forehead, this was beginning to get frustrating. It was going to be a very long day.