Chapter 8

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The next morning, Elena contentedly drifted in the current of an especially deep and calm part of the river, which was still freezing cold and took forever to bear getting submerged into. Shivering, she waved at Lysander, who was sitting on a grassy ridge on the water’s edge, carving a pointed stone into a sharp arrowhead. Upon the threat of yesterday’s unwelcome visit, his entire attention had become devoted to the making of arrows.

“Sure you don’t want to join in, Lys?” she asked for the third time.

“I am quite comfortable here,” Lysander called back, pensively chiseling away.

Every so often in her conversations with him, she would doubt herself, her own eyes. It was purely an unreal notion to be holding a conversation with a mythical creature. Had she truly caught her grandfather’s insanity disease? Or could everyone else just not see what her grandfather saw?

Elena floated around, but soon grew bored of it, and simply sat on the river’s edge with the statuesque Elf. She closed her eyes and pointed her nose up at the sun, letting it warm her face and dry her wet body. There wasn’t a snowflake in sight on this surprisingly warm day.

“So, what was Sebastian anyway?” Elena asked curiously. “I mean, he had a tail!”

“When Elves grow dark in heart,” he explained in his smooth voice. “It shows upon their outward appearance. If I were downhearted and vengeful, I would look the same.”

“You called him a ‘Dark One’… What’s that?”

“You ask for another history lesson?” Lysander smiled. Elena peeked open an eye to give him a sideways glance.

“I'll stay awake this time, I promise,” she assured him. “Answer the question.”

“Dark Ones were once Elves, but their hearts became corrupt long ago when the Old Wars were still prominent. The deceiver Fjorn captured many Elves and tortured and mangled us until we were brainwashed into becoming his soldiers. The real Dark Ones resemble demons. Ugly, monstrous creatures, that couldn’t be even compared to my kin.”

“Sebby didn’t seem that bad to me,” Elena admitted, which sparked Lysander to jerk his head in her direction. She could feel his gaze, though she kept her eyes closed. She grinned meekly to provide a buffer to her confessions.

“Well,” Lysander went on firmly. “Sebastian is in the very early stages of Dark conversion, and he has not been tortured or defiled. His Elven side lingers.”

“He looked like you?”

“Yes, very much so,” Lysander confirmed. “We were once close friends. Even brothers, you would say.”

“What happened?”

Lysander grew silent again. Elena waited a while for an answer that didn’t come. She began to assume her own conclusions.

“That woman you said you loved… Did he love her too?”

“Yes,” Lysander confirmed. “More than me, I realize, now that I am discovering the extent of what love can really feel like. I cared for her, yes, but in a way that bore me no excitement or pleasure. I was told I had to choose her as a mate, and it felt as if I was adopting her into my family, rather than a joyous union of souls. She was one I always saw as one of my closest friends… to mate her seemed an awkward task.”

“I know what you mean,” Elena nodded, staring off into the rippling waters of the creek.

His eyes met hers, and they shared a moment with their eyes locked. Elena couldn't help but stare sometimes, to study what she knew so little about. He seemed to feel the same about her, so it was an even trade.

“I very much wish I could mate thee instead,” Lysander admitted, squinting closely at her for any and all reactions she had. Elena drew back, utterly surprised and bewildered.

“How can you say that so easily?” Elena shook her head in disbelief, giving Lysander a strange look. “We’ve known each other for maybe three weeks and already you’re asking me to marry you?”

“I can already sense thou feels for me in the same manner that I feel for you, so there is no further need for hesitance,” Lysander shrugged.

“Oh, of course, Mr. Mind-Reader is extremely self-assured. You forget, I’m only human. I don’t know if you really have feelings for me or if you’re just trying to get into my pants.”

“But you are not wearing pants,” Lysander was the one bewildered now. “You are wearing your water clothes.”

“It’s an expression. It means, your just trying to have… you know… to sleep with me. To have sex.”

“I see,” Lysander nodded. “Yes, I would very much like to ‘get into thy pants’ as well. But not without permission first, of course.”

Elena laughed loudly. Again, she marveled at his ease at revealing things of himself that anyone else would find embarrassing to admit.

Lysander grabbed her by the hand and faced her directly, his eyes flaring in an excitement that she hadn’t seen before.

“When Sebastian had you in his clutches, the jealousy I felt… it was immeasurable. It was then I realized, it would be foolish of me to risk one more moment not claiming you as my own.”

Elena grew suddenly offended, throwing his hand off hers and jumping to her feet in anger.

“What is with every man trying to stake a flag on my head like I’m some piece of territory? I’m not property! I’m a big girl-- I make my own choices!”

“I insulted you again. I apologize. I just wished you to know of my intentions, so that you could make an informed decision about being with me.”

“Consider me warned,” Elena said, grabbing her things and heading for home. “And as for being with you… I’m going home now.”

Lysander jumped to his feet, a look of intense sorrow coming across his features.

“Wait!”

Elena was compelled to stop, by some power, and turned back to hear one final reason for her not to leave him behind.

“I ask your forgiveness, nay, I beg it. I will not allude to such a notion again, if it pleases you. Allow me to find favor in you again, by letting you see what no other human, save for your grandfather, has seen.”

Elena was wary, looking at Lysander with suspicion. Lysander reached out his hand to her, and waited.

“You cannot hide that your curiosity outweighs your anger.”

“But my pride outweighs my curiosity,” Elena snapped back, and went on her way. He didn’t try to stop her again.

-

For the next few days, Lysander didn’t visit. She didn’t see him at all. Elena missed him like a famine missed rain, within the first twenty-four hours. Suddenly, the forest seemed so empty. The house, so bare and lonely. She almost wished she had never met him, for the hole she now felt within her.

Then, on the morning of the third day, she found a purple flower in her porch. Quite literally, growing out of the cracks between the planks of wood. The slight breeze made it wiggle back and forth, as if waving in greeting to her. Her heart soared in relief, brightening her face into a large smile.

It was a strange thing, to love an Elf.

-

I know this chap was a bit short, but its only because the next one is very long. Please review.
Signed,
--RedRogue55