There is a glade in the woods where I used to play as a child. Up in the hills behind Aldburg, where I was told never to venture. On the other side of walls that I should never have been able to climb.
I was nine when Ash left. I had returned home from my tutoring in Fenmarch to find my parents sitting at the dinner table, father in a fresh shirt, mother with tear-soaked eyes. I was sat down, my meal just begun when they broke the news. I could feel something was… off. Something in his eyes, when he uttered those words.
“She’s dead.”
It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t… right. But the tears that began to stream down my face, those were real. I stumbled to the washroom, and somewhere through my sobs I became aware of the blood-stained shirt sitting crumpled in the washtub. And the tears stopped. The sobbing stopped. Horror swept over me. I couldn’t scream; I could barely breathe, the air suddenly thick enough to choke me as I gasped in shock.
I escaped through the window. Climbed the walls to the guard post. I don’t remember how; the breathless fog morphed into a blind urge to leave the city, to get back to the glade. Our glade. The one place we knew we had just to ourselves.
But this time, I was alone. For the first time, there was no comforting presence to greet me, only the cold whistling of wind through the grass. The tears fell again. I felt myself shaking, unable to control the tremors wracking my frame.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a cloth half-buried in the dirt and leaves at the base of one of the large boulders. I scrambled to dig it free, my fingers numb and unwieldy as I clawed at the dirt. As I fumbled with the cloth it unraveled, revealing a letter folded around a necklace Ash always wore.
As I read it, tears fell anew. It was too much to bear, so deeply overwhelming I did not even notice the eyes gazing upon me. An elven huntress stood still, watching as my muffled sobs drowned in the rain. Her golden hair lay loose across her shoulders, her burgundy armor blending into the autumn leaves around her, and gleaming swords were strapped to her back next to her bow. Her hand rested gently on my shoulder, and I turned, finding unexpected comfort in her ancient, delicate embrace.
Not long ago, I happened once again upon the glade, its familiar beauty besmirched by the remains of a goblin camp hastily and imperfectly cleared. I found myself kneeling on the ground, gazing with a smile on an elven dagger as I drew it from its sheath, one of a pair received as gifts from my friend. She had been the greatest of mentors, and I would never have found my sister without. As I gazed at the dagger’s blade, a flash of gold reflected in its shine. I glanced behind me; nothing. Back to the blade, and the glimpse steadied into the outline of a hilt. Again, I turned behind me, yet there was nothing. Looking back in earnest at the dagger I angled the blade till I saw the clear reflection of a sword. Guided by the reflection, I approached a tree where a branch hung low, its leaves brushing against my shoulders. I reached out carefully, and the sword appeared, lashed tightly to the branch. I shook my head, a small chuckle welling in my throat as I untied the bindings. The scabbard slid smoothly from the blade, and a carefully folded note dropped to the ground. I stooped to pick it up, awed by the Rohirric lettering, which had a sophisticated quality unlike any I had ever seen.
“Dear Carria, I hope all is well with you. I heard on the wind that you have finally found your sister, and that you are happy. If you are reading this, then you must have returned to Calenardhon. I hope that the reason for your visit is positive, but I would be remiss if I did not remind you of the pain that lies in wait for you here. Return to where you belong. Take this sword. May it be a reminder to keep your path just, and your actions righteous. Remember what I have taught you, and the fine line those skills will make you walk.”
Despite the lack of signature, there was no doubt who had written it. With a smile, I attached the sword to my belt beside its matching daggers. I would be leaving Aldburg, very soon.
((Co-written with the player of Evaelynne))
