Two elves stand within a clearing, one adult and one child.
Nearby a river rushes with such a noise that would deafen any too close and above the very leaves of the trees within the great and vast forest in which these elves dwell, the sun shines upon the forest, each leaf reflecting the light of the sun as though many mirrors.
‘Grip the blade Neume,’ The elf demands- he is tall, his hair dark and almost wavy. ‘Yes, like that…’ He chuckles, her small arms are too weak to hold the blade.
‘Uncle… It is… Is too heavy!’ Neume protests. She looks up to her Uncle, dropping the sword to the ground and then turning to face him. Her eyes filled with stubbornness and conviction.
‘I thought you wished that you could be a swordsman, like me.’ He regards his Niece, smiling and nodding. So much of her mother seemed to exist within the child’s features, even her hair seemed to be just as dark, raven black.
‘I do! I do!’ Neume-Nenloth, jumps up and down on the spot, giggling and then jumping toward her uncle, leaping with all grace into the air.
‘Well then!’ He quickly moves his arms downward, reaching toward her, gripping her tightly within his embrace. ‘My my, you certainly get heavier by the day!’ Nyelecco proclaims and then he laughs, his laughter deep and yet filled with melody.
‘No Uncle, I think that you are simply getting weaker,’ Nenloth-Neume replies. She sighs, resting her head upon his shoulder.
‘I think we have practised enough for today…’ Nyelecco whispers, smoothing the child’s raven black hair with a hand, walking slowly through the forest.
‘Neume…’ An elf maiden, swiftly walks toward them, she carries a basket filled with herbs and flowers, also wearing white flowers within her flowing black locks. This elf maiden is of such beauty that Nyelecco must struggle not to gasp each and every time that he comes to look upon her.
‘Ah… Lindómien…’ Nyelecco’s mouth seems suddenly as though plagued with drought, the very heart within his chest feels as though to be gripped within an iron fist. ‘I had been…’ He notes that her hips sway almost hypnotically as she walks, her dress ever so slightly allowing him to glimpse the silhouette of the maiden’s figure beneath her dress.
The elf maiden, Lindómien frowns and breathing in deeply she sighs and then nods. ‘I trust that my daughter has not caused too much trouble for you brother…’ She emphasises the word ‘brother,’ her eyes reflect annoyance, her features a grim mask of knowing and foreboding.
‘She had wished to learn the art of the blade…’ He stops, seeing her features twist even more so into a mask of distaste, his mouth is now like a desert and his heart thirsts for her love.
‘My husband, your brother…. He has expressed to you a wish that she should not learn such things… She will be a healer. Not…’ She looks to Nyelecco, her eyes linger over his swords for a moment. ‘She is not to be like you.’
Those words are like an arrow to his heart.
‘I…’ He can say no more. Nenloth stirs within his arms, her round face looking up to him, her eyes filled with pain and concern. She grips his clothing and then buries her head into his shoulder once more, making a sort of strangled noise in opposition to her mother’s words.
‘Neume?’ Lindómien questions. Her eyes filled with concern. She can see that the bond between her child and Nyelecco is growing stronger. Perhaps too strong.
‘I will have her come with me, to gather more herbs. She would enjoy it.’ Lindómien states. Her heart thunders within her breast, fearful that Nyelecco will say something, do something… Something that would not be appropriate for a brother to do. She swallows, her features now sorrowful.
She can see the hurt within his eyes, the pain that her very presence causes him. But of course she loves his brother Tyulusson and not Nyelecco, despite the elf’s constant insistence that she return his feelings for her.
His presence is like a dagger within her heart, it twists and twists upon each meeting.
Neume moans, saying something almost inaudible.
‘Neume…?’ Lindómien steps forward concerned. ‘What hast thou been saying to Neume?’ She questions, anger wells within her. She knows that Nyelecco would do anything to capture her own heart, perhaps even use her daughter… His own Niece.
‘Nothing…’ He looks hurt. A silence fills the air for a moment. Nearby the bushes stir and from within the surrounding trees, Tyulusson appears. His smile, thin, almost a frown.
‘Brother…’ He nods, looking to his wife and then to his daughter. ‘What hast thou been doing in the woods this eve? Perhaps teaching Neume the art of killing?’ He questions, his voice filled with accusation.
‘What is this?’ Nyelecco questions. ‘Can I not teach Neume the craft passed down within our family? It is in our blood, as it is within Neume. I can feel it within her!’ He breathes deeply, his voice filled with conviction. ‘She will be a talented and most skilled wielder of the blade.’
Lindómien’s eyes burn into him like knives, digging into his skin. Had her gaze been but laden with knives, he would surely no longer live.
Tyulusson says nothing, the silence lengthens. He simply looks to his older brother, his eyes filled with amusement and also anger, those emotions clearly at war with each other.
Finally, after a short passing of time. ‘If you say so brother.’ Tyulusson chuckles and steps forward, ‘but we do have other plans for her and surely as she would be a great blade wielder, she would be a notable healer…’
‘I think that you would force your wishes upon her, brother…’ Nyelecco states, his face now a mask of determination.
‘I think that you overstep your bounds.’ Tyulusson growls, angered.
‘We should not fight with words of anger when Neume is within our midst…’ Lindómien states, concerned and then leaning down to place her basket upon the grass. ‘I will take her now, Tyulusson please bring herbs when you have finished arguing with your brother…’
She steps forward, arms reaching out for her daughter, her eyes pleading. Reluctantly, Nyelecco lifts his Niece from within his embrace and with a sad smile to Neume he places her within Lindómien’s arms.
‘Uncle…’ Neume protests, she sniffles sadly, her large grey and expressive eyes look to his.
‘Good eve…’ Lindómien turns without allowing him a goodbye and then walks as if to leave the clearing.
‘Lindómien… Wait…’ Nyelecco pleads, moving forward and then reaching out to touch her shoulder. Simply she shrugs him off and quickly Tyulusson grasps his hand, aggressively throwing his brother’s hand away from Lindomnien.
A moment passes, Lindómien gasps having turned to see her husband’s act of aggression. She knows Nyelecco to be easily angered and quick retaliate- his heart being filled with such fire that would consume them if it were to blaze out of control.
A flash of light, a sound of metal, a shocked gasp, a groan of pain.
Tyulusson had previously been staring at his brother but now he looked down to his own chest and to a deep cut, blood flows from within the wound.
Lindómien screams, frozen, now grasping her daughter so tightly that Neume should cry out in protest.
‘Lindómien…’ Nyelecco realises, but his concerns are not for his wounded brother. Only for the one that he loves, Lindómien. He reaches forward again, grasping at her arm. Lindómien tries to pull away, Tyulusson moves, quickly, to bar his way. A blink of an eye, two yells, a child’s scream of pain.
Within seconds, Lindómien and Neume lay sprawled upon the ground.
Nyelecco scowls at his brother. His concern for the maidens fades as his anger now focusses on his sibling.
Suddenly nothing else matters, for millennia his heart had lived within a vice. No longer… For millennia he had hated his brother… No longer, for his brother would now no longer be an obstacle… Not after this night… He grinned looking to the wound on his brother’s chest.
‘Kinslaying…? You really are every bit like our forefathers…’ Tyulusson hisses, his face twisting into a mask of disgust.
‘Give words to it if you like… Too long now have I watched you live with the maiden that should be mine… Too long have I allowed you to flaunt your…’ He screws up his nose, as though smelling some foul odour… ‘It will end today!’ He quickly and gracefully lunges forward, his healer of a brother tries to move away but Nyelecco is too fast. He catches his brother off guard and within moments Tyulusson falls to the ground.
‘Get up brother, I will do this with you standing.’ Nyelecco growls.
Despite this Tyulusson stares up at Nyelecco in disbelief, he clearly struggles for words. ‘I will make you stand!’ Nyelecco drops to his knees, his eyes aflame with anger, his heart burning as though within the heat of a thousand furnaces.
Tyulusson merely grunts as he is pulled by the wrist, almost to his feet. He does not struggle, he does not speak, his mind drowns within a pool confusion, his body refuses to move. He has never seen such anger within the heart of another of his kind, he had not known that his own brother had harboured such hatred for his own kin.
‘You will stand…’ Nyelecco growls.
‘What amiss here?’ A voice echoes, then almost noiselessly several elves step from within the now darkened trees that surround the fighting brothers.
Each of the elves wears light armour, bows at their backs and hoods to cover their heads, casting shadows upon their faces.
Nyelecco stares for a moment. ‘I…’ He looses his grip on his helpless brother, allowing Tyulusson to drop to the grass with a thud.
‘Nothing is amiss…’ Tyulusson states after a moment of shock, taking hold of his brother’s arm and then pulling himself upright. ‘I… I fell foul of my own foolishness… An accident’ His last words sound forced.
‘An accident?’ One of the armoured elves questions, an eyebrow raised. ‘Such… An odd injury to have sustained within an accident? How did your brother’s blade happen to accidently find it’s way to your chest?’
‘Ah…’ He pauses, but only for a few seconds. ‘He had been showing Neume how to fight with a sword.’ He motions to the tearful and rather frightened girl, now within the shadows. His heart sinks, he would hold her now, take her within his arms and show her that all is well.
‘An accident..’ He reaffirms, nodding to the elves.
‘Nyelecco is due to patrol with us this eve… Perhaps he will come with us.’ One the elves states, nodding to the now subdued Nyelecco. ‘Your lovely wife should escort you to a healer’ he pauses and smiles with amusement, ‘well, to your abode, where she might heal you and then perhaps calm your daughter.’ He nods to Nenloth, his smile sympathetic.
‘Yes… Perhaps that would be a good idea’ Tyulusson states, glowering at his now standing brother.
Nyelecco says nothing, he looks to Nenloth, his frown filled with concern and then he stalks into the darkness of the forest, the other elves following and leaving the family to their own devices.
