Revenge of the Elven

Chapter 10

Varrell opened the first page of her father’s journal to see simple diary entries; she had thought they would mainly be of his accomplishments and the various villains he had thwarted during his time as defender of Marrengate. To her surprise much of it was about her. He wrote rather joyfully all the little quirks Varrell had shown as a child and he expressed his pride in her as she progressed her training. He had taught her well that was true. As she flipped through the pages some memories were brought back to her and they came so vividly it was like she was back there again. She smiled as she remembered her father’s warm smile and kind eyes affectionately. She began to feel overwhelmed and closed the journal snapping it shut shaking her head. She could feel her heart racing and it ached as she thought of her kind, brave father and how he was killed so suddenly and right on their doorstep by an escaped collarless elf. She felt tears sting her eyes and she closed her eyes to squeeze them back refusing to let them fall. She looked to Kessa who had remained near and Kessa met her eyes.

“I cannot do it, I still cannot read his words, it is too painful,” Varrell said and Kessa smiled sympathetically.

“I understand, would you… perhaps face Arlan instead?” she asked, “he was devastated, he does not think before he speaks sometimes,”

“I know that I will see him,” Varrell stood and made her way back into the kitchen where Decan was pouring some after dinner wine for everyone. Varrell’s eyes met Arlan’s, he was clearly trying to hold her gaze like he refused to look away like he was forcing boldness. He seemed to draw in some strength before he approached her. He went to speak but she simply wrapped her arms around him and surprised him by pulling him into an embrace. He returned this by wrapping his arms around her.

“I am so sorry, Varrell,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know, and I know you are just worried about me, but I will be fine, I promise,” she whispered back.

“That is a promise you cannot keep, my friend,” he held her tighter.

“I will most certainly try,” she squeezed him back. Kessa stood next to Decan and smiled warmly holding her hands close to her heart feeling touched at their reconciliation. Varrell broke away and looked around at all her friends in her home right now. “I love you all so dearly, you are like family we have always had one another,”

“Have some wine, you soppy woman. What’s gotten into you?” Decan said smiling warmly as he handed her a goblet. She could see in his eyes that he was touched at her words, but it was in his nature to brush it off. Arlan and Kessa both smiled and they each took a goblet of wine and sat to enjoy the rest of the evening together.

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Taeril watched as his people all settled for sleep having taken up some of the blankets and comforts Varrell had kindly donated to them. He was leaning against a wall with his arms across his chest as they quietened for what would hopefully be the most restful night sleep they will have had in a long time. Yathalin approached him smiling warmly and handing him a blanket.

“You should get some rest too,” she said to him and she was right, he did feel exhaustion begin to take over his body. He gladly accepted her kind gesture. “If you need anything I am just through that tunnel, I have a small room back there, that is where I sleep.” She said and his lips curled into a slight smile before she disappeared in the direction she had pointed. Taeril took one last look around at his people satisfied that they were sleeping on full stomachs and with warmth. He settled himself into a corner and began drifting into a sleep of his own. It was not long before he began to dream but those dreams soon turned to nightmares; ones that often plagued him when he was lucky enough to find sleep. That sleep was never restful. The nightmares saw to that. In these nightmares he always saw the suffering of his people and he was unsure whether they were images of reality and scenes he had witnessed during childhood after being captured by the magic wielders or if they were simply nightmares. It was always the same thing and it always ended up with that dark entity he saw many years ago coming for him; the malicious entity whose eyes looked directly into his when he was just a small boy. He remembered it looked as though it wanted to come straight for him, but his father carried him away. That entity had plagued his sleeping hours ever since as though it was still coming for him like it had chosen him all those years ago; chosen him as its host as the one it would join with and as though it was still out there searching for him unwilling to accept another.