Archives: The Golden Egg
Chapter 24: Seeking her Roots
The two mercenaries had arrived in the Mirror Forest the day before; though the pair weren’t exactly ‘mercenaries’ professionally. They had been hired by a rather desperate high elf in search of the common elf father of her child, and after a long, and surprisingly exciting journey from Raiden to the Mirror Forest, their services were no longer required. Seri, the high elf, had sold her elven steel rapier in one of the cities they passed through to make enough gold to pay her hired guards, and Kitsa and Orion were both sitting on an ample payment of three Raidens, or three-hundred gold.
Kitsa, the exotic quarter-elf from the Azarns, had only arrived in Raiden the day she set out with Seri. Her original intentions on coming to Lodoss were not to become a mercenary, but to find vestiges of her heritage and learn of her father’s past. Her father, Aiden Silvermoon, had lived a long life of over five hundred years, and Kitsa had hoped to find his descendants from his human wife, and possibly even meet her grandmother, a common elf in the Glassy Woods. Before her father’s death, he had recorded his history in a collection of journals which Kitsa brought with her. When she learned that they would be stopping in the Mirror Forest, she requested to be released from Seri’s service, and convinced Orion to join her. As Seri really no longer had a need for rangers, she let anyone who wanted to leave go, as she expected the journey home to be easy.
Kitsa’s reasoning was that this forest had been mentioned in her father’s journal; the Mirror Forest was where her sword—originally her father’s sword—had been forged and given to him as a gift from a lover he had once, a common elf named Anaiya. Before beginning to ask about Anaiya, Kitsa and Orion had decided to rest so Kitsa could research her father’s journal once more, and they could both rest up after the long journey they had just been on. With Seri’s good word, they had been offered rooms in the home of a local elf named Mysa, whose daughter was away from home, thus leaving a spare room aside from another room she had for guests, as the common elf had quite an extended family.
As morning came, Kitsa dove into the handwritten journal her father had so painstakingly written in his final years. The quarter-elf laid on her belly in bed, reading in the morning light. She had become so involved in her reading that she ignored the grumblings of her stomach and the passage of time as the morning grew close to noon.
* * *
It had not taken much for Orion to leave Seri’s service. Kitsa had more than dominated his mind since the two had met and the prospect of the two of them traveling brought back fond memories of his last partnering. And though that connection was betrayed, Orion had come to terms with that. It hurt. The memory still hurt. But solitude was something he had in multitudes and ne’er did it have the warmth that Kitsa’s presence brought.
Upon payment, they had gathered their things and took to the Mirror Forest, another place Orion wholly unfamiliar to the elf as he had spent most of his life in the lands of humans. The question of why was something he had never considered until it was blatant, sleeping in a nice home, clear of the urban grime he had grown accustomed to. Orion never maintained connections to the elven race, never got involved. The idea that he was a member of it, strangely enough, was never in him. At least, not until he lived with them.
When the dawn rose, so did Orion. Kitsa still slept, wrapped tightly underneath a quilt sewn by Mysa herself. Ever the stealthy one, he slipped away from her gently, leaving her sleeping without a sign of his disappearance save the loss of heat. Each step was silent, a testament to his skill as a ranger, as he went to a work of his own.
“Is she still sleeping?” Mysa whispered, coming into the kitchen.
Orion shook his head. On the table, a plate had been prepared with bread, cheese, fruit, and a bowl of porridge to the side. “My apologies if I used too much.”
“You didn’t have to do this... And where did you get these?” she asked, picking up a few raspberries still wet from the morning dew.
“There is a bush down the way. I noticed it as we arrived.” Orion’s eyes never left his current task. In front of him lay another plate, organized in a similar fashion. The difference was not in the food, though it was most certain he was more careful in picking which berries went on this plate. It was in the lily that sat on the edge, certainly the most vivid to ever grow. A keen elf could sense how the spirits danced around it, joyful in its beauty. A strong enough shaman could call the spirits to breathe life into plants that might otherwise die. Orion had learned this quickly, always reverent of the life around him.
“Here I thought I’d get up early and make you something...” Mysa said. Slipping closer to her guest, she peered at what he had made. “Ohh...” she giggled a little and blushed. “Now I see...”
A light tap at the door announced Orion. “May I come in?”
Hearing a knock at the door and Orion on the other side, Kitsa perked up. “You may!” she called back enthusiastically with no sign of sleepiness in her voice. She didn’t rise from her position on the bed, but she looked over her shoulder, waiting for Orion to enter.
With the breakfast tray tucked between his hip and his arm, Orion unlatched the door to the guest room they shared. He could feel the heat from the porridge he had made, its steam clinging to the underarm of his coat. Pushing it gently open, the ranger took Kitsa’s breakfast back into two hands. “I thought you might be hungry,” Orion said, moving carefully to the side of the bed. The smell of honey and chamomile followed closely behind.
The bowl of porridge sat in the center of the tray, surrounded by cheese, raspberries, two slices of sweet bread, and a cup of tea. But, laid across the front, was perhaps the best present: a single, perfect lily. A fiery red burned at its center, stretching across its pedals into a mixture of vivid purples and languid blues. Caught in the light, it was almost bright enough to have a glow all its own. Orion settled the tray before her, watchful of the possibility that anything should tip or shift.
Kitsa’s eyes widened at the meticulously prepared breakfast Orion brought, but her gaze fell on the gorgeous lily; so beautiful it took her breath away. Taking her father’s journal and turning it upside down on her pillow to save her place, Kitsa rose up on her knees. “Orion, it is beautiful,” she said. “You are too sweet,” she added with a small smile.
Orion placed his hand around hers, wrapping her fingers tightly around the stem. His eyes were serious. “Look closely at it,” he said. As her eyes strayed deeper into its pedals, the tiny figure of a spirit danced along its colors, almost invisible. There was a innocent joy, an effervescence of love, to that playful spirit that, by all rights should have long left a picked flower.
“Never will this flower fade,” he explained. “Even without its roots, it shall stay in perfect bloom. It shall live as long as we live.” His soft eyes returning to Kitsa’s, he continued. “I have no riches, no name or worldly good to offer you, but I do have myself and this flower. And what I have, I wish to give to you.”
Kitsa stared down at the flower, her words washed away in the tide of his affections. She was overwhelmed by it all, it flooded her senses, but she was invigorated. Perhaps some would be intimidated by this passionate declaration, and maybe that’s why Kiro had left him, but Kitsa was willing to brave the flood and immerse herself. The quarter-elf rose up on her knees and leaned into Orion, throwing her arms around his shoulders while she still held the precious gift. “Orion...” she whispered, pressing her face against his neck. “You have a beautiful heart.” She paused, trying to find more words to respond to him, though she could think of nothing that held a candle to the things he just said. “I accept you, completely. I love you,” were the words she could finally find.
Orion was not sure how Kitsa would have taken such a plan. It was the only way he knew how to express himself and it worked exactly as he had imagined. Wrapping his own arms around his waist, he held her close, feeling the warmth, the beat of her heart, and the spirit that thrived within. It was right. Everything here was right. There was no question left, no doubts. “Thank you...” he whispered, though it was as much to the spirits, gods, whatever else that existed in the aether above him, as it was to her.
Tears had formed in Kitsa’s eyes as she absorbed it all, and she stayed where she was, holding onto him until her knees began to complain of being knelt upon on the bed. Only then did Kitsa draw back, kiss Orion’s lips gently, then sit back down. Glancing at the breakfast he brought she didn’t know if she could even eat; she was so giddy her stomach didn’t seem to realize that it was empty. The quarter-elf looked at his gift again and sighed contently, but she was still at a loss of words. She sniffled slightly, but there was an irrepressible smile on her face.
* * *
After enjoying each other’s company and eating breakfast, Kitsa spoke to Mysa about Anaiya, and learned that she still lived in the forest. In the time since her father’s departure from the Mirror Forest, Kitsa had learned that the forest was nearly lost during the War of the Demon God, and many elves died. Anaiya was apparently one of the survivors. With the location of her home, Kitsa and Orion departed.
After crossing the village, they arrived at another tree house that fit the location Mysa described. Kitsa led the way up the stairs spiraling around the broad tree trunk. As she stepped up onto the porch, she knocked on the door, a bit hesitantly, and waited for an answer.
Momentarily, the door opened to reveal a beautiful elven woman—at least, as beautiful as most elves—with long, pale blonde hair and blue eyes. “Can I help you?” she asked, eying the strange looking visitors.
“I am seeking a woman named Anaiya... are you she?” Kitsa asked.
“Yes, I am,” Anaiya replied, her brow furrowed. She seemed at first confused, why would such strange looking outsiders want to speak to her? She was no expert in anything. However, concern soon brewed in her eyes. “Has something happened to my son?”
“I... I know nothing of your son,” Kitsa replied, caught off guard. A son? Possibly a brother? Kitsa thought with some excitement, but she kept it contained. It was possible that she could have married or taken another lover in the century since Aiden left her. “I came to speak with you of your past,” Kitsa explained, her voice dropping an octave or two.
“Of my past?” Anaiya inquired, her curiosity piqued. After a pause, in which Kitsa held back her questions as it seemed as if Anaiya were about to speak, the elf responded, “Is it about Aiden, the half-elf?”
“Yes!” Kitsa replied eagerly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “You see, Aiden is my father, and he told me about his past. I came to Lodoss to see—” Kitsa was suddenly cut off by Anaiya’s door slamming in her face.
Orion stood stoic, looking at the heavy portal as if his eyes could break straight through it. His brow furrowed, followed by a tightening of his lips. That wasn’t necessary. It was rude, uncommonly so for an elf. The fact that it was done to Kitsa was an increased weight. Unjustified. That’s what it was. One hand came up, clenched tightly in a fist, and knocked on the door again. Orion’s eyes glanced down to Kitsa for a moment, the displeasure a subtle disturbance on his gentle expression, before returning his determined stare to the door before him.
Kitsa was dumbfounded by the sudden and rude response to the mention of her father’s name. Did father hurt her that bad? Kitsa wondered as Orion knocked again. However, she remembered from her father’s journals that she was a passionate woman, and even needy, especially for an elf.
“Go away!” Anaiya shouted from the other side, her voice strained with emotion.
“I... I am sorry, I mean you no insult,” Kitsa called to the elf through the door. “If you would not like to speak with me, I will be on my way.” She paused for a response, but her ears only picked up a muffled sob. With a heavy sigh, Kitsa looked to Orion. “I suppose we should just leave,” she spoke, loud enough for Anaiya to hear, but she then leaned in and whispered, “Perhaps she only needs time to think.”
With that, Kitsa turned around and began to walk back down the winding wooden stairs. Hopefully Anaiya would speak to her, and if she didn’t, Kitsa would wait for a few more days before moving on. She couldn’t wait forever though. Anaiya mentioned a son, who apparently was not in the forest, and Kitsa couldn’t help but wonder about him. What if he was her brother? Perhaps she should ask around the village a bit if Anaiya wouldn’t speak to her.
A part of him didn’t care for her crying. It was small, but solid, angered by her rudeness. But his face did not show this. Instead, he stood at the door, listening to her and Kitsa. Need this woman harm others with her own pain like this? It was Kitsa’s decision to go, which he accepted. He turned to go, but lingered for a moment longer, looking at this door, before turning to join her. A part of him wanted to go in silently, bring her face to face with Kitsa. A part of him, though, just wanted to leave. So he gave into the part. He took Kitsa’s hand in his, hoping it would support enough.
Feeling Orion’s hand take hers, Kitsa glanced back to give him a small smile. She was frustrated by the woman, but she still managed to maintain her eagerness. She wouldn’t allow Anaiya’s misery to ruin a day that started out so beautifully.
However, before they completed one spiral arc of the stairs, the sound of Anaiya’s door opening could be heard overhead and the elf’s footsteps on her deck. “Wait!” she called, then sniffed. “I’ll talk to you.”
It came sooner than Kitsa expected, and she glanced back toward Orion again, this time with an arched eyebrow of curiosity and surprise. “That did not take long,” she said softly to him, the turned around and slipped by him on the stairs, brushing her body against him due to the close quarters. She hurried back up the stairs to meet the elven woman, now with red-rimmed eyes and wiping under her eyes delicately with her sleeves.
“I’m sorry,” Anaiya said. “I suppose I should not let the sins of the father weigh upon the daughter, hmm? Come inside, I’ll speak to you,” she explained to Kitsa, then turned around and stepped back into her home.
Kitsa hurried up the rest of the stairs and eagerly stepped inside the elven woman’s modest little home. It showed the signs of a child growing up there; a few old toys collecting dust on the shelves, two bedrooms. Anaiya motioned to a bench seat in the main room for Kitsa and Orion to sit on, and without question, Kitsa took a seat.
Orion did not sit. The moment made him more anxious, the only expression of which was for him to choose standing instead. His face was placid, a rock solid mask of stoicism. Perhaps it made him a bit more intimidating, or far more rude in appearance, but it was a comfort for him to remain that way. “If you wish,” Orion said quietly, to both of them, “I can wait outside.”
“I... Alright, if that is what you wish,” Kitsa replied to Orion. She wouldn’t have minded his presence, but she didn’t feel she needed to rely on his support either. She knew Orion was not the most sociable of individuals, and she had pushed him enough.
Anaiya turned back to the two, now carrying a wood tray with a quickly gathered snack; a pitcher of some drink or another, and a few fruits and a small loaf of elven lamhirh bread. “Please, have a seat,” Anaiya insisted to Orion. “I don’t mind.”
Orion only wished to convey the idea that they might desire privacy. After all, he had nothing to do with their family. But, at the woman’s insistence, he took a seat. He was determined not to interrupt anything during their conversation.
Anaiya set the tray down on a low table in front of the bench, then sat in a wicker chair across from them. With a sigh, she sat back and folded her hands in her lap. “Again, I’m sorry for my rudeness,” she said. Looking at Kitsa, her face clearly read that she was holding back an emotional outburst. “So...you’re Aiden’s daughter? Well... how old are you?” the elf asked, obviously the first of many questions she was trying to order.
Kitsa picked up on Anaiya’s emotional state, so she hoped she could keep her explanations from causing her too much stress. “I am one hundred and ten years old,” Kitsa replied.
“Tch,” Anaiya scoffed, glancing aside to avoid Kitsa’s eyes. “Only fourteen years younger than my Aiden.”
“Excuse me?” Kitsa asked, her brows furrowed. She was quite confused by the statement, certainly that wasn’t her father.
“Oh, I’m sorry... my son, Aiden. He was fathered by Aiden...Aiden the elder, I suppose, your father,” Anaiya explained, almost choking on ‘your father’. She didn’t give Kitsa a chance to enjoy the knowledge of having a brother before she continued. “Where is Aiden now, your father? Run off, I suppose?” Anaiya questioned again, the anger rising in her tone.
“No, madam,” Kitsa replied. “My father has passed away last year.”
The anger drained from Anaiya’s face. “Oh,” she said softly. “Then...he stayed with you and...your mother...”
“Yes, he married my mother, and they were married for twenty-five years before she passed away. A plague claimed her,” Kitsa explained. Speaking with this woman was like walking on eggshells, nearly every thing she said evoked an emotional response. The elves she had met so far were nowhere near this emotional, not even Seri who actually was carrying a child fathered by a wandering philanderer. As she thought back to Seri, she made a connection between Anaiya seeing her father as a man like Azala, and Kitsa was felt insulted. She knew her father well, and while he may not have been the most chaste man, he was a man with a gentle heart, which had been broken before, and she knew that in the time between meeting Anaiya and her mother that it had not been easy for him. All he wanted was love that could last to the last of his days. The only reason he so readily settled down with Zehia was because he knew his life was coming to an end, though unfortunately she died young and he lived fifty years longer than he anticipated.
Tears began to well up in Anaiya’s eyes. “’Til death did they part,” she whispered. The elf sniffed. “Was I not good enough to spend his life with?” she whimpered, and began to weep openly. “I bore him a son, if he had come back, we could have been happy together! I would have made it work! Instead he had to go run off with some human trollop in a Falis forsaken land thousands of miles away.”
So rare was it that Kitsa became truly angry, and this was one of those rare moments. Standing up with a stomp of her foot, Kitsa bristled with rage. “I am not surprised he left you,” Kitsa said with a growl. “You are an emotional shipwreck! He left you because he could not tolerate you, because he could not breath with your claws in his flesh. I pity my brother, to have been raised by such a...such a shrew! If my father indeed knew of your son, he would have stolen him away from you and raised him himself!” With a swirl of her red skirts, Kitsa swung about and stormed toward the door.
Orion could not muster what could be deemed an appropriate response to what came before him. Was either side even wrong? Why he expected tea and a quiet stroll down memory lane was beyond him. This explosion was something he should have seen coming, perhaps tried to halt or something. But off Kitsa went, her skirts as red as her face, he was certain. Orion rose swiftly, uncertain of whether to follow Kitsa or wait or...
“I’m sorry,” Orion offered to the woman, though he did not specify what. He hoped it covered everything, her pain, both now and then, her loss, Kitsa’s explosion, her lonely life. Orion glanced back towards the door as Kitsa headed there. “Excuse me. Thank you...” It was difficult for him to keep his composure, so he gave up as it fell apart and rushed after Kitsa.
Kitsa hurried down the winding stairs, still seething in anger at Anaiya. She could take the woman’s emotional instability up until she decided to misjudge her father and insult her mother. Aiden may not have been the most chaste man, but he was nothing like Azala. Anaiya knew nothing of what he had been through, about the heartache he bore. She never knew how much he wanted a stable family, and obviously, Anaiya was by no means stable. What could Aiden have seen in her in the first place? Kitsa wanted nothing more to do with the woman. However, there was still the question of her son, apparently named after their father. Perhaps she could learn more from the other elves so she wouldn’t have to speak with that intolerable woman again.
“Kitsa?” Orion called, still many paces behind her, as he attempted to catch up. The Mirror Forest was not a place he knew well, so losing her was a logistical problem at the very least. “Please, Kitsa, wait...”
With a sigh, Kitsa stopped between steps and glanced back at Orion. She didn’t want him to think she was upset with him in any way, so she bit back any snapping comments and took a deep breath before responding to him. Anaiya was the target of her anger, she couldn’t bear the guilt of unleashing it on Orion. “I am sorry,” she said to him. “I cannot tolerate that woman any longer.”
Orion nodded. “I understand.” Normally, had it been a youth of elven descent, he might have considered chastising her. It was an overreaction. Orion knew well the proprieties of the elves and held himself to their high standards. But Kitsa was not a youth; she knew her limits. While she was brash, her life was her own to do as she pleased. And he never expected her to be as he was—for better or for worse. “I don’t blame you.” Orion just hoped that this incident would not mean overstaying what little welcome they had managed to scrape up.
Kitsa continued walking, now at an easier pace. Her rage had faded, but the wound Anaiya left still ached. “My father wrote that she was rather emotional for an elf, and at first, he was attracted to her passion. He wanted to marry her,” she began to explain. “But, over time, she became possessive and tried to control him. My father wanted to leave the forest, but she was afraid of the outside world. As she tried to limit his freedom, he broke away from her and left the Mirror Forest for good. He always told me that elves were more guarded with their emotions, and I assumed that after over a hundred that she would have recovered. I was mistaken.”
The quarter-elf hopped to the ground after the final step. “I want to get my sword,” she said and started walking toward Mysa’s home again. A moment after she spoke, she realized that the comment could be taken badly. “To take it to the smith here,” she explained as she walked on. “Anaiya had it forged for my father. If I cannot speak to Anaiya, then perhaps I should speak to others. And I should ask Mysa about her son—my brother.”
Orion froze at how chipper she was about getting her sword so soon after that. He cracked a smile when she explained. “Very well,” he replied. “I owe her my thanks for her kitchen.”
A small smile tugged up the corner of Kitsa’s lips, though her expression still seemed to reveal lingering frustration with Anaiya. The quarter-elf sidled up to Orion though and slipped her arm around his. “To Mysa’s home then,” she said.
* * *
Crossing the village in a direct path to the ranger Mysa’s treehouse, Kitsa and Orion soon arrived to a much more cordial elven face. Mysa was a rather short elven woman, but there was a confidence and strength about her, considering her occupation. Her golden blonde hair was long, but she wore it tied back in a ponytail, and in her off-time, she dressed in a comfortable elven skirt and a short top that revealed her toned stomach and trim waistline. She had been tidying up her home after breakfast, and they found her putting her dishes away in the main room of her house.
“Welcome back,” she greeted the pair with a smile. “Did Anaiya cause you much trouble?” Her blue eyes seemed to have a knowing glimmer in them, revealing that she wasn’t too surprised.
With the bit of sympathy Mysa offered, Kitsa sighed, releasing herself of some of the remaining burden of discomfort. “I am afraid so,” Kitsa replied.
“Ah, yeah, she always has been pretty sensitive,” Mysa replied. “Have a seat you two. You never did tell me why you wanted to see her.” The common elf slipped the last dish, the tray Orion used earlier, back into her cupboard as she spoke.
Kitsa took Mysa’s offer and sat down at her table, she would wait to see the smith if Mysa wanted to speak to her further. After all, she could get some information from the ranger, but it was more the comfort of another person that she needed to validate her anger. So rare was it that someone upset her as much as Anaiya did...
Orion was swift to do his duty and pushed in Kitsa’s chair as she sat, but it was not simply a kindness to Kitsa. He did the same for Mysa as she came to the table. Orion was not a simple romantic; he held a nobility, a standard always to be met with humility. If Mysa had not finished putting her dishes away, he would have moved to do that for her. Perhaps it was simply fuss and pomp, but the elven man believed in the principle of it to the core. Once the ladies were seated, only then did he take one. While Orion was indeed versed in various forms of politesse, it flowed naturally from him and never felt anything but genuine.
Mysa chuckled as she took note of Orion’s politeness. She was used to taking care of herself and such polite gestures made her uncomfortable—in fact, she hadn’t been treated so delicately since her short-lived affair with Kal, Katela’s father. “Are you always such a busy man?” she asked the elf rhetorically, then turned her attention back to Kitsa.
Kitsa was a little awkward in revealing her father’s history, and instead of meeting Mysa’s eyes, she studied her hands on the table as she began. “My father, Aiden, was a half-elf who lived many, many years in Lodoss. Before his death, he left me a journal with some important tales of his history, and one such story was about a lover, Anaiya, here in the Mirror Forest. She had a sword forged for him, and he hoped to marry her, but they had troubles, and eventually he left. I came here to see Anaiya, and hopefully get to know her and her own tale about my father.”
“Hmm... I see,” Mysa responded. “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been close to her, but her personality tends to make her stand out in the community. She was always quite the passionate youth, and about a century ago, she was rumored to have a lover—some people said he was a human, some said half-elf, other said he was an elf from another forest—but eventually he seemed to stop calling on her, and we learned she was pregnant. When her child was born, he seemed purely elven, so we assumed she had another elven lover. And she named him Aiden... I suppose then, he must be your brother, as I don’t recall Anaiya ever becoming close to anyone after her mysterious partner.”
Kitsa’s heart fluttered. She expected as much, but to hear it spoken excited her. “What can you tell me about her son?” Kitsa pressed eagerly.
“Oh, he’s quite a charming young man, a ranger like myself. I say I may know him better than Anaiya, as I’ve given him a few lessons here and there while he was learning the trade. He tagged along with a girl named Naclia and her brother much of the time, well, until the war—Naclia was the only survivor of her family when the demons invaded the forest. Anaiya and Aiden took her in for a time, until she was able to build a home for herself,” Mysa explained. “I don’t think she could tolerate Anaiya any better than most. Aiden seems to have had the highest tolerance for her, but he was always trying to pull himself away at every opportunity.”
“Anaiya said something about him being away? Where is now?” Kitsa asked. Her heart was pounding now, she was so close to finding him!
“He left with Naclia a couple weeks ago, along with the Keeper’s daughter, Eliamn. I can’t say where they were heading, I suppose they’re just a bunch of kids looking to spread their wings. If you want to learn anything about the destination, you might want to speak to the Keeper’s family. I do know that Eliamn had attempted to make a contract with Ento and failed, which is quite shameful for her family, as their duty has been to tend to the Ancient Tree.”
Kitsa was a bit disenheartened by Mysa’s inability to give them more, but at least there was hope with this family of ‘Keepers’. If all else failed, perhaps she could simply ask around the village for what direction they may have gone in. “Where can I find Eliamn’s family?” she asked.
“They live near the heart of the forest, near the Ancient Tree,” Mysa replied.
Respectfully bowing her head to the ranger, Kitsa expressed her gratitude; “Thank you, Mysa. You have been very helpful and understanding. I greatly appreciate your hospitality.”
“As do I,” Orion said swiftly. “You have been more than kind. It is something I hope to repay someday.”
His mind was on the failed Keeper girl from the conversation. Of all the spirits, Ento was the one he always felt most connected to. Though he had never formed any official bond, Orion had taken solace in Ento’s wisdom and presence wherever he went. In such a place, Ento was everywhere. It was almost as though he could feel the king spirit’s breath from between each wind-blown leaf in the forest. While alone, Orion lived in reverence to Ento, as the spirits were his only companions. The pursuit of a contract was a complicated business, though, and it was not something he had ever considered trying to do. It smacked of harnessing the spirits to make oneself more powerful. For a Keeper, it was different, he was sure. But for himself, it was folly. He already had everything he wanted from the king spirits: harmony.
“We should perhaps drop off your sword on the way,” Orion suggested to Kitsa quietly.
Kitsa nodded to Orion, then slipped out of her seat, made a few more polite gestures to Mysa, and gathered her sword from her room. With the elven steel, she and Orion departed again with directions to the blacksmith.
* * *
Crossing the village again, this time in another direction, they came to one of the few ground structures; a building built of clay with a thatch roof and a chimney, the Mirror Forest’s blacksmith. The building was open, and inside an elven man was hammering a new sword. The smithy wasn’t too different from a human one, but there was a different feel to it.
Seeing two strangers approach, the blacksmith landed a few more hammer blows, then dumped the glowing blade into a barrel of liquid. The elf stood, wiping his hands on his canvas apron. Like most elves, he was an attractive man, quite the norm for his kind, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, though two locks on either side of his part had been separated and adorned with silver clips near the root and hung down below his ears, which they looped beneath and were tied into his ponytail. “Greetings,” he spoke. His eyes passed over Orion briefly, and though the common elf was quite fair, even for their kind, his attention was drawn to Kitsa, who had barely an elven trait to show. “How may I be of service?” he asked, placing himself in front of his forge, almost protectively.
Kitsa sensed the smith’s defensiveness, and she knew that the elven forging style was kept quite secretive. She would respect that. Besides, she already had a sword. The quarter-elf tucked back her hair, showing off the pointed tips of her ears, then leaned to the side and unfastened the sword, with scabbard, from her belt. “I have come to speak to you about this sword,” she said, offering the blade to him.
Curiously, the elven blacksmith took the offered blade and drew it slowly from the sheath, examining every inch of it, and then he gave it a practice swing. “This is my work,” he said, his brow furrowed. “How did you come across this blade?”
“My father bequeathed it to me on his deathbed,” Kitsa replied.
“Hmph, and where did he get it?” the blacksmith pressed with a patronizing tone.
“From Anaiya,” Kitsa replied. “He said that she had forged it for him as a gift.”
Then, the smith’s eyes lit with recognition. “Ahh...yes, I remember that. It has been refitted,” he commented, looking at the hilt.
Kitsa nodded and blushed slightly. “Yes, my father had it done before he died.”
“So your father was her mysterious lover... was he human?” the blacksmith asked.
“No sir, he was half-elf.”
“Hmm...yes, that was before the war. Half-elves were not looked upon too kindly then,” the blacksmith explained, then sheathed the blade. “Now, what is it you wish to know?” he asked as he turned around and entered the hut. He sat down at a bench across the room from the forge, resting the sheathed sword across his knees. Across from him was another bench, obviously where Kitsa and Orion could sit.
Kitsa stepped into the hut, taking a seat at the bench. She had already learned quite a bit from Mysa about her half-brother, so she wasn’t sure what more the smith could tell her, or why she was really here aside from saying ‘Hi there! I have a sword you made. Isn’t that interesting?’ However, she was here, so it was best she made use of the time. “I could not speak to Anaiya much, she seemed quite upset when I spoke of my father, but I did learn that she at least has a son, my half-brother, a boy named Aiden,” Kitsa explained.
“Yes, Aiden. I forged a sword for him many years ago,” the elf explained. “I believe he has left the forest in company of two other elves. Off to see the world, I suppose.”
“So I have heard,” Kitsa replied. “So, I take it you know little of his father?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Anaiya was quite secretive about him. Everyone knew she had a lover, but he snuck in and out so well that no one ever saw much of him. Most of us assumed that he was human, until Aiden was born. He appeared to be fully elven... so I suppose that’s what a half-elf and an elf make; another elf,” the blacksmith chuckled, then cleared his throat. “Excuse me. As I was saying, Anaiya told me nothing of him, she only came in one day, glowing with joy, and requested that I make an elven rapier and gave me a few specifics. I asked who it was for and she only told me it was a secret.” The elf glanced up toward the ceiling as he recalled events from a hundred and twenty-five years passed. “I do remember she sported a rather curious ring on a chain around her neck. It seemed quite heavy for elven design.”
Kitsa’s eyebrows raised slightly. She recalled her father mentioning that she had given Anaiya a gift of a ring, a remnant of his Kastuulian heritage. It had belonged to his father, Kayrin Silvermoon. With a touch vindictiveness, Kitsa thought, I should take it back... However, if Anaiya still had it, then she probably didn’t have the energy to deal with that woman again to take it. “I know of this ring. Does she still possess it?” Kitsa asked.
“Hmm...” the elf paused to think. “Actually, the last time I saw it, it was on Aiden’s finger.”
Kitsa immediately felt relieved. If her brother wore it, then perhaps she didn’t covet it. At least, unless he proved to be as intolerable as Anaiya. “I see,” Kitsa replied. “Do you know where Aiden has gone?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not. I’m not quite that privy to the comings and goings of the youth, unless they want a sword,” the blacksmith replied with a shrug.
Orion nodded quietly, listening in. But it seemed that the Blacksmith had little to share in what knowledge they truly needed. “I suppose there is but one place left to go,” he said, looking to Kitsa.
With a nod to Orion, Kitsa stood up. “Thank you very much,” she said to the blacksmith.
“You’re quite welcome,” he replied with a kind smile, then passed his sword to her. He had earned a very juicy bit of gossip. Soon enough, the entire forest would likely know the truth of Anaiya’s lover, and Aiden’s parentage.
Taking back her blade, she fastened it back onto her belt, then said her final goodbyes to the blacksmith, and headed out of the hut with Orion.
* * *
The Keeper’s home was near the heart of the forest, where the ancient tree stood, and thus, was not hard to find. Kitsa and Orion passed through the village, until they reached a tree house in a tall, old tree. Considering the size of the structure, it could rightfully be called a manor. Again, Kitsa and Orion climbed up winding staircases—leaving Kitsa with a good idea why elves had to always be in such fine shape—until they reached the door of the Keeper’s home. With a knock at the door, Kitsa waited patiently for a response.
It was less than a minute before an elven lad opened the door. Tall and lanky from adolescence, he had straight shoulder-length hair that was neatly parted to each side of his head and wore a long sleeved tunic that was so immaculately white that it looked silvery.
The elven youth blinked his eyes incredulously at the sight of Kitsa—but quickly recovered with a: “Merrymeetings. How might the household of the Keeper be of service?” The greeting, along with the nonchalant expression and the sleeved joined look, felt a bit rehearsed. To Orion’s eyes, the young elf couldn’t be much older than his seventies though he was making a big show of looking more mature.
As the young man opened the door, Kitsa found herself at a loss for words. How was she going to breech this issue? It had to be all rather quite odd, and perhaps even impolite. “Hello...” she said, pausing before she could find the right words to say. Introductions... that would work... “I am Kitsa, and my companion is Orion,” she started. “Is... is this the home of Eliamn?”
The elven youth nodded graciously to the greeting and answered: “Unfortunately, my elder sister is not home. Is there any way I could be of assistance to you in her place?”
“Well, we are actually trying to find where she went,” Kitsa replied, then quickly corrected, “Or more precisely, where she and her companions went. You see, I am looking for my half-brother, Aiden.”
The exotic quarter-elf looked at the young elf with pleading eyes, hoping that he didn’t take her inquiry to be offensive.
“I apologize. I know little more beyond that she left with companions to go on a pilgrimage across all of Lodoss.” The elven lad frowned thoughtfully. “It would be but conjecture, but I would think they would still be within the Kingdom of Moss.”
Kitsa’s anxious expression began to fall into disappointment at first, but once the elf mentioned Moss, the quarter-elf’s excitement picked back up. “Thank you so much!” she replied with a smile. At least they had a direction, and Eliamn’s family had been more helpful than she had anticipated, and in fact, aside from Anaiya, the elves of the Mirror Forest proved to be more accommodating than she had hoped. “We will be on the way to Moss, then,” she added, casting a smile back to Orion.
“Lady, if you do intend to trek after your half-brother’s company, might I beg an indulgence from the both of you?” The young elf asked coolly.
“Of course,” Kitsa responded to the elf, eagerly awaiting his request. She had intruded on his day, and she felt it was only polite to indulge him with any help she could provide.
A boyish grin broke the young elf’s mask of studied nonchalance. “Please remind my elder sister that her younger brother Kanil expects souvenirs once she comes back.”
Kitsa couldn’t help but laugh light-heartedly at the elf’s request. “Very well, I will tell her if we find them!” she replied. “Thank you for your help. You have at least pointed us in the right direction... I hope,” Kitsa said with a smile.
“It was my pleasure. Safe travels to you, then,” the younger elf—Kanil?—bade them before withdrawing back inside the house and gently closing the door.
With Kanil’s assistance, Kitsa and Orion had a direction in which to go. The next day, the could set out. Considering that it was midday by now, it was best to get an early start tomorrow. The two returned to Mysa’s home to make their preparations to leave the next day, and inform their host of their plans.
The knowledge of a direction, a place they could head, seemed to ease Kitsa’s mind, but it did nothing for Orion. He was an experienced tracker to a certain extent-- a direction was not truly enough. An entire kingdom was a grand place. The chances of finding them, especially as far ahead of Kitsa and himself as they were, were slim at best. Despite this, he would not crush Kitsa’s hopes. That would not do. Instead, he would do everything in his power to unite them, even if the odds were close to impossible. If he could muster the strength, he could call up the local spirits for trails, commune with gnome until they found her half-brother’s footsteps, or perhaps even attempt a larger ritualistic summon. They were steps to consider, for he never counted on the god of chance to provide for an elf.
The two returned to Mysa’s house with Moss’s border freshly in their sights. As Kitsa prepared for bed, Orion plotted out their path by candlelight. When she had settled, he joined her, held her until she fell asleep. Dreams would not come to him, but he was comforted nonetheless by her presence, something to give his life a purpose. For hours he remained this way, but the fatigue of the day eventually gave way to sleep.
