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The ten-year-old boy stood in the cold mist of dawn, his face marked with soot, his hands sticky from trying to stop the blood from coming out of his father's throat, but it just wouldn't stop. The night had been filled with flames, and screams and the heavy thump thump thump of horse hooves. His mother and sister's last cries as the timbers of their house fell in, like most of the other houses in the village, dark now and smoldering.
In the first light of the rising sun he could see the shining being, his armor like none he had ever seen before, glinting and all swoops and curves, a silver sliver of a sword across his knees as he sat on a bench by a fence. He beckoned to the boy and the boy stiffly, hesitantly came over to stand before him.
The boy, too numb from the night's horrors was struck at how this beautiful man with pointed ears had tears running down his face. He patted the bench beside him and Leaorin, for that was his name, obeyed and sat down.
"Do you see this mark, right hear on the side of the blade? Don't touch it! Right there, yes, that one. That was made at the Battle of Lost Crowns, probably before your grandfather was born. And this one here, do you see that nick by the guard? That was made over ten of your generations ago in a battle that claimed my own father. That is very important to you, did you know that?"
"For it was one of your ancestors that rose an ugly axe and clove my father where he stood outside his farmhouse when your kind came and took our lands. He had this sword because it had been gifted by a great lord for his great works of art, that stand in many a hall in Evermeet to this day. But his art could not save him from your kind."
"You noticed my tears I see. That is because your kind lives too short. I am saddened by that. Do you know why? Because, while the hurt of the loss of my father and others of my kind is still fresh in my breast, I can only remind your family by killing off some of them every 50 years. My sadness is that you don't remember the deeds. They are too far gone in your whisps of lives. But if I do this long enough, then perhaps you will remember."
"Yes! I can see I have left an impression. And I shall leave a mark this time. Now don't move, I don't wish to take your eye. And remember these words. When your grandchildren are your age. I will come back for you, and finish what I started here today." The boy, froze too terrified to utter a sound or even shake. He saw a silver flash and then the stranger was gone, walking through the smoke and mists. It was only later that he felt the sting along his cheek.
The ten-year-old boy stood in the cold mist of dawn, his face marked with soot, his hands sticky from trying to stop the blood from coming out of his father's throat, but it just wouldn't stop. The night had been filled with flames, and screams and the heavy thump thump thump of horse hooves. His mother and sister's last cries as the timbers of their house fell in, like most of the other houses in the village, dark now and smoldering.
In the first light of the rising sun he could see the shining being, his armor like none he had ever seen before, glinting and all swoops and curves, a silver sliver of a sword across his knees as he sat on a bench by a fence. He beckoned to the boy and the boy stiffly, hesitantly came over to stand before him.
The boy, too numb from the night's horrors was struck at how this beautiful man with pointed ears had tears running down his face. He patted the bench beside him and Leaorin, for that was his name, obeyed and sat down.
"Do you see this mark, right hear on the side of the blade? Don't touch it! Right there, yes, that one. That was made at the Battle of Lost Crowns, probably before your grandfather was born. And this one here, do you see that nick by the guard? That was made over ten of your generations ago in a battle that claimed my own father. That is very important to you, did you know that?"
"For it was one of your ancestors that rose an ugly axe and clove my father where he stood outside his farmhouse when your kind came and took our lands. He had this sword because it had been gifted by a great lord for his great works of art, that stand in many a hall in Evermeet to this day. But his art could not save him from your kind."
"You noticed my tears I see. That is because your kind lives too short. I am saddened by that. Do you know why? Because, while the hurt of the loss of my father and others of my kind is still fresh in my breast, I can only remind your family by killing off some of them every 50 years. My sadness is that you don't remember the deeds. They are too far gone in your whisps of lives. But if I do this long enough, then perhaps you will remember."
"Yes! I can see I have left an impression. And I shall leave a mark this time. Now don't move, I don't wish to take your eye. And remember these words. When your grandchildren are your age. I will come back for you, and finish what I started here today." The boy, froze too terrified to utter a sound or even shake. He saw a silver flash and then the stranger was gone, walking through the smoke and mists. It was only later that he felt the sting along his cheek.
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Posted on June 17, 2011 07:32
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