The Brightleaf Chronicles

[Mírwen Lindorië]

This is a fantasy story that i'm writing, figured I could post it here. It used to be LOTR fanfic until I gave it a makeover, lol! Hope u like it!

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Chronicle I
~The Force of Destiny~

Chapter 1
The Highway Encounter

“I still don’t understand why we had to take horses!”
Sir Tiren sighed and patted the neck of his white stallion, which snorted in displeasure at the queen’s remark.
“Don’t worry boy, I’m sure she meant nothing by it.” Sir Tiren murmured.
Of course, he knew she meant every bit of it (she had said the word ‘horses’ almost as if she had meant ‘goblins’ or ‘snakes’), but that wasn’t the point.
He had known Queen Miradelle long enough to decipher her hidden meanings and motives. That usually wasn’t hard, because she rarely hid them. In all her five years as Queen of Albor, the kingdom that the faeries had recently allied with, she had repeatedly offended nearly every knight of the court including Tiren himself. But that was her nature, and he rarely blamed her. Unfortunately, the other knights did, and were never caught in the same room with the queen if they could help it. So when the King asked for someone to accompany his wife to visit her native city, only Tiren and two others were brave enough to become her escort.
He was already pondering the idea of it being the worst mistake of his life.
Queen Miradelle reached behind her long black hair and scratched the back of her dress, where her wings lay hidden underneath the fabric.
“I hate riding! And this silly frock is constricting my wings! My father will be mortified to see me in such a demeaning position.”
Tiren smiled.
“Actually, I think he’ll be pleased at how well you’re adapting to the customs of your new people.” he ventured.
“My new people,” Miradelle mused, “I’ve been their queen for five long years, and you still consider them my ‘new’ people?”
Tiren colored slightly, ashamed to have offended his queen, however accidental it may have been. Miradelle didn’t notice, as she was riding a tad bit faster than Tiren, and therefore had to look back to see his reactions.
“At any rate,” she continued quickly, “whether or not they’re still new to me, I suppose I’m still very new to them. I can’t understand why.”
“Perhaps they just can’t get used to the idea of a Faerie Queen.” Tiren said quietly, “or even a faerie at all.”
This time Miradelle did look back. Tiren looked perfectly forlorn, and very much lost in thought. If his wings hadn’t been pulled back underneath his tunic, they would have been drooping. Deep down, she pitied him.
Poor Tiren, she thought, he tries so hard to fit in with the other knights, but Amrado’s really the only friend he has. That was probably why he took this assignment. He needed to get away from the human city, and be among his own people once more, if only for a little while.
“Well, Tiren,” Miradelle said briskly, “as we’re still hours away from our destination, and you still insist on being stiff and not flying, we might as well gallop for a while.”
Tiren’s head flew up.
“No, m’lady,” he protested, “Propriety demands—“
“Who demands? I’m the queen, I take orders from no one but my own husband!” Miradelle responded sharply, “And it’s your job to obey my demands. Onward!”
Tiren hurried after his queen, not daring to explain that propriety wasn’t a real person, and trying to think up something else clever to tell the other two knights (who had decided not to interfere with the faeries’ uncivilized behavior, and who were staring disapprovingly at the whole spectacle from a growing distance.)


High on a hill, hiding behind some rock formations, five goblins watched the procession with eager eyes. Their leader smiled a toothy grin, putting a rusted spyglass to his one good eye and focusing it on Tiren and Miradelle.
Silly faeries, he thought, to be galloping about in the wild, separating themselves from the two stronger knights. But faeries had always been silly, hadn’t they?
As Tiren and Miradelle moved farther and farther away from the human knights, the two men exchanged glances, and hesitantly sped up their horses.
The goblin leader shifted the spyglass so he could see the knights, and then lowered it.
At his silent command, the five goblins mounted their griffins and started forward…toward the two knights lagging behind.


“That’s quite enough, m’lady!” Tiren panted, “Please, stop this madness. The humans will think you uncouth.”
Miradelle paused just long enough for Tiren to grab the reins. She laughed merrily and ruffled his long white locks.
“Oh posh Sir Tiren, always the noble knight; always the honorable faerie warrior. Don’t you remember when you were a boy? You used to have fun then. You would play with my brothers in the garden and pretend the carrots were swords.”
She reached up again and gave his hair a final ruffle. Tiren gingerly removed his queen’s hand from his hair, feeling quite awkward. He quickly licked his other hand and smoothed his hair back down, glancing behind to check if the two other knights had seen this display of eccentric behavior.
Surprisingly, he didn’t see them. He didn’t see anyone for miles.
“Queen Miradelle,” he faltered, “where’s the rest of the escort?”
Miradelle tossed her hair and shrugged.
“You probably scared them off. They may be hiding behind these rocks. Or those rocks. Or those over there.”
She pointed to several rock formations and giggled, evidently pleased with herself for making such an astute assessment. Tiren, however, became instantly aware that not only could two humans be hiding behind rocks, but that those rocks were a threat to his Queen’s safety. At that very moment, a whole army of trolls or raiders could be safely nesting behind any formation of rocks just waiting to ambush them.
Which they were.
Miradelle seemed hardly concerned; as she was used to relying on her wings as a safeguard. Tiren hastily grasped her reins again, and frantically looked about for something—anything—that was unusual.
“What? Are you frightened, Sir Knight?” Miradelle teased.
“Sh!” he whispered, “Don’t say another word. Sound carries well out here. Tell me, how long has it been since you’ve flown?”
Miradelle thought for a moment.
“Hmmm….about…six months, actually. Why?”
Tiren leaned in closer, gravely looking her in the eyes.
“It might be a good idea to free up those wings of yours, just in case.”
He was trying to make her more aware of the danger, but sadly, she interpreted it as something quite different. Yet however much of a flirt she may be, she wasn’t about to lead Tiren on, as he was her younger by about three years. She never really let him forget it.
“Just in case what?” Miradelle laughed, “Do you think we’ll be attacked by gypsies?”
As she was speaking, a horrific scream was heard. Tiren whirled around. Brandishing his sword, he desperately tried to pinpoint its location. He was saved the bother when a limp form fell out from behind a rock and rolled numbly down a small hill.
It was a knight.
Tiren felt his throat turn dry.
“Sir Ethbert…” he whispered.
A griffin shrieked in the near distance, and the five mounted goblins emerged. Miradelle’s hands went to her mouth in horror, and Tiren grabbed her arm.
“There’s only five of them,” he said shakily, more to reassure himself than to comfort Miradelle.
“That made little difference against Sir Whats-his-face and Sir Whos-it! What makes you think you’re any better?” Miradelle hissed.
Tiren conveniently ignored the question, and started trying to unlace the back of Miradelle’s dress.
“M’lady, your wings. If we could just—“
“Leave them alone, whelp,” Miradelle snapped, “We can fly, but so can the griffins. What good will it do?”
“Alright,” Tiren said, “new plan. You run, I fight. Approved?”
Miradelle needed no further instruction, and took off galloping away from the goblins.
The goblin leader looked Sir Tiren up and down with a smirk. He deemed Tiren a very frail, very young novice warrior, barely out of squiredom. It wouldn’t have been far from the truth, save that Tiren was much older than he appeared, and hadn’t been a squire for some time. Tiren raised his sword, prepared to give his life for his queen. The goblin leader just laughed.
You should have run, boy.

Miradelle feverently kept galloping, trying to get as far away from the goblins as possible. She was surprised to hear no sounds of pursuit; not that she was particularly listening for them. She subconsciously knew that if she heard the slightest sound of pain from young Sir Tiren she would be obliged to turn around, and if she did that, she would have to watch the poor boy die. So, closing her ears to any sounds whatsoever, she rode on.
It wasn’t long before she found herself at the edge of a cliff--a large one with a rather nasty drop into a churning river. While anyone in her situation would have expected such a cliff to appear at the moment that they were trying to escape from harm, Miradelle didn’t even see the precipice until it was almost too late. Indeed, without meaning any offense to the girl, it would be more truthful to say that she didn’t see the cliff at all, and it was the horse that saved both itself and its mistress from an untimely demise.
Miradelle was sufficiently repaid for her unawareness, as the horse had to rear to stop in time, and she wasn’t holding the reins as tightly as she should have been. Miradelle toppled backward toes over head, landing in a tangled heap of satin and muddied petticoats. Even in this dire circumstance, the horse still managed a nicker (which in horse language could be translated to a snicker in this situation.)
Miradelle should have picked herself up right away and tried to free her wings, but she wasn’t very smart to begin with, and she was in quite a daze from her fall. Shaking her head and trying to regain her composure, she glared menacingly at the horse (who was enjoying the situation immensely.)
At that very moment, she heard the fated cry of Sir Tiren. Her evasive action consisted of a small feminine gasp and a fainting fit, which she promptly conformed to. The horse had a better plan. It perked up his ears and took off running to Tiren’s aid. It had always liked Tiren much better than Miradelle, and had no problem leaving her unconscious in the mud.

The battle had gone considerably ill for Sir Tiren, as was to be expected since he was only one knight and there were five goblins. He had, however, succeeded in killing one goblin and maiming another, so that in the end he was really only up against the goblin leader and two minions. That was more than the poor human knights had been able to do, though it wasn’t their fault in the slightest. They had simply been victims to the element of surprise, or the ancient goblin art of ‘coming at the enemy from behind and stabbing them in the back’. It was a highly effective strategy, and was used often.
As Tiren had seen the goblins before they had a chance to attack him, he had put up quite a fight and held his own for a greater time than even he deemed possible. But sheer numbers were against him, and before long, the dreaded goblin leader had his hand around Tiren’s neck and his knife pointed directly at Tiren’s heart. Tiren had cried out in both pain and surprise at the sudden constriction of his neck, but was unable to utter a sound afterwards, though he gasped a good deal.
This was the predicament in which Miradelle’s horse found him. Without even stopping its gallop, it ran straight for the goblin leader, and lowering its head to a butting position, struck the goblin forcefully. The goblin was taken aback, as was Tiren, who however recovered quickly enough to nab the goblin leader’s knife, and become an actual threat once more. The goblin leader was in more of a daze than Miradelle had been in (the horse must have had some unicorn in it to hit that hard), and it was up to the other two goblins to take Tiren down again. But they were much too frightened of the horse to even dream about it.
The horse was busy at that moment scolding Tiren’s stallion for its various crimes. Mainly, for being such an idiot as to let Tiren dismount in the first place, and then to stand by like a dumb beast watching Tiren nearly get killed. Tiren’s stallion looked quite ashamed of itself, and hung its head sadly. It hung it so low, in fact, that it failed to see the other two goblins mount their griffins and ride away…in the direction of the fainted Queen Miradelle. Tiren did see it, and although he did not know about the fainting episode, he did have sense enough to mount Miradelle’s steed (he had lost faith in his old charger) and ride on after them. He left his stallion behind to guard the fallen goblin leader, which it did with a revered solemnity.

Miradelle was still unconscious, and even if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have known what to do. One of the goblins grabbed her limp body and slung her over his shoulder. The two goblins took flight on their griffins just as Tiren rounded the bend and beheld them.
“Miradelle!” he cried, forgetting court etiquette for the moment.
He spurred his horse onward, taking the knife he had just confiscated and cutting off his shirt (he had no time for buttons.) He threw it aside. Almost simultaneously, out came his shining silver wings. They stretched and flexed, as if they had hated being cooped up for so long. As the blood flow returned to his wings, they began to glow brighter. And brighter. Tiren balanced gingerly on the horse, raising himself upward until he was standing on its back.
No need for anything fancy, the horse snorted.
If Tiren understood, he didn’t show it. Taking a few deep breaths, he dug his feet into the horse’s back. As the horse reached the edge and skidded to a halt, Tiren closed his eyes and made a flying leap off the cliff. He began to freefall for a few seconds, tucking his wings inward to increase the speed. Then, he spread them out again, catching the wind and soaring upward. Flapping them a few times for altitude, he glided forward, fixing his gaze on the two mounted goblins…and his captured queen.

The goblins had heard Tiren call out Miradelle’s name, and expected a pursuit. Therefore, the goblin that was not holding Miradelle took the opportunity to load his crossbow, knowing he would certainly need it.
“What are ye doing,” cried the goblin that was holding Miradelle, “He’s a faerie!”
“He’s not the sort that you can take alive, I’ll warrant!” the other goblin shot back.
“You could at least try the net!” argued the first goblin.
The other goblin sighed and lowered his crossbow. The two of them flew into a large cloud, and disappeared from view.
No, no! Tiren thought. He couldn’t lose her now, not when he was so close. He couldn’t count the number of people who would personally gut him if Miradelle was taken. He put on some speed and flew into the cloud.
Right into the goblin’s net.
Tiren was caught unawares, and hardly knew what was happening. By the time he did, it was too late. The net had been pulled shut, and he had been entangled in its ropes like a butterfly. The goblins both laughed.
“See? What’d I tell you? Easy pickings.” said the goblin that had suggested the idea.
The other goblin sneered at Tiren.
“Not so tough now, are you, little bird?”
Tiren felt his cheeks grow hot. The goblins flew onward, each holding two ropes tightly, bearing the netted Tiren between them. The faerie knight thrashed about in vain, desperately trying to escape. But his wings were entwined in the net, and would not come free. Finally, he realized that he still had the goblin leader’s knife sheathed in his belt. Whipping it out, he hacked away at the ropes.
The goblins were not pleased.
“He has a knife!”
“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” answered the goblin, busy trying to hold two ropes with one hand and Miradelle with the other.
The other goblin pulled out his crossbow, and aimed it at Tiren.
“Don’t shoot it!” called his comrade.
“Better kill ‘im and be one faerie short than let ‘im live t’kill us both an’ save his lady.” He said darkly.
Tiren began to panic, still struggling with the ropes. In his frenzy, he fumbled the knife, and lost his grip on it. He stared hopelessly as it plummeted to the ground.
“Well, that’s it then,” said the goblin, “Put the crossbow away.”
But that wasn’t it. Tiren wouldn’t give up so easily. He tried ripping the net apart with his bare hands; gnawing away the ropes with his teeth; scratching with his nails, anything. The goblin holding Miradelle grinned in admiration.
“He’s a fighter, that one. Lord Hadar will be glad to get him.”
Tiren stopped squirming for a fleeting moment.
“Lord Hadar? The wizard Hadar?” he cried, his face full of dread.
“An’ he’s smart too.” observed the goblin.
Tiren suddenly veered to the right, causing the right rope to jerk toward him, and the goblin with the crossbow to lose his balance. He fell off his griffin, but still retained his hold on the rope. Hanging below Tiren for a few seconds, he shot his crossbow at Tiren before finally losing his grip and falling to the ground.
Tiren tried very hard to avoid the shot, but he was trapped, and the arrow was aimed straight for him. He did managed to pull up his leg directly in the way of the arrow just in time to keep it from hitting anything vital. He heard a thud, and saw the arrow imbed itself deep in his leg muscle. Moments later, there was a deep, horrifying pain.
He let out a scream. The arrow hurt far more than he thought possible. He clutched at it, and blood started to seep out of the wound. He hoped it would stop or get better, or even become numb, but the pain only intensified. As it traveled up his leg, he prayed that it wasn’t poisoned. Goblins had been known to do that. His vision became blurred with tears as he felt himself descending; slowly at first, but gaining speed. Looking weakly upward, he saw that the remaining goblin had leapt—with Miradelle—onto the other griffin. His ropes were tied to his former steed, which was struggling to carry Tiren’s weight on its own.
And it was failing.
The goblin decided to cut its losses and leave both Tiren and the griffin behind. After all, he had his prize.
As the tree line grew closer and closer, Tiren’s breath caught in his throat.
Stop crying, he thought harshly, pain is just part of the job. So is death.
He wiped away his tears with a bloodied hand, and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry I failed you, Queen Miradelle.” he whispered.
He then braced himself for the impact that he knew must come. Instead, he felt the net catch on something and swing.
The branches!
He opened his eyes to find that he and the griffin were in a spiraled decent together, traveling around and around the branch until they finally stopped, slamming into each other. Tiren found himself face to face with an angry griffin. He pulled his head back just in the nick of time, and the sharp beak caught only the top of the net.
That was where Tiren needed to have cut all along. As the ‘ceiling’ snapped away, the floor of the net dropped from under him, and he fell to the ground. The griffin fell too, but the knot of the net top got caught in a small slit between the branches, and left the poor animal dangling again…right above Tiren’s head. In the griffins mind, Tiren ceased to be the enemy, and instead, it focused on the insolent rope. It bit the rope off with a short snap and flew away to chase eagles in the sky.
Tiren was left alone in a strange forest, miles away from where he had started. He knew not what direction. His leg was still throbbing in pain, but he hadn’t the strength to nurse it or even grope at it anymore. He was winded from the fall, and every bone in his body still smarted from the impact. It even hurt to breath.
As his white eyelashes fluttered, trying to stay open, Tiren could only think one thought.
I have failed her.
Eventually, the pain was too much. His body slipped into unconsciousness, and he lay there in the woods in a pitiable heap on the forest floor, far from any individual aid.
While Miradelle was flown away by a lone goblin riding a griffin...to the abode of Hadar the dark wizard.

[Nimrodel]

That was EXCELLENT!!! Very good writing!! I can't wait to see what happens next!!! Keep it up!

[Mírwen Lindorië]

Lol, thanks! I'm glad you like it!


Chapter 2
Enter the Brightleafs

Hidden away in a lonely forest, Sir Tiren stirred from his lifeless state for the first time in twenty-four hours. At first, he didn’t recall where he was. He was only aware of the deep, constant pain in his left leg. Then, he remembered how it had happened.
Why aren’t I dead? He thought, sitting up slowly. He whimpered a bit, crinking his back and rubbing his sore muscles.
Maybe the arrow wasn’t poisoned at all. Maybe I’m just a pathetic wuss. A silly little wuss who couldn’t even protect his queen against five measly goblins.
Tiren thought of Miradelle, alone in some dungeon cell, frightened to death. Or maybe falling prey to the wizard’s dark enchantments. And it was all his fault.
His self-pity fest was interrupted by the sight of three ravenous prey birds circling overhead.
“They’re…they’re waiting for me to die…” Tiren whispered to himself.
With renewed spirit, Tiren stretched his wings and took a deep breath.
I’m the only one who knows where Miradelle is, he thought, and if I don’t make it back to Albor, King Deveron will never know what happened to her.
He glanced at his leg wound, and at the arrow protruding out of it. He wouldn’t be able to walk, but maybe…just maybe he could fly.
He beat his wings with all the strength he could muster, and felt himself rise slightly off the ground.
“Yes, that’s it.” he breathed, clearing the canopy.
His heart sank. Keeping aloft was taking all the muscle and concentration he had. He wouldn’t be able to fly all the way to Albor, but perhaps there was a village nearby where he could rest and find a healer, or at least get something to eat. He didn’t know how long he’d been out. He set out for what looked like the borders of the wood, desperately trying to stay in the air.
He didn’t know how long he’d be able to.

* * * * *

Deep in Evergreen Forest, hidden by trees, lay the abode of the high elves. They differed from the wood elves in only stature and dwelling. The high elves built their houses in the tall trees instead of on the ground, and they were as tall as any human, unlike their pint-sized relations. They were just as handy with their fingers, however, and all could move just as noiselessly, blending into their surrounding with ease in case of danger.
Fortunately, these were relatively peaceful times (in the forest at least), and many elves were out and about climbing trees, wading in the river, and enjoying the beauty of nature around them. Sir Amrado Brightleaf, on a temporary leave of absence from duty in Albor, sat on a large rock formation that was covered in vines, conversing with a little boy and girl seated on either side of him. He was dressed in a brown tunic, his scruffy, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail to keep from blowing in the wind.
The little girl had no such concern. Her beautiful golden hair was whipping about in the clean summer breeze. She wore a blue dress that matched her sky blue eyes perfectly. The boy had dark brown hair that was just beginning to creep down his neck and poke behind his ears. His eyes were a piercing grey, but had a mischievous look to them.
“Ronie says I’ll be sure to grow two inches this summer,” the girl chirped happily, “maybe I’ll even get taller than him!”
Amrado laughed.
“I don’t know, Flora, little boy elves tend to be taller than little girl elves.”
“But not faeries!” she protested, “Faerie girls can be really tall! Mommy was a faerie, wasn’t she?”
She looked up at Amrado hopefully.
“Yes, Florese,” Amrado said quietly, “Your mother was a beautiful faerie. A sky faerie.”
“Show us the picture again, Daddy. Please?” the boy asked.
Amrado drew out a painted miniature from his pocket, so small that it might have been done by a wood elf, or a tiny earth faerie. The portrait was of a stunningly beautiful woman. Her dark hair cloaked her in a mysterious shadow, contrasted by her ivory complexion and silver wings. She was smiling, and her grey eyes seemed to laugh aloud. They had the same mischievous look that her little boy did.
“Why did she leave, Daddy?” Florese asked.
“She didn’t leave. The faeries made her go away with them.” her brother answered.
“They said we weren’t married correctly,” Amrado answered, “faeries are very particular about that sort of thing. They said that we had left something out of the ceremony, but it wouldn’t have mattered to us. I think her father didn’t really like elves.”
“Why not?” both children cried.
“Well, we don’t have wings, for one thing. And we aren’t as smart or handsome as the sky faeries. We haven’t a light in our eyes, and we sleep in trees. They consider us inferior.”
“Daddy,” the boy said softly, “does Mommy think that we’re in….in…”
“No, of course not, Burrone.” Amrado said soothingly, “She loves you very much. And you’re both more faerie than elf, you have faerie wings and lights in your eyes. She adored you.”
“Then why doesn’t she visit us?” Florese asked.
“Well, she’s very busy now. She is the Queen of Albor, remember.”
“But she’s our mommy,” Burrone protested, “can’t we visit her instead?”
“Oh Ronie, Albor is a very long way from here, and you and Flora are only five. You aren’t old enough to travel yet.” Amrado replied.
“How about when we turn six?” Florese bargained.
“No, I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until you’re seven or eight.”
Florese sighed in dismay.
“She’ll have forgotten all about us!” she cried.
“Flora, don’t be so silly. She probably already has.” Burrone answered glumly.
“I can assure you, she hasn’t forgotten. You’re her children, and I’m certain that she thinks of you every day, just like we think about her.” Amrado said, giving the miniature to his daughter. Florese studied it intently, wishing she looked more like the woman in the picture, and not so very young, and so very fair-haired. She fingered her golden locks, and sighed. Amrado laughed.
“Your mother loved your hair, Florese.”
“Really?” Florese exclaimed brightly.
Amrado embraced his twins.
“She loved everything about you.” he told them, “Now, I’m going to help your aunt with dinner. You two stay here and play a while longer.”
Amrado nimbly hopped off the rock and walked away toward a group of trees with houses built in the branches. Burrone watched him leave, and sighed.
“I do wish he’d stop going to Albor, and live here with us. Don’t you, Flora?”
But Florese wasn’t listening. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked up at the sun.
“Flora, don’t look at the sun, you’ll go blind!” Burrone said.
As he was speaking, a bright light flashed in the sky, traveling toward them at great speed.
“Look Ronie! What’s that?” Florese yelled, pointing at the sky.
“I…I don’t know,” he whispered, “It’s like a shooting star, but it’s daytime.”
As the children watched, the streak of light came closer and closer.
“Ronie…” Florese said nervously, “It’s shooting this way!”
Burrone grabbed his sister’s hand. They jumped off the rock, and ran behind a tree. They then peaked around the trunk to watch.
The light had turned into a shape—a person with wings. As he came closer, he seemed to be falling more than flying.
“He’s going to crash.” whispered Burrone
Indeed, the boy was right. The winged creature bumped against the tree canopy and rolled across the ground before finally coming to a halt.
“It’s a faerie!” Florese shouted, running out from behind the tree.
“Flora!” Burrone cried, “Don’t touch it! It’s dead, and prolly has a million diseases!”
Flora looked down at the faerie. He was definitely not moving, and appeared to be dead. She knelt down and put her hand to his bare chest.
Burrone was horrified.
“Flora, what are you doing? I said not to touch it!” he said harshly, stepping out from the protection of the tree.
“He’s not dead,” Florese said softly, “I think he’s just asleep. That’s why he fell down.”
“No, he’s dead,” Burrone proclaimed, “see?”
With that, he gave the faerie’s still form a little kick.
“Ow!” it exclaimed.
Burrone jumped back, and Florese gave a little giggle. She then turned her attention to the faerie, who was moving a bit, but whose eyes were still closed.
Tiren opened his eyes to see two bright blue ones staring back at him.
“Hullo,” said the girl, “My name’s Florese. What’s your name?”
Tiren blinked, puzzled by the child.
“M-my name’s Tiren. Sir Tiren.”
“You’re a knight?”
“Yes.”
“My Daddy’s a knight too!” Florese cried gleefully.
“Then maybe he can help me,” Tiren said, “I’ve lost my way, and can’t exactly fly, or walk--”
“You have an arrow in your leg!”
“Yes, thank you for noticing.”
“Burrone, go get Daddy!” Florese called, “He’ll know what to do!”
Burrone BLEEEEPed his head and stared at Tiren quizzingly, then quickly turned around and made his way to the treehouse.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Tiren, Ronie’ll find help.”
“It’s Sir Tiren.” Tiren replied weakly.
“What kind of a faerie are you?”
“I’m a sky faerie.”
“I thought so!” Florese cried, “My mommy was a sky faerie too!”
“She…was?” Tiren asked.
Then he saw the resemblances. This girl had lights in her eyes too, and was a bit too silly to be an elf. But no faerie had ever had golden hair, because no faerie had ever married an elf. Except…
“Who was your mother?” he said slowly.
“She was the most beautiful sky faerie ever. Here’s her picture, see?”
She handed Tiren the miniature. His eyes grew wide.
“Miradelle.” he whispered.
“Yes,” Florese replied, “Queen Miradelle, because she’s the Queen of Albor. But she’s never come here. She’s too busy to see us. But Daddy says we can visit her when Ronie and I are seven years old!”
Tiren stared at the miniature, taking it all in. He had known Miradelle had once run away to the forest and had married an elf, but he never heard anything about her leaving behind children!
“There’s my Daddy now!” Florese exclaimed, getting up and running to meet Amrado and Burrone.
“See Daddy? See?” Florese chattered excitedly, “It’s a faerie, and his name is--”
“Tiren!” Amrado cried in disbelief.
“You know him, Daddy?” Burrone asked in wonder.
“Yes, he’s a Domëi Knight like me,” Amrado answered hurriedly, “What is it, Tiren? What’s wrong? What happened to you?”
“We were attacked…by goblins…on the road to Sky City. Wait, you’re their father?”
“Yes, and what of it?” Amrado said impatiently, “I told you I had children.
You look like you’re at death’s door!”
“It wouldn’t be far from the truth.” Tiren said glumly, “I’m the only knight left alive of our company. Even so, this leg has been giving me such a heartache that if I hadn’t been able to fly, I’d already be dead.”
“Good gracious!” Amrado exclaimed, “And you flew all the way here? It looks like you’ve had a rough landing. But you never were one for graceful alighting. At any rate, we’ve got to get you indoors. I’ll fix up that leg of yours.”
“Actually,” Tiren said, “I was hoping you had some sort of…”
“Healer? Sorry, this is a small village filled with country folk who’ve never even seen a goblin arrow. What little we know of medicine is shared among us. I think I’m probably your best bet. Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Amrado picked up the injured faerie and bore him to the treehouse; Burrone and Florese trailing close behind.
“Amrado,” Tiren said weakly, “You were the elf who married Queen Miradelle?”
Amrado was silent for a few moments.
“Yes,” he said finally in a low voice, “That was me. We were both young, we fell in love, and I didn’t know who she was.”
“Do you still love her?”
Amrado sighed.
“Will you prosecute me if I say yes?”
Tiren shook his head.
“But you will blame me,” Amrado continued, “Blame me for becoming a knight and leaving my children, just so I could see her face again. That’s what love’ll do to you.”
Tiren said nothing more, and Amrado carried him the rest of the way in silence. When he reached the treehouse, he set Tiren down gingerly in a wooden lift, then climbed in himself. Grabbing a rope hanging down, he pulled, and the lift began to move upward.
“Simple country folk, eh?” Tiren remarked, forcing a smile.
“I’m the only elf who has one of these,” Amrado replied, still pulling the rope, “Miradelle didn’t trust me to carry the babies up the rope ladder. So she had me build this little contraption.”
“It looks like it took some hard work.” Tiren said.
“Yes, but I would have done anything for her, you see. She inspired me.”
Amrado cleared his throat, realizing that he had perhaps said too much.
“Well, here we are.” he continued, tying the rope to a branch.
He lifted Tiren up again, and stepped out onto the porch. Florese and Burrone were already inside (they had taken the rope ladder) and were waiting for them.
“What do you think?” Amrado asked, stepping through the door, “Small, I know, but it is cozy, and all that we elves require.”
“It’s nice.” Tiren said as Amrado set him down on a couch, “but I think I’ve been here before. I suppose you didn’t know, but I was the faerie who found Miradelle, and told the king where she was. That’s why I was chosen to join the Domëi Knights. He would never have trusted me abroad otherwise.”
Amrado said nothing, pretending not to have heard. Instead, he called to his cousin.
“Linadia! Come here and meet Tiren, he’s a friend of mine from Arthenyarn City.
Linadia bustled in from the kitchen, clicking her tongue.
“For shame, Amrado. You never tell me when we’re to have company. It’s a good thing I made extra vegetable soup, or we’d all be done for.”
She was a blond, simple looking creature (elves usually are), but still pretty in a plain, countryish sort of way. She was the only mother that the twins remembered, and she often took care of them while Amrado was away. They called her their “aunt”, though she was really Amrado’s first cousin.
“I’m sorry to be an inconvenience to you,” Tiren told Amrado, “I know you don’t get to visit your family much.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Amrado said, waving it off, “Soon, the twins will be old enough to travel, and they’ll live in Arthenyarn City with me…and with their mother. The cottage I have there is already too big for just me, and much too quiet.”
Tiren felt a lump grow in his throat as he realized that he still hadn’t told Amrado what had happened to Miradelle. Yet somehow, he couldn’t bear to. It would cause so much sorrow, not only to Amrado, but to the twins as well. Maybe when they were asleep he could tell his friend privately.
“Now,” said Amrado, tucking Tiren beneath a warm blanket, “would you rather eat first, or take care of that arrow wound?”
“Eat.” smiled Tiren. He was not eager to have the arrow removed. The pain was just beginning to become tolerable, and he couldn’t imagine the renewed torment of having the arrow suddenly ripped from his body. Amrado understood perfectly.
“I hope you like vegetables and squirrels. It’s mostly all we have here. That, and rabbits if we’re lucky.”
Tiren managed a laugh, which pleased Amrado greatly.
The meal that followed was a very pleasant one, and Tiren soon found that vegetable soup and roasted, juicy squirrel meat in a warm and cozy treehouse could make him forget his troubles quite easily. He was particularly amused by little Florese, who made childish, but lively comments about whatever the two men happened to be talking about. Burrone said nothing, but stared at Tiren the whole time. It made him a bit uncomfortable, but he supposed the boy had never seen a full-blooded sky faerie before. Even so, Burrone’s gaze looked almost hostile. As if he knew Tiren was hiding something.
“I do wish I were really and truly good at some sort of hobby,” Florese was saying, “but I’m honestly not. I can’t fight, I can’t swim, and I can’t read. But Ronie can fight, and he can draw pictures too.”
“You’re an artist, Burrone?” Tiren asked, glad to give Burrone a chance to stop staring.
Burrone shrugged.
“It amuses me.” he said flatly, not taking his eyes off Tiren.
“It certainly does amuse him,” Amrado added, “he’ll stay out for hours sketching the birds with nothing but a piece of charcoal and a papyrus leaf. He’s quite talented.”
“But I can’t climb trees,” Burrone returned, trying to take the attention off of him, “Florese can climb trees.”
“Don’t be silly,” Amrado laughed, “What kind of elf can’t climb trees?”
“A Faerie-elf.” Burrone said, grabbing a dinner roll and stuffing it in his mouth.
“Actually,” Tiren said, “the official name for an elf and faerie hybrid is ‘elfaerie’, not ‘faerie-elf.’
“Same thing.” Burrone countered, his mouth still full.
“Burrone, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Linadia scolded, “Suppose your mother were here! What would she say?”
“She’d say ‘let him’, and be done with it,” Amrado retorted, “Wouldn’t you agree, Tiren?”
Tiren nodded distantly. Miradelle had defied etiquette before, though she did keep herself in line under grave circumstances when important people were watching her. He could only imagine what she would be like in this treehouse, living a simple, comfortable life with the man she loved. Those were probably the best two years of her life. And Tiren himself had ruined them, just as he had let her get kidnapped by those cursed goblins.
It’s a wonder she doesn’t hate me, he thought with a sigh.
“What are you thinking about, Sir Tiren?” Burrone asked suddenly, “Would you like to say something? It seems as if you do. But it troubles you, and you don’t wish us to hear it. What are you hiding? Tell us!”
Tiren was stunned at how perceptive the boy was.
Just like his grandfather, he remembered, he always knows what people are thinking.
“I’m afraid what I need to say is for your Daddy only. It doesn’t concern you. Well, it does a little, but only indirectly. That is…”
“All right,” Amrado cut in, “bedtime for the twins. The grown-ups need to talk privately.”
“Daddy!” Florese whined.
“Come off it!” Burrone protested.
“That is,” Amrado reflected, “unless you want to help your auntie Linadia with the dishes.”
It was remarkable how quickly the twins disappeared into their bedroom. Amrado chuckled.
“Works every time. But now, Tiren, lets get to work on that leg,”
Amrado went to a cabinet at the far end of the room and pulled out a white rag and some willow bark.
“For the pain,” he explained.
Tiren bit his lip and eyed the willow bark skeptically. Amrado set it on a table and bustled around in the kitchen for a moment, returning with a wooden bowl, a small stone, and some red powder.
Needless to say, Tiren was a bit nervous.
Amrado put the willow bark in the bowl and started grinding it with the stone, humming as he went.
“Now what was it you wanted to tell me?” he asked, “I do hope it isn’t about Miradelle. You see, that was all a very long time ago, and I’m content to live in the same city that she does, seeing her occasionally from a distance. I do love her, but I’ve never interfered with her court life. You know that.”
“Indeed I do,” Tiren mused, “But I wasn’t going to talk about that. I just wish you had told me that you knew Miradelle already, or I would never have been so jealous. Not that I loved her or anything, but she was my princess before she was anyone else’s queen. I ever sought for her approval, but she always liked you better than me. I saw no reason for it save that you happened to be an elf, and she was displeased with me for injuring you in our first joust.”
“Oh yes,” Amrado recalled, “you gave me quite a jab with the lance, but were kind enough to visit me in the infirmary every day afterwards. That was more than Miradelle did.”
“Well,” Tiren said hesitantly, “she actually inquired after your health each day, and I needed an answer. Not that it wasn’t nice talking to you, of course. I was glad to have met you. I didn’t have any other friends.”
“I never understood that,” answered Amrado, “you’re quite pleasant to be with, and can carry on a very dynamic conversation.”
“Thank you,” Tiren said quietly, “But I’m afraid it was more my appearance that repelled people. Not me myself.”
Amrado took his hand and smiled kindly.
“I suppose they must have been jealous of you, Tiren. After all, you can fly. That’s one very good reason for resentment. And you’re much more handsome than any of them.”
“You think they’re jealous of that?”
“Did you never notice how the women took to you?” Amrado teased.
Tiren grinned.
“I had noticed, actually.”
“You know,” said Amrado, adding the red powder to the mix, “I am glad you could come for a visit, even if it is under unhappy circumstances.
“Amrado, I am sorry, but I have deceived you as to how unhappy the circumstances really are. The reason we were going to Sky City was to accompany Miradelle herself. She wanted to visit her father, and--”
“Wait, Miradelle was with you?” Amrado said, looking up and stopping his work.
“Was, yes,” said Tiren sorrowfully, “but the same goblins who killed the other knights and left me fore dead…they also took her with them. They mentioned the words ‘Hadar’, and ‘Black Woods’. I fear that could mean only one thing.”
“Are you saying she’s been kidnapped?!” cried Amrado, his mind still a few steps behind.
“Yes, yes I am, “Tiren moaned, “and they’ve taken her to the Black Woods, to Hadar, the dark wizard.”
“Well what’s been done?” Amrado yelled, “Is he after ransom? Is he going to kill her?”
“We don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Hasn’t anyone tried to retrieve her?” Amrado shouted in exasperation.
“Amrado, I only just got here,” Tiren protested, “I’m the only one who knows! Now you know too! I haven’t even gotten a chance to give a message to the king!”
“You say the king doesn’t know that his wife’s been abducted?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. If I don’t get back to Arthenyarn soon, he’ll think we’ve both been killed.”
Amrado seemed to calm down at this remark.
“The king will think she’s dead, will he? What if, say, we rescued her--”
“Impossible!”
“We’ve completed harder missions before! We’ll only need to sneak in, grab some keys, and sneak her out! Maybe take out a few guards here and there and improvise when complications arise, but other than that, it’s simple!”
“Simple? Amrado, have you gone mad?”
“Don’t you see what this could mean?” Amrado exclaimed, pacing around the room, “The world will think her dead. If we rescued her and didn’t tell anyone, they’d still think her dead. Miradelle and I could be together again here in the forest, or maybe far away from here in a distant land with our children!”
“Slow down,” Tiren called, “Wait just a minute. You’re willing to risk your life, your honor, and your knighthood all for a chance to get your former wife back?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she likes being a queen? What if she loves King Deveron?”
“She can’t love King Deveron. It was an arranged marriage, and she barely knew him.”
“From what I’ve heard, she barely knew you when you two got married,” Tiren argued, “I’m just trying to look at this realistically and diplomatically. If Miradelle ‘dies’, as you put it, then the faerie-human alliance could fail. Another war could start, and all faeriedom could be wiped out, it’s all happened before! And what about me? Where do I fit into your plan for future happiness, Amrado? As far as I see it, I’m ‘dead’ as well, and I don’t have any one true love to live happily ever after with.
“I’m sure there’s some pretty farm girl somewhere who would give her life for you, oh noble knight. You would make her dreams come true.”
“Hers and yours and Miradelle’s, supposedly. But what about what I want?”
“Well, what do you want?”
“I…I don’t know.” Tiren concluded, “I want a girl to love me for who I am, not because I’m another handsome face. I want to be a captain someday, and plan battles, and help people. I want to be rich, and help my mother live out her days in comfort. I want to live, not just exist in some tucked away corner of the world, but live a successful, profitable life serving my king and his family.”
“You can do that,” Amrado compromised, “After you help me free Miradelle, you can go back to Arthenyarn and tell everyone that she really is dead.”
“I can’t.”
“And why not?”
“King Deveron of Albor may be deceived, but not my real king, Miradelle’s father, King Syrrien of the Sky Faeries. He has this way of knowing that you’re hiding things, and whether you’re lying or not. Like Burrone did at dinner. I could never tell King Syrrien a falsehood. He would know. Believe me, he would know.”
“All right,” Amrado said softly, sitting back down, “You don’t have to decide tonight. You’re still wounded, at any rate. You need to rest. Are you ready for me to pull that arrow out of your leg?”
Tiren nodded.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good.”
Amrado poured the mixture onto Tiren’s leg, massaging it for a while until Tiren assured him that his limb had gone quite numb.
“Now, the moment of truth,” Amrado grinned.
“Please, don’t make this an epic.” Tiren whimpered, “Just get it over with and end my suffering.”
“Your suffering is only beginning, my friend,” Amrado answered, tossing him a small blanket, “Here, scream into this. I don’t want to wake the twins.”
Tiren’s eyes grew wide with dread. Amrado could hardly suppress a chuckle.
“All right, now when I count to three…”
“No, no, don’t do it that way,” Tiren begged, “Just yank it out, nice and quick like-Ah!”
Tiren yelped as Amrado suddenly jerked the arrow out.
“See, that wasn’t so bad. You didn’t even have to use the blanket.” Amrado said cheerfully, setting the infamous arrow on the table.
Tiren merely glared at the elf.
“No mercy.” he grumbled, “Just you wait, Brightleaf. I’ll nail you a good one for this.”
Amrado didn’t seem to hear him. He took some more of the willow mixture and trickled it on Tiren’s leg. Then, he grabbed the white rag and bound the wound up tight.
“There,” he said brightly, “Good as new. Sort of.”
Tiren looked down at the lumpy cloth and smiled in spite of himself.
“Yes,” he concluded, “Good as new.”
Amrado Brightleaf bid his faerie companion good night and retired to his own chambers; his thoughts plagued with visions of his beloved Miradelle tormented and suffering.
I will save you, he thought, even if Tiren speaks true and you don’t wish the life I offer, I will save you nonetheless.

[Nimrodel]

Two thumbs up! I'm hooked by this!

[Mírwen Lindorië]

Yaaaaaayy!!!!! ;D

CHAPTER 3: Like Old Times

King Deveron stood near one of the huge open windows of his palace, staring out at the sunrise, his city, and the land beyond. The wind blew his dark hair every which direction, even over his emerald green eyes, but he did not flinch. His brain was preoccupied with a hundred different orders, a hundred different decrees, but at the front of his mind was the thought that Miradelle hadn’t contacted him since she had set out for Sky City. That had been three days ago. The journey should have taken less than two. He should have received word by now. His knights should have returned.
But they hadn’t.
Hearing someone enter the room, he turned around, and beheld Captain Galivane, the leader of his knights. He was a tall, bearded man, but younger than he appeared. The look of a determined warrior was on his face. His deep brown eyes looked proud and in control, but behind them he was contemplating how to address the issue at hand calmly and rationally, without upsetting his king.
“Your Majesty,” he said, kneeling, “we’ve received word from the Faerie King.”
“Then Miradelle has arrived?” King Deveron pressed.
The captain shook his head.
“Nay, m’lord. They’ve had no news of her either. Something…must have happened on the road.”
King Deveron gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes. But his anger was not towards Captain Galivane. It was towards whatever detestable creature had dared to touch his queen.
“Your highness,” Captain Galivane said quietly, “We await your orders.”
“Take some scouts and a battalion of soldiers,” Deveron commanded, “Scour the path they took, and don’t return until you’ve found something.”
Captain Galivane bowed, and left the room. King Deveron let out a mournful sigh.
“Miradelle,” he whispered aloud, “where are you?”

* * * * *

Faeries had always been fast healers, and Tiren was no exception. The next morning after his arrival found his injury much improved. Amrado gave himself full credit, but Tiren didn’t mind. He was more concerned about Queen Miradelle’s predicament. Amrado could tell this, (they had a way, like most good friends, of guessing each other’s thoughts) and, as soon as his children had gone out to play, he got down to business again.
“So what do you say, Tiren? Me and you fighting ultimate evil and prevailing against all odds, just like old times, eh? Don’t tell me it doesn’t have a certain appeal.”
Tiren sighed.
“Of course it does, but I think we’d accomplish a lot more if we had an army of humans and faeries at our backs. Or if the King of Albor entered into open negotiation with the wizard.”
“I still like my plan better. If we succeed, Miradelle can choose where we go from there.”
“And if we fail,” Tiren said hotly, “no one will ever know she was kidnapped in the first place. I think that’s one risk we’re both unwilling to take.”
“I’ve an idea!”
“Oh no,” Tiren groaned, “Here it comes.”
“What if we write out a letter and I tell Linadia to send it to Arthenyarn city if we don’t come back in a week?”
Tiren thought hard.
“Well…” he finally said, “If the king finds out about Miradelle if we fail, and if he doesn’t find out if we succeed…”
“Then you’ll do it?”
“Do what?”
“Come with me,” Amrado said eagerly, “Come and save your queen. Isn’t that worth more than any of your other achievements combined?”
“It does have a certain attraction to it, but I don’t want to jump into anything too quickly, especially with my leg as damaged as it is.”
“Oh come now, it’ll be easy back by tomorrow morning. And if not, you can always fly.”
Tiren was aghast. Amrado had an answer for everything. Everything but the astute feeling inside him that aiding Amrado was wrong.
Amrado was leaning forward in his chair impatiently, waiting for Tiren to give his reply. The front of his hair had crept out of its tied-back state in the night, and Amrado hadn’t bothered to fix it. He wasn’t worried about it now, though it hung about his eyes in a prickly-looking condition.
“Your hair,” Tiren said slowly, “looks absurd.”
The look on Amrado’s face was enough to make anyone smile. He was clearly not expecting that remark.
“I’m a light sleeper,” Amrado shrugged, “and you snore.”
“Faeries don’t snore.”
“You do.”
“Are you saying I’m not a faerie?”
Amrado leaned back, almost reclining in his seat.
“I’m just pointing out that you might be a faerie hybrid. After all, your father--”
Amrado’s jest was cut short by his seat tipping a bit too far backwards. Amrado and his chair tumbled to the ground, laying in an untidy heap. Tiren laughed.
“Admit it, elf, you’re the hardest sleeper I know, and me snoring (or not snoring) wasn’t the reason you stayed up all night. You were worried about Miradelle, and all the dastardly things that could have happened to her. Well, am I right?”
“Perhaps,” Amrado muttered, picking up his chair from the floor, “you may be right.”
“Or I may be dead on.”
“That too.”
Tiren smiled, shaking his head.
“If you’re going to get insomnia every night until Miradelle is safe, I suppose I’ve got to help you.”
“Really?” Amrado said, his eyes shining.
“Yes. Now let’s get going before I change my mind.”
Amrado raced to his room and quickly returned with a lumpy bag.
“I took the liberty to pack already. I hope you don’t mind, but I packed for you too, seeing as you didn’t have anything to begin with.”
“It’s all right, I expected as much.” Tiren sighed.
Amrado opened the bag and tossed Tiren a clean shirt.
“Here you go. Now don’t lose this one. We want to make a good impression on Miradelle.”
“And the goblins, and the guards, and Hadar,” Tiren grumbled, putting on the shirt, “Why do I let you talk me into these things?”
“Because I’m always right and I never steer you wrong.”
“Of course.”
“Daddy!!” came a shrill cry from below the treehouse.
Amrado’s eyes grew wide, and he raced to the door.
“What is it?” he called.
“Ronie climbed too high again! He’s stuck!” Florese yelled back up.
Tiren laughed.
“Are you sure your children will be all right in your absence?”
Amrado nodded, blushing a bit.
“They’ll be fine, as long as Burrone stops trying to climb trees. He knows very well that he can’t get back down, but he tries so hard to fit in. I wish he wouldn’t.”
“I know how that feels.” Tiren sighed.
Amrado smiled sympathetically, descending the ladder.
“At least you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” he said quietly, disappearing from view.
Tiren nodded absentmindedly.
“I suppose I won’t.”

* * * * *
Captain Galivane squinted his eyes against the sunlight, scanning the horizon carefully. His horse stamped its foot impatiently, eager to get out of the cold morning air. They had been on the road to the faerie city since the night before, desperately trying to find clues to their queen’s whereabouts. So far, they had found nothing. Now they were on the rocky borders of their country, close to the neighboring land of Rowane. More than halfway to their destination. Or rather, Queen Miradelle’s destination.
“Captain!” called a scout, “The rocks ahead, there’s something there!”
He pointed, and Captain Galivane looked closely. There it was: a glint of light flashing on the ground. Like a sword or a piece of armor reflecting the sunlight. He was a bit upset that he hadn’t seen it first, but quickly brushed the thought aside and galloped to the scene.
There lay the body of one of the knights, at the bottom of a hill. Captain Galivane dismounted and put a hand to the knight’s pulse.
“Dead.” he announced.
“Here’s another.” someone called, uncovering the other body behind a nearby rock.
“So much for the queen’s escort.” Captain Galivane murmured.
“Captain, weren’t there three knights?”
Captain Galivane looked up, trying to recollect. So many knights went on so many different missions nowadays. He failed to remember exactly how many knights were sent with the queen.
“Were there?” he asked, “Were there three?”
“I believe there were,” the soldier answered, “That faerie knight, Sir Tiren I think. Didn’t he come too?
“He probably did,” said another soldier, “they were heading to his home city.
“And it’s just the sort of mission he’d go on,” added the first soldier, “after all, he did know the queen better than any of the other knights.”
“Then where is he?” Captain Galivane muttered, more to himself than to his soldiers.
“He had wings,” a scout ventured, “it could be that he and the queen both flew away, if they were indeed in danger.”
“No,” said the captain, “Sir Tiren would never run away from a fight. No knight would. They would stand and combat the offenders, giving the queen a chance to escape.”
“Then why didn’t he?” asked one of the more daring soldiers.
“That remains to be seen.” Captain Galivane answered, “Spread out. I want the whole area searched. If anyone finds anything of importance, report to me at once.”
The soldiers and scouts quickly obeyed, covering a good amount of land in a short amount of time. It didn’t take them long to discover the cliff, as there were clear hoofmarks in the ground for them to follow. Captain Galivane frowned, peering down into the abyss below.
Rushing water. That was a bad sign. Faerie wings were dysfunctional when wet. If Sir Tiren or Queen Miradelle had taken a tumble down there…
“Captain, look!”
One of the scouts had discovered a piece of cloth hanging on a bush nearby.
“It’s a…shirt.” the scout said hesitantly.
Galivane took it in his hands, examining it further.
“But who does it belong to?” a soldier cried.
“My guess is Sir Tiren, it looks faerie-made.” Galivane said.
He shook his head sadly, fearing the worst.
“Well,” he continued, “It appears to me that Sir Tiren removed his shirt to jump into the river below; perhaps to save Queen Miradelle, or merely to escape their attackers. Either way, I don’t remember him being much of a swimmer.”
“Then we are to count him as lost, sir?” a young soldier asked.
Captain Galivane smiled kindly at the boy.
“Sometimes when you follow the call of duty it leads you to places you’d rather not think about. But these three knights fell defending their queen, and died with honor. That’s the best death a knight could wish for.”
“That will be little comfort to their families.” the soldier whispered, barely audible.
But Captain Galivane wasn’t listening. He was pondering how to break the news to his king. The queen was gone, most likely dead. King Deveron would be inconsolable after this new bit of information. Miradelle’s father, King Syrrien of the Sky Faeries, would be heartbroken too. And if either king blamed the other for this unfortunate accident it could mean trouble. The faeries and the people of Albor had never quite gotten along in the first place, and the faerie king’s daughter was looked upon as their last hope for reconciliation. Now, the kingdoms could be thrust headlong into another brutal war. Captain Galivane thought of his small infant son. He had so hoped that he would grow up in a time of peace, but it seemed like that was not to be the case.
“Well, men,” he finally said, “let’s head back home. We’ve seen enough.”


* * * * *

“Come on, Burrone,” Amrado coaxed, “just give me your hand.”
Burrone Brightleaf was clinging vehemently to a thick branch, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Ronie, open your eyes!” Florese called from the forest floor below.
Burrone cautiously opened one eye, peering at his father.
“Give me your hand, Ronie,” Amrado said gently, “It will be all right.”
Burrone reached out an unsteady hand, and grabbed his father’s shoulder. Amrado put his arm around his son.
“That’s it, I’ve got you. Now hold on tight.”
Amrado slowly lowered himself—and Burrone—to the ground. Florese ran to Burrone and hugged him tightly.
“Never do that again!” she scolded, “ S’pposing you’d fallen?”
Amrado smiled at his children’s antics. He hated to leave them so soon, but it was for their own good. Soon they would all be together again, just like a real family. They needed a real family.
Tiren had taken the liberty of hobbling out to the porch and lowering himself down in the wooden lift. Amrado spied his friend a ways off and waved.
“I’m afraid you’ve missed all the action, Tiren,” Amrado called, “But if we’re lucky, there won’t be an encore.”
He turned to his daughter.
“Keep an eye on your brother, Florese. Make sure he stops climbing trees.”
“You aren’t going away again, are you, Daddy?” Burrone asked, suddenly suspicious.
“I’m afraid I’ve got to, son,” Amrado answered, “For your mother. She’s been kidnapped, you see—“
“Kidnapped!?” both twins shouted.
“And I’m the only one who can save her.” Amrado finished.
Tiren rolled his eyes, but luckily, no one noticed.
“Can we come too?” Florese asked, excited.
“Oh no!” Amrado cried, “You’re staying here with your Auntie Linadia. This is much too dangerous a quest for you.”
He turned to Tiren.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Well, I haven’t a weapon, and I doubt I can limp all the way to the Black Woods. Any chance you have any horses?”
“I have mine, and he’s a strong fellow. Considering you hardly weigh more than a human child, he should be able to bear us both. At least, until your leg eases up. And as for weapons, I’ll just grab my sword and you can use my backup. Will that suffice?”
“I suppose,” Tiren replied, “But bring daggers too, just in case.”
“Don’t worry, children. I’ll be back soon.” Amrado laughed upon perceiving the twins’ grief-stricken faces.
“When?” Burrone demanded.
“I don’t know, Ronie,” Amrado responded, “however long it takes to help your mother.”
“I’ll miss you.” Burrone said, staring at his father.
“Take care of your sister.” Amrado returned, ruffling his son’s hair. He hugged and kissed them both, then took off with Tiren to fetch his horse.
Burrone sat brooding, throwing a few sticks to demonstrate his frustration.
“Don’t worry, Ronie,” Florese said assuringly, “he’ll come back soon. And maybe he’ll bring Mommy back with him!”
Burrone shook his head.
“Something’s wrong, Flora. I don’t think he’ll come back soon. I don’t think he’ll come back at all.”
“What do you mean? How do you know?” his sister demanded.
The 5-year-old boy sighed.
“I can’t explain it. I just know, that’s all.”

* * * *

Amrado and Tiren rode quickly through the woods until they reached the open moors.
“The weight of a human child, eh?” Tiren mused.
“Hmm...what?” Amrado replied distantly.
“You think I weigh the same as a child?”
“I do?”
“That’s what you said in Evergreen Forest.”
“Oh. I suppose I did say that,” Amrado answered, “but I wouldn’t know if it was actually true or not. My own children weigh far less than the other children in the village, because of the faerie blood in them. Burrone gets tossed about quite a bit by the other boys, consequently.”
“That’s awful.” Tiren said quietly.
“Not at all, it toughens him up.”
Tiren shook his head.
“That isn’t always a good thing.”
Amrado shrugged.
“He never complains. They’re his friends.”
He focused his attention on the ground ahead of him, and was quiet for a few moments. Tiren tapped him on the shoulder. Amrado spun around.
“What?”
“What are you thinking about?” Tiren asked.
“Hadar. That wizard. I’d never heard of him before I joined the knighthood. I thought no one knew where he lived.”
“Well,” Tiren explained, “No one knows much about him, except perhaps the faerie king and a few ancient dragons. I do know that Hadar hates all faeries, and was banished for killing one.”
“Banished for killing a faerie? People talk as if he murdered millions.”
“It wasn’t just any faerie,” Tiren replied softly, “It was my father, actually.”
Amrado stared at Tiren in bewilderment.
“Hadar killed your father?”
Tiren nodded.
“It happened many years ago,” he said hesitantly, “My father was the guardian of the watchtower down in Dapplewood. Hadar decided he needed some papers inside and…well, it’s a lengthy tale. And, like I said, this occurred a very long time ago. I was only twelve.”
“It must have been hard for you.” Amrado sympathized.
“Yes, the death of a parent is always catastrophic, particularly to a young child. I was old enough to bear it tolerably, but…”
“But what?”
“Your children…they aren’t. Five is a dreadful age to lose a parent. Just old enough to remember, yet young enough to forget. Needless to say, you’d better come back from this mission, Amrado.”
“I will.” Amrado said nonchalantly, but Tiren could tell his friend was worried.
“But perhaps,” Amrado continued upon reflection, “just in case some unforeseen circumstance occurs, and something terribly appalling happens to me…would you make sure the twins are all right? Look after them a bit?”
“Of course.”
“Just in case, you see.”
“Yes,” Tiren responded, “Just in case.”
“So, tell me more about Hadar. What happened to him after…well, you know.”
“Ever since he was banished,” Tiren continued, “he’s been sitting sulking in his crumbling fortress of Korin, in the very darkest part of the woods. At least, that’s what everyone assumes. Anyone who strays too close to Korin, or the Black Woods in general rarely returns in one piece.”
“I’ve heard that too.” Amrado replied nervously.
“The Black Woods is also home to many goblins, trolls, and dragons, which hate faeries as much as Hadar does, but haven’t the power to do anything about it.”
Amrado grinned.
“Monsters, wizards, old castles. Sounds like an adventure.”
They were both quiet for the rest of the ride, each keeping to his own thoughts. It was usually discouraged for Domëi Knights to assume things, but Amrado and Tiren couldn’t help feeling that Hadar might have gotten some army of goblins or trolls together. If so, it would be more dangerous to approach the Black Woods than they had anticipated. It would have to somehow be done in secret. Amrado would have no trouble blending in and sneaking quietly past foul creatures, but Tiren’s eyes shone dimly even when he shut them. In a forest of darkness, it would be a dead giveaway. Tiren was set against being left behind, so they finally decided to have Tiren fly over the trees and meet Amrado at Korin. Of course, that was providing that they didn’t run into any monsters. They were well aware of the danger, but preferred not to mention anything about it. They were trained to identify problems and solutions, thinking quick on their feet. All Domëi Knights were.
Amrado weaved swiftly in and out of the black trees, in deep concentration, blending his natural gifts of camouflage, agility, and alertness with his Domëi training. He knew Tiren would reach Korin before him, but he didn’t necessarily care. He was more concerned for the safety of his ex-wife. After all, their separation didn’t have anything to do with her being unhappy. The two of them had gotten along fine, considering the vast culturary and physical differences. Sky faeries were completely different from high elves. Those wispy, dreamy beings sometimes seemed like they belonged to another world, one full of light and beauty. Amrado had no idea what Miradelle had seen in him to make her consent to marriage. He didn’t even remember how he had summoned up the courage to ask her. But he did, and they were married within a fortnight in Evergreen Forest, without the knowledge of her royal relations. This caused an uproar, but it was hardly Amrado’s fault. Miradelle had never told him that she was a princess, nor that her father was the king of the sky faeries. She particularly failed to mention that she was all but betrothed to King Deveron of Albor, and the fate of more than one kingdom hung in the marriage. An alliance with the rustic forest elves was unheard of, especially for the princess of Isindryne. So the match was forcefully dissolved, and Miradelle was sent to Albor to marry King Deveron instead.
Amrado sighed, focusing back on where he was. It was not the Domëi way to get distracted that easily. It was, however, the elfin way to go on long and complicated thought leads. The elves were a simple species, taking delight in every detail of life, and living most of the time with their head in the clouds. That was another way Amrado was different from the other elves. He cared about the outside world, and wanted to keep it safe. That was why he joined the Domëi Knights in the first place. Aside from the fact that the headquarters were in Arthenyarn, and it was the only way he could get away with seeing Miradelle on a daily basis.
Amrado stopped, studying the ground intently. Footprints. Barely visible, but still there. Faerie footprints were light, but he could still make out their slender shape by the faint light penetrating through the trees. It would not be so for long. The deeper into the Black Woods you went, the darker it got. The darkness made you the perfect prey for all sorts of creatures. That was why you were considered dead once you set foot inside. Elves could see fairly well in the dark, but to get through without attracting the notice of predators, well, that was another story. The best idea was to keep moving.
Amrado stealthily followed the footprints as best as he could. He was alarmed to discover more than a few pairs. There were actually many more than he could count, and it was beginning to unnerve him. It was as if someone had kidnapped a thousand faeries instead of one. Then again, there were plenty of fire faeries and wood faeries living in colonies on the outskirts of Albor. If someone had raided those, the news wouldn’t reach Arthenyarn until about a week later.
It’s like he’s planning an extermination, he thought, he’s always hated faeries, and now he’s acting on it. If he hurts Miradelle…
Amrado painfully thrust the thought aside, and tried to focus on the trail. It wasn’t hard to follow. There were plenty of torn garments and discarded trinkets to observe. Once, he even found a faerie’s corpse. He almost didn’t see it in the dimness, for the faerie’s light had gone out when he died. Amrado, momentarily shaken, thought of passing the body by with a shudder. But he knew that if it were Tiren in his place, he would stop and lay the man to rest. He hadn’t the time to dig a grave, but he did pull the faerie out of the crude path. Setting him down under a tree, he pulled a blanket out of his sack and covered the body. He then stood up and tried to shake himself out of his anxiety, hoping that there would be no more corpses. It sent a chill up his spine, for, even being accustomed to death, he had not yet been accustomed to seeing a brightly shining creature lay dark and degraded in the mud.
Being mentally distracted by the phenomenon, a sudden noise startled him. It was a sort of hissing, like a snake’s, only louder. At first, Amrado was afraid it was a dragon, but soon the hissing multiplied, as if about twenty other creatures were making the same noise. Knowing that dragons never traveled in groups, Amrado dismissed that idea, relieved, but still fearing the unknown. He drew his sword, not knowing where to point it. The hissing dissolved into a sort of throaty giggling sound, echoing in all directions.
“Who are you?” Amrado whispered, “Show yourselves.”
The laughing stopped, and a single voice was heard.
“We are those whose lights never burned. We are those whose lives held no meaning. We were outcasts, and we were shunned. Now, we are united. We are the dark faeries.”
Amrado had heard of the dark faeries before, but he had never seen one in person. They were faeries without lights. Blind from birth, or sometimes blinded by someone later on. Since a faerie’s light came from its eyes, being blinded was a very traumatizing event. The light fought in vain to keep shining, and the effect ended up looking like an electric light bulb flickering madly before finally going out. When this happened, a faerie became genetically altered by the intense burning of the light into a crooked shadow of its former self. Its wings, which absorbed most of the light, became blackened and ripped, and utterly unusable. Next to distort were the delicate hands, forming into grimy, bony limbs with long and groping fingers. What the eyes looked like depended on the manner of blindness, but usually they were clouded and bloodshot, sometimes entirely white. These dark faeries were feared not only because of their looks, but also because of their desperation and the fact that they found their way about by touching things.
Amrado was more curious than afraid of these creatures, but their negative attitude in general was dangerous to cross. He would have to choose his words carefully.
“I am Sir Amrado Brightleaf of the Domëi Knights. I am looking for a colony of faeries that was forcibly led into this wood. We suspect the wizard Hadar has abducted them and has foul purposes in mind.”
The dark faeries made a sound in-between a hum and a moan, then came into view.
Amrado tried hard not to stare, even though it would make no difference. The dark faeries were even more mutated than he had imagined. They almost resembled goblins, but for their facial features and long, unmanaged hair. They came closer and closer, but Amrado didn’t budge. He squeezed his eyes shut as the dark faeries reached out their dirty, distorted hands and began to feel his form. This was what drew people away from the faeries most of all. Without their sight, they felt instead. The trees, the grass, themselves, in order to establish a certain shape of an object, they needed to touch it first. As a Domëi Knight, Amrado had been taught to endure many things, but the mass of hands crawling all over him was almost more than he could bear. Still, he knew that if he tried to run, the faeries would overpower him in a heartbeat, and he would be at their mercy. Knowing the dark faeries, that mercy wouldn’t be much.
“Elf, are you?” one faerie finally said.
“Yes.” Amrado whispered weakly.
“Do you fear us?” asked a younger, female faerie.
Her lips twisted into a smile. It was impossible to tell whether she was threatening him or was merely amused by his reaction to being touched by her and the others.
“I will not lie,” Amrado answered, “I have never encountered dark faeries before, though I have heard some about you. I hope you will not blame me for my weakness.”
The faeries laughed, and drew back their hands. The faerie that had first addressed him spoke again.
“The other faeries shunned us for our appearance, and drove us here to die. But we did not. We survived, despite our weakness. You may someday be accustomed to us, and be able to look at us without fear or condemnation. Until then, we excuse this fear. You do have reason to fear us, but not as much as our prideful, vain cousins of the mountains and woods. However, their suffering pains us, for many were our friends. We offer you our guidance and protection, Sir Amrado Brightleaf. We will lead you to Korin, if you will it.”
Amrado was relieved.
“Thank you, friends. Your help is most welcome.”
The dark faeries were surprised and pleased at being called friends by an outsider, and they adopted an almost cheerful disposition as they led Amrado through the woods. Overall, they preferred the elves over faeries, for elves were more like them in the sense that they spent time around nature and liked to be thorough about details. Yet inside, they knew how different they were, and how rare the occasion was that an elf would trust them enough to choose their company, even if it was only for a little while.
Soon, they came to a clearing, in which stood a large rock wall. There was a metal gate leading inside, where a tall fortress was visible. Apart from the sun’s rays, a faint light was projecting from the castle itself.
The faeries!
“This is as far as we dare go,” the dark faerie said, “we’ll be waiting right here if you need us to lead you back.”
“Good luck.” said the female faerie shyly.
“Thank you.” Amrado said smiling, even though he knew they couldn’t see it, “I would like that very much.”
He walked around the wall until he found Tiren, who had been waiting for him.
“You got here relatively quickly.” Tiren remarked.
Amrado smirked.
“The trail was easy to follow, and I had a little help from some distant relatives of yours. Dark faeries.”
“Dark faeries? I hope they didn’t…disturb you.” Tiren said, almost apologetically.
“It took a little getting used to, but they led me straight here, and were very helpful.”
He did not say ‘friendly’, but Tiren guessed what he meant.
“They are a queer lot, and we never understood them. It’s best to just stay out of their way.”
“I suppose so,” said Amrado, “but I’ve a feeling they like to have outsiders to talk to all the same. If you are civil to them, they become civil in return.”
“Perhaps. But did their appearance not unnerve you?”
“I’d seen worse,” Amrado said, shrugging it off, “Have you figured out a way inside this fortress yet?”
“I could fly through a window.” Tiren sighed, “but I don’t know about you.”
“I’ll climb.” Amrado decided.
Elves were good climbers, for they spent a considerable amount of time in the forest trees. Amrado was no exception. Within minutes he had cleared the wall.
“Up here.” Tiren whispered, indicating to an open window.
Amrado groaned. It was about four or five feet away. He would have to jump.
“Can you make it?” Tiren asked.
“I’d rather not think about that.” Amrado replied, slowly raising himself to his feet. He didn’t look down, and he didn’t want to. Standing on top of the wall, he braced himself to jump. With a silent prayer to the high faeries and the One, he took a flying leap toward the castle window, barely catching the edge. Tiren pulled him up, and the two of them paused to catch their breath. The room looked like a storage area with extra wood, timber, and nails for building. Amrado sat on a pile of wood, and Tiren took a seat on the windowsill. He rubbed his sore leg, and began to review their situation.
“The faeries are probably in the dungeons.” Tiren said.
“No, I saw their light from the gates,” Amrado replied, a bit out of breath,
“They have to be outside somewhere.”
“Then let’s find them,” Tiren decided, “After all, we aren’t doing any good just sitting here. If we can somehow get to the roof—yes, that’ll be the best view.”
Amrado shook his head sadly.
“I’m very near-sighted. You’d best go without me.”
“What? No, we’re in this together, remember? You may not be far-sighted, but you elves do have better hearing than sky faeries. And it’s the hearing that will count in the end.” Tiren argued.
“Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I’ll try my best.” Amrado answered, trying to sound cheerful.
The two knights made their way to the roof, Tiren flying, and Amrado climbing. He nearly fell several times (not all elves are perfect), but Tiren was able to catch hold of him and hover for just long enough for the elf to regain control. Sky faeries are very light, and, as a result, can’t carry heavy things during flight for more than a few moments before their strength gives out.
Finally, they made it to the roof. Tiren surveyed the ground below quickly.
“There!” he said, pointing to the courtyard below.
Amrado hastily peered over the edge.
There they were, a thousand wood faeries, more or less, being forced into two separate directions by goblins with whips.
“Why don’t they fly away?” Amrado asked.
“He’s clipped their wings.” Tiren said with a shudder.
Amrado’s eyes grew wide.
“The fiend.” he whispered.
“They’re separating the men from the women and children.” Tiren murmured.
“Forced labor, perhaps. But for what?”
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Tiren pressed.
Amrado closed his eyes and listened intently.
“2898, 2801, 2802…” he heard a cruel voice say.
“Numbers…in sequence.” Amrado muttered.
“Names?” the voice continued.
“Vatarie Springwater.”
“Isaidone Redtree.”
“Avion Ariendell, with children Eryndor and Féya.” several voices sounded.
“Assigning cells, I think.” Amrado told Tiren.
“2803, 2804, 2805. Names?”
“Mira Starwing.”
Amrado’s eyes snapped open.
“That’s Miradelle!” he cried.
If he were a faerie, he would have flown down in an instant.
“Not so loud!” Tiren hissed, “What number does she have?”
“2803.”
“Write it down.”
“How could I forget? It’ll be branded in my mind forever.”
“Alright, I’ll write it down.” Tiren said simply, wishing that Amrado was not, as he seemed, still hopelessly in love with his ex-wife.
“Can you see her face, Tiren? Is she very frightened?” Amrado said, alarmed.
“Did she sound frightened?”
“No, not exactly, but she’s always been good at putting on.” Amrado returned.
Tiren shook his head.
“She looks like a very strong woman, a well-trained leader. She’s kept her dignity, even though they’ve taken her flight away.”
“Oh save us all! Why did it have to be her?” Amrado said ruefully, recalling bittersweet memories.
“I’m sorry, Amrado. This must be hard for you,” Tiren sympathized, “But look at the bright side. King Deveron will surely declare war on Hadar and his minions, and then nothing like this will ever happen again.”
Elves were not so easily given to optimism as faeries were, and Amrado was wishing that he could change the past five years of his life, when Miradelle had left him with twin babies and no instruction book.
“We’d better get back to Arthenyarn and report all this.” Tiren advised.
Amrado didn’t move.
“Amrado, She’s not the only one in danger. There are maybe ten hundred other faeries bound to her same fate, and the number of guards has to at least match that number to keep order. There’s no way we can get past them.”
Amrado stared at Miradelle tenderly, a tear making its way down his face. Tiren put his arm around his friend.
“You can’t save her by yourself,” he whispered gently, “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. She’s a queen, remember?”
Amrado reluctantly left his post, and he and Tiren made their way back to the window. Once inside, Amrado found himself face to face with Hadar himself!
Hadar was just as surprised to see Amrado as Amrado was to see him, but it showed only for a moment. In an instant, Hadar’s staff sent out a wave of power that sent Amrado hurling into the wall. The magic locked onto him and pressed his limbs against the stones, pinning him tight.
Tiren appeared outside the window, startled to see his friend held fast by the wizard’s magic.
“Fly, Tiren! Get back to Arthenyarn!” Amrado yelled desperately.
Tiren dodged another blast of power from Hadar’s staff, and flew off into the distance. He hated leaving any knight behind on a mission, especially his best friend, but he was duty-bound and outnumbered.
“I’ll be back for you.” he said aloud through clenched teeth as he flew through the clouds.
Hadar studied Amrado intently.
“So, we have a little spy on our hands, do we? Do you know what I do with spies, Elf?”
Hadar pressed the magic harder on Amrado’s throat, nearly choking him. Amrado stopped struggling, looking at Hadar with rebellious eyes.
“I’m looking for my wife. Mira Starwing. She’s a sky faerie.”
“We don’t have any sky faeries, Elf.” Hadar replied, pressing harder.
“Yes you do,” Amrado gasped, “She’s in cell 2803. You can do what you like to me, but I need to see her first.”
Hadar raised an eyebrow.
“You’ll see her, spy. You’ll see her every day from now on, in the dungeons of Korin. Guards, take him to cell 2803, and keep him there until further notice.”
He released Amrado into the hands of the goblins, and they led the elf away.