The Last Elven King

The Elvish guard eyed the mysteriously cloaked figure in front of him with suspicion. He hid his features well, but allowed a spackle of moonlight to illuminate his strong chin and stern mouth. The guard assessed he was a traveller but the seal of Theolas (carried by all Elven citizens) was authentic. A black leather glove emerged from beneath the cloak. His palm outstretched showed his obvious impatience and amplified his sense of urgency. The guard shrugged and relinquished the ring dangling from a fine gold chain. He waved the stranger through the city gates.

The cloaked vision padded past the guard without looking back. The guard could feel the piercing gaze of the man as he walked by. Once the stranger was out of earshot the guard signalled the hidden Elven ranger hiding in the trees to show himself.

“Khil din” he spoke the order to follow the stranger in Elvish. The cloaked traveller knew the ranger was hiding, and he knew he would be pursued. Reaching out with the eyes of magic, he searched for his hunter. He made hand gesture beneath his cloak only known to those with the gift. He reached further. After a few moments he found his target, the pursuer following just inside of arrow range. It would not be an easy task to loose an elf in the dark, for a normal person, but the cloaked man knew everything there was to know about the race. Elves used heat to see through the darkness, not light.

The cloaked figure felt the familiar surge of mana course through his veins. He concentrated on the spells he prepared making his selection carefully. He dashed into an ally and flattened his body against the wall. He cast aside his cloak, exposing his full form. His intricate black leather suit and soft soled leather boots melted into the shadows. Various leather and valour pouches hung from his belt, the spicy scent of unknown spell components tickled the strangers’ senses. He reached for a pouch. Untying the lace he mumbled words of magic, bending and twisting the ethers to his will. His blood began to surge. Pinching a small amount of silver dust between his forefinger and thumb, he breathed steadily despite his fluttering heart. He raised his fingers to his lips and softly whispered words of magic, his breath caressing the spell components to life.

A long shadow stretched around the corner of the ally, the ranger had caught up. The spellbinder tilted his head to glance at the encroaching shadow. He smirked and blew the dust from his fingers.

The ranger rounded the corner with caution. He saw nothing. The traveller had somehow disappeared. The Elves almond shaped eyes widened in surprise. Furiously, he rounded on his heel and hurried back to the captain of the guard to make a report of his failed pursuit.

The spellbinder relaxed, his spell fading away. Ensuring the way was clear, he wrapped himself in his warm travelling cloak once more and quietly walked to his final destination.

****

The tall, slender elf stood alone on his balcony overlooking the kingdom of Rovanorne. A cool summer breeze brushed his face, his long blonde hair floating amidst his shoulders. A cascade of Emerald green peered from almond shaped eyes as he watched a night owl on the hunt for a midnight meal, its shadow pacing by the full silver moon several times before he turned to leave the peaceful scenery. He brushed aside the gossamer sheers with a delicate graceful hand. He decided to leave the thick silk curtains open in favour of the beautiful moonlight.

Kalthilas entered his chambers; he made his way to the giant ornate bed to retire. Already in his eveningwear and barefoot he slid back the down-feather duvet and perfect Elven silk sheets and lowered himself down to rest. Getting comfortable, he let out a long drawn out sigh. He was tired and the day was long. Tomorrow promised to be much the same. Regardless, a prince needed his sleep just like anyone else. He closed his eyes and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

The slumbering elf didn’t see the dark shadow appear on the balcony, nor did he hear the gossamer sheers being cast aside by a black leather gauntlet. The shadowy figure crept to the side of the royal bed. Kalthilas stirred in his sleep. The figure stood, unmoving. Sure the prince was truly asleep; he reached to his side and brandished his sword. Drawing his sword made a noise, enough wake the prince. Kalthilas gasped and braced himself as he watched the flash of steel fly through the air in front of his face. He opened his eyes. A man dressed in black leather and a dark coloured traveling cloak stood over him. The prince looked around trying to comprehend the situation. The brandished sword lay on his side table. He looked back at a smiling face.

“Arthalas?” The prince recognized his friend and made an audible sigh of relief.

Arthalas removed his cloak, which kept him warm and shrouded during his travels. The heavy cloak fell to the floor in pile with a noticeable “thump”. The prince recognized his friends features now that the moonlight had a chance to reach the mans face. His slightly pointed ears and almond shaped eyes told of his elven heritage, but to elves he was marred with the strong scruffy chin and muscular physique of his human side. With fluid grace, Arthalas effortlessly removed his dark clothes making his olive tanned skin exposed to the pleasant midnight breeze. Kalthilas starred in awe over his friend’s physique, he didn’t think it marred Arthalas, the prince thought it made him perfect. He noted beads of perspiration on his friends skin silently telling him of his long exhaustive travels. Where did he come from? What has he seen? Kalthilas had to know all there was to tell about his friend’s travels.

“How did you…” Kalthilas was silenced by the gentle touch of a finger pressed against his lips. Arthalas lowered himself onto the prince’s chest, his loving embrace welcomed by Kalthilas’ warm inviting touch.