Inhorèm: The Higher Elves

CHAPTER I: THE SECRET MOUNTAIN (1) A ravenous threat that seclude the nightfall on a whim. A fallen garment from the moons beholding its lonely dress for the innocent ones. A divine land, listed as the antiquity of the legends. Suspended over the tallest back, the pinnacle of the hidden mountains. The terrains of infinity; the household of the elven race. A world of beautiful tenderness, a sweet nostalgia throughout the texture of the highs. Throughout the texture of the clouds. Throughout the rays of the sun, and the softness of the wind. A moment suspended in time; swifting and waning the triumph of becoming alive. Therein a little boy rested, in a pinnacle of all these undiscovered poems, and lost himself in the ponder of the sunset. His name wasn't much to him. For what was most valuable within his being was the most trustworthy land. That land of Inhorèm, the highest area in the north. The country of the high elves, who were hiding behind a huge mountain. The country of lost legends; those that claimed the power and rule of giants, fairies, unique dragons and species located only after the mountain. An extinct legend, among the laurels of destiny. Encapsulated and isolated, from the world and dimension. Every afternoon, as was customary, the boy bowed on the highest mound in his country; His face rested on it, and although it was only a small protuberance of the humblest land in the Northeast Country, it glimpsed from the surface the showiness of a hidden mountain. A legendary mountain, longing for the legends of the higher elves; predicted in the depths of those orange-faced sunsets. With yellowish eyes, saying goodbye to the dance of an unquenchable star of fire, and blessed. "Elenfev Rianor Arab!" exclaims a woman. "To eat!" The boy turned his gaze quickly, before the darkness caught him. Although he was sure that the insecurity of the night was less dark than the power of his mother. "I'm coming mother," exclaims the child. "You don't have to scream" “I have already mentioned to you umpteen times the darkness that lies in those nearby forests,” the woman exclaims. “You like to play with fire. Those beasts do not rest. You do not understand?" "I know mother, shadows and so on," exclaims the boy, in variety. "You don't roll my eyes!" exclaims the woman. "I want a smile, and I want it right away." As he could, the little boy got involved from the patio of his house towards the entrance of his home. A home made from a giant mushroom, as expected from that small region. The boy walked through his hallway, avoiding his younger siblings who ran and shouted everywhere, and sat in his main dining room. Still hasty before the showiness of that light. Still flooded with that curious call belonging to the beyond, and to the unequaled mystery. "What is it that draws your attention so much about that land?" exclaims the mother, serving the dishes to her children. "Mother is - only the legends and the writings," exclaims the child. "The giants, the floating animals, the high elves!" "I don't know why I told you that story honestly" exclaims the woman. "Mother, how are you not going to be astonished" accuses the child. "Why are you never happy? It is the magic land! It is the blessed land! " "It's just a myth, and nothing more." Exclaims the woman. “It is a land full of corrupt politicians, and pagan counts. Led, by the way, by a mediocre king. That he does not steal to feel sorry for the land closest to him. "Mother, but we must go there then!" exclaims the child. “We should get our things and– "How many times do we have to talk about this?" exclaims the woman. “I don't know what it is or what you see in that land. Where has this king been while our houses fell from the dark winds? Where was this reign when the beasts brought down the roofs of our allies? Where was this king when our land remained and continues to remain in poverty? Hidden behind his mystical mountain. This man forgot his origins, and forgot where the first mother of his own land belongs. He has hidden himself on the mountain from him, away from all evil and has created his own good. Away from his brothers. Away from his allies Full of riches and all the grace that has blessed the highlands for them. He has chosen the mystery, and there he will prevail. There is no fair way for the people of Riu to pay love or tribute to Inhorém. In any case, we should hate them, and their rulers as well. " "Mother, they have not abandoned us," exclaims the boy. "Oh yeah?" exclaims the woman. "How are you so sure about that boy?" "Mother, I feel it in the wind, I feel it in the sun." "Enough of these antics." Exclaims the woman. "Let's keep eating." “Mother but we can go. "Understand child, we will never go to that land!" exclaims the woman. “We do not belong to that land, and we never will! " The boy then, remained silent. After for a while, he got up from the table, and ran to his room, leaving his plate intact. While the mother was ignorant of what was happening, she forced her four other children to keep the food. Indifferent, before the disappointment caused in the mind of her eldest son. The boy fell asleep between tears and regret; and when he regained consciousness, night had fallen hard and unceasing. His mother had placed a blanket on him while he slept, but she hadn't woken him up since she had generated her tantrum. He felt bad about himself, and sleep was lost from his council since he woke up from his depressing slumber. He got up in the mood to wake her mother up and apologize to her, but when he did this, a terrible sound began to play behind him. Terrified, he tried to ignore the sound; convinced to be an arbitrary situation. But the sound rang out again, this time louder. It seemed to come from his window, so the boy decided to light the flower from him in the form of light, which gave a faint greenish-pink glow to the surroundings. Horns then seized the window; this was the sound that emerged from the incessant blow. This was the call, from the window of his room; clothed in a whisper, and a faint rustle of leaves in the near distance. The one that was further outside the house, flooded in tree nests, flooded in nature nests. Reflected everywhere, the call of a child; a child who had awakened, to dream. His consciousness rose, and his nerves grew, to weigh under the stars, the divine witness of his presences. Dancing in the light of Kepler's moons, the boy poked his head out the window, and in the distance a shiny-horned reindeer was seen among the tree nests; and had mounted on him, a guardian spirit. A superior spirit.