Songs of fire and light

Chapter 4: Lady in the forest

~3rd pov~

Leon woke in a fit of rage and pain. Once again he aimed to claim the spirit and failed. Miserly one might add. 

Glancing about, he found himself back in the confinements of his tent. Body wrapped in gaze from head to toe. 

A painful crack urged him to refrain from standing. In the corner, he saw his seven-year-old son, Licht playing with Yaghen. 

Reiner, taken note of his lords state, rushed to his side. “My lord, are you in pain?” A glass of water at hand offered to his lord. Due a raspy throat, he accepted without quarrel. A straight indication, how much his lordships pride had torn. 

The young boy looked up towards his father, wooden carved wolf in hand. A gift carved by his father in honor of his birth. Wood chipping was, nor will be one of his talents, the mount resembled more a deformed cow than Helios. Something his beloved concubine relished teasing him about. 

Those precious days were in the past now. The birth of Licht bore heavy upon the young lady. After half a dozen miscarriages, the poor lass died only minutes after the birth of their second son. The poor nameless boy soon followed few nights later. 

The loss of his mother last summer left the poor boy deserted. His father rarely minds him. An heir and nothing further. Left in the care of his nursemaid and father’s vessels.  Yaghen most, having a childish mind of his own. Plays hours with no end with the lonely boy. Something all parties enjoy. 

Leon grew cold and neglectful. Forsaken any duties of a ruler and father. 

~

The spirit roused from the most pleasant dream when she felt another enter her domain. Something distinct about this visitor. A stranger, never entered before.  Something however about him held some kind of familiarity.  Yet his presence was like a single petal floating through the cool springs night sky. Almost left unnoticed. 

A child? She acknowledged, stunned. Unable to see anyone accompanying the small boy. 

She let out a silent groan, annoyed when she saw familiar features. Oh goodie, now the foolish prince has his son fulfill his bidding. 

The small boy gazed around. His metallic grey orbs and wild black hair, a spitting image of his father. A wooden deformity clutched tight against his chest. 

The spirit observed from a distance, uncertain which action best suited with her newest and strongest visitor. Never before had a child entered her forest, let alone by himself. And it being such a young little one... Of the age of four. 

It left her troubled to say the least. 

She couldn’t possibly harm such a small child... could she?

One thing was certain, she did not like this situation in the slightest. The father would pay dearly for this act of neglect, she’d make sure of that.  

She had dwelled this realm for centuries, witnessed a fair amount of tragedy, agony, and grace. Never once been so irritated by a mere man, a human, if one could call him that. A foolish demon lord. 

Greedily she took a breath of the chill wind that blew, never noted she held her breath so long.

She stepped out into the narrow clearing. Met the boy head-on, with a soft smile in place. In response, the boy stepped back, startled by the stillness of her movements. Not a sound heard when she stepped from the bushes. 

He gazed away at the spirit before him. Having heard rumors from  loose tongues of his father’s vessels. 

A lithe female, dressed in white. Her silvery hairs shaded varied hues of blue, pink, turquoise chaperoned by many others. A white glow resonated from her form, making her seem a near angelic being. Send by Gendûre, a God to all gods in his nation. A God, known for his fierce storms of rage, tearing the heavens apart and wreak chaos on earth. 

“Is the prince of fools that afraid, he must send a child in his stead?” Her voice sounded soft and calm in contrast to what he had gathered from the others. Called a raging force of nature. 

A sudden observation fell him. Her eyes, unlike his father had told, were not black and lavender. Instead, he saw ordinary eyes with amethyst shaded irises. 

Snow drifted in the air between them. The boy remained unmoved, but a shiver of cold. Teeth clappering at the frostiness of an ending winter bore his skin. His clothing more inline for winter, with cotton pants and blouse. Not even a best or coat insight. 

His metallic grey orbs he shared with his father were nothing like his. When gazing deep into his eyes, she found only sadness and loneliness. Pity ate heavily in her heart. Recognizing the feeling too much for comfort. 

She smiled bitterly, more for herself than another. “Come on,” she ruled coldly, a few steps taken before she finds the boy remain in the clearing. Eyes fixed on her, yet hesitant to move or speak. “Do not worry, I do not feast upon children. Nor kill them for entertainment.” A part of her didn’t care if the boy lived or froze in her forest, being his own and his fathers fault. Both were at blame for their intrusions and misdeeds.

However, a particular voice within her mind chastised such cruel thoughts. He is only a youngling, no older than seven. 

“I do not need a frozen corpse, taint my precious forest. Least of all one belonging to such a youngling.” Offering him a tender smile. “Come and I will allow you in my home and help warm up a little.”

A heavy sigh joined the crispy air that surround them, a weight of her shoulders. The sound of ice crackling traveled across the clearing and sought after them away from it. 

Slowly and with due caution the boy strode forth, tracking her bare, near-invisible prints in the crystalized snow. The falling snow floated around, avoiding any touch of flesh. Carried by the wind. 

Is she doing this to protect me from getting anymore colder? He wondered, a ghost of a smile dared his lips. It had been such a long time anything near warmth filled his heart. An attentive spring bled into his quickened steps. 

He halted in his tracks when she vanished inside her home. Unable to believe his very own eyes. 

Her house, built with dark timber. Trees, bushes, and creepers forged her home. Twisting and swirling, made a whole. Large arches that functioned both as door and windows, a soft white linen-draped for a curtain. 

The spirit vanished inside, the boy cautious behind. His keen eye examined it all. It was only one large room, as far he could see. 

The spirit took place on an elegant carved cushioned bench in front of a burning fireplace. He did as his father taught him, always be alert of your surroundings and take everything in. 

And that’s what he did. His eyes took notice of the smallest peculiar things. Although her house made of the flora of the forest, the ground being grass. there were carpets beside the fireplace and bed inside the other room. Wooden, with posts twisted until the wisteria growing above. Neatly made with sapphire blue bed linen. A wooden chest at its foot.  Visible through a thin layer of linen that divided the space in two. The few furniture, that graced the space was all carved in twists and turns, magnified in elegance. In contrary with his own build with stone, the wood cut shape and straightforward. 

The room they resided held various bookcases. Shelves filled with books in all sizes, shapes, and colors. Tales from all over the world. It reminded the boy of his father’s forbidden library. Too adult for such a young boy. 

A few relics sprang between the sea of books. Both gifted from those she cared for and obtained herself. 

Her voice drew him from awe. “Come have a seat by the fire and I’ll allow you to relish in a cup of my herbal tea.”

The boy complied and took his seat in a mirror image of hers. 

There she sat. Her legs tugged beneath her, back slight tilted aside, leaning against the armrest. Her intrigued eyes never waver from their interest. Sipping from her own cup. 

He followed her example and tested the hot liquid. Send an active rush through his chilled veins. Tensions thawed quicker than the snow outside. His senses relished in the sweet aromas, finding them difficult placed. Smells foreign for even his well-developed taste. Each noon he would relish in the flavors of tea, in company of his nursemaid, Estelle. An old, snarky woman he hates. As she loves discipline by use of a slender stick with a tap of the fingers. 

With her head held high, she placed her cup back in place. “Now, what is your name?” She inquired after an answer she already knew. The boy had been through enough. She had no cause or desire to enhance the poor boy’s troubles. He’d probably runoff in a mad dash as most children had done so in the past. 

“Licht Kelila of Leones in Zion, my lady. What would yours be, my lady?” She smiled ever so tender at his small voice and proper manners. Unable to remember how long it had been since her last conversation with a human. Or another living soul beside what dwelled within her forest. 

“Nennialine.” She did not understand why she would give her name, but the sensation it caused in the pit of her being gave her a sense of solace. It was not that she suddenly developed affection for this boy. No. Never the less, the more she delved the depths of his mind, the further the burns of aversion faded. 

“N-ennnia-lize…” the boy tested the name with his own speech, destined for his ears alone. Such a pretty, difficult name. I wonder if it’s elvish seeing she is one. Is she not?

“Most call me Nenya, you may use that verse if you wish.” She offered with genuine kindness. The crease between his bows eased as he attempted the name on his lips. 

This one’s nothing like his father. Her heart skipped a beat. Perhaps there is hope for this world after all. Her gaze drifted towards the fire that began crackling to life. The scents of smoke and wood tickled her nostrils. 

“Your house is very cold.”  The bluntness of the previous shy Licht drew her from her own thoughts. “But very pretty... much nicer than father’s castle.” He added in slight discomfort of her gaze. Not a sign of anger, hurt or any other emotion. A blank canvas awaiting his creation. 

“Well, thank you... I guess...” She replied uncertain, mumbling the last part. It had been such a long time since she conversed with another. She could not even remember who it had been. Did she even enjoy it? Or was it in pursuit of proper etiquette? 

Her face fell, it must have been that irritating know it all. Falinor. Recollecting the name itself was enough to dampen her already unsettled mood. The old lout loved to roam the realms and put his nose in positions it had no business sniffing in the first place. He would enjoy the event playing out today. 

Now she is stuck with another male sniffing unwanted in her affairs. And this one had brought along his too young sonfor good measure.

The boy perceived her vast amount of bookshelves. Intrigued by the foreign objects from distant unknown lands. 

“You have so many books, did you read all of them?” His aforementioned nerves gone like the wind. A bolder attitude generated. “Do you live here alone?” 

“On both, yes. One could say that.” Nenya replied, a dash of amusement in her voice. A voice, softer than fresh fallen snow, beautiful and gentle as a recent bloomed blossom. 

His expression clearly showed his thirst for more. “I’ve lived inside this forest, my forest for...” she strained her brain for a time. How long has it been, my love? Her heart ached for him and his affections, casting a coldness over her heart. “it must have been near a century. If not more.”

Licht’s manner did not hide his shock. His mouth hung open, and his eyes wide. She bit back a giggle from his oversight of feigning a goldfish. How old is she then? She seems not a day over twenty. His mind trying the guessing game, something mortals enjoy playing when met one endowed with everlastingness. “Are you an elf?” A bland question, a tell he began feeling more at ease in her presence. 

“One could say that.” Her reply a taunt, a dare, tempting the evolution of the inquisitiveness that cultivated in his mind. Where further queries formed, left unstated. Instead, the boy hunted his own response. Searching for any feasible solution in their surroundings and herself. Something she celebrated in a another living being. A mind if his own, greedy for knowledge beyond his own sights. 

Does she really lives here alone? That must be incredibly lonely. And boring. His face fell, haunted by the belief of hundreds years living in solitude. I sure know how that feels. He, himself, lived within the bustling castle walls of his father. Yet the boy could never renounce his loneliness. Even when haunted by a constant shadow called his nursemaid. 

Poor boy... Nenya smiled bitter, when she felt a bond form with him. A dazzling smile vanished. Displaced by a thoughtful gaze towards the bustling of the fire that warms the area. 

Out of thin air, Licht’s brow furrowed, claiming her view. Silence ruled his mind without warning. A single smile from her, without cause, influenced by his last thought, deepened his brow further. “Father reckons you can read one’s mind. Is it true? Can you convey through them as well?” Licht tried to swallow the lump of nerves imperiling his shaky breath. 

This youngling certain is peculiar. Not to mention perceptive. A bitter smile crept up from the abysses of her winter heart. “For a demon lord youngling, you’re very clever. Even more so than that desperate mud of a father.” She spoke inside his mind. Her voice echoed through, with the same voice she spoke with before. However, he still jumped in surprise. To expect and then actual hear her voice within the confinements of his own mind left him in murky waters. 

Nenyalisei anticipated the boy’s flight, rushing back to his father in fright. 

Time went on... The sun made way further west. 

“Is it not lonely being here by yourself? Trapped... Alone...”  His words interrupted her thoughts and turned her lips down into a scowl. “Do you not wish to leave and see the world? Meet people and have friends?” The boy might pretend this was about her, she would  not be fooled. Because of her curious trip down his mind. One’s mouth lies, however one’s mind can not. Unless tampered with. Something that is never done without a blood-stained path. 

“Like yourself?”  She retorted immediately without regret, flicking her narrow gaze towards him. A clear tell of things she learns, with no need for tells.

“Mean witch.” He hissed under his breath. Full aware lying before this female would be pointless. All the secrets he so desperate tried to conceal in the abysses of his mind, laid bare before her sorcery. 

“Elf-witch, most called me.”  She noted dismissive. It seemed so long ago since those awful words were only the outset of a long pathway of heartbreak. Kids can act cruel whenever faced with things beyond their comfort zone. Adults and their desire of control, never any lesser. Even elves have their very own wickedness. Beyond the beauty and grace they carry themselves with. 

“S-sorry,” a faint whisper spilled beyond his disgrace. 

Silence taunted them both. Licht wondered if the shift in the air was because something wrong he said. He eyed her perfect sculpted face, emotionless, brightened by the flicking fire. 

Then he spoke again, with no note of words: “Will you be my friend?”  Mystified she looked up, hearing him out. “You could come with me to Leones and play together. We would never be alone...”

Scoffing at his words, amusement bled into her own. “Why would I abandon my forest? Who says I desire to leave the solace and leisures of my home?”  

Licht’ shoulders fell, hopes of a friend beyond his father’s influence fell beyond reach. Demons of before crept from their concealment. 

The solemn image in front sobered her up. She saw a boy, haunted by his troubles and fears, and hoped he heeded her next words with the gravity they held. In a soft, yet firm voice. “Perhaps one should think before speaking. Did it never occur to you, my solitude has valid reasoning behind them.” 

His hands clenched. Outside, beyond the curtains, the wind picked up. Disturb their surrounding trees. The flora called her dwelling wept songs of anguish beneath the crushing breaths of nature. Picked up with each word spoken. “I have no desire to converse with tainted men. Humans and all their variations only care for themselves and their riches. That’s how the kings of despair came to be. Mending the chariot of war, leaving behind a path of blood in its wake. That is the way of the world beyond this forest. Why should I desire any part if it?”

“What nonsense are you spouting!” Anger rushed into his rhythm. “I do not care what you did, that is the past, this is about the future.” The storm raging faded, along with the melting of the snow outside. Spring knocking on the door, filled with new beginnings. “Please, no one deserves to be alone forever, no matter the crime.” Tears slipped beyond their entrapment, spilling down his reddened face. “Please, give it a chance.”

Nenya’s gaze fell back towards the fire. Sorrow filled her heart. Her long delicate fingers reached up and ruffled his hairs. hauled the now trembling boy in an embrace. All signs of anger and bravery gone, fear and regret came along. 

One hand rubbed his back, senses of comfort soothed his soul. At ease, he closed his tired eyes, oblivious of a tear striking down her cheek. She closed her eyes at the memory of him. Her fingers brushed her necklace, a silver chain carrying a sapphire seeming stone. The smooth surface and sharp edges she knew so well.

Outside she noticed a small, ever delicate bud glimpse from beneath the melting snow. Spring was knocking at her door. A season full of life and new beginnings. Spring has and will always be the most precious season of their kin.

The final surge of winter outside dwindled down. The storm within Nenya’s existance flared more rapid than wildfire. She knew what had come to pass. And she dreaded every moment of it.