Journey of the Half-Elf - Book 1

Chapter IX - An Unexpected Friend

She laid Aeledwyn and Gaiagan inside their graves, then replaced the soil, one heap at a time until both were filled.

The task of burying two people alone, not loved ones, was tremendously difficult for anyone to undertake. Still shouldering the full weight of her sins, still immensely guilt-ridden, Guinevere absolutely wasn't expected to lay her mother and mentor to rest by herself - it would have been understandable for her to just find the nearest horse and ride away from it all, pushing all those thoughts and feelings down into the depths of her mind, locking up all those memories and discarding the key, dulling the pain with Abyss-borne vices.

It would have been cruel, yes, but understandable.

Red was her mother's favourite colour, alongside black. Atop her grave, Guinevere laid down a Kalemaidd rose, renowned for its pulsing petals and jagged thorns.
The flower itself was coveted by wolves for some reason - the 14-year old Aeledwyn realised this during her very first hunt.

For Gaiagan, he deserved the Taerean chrysanthemum, a flower commonly referred to as the 'Grey Guardian' for it's tough,
wide petals - many insects would gather beneath it when the rain began falling.

With both of their graves now finished, Guinevere next needed to bury the rest of the dead, who numbered almost a hundred. It would take her days - even with Gastan's help - but the atoning woman was determined to see it through till the very end, not stopping to eat or drink until every last body was placed in unburnt ground; the wide-reaching field of black soil, it's epicenter the main courtyard, was too weak to safely house the dead.

For two days straight, she did nothing but dig and dig, still ignoring her howling stomach, but sleeping for five to six hours a night; she was committed, but not foolish. Even so, that duration was barely enough to keep her strength up, but it was her only option; these graves had to be dug.

In two days, Guinevere had only managed to bury twelve bodies. Her strength and stamina were already running dangerously low, and very soon, no amount of sleep would keep her going.

Nevertheless, she pushed through the pain, still ignoring the bloody gash on the sole of her digging foot, and the cracking in her back.
Upon carrying the thirteenth body into its grave in her arms, Guinevere immediately collapsed, but stopped in midair by a heavy green hand.

"Are you alright, girl?" The towering, dark stranger asked, lifting both the woman and the corpse back up.

"Who..." Guinevere groggily replied, before turning her head and gasping in shock.

"Y-you... You're, you're not supposed to be, on this side of the border you Mudskin!" She tiredly yelled, looking up into his piercing blue eyes.

"Mudskin? Ah, I see, so you are a typical Elf. Hmph, Mother is right about you lot. Racist cunts." The Half-Orc shook his head in disappointment. "I guess I should just leave you here then. You do not want help from some filthy Mudskin, do you?" He spoke, his voice rightfully rife with frustration.

As Guinevere placed the body into the grave, she gripped the shovel once again and stood back up, scooping up dirt before responding to her saviour.

"Mudskins do not belong here, this is Elf-land, MY people's land. And yes, I do not want your help. I am perfectly capable, of... doing this..." The woman declared, before releasing the shovel and falling down, caught in the Half-Orc's thick, hairy arms.

Though he brought her back on her feet yet again, she saw fit to become infuriated by his light-green skin touching her burnt body.
Guinevere slapped him across the face, "How dare you touch me, Orc scum?! I should kill you, right here," the enraged woman pointed her dirt-stained finger in his face.