Journey of the Half-Elf - Book 1

Chapter XV - Midnight Mass Burial

"Oi," Gastan called out to the old Elf from behind, as he rose from the charred soil with a black body in his arms.

"What?" His icy tone chilled the air as he walked through it.

"Gwinna and I wanna help," the man replied, following him out of the Manor alongside Guinevere.
"If we do this right, we'll be done in no time. Two hours tops."

"No. You two fools brought the Zulwraiths here. The role of undertaker is mine and mine alone." He candidly declared, laying the body down beside Aegwyna before sinking it into the ground.

"Look, mate." Gastan let out a heavy sigh. "I know we fucked up. That's why we wanna help. We wanna fix our mistake, make sure them Zulwraiths don't come back. Admit it, three's better than one."

"Father is right." Guinevere added. "We all want to go home. I hate being here, and though you will not show it, I feel that you do too. So please, let us help you."

As the weathered warrior sanctified the sealed grave, he loudly groaned and got up from the glimmering grass.

"Girl." He fixed his eroding gold eyes to the 16-year old below him. "Will you pester me with questions again?"

"N-No. I, promise I will not. We will move the bodies out, and you will bury them. Although, I do have one small question. Just the one." She nervously gulped; the old Elf intensified his glare.

"Your burying spell... does that only work on a single body? Or can you bury multiple bodies at once? If so, we can move three bodies at once. We do so as fast as we can, and then once all the bodies are laid out facing east, you can bury them all. Is it possible?" She needed him to say yes; even through her black bandana, she could bear the stench of burnt flesh no longer.

"Yes. It will take a while, but it can be done."

Very well. Take the cart, and begin moving the bodies." He instructed before heading back into the Manor, expecting Gastan to walk beside him.

"Father, where are you going?" Guinevere turned around and enquired as he left her side. "You need to help."

"I'm picking up my knife and salt-pouch." He informed his daughter. "I dropped 'em when that Zulwraith grabbed me. I already lost my damn horse, I ain't losing them too."

"Very well. Be quick, Father." Guinevere told him, returning to the Manor to begin her task.

"By the way," the 16-year old began to make conversation with the tired Elf, carefully laying a corpse down onto her cart, "We haven't introduced ourselves. My name is-"

"Girl," He slowly boomed, cradling two little corpses in his arms as he walked to the grave-site outside. "You promised not to pester me with questions."

"I know, I-I know," Guinevere sheepishly chuckled as she pushed the cart out of the Manor. "I just wanted to talk. Besides, from your aura I can sense your fatigue and lack of drive. Perhaps... you would like to talk about your feelings?"

"Hmph." he scoffed at her silly suggestion, laying the two little corpses down on the grass. "Why in Gwynblaidd's name would I discuss my... feelings? And with you of all people?"

Guinevere was slightly shocked by his rude retort, but tried to see it as his worn gold exterior being chipped away, exposing the person within. "It does not have to necessarily be me. You could talk to my father. He is a good listener. My... mother..." The 16-year old looked down at her scarred knuckles for a few seconds, beginning to recall one of her lessons. "She always taught me to be open with your feelings. To not let them fester and further your pain.
I feel that you would benefit by speaking, about whatever burdens you carry.
At times, I feel these very faint noises from you. They are fleeting, but... they sound like screams, or crying..."