A collection of memoirs and short pieces

An Elvish Tale - Departures (Short Story)

It was a cool summer day, sun up at its highest point casting light upon a large grass-filled hilly landscape, littered with isolated sakura trees in bloom. Their petals blew across the area, carried by a light breeze, piercing the otherwise lush green landscape with their characteristic pastel pink hue. On top of one of these innocuous hills, underneath the shadow of what seemed to be the oldest and largest tree anywhere in sight, lay a singular figure, wearing a white silk robe that went down to their knees, embroidered with golden threads woven into the fabric in a meticulous pattern, and holding a large wooden staff endowed with a Royal Purple Gem as its top, that was almost as tall as themself. Their shoulder-length silver hair lay scattered across the grass, not quite hiding their distinctly pointed ears, as their eyes remained half closed, their body relaxed in a calm most people only dream of. The only sounds for miles were the soft chirps of hummingbirds, singing a song of tranquillity, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

This picturesque repose was not to last though, as the sound of heavy footsteps soon began to draw near, scaring away the animals in the nearby trees. A large, battle-scarred figure, with crimson red hair and a half-healed slash across their cheek, ran towards the large tree. Their stylised silver plate armour clinked and clanked as they ran, with light reflecting off of the golden shoulder plates in a range of colours. Along their right side lay a large mace, while on their left they held a large shield forged entirely of iron. Despite their powerful aura of experience, they looked quite young, what you'd imagine a human in their early 20s to be like. They didn't seem human though, their teeth were a bit too large, and their features a bit too burly.

As they approach the tree, the Silver-haired figure stirs, sleepily raising their head to see who was approaching. A beam of light from the warrior's armor hits their eyes, and they quickly shield them with their arms before annoyedly uttering, "You flashy bastard, couldn't you just let me sleep in peace for once?"

"I'm sorry Lazreal," said the warrior apologetically, "I wanted to come see you before I left for my country"

Lazreal was clearly taken aback by this revelation, dropping their pretences and gasping, "You're leaving the party? Is everything okay Bahatur? Do you need any help?"

Bahatur shakes his head knowingly, "It's time for me to take my place in my people's chiefdom, I don't want to keep them waiting any longer. I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me over the last two years. You've been an inspiration to me as a person and as an adventurer, and I think anyone would be lucky to have you as a party member. I'm sorry I have to leave, but, if you ever need any help, the people of Na'erth are your friends."

Lazreal began to visibly tear up as they listened to Bahatur. They knew this day would come, but they weren't prepared for it to be today. Bahatur was only a couple of years younger than them, but he was like an annoyingly precious younger brother that you weren't ready to see leave. They try to stifle and hold back their tears long enough to get their feelings across, but all they manage to utter is "You... I... Dumb... Why", before being reduced to a well of tears, rushing forward to hug Bahatur. While clearly taken aback, Bahatur sheepishly returns the hug, patting Lazreal's head comfortingly.

"You idiot, you never take care of yourself. What are you going to do without Figeroth to heal you, or Urkel to cover your reckless charges, or me to nag you when you don't think before you act? You have to be more responsible, or else I'll find you and beat you up myself, you hear me?"

"I know. I'll be careful, I promise. I'm not the same kid you first met you know"

Lazreal wipes away a tear, looking at him for a while before managing the words, "I know. I'm proud of you, and we all love you. No matter what happens, you always have a home with us Just be safe, please"

Lazreal watched as Bahatur set off towards the east, a sad nostalgia in the sight painfully emblematic of the time that had gone by. Elves don't perceive time the same way other races do. They age just the same as any human for the first 26 years of their life, but then their physical development slows to a crawl, with them not reaching old age for another few centuries. For Elves, 2 years is nothing more than a brief glimpse into a person's life. Nothing significant enough to develop strong attachments. The same, unfortunately, can't be said for half-elves, who age very similarly to elves, though with noticeably shorter total lifespans, but perceive time in the way humans (and by extension most other creatures) do. Though Lazreal was not yet aware of this at the time, the tragedy of the half-elf is their ability to repeatedly get attached to things so powerfully, only to be forced to watch them fade away.

Nevertheless, life moves on.