|[ THE FAERI'S KEEPER ]|

Chapter 17: Stories, Love and Pain

Once given directions to the river I stepped out through the red curtain and blinked in the sunlight. Elves froze in their tracks, watching me with wide dark eyes. I squared my shoulders and began walking, trying to ignore their gazes. They didn't mean harm — I hoped. It was with relief that I reached the tree-shaded path and left the small settlement behind. No doubt more elves lurked within the green, watching, but I no longer felt a thousand sets of eyes on my back.

I wanted to talk to Natona, to find out her story. Why was she so hateful towards Soldin; I had thought my anger and fury towards him had been unmatched, but hers no doubt took the title of champion. I ducked under a low hanging branch, fingers slipping over the smooth bark. I sort of recognised the tree — across Eltor different trees grew in different areas — but I couldn't be sure where I had seen such smooth bark before. I pushed it from my mind. I would ask Natona when I found her.

I followed the path, winding between pale smooth trunks, like ghosts in green shadows, until the sound of bubbling water reached my ears and I heard a faint voice singing a beautiful melody. The voice was deeper, far deeper than I thought any woman's voice could go, and yet it was still utterly and entirely feminine. It was ethereal. I couldn't hear what they were saying, so I carefully, quietly continued walking forwards until the clear, cool water appeared between the trees and I could see Natona resting cross-legged on a large flat rock. Her voice was hauntingly pretty, sending chills down my spine as she sang a song in her native tongue. She suddenly stopped and I watched her whole body tense like a coil. Standing up, her head cocked slightly as she listened intently.

"I know you are there," she said slowly, "Come forwards. It's dangerous to hover in shadow." I stepped forwards. She turned to look at the sound of my steps. "Ahh the foolish Halfling," she sighed, "How can I help you? Did the elders send you here?"

"Yes, they did..." I said slowly, "I mean... I... I don't meant to pry, but could you tell me... why you hate... the king so much." I didn't say Soldin's name — the mere mention of it seemed to set her temper ablaze.

"You want to hear my story?" she asked. She sounded slightly amused, but her face remained humourless, "Why? What does my suffering mean to you?"

"It's just... you told me that it was hopeless for me and Cedric... and I wanted to know... why that is?" Natona let out a sigh, falling back to a sitting position.

"It is not a happy tale. Nor am I fond or telling it. But for you, as an honoured guest to our village, I will repeat it." I nodded, sitting down where I stood in the soft grass. As if aware of her speaking, the whole area suddenly fell silent, and I realised why the Fae had been so jealous of the elves connection with the land.

"Where to begin..." she mumbled, more to herself than to me. As I watched she moved her hand out over the water and as if it was a solid, living breathing thing, a section of the water rose up and circled around her wrist, shimmering and moving the entire time. It was a beautiful sight and I sat down beside her in awe, watching as she held her hand aloft and the water spiralled around her fingers and palm.

"It was long ago, before the beginning of the Great War," Natona said softly, "And I was happy. I had my entire family, we owned a large house and I had met the love of my life. In the summers we would spend our days traversing the paths and treks of Aižsm." She was playing with the water almost absent-mindedly. "We all lived by the river Thyxis — it has long dried now — but it used to be huge... roaring past all hours of the day... and we would sit and watch the water, him and me."

"Wait, how old are you?" I asked, looking away from the shimmering orbs of water. Her face was neither lined, nor worn — she looked barely a decade older than me. It was trickery I knew, just like the immortal Faeris remained beautiful long after the mortals born in the same year withered away.