When the Kingdoms Met the Courts

Chapter Eight- A Glimpse of Hope and Despair

Hey guys. Sorry for taking forever to update, once again. I have suffered the consequences as my read count has gone downhill, but that's not what writing is about. Also, I urge you, check out TheLlamasdrink, she's amazing. Her fantasy story is amazing. As for the music, I have another piece by Peter Gundry. 'The Forest Queen' is a piece that I find relaxing and reminds me of woodland elves. In terms of this chapter, I only felt like writing from Elain's perspective because hers is my absolute favourite. Anyway, I should actually get to writing this now.

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Elain was slowly migrating north, yet her lack of knowledge of the lands severely hindered her. She found herself at the mouth of the Avery River. According to an old fisherman and his wife, the border of Rifthold was only another hour or two away by foot.

She passed by a small village. There, she was surrounded by orphans, begging for coins. Elain had little, but she couldn't bear the thought of leaving them without paying up. Three gold coins she handed out. A weight was lifted off her chest as she saw the cheerful smiles on the faces of the children.

   A mother walked up to her kindly and asked for assistance. Elain would have denied, had she not have seen the state of the village. They were poor and could afford little. The mother looked ill, so she accepted.

   "Thank you. My son is sick and I heard the fae have remedies. Could you possibly know what to do?" There was urgency outlining her voice as Elain slowly stepped to the boy. He was quite handsome, with dark brown hair covering his forehead. He was sickly, his face as pale as a bone. The coughed and spluttered into his hands, weakness apparent in the way he looked at her. Elain knew the gods weren't kind, but she couldn't help but think that every time he looked at her.

   "I am sorry, I do not know how to heal your son. If this helps, take my coins," Elain poured half of her golden coins onto a nearby counter. "I do not know these lands well - but I'm sure there is somewhere you can travel to find a cure."

   The mother couldn't believe her eyes. She was sobbing, her green eyes clouded with tears. "Tha-thank you," she was joyful, but hesitant. "I cannot repay you."

   "I do not need repayment. There are other issues I must address, your money is the least of my concern."

With that, Elain left the village.

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Elain trudged through the open field, her boots crunching in the dead grass. She spied a stable from a farm about one hundred metres away and made a beeline for it. She was tired, yet she had thought she could push herself north for the sake of arriving in Rifthold by nightfall. She was wrong. The pain in her legs was unfathomable. She had never been particularly fit, during long treks she was often left behind. Her knees felt like they would give out at any moment.

She reached the stable. A chestnut pony lay on the hay, but Elain's eyes were not concerned with that. Next to it stood a gorgeous thoroughbred, nibbling away at a rotten apple. Elain smelt the air, tried to sniff out if there were any humans nearby. She smelt nothing. Hastily, Elain snatched the saddle off the wall, mounted the horse and bounded off. She felt a strange thrill from the theft, but that undermined the guilt and shame she felt.

The horse galloped through the woods until it reached a clearing. There, it halted as Elain glimpsed a city in the far distance. It was bright, yet there were dark undertones. Only now had it begun the healing process from years of despair, Elain noted. She took a swig of cheap wine, the only liquid she could find that was clean, or as clean as you can get in the slums of Melisande. The water was contaminated with filth and disease, it smelt like horse piss.