Zanian sat watching the flames dance on the blackened logs.The stars twinkled overhead through the rising smoke that blended against the night sky. Not far off in the trees did the others sleep, excluding Quoorin who skulked around the outside of their camp to keep watch. He was beginning to wonder if running from the Queen’s guards was a smart move; he didn’t know what he was getting into.
“Can’t sleep either?” Felicia asked from behind him. She walked gracefully to the other side of the fire and sat.
“I just don’t know what to make of all this,” he admitted, throwing a stick he had been playing with into the flames. The fire was quick to engulf it. “You have a purpose here. I don’t.”
“I don’t think I want to be important,” she shrugged. “I’m not use to being needed. Staying in the shadows was all I required.”
“I’ve been thinking of running,” Zanian confessed. “Perhaps I can find a blacksmith who will train me. Or a baker. Or something like that. I’ve dreamt of living an exciting life, but now that it’s happening...”
“I’ve had vivid dreams of battles that I lead,” Felicia revealed. “We fight to win, or we die. Believing I was a great war hero as exciting, until I awoke to find I was still living in a rundown house in the slums.”
“I’m scared,” he whispered, after a minutes silent had passed.
“I as well,” she replied. Then firmly, “We can’t run. Clearly this was supposed to happen. We’ll do what must be done. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” he concurred. The frightened tone was still in her voice, but something about her was strong.
“We should try to get some sleep,” Felicia suggested.
Abruptly, there was a loud thud to their left. A yelp followed and a string of words in a language Zanian didn’t recognize, but they didn’t sound too happy.
“I’ll squash you like the bug you are Seaskipper!” Quoorin assured, his silhouette getting up form the ground.
“I thought cats always landed on their feet,” Thereriss cackled, flying above the fire so she was hidden in the smoke.
“If you two don’t shut it,” Valandil called from the forest, “I swear you’ll pay.”
“Sleepy elf needs his rest,” sang Thereriss, flying up. “Sleepy elf needs his sleep. Sleepy elf requires a nap so he won’t be a grumpy elf.”
“I swear you’re on this planet to make us miserable,” growled Quoorin, walking into the firelight.
“Most likely,” Thereriss agreed, fluttering away into a tree not far off.
“You two should try to get some sleep,” Quoorin instructed.
“We were just about to,” informed Zanian.
“Very good,” Quoorin nodded. “Septima! You’re turn to keep watch!”
“I swear I shall turn you into a toad if you don’t let me sleep another five minutes!” Septima shouted back. Quoorin smirked at this.
“You all seem very dysfunctional,” noted Felicia.
“We all believe our races are superior,” Quoorin shrugged. “Though, out of all the races, our six get along the best. Now, go and sleep.”
Zanian woke up on the soft grass. The sun was just rising over the horizon, casting soft pinks and yellows over everything. A few meters away Felicia still slept with her gold hair splayed around her. He had never seen an elf before, but they were as beautiful as the stories said they were. Even wearing a makeshift, burlap dress she seemed elegant. Valandil was no exception to this; he was a handsome man.
“Good morning, Zanian,” Felicia yawned, sitting up and stretching.
“Mornin’,” he greeted, quickly looking away. “Did you sleep well?”
“Aye,” she replied, standing up. “Are the others up?”
“What do you mean I’m useless?” Lessien asked, her voice wavering in anger.
“I think that would be a yes,” Zanian replied. The two of them made their way to where a new fire had been made.
“You refuse to carry anything,” Valandil replied. “How is that not useless?”
“No,” countered Lessien, “I refuse to carry anything that does not belong to me.”
“Useless,” Valandil repeated.
“You just wish you were a pixie,” taunted Lessien.
“Please,” Quoorin begged, “can you two stop arguing?”
“It’s what we do,” blinked Lessien.
“And I don’t wish I was pixie,” added Valandil.
“Drop it you two,” ordered Torrim. “Mornin’ Felicia, Zanian. Hope ye had a pleasant sleep.”
“That we did,” Felicia replied. Zanian nodded his agreement.
“Hungry?” Quoorin asked, motioning to a stew that was boiling over the fire.
“Yes,” Zanian and Felicia replied in unison. Quoorin took two bowls from a small stack and ladled out some stew for them. Each took it ravenously and began to eat.
“Where did all this come from?” Felicia asked, between bites.
“Well, we had the ingredients,” Lessien said, “minus the deer Quoorin killed. As for the cauldron, bowls and spoons, I’m not going to admit robbing that farmhouse a mile from here. I’ll put it back...or leave it here.”
“See, another reason of how you’re-” Valandil was cut off by a glare Septima shot him.
“We should be leaving soon,” Quoorin recommended. “It’s going to be odd enough to see travelers walking with their hoods up on such a nice day. Let’s just hope the roads aren’t too busy.”
The next ten minutes were spent packing up what little belongings they had. Whenever he could, he would steal a glance at Felicia. She seemed familiar, but he could not place it.
“Little obsession going, eh?” Lessien teased when he was next to her.
“No,” he blushed, turning away from her.
“You should go for a pixie,” Lessien suggested. “They’re far superior than elves considering we can cast magic rather than just enchant weapons and armor.”
“You’re more of a wannabe sorceress,” Valandil interjected, walking up to them. Zanian was about to leave the two alone before Torrim walked up.
“Stop yer bickerin’,” ordered Torrim. “We’re headin’ out now.”
YOU ARE READING
Champion
FantasyFelicia, a sixteen year old elven girl, has grown up in the city slums for most of her life. She has no idea what it's like to be an actual elf. One day, she runs into two travellers, one of which is sent to be executed with her, who change her life...
