Rising Dragons

Aldrys Galchobhar

Character Ramble - This is my latest one! It's quite interesting! Certainly a change from the norm.

As much as he'd like to pretend otherwise – and despite what everyone else thinks they know – he hasn't always been strong. He remembers hearing the harsh, cruel words whispered, in kindness, but still heard and for all their secrecy, he knew. He knew and it hurt because he knew and couldn't do anything about it.

Magic is something innate, something natural. It can't be there one day and then not the next, that's not how it works. It's something you will always have or never have. It doesn't change with age, although you find out about it later in life.

He didn't have it and never would (the gentlest of words can be damning, and these were). It wasn't an outcry, because elves pride themselves on being kind, and history has proven that magic isn't everything (but it was something prized, something treasured, something spoken about with awe and would remain a mystery for those without it).

Nonetheless, to hear others whisper words of how he was 'pathetic', 'disappointed', 'useless', and 'would never amount to much' wounded him, in heart and in mind. What hurt more was the fact he couldn't change it, and still, they spoke behind his back of his disability.

He could've spoken to his family (they didn't care that he didn't have magic), but he was young (so, so young) and still unaware of how much they loved him. He puts on a brave face and with eyes (that see too much) focussing straight ahead, he walks on. He walks and walks until he's out of sight, out of view, but not out of mind (because he's weak and it's unfair that the King's niece has no magic, useless in the minds of many).

Hidden amongst trees tall and silent, watchful and uncaring, he lets himself collapse. Back against the rough bark, head buried between knees, and back heaving as he cries. He doesn't stop until his eyes are puffy and throat sore and he no longer has any tears left in his body. When he's done, he looks around him, searching the plants and wildlife around him for any who he should be wary of, but sees no one. Content with the refuge he's found, he scrubs his face and buries his fingers in the dirt. He takes a deep breath and stands up.

(He squares his shoulders and holds his head up. He moves on.)

Galchobhar (magic-less, useless, weak, pathetic) might not have magic, never will have magic, but he knows (he does, but it still hurts) that he can be something without it, but still, he turns his gaze away with flushed cheeks and itchy eyes when he hears the cruel whispers behind his back.

He finds himself home amongst the green leaves of the trees and grey fur of the wolves. He finds life in the bubbling brooks and singing sparrows. He finds safety in the prowling grizzly bears and sleek jaguars.

(This is where he finds danger and the hungry gleam of the eyes of a predator. This is where he finds pain and hurt and suffering and the threat of survival.)

He learns, quickly and fast, of the danger. (He becomes dangerous). He learns of the predators and their ways. (He learns how to move as part of nature). He learns of magic in blood that belongs instead of the magic of elves. (He learns gratitude and altruism). He learns of fighting for survival and for territory and for food and for packmates-herdmembers-clan-clutch. (He learns to fight). He learns of healing and biding your time, patience. (He learns of scars and pride). He learns of life. (They teach him.)

He's young, but no longer seen as too-young-to-think. They think of him now, not as the-one-without-magic, but as the wild-one-wild-thing-wild-wild-wild.