Love is not pink... It's Green! (completed 33/33)

Revelations

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LOVE IS NOT PINK... IT'S GREEN!

Chapter 28: Revelations

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It was a library, but unlike the others, the scent of the dust and the old scroll could be perfectly perceived, about to become nothing more than particles due to abandonment.

"Master Finibur, what is this place?"

"Sit down Fresnia." That was all the old elf said to him and then he went to get a set of books off the shelves.

The prince had no choice but to sit down, he would have liked to clean the old chair of all the accumulated dust, but this was so much that he decided that this would be a useless task, so he sat down and waited patiently for his interlocutor.

Finibur returned with a good number of books and placed them on an equally dusty table.

Seeing Fresnia that he would get nothing out of asking his teacher about the doubts that came to mind at the time, he decided to take the books and read what was in them.

One revelation after another was what shook Fresnia's mind as the young elf opened his exorbitant eyes.

"It can't be... Everything I read in these books... All these names... They, they..."

"Yes, my prince. All elves of yore who like you went to the Brown Territories to see the orcs and gain an understanding of our two races. As you can see from all the records, each of these attempts was destined for death and failure."

It was true, chapter after chapter, volume after volume, book after book; they did but show how brave and free thinkers elves found nothing but death and the failure of their mission.

Various notes regarding flora, fauna, social customs, religion, politics, fashion and countless others were recorded in the books, notes that were put by the elves who went to the orcs in their search for peace between the two races.

"Finibur, the old man..." Fresnia reads, as his eyes ran through the famous name.

"My father," Replied the old elf as he made a fist with his right hand, "because of the importance of him, they couldn't kill him just like that, that's why the previous king, your grandfather, forced him to drink from the hemlock to die of poisoning." Tears streamed down his severe face as Fresnia looked down, understanding his old master's reason for bringing him there.

No one accompanied him, Fresnia climbed the long steps alone and after arriving at his luxurious cell, he closed the door himself as the guards moved restlessly in their sleep, sure to wake up soon.

Fresnia never felt such spiritual pain as he was experiencing at that very moment. He, who thought he was special for seeking peace between elves and orcs; he, who considered himself different for wanting to know more than he was told by books or his teacher; he, who believed he would make a difference... In reality, he was nobody, just another elf in a long succession of more prepared, enthusiastic and skilful people who had far surpassed him in their search for peace, but who in the end each and every one of them had succumbed to the inevitable.

He, Fresnia, was nobody important and he never would be. The weight of this was devastating and he knelt down and tried to dirty his long hair with the dust on the floor, while the anguish was translated into the hottest tears he had shed to date, so much so that he seemed to cry blood.

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After a couple of days his mother came to visit him and seeing him in a catatonic state, ordered his release.

Once again, routine reigned in Fresnia's life, a broken doll that did nothing but exist, not live, a sad rag doll whose smile had been forgotten.

"...Fresnia... Fresnia..." The prince heard a call that was confused in the distance, but was actually very close.

The prince turned his sad face, more by an act of reflection of his body than by his weak will, and looked at his mother's worried face.

"Fresnia, my child... I, well, your father and I have been talking... We believe that you should not go on as you have done up to now, you don't eat properly and you neglect your duties as heir... No, you don't care about yourself, if it wasn't for the maids... Fresnia. Your father and I have arranged your marriage to a young woman of high lineage, so we believe your life will return to its course."

Fresnia didn't respond, he just turned his face again and looked back at the bare wall. His mother stroked his long hair and then, crying, came out of his room.

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In a very different location and at a considerable distance, another pair of eyes looked without focusing anything, one of the interior walls of the tent.

An athletic figure with a shiny, oil-lubricated body came in and simply punched the orc in her thoughts.

"Wake the fuck up, bitch!"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Black Lips!"

"Ah, you're finally saying something, I thought you were still shitting because of the way I found you sitting."

Gruñilda didn't say anything to her, she just rubbed her cheek where she had been struck, but she gave her shaman a look of hatred.

"What the hell are you doing here? Can't you see it's too late?"

"I had a very restless dream."

"A dream? You mean a vision, otherwise if you came to my tent to tell me a dream, I warn you that It's going to be very bad for you."

"Well, I think it's going to be very bad for all of us. See, I had visions of fire, blood and death... I think the Elves are preparing for war."

CONTINUARÁ...

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