From across the crowded dance floor Alexander
Raven watched the activity of the bar.
Upon the low stage he had sat for a while now, not truly caring for
dancing that night. Many of the female
patrons were looking at him, always hopeful, but he did ruefully decline. It was not that he disdained dancing at all,
in fact the art meant much to him. But
this night was special, and thus he was only inclined to watch with great
interest.
For on this night someone new,
someone… different… had come to the small club.
Alexander knew well just about every
face he saw about the club in some way or another. Some were his closest friends, and more of those would arrive
later. Most others, well… they were
beginning to either bore him or severely annoy him, and so he paid them little
mind. These people had let themselves
fall into such sameness, until most seemed badly cobbled clones of the more
“popular” people who frequented the place.
Alexander was one of these emulated and it irked him to no end. He was sick of the entire town, all save his
dozen or so close friends.
But this newcomer… He thought, resuming his watch of the
bar. Now she is certainly
something special.
And indeed, his thoughts were no
understatement. The subject of his
careful watch did seem an interesting character. That is, at least from what he could see of her. It was simple enough to discern that the
person was female from the way she sat and the curves beneath her dark cloak.
The woman was sitting in the shadows at the very
edge of the bar, cloaked and hooded, and turned so that she might have a view
of both the entrance and the dance floor.
She had spoken to no one but the bartender all night, and only then to
order a drink. Many had approached her,
for new people were a rarity there, but each she had ignored until they simply
went away.
Alexander found himself wondering
why she did so, and why she even bothered to try and conceal herself in
shadow. The woman’s hair was white as
snow, hanging nearly to her knee from where it was tucked beneath her hood, and
it was quite noticeable against the black of her cloak. It had to be a wig, Alexander thought at
first. But after a while he figured
differently… especially upon noticing what could be seen of her arms. Her skin was so pale as to be almost
translucent. Perhaps she was an albino,
he thought. That would explain why she
kept her face covered even in the dim room.
He sighed.
There was no sense in continuing to guess about this woman. Alexander grew more intrigued of her by the
moment, and he had watched her for over an hour. Nothing would answer his musings about her but she herself. So he resolved to finally try and speak with
the woman… either she would answer, or she would not. Either way, staring would gain nothing more than a numb
posterior. Alexander straightened his
clothing and brushed back his straight mane of black hair behind his back once
more.
With little more effort than a
twitch of one leg, he hopped off the stage, gradually approaching the end of
the bar. He didn’t bother to think on
what he would say to the woman. Rarely
did he need to think on speaking to people, for the right thing nearly always
came to him when he needed it. Before
he knew it, Alexander stood before her.
He put a hand to his chest and inclined his head deferentially. He wasn’t sure why, but at drawing near to
her, he had an unexplainable feeling that this woman was much different from
any he had encountered.
Although she hadn’t made any
indication that she noticed his gesture, Alexander knew she had. Although he couldn’t see her eyes at all,
instinct told him that they were settled on him directly. The weight of her gaze was a palpable thing. He could feel
the woman looking at him. It was as
though she were looking right through to his heart from beneath the confines of
her hood. By only little did he manage
not to falter in his approach… the feeling was extremely unnerving.
“Good evening.” Alexander greeted. “May I sit?” He said,
gesturing to the bar stool beside the woman.
Finally she lifted her head
slightly. For a moment she made no
other move, only looked at him a bit longer, but eventually she shrugged her
shoulders and made a dismissive wave.
“You may do as you like… this place
does not belong to me.” Came a whisper
that stilled Alexander’s movement.
The hand that had made the wave
returned anew to the woman’s lap, and she said no more. But
her voice… He thought. Hovering only half on the stool he stared at
her for a moment. Never in his life had
he heard a voice like that. So pleasant
and musical, sounding more like beautiful birdsong than any sound a person
would make when speaking, her voice both startled and amazed Alexander. He sat down quickly after getting over the
initial shock he’d felt at her speaking, more intrigued than ever about this
strange woman.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” He
inquired, and felt her eyes on him once more.
“Where are you from?”
The laugh came immediately, sounding
like the tinkling of bells and entrancing Alexander. The woman turned in her seat to face him easier.
“Why do you ask, child?” She questioned, laughter still in her
already strange voice.
“Well I…” He stammered. Never had a woman asked him a question of a
question such as that, since most were enthralled to have the handsome fellow
speak to them at all. It was odd to be
called “child” as well. He was
twenty-three, far beyond the age of a boy, and this woman didn’t seem older
than him in any case. For the moment,
he ignored the comment, far more interested in the woman’s origin then. “I’m a little curious I suppose. I haven’t seen a new face in here for a long
time.”
The woman was silent for a moment,
and when she spoke again she sounded more thoughtful than amused.
“That is a fine question, then. Where am I from…” She mused, then shrugged
her shoulders. “I have not been home in
years. I suppose, though, that I could
tell you. You call the place Scotland…
will that suffice?” She added with a
hint of a smile in her voice.
Alexander grinned. He had been to Scotland before to attend a
family reunion three years back. He’d
fallen in love with the place, dear old Abigail, and had always thought of
returning to stay. Apparently though,
he had completely over sighted anyone who was remotely like this woman.
“Scotland, really?” He nodded with a smile. “Yes, that does seem fitting. Forgive me if I’m prying, but which family
do you call your own?”
She made a slight musing sound
before answering. “It would be
pointless to give you the name. It has faded
so far, through one age after another.
You will never have heard of it, I am certain.”
“Ah ha.” Alexander mused, rubbing his chin. His usual confidence was returning because of the fact that the
woman was actually speaking to him at all.
“So your family name has faded way into the country’s history, and you
said that I would ‘call’ the place Scotland.
What would you call it, if not by that name?”
The woman snickered slightly at his
obvious intrigue. She decided that she
liked this boy, and wondered how much she should tell him. Or rather, how much he might believe. History had forgotten her family, forgotten
the name of her home and even the existence of her people. She waved the question away in the end.
“It is unimportant.” She sighed.
“But what of yourself? Where do
you call home?”
Alexander put up his hands, as if in
a warding gesture. “Hey, you don’t want
to hear about me, my lady. I’m just
some normal guy with an average, boring life.”
He laughed. “But it’s fine if
you don’t want to talk about your history.
Can I at least hope for an answer as to what brings you here, wherever
you came from? I don’t need
particulars, and excuse my saying, but you really interest me. Any little tidbit would do.”
The woman sighed anew. It wouldn’t do any harm to tell him some,
she decided. He probably wouldn’t
understand anyhow. She nodded a bit,
smiling under her hood.
“All right.” She said, and lifted her head just enough so
she could see his face, though he still could not see hers. “I am looking for someone, and I know that
he comes here often enough. Perhaps you
even know him.”
“I see. An old friend, or maybe…” He trailed off, painting a pout on his
face. “A lover, even?”
The woman smirked, musing at the
near accuracy of Alexander’s guess.
“Aye, I might have called him such once.” She went quiet, and he listened for more with rapt
attention. To his delight, she did not
disappoint.
“Indeed, he was a friend first and
last, and once a fine lover for a time.”
She closed her eyes, remembering.
“Nine millennia have passed since I saw him last, my dearest, most
trusted friend. I know not even his
name now, but I will know him when he finally comes here. Nigh will I lose him again, for ever was he
my right hand.”
She opened her eyes with a sigh and
peered up at the face of her listener.
Alexander was staring at her, blinking with one eyebrow raised so high
that it disappeared under the curtain of his dark hair. He drew in a short breath and tried vainly
to make his lips form the proper words.
“Oookay…” He finally managed to get
out. “You said… nine millennia, right? As
in nine thousand years?” He caught her
barely perceptible nod and a grin and, finally, she lifted her face enough for
him to see her eyes.
He was about to laugh at what he
though was a good joke, but upon seeing her eyes, Alexander’s mouth fell
open. The eyes were purple. Not artificially though, since he searched
carefully for any sign that she was wearing colored contact lenses. He swallowed the odd lump in his throat,
coming to the strangest realization of his life. This woman was not joking.
There was no way to explain how he knew this but, just as he knew that
she had been looking at him when he could not see, this knowledge was
instinctive.
“Who are you?” He whispered, awestruck by the beauty and
perfection and utter strangeness to the woman.
She gave him a lopsided grin and
tapped one slender finger against her chin.
“That does need a little background, does it not?” He nodded, and so did she, laughing quietly. Why
not tell him? She thought. Perhaps such a tale needed telling, else it
might fade away like everything else.
“Then that you shall have. What
is your name, boy?”
Before he could say any more, she
clasped his wrist in hers, gesturing that he do the same. He did, though his hand shook slightly. She pulled him and both chairs further into
the room’s deep shadows, whispering a few words in a language that Alexander
did not understand. Though he did
notice the strange quiet, since the room had been so noisy only a moment
ago. The woman ignored his puzzlement
and gathered her thoughts for what she would tell him.
“Well met then, sir Raven.” She said with a laugh. “I shall tell you quite a tale, if you wish
to hear it.”
“Please…” He breathed, entirely
in the thrall of this odd woman.
“I think that a curious gentleman as
yourself will believe it, even.” She
chuckled, nodding. “As you wish, you
shall have a bit of my history. I must
only ask you not to interrupt, and to tell no one. They probably would be disinclined to believe you, anyway.”
Alexander nodded wordlessly, eager
to hear what she would say. Taking a
deep breath, she pulled back her hood completely, revealing the truth of her
long forgotten heritage. From beneath
the mass of stark white hair poked the points of her ears. The slenderness of her face and hands was as
obvious as the sharpness of her deep, luminous purple eyes, and Alexander lost
his breath for a moment. She smiled at
him, patting his shoulder reassuringly.
“My name is Amedaeus Ra’Aeleth, and
as you can see, I am an elf. I was born
eleven thousand years ago in the forest of Ganagier, the kingdom of my father,
which you now call Scotland. Once the
only princess and now the queen, strangely enough, I roam the lands in search
of my closest loved ones and countrymen who have been long lost to me…
“And yes, you may touch them if you
must.” Amedaeus interrupted her
thought, rolling her eyes at Alexander.
He was staring at her ears as though he needed to feel them in order to
be sure that his sanity was intact. She
pulled her hair aside for him, and he did so, slowly and carefully, making
certain that his fingers registered the same thing his eyes did.
The man leaned back against the
bar. “You’re really…?!” He trailed off, his mouth agape.
“Yes, I am.” Absentmindedly replied the elf.
Amedaeus peered behind the bar to
the wine shelf for a moment and made a beckoning gesture to one of the
bottles. To her captive audience’s
shock, the bottle responded. It came
straight to her hand, as did a second glass when she motioned for that. She poured out a generous portion for each
of them, smiling at Alexander.
“Worry not.” She grinned to him while setting the bottle
at her elbow. “No one noticed, and I
shall pay him for it later.”
He merely stared in amazement, not
at all caring whether or not anyone noticed a bottle floating across the
room. “How did you do that?” He breathed, unable to bring his voice above
a whisper.
The elf gave him a withering
look, one that asked if he were entirely stupid.
“Heavens, my young friend, don’t you
read?” She snorted. “Your fantasy stories, whether written or
filmed have some truth in them these days.
Few realize it, but it is so.”
She sighed, gesturing that he drink
his wine. Alexander obeyed and
refrained from any further gawking or questioning. The elf seemed to notice, tipping her glass to him before taking
a small sip.
“Now,” She continued with a
smile. “If I may continue my tale, I
shall tell you of the man I have come to find this night. Perhaps, then, you will know him as he is
now. Try not to interrupt, and I shall
do my best to tell it so that you might comprehend.
“And get cozy.” Amedaeus added with a half smile. “It may end up a longer story than I suspect.”
Alexander Raven nodded
wordlessly and shoved his hair back out of his face once more. He leaned forward and settled his elbow upon
the bar, waiting. And so, Amedaeus
Ra’Aeleth, elven queen of Ganagier began her tale, staring into the eyes of the
man. Her words combined with an all but
forgotten magic allowed him to literally see the tale, as though a projector
had been placed behind his eyes.