I realize that there may be readers who don't know the full scope of the character I'll be writing about here but hopefully, and in time, I'll find a way to better describe who she is and what she and her lost loved ones mean as I forge onward with tales from her past. This is just one short story from the perspective of the exiled elf, Nymaya.
Barren Memories
There was a barren aspect to everything as her footsteps moved with
silent care along the faint etchings of a pathway that had once
been lined with small white flowers and stones. The wind sang a
mournful tune through the long grass, the weeds that had long ago
overtaken the beautiful gardens and the simple wooden swing that hung
by threads now, creaking softly in the wind's cradling grasp.
It was eerie, and so very painful.
...what is mortal will, when set against the divine...
Dry leaves lifted and spun in gentle circles as she stopped at a
junction of paths that had so long been overrun with flora. One path
lead toward the decrepit swing and the heavy limbs of the old Vallenwood.
The other path lead toward the now overgrown fountain, which was but a
shadow of the coral white it had been. The roses she had planted to honor
it centuries ago, now choked what was left. Fitting, she thought bitterly,
and found her gaze turning away to look at the simple bench that sat off
to the side.
...like a grain of sand in the desert
trying to change the desert around it...
The words - her words - whispered back to her from a different time, a
different person. She closed her eyes, truly feeling the pangs of loss
grip her heart for the first time.
...the path is there, for the sand is what makes it
it exists not for the sand to trod on, but instead be trod upon...
Desert references. She shook her head at the irony in the statements as
she and Linot had bandied words here, in the presence of Alinashya.
"So long ago." She whispered, echos of past frustrations and enduring pain
within.
She leaned down to gently brush her fingers over the weathered bench,
wanting with all her soul to simply break it, as if doing so might erase
the memory and the pain it brought on.
Linot was dead. Why was Linot dead?
There was a barren aspect to everything as her footsteps moved with
silent care along the faint etchings of a pathway that had once
been lined with small white flowers and stones. The wind sang a
mournful tune through the long grass, the weeds that had long ago
overtaken the beautiful gardens and the simple wooden swing that hung
by threads now, creaking softly in the wind's cradling grasp.
It was eerie, and so very painful.
...what is mortal will, when set against the divine...
Dry leaves lifted and spun in gentle circles as she stopped at a
junction of paths that had so long been overrun with flora. One path
lead toward the decrepit swing and the heavy limbs of the old Vallenwood.
The other path lead toward the now overgrown fountain, which was but a
shadow of the coral white it had been. The roses she had planted to honor
it centuries ago, now choked what was left. Fitting, she thought bitterly,
and found her gaze turning away to look at the simple bench that sat off
to the side.
...like a grain of sand in the desert
trying to change the desert around it...
The words - her words - whispered back to her from a different time, a
different person. She closed her eyes, truly feeling the pangs of loss
grip her heart for the first time.
...the path is there, for the sand is what makes it
it exists not for the sand to trod on, but instead be trod upon...
Desert references. She shook her head at the irony in the statements as
she and Linot had bandied words here, in the presence of Alinashya.
"So long ago." She whispered, echos of past frustrations and enduring pain
within.
She leaned down to gently brush her fingers over the weathered bench,
wanting with all her soul to simply break it, as if doing so might erase
the memory and the pain it brought on.
Linot was dead. Why was Linot dead?
