Forest Elves by Rose E. Watson (classic fiction .TXT) 📖

Forest Elves

My long red/blonde streaked braided hair swished in the wind, with sword in hand I looked down on my kill while standing on top of it, a dragon. There are different dragons in the world some good, some bad, and some in-between. I swiftly jumped off my prey, hit the ground and stood with my purple blood stained sword, Goliath, in hand. Goliath is my sword, it was named that for a reason, it is a long sleek giant sword. My Grandfather knew I was ready to wield it this year because of my sixteenth birthday, I was training with it, or breaking it in. By the way I’m no ordinary person, I’m a wood elf. You may think all we do is gather supplies, chop trees, and sing songs while working, your sadly mistaken. Rule number one: never underestimate a wood elf. Sometimes people call us forest elves, and to be perfectly honest I like that better.

We hunt, we wield, we live. Forest elves can be mistaken as humans but once you see our irregular magical eyes, our creamy skin, long pointed embroidered ears, and giant weapons you’ll never underestimate us again. You could say some of us our stubborn, and I am one of them. My mother is tough, she makes the water repellent fabric and other fabrics for hunting. She has a shop in town, you could say she’s a tailor but that would be underestimating her as well. As stubborn as I am, I won’t work in town with her, I can’t sit in one place for that long I have to hunt. When my mother gave birth to me on the night of the full moon, I was dead (or so they thought). Even though I looked dead I could hear their anguishing screams, something inside of me burst . It looked like something was attacking me from the inside, no one knew what was happening. I was lifted into the air and a blue light came from the moon and covered my tiny body. Taking my first breath, I looked around then fell asleep.

I was always special even though I didn’t know how but I knew I’d figure it out so I put it aside and waited to find out. Scraping the purple blood of my sword onto a patch of grass I wondered where my father was this moment. He was most likely off on one of his hunting adventures. I always admired my father with his short chestnut beard and medium long chestnut hair. Dressed in green for camouflage his leather boots with brass buckles and a brown/green hooded cloak with a tree emblem. His long shining dwarven battle sword, Zeus, standing in the sunlight peering through the clouds with his long ivory bow, Atheidas, with his leather deer skin quiver full of cherry wood arrows with hawk feathers as the quills.

My father is my hero, knowing everything he’s done, fighting in the war, hunting dragons and giant beasts. I’ve always wanted to be just like him. Everyday when we go to the woods to pray and worship God, his voice is so deep and thick. One talent I was really gifted with was my voice, it was light like a feather and somewhat rich like syrup we get from our forest’s maple trees. I loved to sing, I was embarrassed to sing around anyone except myself and animals. Leaving the endlessly blank plain, walking through the ancient giant forest with my sword slung on my back and my daggers in my belt, I thought I wonder what made this forest grow so large, nothing could be more glorious! Ok, well maybe a lot of things could be, but walking in this forest is so peacefully and emotions escape me. My souls at rest it feels like I’m dead, but walking. It’s such a different feeling, but I love it, I hear birds echoing in the large place, streams rushing, breeze blowing, a somewhat sweet yet tangy smell. The forest was one of my favorite places to be, I have so many secret spots that I visit all the time.

I glanced up at the sky, then started to stare something was flying, squinting up into the sky I gasped. Taking out my binoculars (made out of leather and glass) I peered up into the sky to see a glistening dagger dragon. Almost mistaking it for a “he” I caught a glance of something between its wings but it steered right to quickly for me to get a good look at it. Curiosity filled my mind while I stuffed my binoculars back into their leather case and into my pack. Thirst overcame my curiosity so I pulled out my drinking horn from my bag and gulped down the cold mint water. Whenever I go hunting my sisters make me special water (on a hot summers day I watched them make it), first they get out a large glass jar with a spigot. Then they fill it with purified water from a special lake, they go out into a corner of a field where a mint patch mysteriously grows. They pick bunches, careful not rip it from the roots, then they mix it in with the water and let it sit in the sun for hours to brew. Once it’s done brewing you add a spoon of wild clover honey then keep stirring, now it’s hot but smells so refreshing and mouth watering. They take it to a pond and let it sit in the shaded water, chilling waiting to be drunk right up.

The thought of all of this made me smile while I drank the slight sweet mint water, such a drink was favored by us but we do have many others as well. I sat on a rock that was small and then looked at a large rock across from me, smiling I ran to it and started to climb up and up and up. Thinking I would never stop climbing I reached the top of the boulder. Looking out from the top the trees were still miles above me, wild life and nature were below my mischievously twinkling blue eyes. I was watching a group of squirrels play tag in a patch of grass, and a butterfly couple fluttering about in the sun light. My eyes spotted a wild hare hiding in a bush and peeking out once and a while. A circle of mushrooms stood proudly while a lady bug rushed to the other side of the mushroom as fast as it could. It was amazing to see all the creatures unafraid and unaware of what was outside the forest, and what was really going on. But instead they were all at peace. Deeper in the wood I could see a group of deer leading across the streams and rocks bounding so brilliantly not knowing if one would be picked off by a dragon as a very small snack.

I heard a voice deep in the wood calling my name most likely one of my sisters, either Arawen, Hazel, or Blair. I squinted into the endless forest to see nothing just whispering of my name through the woods. I wanted to wait and ignore the whispers of my name, and if they really wanted me to come they’d come and get me themselves. But, that attitude would have mother putting me to work in the kitchen for a week! I hate working in the kitchen, it’s so stuffy like your being strangled on a very hot summers day. Everything is so noisy and I’m always falling over things and dropping everything I cook. I’m such a klutz in the kitchen, and that’s one out of many reason why I hate working in the kitchen. I walked to where I could see the face that called my name and it was my second younger sister, Hazel.
“ Mother told me to come and get you to help in the kitchen.”
“ You know I’m not going!”
“ Mother told me you’d be like this so she said if you didn’t help tonight you’d have to work in it all by yourself for a week.”
Frustrated I took out my blade and threw it into an oak tree. Startled Hazel screamed: “ You don’t have to get angry at me because your the stubborn one that never takes your share.”
“ Are we really going to fight in the middle of the forest?”
I went over to my blade a ripped it out of the tree in one pull.
“ I’m not the one fighting!”
“ Then you must be blind because I’m not screaming.”
I said very calmly. She stared at the blade in my hand.
“ Are you going to kill me?”
“ Don’t be silly, I may be mad at the moment but I wouldn’t kill you even if I was more upset than I am now.”
“ Then what are you going to do?”
“ Nothing. Why should I do anything?”
“ No reason.”
“ I’m not coming with you!”
“ Stop being stubborn and just do what you’re told. You better follow me back to the house or mother’s going to have to have Brewtone come after you.”
I remember the big brute that guards our live stock and comes over for dinner sometimes, he always told the best stories.

Reluctantly my sister dragged me along side her (not risking to have me behind her) thoughts of anger burst into my head. I clenched my teeth and made fists of my calm hands. My anger masked me and I didn’t speak. Going into the kitchen I awaited my depressing orders.
“ Ebony, you’re going to make dinner for us tonight.”
I didn’t speak, I just nodded my head and tried to make something edible other than just basic food. Tearing out a cookbook from a shelf I found a page that said beef stew (and while I read over the directions I was stirring up a plan to escape) and instantly started following restless commands from a stupid book. I love to read but when it comes to cookbooks I move on to a fictional story or a dragon history book. Slaving over a hot fire and raging oven, I almost collapsed but I knew that the sooner it was finished the sooner I could escape. It was done, I served it and went back into the kitchen and followed the stairs to my chamber. Flinging things into my pack, I then took hold of my sword and other small pouches and packs I would need. Geared with everything I’d need for a month I jumped out of my window swiftly and landed on my feet. I began to run, looking back to make sure no one was behind me I flung my head in front of me and found my mother. Wanting to run my her I tried making a run for it but she just grabbed me and held me in place. Not daring to look at her face I looked down at my leather sandals.

“ Why are you running away?”
Thrusting my words at her like a knife I said sharply,” Because you slave me in a hot kitchen where I don’t belong.”
“ Don’t thrust your words at me.”
“ I’m telling you the truth and expressing how much I dislike it.”
“ I know you don’t like it.”
“ Then why do you make me a slave to it.”
“ Because you need to.”
“ Because I need to, or because you want me to.”
“ A kitchen is where a