Riddermarch by Ellen Quellery (top 10 motivational books .TXT) 📖

ale then prepare to go home.

The farmer nodded. "S'right. And they agreed to marry. Only, the lady was curious about the legends of the local wood and the Elfking. And like you lot, she didn't believe a word of it. So she went in."

The fair haired aristocrat drew in a breath.

"And what happened?" his friend asked, intrigued.

"She went mad," the farmer said with a nod. "And feelin' 'e was to blame for not keeping 'er from it, Lord Riddermarch married 'er anyway."

"He what?" the first gentleman exclaimed.

"Married her," replied the other gentleman-like hunter.

Several in the room looked to them now. One local man drew in a breath and stepped back, whispering to his friend. The tradesman peered at them, thinking they were familiar somehow, but he could not put his finger on whose sons they were exactly. He finished off the rest of the ale.

"What kind of wife would that be?" exclaimed the first aristocrat.

"Indeed," said the third.

"It was a noble decision," replied the first hunter. He brushed the hood of his damp cloak off his head, gently pushing his autumn hair out from his dark eyes. "Out of respect for the agreement they had made, while giving due respect to her parents. He has taken care of her since."

"And she bore 'im a fair lot of children," commented the farmer who was now blinking at the hunters in recognition. He nodded with a polite bow.

"They've got plenty of 'ouse 'elp," added another, who tipped his hat to the two young men. "The family is well-respected."

"But none of the grown children are out in society," remarked the fair-haired aristocrat. He shook his head and chuckled. "And I hear they are a queer bunch. Strange names, and disturbingly quiet. I could very well believe they are elf kin if the stories are true."

"Or are the sorcerers themselves," muttered the tradesman under his breath, too quiet to be heard. His drunken eyes had fixed on the hunters, not sure what he was seeing was real or a dream.

"Why are they not out in society?" asked the third of the traveling party.

Dark-haired, robust one shrugged. Then he looked to the two hunters and said, "You seem to know a lot about this area. And these folk seem to respect you. What is your take on all this?"

The two hunters shared looks then rose from their table. They nodded to the three gentlemen as they passed payment to one of the inn's workers. "Rumors are rumors."

And they turned to go. With them, they carried a brace of pheasants, shouldering their rifles. The aristocrats noticed their cloaks, while well-worn, were in fact finely made. And the hunters had an air about them that commanded respect. Before they could step out the door, the first aristocrat said, "Gentlemen."

Both hunters turned, sharing yet another look between them.

"I believe we have not been properly introduced," the robust aristocrat said. "I am Ernest Brokwood from Ryewall. These are my companions: Dale Rawling," pointing to the fair-haired gentleman, "and Alder Ildenwite. Are you also here for the anniversary celebration of Lord Baron Rooke?"

Almost smirking, which made his face seem a little more angular and his eyes darker, the more outspoken of the hunters replied, "Though we have been invited, we did not come here for the celebration. Our home is nearby - at Witsend Manor."

The aristocrats drew in breaths.

The other hunter smiled broadly and bowed to them all before departing with his companion. "I am Erleon Riddermarch, and that is my older brother Ranoft." He then tugged at the edge of his hood as if tipping a hat and said, "Good evening."

A hush fell over the inn.

The tradesman quickly paid his tab and hurried out to his home - just in case. For no one wanted to offend the descendants of elves.

Chapter Two: Invitations

 

 

 

The residents of Witsend manor for generations, loved to play with words. The Riddermarches, long before any interference from the Elfking, had always enjoyed naming things with oddities that made them secretly laugh. The name of the manor itself stood as a testament of this. And the village - which they had named Justamere - was tribute to it also. People only assumed the Riddermarches were dullards and fools simply because they did not understand them. Truthfully, the Riddermarch family had always been quite brilliant.

They were also good.

At dawn, the morning after the aristocrats had begun to flood into Justamere, Rookshill and Merrowcreek, the Riddermarch family awoke with the sun.

There were eight children - five of which were of age to be out in society. Letters of invitation, they had assumed had always been sent to them out of politeness. They assume it was because no one dared snub a family descended from elves. But they never attended society events.

It wasn't like they kept up inside the walls of the manor or remained solely on the property and never went into the village ever. But the children liked to stay close to their mother, and preferred the company of the animals that came in from the Dalethorne Forest than the company of other human beings. Ranoft and Erleon spent a great deal of time within the wood, not so much hunting as exploring. Secretly, they could hear the conversation of the trees and the chatter of the animals - and that was about as much society as they cared for. Though, they went into the village to stay connected with the human world for their father's sake.

As for the older daughters - Jastalettle, Azuesh and Grennanod - they spent much of their time in the garden and the wooded lands about, encouraging the plants to grow and listening to the songs of the butterflies and the bees. The youngest three children - Cedatot, Dannalot and Saliferth - mostly remained with their mother and the nannies who took more care of the mother than the children. The children were quite independent and had been once they could walk. They were all advanced for their age.

All the children of Lord Ranalon Riddermarch were fair, with dark eyes and elvish builds. The children's hair were varying shades of the autumn leaves, which, in season sometimes changed color - though never to green. Mostly, their hair lightened with the sun. And whenever they did go out in public, people stared.

That morning, though, when they gathered for breakfast in the airy nook near kitchens - as the Riddermarch family rarely stood on formality - the eldest brothers held open the recent invitation to Lord Baron Rooke's festivities. They were reading it aloud for the tenth time that week.

"We simply have to go," Ranoft finally said. "It's already been going on and we've missed so much.

"Ugh," Azuesh groaned with one hand on her forehead and other holding a buttered crumpet. "What for? It is only their twenty-third anniversary. And the vile baroness despises us."

"Does she really?" asked little Saliferth who was a bright boy of eight and the youngest of the family.

Glancing to their mother who sat dumbly at the end of the table, being spoon-fed by one of the nurses, Jastalettel said, "Unfortunately, yes. She scowls at us every time she sees us in town. She is always riding around in her carriage like a queen, almost like she is lying wait to gloat over us."

"I don't understand why, though," Dannalot muttered, chewing a piece of her jam and toast - a pretty little ten-year-old. "Baroness Rooke has everything."

"Prejudice," declared Grennanod, and nudged away the squirrel that had been standing next to her plate on the table, greedily eying her scone. Since dismissed, it sprang over to Saliferth's plate instead and snatched up one of his strawberries, running off quickly. Her little brother only shook his head at it, while the servants exchanged glances of exasperation. This kind of morning chaos was a daily thing.

There were birds and all sorts of wildlife in the dining room - a regular occurrence, as the Riddermarches frequently left the windows and doors open, and did not seem to know the difference between inside and outside. One bird rested on Cedalot's head as he was feeding it sesame seeds from the top of his bun. Squirrels were running all about the floor with the cats and mice.

"She simply hates us," Grennanod said, giving a cat a scone and shooing it off. "Probably because of the legend."

"She's like a storybook queen," Dannalot interjected, a rabbit on her lap. "Always wants to be at the top, doesn't she? I think she's invited you all to gloat over Mother."

They all looked to their mother who was unresponsive as ever. Her lovely gray eyes stared at nothing. Her head barely supported by her neck, like she was on the verge of falling asleep, yet not quite teetering off. The nursemaids dressed her in simple jumper dresses, as they were easy to wear and put on. If she thought they were unfashionable, no one could tell, for she never fussed about anything. She didn't even cringe, or frown, or flinch. Only on rare occasions did she show any emotion at all.

However, their mother was more beautiful than the baroness ever could be - even in her mute and incapable state. Currently, the nurses were wiping up the red strawberry dribble that was running down to her chin.

The animals always steered clear of her, which saddened the children. They had often thought the companionship of a cat, or a rabbit, or deer would waken their mother from her stupor. But even the butterflies and bees stayed away from her.

"I wonder if Father will ever find a cure for Mother," Erleon murmured with a sigh. He brushed a downy feather from his shoulder, hardly looking at the birds above.

"He would have to find the Elfking to do it," Jastalettel said, shaking her head. "And he has looked for so long."

"I think the Elfking is watching and laughing at us." Ranoft folded his arms.

Erleon shared a look with him. They had long discussed this. The Elfking knew they were his descendants, and yet had not come to claim an heir from them as he had tried with their ancestors in the past. Their father was too old to become an heir now - which is why he ventured lone in the forest and ordered them to stay out. The Elfking wanted a young man to mold in his image. Yet Ranoft and Erleon were exactly of age - and they had ventured in the forest frequently, despite their father's orders not to. And no elf had touched them, though they had seen a fair number. Of course, Cedalot and Saliferth were kept far away from the wood, just in case.

"But this," Ranoft shook the invitation letter in his hands. "This is something we must do. Father is taking care of other family matters. We must step up and act for him in society."

He dropped the invitation on top of the tray of scones, barely missing the jam. Saliferth snatched another scone from underneath, breaking it in half and giving the other part to the squirrel waiting under his chair.

"Society..." Azuesh said dejectedly, taking another strawberry. She plucked up two more and handed them to the fawn who had been eating bits of cake from Dannalot's fingers. "Is it really