A quest for fools

[Bohemond]

Several massive trees grew out of the center of the glade, joining their branches to those of the encircling trees in a massive canopy. A small dwelling could be glimsped amongst the upper branches, high above the mist that clung to the ground.

An old elf, his hands folded protectively in the pits of his arms, watched the back of a young elf, who sat facing a large pond where the mist was thickest.

The young elf did not speak for a time, and then slowly. "None of my captors would come see to my release themselves?"


"I had feared that this day might rekindled something of this sort."


The young elf turned and looked at the old one a moment, a long one as measured by the rustling sound of the leaves above, before turning back to the water before him.


The old one sighed. "Even you put forth that what has been done, painful or cruel or un-elven as it might be, has been for the best."


"I had not thought this moment to be so empty."


The old one remained impassive."Did you expect a proud return?"


"No. I had not thought on it at all"


A stiff breeze ran through the glade, and the old trees in the glade groaned.


The old one slowly sat in place."In truth, I worry for you my young friend. You cannot stay here-"


"Can I not?" The young one interrupted.


The old one smiled with a facade of innocence."Can you? The lives of most elves here have changed little since it began that you were kept here."


"I suppose not then." The young one looked down into the water, then delicately dipped a finger into the surface, his reflection rippling and spreading and breaking."Once I would have preferred a formal exile."


"Once." The old one agreed.

The young one removed his finger from the pond. "Will you show me your hands?"

The old one rose and ambled over to the edge of the pond. From under his armpits he unhooked his hands, raising his arms to let his long robes fall back from around them. He knelt beside the young elf, his elbows on his knees, holding his hands out in display.

The young one turned over one of the old one's hands delicately, maimed and blackened as they were. "Do you forgot?"

The old one smiled. "No."

Looking back at the water, the young one said nothing.


"Do you recall of the Order of the Forgotten Flower?"

"Recall the Forgotten Flower?" The young one smiled at the water.

"Witticisms aside."

"The Forgotten Flower." The young one looked up from the water. "You refer to those fools who take upon as their quest wandering about, hoping to accidentally pick up an elven relic."

The old one smiled widely. "Not all are wastrels, or fools. Perhaps you will be one of them."


"I see then." The young one turned and regarded the old one. "A relic, returned to its people, the price of a social redemption."

The old man smiled."Corellon aids you."

[johnlewismcleod]

Brilliant!...more please

[danielmn]

I agree.