Palace Library
General Tyrên: You seem quite well acquainted with the ways of the Elädorn Tribe, Your Highness.
Elva: (Eyes fixed on the ceiling) [I'm not answering that.]
Commandant Philip: But no matter what, they remain subjects of the Emperor.
General Tyrên: Force is not always required, Commandant.
Commandant Philip: H…
General Tyrên: Your Majesty, even if they were to offer aid, villages and inhabitants without protection lie scattered across Elfland…
Elflord: That is precisely why I shall issue my decree to all unprotected inhabited regions: evacuate at once to the nearest secure territories. I will determine how best to accommodate the influx of warriors.
General Tyrên & Commandant Philip: (Saluting in unison) Yë, Your Majesty.
General Tyrên turns to depart, then pauses and faces the throne once more.
General Tyrên: Your Majesty, forgive this subject for presuming to request a favour.
The Elflord regards him with calm, permitting eyes.
General Tyrên: If it pleases the Emperor, I would be honoured to challenge Her Highness, Princess Wood, to a duel.
Elva: Pardon?
General Tyrên: I have heard rumours that Her Highness is a Combat Master.
Elva: [What rumours?!]
She glances frantically at Alf, shaking her head in vigorous denial.
Alf merely looks away, fingers tracing the ancient artifact resting upon the arm of his throne.
Elflord: Tyrên, if you wish to pursue this, you should address your request to the one standing behind you.
Elva: [Alf!]
General Tyrên: Ah. Forgive my absentmindedness. Princess Wood… (turning to her) …would you grant my request?
Elva: General Tyrên, I am nowhere near your level of com—
An Elf-Soldier bursts in, breathless, and leans to whisper in Commandant Philip's ear.
Commandant Philip: Your Majesty.
All eyes turn to him.
Sea of Myrrh
Waves lap gently at the shore.
Alf emerges from the water, soaked through, cradling a small Hina in his arms.
Alf: Last of them.
Elva steps forward and gently takes the child.
Elva: (Softly to the Hina) You're soaked to the bone.
She kneels, drawing the little one close.
A deep breath in—wind swirls around them both, billowing her robes outward like sails.
She exhales slowly.
The wind fades.
The Hina's body and hair are now perfectly dry, though tousled.
Elva: How do you feel?
Hina: Fine.
Elva ruffles his hair further with a warm chuckle, then lets him scamper off to join the others.
A tiny Wendi tugs gently at the hem of Alf's dripping robe as he shrugs it on.
Little Wendi: Mister?
Alf: (Glancing down).
Little Wendi: (Pointing) Poodle-Doo is being taken away by the waters.
Alf: (Tilts his head). Should I save it?
Little Wendi: (Nodding eagerly) Mm.
Alf regards the drifting wooden toy.
He extends a hand.
Fingers move in slow, graceful arcs.
A slender worm of water rises from the sea, cradling Poodle-Doo.
It glides forward, deposits the toy gently in Wendi's waiting palms, playfully pokes her nose, then melts back into the waves.
The simple seemingly magic draws the other Hinan like moths.
NOTE: Hinan is the plural of Hina.
Ũra (FõLa) means Boy.
Wendi: Mister, you are a Waterbower!
Ũra 1: Make more tricks! We love them.
Hinan: Yeah!
Alf: (Voice softening with rare warmth) Tricks?
Ũra 2: Hm-Mm.
Little Wendi: My mother said those who live close to water have tails when they swim.
Ũra 2: But his tail was too beautiful to be real. Unless… (gasps) …Mister…
Wendi: Are you a real Mer-Elf?
Ũra 2: Hey 😠!
Alf reaches down and gently rubs little Wendi's head.
Alf: Oh, lum'në Iel Hinan and your thoughts.
Elva walks at a direction, her gaze soft.
Elva: Uo, me Hina.
Alf's eyes shift from the children at the sound of her voice.
NOTE: FõLa translations:
"…lum'në Iel Hinan…" → "…you little children…"
"Uo, me Hina" → "Oh, my child"
Elva squats before a small, weeping Hina—Graybark.
Elva: What's the matter? Why are you crying?
Graybark: Graybark misses Mama.
Elva: You'll see Mama soon.
Graybark: No one wants… (sniffles, then bursts into fresh tears) …wants to play with Graybark!
Elva: That's not true. (Thinking) Ooh, I know.
She draws her unsheathed dagger and starts to offer it—
Narrator: Tah! Elvÿndia Wood!
Elva: [(Startled) Jeez, what?!]
Narrator: How can you think of handing a weapon to an Iel Hina?
Elva: [It won't harm him. I used to play with such things when I was a Hina. Even Ernest…]
Narrator: And what happened every single time you did?
Memories flicker—sharp objects repeatedly confiscated from her and Ernest as children.
Elva quickly sheathes the dagger before Graybark can reach it.
She lets out a sheepish chuckle.
Her gaze finds another Ũra—Armor—sulking apart from the rest. She calls him nigh.
Elva: What's your name, young one?
Armor: Name given to me is Armor.
Elva: (Nodding gently) Armor. Why are you angry?
Armor: I am being oppressed by those menaces. I dislike them so much!
Elva: [If this were my former self, I'd have said "Oppress them back".] (Soft exhale) [But I can't. Not with this Dragon Spirit.] Armor…
Few Hinan: Miss, we need you over here!
Elva: Coming! Wait for me, Armor.
She rises and hurries off.
Graybark reaches out playfully toward Armor.
Armor shakes the hand away.
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