Forbidden Choices

by Jen Weddle

Chapter 15

  I plop down on my bed defeated grasping the leather-bound book with all of my secret history inside. That’s it… if I can’t beat them… I may as well join them. I sit cross-legged on the bed and flip to page one.

  There’s a drawing of what appears to be a beautiful Elf. It’s an intricately done sketch of a girl with wispy black hair and eyes as green as the forest trees. One strand is tucked behind her ear, which is longer, and pointer than any human ear. But that appears to be the only marking that makes her stand out. My eyes scan to the second page where it gives a brief introduction:

  Wood Elves are impossibly fast. They like to be sneaky and they can escape any dangerous situation. The female elves have the ability to enchant their male counterparts… if it’s male it can be enchanted. They often are born with several abilities: Healing, Nature Manipulation, Teleportation and Charm.

  If you come across a male Wood Elf: run. They are highly dangerous and do not like to be bothered… unless you are a female Wood Elf.

  The elves can be spotted by their familiar markings… glowing eyes, pointy ears and scroll tattoos that go up their left arm. These can only be spotted in the moonlight. Otherwise, they look like us. Don’t be fooled if you spot a Wood Elf. They are not friendly to humans.

  I flip the book over. This was written by a human? It has to be ancient. A few centuries old by the leather cover and condition. How would a human know about this world?

  I close the book and look at the cover. At the very bottom in elaborate writing is the name John Oliver. The title reads: Mythical Beasts and Creatures and How to Identify Them

  Why would Theo give me a book written by a human? There has to be a better book then some hypothetical explanation of what these things are… the title even says “Mythical.”

  I flip to the second page hoping for more answers.

  The next page begins a journal:

  John Oliver

  Oct. 15. 1842

  My Dearest Merian:

  I miss you dearly. You were the most enchanting creature that I have ever met. I know you told me that it is too dangerous to be near you, but I need to. I feel like I shall die if I am not close to you. You are wonderful. You told me that we were soul mates. I believe you. I have dreamed of you since I was a small child. My dreams consisted of trees and beautiful creatures that do not actually exist.

  You are the only one who understands. I am not just a human. I’m a Halfling.

  Halfling…didn’t Riley say he was a Halfling? I continue to read:

  I hope you will not think it is too forward of me to say but one day I will marry you. I don’t care if Halflings have been shunned from the Kingdom because their blood is impure. I need you. It doesn’t matter if we have to run away. There is a war starting here. I can feel it. I know I will have to participate, but I’ll keep you close by for comfort. One day we will meet again, my beautiful Princess.

  I gasp and look at the first page once more. This time I look more closely. Grandma, she’s a Wood Elf. Something suddenly occurs to me. I go outside to my balcony where I can see the light of the moon clearly reflecting upon the metal bars.

  I stand there for a moment breathless. I’ve finally figured out who I am… I hold my breath and roll up the sleeve of my left arm. I place it directly in the moonlight and gasp as the skin starts to transform. Purple veins interlock and connect swirling mysteriously into an intricate pattern of scrolling artwork. I touch my ears and they’ve become swollen and enlarged the very tips of them growing past my headline. I turn around to glance at the reflection in the window and see that my eyes have become purple glowing globes of light. My pale skin glows in the moonlight as if I am part ghost.

  I sit down in the chair. And put my hands in my palms.

  I’m an Elf. It all makes sense. No wonder I never felt like a human… it’s because I myself am a “Mythical” creature.

  “So you’ve figured it out.” Croaks a voice from the shadows.

  “Who’s there?” I demand.

  “An old friend.” The voice replies.

  “If you are a friend, you wouldn’t need to hide in the shadows.”

  “It’s me.”

  A gentleman in a white suit and matching white top hat with a golden bow tie and golden handkerchief poking daintily from his pocket appears. His hair is as white as freshly fallen snow, and a golden chain attached to an intricate pocket watch hangs loosely from his neck.

  “Do I know you? “I ask.

  “Yes.” He replies. He takes my hand and places a quick peck on it, getting on one knee to bow before me. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

  He removes the pocket watch and clicks the top knob of it. A cloud of shimmering white smoke appears and then swiftly fades out of sight to reveal an elegant, strong bird.

  “I am Lucin, my dear lady.” He croaks once more.

  “Lucin. Why have you come back?”

  “The traitor has decided he will reveal himself tomorrow at the stroke of Midnight.”

  “Who is this traitor? I have seen a lot of traitors today.” I answer looking warily up at the sky.

  “Those are not traitors. They are your friends and you cannot see them as conspirators, or you will lose sight of the truth.” The bird eyes me carefully.

  I stare at him.

  “Just be careful. Pick your friends wisely.”

  And with that the bird flaps his powerful wings, leaving only a gentle breeze behind him.

  I’ve figured out the secret… I’m a Wood Elf.

  I need to find my grandmother. She’ll be able to answer everything for me. I tuck the book back in my backpack and leave it on my bed.

  Then I change my mind and take the book back out holding it by my side. I run down the spiral staircase towards the kitchen where Ambrosia Winters is gossiping with some of the other cooks. They grow quiet when they see me.

  “Ambrosia, do you know where Grandmother is?” I ask.

  “She’s in the library where she always is at this hour, my dear.”

  “Thank you.” I reply, quickly turning away and realizing that I don’t know where the library is.

  “It’s at the end of the hall on the third floor, second door on your left.” Ambrosia answers as if reading my mind. I smile and nod my head.

  I rush back up the stairs to a floor I have not yet seen. It’s similar to the second floor with all white marble and doors of different types of sizes. This door is much larger and grander than the others. I find the second door on my left and turn the antique, golden doorknob. The door creaks gently. I peer in.

  “Grandmother?”

  Silence is the only response I get as I tiptoe inside.

  “Hello?” My voice echoes in the sprawling room.

  It’s a room filled with more books than I thought existed in the world. The shelves reach the top of the ceiling and there are books in piles all around the room. They overflow on the shelves and the room gives off a musty odor as I peer at the titles of the unorganized books. There’s a long table in the center of it with more piles of books and dimly lit candles haphazardly sitting next to them.

  The chandeliers are twice as big as any of the other ones I’ve seen in the house. At the end of the room is a dimly lit fireplace that crackles soothingly and a tall chair sits facing the fireplace. I can hear snoring coming from the chair. A mirror sits by the chair reflecting Grandmother with a book on her lap and her legs outstretched on the ottoman in front of her. I walk to the candles and blow the first one out.

  “Who’s there?” My grandmother shouts.

  “It’s me.” I reply. “Alison.”

  “You’re going to give your poor, old Grams a fright blowing out those candles.”

  “The creaking door and when I was shouting your name didn’t wake you but blowing out a candle did?” I ask laughing.

  “What did you need my dear?”

  “I was wondering if you could answer a question for me.” I ask, plopping down in the empty chair n
ext to her. I hand her the old, leather-bound book.

  She gasps.

  “Where did you find this?” She inquires. “I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”

  “Theo gave it to me.” I whisper. She appears to look relieved.

  “I must have forgotten I gave it to the boy. I wanted to give it to you myself, but I couldn’t remember where I put it.” She laughs heartily.

  “Yes. Well, have you read any of it then?”

  “Only the first two pages.”

  “So you know then, what I am?” She examines.

  “Yes.”

  “But who is John Oliver?”

  “Your Grandfather…” She looks at the fire dreamily with a sad expression on her face. “He was quite the adventurer, you know.”

  “I almost didn’t marry him, but I had a brother who married a Princess, which gave me the freedom to marry whomever I chose. My father was not happy, but my mother had a law written and passed that only one of the siblings had to marry Royalty. The other one could marry whomever they deemed worthy.”

  “So that’s why Olivia and Viktor can’t be together?” I question.

  “It seems so. We aren’t allowed to change the law because it has a curse on it. If we break the law and allow both of you to marry outside of Royalty then you’ll both be cursed. It was the only way my father would agree to the new law.” She sighs. “He was a stubborn man.”

  “So I have to be with Riley.”

  “No.” She replies.

  “But you said, we’d be cursed.”

  “Not exactly, the law was written rather vaguely. If the two siblings have connected truly with the other person who is not of Royal blood then you will not be cursed. But if you’re not truly connected then all four people will be instantly cursed. You won’t be killed; you’ll just sleep for all of eternity.”

  “Well… what’s the difference?” I ask. “Your father should have just killed the cursed ones.”

  “That would be too easy.” She says scowling. “He wanted them to suffer for their betrayal so if they were cursed, they’ll forever be tossed in a dream world where they believe they’re tortured for all eternity.”

  “That sounds awful.” I reply.

  “So why doesn’t Grandfather have the same last name as you?”

  “I took my name back after he was killed.” She replies gazing at the flickering flames of the dimly lit fire.

  “He was murdered?”

  “Yes he was murdered, but I was pregnant with your mother before it happened and we were secretly married. Then, he had to go to war and since he was a Halfling—he had to choose a side.”

  “The Elves would not take him because he was not a full-blooded elf and the humans accepted him because they didn’t know what he truly was. He was killed by a poisoned arrow during the Great War, and he never got to see your mother.” She whispers. “I-I tried to revive him with my Healing ability, but I had waited too long and he died.”

  “So my father won and I married a Prince from another realm… I didn’t live happily ever after and your mother doesn’t know that the man who raised her was not her real father.”

  “Why not?” I demand.

  “It was one of the conditions I had to deal with. My father tricked this Prince into believing the child was his by implanting memories into him. He was a Dark Elf, which means he could use his abilities for illusion and trickery.”

  “There are different types of Elves?”

  “Yes, my dear. You’ll just have to continue reading the journal. Mr. Oliver was an educated man and he understood the Elves better than they ever understood themselves. He went above and beyond to analyze and study the creatures of Newhollow. This journal is better than any book you’ll find in this library written by fools and half-wits.” She replies. “I’m tired. That’s all the questions I can answer for tonight.”

  She stands up, her bones creak and she plants a kiss on my forehead.

  “Good night, Grandmother.”

  “Good night, dear.”