Sir Thaydrin the High Elf

by Shawn O'Toole

SIR THAYDRIN THE HIGH ELF

  by

  Shawn O’Toole

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  PUBLISHED BY:

  Cover Art Illustrated by:

  Shawn O’Toole

  Sir Thaydrin the High Elf

  Copyright © Shawn O’Toole 2013

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this story, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Your support and respect for the property of this author is much appreciated.

  This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  SIR THAYDRIN THE HIGH ELF

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  Chapter 1

  “The Stranger”

  Aya was once an assassin whose grim deeds were of renown. Now her lord was dead, her clan vanquished and her once secret name now known to the vengeful enemy. Aya was now a vagabond.

  The woman tread through the forest, avoiding every village and every beaten path. As the west shone red with the setting of the sun, Aya sought a place among the trees and bushes to nestle and sleep. She stopped! She glimpsed a silent phantom disappear ahead of her. Was it an animal? No beast so large could move so swiftly yet so quietly. Was it an assassin? She crept on all fours towards where she had seen the entity disappear. She shivered upon feeling herself being stared at.

  Suddenly a lean, towering figure stepped out in front of her! Aya squeaked and hopped back. Fierce, bright green, inhuman eyes glared down at her from under a hood. Aya stepped back and cringed, too fearful to even draw her sword. The tall stranger raised a long, narrow, open hand and uttered in a rich, resonant voice, “Peace.” He held out both hands. “I mean you no harm.”

  “Uh, are... are you... a spirit?”

  “I am spirit. I am mind. I am flesh and blood.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Dear woman, you have happened upon me.” Aya shivered as the radiant green eyes viewed her. She swooned when they peered into her soul! The voice uttered, “You are lovely. I am pleased to behold your beauty.” The entity outstretched his long, white arms and bowed. “Be at peace, lovely woman.” He then turned to leave.

  “Wait, please!” The stranger stopped. “Sir, where are you going?”

  “Onward.” The entity walked away.

  “Wait, please!” the woman cried.

  The tall one turned around. He seemed to be smiling. Was he amused? “Silly woman, you tremble before me, yet you bid me to stay?”

  “Milord, forgive me!” she knelt and bowed.

  “Rise, woman. I am not your lord. I have come to your world to serve, not to rule.”

  “Forgive me for asking, honorable sir, but whom does one such as you serve?”

  “All who need me.”

  All was quiet except for the chirping of birds and insects and the gurgling of the nearby stream. Aya stared up at the stranger, awestruck. As he gazed upon her, she felt small and ashamed. “Forgive me!” the woman bowed.

  The rich, melodious voice assured, “There is nought to forgive. Be at peace, dear woman.” He then turned and walked away. Aya followed.

  “Forgive me!” she bowed as the tall one again turned to face her.

  “Your curiosity does not offend me.” He stared at her. “You wear a sword. Are you a warrior?”

  “An assassin.”

  “An assassin.”

  “Milord, I am not against you!”

  “I know.”

  “Does my lord know Aya’s every thought before she speaks it?”

  The tall one chuckled. “Do you kill with a sheathed sword?”

  “No, milord.”

  “Woman, your eyes are wide with awe, not squinted with malice. I know you are not against me.”

  Aya quivered and bowed as the stranger came right up to her! She stared at the ground, fearful to look up. She knew if she looked, she would not be looking up at a human face! The weird, dulcet voice of the stranger assured, “I shall not harm you. Unlike man, I am slow to shed the blood of man... or of woman.” He reached down and offered his long, other-worldly hand. Aya feared to touch him. The stranger waited. The woman still hesitated to touch him. The alien extremity remained offered. Such patience! What manner of spirit was this strange entity?! Aya closed her eyes and winced. She took hold of the long hand! It was cool to the touch. The woman was startled when the stranger’s mouth pecked her hand! “Be at peace,” his very voice seemed to smile.

  Aya choked and wept. She looked up, her eyes misty and tears streaming down her cheeks. She nearly fainted being so close to that eerie, fierce yet gentle gaze. The long, pale, sharp face of the stranger had a small mouth and a narrow nose. His slanted, bright green eyes were somehow like the eyes of a wild animal but aglow with divine wisdom. Whoever, whatever he was, he was not human. “Milord, forgive me,” the woman bowed. “I am unworthy to look at you.”

  “Dear woman, you esteem me well beyond my merit.” He looked upon her for a long while then uttered, “Aya?”

  “Milord.”

  “Aya, I am not your lord. I am Sir Thaydrin.”

  “Sir Thaydrin?”

  “Yes. I have come to your world to fulfill a quest. Do you wish to come with me?”

  “Yes!”

  “I am not your lord, thus, if you wish to come with me, then you shall come with me.”

  “Yes!” the woman smiled.

  “Be heedful, bold woman, for my quest is fraught with peril. Enemies of my kind shall seek your life if you are with me. Depart from me now or whensoever you choose and you shall bear no shame.”

  “Aya understands.”

  “Do you?”

  The girl shook her head, but explained, “Aya is an assassin. Aya does what Aya must do whether she knows why or not.”

  “You prize loyalty.”

  “Yes.”

  Sir Thaydrin nodded. “Dear Aya, though I fear for you... my heart is glad that you are with me.”

  The woman followed the tall stranger, neither of them speaking. As dusk darkened into night, Sir Thaydrin sat under a tree. Aya presumed to join him. “Sir Thaydrin?”

  “Yes, Aya.”

  “Do you sleep?”

  “Sometimes. Perhaps I shall sleep this night.”

  “Aya will humbly take first watch.”

  “Nay. Though I am weary, I am not drowsy.”

  “Sir Thaydrin?”

  “Yes, Aya.”

  “What are you?”

  “The father of your race named us ‘elf.’ We are the elves.”

  “The father of Aya’s race?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is Sir Thaydrin here?”

  “I seek a woman-fay.”

  “A woman-fay?”

  “Yes. She whom I seek is born of the union of my kind with your kind.”

  “What is her name?”

  “I do not know, but she is known to the dark elves, my enemy. She is of their seed.” The elf looked at Aya. “She lives among you. Tell me, woman: Do you know of one who is strange among you?”

  “Kamiko?” Aya thought aloud.

  “Divine-child.”

  “Yes. Kamiko the Witch. They say her mother was a seer who consorted with demons. They say Kamiko is the daughter of a dem
on. Kamiko can curse people to a horrible death if they offend her.”

  The elf thought to himself and nodded. “It would seem that this Kamiko is the one whom I seek. Aya, is Kamiko dear to you?”

  Aya shook her head and answered, “Only heard of her.”

  “Will you bring me to her?”

  “Yes,” the woman nodded. “Kamiko lives in the mountains to the northeast, about two or three days from here.”

  The elf nodded, but made no comment.

  “Sir Thaydrin?”

  “Yes, Aya.”

  “What are you going to do when you find Kamiko?”

  “I shall gaze into her eyes. If I see a friend, I shall bring her with me. If I see an enemy, I shall kill her.”

  “Kill?”

  “Perhaps.” The elf could see the woman’s concern. “Tell me, Aya: What troubles you?”

  “What if Kamiko curses you?” Sir Thaydrin chuckled. “Forgive me, milord! Sir Thaydrin is divine and cannot be cursed!”

  The elf laughed. He caressed the woman’s cheek, startling her. He stroked her coarse, black hair and gazed into her dark eyes. Though fearful, she could not look away! “We shall see, my sweet Aya, if her wit is as sharp as my sword or her magic as strong as my hands.”

  Aya awoke to the chirping of birds and the gentle light of morning. She had fallen asleep?! Sir Thaydrin sat next to her. His hood was pulled back. His hair was long and golden and fastened behind his head. His ears were narrow and pointed! Was he a fox-spirit? “Good morning, little Aya.”

  “Good morning...,” the human bowed her head, “sir.”

  The elfin warrior stuck a plump caterpillar in his mouth, chewed and swallowed! He sipped from a wooden flask and ate nuts and berries.

  Sir Thaydrin’s cloak was colored like the forest: streaks and spots of green, black and brown. He wore no shirt underneath: his hairless arms and chest firm and strong. Sir Thaydrin’s only other clothes were boots and green trousers.

  “Sir Thaydrin, did you sleep?”

  “Yes.”

  Aya so much wanted to touch his golden hair. She wanted to ask him about his pointed ears! His skin was somewhat pale, but so bright and healthy. His face and form were long and slender yet hard with strong, wiry muscles. Everything about him was so strange and lithe; graceful yet wild! “Sir Thaydrin?”

  “Yes, Aya.”

  “You’re not a man, are you?”

  “I am a fay. The fay is the wisdom of the elves. I am a he-fay. The he-fay is the sower of the seed of his race. I am a greater he-fay. The greater fay is the grandeur of the elf. I am not a man.”

  “Sir Thaydrin is very handsome.”

  The elfin knight smiled and nodded. The woman flinched when he caressed her cheek! Aya feared him, but he made her feel so warm and safe. She leaned forward and nodded, hoping he would again touch her. The elf played with her lustrous black hair before again caressing her cheek. “So warm,” his rich, melodious voice cooed. He peered into the widening pupils of her brown eyes and uttered, “It is a delight to be thought handsome by such a lovely creature.”

  Aya shrank and blushed. Sir Thaydrin chuckled. They finished breakfast.

  Continuing onward: Aya led Sir Thaydrin across the cool, flowing water of the stream and through wide, forested valleys. The woman talked and talked, but the elf never seemed to mind. No matter how frivolous the topic, no matter how often Aya changed the topic, Sir Thaydrin pleasantly listened. “How curious,” he would sometimes remark. “Fascinating,” he would sometimes comment. “Why would you do such a thing, my silly little Aya?”

  “Don’t know,” she tittered.

  The woman and he-fay walked and walked. Aya talked and talked. “Our world must be boring to one such as Sir Thaydrin.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Really?”

  Sir Thaydrin suddenly stopped! He watched and listened. Being an assassin, Aya knew to be still, silent and attentive when a companion became tense. When Thaydrin drew his sword, the woman drew her own. “Sweet Aya, sheathe your sword and run. Flee to the west and they shall not pursue you.” The girl shook her head. “Dear woman, I am their prey, not you. Depart from me now.” The woman again shook her head. The elf looked at her. The same little creature that once trembled before him now stood ready to fight by his side. “Aya, I am honored that you are with me.”

  “Who’s after us?”

  “The Wild Hunters. Come. The Hunters are strongest amongst the trees. We must reach a clearing.” Thaydrin suddenly ducked to the side! An arrow zipped past him and sunk into a tree! He dove to the ground, as did Aya, as two more arrows immediately followed.

  “We’re surrounded!” Aya realized.

  “Yes. They must have been flanking us.”

  “Three of them,” the woman surmised.

  “Yes. Hunters usually hunt alone or as a trio. Hide. I shall meet their bows with my steel.” The knight darted from tree to tree.

  Aya felt danger. She swung around and parried a sword that nearly skewered her! Her attacker loomed over her, staring down at her with green eyes that glowed malevolently from behind camouflage face-paint. The Wild Hunter hacked and jabbed, forcing Aya back. He was too strong and too fast! “Thaydrin!” the woman cried.

  The dark elf swung down, but another sword blocked the chop with a spark and clang. Thaydrin’s leg kicked the enemy. The knight pressed the attack, forcing the Hunter back. Elfin swords swiped, poked and parried with speed and grace of the like the woman had never seen before. Thaydrin jabbed and the dark elf yelped! Yanking his blade from the enemy’s chest, the knight finished him with a gory chop to the neck.

  “Aya!” Thaydrin faced her.

  “I’m all right,” she told him.

  “Be wary. One remains.”

  The woman suggested, “Let’s find him and kill him.”

  The elf nodded his agreement.

  The Queen’s Ranger watched as Sir Thaydrin darted from tree to tree. The dark elf raised his bow and drew back an arrow. Suddenly metal slashed the side of his neck! The Hunter’s arrow sprung aimlessly from his bow. His hamstring was cut and he stumbled! Aya slashed and stabbed him repeatedly.

  Sir Thaydrin ran up to the woman. Her little sword was bloodied and a dead Hunter lay at her feet! The knight asked amazed, “You found a Hunter yet he did not see you?”

  “Aya is an assassin. It is her way to attack unseen.”

  The woman and he-fay continued on until they came to a waterfall. Aya suggested, “Let’s eat here.”

  Sir Thaydrin nodded and the two began their lunch.

  “Aya, my dear, you have amazed me this day. Few there are, even among the elves, who can boast of catching a Wild Hunter unawares.”

  “Thank you,” the woman smiled and nodded. “Sir Thaydrin saved Aya. Thank you.”

  “I would be ashamed if I allowed harm to befall my little Aya.”

  The two ate amid the soothing ambience of stream, forest and waterfall.

  “Sir Thaydrin?”

  “Yes, Aya.”

  “Why are the dark elves the enemy?”

  “Why is anyone an enemy?”

  The woman thought about the elf’s question, then asked, “What?”

  “Tell me, assassin: before this day, were your victims elves or men?”

  “Human.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “They were the enemies of my clan.”

  “Elves kill elves and humans kill humans. The blood of one’s own veins is shed by the hands of one’s own blood. Though races and reasons differ, the very heart of strife is always the same.”

  The woman was surprised by how saddened she was by what the elf had told her. She asked, “What about loyalty?”

  “Loyalty? It is better to act in friendship.” The little human smirked and rolled her eyes. Perhaps she did not understand the spirit of freedom and justice. The elf explained, “When my little
Aya slept in my presence, she was at my mercy yet had nought to fear.” He gently took her hand and kissed it. “To be at another’s mercy yet have nought to fear: that is friendship.”

  After lunch, Aya and Sir Thaydrin pressed on up, over and through the forested hills and valleys of the world of humans.

  The woman asked, “Is Sir Thaydrin glad he brought Aya along?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does Aya surprise Sir Thaydrin?”

  “Yes. Though your mind wanders, your ears and eyes prove keen and your heart resolute.” Aya pouted. “Aya,” Thaydrin caressed her shoulder and smiled down at her.

  “My mind wanders?”

  “Yes. Your thoughts drift like the wind.”

  The woman sulked... until the tall, inhuman warrior squeezed her in a playful embrace! He chuckled, “Even when sour, my little Aya is as sweet as honey.”

  For a long while, neither elf nor woman spoke.

  “Sir Thaydrin?” Aya finally broke the silence. “How old are you?”

  The elf thought for a long moment then responded, “I do not remember.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I do not.”

  “How can you forget how old you are?”

  “Lest I am slain, all days are mine. What does it matter to count them?”

  Aya stared up at the handsome elf. He was neither reckless nor weary. He was calm, even in battle, yet vigorous. He was neither young nor old. He seemed... timeless.

  The woman became tense! Sir Thaydrin became still. Aya looked at him and pointed into the forest. The two drew their swords and hid. Three naked girls with black hair and smooth, hairless, yellowish-brown skin scurried quietly through the woods. Their bodies were small and their limbs, fingers and toes long and delicate. They were elves, dark elves, but they were much smaller than Thaydrin or the Wild Hunters. They were smaller than Aya! One of the naked girls carried a strung bow and wore a quiver of arrows. Each of the other two wielded a two-edged short sword with a handgrip nearly as long as the blade. Were these three soldiers? When the stealthy little dark elves had passed, Thaydrin whispered into Aya’s ear, “They do not seek us.”

  “How does Thaydrin know?”

  “Because they are neither looking upon the ground for tracks, nor peeking about. They are most likely scouts returning to the main body.”

  “Are they children?”

  “No.”

  Aya wondered, “Why are they so small? Are elf women little and elf men big?”

  Thaydrin laughed. Aya pouted, feeling like a fool. The elf explained, “A sprite is a little fay, male or female. A greater fay is a big fay, male or female.”

  Still embarrassed, Aya feared to ask him why the little dark elf girls were naked. She flinched when he caressed her cheek. He smiled and asked, “Did my mirth offend you?”

  “What?”

  “Little Aya, mine was a laugh of delight, not contempt. You need not be offended.” He stroked her hair and gently massaged her shoulder. Did elves touch whenever they felt like touching and say whatever they wanted to say? Aya liked Thaydrin’s friendly impoliteness but it still made her uneasy. Did she like it or not? She could not answer, even to herself.

  That night: Aya and Sir Thaydrin lay together staring up at the clear, starlit sky. “Such beauty,” the elf uttered.

  “Sir Thaydrin?”

  “Aya?”

  “Yes?”

  “Call me ‘Thaydrin’ that my title shall not stand between us.”

  “All right.”

  “Ask what you will, my dear Aya.”

  “Does Thaydrin like the women of his world better than those of Aya’s?”

  The elf grinned. “I have enjoyed the playful vigor of little nymphs and once tasted the warm, wild passion of a woman-fay. I have kissed the mouth of a greater nymph and it stirred my heart beyond the pleasures of all wanton. Alas, of all whom I have beheld and known, there is none so delightful as my little Aya.” Thaydrin reached over and caressed the woman’s soft, warm cheek and stroked her thick, coarse hair. He kissed her forehead... and licked it! “My precious woman, you are the sweetest of all whom I have ever tasted.”

  “Why does Thaydrin touch with his mouth?”

  “Because it delights me to do so.”

  The woman giggled, “We have food if Thaydrin is hungry.”

  The he-fay lay back down and stared up into the sky. “The night of your world is so beautiful, so wondrous. Your land is basked in restful shadow, your sky adorned with the sparkling stars and the radiant moon.”

  Aya rested her head on Thaydrin’s bare, firm chest. She loved to hear him speak. His every utterance was musical poetry. “Thaydrin?”

  “Yes, dear Aya.”

  “What is your world like?”

  “There is neither summer nor winter. There is neither night nor day.”

  “What else?”

  “I have told you everything.”

  “What?”

  “Know this, my woman: We are the Folk of Twilight. Every season is the season of man, but for the elf, there is only spring and autumn. There is only dawn and dusk.”

  “What do you mean? Sometimes it’s so hard to understand Thaydrin.”

  The elf’s long fingers ran through Aya’s hair. “My darling woman, though you hear my words, you do not see what I tell you. Open your eyes and you shall see. Though much is hidden, all is visible.”

  “Aya still doesn’t know what Thaydrin is telling her.”

  “Seek and you shall find. Find and you shall see. See and you shall know. Know and you shall understand.” Aya huffed. “Aya?”

  “What?”

  “Be mindful of your anger.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  “Aya?”

  “What?!”

  “Are you well?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Aya.”

  “What?”

  “Strife is born of a troubled heart. Quiet your mind that you may see rather than feel. You shall then find peace. Be at peace and all shall be well.”