TGC 14 In which elves come to Hafen

I was still lying, staring at the ceiling, when Flussmann burst through the door of our room – wide-eyed and panicked.

“Elves,” he gasped, “here in Hafen, looking for Goblins.”

Mother was already upright – fully alert. In a moment, she was looming over me. “Come,” she said.

“I-I’ve been told t-to t-take you to Manquer,” Flussmann stammered nervously. He looked so nervous that I wondered - as I lifted myself from my bed of sawdust - whether he’d overheard the raised voices of the night before.

To my relief however, Mother seemed to have no interest in revisiting those heighted emotions. “Lead the way,” she spoke calmly.

Flussmann turned on his heel, stepped through the door, and started to descend the stairs. Mother followed close behind, gripping my hand tightly as she did. Flussmann stopped, crouching at the entrance to the inn, listening intently. Satisfied that he heard nothing, he slowly eased the door open and stepped out into the night. Still gripping my hand, my mother led me out into the night.

Looking up, I was surprised not to see the stars that I’d come to expect to see at night. Instead, over the town strange black clouds had unfurled. Strange, sinister, threatening clouds. They seemed to be constantly moving – unforming and reforming. It was almost as though the clouds themselves were searching for something – or someone. I opened my mouth to speak to my mother but she seemed to sense my thoughts and I felt her hand clamp over my mouth.

On we walked, slow and silent, desperate not to make a sound. As we turned down one of the boardwalks, I was shocked to feel myself flung into the shadows of an unlit doorway by my mother. Biting my tongue to stop myself crying out, I looked around at what had prompted this violence. I saw nothing. Upset at mother’s increasingly volatile behaviour towards me, I wriggled and writhed, desperate to break free of her vice-like grip.

Then I heard it. The faintest rustle coming from right above us. It was barely a noise at all - little louder than a breath, but still I heard it. I could feel the magic of the elf, pulsing down from the thatched roof above us. I felt a strange feeling grow within myself. A strange tickling feeling was building in the pit of my stomach. It built. It grew. It rose within me.

I gasped silently and to my horror, I saw a faint wisp of light disappear into the darkness before my eyes. I shut my mouth and thrust my hands – balled into fists – deeper into my pockets. Looking down, I saw – in terror – that my pockets were now glowing ever so lightly.

Then, suddenly I felt a calmness descend upon me. A small seed of knowledge had been planted deep within me. These were the elves. The noble elves. I could trust the elves. They would see my light and understand it. They would be able to convince my mother. I would be safe. Now, I felt an undeniable urge to take a small step out from the doorway. A small step out from the doorway into the embrace of elven magic. I could see no reason to stay here. They were elves. Surely, they would cause me no harm. I could feel my mother’s grip on my arm loosening. Clearly, she too was thinking that these elves meant us no harm. Just as I was about to step out of the doorway, I heard an almighty bang somewhere in the distance. I felt – rather than heard - the Elf above us turn and move away. As the elf’s magical hold over us waned, my sensibilities returned to me and I became aware of how terrifyingly close I’d come to throwing away all the sacrifices my mother and I had made.

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