Hawthorne

The scribe was old, and had a wise appearance. Instead of standing tall, and elegant, he was hunched over, leaning against a walking stick. "Hello, Lura! What brings you back to the castle?" His voice shook, just as his hand as he reached for her.

"Ah, Merith." She held his hand as he looked her over. "Things got complicated back at the city. How have you been, old friend?" She seemed more friendly toward the elderly elf, than she had been with Elizabeth and Trey. Lura led the elven man to his chair, beside the grand fireplace they were seated at.

"I've been well, dear. Your father had me inscribe some new editions. You'll be sure to take a look during your stay, I hope." Merith's pleading gaze gave Elizabeth a feeling of sadness.

"Of course, Mer. I always love reading your work. But I'm here on business, more or less. My friends here," She waved her arm back, directing the old man's attention to the two sitting across from him. Sitting down, she continued, "They need access to a few volumes. It's very important to them." Her voice carried softly in the fire-lit sitting area.

The old man's gaze was borderline disturbing. "Why, hello there! I am sorry I didn't notice the two of you. What is it that you need?" The aging elf sounded, despite his eerie focus, cheery.

Elizabeth tried to speak, but when Trey realized she was lost for words, he spoke up. "We need information about The Witches of Wildemeadow. I understand that your father wrote about them before you took over as the King's scribe."

Merith remained quiet, seemingly in deep thought. When he finally spoke, it startled Elizabeth—his tone was sharp with excitement. "Ah, yes! I remember reading over his shoulder as a boy, when he was writing about those families.It was a shame, really; they were good folk. They never hurt anybody. Until a councilmen's lady went to them for help. Poor woman... Something must have went wrong. She was green, head to toe!"

Trey stared at the old man. "So, can we use the books, or not?"

"Oh, Sure. Sure you—"

The old man was interrupted by a loud, commanding voice. "No, they may not. Merith, what are you doing?" On the other side of the room, stood a tall, muscular elf. His long, deep blue hair flowed endlessly. Despite his menacing size, he walked gracefully to where they were seated. "You know our ways, Merith. And Lura, why didn't you tell me you were coming to visit? With guests, no less!"

Lura gave them an apologetic glance before turning to the towering elf. "I'm sorry father. They were visiting at the apartment. His men showed up. I didn't know what else to do." She touched Elizabeth's shoulder. "This girl, Elizabeth, she's human. It was too dangerous for her... Too dangerous for all of us." She seemed to emphasize him, whoever he is, and Elizabeth as if there was a connection between them.

Elizabeth shot Trey a questioning look, to which he just shook his head. She turned to face the King, bowing her head slightly.

The king shook his head, unimpressed. "Daughter, I will see you back in your room, go." With that, she wandered off to the spiraling staircase that lead to her bedroom.

His booming voice scared Elizabeth so much that she clung to Trey. He wrapped a comforting arm around her, rubbing her upper arm lightly.

All the while, Merith tried to slip out of the room unnoticed. "Scribe, get back here. All of you have a lot of explaining to do."

Like an echo, Trey took the time to explain every miniscule detail of the past events, again. Once or twice, the king stopped him, asking Elizabeth if the witch was speaking the truth. In turn, she confirmed it by giving her point of view.

Breathing deeply, Elizabeth tried to ignore how intimidating the King was. Not only was he a king, but he was a giant, compared to her small frame. His posture was stiff, and his eyes were filled with what she could only assume was loathing. When he spoke, his voice carried, was dominating, causing everyone around to freeze in place, holding their breath briefly. This man, the King of Elfreda, was scary.

Elizabeth had no idea what she was to say to him, how to address him, because despite his impressive tone, his words were friendly enough. Afraid of saying something inappropriate, she remained silent, unless called upon.

The story that brought the two to the Elven lands, soon ended. Trey sighed, looking down as he tipped his half empty glass of cold chai tea, waiting for the king to speak.

"Well," The king's voice was soft. "We will have to get ahold opf Priestess Astrid. There is a lot of work to be done, if you want access to your family's history." The king smiled, looking friendly— a complete change from only moments prior.

"History..." Elizabeth muttered. Turning her full attention to the King, she warily spoke, "I hope you don't mind me asking you this... But, why do your people hold all of this history?"

Merith intervened. "Well, my dear, the two cities have quite a lot more up their sleeves than one might think. And in order to prevent udder chaos, they've asked we, the only neutral party, if we would be kind enough to keep hold of such records as the witches. And there was that werewolf attack sixty years—"

"Merith!" The King boomed.

"Sorry, your excellency." Merith whispered.

The mighty king acknowledged Elizabeth, advising she and Trey both, to forget what the scribe said about the werewolf. He then went on to explain the process of getting into the records. First, there must be some sort of ceremony. Elizabeth couldn't quite understand what he had meant. She only understood every other word, as if he kept speaking another language. And then, something about preparation.

Elizabeth's mind hazed. Try as she might, she couldn't hear nor discern the words escaping the king's mouth. Dizziness overwhelmed her. Before long, it sounded as if the king was speaking in tongues, a language constricted to consonants. Even her own thoughts were formulated in this foreign language.

She knew that something was terribly wrong, so she acted as though she were paying close attention to what the king was trying to tell her.