Kingdom of the Elves
Together with Faolán, Aisling returned to the Grand Palace. It was one of those moments when she was mesmerized by the way her best friend wielded the magic of the ages. He chanted an ancient version of High Elvish, an art lost to time immemorial but known naturally by those chosen by the Chaos and the Ancients to be conduits through which magic was channeled, fueled by thoughts and imagination.
Blue and green iridescent lights flickered all around them, as though carried by the wind spirits. The lights grew even stronger, soon obstructing her vision and blocking her from seeing the forest around them. The princess gasped, marveling at the beauty of magic unfolding before her. The glitters of pixie dust dulled in comparison to the radiance she witnessed — a brilliance she likened to the power of many suns. During the time that the lights twirled and whirled around Faolán and her, she felt nothing. When everything became clear again, they stood right before the Grand Palace — the capital of the Kingdom of Eldalindëa.
The Grand Palace was a spectacle to behold. It occupied a vast expanse of plains to the south of Lake Sìorlaoch — the Eternal Pool — and rested on the eastern bank of River Síofhrann — Elf’s Tears — which flowed from the lake into the Golden Sea. In its prime, the Grand Palace, the beating heart of the Elvish kingdom, stood as an evidence to the ethereal craftsmanship of her people. Immersed in the wonder of its engineering, she gazed upon the gargantuan structure — a marvel wrought from the fusion of quartz and dragon fire. Its opaqueness, a dance with the light, concealed within its walls the allure of secrets hidden from prying eyes.
Approaching the entrance, towering statues of angelic beings, with wings spanning sixty feet each, stood as sentinels guarding the threshold. Their serene countenances, witnesses to eons past, whispered tales of grandeur that lay beyond. Perched on pedestals adorned with ancient Elvish runes, the celestial guardians exuded an otherworldly grace — a blend of ethereal beauty and the power that safeguarded the sanctum.
At the core of the Grand Palace, an ancient elelm tree ascended with pride, its trunk pure white — an embodiment of timeless wisdom. Dark green veins traced secrets upon its bark, tales etched over ages long past. The canopy of the elelm tree was a living shroud of safety and enchantment, stretching generously over the palace. From the heart of this arboreal sanctuary, beams and pillars rose to touch the heavens, signifying the elves’ harmonious dance with the natural world.
The entrance, guarded by blade-wielding sentinels astride white gryphons, was a spectacle of both elegance and might. The armor worn by these guardians bore imprints of leaves, deer antlers, and the crescent moon, all part of the visual symphony of their civilization’s harmony with nature. Their swords, adorned with intricate Elvish runes, were works of art, whispering tales of ancient spells and forging bonds with the spirits of the land.
Princess Aisling, despite having seen it all already, looked around in awe, perpetually enamored by the delicate yet potent magic that coursed through the veins of her home. The Grand Palace, with its translucent walls, guardian statues, ancient elelm, and vigilant sentinels, was a living testament to the enduring beauty and enchantment that defined Eldalindëa’s celestial sanctuary.
The guards bowed upon sighting her, and the captain, identified by the silver crown with a crescent emblem perched upon his long, brown hair, pointed at the gates. The gates slid open with ease, baring the courtyard to the princess and her sorcerer friend. Vines curled along the forms of towering marble pillars, giving the atmosphere the ambiance of the forest. Large tables held various kinds of food, fruits, and beverages. The smell of cured venison and buttered honeypie stood out the most, immediately driving her into a state of hunger.
A servant approached her with alluring grace, lithe and beautiful, adorned with expensive jewelry. “My princess,” The servant greeted with a bow and a smile that revealed a golden tooth and a pierced tongue. “May I?” She reached for the flowers in Aisling’s hands. Aisling had nearly forgotten about them.
Astartled to remembrance, a genteel nod adorned her regal countenance. “Indeed, attend to this matter with utmost care. Please ensure that these dragonroses find their place within a flowerpot adorning my dressing table. Let their presence serve as a wellspring of inspiration, inviting the prospect of a day adorned with beauty,” She graciously instructed.
The servant nodded, took the flowers and waltzed away with practised fancy strides.
“That was overtly refined,” Faolán pointed out. When she raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner that showed her confusion, he continued, “How you spoke to her.”
Aisling giggled. “Well, I have to keep reminding them I am the princess around this here parts, young padawan,” She said with an exotic flourish that sounded very foreign in her ears.
Faolán sniggered. “Just one of your many talents,” He remarked.
“What’s with all the compliments?” She asked, squinting with suspicion. He was being nicer than usual.
“Can I not treat my best friend kindly anymore?” he asked, casting his gaze from her to the couples dancing to a Dyloxiae’s reed pipe. She followed his gaze, but she focused on the piper, which had the upper torso of an elf but the lower half of a deer. She thought its music was enchanting; she found herself wanting to dance, already tapping her foot on the ground.
“You are allowed to, but… Never mind.” She knew he was hiding something, but she couldn’t quite grasp what it was.
“My beautiful girl!” Her mother’s charming voice distracted her from the music and the dance. She turned to her right before running straight into the Queen’s open arms. “You should cut down on your trips. Five moonturns is much too long to be away from your dear mother.”
Aisling cooed happily, like a comforted songbird. She always enjoyed hugging her mother; it made her feel warm. Apart from being warm, her mother was the epitome of beauty, kindness, and nobility. Aisling always felt small whenever she was with her mother, and she knew everyone compared mother and daughter. Regardless, the queen loved her very dearly, and the princess looked up to her greatly.
“I’m sorry, mother,” She apologized. “Faolán held me up with his, ‘it remains one herb’.”
Faolán chortled from behind her, while the queen laughed. “He did it to spend more time with you,” Queen Ailith noted.
She heard the sorcerer clear his throat loudly. She frowned. “We’re always spending time together though,” She pointed out. “Why do we have to go elsewhere to do what we always do anyway?”
She pulled out of the hug to study her mother’s expression. The queen merely smiled.
“Too many eyes,” Queen Ailith responded, as though that answered Aisling’s question.
“My queen,” Faolán interrupted. “The king is about to start entertaining petitions.”
Queen Ailith smirked at Faolán. “I understand,” She said before turning away to move towards the elelm tree at the centre of the court.
What does she understand? Aisling asked herself. Faolán did not say anything that needed to be understood.
She turned to her friend. “Are you two hiding something from me?” She asked.
He simply shook his head. “We should go and stand before your father as well, my princess.”
He took her hand and led her towards the great elelm tree where her father’s seat was placed. Aisling had more questions than answers running through her mind. Lost in her thoughts, she paid no attention to the purpose of the gathering, still holding onto the hope that one day she would have the chance to see the world beyond the green sanctuary of the elves — Eldalindëa.
She absent-mindedly heard when her father welcomed Faolán. A quick exchange passed between them. At some point, she noticed Faolán smiling at her while her father spoke, but she was far too lost in her thoughts to comprehend their conversation. A wave of unease settled in her stomach, turning the typically refreshing air of the courtyard garden stiff. For a moment, she couldn’t distinguish whether she was truly present or somewhere else. A warmth emanated from within, and vivid images of the dragonroses played in her mind.
What does that mean? She asked herself. She knew she had been thinking of flying, not flowers. Why, then, would she suddenly see the dragonroses that she had already sent into her room when they were not with her?
Aisling realized Faolán was still holding onto her hand as she tried to excuse herself from the gathering, where she didn’t feel particularly welcome. The people had convened to discuss the impending Test and its potential implications for the future of their kingdom. The mention of the dearth of Dreamers in recent decades felt like a direct assault on her. Sensing eyes on her, she knew it wasn’t merely due to her inability to dream. Faolán attempted to stop her from leaving the hall, drawing attention as the crowd witnessed her struggle to make her exit.
She glared at the sorcerer, who had every reason to want to be in attendance since he was a folk darling, whereas she remained the bane of the royal house. The Elven King appeared disturbed on her behalf, but he refrained from asking what was wrong, possibly out of concern that he might draw more attention to her. Aisling was grateful for that. When Faolán finally let go, she bowed before swiftly sprinting off to her private chambers.