Blood Memories [Last of Elves book 1] (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Six: Naameh

Naameh

I don't know how I know the elves' history. I just always have. It's such a sad story, so unfair. They were hunted like animals, for something they had no control over. Indeed, it affected them more than us humans. The lack of life in the land affected them deeply.

I always thought that was why they didn't fight.

Instead, they fled. They fled to the Dark Forest, to the one place humans were - and still are - scared of. They fled because they were broken-spirited. They knew the hate that humankind had for them.

It has always been there. And they knew it.

Disappearing saved their race. Saved the children for long enough to eventually be accepted by the farmers on the edge of the Forest. They say that there are no true elves left.

Him, though. He is the closest to the true elves now.

Now. Now we can say that he is the last of the elves. He has the blood of the greatest elves known running through his body. Keeping him alive. Lending him strength, and wisdom that he shouldn't have. I think that is why heâs managed to stay alive. Because of the strength and wisdom of the other elves. He will have learned well from his parents, from his family, and he would have used that to survive.

But I want to know why he left. Surely he'd been living in a place that was safe for him, where he lived his childhood. From what I know of the elves, they are extremely close to their family. I've never heard of one living on their own. So why is he?

Perhaps it was where he learnt his knowledge of the sword. Every time I watch him, I learn something new. He doesn't seem to think about what he's doing; like it's pure instinct. I've never seen anyone move like he did. The blade is an extension of his arm, and he doesn't know. But he needs to be taught. He needs to understand how to control his instinct, how to work with the blade, and not just use it. He has to work with the swordsman, has to get the best out of the time he has.

And there isn't much time left.

I can feel the end. The air grows thick and sharp, heavy with dread anticipation. The sky is troubled, the clouds nervous and unsure. They skip across the heavens, but not happily. They want out.

I don't blame them. I don't want to be here.

Not when the end comes.

But I have to be. It is my place in life, the place I was chosen for.

Sometimes, I wonder why I was chosen. Why I was given the gifts that I have. At other times, when I see the troubled sky, the uneasy people, I know. I have them to protect the people, to help them. I have them, because the goddess is coming.

And no one can, or will, stand in her way.