Acquaintance

Morohtar was heading back to the safe house and Kraeven the goblin was expecting him to return with the Direweed. Morohtar was careful to keep himself concealed, as dark elves were not readily welcomed as the wood elves or high elven ‘cousins’. He kept to the shadows of the alleys, when he heard the sound of wood breaking, like the snapping of dry twigs when trodden upon, except much louder. Morohtar quickened his pace as he knew that the sound came from the goblin’s place, and when the safe house came to view, he spotted a lone wood-elven girl by the destroyed gate of the safe house.

He tapped her shoulder, and the elf-girl shrieked whilst swinging her staff reflexively in a wide arc. Morohtar caught the staff in one hand and cupped her mouth with the other, silencing her.

“Shh! Silence, girl,” Morohtar said, releasing his hold on the staff, and removing his hand from her mouth. The elven girl took a step back, and wielded her staff across her defensively.

“Don’t you dare do me harm! I may be just a girl, but I am a mage,” the girl protested.

“I do not intend to harm you–” Morohtar said, then took a look at the broken gate. “– though it seemed that you have indeed struck down this aggressive old gate,” he continued.

“I did not destroy it!” the elven-girl squealed. Morohtar cocked an eyebrow with a bemused expression.

“Okay, it broke when I touched it, but I did not hit it,” she said.

“Fine. But what are you doing here anyway? You’re a long way from home,” the dark elf asked.

The elven girl took a look at him. Under his hood, she noticed his dark, almost purplish complexion and the faint, silvery glow of his eyes – much like her own. At that instance she knew that Morohtar was a dark elf; the warmongering cousin of her kind.

“Speak for yourself. You’re a long way off yourself. Who are you?” she inquired.

Morohtar looked around, and after certain that no one who would care less is looking, he removed the hood of his cloak concealing his face. A long lock of silver hair fell free.

“My name is Morohtar Darkbrood, a dark elf of the Darkbrood clan from The Sable Glades,” the dark elf said with a curt bow.

“I am Shierra, from the Levianna Clan, on a—pilgrimage of sorts,” she said.

Morohtar knew of Levianna Grove; the fabled home of the wood-elves, sun-elves, and the Elders of the high-elves. However, Shierra’s slighter darker complexion, and her slightly shorter height even for a wood-elf her age portrayed another lineage. Not of elven blood.

“You are headed for this house, I presume?” he asked

“I’m not quite sure. Do you live here?”

Morohtar weighted carefully the question and the answer for it.

“I..am visiting a friend, who lives here. In fact, why don’t you come inside for awhile, out of this bright afternoon sun?” he beckoned.

The elven girl pondered, and then said “I have a friend who might be looking for me, so, I’m afraid I would have to decline the offer and resume my journey about town. Though, I would like to meet your friend.”

Morohtar nodded and led her to the entrance of the shabby house. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but suddenly, the door opened before he could do so. Behind it, Kraeven stood, grinning at the two.

“I have been watching you two,” the goblin said. His beady eyes darted at the two elves. “I hope you don’t make it a habit of bringing strangers to this place. Though this one time, it’s an exception,” he continued.

“Exception?” Morohtar asked.

The goblin nodded. He averted his eyes to the elven girl.

“Because, this girl is no stranger to me as I know her”

Shierra was astonished. “You do?” she asked.

The goblin nodded, and then chuckled heartily.

“More precisely, I knew your father,”