Overhead loomed a man with pointy ears edged like that of a knife, he outstretched a hand and exhaled in heavy relief that spread even to me. I took his hand, gripped in his other was a wooden sword, evidently made for training. I glanced my surroundings, a rolling plain of golden grass that branched and sprouted in a variety of lengths in the distance, evidently not well maintained. I lifted myself with his help, wobbling a bit.
I extended a hand of medium scale to the side of my head, a nasty bump protruded, blood leaked like a broken pipe. My mind was in a daze; I felt my posture loosen every time I tried to adjust myself properly. I eyed the man wearily as he rested me atop a log that lay across the field in an area without grass. Far behind the log was a village of mild frame, one that looked medieval and lacked valuable depth architecturally.
I finally felt well enough to give real thought to my situation. A lanky man with vibrant blue eyes, a look on his face that exuding importance and authority, no matter where he lived, pointy ears, and long flowing blonde hair that drooped down to his upper back.
"Elf?" I questioned audibly, my voice coming out softer and squeakier than expected, not quite that of a child's, more a teenager. The elf's interest piqued as he raised a brow in response, before chuckling and plopping down beside me. Strands of gleaming golden hair passed over his face in the breeze, shifting and twirling uncontrollably as he wiped the misplaced strands from his face and pushed them off to the side.
"I didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He questioned hopefully, clearly a bit offput by the confusion of his species or race or. . . Whatever.
I pondered on the problem at hand, this was very clearly a different world, one set in a fantastical period. I suppose I really wondered, how'd this occur? I was fine for my entire life, then I died, just like that. My face sunk into a saddened expression, anguish pressing into my heart with the reminder of my fiancé.
"Not at all, I just. . ." I rubbed the bulbous bump on my head. "Maybe you did." I smiled tightly, restraining myself from getting too carried away. My ticket to actually discovering anything was through blending in, unseen by the common eye, if possible, in a totally different world.
"Come Aphen, you should see the village healer about that." He grabbed my arm and lifted me upwards, helping me stand. I accepted this somewhat graciously, considering my predicament. I was rather skeptical of this village healer business, wondering whether if they were an herbal healer. I also found it strange how the elf clearly spoke English, maybe it was a transferal of knowledge to a language, though I doubted it.
"Is this healer good at their job?" I asked with a clear tone of exasperation and lack of expectation. The elf viewed me even more confusedly, his voice coming out with an elegant grace that seeped into my ears kindly. These were truly mythical, I wondered what else the world had in store.
"Yes, they are good. Best we've had in a hundred years." My jaw tightened and my posture dropped. A hundred years, that probably wasn't even all that much for an elf. . . Why even bother? If I were truly an elf, I would live for much longer than that.
"How long do we live again?"
"Eight hundred or so, us Iremar last longer than most other Emar breeds." I felt distaste emanate from his normally soft voice, a sort of superiority over these supposed Emar taking place.
"Emar means. . . Elf?" I shifted uncomfortably, grabbing ahold of the robes I donned, tugging at them to adjust their placement. They held multiple symbols, two of such being that of an elven ear, positioned evenly and opposite to the other on my chest. Intricate patterns surrounded them, circles and squares and triangles and all sorts of shapes looping together and intertwining, with secondary symbols of different sorts of items and body parts, such as a heart on the center of my chest.
"Yes, in the common tongue. We are the Iremar, High Elves. The true blood of Irith." The elf was getting further offput, perhaps even unsettled by my behavior, though he remained composed. His clothing was of similar detail, made of fine fabrics. Dirt was spread across the bottom bits, an obvious sign of our prior training. No, not our, I wasn't this child, I wasn't this elf.
"Irith, our country?"
"No, our continent. Aphen, you frighten me with these words." He acknowledged, raising a hand to my shoulder, settling it as he pulled me lightly to face him. "You are alright, tell me that you are alright." He placed his other hand on my opposite shoulder, wooden sword still held, causing the handle to press into my shoulder blades.
"I don't know, maybe we should take a break for a day or two." I leveraged this to my advantage to not get brutally beat by the elf I was slowly assuming was a brother, or father, or cousin.
"Fine by me." He nodded briefly, letting out a small sigh.
"Thank you." We made our way back to the medieval village, following the dirt paved path which spanned quite far, clearly it required some hefty maintenance. I followed the elf, viewing the wooden and stone buildings, all very mild for such a supposedly superior race. I eyed the weeds and grass that sprouted from the ground, and the foliage that wrapped around the houses and roads.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
We made our way to a moderate sized building; it was rectangular in form and had a large wooden door, a handle extended from where a knob would've originally been on earth. The elf pushed it open, allowing us entry. Below was a thatch mat where the elf rubbed the bottom of his boots against. I did the same, following his display of cleanliness.
"Did you forget your sword?" The elf asked, leaving me a bit embarrassed at my empty hand. He shook his head briefly, placing a hand on my back and leading me through the home. "We'll get it tomorrow, nobody's going to steal it anyway." He chuckled.
I looked through a window off to the side, noticing a clear forest in the distance, and a mountain range that bordered the behind of the forest. I hadn't been paying attention much, I had clearly missed it. I wondered what sights this world held, the continent of Irith.
A voice extended from a room towards the back of the home; I listened to the words of the second elf male.
"Aph, Qor, back so soon?" The voice was given a face as the second elf male emerged, one of similar features to the one I assumed to be Qor.
"Yes, brother, and enough of these nicknames, call me Qorel." Qorel added demanded hastily, setting the wooden sword atop a sort of dresser. There was an audible titter from the brother as he approached and ruffled my hair.
"Sure, did you beat your father this time Aphen?" I took the clear sign of my injury and shook my head, the man I now knew as my uncle took it upon himself to poke the swollen bump on my head. "Looks like you didn't." He teased, smacking my shoulder.
"Clearly." I mumbled, leaving the uncle to grin.
"Come now, your mother will be back soon, sit down and prepare for the greatest meal of your dark little life." I stifled a scoff at this uncle's bold behavior, not like I could do anything as a teenager though.
"I'm sure it'll be subpar at best." The uncle's lips curled into a smile.
"Oh? We'll see." He set out a clay bowl with some sort of stew, a finely cut piece of bread, and a platter of vegetables and cheese.
"Doesn't look that good." I commented honestly, leaving him to smile brighter.
"Try it, don't be shy you fat rat." My eyes narrowed as I accepted the challenge, taking a spoonful of the stew, it tasted mediocre, I took the bread, it was good, nothing magnificent though, finally the vegetables and cheese were also mediocre.
"This the best you can do?" I quipped mockingly, leaving his smile to shatter as he slouched and sighed.
"Not like you could do better anyways." He assured, more to himself.
"You're probably right, maybe get a better recipe though." Qorel was off to the side of the table, laughing at the encounter.
"You two will never make it in this world." Qorel commented with a chuckle. I felt somewhat humored by this moment as well, it wasn't the worst that could happen, still the entire situation of transferring to another world truly scared me. What was there for me? Did I have some insane super-ability that would make me better than anyone? I doubted it honestly, what if I really was just some elf living with a weird family? Would it be so bad?
The door to the house swung open, a mild breeze passing through the household and pushing against my skin leaving me to shiver momentarily. There was audible chatter as Qorel stood from his seat and went to greet who I assumed to be the mother of this body.
"Areia," I overheard Qorel say, greeting her, before I heard the uncle call out two other names.
"Iris, come sit with your uncle!" He shouted, a girl of perhaps eleven in human aging approached and gave me a slight glare, before sitting beside the uncle. Soon Areia stepped through with Qorel, and another woman followed. "My beautiful wife, how goes the walking?"
"Better than your cooking." The wife said with a sigh, leaving me to stifle a laugh, by the expression plastered on Qorel's face, he felt the same.
Everyone sat down neatly, bowls and platters set across the table evenly, and in the center of it was a candle which lit the room well. Qorel stood from his seat, as did the others, I followed along.
"Allow us to pray over our meal and lives, to maintain our sanctity." The way he went about this wording felt slightly egotistical, though I allowed the words to follow without budging. "May the lady Iverela guide us through our efforts across Valdera, may our sanctity be upheld, may our greatness prevail, may the true goddess of the Irema, lady Iverela find it in her will to protect this family and aid us in our eventual endeavors. We pray that Aphel may find healing for his wound, and that Iris may further her attempts at trade. For Irevela, we speak with the utmost respect of her stainless cause, for our glory and the glory of Irevela." He dipped his head, raising his hands into the air as he clasped them together, before separating them in an elegant display of proper form. Qorel set his arms to his sides as he sat neatly back into his chair.
"For our glory, and the glory of Irevela." The rest repeated, following his example. I did the same.
"For our glory, and the glory of Irevela." My supposed sister stared at the injury I had been given.
"You got hurt, huh?" She asked, withholding her smile. I glared at her, causing her to raise her eyebrows and shrug. The aunt attempted to direct the discussion in a more meaningful manner, giving me a smile.
"You aren't in any pain, are you?" She asked kindly, Areia looked at me with concern as well.
"No, not nearly as much as before." I gave a thin smile, relieving them somewhat. Everything felt so distant, especially emotions. I didn't know these people, and really, I didn't know if I wanted to. We ate, a silence looming over the room as everyone focused on their meals. There was the occasional chatter and comments, sometimes a compliment or two, though everything seemed restrained, constricted in a sense. It felt like even now they maintained a standard of how they should act and talk to each other.
I suppose it was better than nothing, I woke up in what felt like a few seconds of my transition, I felt no pain, it was more than most could probably ask for, I barely even remembered the seizure.
That's right! The seizure, the man prior to my day had a seizure too, I knew there was something on my mind that confused me. Was he here? If so, how many others? If not, then was it coincidence? Did the seizure pass onto me like a plague in some magical sense? Was this simply a circumstance that happened at the correct time, a mishap that conjoined realities momentarily, or perhaps changed space itself? I don't know, maybe I'll find out.