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Language:
English
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Published:
2010-08-28
Words:
427
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
10
Hits:
444

Forbidden

Summary:

Rayder hunts humans, as his ancestors have done for centuries. Now, the Elves need the humans alive to save their species. Enter William, a human who knows what it means to be an Elf's slave, but who never gives up on his dream for freedom and safety and survival of his species.

Notes:

Written in 2008. More planned, not yet written. Stands on its own.

Work Text:

The human was lying down on a stinky pallet. The warriors stepped aside to let Rayder through, bowing imperceptibly at his passage. Rayder couldn't help holding his breath, for a moment. Human stench was something he'd never get used to. Even his warriors, after weeks spent on patrolling the borders under the incessant rain of the early first-winter, didn't smell like that.
And yet.
Humans. In their blood ran the magik parts that the Elves Druidans needed to heal the dying females of their race. If only they were easier to hunt. After centuries of war, humans had learnt to hide well, in the caves and grottos of the underwoods, at the bottom of the high mountains. There were few remaining, by now, and those few were suddenly precious. They needed to breed them. The Elf race needed the humans blood. This one, freshly caught in the Eastern traps earlier that week, showed promise.
Rayder looked at him. Skinwhite, dark hair roughly cut close to his scalp, scars on his body which hinted to previous escapes from the traps...it looked promising.
The human's eyes opened slowly, dark blue. Rayder held his breath again, for different reasons. Golden, green, hazel and brown, these were colours he was familiar with. Humans were...surprising, at times. A life spent hunting them, trapping them and killing them like the vermin they were, and Rayder still hadn't lost that first feeling of wonder. How could they live and survive, with no sense of the world like the Elves had, their long life, their wisdom.

The human closed and opened his eyes several times, tried to move and tested the chains holding him down. Then he fixed his eyes on Rayder, looming over him, dust-covered and undeniably Elvish, with his cape and the long blades at his waist, dried blood still staining his clothes.

"You. Your name." Rayder's gift for inferior languages, those lacking the convoluted layering of innuendos and nuances of the Higher Elven spoken by his tribe, always unsettled him, as if it tainted him, to be able to communicate with the inferior species such as humans.

"William," the answer came, not promptly, but soon enough not to provoke a reaction, or punishment. Yes, thought Rayder, you've trapped before, haven't you? Clever human. Elves didn't have much patience with humans. This one knew.

"The village. More humans. You will guide us there."

That was the start. The way the human looked at him, and laughed in a deep, scarred tone, and the tremors running under Rayder's skin at the sound.