My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 606: An Elf’s Tale, Part 1

Life was different ever since then.

Waking up was different, a different view, a different feeling – an empty feeling, and somehow with every passing day blurring seamless and unknowing into the next, it only seemed to feel even emptier.

In the beginning, they had placed her someplace dark, where sleep became the only sole escape from the constant agony ravaging her frail body.

But the darkness would buckle, it’d creaked, and it would not allow her always for an easy slumber... most of the time she would spend staring mutely out the gaps of her iron cell, and out towards the wooden walls beyond, where narrow rays of cold, winter light would touch her from the crevices.

It was a schedule, a monotony, that would only be periodically interrupted by one of the red figures, sometimes two... and then the dominating, irresistible feeling would stir again, forcing her already inert self even more helpless, as they did as they willed, as they wanted.

They tended to her wounds, to her health, all the while making their obvious displeasure heard. The first time this happened, it was the worst. She remembered screaming, flailing, as her hands were forced still to her sides – they forcefully removed the chunk of the winged creature from her abdomen, satisfaction with a sickening smile on their expressions, amused by it all.

There was almost never a word from their lips that did not leave as a threat, an insult, how they relished at the prospect of ending her life by their own hands, smiling the way they did, laughing... under the impression she could not possibly comprehend them, but she could... and in more darker times, she wished... yet in spite of how easy it would have been to do so, no one came to turn these tempting thoughts to reality.

.....

How long exactly she remained confined, she never really knew – time seemed to have frozen for her ever since that day, only further exacerbated by the constant drifting of her consciousness, succumbing to her wounds, to exhaustion, or even the drowsy effects of winter... whichever of the three would be the first to put a temporary ease to her suffering.

Then, one day, the buckling and creaking swayed her cell for the last time, and she found herself forcefully thrust to another’s whims once more, wincing before the harsh glimmer of a long-absent sun, the scorching absent of winter, her benumbed feet rigidly trudging the pliable grime of fresh soil – and before her, a vast foreboding shadow loomed over as the most extravagant structure she had ever laid eyes upon – with pillars of solid stone holding up the magnificent structure that spanned long beyond what she could see.

A human home.

A bigger prison.

In a disorienting blur of motion and sight, the humans bound her hands in a tight metal chain before forcing her within the residence. She was pushed and shoved forward for what seemed to be for the longest time, and it was only upon entering a vacant room out of a dozen passed, did they finally relent on their brutality – forcing her down onto the cold, hard wooden floor and barking a single order, “Stay!” to which her body complied to without resistance.

There she remained, crawling slowly towards the nearest corner and taking in her newfound surroundings. It truly was a strange place, lined with smaller, denser human creations all over, the noteworthy of which being a four-legged stand where something closely resembling a blanket of fur laid spread out – a bed, she surmised, letting her fingers explore its soft surface as her eyes scoured for more.

The walls were dressed in intricate patterns and lines that did not make much sense to her and on those same walls hung illustrations of various views and vistas, and people too, all fitted within these thick protruding borders that gleamed in gold and silver.

And it was on one of these portraits that that human man from before peered back at her. His eyes distinguished him, scowling at her a deep unsettling red, offsetting the soft, sharp curves of his pale face, with his silver locks parted back behind his shoulder, wearing a wide smile that so accurately matched the expression he had worn on that day.

For five days and nights, he stared at her from across the room, watched apathetically as the growing pangs of hunger would startle her awake, have her curling into a writhing ball of agony, tossing and turning until the sun would rise beckoning another day in total isolation.

Her only distraction was a large gaping hole in one of the walls, like the opening to her burrow, except fitted with some kind of translucent surface that rattled against her bare knuckles, allowing her a view of the outside.

At first, she saw only an opportunity of escape, but shortly after, realized her body, even her mind, was without the will to do so... no matter how much she desired, wanted... she found she could not act upon any of it.... freedom was staring at her... and all she could do was simply stare back at it and refuse.

It was a worse torture, feeling the warmth of sunlight, watching the trees rustle with a passing breeze, but never being able to touch, never being able to feel... not really... and wherever could she be anyway?

She could not recognize the mountains soaring in the horizon, there were no lakes, or forests, here, the terrain was even and flat, and not a single creature could be seen save for the birds, resting themselves upon one of the many stone structures that littered the earth.

Whenever she was, clearly it was a long enough distance covered for winter to have retreated, and the seasons to change – so even if she were to do the impossible and leave, she would still have to traverse unfamiliar lands... and what if she were to get caught again?

It seems, even without the presence of metal bars, she could never have been more trapped than she was right then.

But Lenora was safe... somewhere out there... she was safe.

And in the end, that was all that mattered.

Once the eighth had come and gone without a single morsel of food and water meeting her dry, cracked lips, she had already resigned herself to the cruel fate of slowly succumbing to her hunger, unable even to muster the strength to leave her bed, she allowed her wandering mind to retreat into her fading thoughts, hearing as the world gradually dwindled away from around her, all the sights, the smell, the sounds... enveloped by the finality of a growing darkness.

“Not dying on me, are you? I rather you didn’t, it’d be truly a shame – especially after all I’ve done already.”

She fluttered her eyes, bright shimmers slinking across her vision, and she felt a spasm, a jolt – feeling something flooding into her lips.

“Drink, drink now. Nice and easy. Try not to choke, aah, not too fast – there you go – good, very good.”

It was like gulping the essence of life itself, she could feel a sliver of strength returning back to her, coursing through her body in bolstering ripples. Her eyelids lifted a little more, the bright shimmers rapidly coming into clear focus, and it was as if one of the sketching on the walls had sprung to life, for a familiar shade of deep red was staring down at her from her bed.

It was him, the man, for once absent of his piercing expression, his pale face as soft and gentle as harmless lumps of snow – and yet she still flinched, springing to her feet, finding herself suddenly wedged between concerns hunched down in a readied stance – her metal chains dragging against the floor, and further grinding at her wrists, which were already glistening red raw.

The Man remained sitting, wearing a calm but amused look. “You’re hostility isn’t unfounded. Believe me; my men were given explicit instructions on how you were to be fed on a daily basis in order for you to recuperate. Evidently, it seems I had been talking to myself – you’re all skin and bones. But rest assured, those men have been dealt with accordingly... I’ve seen to it personally.”

She spent long in thought trying to unravel his fast manner of speech, and as she studied the loathsome figure on her bed, the man seemed to have been making some observation of his own.

“And yet, in spite of such perilous conditions – just have a look at yourself. Your scars are close to fading, you’ve regained some of your mobility already. A month, was it? How long since I’ve seen you last? Ah, regardless – even the wound in your stomach – you can barely even tell. Of course, I’m well aware of the extraordinary abilities your kind possesses, but to this extent? My, my instincts affirmed me right – truly, what a marvelous find you are rapidly turning out to be... and they have the gall to call me the foolish one. Oh, those poor holy fools...”

She did not break from her stance, her senses blared at her, every thought, every urge compelled her to lurch forward, rip and tear the man apart limb by limb, to decorate the white walls with some intricate designs of her own, but, quivering, faltering – her body would not allow her.

“You can speak, right? I recalled you speaking before,” The man said, frowning slightly in the silence. “Go on, say something like you did before, do it, show me – speak!”

It was like her mouth was wrenched open by invisible hands, her voice siphoned out by a malevolent force, as she found herself spouting, “Grentima ma’hal, Nes’ma!”

“Oh, Elvish...” a visible disgust hardened his stare slightly. “I suppose you aren’t too well-learned in the proper language, are you? Not to worry, we’ll see to that. Normally, I forbid your kind from using that kind of dictation – it’s not a rule I am lenient on either, but I will excuse this instance just once. Only once.”

Suddenly, the bed gave a small creak, and the man’s hard boots echoed across the floorboard as he made his towards the exit, speaking as he did, “I will send some food to your room. The Divines know you could really do with it. The break of dawn tomorrow – your training will begin. Tilina will assist you, teach you, reform you... break years of mucking around in the filth. You’ll be civilized. Succeed that, and the conversion can begin – and then you’ll finally become what you should have rightfully been all along.”

Her pointed ears twitched, hearing another creak, the doorway parting wide open with the Man traversing through. Then her lips suddenly swung open, her voice bouncing across the walls freely, willingly, as she repeated once more, “What... you want... hu... man?”

Again, it was like the drawing manifested, the way he turned back to her, the way his smile had formed. His red eyes a mixture of disdain and of hate that she was all too familiar with... but as well as this odd glimmer of awe and fascination that she could not all fathom.

“I already got what I wanted,” He replied. “I already have you. A potential unmatched, a weapon of no equal – well, hopefully anyway... if you really can do what I think you can do, to which I hope you certainly can do because if not,” His smile flickered. “Well, this all would simply be a waste of my courtesy. And genuinely, I despise nothing more than having my courtesy go to absolute waste.”

She went back to silently staring at him, unsure of what to make of his words, or of his actions... and once more, he stayed his gaze too, a wonder gradually taking hold of his stare.

“Hmm, it occurred to me I never had your name,” Then firmly like before, he spoke. “Your name, Elf – what is it?”

At once, she felt the answer pulled loose from her lips. “E... Eshwlyn!”

“Eshwlyn... Eshwlyn...” The man muttered a few times, “Eshwlyn the Elf-Knight,” He nodded in ponder, before leaving the room flashing her with that same musing look still lingering in his eyes. “Certainly has a nice ring to it, don’t you think so too?”