DRAFT Mirys: The Green Prince I

Chapter One: Two-headed Snake

The thick yellowed pages of an old, time-curled tome, swaddled in the warm orange of flickering candlelight in the space of an old study. To some, this is an image of comfort, familiar smells, and a gentle reminder of all those words we lose ourselves in as the time slips by. For others, however, it brings only irritation, because where books lead, studying follows...

"There are many types of Folk in this world, but for as many Folk there are, there have been many times more Fae. They came in any shape, size, color, and form. They could look like a tiger or like a human, but no matter what there was always–" and with a thump and a sigh, the heavy shell of the book was snapped shut. The hands holding it irreverently let the old tome fall onto the well-polished desk, the owner of the hands folding them and leaning back in the equally cared-for chair. "I don't see why I need to read this, Gjirdir, the Faen are all but dead," the owner of the hands sighed rather peevishly.

Her teacher stood before her in robes nearly as dusty as the book on her desk, his old mottled hands stroking through the thick grey hair that fell to unkempt waves at his shoulders. He snuffed his big crooked nose and his lips clicked when he opened them, wrinkled and sunken. "Not all of them, my Lady," he corrected, scratching a blunt nail beneath his robe collar to loosen it from his sagging neck. A proud smile pressed into his loose, ruddy cheeks, making his round face only rounder, and his smile had a way of making his eyes squint so that the crow's feet there became so dramatic they nearly swallowed his temples. "The Dir still live. They keep away from us, certainly, but they do build and hunt and so on," Gjirdir swept up the large tome in his arms like it weighed not but a small bag of sand. He paused to draw his spindly fingers across the intricate leather and onyx cover for only a moment, head lifting when his pupil spoke once again.

"Elves, yes. But what has that got to do with me? I see no point in researching it. They leave us to ourselves,"

"And when they don't? What will you do then?"

"What?"

"You won't know a thing, and trying to defeat an enemy you know nothing of is a difficult task indeed, my lady." Gjirdir's smile pressed his cheeks up again, and faintly the girl wondered how long it would take for the old man's wrinkles to swallow his face. Pressed by boredom, the lady leaned forwards against the desk, laying her sharp chin on her pleated hands. "Alright, Gjirdir, I'll bite. Why would Elves attack us? Why should we fear them?"

An intensely conspiratorial look crossed over the old man's face, and he all but cast the tome onto a nearby chair to lean his hands on her desk, lowering his face towards hers. "Because... they are Magick. And that is what Magickal things do, my Lady. They destroy things," he whispers, eyes intense. "Elves think themselves above us, and rightly so. They have a power none of us could ever hope or dare to wield– an evil power. You remember all those stories you were told as a child, Lady? They are not based only on some old writer's imagination. They are based in truth!" the man straightened, creaking like an old tree with gnarled limbs. He touched the tips of his fingers together, tapping them anxiously. At this, the girl only smiled and absently started to toy with the curled strands of dark hair on her head.

"Oh? Then why have they not attacked us yet, if they are so powerful and we are beneath their boots?"

Gjirdir either did not catch the teasing look in her rich brown eyes or did not wish to indulge it, for his expression remained grave. "Because they do not think us worth their time, Lady. All it would take is one minor grievance and you will see," he shook his finger at her, picking the tome up again. "You will see them at the gates of this kingdom, destroying all without mercy. Unstoppable!" he floundered at the end, throwing his spare hand into the air with a bluster of his lips, shuffling off to return the book lovingly to its dedicated place on his voluminous shelves.