The queen stood and walked over to Nathaniel. She was so graceful it seemed as if she floated over the floor. Looking deep into his eyes Nathaniel felt a strange warmth, one he had not felt since he was a boy. "You believe him to be untrue Rhaelon?" The queen asked her husband.
"I am not convinced. I do not understand how he came into possession of that foul weapon." The king's voice had softened slightly but his glare was still poisonous. Nathaniel then began his tale from the beginning, on the day his patrol had left Ollorath, through all the events of the fall of the city, settling in Nimwe, and his current quest. King Rhaelon listened intently to the story, though his expression did not change.
Once he had given the king and queen the full details, they remained silent, as if absorbing the story. "If what you say is true," Rhaelon began finally, "This is troubling news to hear Ollorath has fallen into the hands of dark elves. Though I am still struggling to believe you are not some dark elf infiltrator."
"Father!" a voice boomed from the back of the hall. All heads turned to see who it was, though Nathaniel had to wait for the owner of the voice to walk into his view. Boots stomped towards him with a confident gait. A tall elf, very ressemblent of the king, approached. He was wearing a similar armour to the captain Creolin, though the mantiling on his armour was gold. He also wore a silver circlet crown, far more subtle than the king and queen's. "There is an easier way to tell if he speaks the truth," the prince announced, slightly disapproving of his father's temper. "Bring forth a crucible!" He commended.
From somewhere behind Nathaniel, an elf came forward carrying a large copper bowl between his hands. It was set down on the floor in front of him and then the prince approached, drawing a knife from beneath his cape. The prince then cut the rope from Nathaniel's hands, allowing his arms their natural freedom. He had been tied up for so long that his arms were stiff and seized. His shoulder muscles groaned with an acute pain for a brief moment, until he had massaged it away. "I need a drop of blood," the prince asked courteously, handing Nathaniel the knife. This was very trusting and whilst the thought of grabbing him and using the knife to hold him hostage crossed his mind, he knew the success of his mission counted on good relations with the elves. Nathaniel lightly cut across his palm and waited for the blood to rise. As the red line grew dark across his hand, he clenched his fist and squeezed it over the bowl. The drip formed and then splashed into the copper crucible with a faint tick sound. The prince then handed him a bandage to bind the wound and proceeded to cut his own hand.
The prince's drop of blood fell down into the crucible and silence fell across the hall. The prince began to whisper words, though Nathaniel could not make out what he said. After a few seconds there was a hissing sound and white smoke began to billow from the bowl. The king looked visibly stunned, though the prince and the queen both wore a slight smugness on their faces. "Proof father, that this is Rhelia's son, your grandson." Rhaelon said nothing for a moment, still stunned by the revelation. "Release the prisoners," he said eventually, though with a little reluctance. Nathaniel looked to Grolt with surprise and Mutt simply looked happy not to have a spear poking him in the back. "You say you are here to speak to me personally. Well you are here now, so speak," Rhaelon added, dismissively. Nathaniel took a deep breath and carefully considered his words before he spoke. "I was sent by my friend, the wizard Torstein." He began, "To ask for your assistance. The dark elves have conquered the lands north of the river Myga. Torstein says they are damming the river to cross, though he does not know what their purpose is. We need your help to push them back, out of Sethryn, out of Ollorath, back beyond the Garok mountains. I plead with you, for the sake of my people."
Rhaelon stood silent, his eyes closed as he listened to Nathaniel's plea. Everyone in the hall was silent, waiting on the king to speak. "This truly is a grave matter," he said, breaking the silence like a hammer on glass. "The elves of Ormurien paid dearly to help man once before. I must carefully consider before I give you my answer. You are welcome in my court until then, Prince Auron will look after you." He said, glowering at his son. Auron smiled at Nathaniel reassuringly. Nathaniel, Grolt and Mutt had their weapons and possessions returned to them. All but Nathaniel's pendant. "Father, you are forgetting something," Auron called as the elven court dispersed. All eyes turned back onto the prince. "By our laws, your own laws, the pendant belongs to Nathaniel, by rite of inheritance," he said with a sly grin on his face. King Rhaelon scowelled then threw the pendant toward Nathaniel. Quickly he snatched it from the air, replacing it around his neck, feeling instantly relieved to have the metal on his skin once more. Auron then led the three companions away, out of a side door to the hall.
They left the hall and stepped out onto a terrace, which overlooked much of the city. The white city was bathed in sunlight, shining like a pearl set into the landscape. Auron led them across the terrace, along the side of the hall and down a colonnade. This turned out to be a bridge over an orchard, many metres below. The huge trees had bright green leaves and beautiful blooms. The treetops were almost in reach of the colonnade bridge and Nathaniel could see ripe, luscious fruit hanging from the branches. Everything in the city appeared to be rich and full of life, at one with nature. The bridge then entered a huge palace of high towers, arches and round domes, adorned with silver and gold. The inside was almost as splendorous as the outside, with long, airy corridors and cloisters with gardens set in the centre.
Auron continued to lead them deep into the palace, emerging into one of the circular halls with the dome ceiling. "I was pleased to hear news of Torstein. I was still a child the last time he visited us." Auron explained.
"How old are you?" Nathaniel asked instinctively.
"A thousand, perhaps two. Age does seem to mean less to us immortals, especially after the first few hundred years." They walked across the hall and Nathaniel stopped in awe of the giant paintings of elven kings and queens on the wall. "Impressive aren't they," Auron stated, "our forebears." Auron then proceeded to explain their lineage, starting with the leftmost painting. "Yuros and Morwen, the first king and queen of Mellamurien. They founded the first ever elven kingdom in Ilandri. The mountains on our northern shore are named for him." They walked along the circumference of the room to the next couple on the wall. "Medulin and Vinera. They inherited the throne upon the death of his father Yuros, in the first war with the dark elves."
Auron explained that as immortal beings, the reign of kings was only passed on if one was killed in battle or freely submitted their spirit to pass on the celestial realm. "Which brings us to my grandparents, Haelar and Luriel. Queen Luriel was murdered by dark elves and in his grief, King Haelar's spirit left its vessel to join her in the celestial realm." For mortal beings, upon death, the spirit remained in the body and rejoined the earth, to be born again. Only immortal being's, whose spirit was potent enough, could escape the earth to the celestial realm, where they could roam eternally, free of physical bonds. "And finally, my mother and father - Rhaelon and Aurora." Nathaniel looked closely at the painting, completed on the day of their ascension to the throne, mostly looking at King Rhaelon. "He seems so happy," he observed.
"He used to be back then. After my sister left, the years turned him bitter."
"I suppose I should call you uncle," Nathaniel said to lighten the mood.
"Nonsense. You must call me Auron," he demanded with a smile.
They left the hall and found a corridor which seemed to spiral round the outside of the large circular building, with a gentle slope. Auron then led them out onto a large balcony with another colonnade. "These rooms are yours, please make yourselves at home," he explained. "I will return soon and show you around our great city. Though I am sure you wish to rest from your journey first." Auron bowed and departed, leaving the three of them in peace. They had been granted a suite of rooms which all faced onto the balcony. Inside was a grand bed, with chiffon and silk fabric draped over them, The floor was covered in a large patterned rug and each room had a table full of fruit platters and jugs of wine. Nathaniel dropped his belongings by the door and lay back on the bed. He sunk into the soft mattress, which supported and cushioned him, softly hugging his weary body.
Just like that he was asleep and did not wake for a few hours. When his eyes finally reopened he felt as if all his troubles had been washed away. It was the best night's sleep he could ever remember having. He stood up and, grabbing a fruit platter and goblet of wine, walked out onto the balcony to sit and admire the view across the palace courtyard below. Once he sat down he could hear a snoring coming from one of the other rooms, though he could not be sure if it was Grolt or Mutt. It brought a smile to his face, which he promptly filled with a bite from a juicy peach. The juice burst out as his teeth bit into the tender flesh and ran down his chin. The taste instantly exploded onto his tongue, fresh and so full of flavour. He had never known fruit to taste so good.
A gentle breeze washed over him and lightly ruffled his hair. He closed his eyes and imagined his younger self, stood with his mother as she gently stroked his hair. The image in his mind felt so real and brought him a moment of inner peace. Since his arrival in Mesolina, there had been a lot of information for him to take on board. The strangest revelation was that he had an elven heritage. He had never realised that his mother was an elf princess and he wondered if her departure from Ollorath may be in some way related. Her immortality perhaps meant that he inherited some form of long life too, being half elf. He assumed only half as he had little to no recollection of his father. If so this would explain how he had aged so little since the fall of Ollorath. It did not, however, explain how Eira had not aged either. Though Torstein may have been correct about the medallion keeping them young.
Grolt seemed to have stirred and emerged from his room, looking as well rested as Nathaniel. The snoring persisted though, so it must be coming from Mutt. Grolt grabbed himself a goblet of wine and sat on the chair opposite, picking a few grapes off the bunch on the platter. "How long do you suppose they will keep us waiting?" Grolt asked.
"I do not know. Hopefully not long, this journey has already been longer than I had anticipated." The dwarf nodded, throwing another grape into his mouth. At that moment Auron returned, no longer wearing his armour but instead a well fitting robe, of different shades of blue. "My friends, I hope you are well rested," he asked genuinely. Nathaniel merely smiled and nodded, conveying exactly how well rested he now was. "Good. If you are ready I shall take you around the city, where is your giant friend?"
"He is still sleeping. Best we leave him," replied Nathaniel.
Auron led them from the balcony, back down the long spiral slope and through the maze of palace corridors to a large gatehouse. The exit to the palace faced out high above the rest of the city below. A long sloped road led away from the gate and descended towards the lower part of the city. From the vantage point, Nathaniel could see right across the city and out into the fjord. The road continued to descend to the next level of the city, which was in three levels. The top level was the palace and elven court, the middle level was a booming district of master craftsmen, markets and rich houses. This was also the level where the gates of the city were. All of the elves seemed to be wearing fine robes, similar to Auron's and Nathaniel felt like he stuck out considerably in his brown woollen trousers and white linen shirt. Many of the elves turned to look at the visitors, some even staring curiously.