Viornen waved his hand around gracefully to point out what he was describing. Jahrra eased a little more, eager to learn all she could about these elves.
“But my abilities are nothing compared to Yaraa’s. She can speak to animals.” Viornen gazed at his wife in open admiration.
“You can, really?” Jahrra said excitedly, forgetting all about proper etiquette among new adult acquaintances.
“Now Viornen, I can’t exactly speak to them, but I can touch their minds. Bring me your horse and don’t tell me his name,” Yaraa said calmly, shifting to a more relaxed posture.
Jahrra quickly scurried over to the other side of the road and grabbed Phrym by the reins, leading him grumpily away from the patch of clover he had been devouring.
“Now, this is what I can do.”
Yaraa gently lifted her arm and stretched her hand out flat, placing her palm upon Phrym’s forehead.
Phrym, who was usually twitchy around strangers touching him, acted as if nothing were happening. Then suddenly he became alert and looked Yaraa directly in the eye.
After some time, the elfin woman spoke, “He tells me that you gave him the name Phrym. He also tells me that he’s not a horse, but a semequin, and is glad to have you as a friend.”
Yaraa pulled her hand away from Phrym’s forehead and Jahrra almost cried with happiness. She hugged Phrym’s neck and he nickered lightly as if laughing at Jahrra for ever questioning his fondness.
“You can take him back now. He also told me those are the best clovers he’s ever eaten.”
Yaraa smiled as Jahrra led Phrym back to his snack. Jahrra took her time ambling back to where the two elves stood and gazed longingly at both of them, eager to learn more. Yaraa and Viornen may have thought their own abilities were insubstantial, but she thought they were fantastic.
“You don’t need to be so anxious Jahrra. We’re going to help you grow into someone far greater than you know.” Viornen tried not to sound so serious, and donned a fresh smile as he continued, “But for today, I think we’ll just get to know one another a little better, that way you won’t feel so overwhelmed when the real training begins.”
The elves invited her into their home to have tea and Jahrra gladly accepted. When she stepped through the front door, she was immediately overwhelmed by the size of the place. The room they stood in was rather large and spacious. Two fat couches and a few comfortable looking chairs dominated the living space with a wide stone table set between them. The walls were covered in bookshelves from ceiling to floor, generously stuffed with books of every size and color. On the opposite end of the room was a pair of blue and green stained glass doors that led out into the backyard.
Jahrra gulped and peeked into the kitchen, just off of the main room. Great ropes of faded, dried flowers and vegetables hung in the rafters. A faint scent of cinnamon, vanilla and ginger spiced the warm, soft air pouring from the oven, and the age-polished stone floor that stretched beneath Jahrra’s feet felt smooth and cool even through her leather boots.
Viornen motioned Jahrra to one of the overly stuffed chairs as he took a seat on the couch. Yaraa glided into the kitchen and poured some tea into three cups, setting them on a tray. She offered the cups to Viornen and Jahrra, and then took the tray back into the kitchen, disappearing from sight for a while.
“Now, we’ll definitely start you with the basics, whether or not you’ve had formal training before. Have you?” Viornen stated, lifting his cup of tea from the unusual table.
It looked like a foggy multi-colored crystal that had been cut and polished to just the right size and shape. Jahrra had never seen anything like it, and didn’t hear Viornen’s question at first: she was too busy studying the stone’s intricate beauty.
Viornen smiled as Jahrra continued to be lost in the beauty of the coffee table.
“It comes from our home land, the great valley of Dhonoara in the east.”
“Huh?” Jahrra turned her goggle-eyed gaze to the elf.
“The stone slab that is the top of our table.” He gestured towards the table top, not at all slighted by her bemusement. “It was extremely difficult to get it this far, but Yaraa and I had to have a piece of the walls of Dhonoara to remind us . . .”
The elfin man paused, cleared his throat and set his cup down, clacking rather noisily against the smooth surface of the table. Jahrra gazed at the polished stone with renewed vigor, absolutely flabbergasted at this new bit of information. Dhonoara! That’s miles upon miles away! she thought, remembering that she’d seen the name once on one of Hroombra’s maps of Ethoes.
She hadn’t noticed the dark shadow crossing Viornen’s face, however, but by the time she glanced back up at him, the shadow was gone.
“I thought it’d be a good idea to get to know each other a little better before we start training. How about we start by telling our life stories so far?”
Viornen smiled once again, shaking off his moment of dark reverie. “Yaraa, would you like to do the honors?” he prompted.
“Oh, most certainly,” Yaraa answered cheerfully, sitting down on the great couch next to her husband. Jahrra jumped slightly, surprised that she had rejoined them so quietly.
Jahrra listened intently as Yaraa spun the tale of their past. Both the elves had been born in Dhonoara in a time of trouble and hardship. It was right around the time the Crimson King took power, when their unique abilities could be easily exploited by the Tyrant. Shortly after they married, they’d fled their homeland, seeking refuge in the west. Yaraa explained that it was extremely hard to leave Dhonoara Valley, so they’d brought a piece of the valley with them. She rapped her knuckles against the coffee table and grinned.
After settling in Oescienne, they started a family. They raised their first children, now grown and living in other parts of the west. As the years passed, they longed for more children and so came Srithe, Strohm and Samibi to fill their home and keep them busy.
Yaraa recited several centuries of history as if it had only been a decade, leaving Jahrra to sit and gape. They’ve lived through all of that? Through the creation of the Tanaan Dragons? Jahrra was astounded and desperately wanted to ask a thousand questions, but she knew she’d be treading on fragile ground. Instead, she sat there with her head buzzing, wondering how her own story could compare to such a broad history.
“I hope that wasn’t too long for you Jahrra. I kept it as short as I possibly could.”
Yaraa was smiling warmly once again, and Jahrra grinned reservedly.
“Now for your life story,” Viornen encouraged, picking up his neglected tea once again and looking at Jahrra in anticipation as he took a cautious sip.
“There’s not much to say,” she said, rather modestly with a weak grin.
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Yaraa persuaded as she cuddled her own mug in her delicate hands. “Go on, it’ll help us to understand your true character.”
So Jahrra took a deep breath and dove into her own story, secretly thinking of how to make it more interesting so that it might be worthy of these elves. She told them about how she was found abandoned in Crie and how she was adopted by Lynhi and Abdhe. She described her own little cottage and apple orchard, home until her parents died and Hroombra became her guardian.
Jahrra paused when she got to this part of her story. She hadn’t realized that talking about the death of her parents as a passing bit of information in a tale could have such an effect on her, and she had to take a few short breaths before continuing. She talked about Gieaun and Scede and how she acquired Phrym, but ended her tale explaining her feelings towards school.