Of Elves and Men - Part 1

In the light of the midday sun, you could almost imagine that the rolling hills went on forever. They were bounded solely by the horizon, and only to the south, where they must eventually meet the mountains that loomed menacingly over the landscape, were they obstructed in any noticeable way. The wind blew across the hills, sweeping east to west, blowing from somewhere beyond, bringing with it the smells of spring.

“The winds of Evela bring prosperity to men.” He whispered to no one in particular, although his horse shrugged, as if in acknowledgment.

He could remember his father telling him that, with the family sitting around the hearth late at night. “No matter how bad it gets, the winds will always blow again.” He would say with a smile that never seemed to leave his face. “And the winds of Evela bring prosperity to men.” His father would wink at him after he said that, and he could imagine that everything would be okay.

Caden had heard that so often, that he thought he might actually believe it. But today the wind felt only warm, a foreshadowing of the months of summer ahead of them. He thought he could pick out a faint smell of smoke being carried from somewhere to the east. Probably someone cooking lunch, although he couldn’t see smoke anywhere. It was rare to run into someone this far into the Evela foothills, at least off of the main roads. There just wasn’t much out here to interest anyone.

He turned his attention back to the task at hand. For what seemed like the hundredth time in the last five minutes he scanned the hills west of him, still he saw nothing. They rose and fell almost rhythmically. Less than a mile to his left a tree line stretched east and west out of sight, but nothing moved. He was about ready to nudge his horse forward, when he saw the deer, topping the rise of the hill in front of him.

He grabbed the bow from his saddle, and spurred his horse forward. He raised the bow, knocking an arrow at the same time. Pulling the string to his cheek, he focused on only one thing, and time almost seemed to slow down. He plunged into the valley. Almost there. The land rose and fell smoothly in time with the horse beneath him. Just a little closer. He broke the top of the hill at a full gallop, standing up in his stirrups.

The deer bolted when it saw him coming, but it was too late. It let out a cry that pierced the countryside as his arrow struck it. It shuddered, and fell, lying motionless on the hilltop. He stopped his horse when he saw the arrow hit, and replaced his bow before starting up the hill again.

“I think it’s dead.” Frey was riding up the side of the hill opposite him. He must have been watching the whole thing, from one of the other hills.

“Did you expect any less?”

“Well, I was skeptical.” Riding up next to him, Fray examined the dead animal. “Perhaps I should have more faith in you.”

“Perhaps?”

They dismounted, nearly in unison. “Alright. That was a good shot. A moving target from horseback. Not many can do that.”

Caden shrugged before kneeling down next to his trophy. He carefully removed his arrow and stuck it in the ground. Kneeling next to him, Frey examined the deer. “Well, look at that.”

Caden looked where his companion indicated. He saw it immediately. The deer’s face was normal, except for a patch of dark brown, that ran around the eyes, and down to the nose. He had never seen anything like this.

“What is it?”

Frey looked at him, and stood. “It is marked. Marked by the hand of Tella himself, or so I’ve heard. They are very rare. I have never seen one before. To tell you the truth, I thought they were just legend.” The elf shrugged. “I guess it goes to show, you can never be too sure where truth ends and legend begins.”

He looked back down. “Among my people these are signs of good luck. They are said to bring fair weather and fair harvest,” He paused for a moment, “and fair women.” He finished with a smile.

“And I killed it.” He looked over his shoulder. “Guess I’m bad luck. Better stay away from me.” He cut open the deer, and began working. “If you want any chance of fair women, that is.”

“Trust me, I would like nothing better than a long break from you. However, that’s where the legend gets interesting.” Frey pulled the lute off of his saddle, and began to play, as he was wont to do when talking. Not really playing a song, just plucking idly at the strings. “It is said that no man can kill one, unless he has been destined to do so. It is a sign of a new beginning for this person. When this happens, it is a signal of a new path opening in his life.”

Caden thought for a moment. “Is it a good path, or a bad path?”

“That, my boy,” he said “The legend is not too specific on.”

The wind blew across the hilltop, joined by the lonely sound of a lute.