I am dying. I know it. I can accept this. Even though I will never see her again. Even though I could have had power. Even though I am only… Why am I dying?
My thoughts that day were… interesting. How many times had I seen dark elves, elves or the worship the Destroyer, cast out of the Elven Home? Now it was my turn. I had always known I would be caught someday. I just had not expected to be nearly killed.
“Can I help you?” a cheerful voice asked. I just groaned. No one came into these gloomy, treeless hills. No one except-
“My name is Iggle Miffkins. I’m an Ipah. Who are you?”
The Ipah. The bane of a wood elf’s existence. It was claimed that the span tall, golden-haired, happy-go-lucky things were a type of elf. I personally did not believe it, and quite a few elves agreed with me.
The wretched Ipah helped me sit up. He was a span tall, with the curly blonde hair and the bright blue eyes of his race. He wore a bright yellow waistcoat, a white shirt, lime green knickers, orange and purple striped socks, and a crimson coat. I, a dark elf, hated his eye-blinding clothes. Any elf, dark or not, would. Too… cheery.
“What’s your name?” Iggle Miffkins asked. “What happened to you?”
“I am… Tulomon Willenello,” I replied, breathing heavily. “I am… a… dark elf.”
“Really?” The Ipah did not seem to care too much. “Are you going on an adventure? Will you take me with you? I’ve never been on an adventure, and I’d love to go with an expert!” The Ipah youngsters are known for their adventuring.
“I am not… going on an… adventure, and even… if I was… I would not… take… you.” I replied slowly. My ribs hurt. Had I broken them?
“Why not?” Iggle Miffkins’ eyes grew wide. His lip trembled. An Ipah defence mechanism. They are able to look like unhappy children in the blink of an eye. In my opinion, they also weave some kind of compulsive Spirit web. There is no other reason why I would have let Iggle Miffkins come with me.
That night, Iggle Miffkins told me his story. It took him several hours. The short version is that he had grown up on the Maelthra Plains in a happy Ipah home. Now, at the age of one hundred and fifty, he had been permitted to leave, and go adventuring. He was hoping to go over the mountains. As I had nowhere to go, I agreed to go with him
We travelled for well over a week before reaching the Snake’s Run Mountains. I dislike travelling. I had never left the Elven Home before. I did not know much. I had always slept in before. Now the sun woke me up at dawn. Instead of marzipan and pastries, I ate berries, and whatever else I could find. I shudder at the though of being exiled in the winter.
As much as I hate to admit it, without Iggle Miffkins, I would have starved.
And on top of this were thoughts. Thoughts of Iliva, the Elven Maiden. Thoughts of her chestnut hair, her glowing green eyes, her happy laugh.
Thoughts of the look on her face when she found out what I was.
We made good time crossing the mountains. Or at least, we did until we reached the summit.
We crossed the summit around noon. We stopped for lunch, then started down the slopes. It was early summer, so, although it was cold, there was no snow. Around mid-afternoon, clouds had joined us, and it was drizzling by supper. Supper was cold, hard bread from Iggle Miffkins’ pouch, and water.
Supper came complete with Ipah stories, told by the annoyingly cheerful Ipah.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I saw a bear?”
“Yes.”
“What about the time my uncle went on a journey to-”
“Yes.”
“What about-”
“YES! Now be quiet!”
Our meal managed to remain silent for two minutes.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you look sad?”
“I don’t look sad!”
I was thinking of Iliva, and her laughing smile, which I would never see again.
That night, I awoke to a hand over my mouth. Struggling to sit up, I had enough time to see a goblin face before I lost consciousness.
I also had enough time to hear a certain Ipah giggle.
When I next awoke, I was in a prison cell. Cursing softly in Elven, I rolled over- to see a skeleton. Shakily, I got up.
“You’re awake! Good. I need your help. Can you lift me up to this lock? Don’t tell my family, but I know how to pick locks!” That was surprising. Most Ipah would not dare learn something that could be associated with crime. I picked Iggle Miffkins up.
Iggle Miffkins spent several minutes trying to get the lock open. Finally, I put him down, brought a spell to mind, and touched the lock with my index finger. I heard a crack, and the lock turned to rust and disintegrated.
Moving stealthily, we crept through the labyrinth of caves. Unfortunately, goblin security is well kept, and getting out the door proved a challenge.
Ipah are not known for their patience, and Iggle Miffkins is no exception. Bored quickly, he walked up to goblin guards, and introduced himself. The two guards were very surprised. I used their shock to my advantage, creeping up behind them, and stabbing one with a knife I pulled from his belt.
Blood. Dark blood. Black blood. Goblin’s blood. I had killed him.
I had murdered him.
Iggle Miffkins dragged me outside. The other guard did not stop us; he was too busy trying to save his dying comrade. Once outside, the Ipah sat me down on a rock.
“Why did you kill him?” he asked indignantly. “He didn’t do anything to us!”
I had no answer. I, a dark elf, an elf sworn to follow the Destroyer, could not condone killing a goblin.
There was no time to think about it, though. We had to leave. Dazed and confused, I hurried down the mountain, Iggle Miffkins trailing behind me.
“My darling,” the brown-haired elf whispered in my ear.
“Iliva,” I whispered back. “I have missed you.”
“And I you.” She kissed me. “Why did you leave me?”
“I never meant to. I did not want to. They made me.”
“Don’t you love me?”
“I-”
“You don’t love me, do you?” She got up. “You never have! You never will! You want me to die of despair!” As I watched, she changed into a goblin. “You’ll kill again!” The goblin had a knife in its hand. It held it out to me-
I sat up, dripping sweat. A dream. No, not a dream: a nightmare.
Beside me, Iggle Miffkins hummed. At first, I had been startled to learn Ipah hum in their sleep. Nevertheless, I had long since gotten used to it.
Lying back down, I drifted into sleep, thinking of Iliva’s accusing green eyes, so full of anguish.
I would never forgive myself.
We travelled for many days, crossing lush, green farmland. Once, we were attacked by bandits. We escaped without killing anyone.
When awake, I thought of Iliva. When I slept, I dreamed of Iliva. I also dreamt of the Dark Lord, Canih.
In my dreams, he was displeased with me, for I only though of love, and refused to kill. Canih threatened to leave me. In my dreams, I begged him not to. I wanted the power the Dark Lord said I could have, if I was faithful to him.
If I killed for him.
Several weeks after our arrival in this place, we came to a fork in the road. A sign told us that one way led to more farms, and then on to forests, while the other led to cities. I am an elf, and so wanted to go to the forests, but the adventure-seeking Ipah wanted to visit the cities. We agreed to flip a coin. Heads, we went to forests, leaves, we sent to cities. (I admit, I did not understand why leaves stood for cities.)
It was leaves. We were going to see the cities.
As we travelled, Iggle Miffkins started singing.
“Tra la la la la la la la la laaaa!
Aaaan adventure! Aaaan adventure!
Tra la la la la la la la la laaaa!
Aaaan adventure! Aaaan adventure!
What do we do? We go on an adveeeeenture!
Exciiiiiiiiting!
What do we do? We go on an adveeeeenture!
Exciiiiiiiiting!”
He sang off-key, my biggest pet peeve. As punishment, I hit him on the head.
“Stop that!”
“But Tulomon!”
“I said stop!”
Iggle Miffkins’ eyes grew large. His lip trembled. He looked so downcast… “Fine,” I muttered. “But sing quietly!”
True to form, Iggle Miffkins sang at the top of his lungs.
A week (and thousands of renditions of “Tra la la”) later, we came to a river. There was not bridge. There was only a boat.
The boat was on the other side of the river. And the river was cold!
I had a short length of rope with me, so I made a lasso, and threw it, hoping the loop would catch on something in the boat.
The rope was at least a span too short.
A low hanging tree branch leaned over the water. I ordered Iggle Miffkins to say put, and climbed along it. Tossing the end of the rope, I managed to get the end caught on something.
“Good job!”
I turned around to see a grinning Ipah. “Didn’t I tell you to stay on the ground?” He shrugged. “Can I pull the boat over here?” Without waiting for an answer, he tried to climb past me. In doing so, he knocked me off the branch.
The water was icy! Drawn from mountain streams, it was so cold it burned. I was numb within a minute. Gasping, I heard a splash beside me; Iggle Miffkins had followed me.
There was no time to think about that. I barely knew how to swim; I had last swum as a young child, when I was fifty or so. Now, just past two hundred, I could barely remember how to stay afloat. The icy cold did not help.
Finally, I heaved myself out of the water. I lay gasping on the bank. My head hurt. It was the only part of me that was not numb, and by Canih, it hurt!
“What are you doing over there?” I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice: Iggle Miffkins.
As luck would have it, he was standing next to the boat, while I was on the opposite bank.
I convinced Iggle Miffkins to join me on my side of the river. Once he was there, I informed him that I had endured enough adventures, and that I was leaving. There was a village of dark elves in a forest near the Maelthra Plains, and I intended to go to it. Iggle Miffkins told me he would like to come with me. I ignored him.
We travelled for several days. There was another incident involving bandits. A bakery in a village we passed through also provided stress. There was another incident involving a rabbit, a tree, and a sparrow, that I would rather forget.
And then there was the evil mage.
It was late. We were in a field. There was a thunderstorm. We were wet, cold, hungry, and tired. A flash of lightning revealed what appeared to be a deserted castle.
Needless to say, we went in. And then… well, let us just say we found a wizard, who was trying to learn dark magic. Next thing we knew, we were immobilized in the middle of some magical symbol written on the ground in chalk, with a wizard trying to rip out our hearts. I quickly lost consciousness, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up to Iggle Miffkins’ giggles. Iggle Miffkins had somehow killed the wizard. I did not even bother asking how, partly because I did not want to know, and partly because seeing the dead man made me feel nauseous.
Through all these adventures and more, I stayed with Iggle Miffkins. I do not know why. He annoyed me. His cheerfulness, his cuteness, his habit of getting us into trouble… Sometimes, I thought he was a demon.
Finally, we arrived at the foot of the mountains. It had been four months since I was exiled. A short time. I was strongly considering sneaking into the Elven Home to see Iliva…
“Look! I’ll bet that goat will lead us on another adventure!” Iggle Miffkins chased after the goat- away from the mountain.
“Come back here, you rascal!” I yelled. Iggle Miffkins ignored me.
Sighing, I chased after the Ipah. Iliva would have to wait a bit longer.