Behind the Cottage
Sinking into the worn leather of his wheelchair, Lurian closed his eyes and took a steady, relaxing breath. The air was crisp and fresh, smelling of damp earth, crushed pine, and the sweet, resinous scent of drying cedar planks drifting out of the nearby wood-shed. It was a clean, grounding scent.
One that spoke of life, and but a taste of freedom.
Solemn and adrift, Lurian allowed the steady momentum of Melkie’s push to carry him forward, as he relaxed into the quiet song of the surrounding wood.
Behind them, at a discreet distance, his four guards trailed, ready to rush forward at the first hint of threat. Thankfully, they were wise enough to position themselves out of earshot, allowing him to savor the rare sensation of being almost alone.
“Word is, ya soon be headed for the tower,” Melkie said, his lilt at home amongst the trees.
Lurian frowned; his eyes locked onto a patch of wildflowers in a thicket ahead. “Yeah, I just found out yesterday. How is it that you know?”
Melkie chuckled. “I have my ways,” he said, his tone dripping with a theatrical mystery that usually would have earned a laugh.
“No, really?” Lurian turned slightly, his brows knitting together. “How do you know? As I said, I only just found out, but you—who has little to do with the happenings of the castle—are already aware of what’s going on.”
Melkie huffed. “You got to give people a little more credit—lad. They’re not as dumb as ya seem to think. Given the show ya put on yesterday, and all the ears in that castle, it wasn’t hard for the town gossips to work it out. And ya see, my Nanna be their queen, so of course I know. I get all the best gossip, right from the source,” he joked.
There was a long pause; then, sounding uncharacteristically solemn, he asked, “Are you ready?”
“...Yes. No. Maybe?” He looked down at his callous hands, slowly clenching them into fists. “You know, I thought I had years to get ready for the challenges to come. But no, the lord just up and decided that I was ready and that I was going.” He let out a deep, desolate sigh. He felt ancient, his spirit worn bare by his curse—and the burden of a future he had not asked for.
He could feel the sting of tears, prickling at the corners of his eyes. He sniffed; his gaze snapping to the green of the canopy. “For once, I would like for someone to ask my opinion before I was simply told what was planned for my future. Even if it’s just as a formality, just to give me the illusion of choice... It would be nice, you know?”
“Yeah, lad... I know.”
Melkie’s quiet understanding was almost harder to bear than the Lord’s indifference, as Lurian felt himself near to bursting into tears.
Realizing his facade was fracturing, Lurian forced his focus inward. He chased the tears back, inhaling the earthy scent of the woods until he found the cold, familiar knot of hatred in his chest—the tether of his curse. He reeled in the pain, the resentment, the exhaustion, coiling them tight around the malevolent core seated at his center.
And there, he locked it all away, buried deep beneath layers of synthetic calm.
“...I will manage... Somehow,” he said, his voice flat, his face neutral.
Melkie, sensing the shift, cleared his throat and pivoted with artificial briskness. “Well, don’t think ya getting out of helpin’ me with the choppin’.”
Lurian let out a genuine, brittle laugh at the half-elf’s antics. “I am not sure how much help I will be, given my current condition,” he murmured as Melkie maneuvered the chair between a sturdy stump and a neatly stacked pile of unsplit logs.
Melkie smirked, prying the heavy iron axe from the stump where it had been resting. “Ah, I’m sure ya can manage the simple act of holding the log. I know ya be hurting, lad, but I’m sure you’ll be up to the task. Besides, ya can’t let an old man like me do all the work! Why, whatever will the women say?” He leaned in, whispering with a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye. “An ya know how women love ta gossip, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Read this novel at novelping.com for the best experience.
Lurian grinned, the motion finally reaching his eyes. “Old? You have elf blood, I’m sure—you’ll see a century yet.”
“Oh, no lad.” Melkie swung the axe, the blade biting cleanly into the wood with a satisfying snap. “I be only a quarter elf. I suspect that I was not cursed with the gift of a long life. The only thing that I seem to have inherited from me elven sires—is this charming accent! Oh! And me looks, can’t forget me looks...” He brought the axe down again, splitting the second log. “And of course, there’s my winning personality!” He grinned. “But let’s be honest, that’s all me. Me par was never quite so charming.”
Lurian chuckled, reaching out to steady the next log. The mixed-blood man was a character; his playful jests had always managed to draw a laugh out of him... no matter his mood...
Enjoying the respite of the moment, his mind could not help but catch on the word curse. A word that, given recent revelations, prompted him to ponder Melkie’s words a lot more deeply than he otherwise would have.
“Curse? Is it not a blessing to live a long life?” he asked, curious despite himself.
Melkie paused, raising the axe and resting it on his shoulder. He looked down, his eyes meeting with Lurian’s; a rare seriousness taking hold of his features. “Hear me young ven, it be nothin’ but a curse to live as long as ya elves do. It’s the years; they have a way of wearing at your soul. I think us mere mortals were not meant to live that long.” He huffed. “That’s why all ya elders are all such miserable bastards! They long for the ground, but fear the coming end. A part of me pities them, but you know what?”
“What?”
“Fuck ’em! Live ya life—lad,” Melkie chuckled. “Don’t let those stuck-up pricks make ya just as miserable as they are. You’re a young man, Lurian, and you should act like it. Live, fight, fuck, fall in love—these should be your priorities, not all that other shit that’s going on.” He leaned closer, his lilt losing its playful bounce. “My advice, lad: don’t be in a rush to grow up, else you’ll become one of those miserable sods.”
Finished imparting his wisdom, Melkie returned to his task.
For a time, all that could be heard from the clearing was the ‘thunk’ of the axe as it split the logs into a more manageable size.
Lurian watched the wood chips fly as he soaked in the man’s words. It was simple, crude, and perhaps entirely impossible for one destined for the Tower, but it was the most honest thing anyone had said to him in years. He still felt the weight of his curse, but for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel quite so eager to surrender to the cards he was dealt.
“Speakin’ of fuckin’, why haven’t ya taken that fine elven lass to bed?” Melkie asked abruptly, leaving Lurian bewildered by the sudden bluntness of the question.
It came out of nowhere, like a crack of thunder on a cloudless day. What was he even supposed to say after such a spontaneous shift in topic?
Melkie looked his way, his prior cheer evaporating as he continued, “And don’t tell me ya haven’t noticed the girl’s interest. I refuse to believe ya ta be that foolish.”
A still-struggling Lurian stuttered out: “W-What? What do you mean?”
Melkie split the last log in the pile. “Don’t play the fool, lad. It ain’t a good look. It be obvious to all that lass pines for ya; even you must‘ve noticed. It ain’t the least bit subtle.”
Melkie pointed at Lurian; his eyes filled with reproach. “And don’t tell me ya haven’t thought about it. Ya’re a healthy young man, and she’s a pretty thing, even for an elf. There’s no way the thought of that lass sprawled out on ya bed hasn’t crossed ya mind.”
“Here, hold these,” Melkie said, beginning to stack the split lumber on Lurian’s lap.
Lurian was silent, unable to answer the not-so-simple question. Was he fond of Claire? Of course, she was responsible for the brightest moments of his day. Did he find her attractive? Yes, he wasn’t blind; she was beautiful, far more than most.
And yes, on occasion he had caught himself having some more ‘illicit’ fantasies featuring the pretty elven maid, but that was lust, not love. And if she loved him as much as he suspected, he thought he owed her more than just his lust. She was dear to him, and he did not want to hurt her.
There was also a part of him that was still conflicted with the manner in which she was thrust upon him by his grandfather; as if offered as a plaything, a plaything that had no choice but to love him. It felt arranged, somehow artificial.
He explained as much to Melkie, who patiently listened to his concerns as he finished stacking his lap precariously high with split logs.
“Ya done?” he asked, to which Lurian nodded. “Good, now get your head out of ya ass. You’re over-complicating it, lad. We’re talkin’ lust, not love. You’re what? In ya twenties? And that lass can’t be much older. Why—ya’re nothing more than elven teenagers, boy. And what does a man like you who’s yet to grow fluff on his chin—know of love?” This story is hosted at g.com.
Lurian was very tempted to point out that he was an elf and lacked the ability to grow any ‘fluff on his chin’, but he thought it best to let the man share his wisdom in whatever manner he saw fit.
“Nothing, that’s what,” Melkie continued, whilst putting his axe away. “So, knowing nothing as ya do, who are you ta say ya don’t love her, and why are ya so sure she’s in love with you? Yah sure that’s not just your hubris talking?” He smirked. “Maybe she just wants a quick tumble, and that’s it? Ya ever think of that?”
Moving behind him, Melkie began the short trek back to the cottage. “Ya not yet grown lad. Both of ya are young; this be the time for you ta explore yourselves, to figure out who ya are and who ya want to be. And a big part of that is sex. What ya like, what’cha don’t like, that sort of thing. It doesn’t have to last forever; you're both too young for that nonsense.”
Lurian shifted, the weight of the logs digging deep into his arms. He felt a desperate need to explain the obstacle that truly anchored his fear. He took a breath, the words tasting bitter. "There... there is another issue... One I haven't mentioned..."
“Oh? Speak up, lad,” Melkie prompted, the man likely realizing the real reason for his hesitancy was yet to come, as Lurian could feel him leaning closer.
“My fire burns hotter when my blood is up so....”
“Wha’cha mean, lad?” Melkie asked, sounding confused. “All men’s fire burns hotter when their blood is up. That’s only natural. If ya worried you’ll be a quick shot, I—”
“No, no, gods no—that’s not it, that’s definitely not it,” he rushed to explain, “I am talking about when I do anything strenuous, my insides feel aflame, and it only gets worse the more excited I get. I’m worried the pain will be too much. Making it a less than pleasant experience.”
After a confused moment, Melkie finally caught on. “Oh shit, now that’s a problem that’ll suck all the fun out of it.” Thankfully, Melkie was aware of the agony that plagued Lurian’s youth, instantly understanding the dilemma and sparing him any further embarrassment.
“...Any advice?” asked a pensive Lurian. He felt a rare vulnerability sharing such intimate secrets with another, especially with the half-elf standing behind him. Normally, he could at least read the man’s reaction to gauge his response, but given his feeble state confined to his chair, it simply wasn’t possible.
So he waited, waited for the awkward silence to finally break...
“...Make it about her, lad. If—if the pain is as bad as you’ve let on, it’s likely that you won’t get much out of the physical act of baby-making. Lucky for you, sex is more than just rubbing ya bits together and seeing what happens,” he said, the joke managing to earn a light chuckle from the still embarrassed Lurian.
“Why, I happen ta know from personal experience that half the fun comes from having ya woman completely at ya mercy. There ain’t nothin’ that makes you feel more like a man than watching her come undone beneath ya thrusts,” Melkie said, his whimsical tone giving away where his mind had wandered.
It left Lurian both inspired and uncomfortable with the thought of Melkie and Nanna being intimate. She was the closest thing he had to a mother, and he did not appreciate the imagery.
As the pair approached the cottage, Lurian pondered Melkie’s advice. Perhaps he really was overthinking it. Perhaps he really could give things a try, he thought—pondering as they returned to the couple’s cottage...