As the wooden door at the end of the narrow tunnel was being opened, it sounded like someone was scratching a piece of paper with their nails. The sound was so sharp and piercing, as if it were trying to cut through the silence.
The door creaked open slowly, as if someone were opening it from the other side. I peered through the opening and gasped at the scene before me. It was so surreal that I couldn't tell if I was awake or dreaming. The voice of my stomach and the dryness of my lips were the only things that reminded me that I was not strolling in a trance.
The world beyond the door was unlike anything I had ever faced before. The colors were more vibrant than anything I had ever seen before, and the air was thick with the scent of exotic spices. The sounds were more melodious than any music I had ever heard, but there was an underlying sense of fear growing in my heart.
The journey I undertook with the elderly gentleman was tumultuous, and my mind was often filled with images of squalid mud buildings and unkempt individuals. However, the place where the old man belonged was not at all what I had expected.
As I gazed upon the area beyond the door, I was struck by the variety of houses that surrounded me. The triangular roofs of these dwellings were particularly noteworthy, and they stood out as a stunning feature of the neighborhood. Indeed, the entire scene was reminiscent of a picturesque view of a still, seemingly glowing river.
The stone roads were carefully planned and illuminated with torches that were placed close together. As I looked up at the sky, I was struck by the beauty of the moon. It seemed closer to the earth than ever before, or perhaps we were closer to the moon. In all my years, I had never seen the moon so radiant and luminous. It was as if she were wearing the most brilliant white wedding dress, illuminating the world below with her ethereal glow.
The color green was the most prominent among all the colors, and it was highlighted by the countless trees that grew in every corner. Despite being relatively smaller than those on the other side of the wall, these trees were still enormous in comparison to the others at the location where I was living. The lush greenery of this place was a testament to its natural beauty and the thriving ecosystem that existed within it.
Excitement, tension, and a hint of terror had taken root within me, much like the trees and their branches that reached high into the sky like veins. With each sluggish stride I took, these feelings seemed to sprout and grow within my heart, threatening to overwhelm me with their intensity.
"Neldur, it is good that you have arrived; I hope good news accompanied you."
Simultaneously, I caught sight of a young woman approaching us in a flurry of movement, and her agitated voice immediately drew my attention.
She was a young woman with light brown eyes and brown hair, similar to other people I had met up to this point. She appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old, and I could see her eyes through the shade of the gray cloak she was wearing. While she was giving me glances that I wasn't all that familiar with.
"They have taken one, and they are awaiting you at the Oyfebel."
The girl was chattering rapidly, and it was evident that they were discussing a private matter.
The two of them continued their conversation as we approached two horses. Each of them took hold of one horse, and I attempted to saddle the one whose reins the girl was holding.
I briefly attempted to place my foot on the horse's back, but it was evidently not the correct move. After a brief pause, the young woman extended her hand to assist me while releasing a deep sigh. I was determined not to let this humiliation consume me any further, so I grasped her wrist without hesitation.
Her hand was completely dry and had skin that was a striking shade of purple, as if it had been submerged for an extended period. It is possible that she worked near the river that, like a vein in the body, had made its way among the houses. Based on the appearance of her palm, it appears that she was the elderly man's servant.
On a stone walkway that appeared to lead to the village's heart, the horses gently ambled. The sound of their hooves echoed through the air like a soft melody. The moon was shining brightly, and the sky was dark blue with a few white clouds. The horses' manes and tails were flowing in the gentle breeze like waves in the ocean. It was a scene that I knew I had to capture with my camera on the way home.
It was quick to arrive at a sizable building with a triangular roof that matched its neighbors as the cloaked girl handed over both saddles of the horses to a small boy, and we proceeded to the building's front entrance jointly. The house had a roof that was sharp as an eagle's beak and pointed towards the sky like a finger pointing towards heaven. The walls were made of stone that had been weathered by time and the elements, giving them a rugged and ancient look.
The elderly man's face was like a ripe tomato, flushed with anger and frustration, but he did not explain why. Is he still offended because I snapped a photo of him? Why does he drag me along wherever he goes? I was still filled with questions when we entered the building.
The building's interior was a world apart from the bustling alleys. It was a wooden hospice surrounded by gray-cloaked figures, and we walked directly towards them.
"Your trip to the moon was too brief, Neldur," the little birds chirped.
A beardy man with square shoulders, nibbling on what looked like a grilled rabbit in a tray of mushrooms, looked up and spoke in a tone that hinted at secrets he was loath to share.
"They had set a trap for us; the damned were pouring down from everywhere, as if someone from inside had snitched on us.", Neldur sat down on the wooden chair next to the man and began to eat. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of tension in the air.
I joined them at the table, and Neldur's eyes, lined with wrinkles, kept staring at me as the table fell silent, although I had not touched anything yet.
"A creature so rare, its beauty is beyond compare. A sight so fair, its presence so rare. Ever since I fled to Valinor with my brothers and returned halfway, I have not seen such a creature. Neither here nor there."
The cloaked man said with surprise in his tone that I had no idea what he was talking about.
"From which tribe are you, stranger? Your face is new, and your voice is strange. You come from far and wide, and I cannot tell from whence you came."
"I... hahha... " I am from California."
"Her weapon was a shadowy force, and her body was small like a horse." "She nearly blinded me with her might, and I was left in awe of her sight."
As Neldur continued, I began to perspire profusely. "Your new weapon is impressive,"... "But can we trust it?" He paused for a moment before continuing. "Although you don't look like an elf, you should keep in mind that Banshee can end any brat elf's life in a blink of an eye—have you ever engaged in a dual?"
I knew they were trying to pair me up against someone I didn't want to confront. I had to say something, but then he said the word "elf," and I paused. What did he mean by that? Are they…elves?'
My mind was awash with queries as they stared at me expectantly, awaiting my reply.
I stuttered, my voice trembling as I spoke. "I need to splash some water on my face," I said, my words barely audible. "
I stumbled over my words, unsure if they made sense. I left the building, searching for a quiet place to be alone for a few moments.
I got out from under the triangular roof, and my eyes beheld the glimmering river flowing directly beside the hospice. The water sparkled like diamonds as it flowed gently downstream, but the sound of its movement was like a symphony to my ears.
As I knelt by the lake, my face was reflected in the water. My brown hair was short and wild, swaying in the wind. The reflection of my eyes, which were the same shade of blue as the water in front of me, was hidden in the middle of the river. My beige t-shirt had lost all of its color under the mud, and I looked like a lost soul in this desolate place.
As I dipped my hand into the water, it was so cold that it seemed to send shocks through my body, making me shiver uncontrollably. But those shocks were exactly what I needed at the moment. It reminded me of the times when my grandpa and I used to head to a boxing club down our alley during those scorching summer days, and after training, the cold water would seem like wine coming down from heaven as I could feel its cold steps making their way down to my chest while drinking it.
The idea fluttered through my mind like a butterfly, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was best to keep this delightful dream alive until the next day.
I've spent countless hours on this side of the mountain, and these few photographs I've captured should be enough to inspire a new gallery or even a groundbreaking discovery of elves. The mere thought of it ignites my heart with a flame of excitement; however, I must nourish myself before I perish from hunger.
I stepped into the hospice once more, but this time my mind was in a different frame and I had much to discuss. As I looked around the room, my gaze settled on our table, which was so cluttered that there wasn't even space for a glass of water.
The table was overflowing with a cornucopia of delicacies that, even from this distance, made my mouth water. A rainbow of drinks added a splash of color to the table, and there were foods that I had never seen before and for which I had no clue how to even eat them. Were they even edible?
I decided to stop torturing myself with the endless possibilities of foods and instead began to indulge in the feast before me. After all, experience is the mother of understanding.
I sat down on a chair, surveying the table, unsure of where to begin. They had initiated the dialogue themselves, even though they were still waiting for my answer. The banshee was an unknown entity to me; was it human? Perhaps it was a so-called elf.
"So... when will we be fighting this banshee?" I asked, trying to feign confidence that I lacked.
"At sunrise—tomorrow," answered a young man in the same gray cloak as others, sitting beside the previous man who was chattering with Neldur.
"Why don't you do it yourselves?" I said it with a smirk. "You outnumber him—or maybe her—one, two, five, seven—yep, you guys are enough."
"For a while, Banshee had mastered her sorcery and could delve into the souls of the elves. But since you are not apparently an elf, Neldur has seen you fight as skillfully as one. So why not? Needless to say, this will not go without a price, stranger."
Replied the young man, his voice clear and unwavering. He rose from his chair while his eyes were fixed on the door. After patting Neldur on the shoulder with a confident smile, he moved towards the exit with a steady stride.
My eyes were still following him sneakily, as if behind that confident look he was hiding something, something I had no desire to understand. I had to head home before sunrise, and that was all that mattered.
As I reached for the drumstick from Big Trance, my patience left me in a trance. While eating, I forgot social skills and politeness. All I knew was that it wasn't right, but who cares?