Bulb Enola hesitated as she knocked on the wooden door, unsure of what to expect. The faint sound of a voice came from inside, but the language was unfamiliar to her. Se strained her ears, trying to understand, but the words eluded him.
The sound of footsteps approached, each step slow and deliberate, until the door creaked open to reveal a short figure with silver hair and pointed ears; the unmistakable features of an elf. The elf stared at hsr for a moment, her wide, curious eyes reflecting the sunlight. Neither of them spoke.
Enola froze, unsure of how to introduce himself. Her mind raced, but no words came out. Her previous experiences, no matter how challenging, hadn't prepared her for this strange encounter.
The silence stretched awkwardly between them, and Enola felt the weight of the elf's gaze on her.
Finally, the elf spoke first, her voice soft and lilting as she shifted to the human tongue, "Are you a human?" She tilted her head, eyeing her ears. "Your ears: they're different from ours."
Enola nodded, feeling slightly relieved that she was breaking the ice. "Yes... I am."
The elf smiled warmly, a hint of apology in her expression. "I'm sorry. I haven't properly learned human language, so I might sound a little awkward. What brings you here?" Her tone was gentle, devoid of hostility or suspicion. Her pure, bright eyes seemed to carry a genuine curiosity, making Enola wonder if this kind creature was really the same race as those her uncle Tong Qing'an had described with such caution.
Meanwhile, far away, Oliver struggled through a dense forest. His breath came in shallow pants, each step heavier than the last. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. Every muscle in his body ached as if his limbs were being dragged through molten fire, and the relentless sun above only added to his torment. He wiped his brow, feeling both the heat and the exhaustion bearing down on him.
Back at the elf's home, Enola fumbled for words. "I-I came for..." Her voice faltered, and for the first time in her life, he felt a strange discomfort. Even though he had faced many challenges in her past life, this moment, standing before someone younger than herself; left her utterly lost for words. She had no idea how to talk to her.
The elf noticed her struggle and smiled kindly. "It's alright," she said reassuringly, her voice as soothing as a gentle breeze. "Take your time."
Just as Enola was about to gather her thoughts, her stomach growled loudly. The sound cut through the air, startling him. Her face flushed with embarrassment, the heat creeping up her cheeks. The hunger had been gnawing at her for hours, but now, in the presence of this calm and kind elf, it felt like a betrayal. she was mortified.
The elf's eyes sparkled with amusement, but she didn't laugh. Instead, she smiled brightly. "If you're hungry, why don't you come in and share a meal with me?"
Before Enola could respond, she gently took her hand and led him into the house, her small fingers surprisingly strong as she pulled him through the door.
Meanwhile, Oliver leaned heavily against a tree, barely able to hold himself upright. His legs trembled beneath him, and his hands shook as he took a sip from his water flask. His limbs had gone numb, and every step forward felt like walking through quicksand. If holy water could do more than restore his magic, he would have downed every last bottle by now.
Back in the elf's cozy home, Enola sat at a small wooden table, a plate of food in front of him. The delicious aroma filled the air, and despite her earlier embarrassment, her hunger won over. She took a bite, and her eyes widened. It was delicious; so much better than anything he'd had in a long time.
"How does it taste?" the elf asked, her voice filled with excitement.
Enola nodded, still chewing, unable to form words. "It's... it's really good. Thank you."
The elf beamed with pride. "I'm glad you like it." She watched him eat, her expression content, as if sharing a meal with a stranger brought her genuine joy.
As the moments passed, Enola realized that the usual sense of wariness she carried with him in unfamiliar situations was absent. The elf's presence was disarming. Sge glanced around the room, noticing shelves lined with strange bottles and ingredients; supplies for potion-making, no doubt. A large pot simmered over the fire, its contents bubbling and filling the air with a soothing, herbal scent.
In the past, he would have been suspicious, wondering if there was some hidden danger in the food or drink being offered to him. But now, for some reason, he felt completely at ease.
The elf tilted her head and smiled knowingly. "You're not suspicious of me at all, are you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Why do you think that is?"
Enola paused, caught off guard by the question. "I... I don't know," she admitted. "I just... don't feel like I need to be."
The elf chuckled softly. "You're much more trusting than my brothers. One of them is always so serious, and the other is just... well, he's a handful." She leaned forward slightly. "So, why did you come here?"
Enola looked up, the warmth of the elf's smile easing her nerves. This unexpected meeting was turning out far different than dhe could have ever imagined.
"I... I want to put an end to the conflict between humans and elves," Enola said, her voice filled with a quiet resolve that surprised even himself.
The elf across from her blinked, momentarily stunned. She leaned back slightly, studying her face. "Are you serious?" she asked, her voice soft but skeptical. "I may have given you food, but not all elves are as... accommodating." Her eyes darkened as she spoke, a shadow of the deep animosity between their races flickering across her expression.
Enola gripped the bread in her hand tighter, her fingers absentmindedly crumbling it as she nodded. "I know. But still, I feel like I have to try."
For the first time since their conversation began, the awkwardness on Enola's face melted away, replaced by a determined look. Finally, she had found the words that resonated with what had been stirring inside her for so long.
The elf's eyes narrowed slightly, though not in malice; more in curiosity. "So, how do you plan on doing that?" she asked. "What's your plan?"
Enola hesitated. "I... I haven't figured that part out yet," he admitted. "I just know that I want this endless tragedy to stop."
The elf's expression softened, but a trace of disappointment flickered in her eyes. She let out a small sigh, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "You haven't thought it through yet?" She gestured towards her hand. "Before you go on with your idea, let me remind you of something: a piece of bread, no matter how tightly you hold onto it, will still only be bread."
Enola blinked, confused at first, until he looked down at her hand and saw that he had unknowingly crushed the bread into a shapeless pile of crumbs. Her face flushed with embarrassment.
Far away, Oliver trudged forward, his every step labored and his breath shallow. He squinted through bloodshot eyes as a familiar house finally appeared on the horizon. His pulse quickened with desperation, his mind clouded by anger and exhaustion. Slinging his bow from his back, he notched an arrow, his movements fueled by adrenaline and rage. It didn't matter who stood in his way. Today, either he would die, or they would.
Back at the elf's home, Enola stared at the crumbs in her hand, feeling foolish. "I guess I've been too idealistic," she murmured, lowering her head. "I don't have any solutions. I can't think of a way to actually make this happen."
The elf regarded him thoughtfully, her gaze softening once more. "It's alright," she said gently. "This conflict has been brewing for a long time. It's not something you can fix with a single plan. It's normal to feel lost." She smiled faintly, her eyes meeting hers. "But I don't think you're a bad person. That's why I believe you."
Enola looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes. Her words caught her off guard. "You... believe in me?" She asked, as if the concept was completely foreign to her.
"Why?" she teased with a small smile. "Maybe it's because you said my food is delicious?"
Enola opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the door behind her burst open with a loud crash.
Oliver stood in the doorway, sweat pouring down his face, his eyes wild and bloodshot. His voice was hoarse, but full of rage as he shouted, "What are you trying to do to my junior sister?"
His furious gaze darted between Enola and the elf, ready for a fight; until he noticed the scene before him. The table was laid out with simple but hearty food, and both Enola and the elf sat there with crumbs on their hands. The atmosphere was... peaceful.
An awkward silence fell over the room as Oliver slowly lowered his bow. He frowned. "You two... know each other?" he asked, confused.
The elf nodded calmly, completely unfazed by her apprentice brother's dramatic entrance. "She's a decent person," she said casually, looking at Oliver. "But, Brother, why are you on edge today? What happened?"
Oliver scowled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Who knows what Aegnor is thinking... Anyway, do you have any potion for a sprained hand? I hurt mine earlier." He flexed his fingers, wincing slightly.
The elf raised an eyebrow. "Page fifty-four of the book on the shelf," she instructed, not looking away from Enola. "You can make it yourself."
Oliver blinked, incredulous. "You're not worried about me blowing something up?"
"Now that you mention it," the elf said, glancing up thoughtfully. "Maybe you should wait."
"Right," Oliver muttered, sinking into a chair. He shot Enola a sideways glance. "So, what's your story?" he asked, his tone skeptical but less hostile. "I doubt you came here just for a meal."
Enola's face grew serious again. She took a deep breath before speaking. "I want to end the conflict between humans and elves."
Oliver stared at him for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "End the conflict?" he echoed, his voice heavy with disbelief. "Why would you even think that's possible?"
"Because if this war keeps going, more innocent people are going to get caught in the crossfire," Enola replied firmly. Her eyes met Oliver's, unwavering.
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Even though the Black Crows appeared because the elves are pushing humans to the brink, you want to negotiate instead of seeking revenge for the innocent lives lost?"
Enola's response was quiet but resolute. "I have no right to forgive those responsible for the deaths of the innocent," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "But I also have no right to decide the future. That choice belongs to the people who will live in it. Right now, our job is to make sure as many people as possible live to see that future."
Oliver studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Is that your own idea?"
Enola shook her head. "It's what the situation demands."
Oliver sighed, his lips curling into a half-smile. "The situation, huh? Why is it always the situation? Does anyone even have their own ideas anymore?"