22 September

"Kallus?" Lanara's voice echoed along the walls of the forge as she entered. She saw her husband pouring liquid metal into a mold, keeping his hands steady and calm. Damien stood near, holding a few tools as he watched the elf work. "Kallus?" Lanara said again, this time drawing her husband's attention. "I would like to take the children out to the river today. I already packed the picnic and the blanket, we'll be heading there soon."

Now that Lanara was in his space, Kallus paused what he was doing. "That sounds perfect," he said, "you three have fun." He continued his project, and it became clear that he had misunderstood.

Lanara folded her arms, shifted her weight. "I meant all the children," she said, "that included Damien last I looked. It would be nice if you joined us as well. A family picnic?"

Kallus glanced at his mold. "But, Lanara, we're busy right now. I just poured this, I can't let it cool on me."

"You two have been busy all week," she argued. "Kal, the children haven't even had a chance to bond. If not today, then when?"

"Ah, so you do have an ulterior motive." Kallus leaned over his mold, let out a brief sigh. "I suppose I could start this one over at a later time. A picnic sounds lovely, and, it's true we could all use a break."

Lanara was grateful her husband understood the value of it. He had been pushing the boy hard these last several days, but life was not all about work.

After gathering up their children, picnic, and bathing suits, Kallus and Lanara made their way out the door. The five of them were clumped together in the entryway as Tenila waved them off.

"I will start supper by the time you return," the good housekeeper said. "Have a wonderful picnic!"

"Thank you, Tenila." Lanara smiled back at her housekeeper, then reached to open the door. They were all surprised to see a messenger standing there, a young, slender elf with spiky, reddish-brown hair. "Oh, what is it now?" Lanara rolled her eyes.

"I, uh..." the messenger seemed to regret his intrusion, "I'm sorry, lord Kallus, the Tribunal summons you."

Kallus pushed his way to the front. "Is it urgent?" he asked. "I'm going out with my family today, and my priorities lie with them."

"Of course, lord Kallus," the young elf bowed, "I am just the messenger but I do believe it is urgent. The lords did demand haste.”

"Hmm." Kallus stood still as he considered his options.

Lanara hoped he wouldn't leave them to enjoy their picnic on their own, but after a moment, her husband pressed a hand to his eyes saying, "I have ignored them for several days now."

"Surely it can wait," Lanara said. "One more day?"

"I don't think it wise to put it off any longer," Kallus said. "Perhaps we could postpone our picnic?"

"There's no need," Lanara said. "Go on, my love, there will surely be other picnics by the river."

"Alright. You all enjoy without me." Kallus grabbed his thin coat before leaving with the young messenger.

Lanara walked with Níhilan, Lila, and Damien on a rather direct trail to their most favored spot along the river. They had picnicked there many times, and Lanara's blood children knew the way by heart. The two wild, young elves sprang ahead, scampering down the road as though it were a race. Lanara walked more slowly beside Damien, carrying her basket in one hand and bracing the boy's neck with the other in a protective gesture.

She remembered that the boy didn't like being touched when he shied away from her grip. She could sense his unease, his fear.

"I understand you were hurt back in Ëolnir," Lanara began, making the boy even more uncomfortable. “Kallus mentioned the blood magic scars along your arms. Dark elves did that to you?”

"I don't want to talk about it." Damien looked down. "I just want to forget."

"It's not our way to forget our past, Damien. Our past is what makes us who we are, and we honor those who come before us."

"But I'm not one of you," Damien said. "What if the people who came before me are evil and corrupt? What if I hate them?"

His words made Lanara's heart ache, his story was a bit too familiar. "It's true we cannot choose our ancestors," she said, "but there is comfort in knowing that we can always do better with what they’ve left behind."

***

The river that coursed its way through Gumber was widest before the mouth of the eastern waterfall. It was a popular spot for the local elves to fish, bathe, and swim for leisure. The waterfall itself was a glistening attraction. Children and other spirited youths often flooded the spot, jumping the thirty-foot fall into the deep basin below.

Lanara placed their basket down and rolled out a blanket for them to sit. Lila and Níhilan ate their snack first before wading into the river, and Damien watched as the two of them splashed in the shallow riverbed.

"Go on and join them," Lanara encouraged. She leaned back on her arms in a half-sit, enjoying the sunlight that hit her face.

Damien stared down at himself, hating the odd clothes he wore: a pair of shorts that cut off at his mid-thigh, exposing his legs and torso. He had no desire to go over and socialize with his peers, no matter how friendly they now looked. He much preferred to stay on the blanket with Lanara.

"Go on!" Lanara laughed, giving him a light push.

Damien hesitated before accepting his orders and stepping into the riverbed. The water was frigid, but he had endured worse pain in his life. What really hurt were the rocks stabbing into his feet, but once he reached the middle of the riverbed, the rocks on the bottom weren't such a hindrance. And neither was the temperature. It was already a lovely, warm day, and the sun was high in the sky, casting light over the fall. He met Lila and Níhilan where they played, and when they saw him, the joy seemed to fade.

Lila took in Damien's awkward stance and puzzled. "You've never swum before?"

"No, I haven't." Damien covered his chilled chest. He shivered even more when Lila splashed him with water, giggling. Níhilan splashed him too, but it seemed less playful and more like an insult. The only benefit that came from all the splashing was that after a few moments, Damien no longer felt cold.

"So...what do you want to do?" Damien asked his new siblings, looking around.

Níhilan pointed to the waterfall. "Usually we like to jump," he said. "Besides, I want to see you do it."

"But I'm not a swimmer."

"Oh, there's nothing to swimming really," Lila said. "Just keep moving your arms and legs when you get down there. If I go first, I can help you stay afloat."

Damien preferred the idea of swimming with someone there to help him, so he nodded.

"Alright, I'll jump after you."

As Lila moved toward the fall, Níhilan raced in front of her and jumped off first, flipping in midair and splashing into the water below. When his little blond head surfaced, Níhilan yelled up to his sister.

"Did you see me, sis? I kept perfect form!"

"Yes, I'm so proud of you!" She called back, then shared a mocking glance with Damien. Turning her back to the fall, Lila lifted her arms and straightened her body into a dive. Like an arrow she slipped under the water and made a graceful curve before surfacing.

"Now you try, Damien! You won't drown!"

After watching Níhilan and Lila do it, jumping the fall seemed rather fun. Damien leaped forward with his feet first and tried to keep his body as straight as he could, feeling the air whipping past. Then the water crashed around him and his body floated aimlessly under the surface. So dark, so cold. He dared not open his eyes, only sensed his way toward the light. Lila pulled him upward, allowing him to break the surface again, to breathe again.

"Whoo, that was interesting." Damien felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. He liked the recklessness of jumping; perhaps he could get used to that feeling.

He did as Lila had told him, kicking his feet, moving his arms just to stay above the water. It also helped that she held onto him as he got the hang of it, and once she was certain he could maneuver on his own, Lila let go.

"See?" she smiled, "Now you can swim."

Damien couldn't help but match her smile. He watched as Lila and Níhilan swam to the edge and climbed out. After figuring out how to propel himself through the water, Damien followed. A well-beaten pathway led them back up to the top of the fall, back to where their mother sat.

The three of them faced the fall again, and Damien watched Lila perform another flawless dive. The girl's body was so elegant, so perfect. If only she were not a Lor elf.

"Psh," Níhilan scoffed to the side, "don't you go looking at my sister like that, she's too good for you."

Damien averted his gaze, saying nothing. It wasn't that he imagined himself being with the girl, he was merely stunned by her natural beauty. Judging by the proportions of Lila's frame, he figured the girl was almost fully mature— definitely more grown than him.

But did Níhilan understand Damien's distaste for elves? Probably not.

"Go on," Níhilan teased, "do another jump, I'm sure it'll impress her."

"Maybe when it's not so crowded," Damien said, then felt Níhilan playfully pushing him toward the fall. "Stop." Damien shoved the elf back a bit. "Don't touch me, you ass."

"Ass?" Níhilan puzzled. "Is that a human word, or something you just made up?"

"Oh, you need me to translate? Let's see..." Damien crossed his arms and pretended to think on it. "Ah, then don't touch me, naelen."

He saw how the elf took offense right away, how his face became twisted with anger.

"Oh, yeah? Well look at you and those gross arms, you're little more than a freak."

"Urg!" Damien pushed Níhilan back even harder. "Just stay away from me, Naelen. I don't like you."

Damien trudged his way back over to Lanara where she sat, but from the corner of his eye, he saw his rival stalking up behind him. Níhilan's fists were clenched into balls, and Damien couldn't help but revel in his small victory.

"My name...is Níhilan!"

"No," Damien snickered. "I think your name is Naelen, it suits you much better."

Fuming, the elf wrung his hands around Damien's throat and squeezed. Beside them, Lanara reacted and moved to pull them apart.

"Boys!" she yelled. "You are not going to brawl, not on my watch!" She made them both sit on opposite sides of her, posing there as a barrier. Damien had to admit it felt good to get under Naelen's skin. The elf had been pestering him since the moment he arrived. Payback was sweet.

"Mom?" The elf turned to Lanara, "Aren't you going to punish Damien?"

"And why would I punish Damien?" his mother asked.

"He called me 'naelen'." His teeth ground together. "It was a clear insult."

Lanara sighed at her son. "I'm sure plenty of insults have come from your mouth," she said. "Don't play innocent when you are clearly not."

"But he called me naelen!" he argued, pointing an accusing finger at Damien. "I haven't called him any harsh names!"

"You called me a freak." Damien narrowed his eyes. "So I'll call you Naelen. Now we're even."

"Argh!" Naelen pushed to his feet and delivered a punch right into Damien's jaw. Damien felt the bone knocking against tight knuckles, felt the stinging along his cheek.

"That is enough!" Lanara shouted, slapping her son and pulling him away. "Sit down, Níhilan! Stop letting him get to you."

"So you're on his side?" Naelen scowled at his mother.

"No," Lanara shook her head. "As far as I'm concerned, you're both acting like imbeciles." She gave a pointed look at Damien, causing him to sink under her stare. "I advise you to not use that word, Damien, it is quite insulting. As you can see, you've made my son upset."

Damien crossed his arms. "I'm just glad I found a name for him that translates. Something I know in the common tongue."

Lanara's brows folded inward. "That does not justify your disrespect."

"He disrespects me all the time!" Damien flung out his arm. "He's an ass, he's been nothing but rude to me."

Lanara frowned at her son. "Is that true? Have you been treating Damien poorly?" Naelen was too scared to answer, but Lanara took his silence as evidence. "Well..." she glanced between the both of them, "I think I'm beginning to see where it all stemmed from. Your father will hear of this."