Elmandoroth (Book One)
The Found (Prologue)
The leaves tumbled before Boggart as it swiftly moved along the muddy earth. Boggart's master would be pleased with its findings and it was hoping for a reward when the king agreed. The trees stood tall and strong, not letting the wind falter their swaying branches. Soon Boggart would come across the castle, and it could only hope that it would; the sun will be rising soon.
'Fourteen years with false information,' thought Boggart, 'and now we will have the truth! The girl...yes. She will be easy to find, for I have already found her. So much in common... So easy to see!' The castle grew closer as Boggart skid across the ground. Once again the sun would be rising, it already felt warm, and as always, as it had done this past month, it would form into the common boy.
Boggart, being the last of its kind, transforms every time the sun came up, but it's form was of the object it chose from the first sun after the full moon. There was always the acceptation of returning to the shadow form when the moon rises, but it wasn't until the full moon rose was it allowed to choose another form. That's what Boggart had been doing all month. Spying on the master's children of the forsaken land. Every male that had not the powers of the Living boy had suffered the price, and Boggart was one of the main reasons why these boys were sacrificed. It knew that every boy it had captured Boggart would have to take him to its master, and what its master had done was terrible.
Boys that had not been the Living Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, but thought to be, were taken to Boggart's master, where he would inspect them and then kill them if they were not his nephew. The poor infants never had a chance. But finding those boys had been a waist of Boggart's time, and such many lives had been pointlessly taken because of it. During Boggart's month of spying it found, not a baby boy of one, but a girl nearly the age of sixteen that didn't belong.
The castle wall was cracked and falling apart. Soon, without the king's protection, it would crumble. As of now the woods had taken their toll on the castle after fourteen years of abandonment. Ivory snaked along the castle walls, and they were incredibly like silk. Any Human or creature that tried to climb it would fall. Boggart, however, must hurry. It could slide along the wall all the way to the top; where the only window lay. But soon it would be impossible to get inside; the sun was rising slowly still and there was no door to enter. Just the solitary window.
Up Boggart went its light shadow darkening the higher it rose. The window was visible now as a dark hole on the side of the castle wall. It once had a magnificent ledge, but it had crumbled so long ago. The old home missed its hosts; and slowly died out, as did everyone else within. In the dark hole it plummeted and instead of rolling, it continued to snake along the middle of the room and then come to a complete stop. It was ready to transform.
Slowly, the sun rose above the treetops and suddenly filled the room with orange light. A slight tickling sensation filled its form as bones and blood filled through the shadow. It’s color finally completing its change into a fair tan, which had been earned by the many hours in the sun.
After a few, short moments the transformation was complete and HE was ready to meet his master. He did not have to wait long, however, when he had been called.
“Boggart?” a cold, whispering chill beckoned from somewhere in the castle. Boggart did not hesitate to follow his master’s voice and he steadily walked toward the only door in the room and left the old contents of a bedchamber behind him. “Boggart.”
His master’s voice knew of his presence and no longer whispered for his servant. Boggart shut the thick, oak door behind him. They were the only doors made of wood, but as many of times Marsolevonie tried to burn them, or destroy them with all the power he had, the doors did not falter. A map of Elmandoroth was embossed into the doors, delicately naming each of the Seven Kingdoms. The word Elmandoroth lay above it and was encircled by entwined tulips. He had entered the queen’s bedchambers.
“You’re late, Boggart, as I knew you would be.” Said Marsolevonie, Boggart’s master. He still wasn’t visible, but he knew the high king would be in here.
“Late, yes? I was under the impression that I could arrive any time, as long as I had news, of course.” Boggart replied cheekily, but Marsolevonie was not amused.
“Where is the boy?”
“Ah,” Boggart jumped, “I do not come with a boy – This time. Instead, I come with humble news,” Boggart braved a step forward and when nothing was said, he continued his walk in the dark, windowless room. “This past month has been torture, my lord, and the boy I had been watching is a squab, sir. He has been beaten by his own sister without fighting back; this boy is too weak, I thought, and if he were to be the king’s son, surely he wouldn’t let a girl beat him?”
Boggart stopped for a moment, waiting for his master to reply.
“Have you no good news for me, Boggart?” his voice was firm and threatening. Boggart, not the type for being in trouble, hastened his pace and shook his head, not knowing if he was seen or not.
“My news is plentiful and I am very sure that you would like to hear it.”
“Continue, you bumbling fool,” Marsolevonie was getting impatient, and his thrown was just coming into shape.
“I – Yes, sir,” Boggart said in surprise. “It is not your nephew I seek, but your niece!”
Marsolevonie was quiet for a moment before he let out a long, irritated sigh. “Such a disappointment. I had thought wrong when I assumed you’d be better than Shlov, the bumbling seer, but the girl? A grown girl? Only the eldest could have been given their mother’s powers and that was the boy! We need the infant.
“The girl was last, proved no power, and you’ve been watching for a girl?” Marsolevonie snapped and something flew across the room, landing with an echoing crack.
“No! No, my lord! I have found her in a place no magician should be found. The land of Kurval, my lord, I’ve found her in Kurval!” Boggart was losing his train of thought. If he did not concentrate he, being the last of his kind, would no longer exist. Another loud crack echoed the room as Boggart coward before the king.
“Impossible! I will not tolerate these lies!”
Boggart shook as he slowly bent his head before his master. The ground flickered with shadows as an instant fire had surrounded them. If he had been in his shadow form he would have transformed immediately, sunlight was made of fire, and fire turned instantly gave him a human form. “They are not lies, my lord, I swear! I – I have proof,” Boggart’s voice shook as he tried to stay calm. Marsolevonie picked up yet another something that laid on his thrown. AS he went to throw it a small smile made it’s way to the determined kings pale, thin lips.
“Proof? What sort of proof, Boggart?” his raspy voice had returned and there was a grinding sound as he put what ever he had in his hand back. Boggart took the time to stand and look him in the face.
Marsolevonie had black, empty eyes and very little of a mouth left, because of the many elixirs that had past them. The flesh around his mouth was red and flakey and his long, red robes, draped to the floor. Elixirs did much more than bring youth and life, after so many uses it also destroyed you. The once handsome Pesiln King’s shoulder length hair was greasy and in missing patches. Perhaps it was the many years in the dark that had done this to the king, or it was the determination to find and kill his family to become the official high king of the Seven Kingdoms and maybe it was both, but Boggart knew that once the search ended, his king would return to normal.
Boggart had soon found out what his king had been throwing. A thrown of bones and skulls surprised Boggart greatly. Had his master really done that with the remains of the infant children? Surely the bones were too old to be any of the children. No matter how much Boggart tried to think it may belong to someone else, he knew that his master was serious about the hunt; the skulls were his trophies.
A few leaves had been crumbled and scattered amongst the stone floor as Boggart released them. Mumbling a few words the girl had taught him the leaves began to take form and dance as a small gust of wind that Boggart had conjured as well blew the about.
“A simple Druid’s trick?” Marsolevonie asked sounding very annoyed.
Boggart didn’t answer and continued to work. A girl and a young man formed, though their mouths moved, no sound came. The man, of course, was Boggart in Human form just weeks before. The girl, however, had shining, long, black hair and had been quiet tall, but what really stood out were her eyes. They were purple, the color of the queen’s.
“Anvera?” asked the king in barely a whisper that didn’t have the strength enough to echo. The king’s voice was choked, and surprised, but Boggart shook his head with a small smile. This was his good news he had been waiting for. “You say otherwise, Boggart?” Marsolevonie snapped.
“No, not exactly. She, my lord, or your niece, was not as lucky as you. With that idiot of a king as a father, she can only do magic. Other than that, she will grow old and die, just as the rest of them do.” Boggart let out a long, sad sigh. His family had been killed during the Second War of the Seven Kingdoms.
“The Half-Elf lives as a Human? But that means she’s-”
“-Fourteen, my lord, yes. Her brother too, should be just a few years older, but not in infant form.” Boggart finished for the king as he timidly sat back on his thrown. Perhaps it was a trick fire, but the king did not look too happy.
“So the boy is Human?” Boggart nodded. “You call this good news, Boggart, when it does nothing but ruin the plan we had? The CHILD is only supposed to be a year old!”
“Perhaps if her father had magical capabilities, yes, but alas, he was Human. And no where near as good a king as you, my lord!” Boggart added quickly.
Marsolevonie shoved the compliment away and shook his head. Boggart felt as though he could crawl into a corner and stay, but Marsolevonie sighed and massaged his temples. “The girl has grown for fourteen years knowing right from wrong. There is no way we can raise her and teach her what is RIGHT now!”
He hadn’t thought of this. It ruined all of his excitement and the leaves fell suddenly with no color or life left. Marsolevonie rose from his thrown and walked near the flames, stroking something hanging from his neck. “If only,” he had started to talk to himself. “Surely it is too late. Only way I know,” he paced the heated circle and then stopped in front of Boggart once again. “We must take everything.”
The king had a very bad habit of mumbling, but Boggart had no idea this time what he was even talking about. “You must go! Do anything you can and take what you must and do not let her know! This girl IS the daughter of Anvera, and she can bring her family back.”
“If she fails?” Boggart asked, still unsure of what the plan was.
His master paused and looked rather unsure of what he was going to say next. “If she cannot find her brother in order to find her parents, she must die. Clearly she won’t have enough powers to bring them back, meaning her brother MUST have some magic, even more so than her! We’ll find him and teach him our ways… Yes, and if he learns, then he shall live and take the thrown.”
“But, master, what about you being high king over the Seven Kingdoms? Surely after hundreds of years you aren’t giving up now?”
“That’s just it, Boggart. I’ve lived for hundreds of years, longer than I should have even for my race! I won’t be around much longer after the war; elixirs can’t keep me going forever. If I can teach him the ways of Pesil, and the way to rule the Seven Kingdoms, he’ll be the rightful high king. I’ll no longer have to worry about every TRULY winning the war.”
Boggart sighed, finding a flaw in his master’s brilliant plan. When he had noticed, however, he frowned and leapt toward Boggart. “What is the matter, my loyal servant?”
“What if we don’t succeed in training the boy, and the girl doesn’t see the error of her ways? You must continue on with the Elixir of Life!” Boggart had thought that his master was making a mistake; he hadn’t planned this far. For years they had thought the Living child was the boy, and would be an infant, too, but now it had been told that both were Half-Elf and aged like any other normal Human, unlike their mother, whom aged one year every ten years.
Marsolevonie took a turn in sighing and then sat desperately back into his chair, extinguishing the fire. “Then we shall have to use force. Make them find their parents, and then kill them all.” Boggart let himself grow pale. Over these past fourteen years of searching for a baby boy, and a few grown boy just in case, the only time he ever killed was if the infant had been badly injured and already too far from it’s mother.
The girl would be useful. She could help his master by finding her family. Of course the plan had always to kill the queen and her father, but they were just children. The high king had plans on raising them as his own, but only if they were young enough and were able to see his way.
“My lord, are you sure of this plan? It sounds,” but Marsolevonie did not let him finish.
“If you do not feel like doing this for your king, Boggart, I can call upon a more loyal servant,” Marsolevonie brought a long bowing finger up to Boggart’s heart. “Promise me you will not fail, or I shall kill the girl and you. RAFISON!”
A burning sensation came from the King’s finger and burnt the leather vest Boggart had been wearing. A growing hole had shown where a single burn mark lay just over Boggart’s heart. He let out a cry and grabbed his chest in pain. He had been marked with a binding curse.
“Go now, Boggart. Don’t disappoint me.”
“Yes, my lord,” and he left the castle once more, not knowing when he would return again with news.
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Please check out my non-Harry Potter story Elmandoroth Chapter Two is finished.
Last edited by ginnypotter19; March 21st, 2008 at 10:15 pm. Reason: Adding a center code
The Traveling Cart
The sun slowly began to rise over the soft, white cheek of the girl sleeping soundly in her bed. Her long, shining black hair had been braided the night before and still held strong in its leather bound. No sound could wake her as of now. Not even the little bird that had settled near the seal of her window, singing the morning away. As she slept soundly she could not wake. Not until she was ready to at least.
“Jania, yeh confounded girl! Wake up!” a very gruff, tired old man barked, making the sleeping girl finally wake with a sudden jolt. Jania immediately sat up from her small, flattened bed and she glanced over at her curtain, which separated her room from the rest of the house, and gave a small smile to her father.
Berven was a very old man with wild, white hair and a chin full of gray and white stubble. His yellow eyes glared at Jania as she still sat in her bed as he leaned against his carving stick, making him look much more intimidating than he really was.
“What is it?” said Jania as she groggily crawled out of her bed, allowing her long gown to fall to her knees. It was surprisingly warm for a day of fall.
“Traders,” Berven answered as he went away to make some tea. “They’ve come today, and I want yer to go an’ get me supplies.” Changing into one of her self-made dresses, Jania went to help her father, thinking of what they could possibly need. “Do yeh listen, girl? I ain’t making no tea,” said Berven as she gazed at the cup he had laid before her. Truth be told, she hardly knew what was going on this morning. She had been having a strange dream before she had been rudely awakened, but she couldn’t remember what it was.
“You finished your carving?” Jania asked as she sipped the honey and milk that had replaced her tea.
Berven glanced at his walking stick and Jania noticed a glint of pride flash in his eyes. “Finished last night. May need a bit of a smoothin’, but it ain’t nothin’ I’ve never done before. Hurry up with yer drink now. Go on!” Jania couldn’t help but notice that her father couldn’t stand still. He would hobble around the small, carved table and glance out the window every now and then. She had thought about recalling her dream and telling him about the boy she saw.
That was the only thing she could remember- the boy performing his Druid’s magic. Weeks ago Jania had met a young traveler and for his aid she had taught him a few spells she taught herself, well, she thought she had. The spells normally just came to Jania, as if she should know them. Jania had never met someone that could do as she could. The land of Kurval was a peaceful land and it was the only place the Humans had left in order to stay safe. Humans weren’t allowed to do magic, they were considered traitors if they did, and sent straight to King Marsolevonie. Her father of course knew Jania was different, but insisted they didn’t tell anyone, keeping it secret.
Soron, however, the traveler she had met, was not like her. She, on one hand, had been mistaken as an Elf from Zintyra, for her pitch black hair, which she knew could not be so, her ears were not pointed and instead rather dull, but Soron had admitted to living in the Orzonlan Woods which meant he must have been banished from Zintyra or was a sort of sorcerer.
“I swear, girl, yeh listen worse than them Avska people! Always giving away too much meat and never getting what they need to survive. That damn awful Blackness is back and all yeh can do is look into an empty cup!” Berven nervously looked out the window again and Jania’s eyes widened with fear. The Blackness, as her father had called it, had taken her mother a few short months after Jania had been born, and once her father gained a flesh wound during hunting, the Blackness infected his leg and blackened it dead. He used the staff that Jania had found to help support himself and walk around.
“What do you mean the Blackness is back?” Jania asked. “You’re not sick…. are you?”
“No, not yet at the least. The traders, they may have the medicine.” Said Berven but Jania had felt that he had forgotten what he was talking about.
“But what about mother? You said you had tried everything to find a cure, and yet, there was nothing you could do. Father, if you’re sick-”
“Eh? Did I say anything ‘bout a cure? I said medicine, girl, not cure.” Berven interrupted. It had startled her and she nearly fell from her chair. “If yeh don’t get going now, them traders will be long gone from here. I’ll be catching up with yeh later.”
Jania didn’t hesitate. Her foggy thoughts left behind, she kissed her father’s ruff cheek, and not forgetting her cloak, she hurried out of the small hut and into the warm, fall air.
Her father, as a wedding gift, had made the hut, like everything else, to her mother. It had been built in Kurval, but the many years without Queen Anvera, Marsolevonie had let the Orzonlan Woods grow wild as it pleased and there were now tall, oak trees surrounding the tiny hut and its land. She only had to go a short way into the wood, cross a creek, and go through a lighter ring of trees to get to the village. While crossing the creek, however, Jania met a rather cheery face. The woman looked confused, and mildly lost, but when she saw Jania she ran forward to embrace her.
“Jania, come here, child,” said Mrs. Avska, the butcher’s wife. She had wisps of grey hair falling from her untied bonnet and her cheerful blue eyes looked Jania up and down. Jania was rather delighted to see such a familiar face in the woods and she helped the older woman across the creek. Mrs. Avska’s family had lived in Kurval as far back as she could remember, and Jania had been told that the woman had even helped in raising her as well when she was an infant.
Mr. Avska had been a completely different kind of man. He had his moments when he was very clever and he would tease every great once in a while, but he was hardly a man to strike a witty comment to. They owned the Bakery and the Butcher Parlor down in the village and had planned on passing both shops down to their children once they had died and left the world forever. Mrs. Avska hardly worked, and she spent most of her time drinking the occasional sherry, but she never meant anyone any harm.
“What are you doing here in the woods?” Jania wondered aloud as the pair made their way across a second creek that ran off the other half. This side, however, was slightly larger.
“I was comin’,” said Mrs. Avska, “I was comin’ to find you, dear girl. It ‘as been months and we ‘aven’t seen you or that bloody father of yours. By the way, ‘ow is that scoundrel of a man?” Jania frowned and looked away from the woman. There had been a grudge between Berven and Mrs. Avska ever since he stopped letting her watch Jania when she was an infant. He had told her that a woman couldn’t properly look over a child if they always had a strong case of the hiccups, he told her.
Mrs. Avska must have taken Jania’s silence as a sign of sadness. “Oh my, is ‘e sick, too? Margaret and the grandchild ‘ave it as well, the Blackness that is. Which is one of the reasons I’ve come and got you!” the older woman slurred. Jania smiled, hoping not to interrupt the other woman. She was curious as to how things had been going in the village and with months of no communication, she was wondering how the Blackness had spread. “The traders ‘ave come today, you see?”
“That’s why my father sent me.” Jania said. It was apparent that Mrs. Avska had already had her share of the sherry so early in the day. “He needs me to find any medicines I can.” Though she normally believed everything her father told her, she couldn’t believe him this time. She knew there were no medicines and so did her father. He must have been twenty years older than Mrs. Avska and wouldn’t be around long even with the help of the Blackness, but she wanted to keep her father for as long as she could. Fourteen, after all, was not the best age to be left alone to raise yourself.
Mrs. Avska smiled faintly and patted Jania’s arm in comfort. Her daughter, Margaret and her grandchildren were sick now, too. Didn’t she know that there were no good medicines for the Blackness? All it did was help the infected feel slightly stronger and keep going. Didn’t she know that this had been the same Blackness that had killed her mother? Margaret and those children were as sure as dead. Mrs. Avska took Jania by the hand and began to lead her out of the woods.
“I’ll be throwing complaints to that Lord of ours. That ruddy man… we all agreed… I could ‘ave sworn I seen a fairy or two steeling them barriers, I ‘ave.” Mrs. Avska barked. Jania’s eyes digressed from the path and her mind wandered away from the Blackness and onto the magical world outside of Kurval. She had lived in these parts of the woods for so long, and never once had she seen any sign of another magical creature. Could Mrs. Avska really have seen a fairy or two?
Magical creatures weren’t allowed in Kurval, just as humans weren’t allowed to go anywhere else. The only chance a human had to see a magical creature was if they were trading. Things would have been much easier if their Lord wasn’t such a coward; he was afraid to go to war with the High King Marsolevonie. Jania had always heard of the other creatures, but she had never seen them.
With a quick glance around the woods, she suspected that her suspicions of the woman being drunk were confirmed, there wasn’t a magical creature in sight.
“Ah,” Mrs. Avska clapped her rough hands together. “We’ve made it alive,” she added with a wink. There were traders everywhere. Some, Jania noticed, had looked very mean. “You must come and get some food before you trade, dear. Mr. Avska will be thrilled to ‘ave seen you,” she boomed merrily as passerby turned to look. Jania reached for her coin bag, hoping she’d have enough…
“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, missy. You’re welcome to anything you like. Just as long it don’t cost too terribly much. Got to be supported some way, huh?” Mrs. Avska’s laugh was ripe and wheezy. They past men that had been selling priceless jewels that glittered like magnificent emeralds while others were already putting gold coins in their purses. Eggs, raw meat that began to smell, and bread were being sold by one of the hardened men. His eyes followed Jania as she passed a woman selling baskets of soaps.
At last, Jania was able to concentrate on one thing as she walked into the Butcher’s Parlor. Fresh meat that she knew wouldn’t spoil in the hot sun was mixed with other meat related aromas. Jania longed for the dry beef displayed on the wooden cabinet but she grimaced at the freshly hanging meat that still had green slime dripping into a pail below it.
“Tell me I’m dreaming, ‘cause that isn’t the Jania Cabot I knew just months ago,” said a man that was much younger than Berven, though his hair was already starting to gray. Mr. Avska didn’t smile at the sight of her, but he wasn’t completely disappointed to see her either. He disappeared beneath the countertop for a moment and then returned with six lumpy packages. He placed them on the counter and frowned at her when she hadn’t reached for her moneybag. “You owe twelve crowns.”
“Terrian, you stop that this minute. I’ve already told the dear girl she won’t ‘ave to pay for 'er purchases. Don’t give ‘er so much this time, we want ‘er to return sooner than she ‘as.” Mrs. Avska scolded her husband kindly. Jania was uncomfortable with not paying for the food she was purchasing, and she had only brought fifteen crowns, she would hardly have enough for anything else at the trade. Mr. Avska didn’t approve of his wife’s decision but he retired to a wooden stool in a corner and pulled down one of the hanging meats.
The Parlor was old and was just like the hut her and her father lived in, made of all wood. There were a few places where if you scraped against the wall or counter just right you would get a very painful splinter. Mr. Avska tried his best to keep the shop as clean as he could, though in some places there were things that required tools he did not have. If Jania had known how, she would have helped them fix the place up, but she couldn’t even fix up what was wrong with her own hut. It was apparent that they couldn’t just give out free meat like Mrs. Avska had been doing. Guiltily, Jania left the meats on the counter and turned to Mrs. Avska.
“Would you mind if I left them here while I go and do my trading? I would hate for them to spoil, and I shouldn’t be long,” Jania asked, reaching inside her purse. She pulled out two crowns and handed placed them beside the meat. It was hardly enough to pay them for everything they had done, but she would pay them off sooner or later. When the summer seasons would return she would be glad to work at the shop to pay it off.
Mr. Avska turned to see how much she had left, sniffed, and then returned to his precious meat. He wasn’t happy with the offering, but it would suit him well enough.
“Are you leaving us so soon, dear? I ‘ad thought we could talk about ‘ow things are workin’ down there with your father and all. I didn’t know you could ‘ave lived so long without coming ‘ere in the village.” Mrs. Avska seemed slightly disappointed that her company was leaving so soon but she stacked the meats nicely on the counter and was returning with the money when Jania put her purse up.
“Keep it, I will at least pay you for having to keep it a little longer.”
“Thank you, dearest. You take as long as you like, we’ll be ‘ere once you get back. There are some mighty nice things out there, and I’m sure you’ll be able to find that medicine your father is lookin’ for.” Mrs. Avska patted Jania’s hands and then left to help her husband. Feeling very uncomfortable, she left the Parlor and went back outside where she would hope to find the medicine her father had been talking about.
The village streets seemed to be covered with all sorts of carts and beggars. The old man she had passed on her way still stared at her and she quickly staggered away, hoping that she wouldn’t stir any trouble. Jania tried to see what he was selling as she passed, but there were too many customers surrounding his cart to see.
Passing the center of the village she noticed a very peculiar cart that had planted itself underneath the village’s tree’s swaying branches. There was a young boy standing at the cart’s edge and he was peering over to see what the bargainer had to offer. A very old, terrifying woman came out from the tent behind the cart and she smiled ominously at the boy that had waited for someone to arrive. His mother was talking to another woman that had just purchased a fine set of jewels.
Getting closer, Jania was able to hear what the trader was saying. “Get some now, non-beasties,” she said, holding a bag that seemed to be leaking silver dust. “Now before it gets all hot! Not much Fairy dust makes it here, in your dreadful Human land, young non-beastie.” The child had been succumbed to the woman’s persuasive words and he stole a few brown coins from his mother’s small coin purse that was dangling from the belt of her waist. He offered them to the woman that was offering the supposed Fairy dust and she stretched out a pasty white arm, and her skin seemed to stretch over her old bones.
The trader placed the coins behind her neck. Jania thought it was an odd place to store gathered money but she noticed a small chunk of the woman's wild gray hair missing. That's when Jania had realized that the old woman was a Druid, banned from her kind. The stories Berven had told Jania when she was little seemed to be true. Druids were kind, beautiful creatures that never harmed anyone. That's how they used to be at least.
Once King Marsolevonie had come into rule of the Seven Kingdoms, many of the magical creatures had gone to his side, helping to ruin all of the Seven Kingdoms. Druids had started to change, too, and once they had gone bad, the remaining Druids would damage their hair, ruining all beauty a Druid once had. Most, as Jania's father had told her, would turn into hideous, dangerous elders. The trader had shown full proof of that.
Jania couldn't help the curiosity running through her. This woman would be the first magical creature to cross her path, whether she had any magic left or not, but knowing that she had once known the ways of other Druids and magical creatures fascinated Jania.
"Me want the candy! Shh, don't tell me Ma," said the young boy that had been waiting for the Druid to take his money. For some reason, the boy had thought that the Pixie dust was candy, but Jania was slightly afraid of what would actually happen if the contents of the bag were to go down his throat. Though the boy seemed fine on his own, Jania seemed to step up without really knowing she had. At first she had thought it was for wanting to help, but in her heart she knew that it was out of plain curiosity. For some reason the boy's gesture seemed to offend the Druid, because when he had held out his hand, she spat in it.
It seemed an odd thing to do, spitting in customer’s hands, but Jania realized it wasn't to confirm a deal quickly. The spit had seemed to be a rather dark shade of pink, and Jania half suspected that it was blood, but once it had made contact with the boy's skin, it had started to hiss and bubble. The child cried out and tried wiping the spit away on his pants. His mother, finally realizing what had happened, turned around and picked him up. It was time for them to leave that awful woman, and by the look on the child's mother's face, Jania knew that she would soon tell all that cared that the Druid's cart was not for trading. Running out of harm's way, the Druid called out, "Young non-beastie disgraces those not of his kind! The dust is for a throat, as that makes you whine, but poison once added to wine kills all with one drop! One whose child so ignorant is ignorant for raising such one!"
Passerby quickly ran away and grabbed their children, scared that the poison that she had talked about would affect their lives. Hesitantly, Jania stepped up to the spitfire Druid, hoping that with the products she had, something must be available to help her father. After all, the Druid had said that if the dust had been added to wine it was poison, but what if it was simply added to tea, or water? Her father had tried using some of the common, human medicines, but they had never tried using any medicines from the magical kingdoms.
The Druid's emerald eyes widened and she slammed both of her hands onto the cart. Jania jumped and quickly pulled out her coin purse to show she meant business. "Excuse me," she said quietly, "how much is a bag?"
"I know who you are!"
"Excuse me?" Jania asked surprised to have such a welcome from someone she had never met before. She pulled her hands away from the bags of dust before her and made sure that she would be safe.
"I know who you are and you can't hide, little beastie! You do too, don't you? You know who you are!" Her wild, emerald eyes were gazing what felt like inside of Jania and for a moment, she knew how the boy's hand had felt but the pain had gone away nearly as soon as it had come. "It is you!"
Before Jania could say anything to prove that she wasn't who the Druid thought she was, there was a strong wind but she felt as if only she and the Druid could feel it. Many leaves had fallen off near by trees and swirled around them both. Jania's eyes widened in fear but then the leaves fell and both the woman and the cart had gone.
~~~~~~~This actually isn't where I had wanted to leave you guys at on this chapter, but I felt so bad for leaving you guys for so long I thought I would give you this at least. I hope you enjoyed it and feedback is always great to have. I want to thank all of you that already have left me some great feedback!
Please check out my non-Harry Potter story Elmandoroth Chapter Two is finished.
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