The Crone

Alone in the darkness a single vehicle waited on the great road, in front of it two figures stood.

A black clad male elf, his body still unhealed and wounded from battle, his heart heavy. He stood tall despite his wounds and weariness.

 The other figure stood her flowing silk robes, white and ethereal in the Runner's headlights, the none existent winds of the desert held aloft the ends of the tendril like scarves that wrapped her body.

The elf stood before the Crone. Her beauty immeasurable, so too her malice and her cruelty. He saw her for what she was for they had met before and would so again for their destinies were woven together, to amuse the gods.

'I have a gift for you.'

'Do you not mean payment', hissed the crone, her voice silken and dangerous.

'You may take this from my debt if you wish, this wizard has no worth to me.' 

He cast the bag onto the road between them, turned and strode back to the awaiting car.  

'I accept your gift as part of your payment, for I can feel your pain, taste it I can. This man has wronged you?!!.... His torment will taste so very sweet'

  "No, he wronged a noble lady." The elf didn't even turn back to face the crone, 'Care for him well Crone.' Sixteen did not hear nor notice him leave, so lost in the joy of her new toy, for the truly wicked were rare in her domain and they juicier than the innocent.

  The dwarf drove too terrified to speak.

  "If you tell any of this rendezvous you shall be my next gift to the Crone of Sixteen."

  The dwarf was still spellbound and terrified by the crones beauty, he would have to stop by here again and seek her out to be sure his eyes had not lied to him. But he could hear the terror in his heart it pounded still, forcing him down the road at even greater speeds. Faster and faster away from the beautiful princess that he longed for.

  The elf knew the dwarf would never dare stop here, unless the lady called to him. But dwarves bored her, for they thrive in torment and hardship.

  "Who did that man wrong, was it some noble dark elven lady, did he bewitch her tell me the story. I will tell no-one you have my word"

  The Elf was already asleep and probably would be so for a week.

  As soon as the dwarf arrived back at Gauntlets gate, he dragged the elf from the car and to his room at the saloon. All-though the dwarf was small and the elf large the weight did not slow the dwarf rather the height difference did.

  It was during this struggle that the dwarf noticed the elf's body armour. It clung to him like a hardened magical skin. The armour had been breached in several locations but it seemed that the armour healed faster than the elf that wore it. Through these holes the elf still bled. His new overcoat was drenched in blood.

  "Stupid elf, I hope that the vengeance was sweet enough for it may cost you your life."

  The elf dreamt of simpler times when he was a child and his father still ruled, War was everywhere but at least the responsibility was not his. He longed for death but he knew his fate and that reward would not be his any time soon.

  He had a new sorrow to carry with him for all eternity. The tragedy of a discarded child that never forgot the kingdom no matter how much it tried to forget her.