"Hate" by Loke Mei Yin

Even in the normally peaceful atmosphere of the chapel, Jieth can feel the restlessness of the crowd gather outside. Silently he thanked the gods that the cathedral was on a cliff overlooking the Greater river roaring below. It could be dangerous- if this place was surrounded, should the decision reached by the council, displease their fellow elves gathered outside...

Rather than look at the elders, Jieth allowed his eyes to wander over the cathedral’s beautiful stained glass windows. The holy images always succeeded at calming him.

When his bundle moved, Jieth’s attention refocused on the baby he had named Dareth rather than continue to call it ‘baby’. The child hasn’t stirred, was merely shifting in respond to some lovely dream it was obviously having. As he looked down at Dareth, Jieth wondered not for the first time, how remarkable this little one is. Dareth is not the first dark elf Jieth had seen, not by a long shot. He was however, the youngest. Studying Dareth’s features, Jieth noted how the face was curved like an elf babe with the elegant visage of their race. From the slight angles of the chin to the high points of it’s ears still soft at the ends. Jieth had no doubt that Dareth would have been irresistible had his parents been elves.

~But they are not, an inner voice spoke out. ~Yes, sighed Jieth. And this was where the problem laid. For despite Dareth’s beauty, the smooth black ivory of his skin clearly marked him to be born from the bloodlines of the dark elves.

Jieth still remembers the day he received Dareth from his friend, the human mercenary Richard Blackwood who chanced on Dareth during a trip through what was an abandoned darkling settlement, and passed the babe to Jieth since his friend was the closest thing he had to an expert on elven offspring. As expected, Jieth had protested at the beginning about it, citing that he was not qualified to be looking after children and also that Jieth didn’t trust himself to act civilly within 2 meters of any drow. At which, Richard had said.

"Jieth, I know of you having no love for them either. But I know you well enough not to hit no babe, darkling or no." At this, Jieth reluctantly nodded, unable to look Blackwood in the eye and lie.

"As for yon qualifications, well… If you’re not qualify, than who be. None of them others I know will be as honourable as you, when it comes to them dark ones, babe or no. ‘Course, they won’t hurt the whew thing but that not a stopping them from abandoning it at the Fringes of the wild then it be no better than killing it themselves. No, they von’t do.

Then, who be left? Me?! Don’t make me laugh, lad."

Holding his tongue, Jieth decided not to remind Richard that the elf was significantly older than the mercenary by more than a few cycles of the moon. For despite his will, Jieth found himself listening to Richard’s reasoning and discovered to his inward surprise, that he agreed with him. The fact that child Blackwood had brought was staring at him with an expression of innocent trust, did not made it any easier. Jieth barely heard Blackwood’s ramblings as he stared back, lost within the depths of those lovely eyes. It was only when Blackwood insistently cleared his throat, did Jieth realised that the mercenary was waiting for a reply to some unheard question. "Pardon?"

Richard rolled his eyes heavenwards as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘and they say elves `ave some of the best manners of the Hundred Lands’ or ‘since he like it so much, vhy must he be so difficult about this. Stubborn pointy ears."

A cross expression passed over Jieth’s features, effectively silenced anymore possible insults with it's promise of eternal pain on Richard’s being if the mercenary did not shut up.

Composing himself, Richard repeated. "The final choice be the babe stay vith me along me travels. Ya know that be…." Richard stopped short beheld Jieth, who, on Blackwood’s statement had grabbed the baby and retreated to the other end of the room even as the elf eyed his friend warily. "All right already, I get de point!"

This time, it was Jieth’s turn to mutter indignities the kinds of which made the rounds included, "no child should be left in the your care" and "I would not have any child damned to so poor a fate!".

While Jieth held it, the baby started to laugh as it reached tiny hands out to pat the plaited lock of hair, held in place by a blue jewelled hairpin, that hang by Jieth’s right ear as a symbol of his membership of his father’s house. Holding the child close to him, it was at that point that Jieth decided to keep the baby. Citing an excuse that he was only looking after it until they found the child a home, Jieth agreed that the child whom he had already decided to name Dareth get to stay in his quarters at the outer hold, for the next five turns of the seasons past till Richard find him a proper home.

The fact that Jieth had isolated chambers in the sparsely populated area of the lower forest-river hold allowed Dareth to remain hidden for one turn of the seasons.

Now they been discovered, Jieth awaited trial, the punishment promised would not be light. It was Dareth’s fate however, that fill Jieth with dread. Although it’s been barely a year since Dareth was left with him, Jieth felt protective of the child, not only because of the fact Dareth reminded him of Arthean. At the thought of his youngest brother, Ian shivered.

"Arthean, oh Arthean. My poor infant brother." A whisper escaped Jieth’s lips.

"So you haven’t forgotten…"

Shocked that he was heard, Ian lifted his head to stare straight into the bitterness of his father’s eyes. The sight of those dreadful eyes made Jieth unintentionally step back.

Lord Aurken leveled his glaze on his son icily, speaking aloud for all to hear, in particular this fallen son of his.

"Arthean, my lovely child, born at the end of the White Cold, two cycles past. You were no older than a ten of moons when your life was cut down." Here, Aurken’s stare intensified with hate and Ian sunk back. "By a darkling raiding party, no less!"

The statement acted like a flare that rekindled the feeling of hate that sweep the small community of forest elves after that horrid attack during the beginning of spring. Hate-filled expressions spread through the elders like wildfire and sicken Jieth even as he recalled his horror during the attack. As one of the few defenders who managed to return before the raiding party withdrew, the majority of the defenders had left earlier in response to an attack on the major holding further upriver, Jieth faced the full terror of the attack in person. The assault upstream had turned out to be merely a decoy, the main raiding party having set it’s sights on the defence-stripped lesser hold. Emotions threatened to consume Jieth as he recalled-the pain of a sword cutting through his flesh-the terror of incoming darkness as he laid in a pool of his own blood-the utter despair he felt when he regained consciousness and discovered Arthean had been slain in the room next to where he himself had almost died.

Madness of hate and the overwhelming sense of failure drove Jieth into withdrew to live in isolation among the now empty quarters in the older sections of the forest. The need of rebuilding eventually brought him back on occasion, even through the sorrow remained when the madness ebbed. Then Blackwood arrived a cycle later with Dareth.

A slight but persistent tugging returned Jieth to the present, discovering that Dareth had awoken and taken to pulling his favourite lock of Jieth’s hair. In the background the elders voices rose as they trailed off the memories of that fateful attack, cursing Dareth for all the indignities they have suffered. Obviously, this was what had woken Dareth in the first place. A glance at his father made Jieth felt smaller than before. The aura surround Lord Aurken was unforgiving and seeping with black hate. Ian watched as his father spoke, "The council has reached a decision."

At this, silence fell down like a cold shadow on the chapel. Jieth could barely believe the words that followed. "Jieth Aurken, having brought shame to your Hold, by the ancient laws you should be banished. But the council recalled your valiant defence of the Hold during the last raid where you almost died and that obviously you have not been well when you took it upon yourself to withdraw from your clan. You are now ordered to return to the main hold to remain under the scrutiny of your elders. As for the forsaken child, it is a seed of evil and must be destroyed before it can rake havoc on this land."

Feeling his legs go weak, Jieth would have fell on his knees had he not caught himself at the last moment. ‘It is a seed of evil and must be destroyed’. Those words danced in his mind, which was a blank, saved those words. The despair and sense of failure that Arthean’s death had planted, resurfaced. A tug from Dareth made Jieth look at the infant, who laughed in joy at having caught his caretaker’s attention. Anger and indignity sized Ian. Straightening, Jieth aimed an accusing finger at the council. "Animals! Have you no honour?! Can’t ya see it is but a child! No matter what wrong de others of his face might have done to us, it does not concern Dareth! He is innocent of them, ya hear me!"

Elder Viente, an elderly female with long pale hair immediately stood. The force of her action knocked her seat right over. "All darklings are evil! Have you forgotten who gave you de scar that now cross ya self from de left shoulder to yon right side?!"

Another, Elder Jarrek who once served as a warrior, added. "And who be said monster that burn our hold and home? The ones who kill our children and destroy our lands. Those who hate us for what we are. The Black Plague! Them dark elves."

Accusations now rained forth, attacking Jieth with words of forgetting his honour and duty.

"ENOUGH!!"

The sudden outburst shocked the Elders into mute attention. Slowly, steady Jieth draw out even as he hang his head. "I have never forgotten."

"With the coming of night, sleep wash over me bearing me back to de exact moments be the attack was. I smell the death and ash in the air as my lips taste my blood. The pain of the sword cutting through me, the fear of ever approaching darkness. But above all, I hear them. I heard the moans of the dying, the mocking laughter of the enemy. And among them, I heard him. Arthean’s voice, over and over. Calling for help, however I can’t find him. I thought I’ll go mad, I still wonder if he might have been alive, had I was faster."

Jieth paused to catch a breath, his tired face looked at every one of the elders, none of whom could meet his eyes. All except his father, whose own twinkled with tears barely held at bay and pain that reflected Jieth’s own. A ghost of a smile danced on Jieth’s face as the next memory came, "then Dareth came. And I remembered, the joy of life and care like de time I first held Arthean. I had to come back, cause there is someone else who needed me here, away from the dreams….."

Shifting his focus, Ian moved towards Elder Jarrek. "Elder, with all that be due. You mentioned the dark ones who hate us and I admit it be true. I’ve seen the expressions upon the faces of those attackers and I swear, I’ll never forget the hate I saw there….I’ve told myself, that should I live through that attack. I’ll never go that way. For that is what makes me different from them, but if ya would kill an innocent out of hate for others of his race, what difference does it makes us from them?"

At these words, the council was render speechless. Then, Elder Viente spoke, "aye. We are not like them. Jieth, child, you do know however that if we keep the child he will not be welcome among the others."

"There is now the problem of who will keep him." Added Elder Jarrek thoughtfully.

Before Jieth could argue that he is perfectly capable of fending for himself and Dareth, another voice rang through the air. "No."

All turned in surprise at Lord Aurken.

"My lord?" Elder Ernst ventured.

The storm upon Lord Aurken’s face merely darken. "Those monsters killed my youngest. I will have blood for blood."

At that, a hand went to the hilt of the sword strapped to his side. Jieth drew back in horror, clinging Dareth tightly to his chest.

"Lord…lord…Aurken!!" Jarrek quickly rose to restrain Aurken who backhand Jarrek into the wall. The remaining three elders tried to approach but were warned back by Aurken who drew his blade. The hiss of metal sliding against metal sounded eerily loud in the chapel’s tenseness. Getting closer, Aurken stopped short just a few steps from Jieth. A hand held out, beckoned immediately at Jieth.

"Come, child. Hand over the demon spawn and let us avenge Arthean."

Bewildered, Jieth responded. "Moon keep us. Why are you doing this? He is a child!"

Lord Aurken sighed loudly, " Somehow, I guessed you wouldn’t give up so easily."

The blade sliced through the air, Jieth cried out in pain as it struck the hand that was thrown protectively over Dareth. Aurken looked annoyed at Jieth, "Give me the beast."

Jieth knew he cannot beat his father even on his best day, there was no way he could now after sleepless nights of interrogations by the council. Nay! His only option was to flee. But as Jieth turned to flee for the doors to the council room, his father’s blade struck him in the calf of his right leg. Screaming in pain, Jieth fell on his side. Frightened by the scream of his guardian, Dareth started to cry. Jieth franticly crawled away, one hand holding Dareth till he was backed against a huge stained glass window. He could hear the sound made by Greater River below and for a moment he wondered why his heart was beating louder then the dire.

Watching his father approached, Jieth tried desperately to plead with his father.

"Why?! Why won’t you let him by? I know you agreed with me that the baby is innocent. So why do you do this? Answer me,

Father!"

Aurken, to Jieth’s surprise could not meet his son’s look. "It should not be….He is a murderer’s child, Arthean was a gift to me by the gods themselves. Jieth, I….I…cannot forgive them. Nor can I forget the pain. Someone, someone must pay for Arthean’s death. It is not fair that Arthean must die whereas the murderer’s spawn live. Surely you understand- Arthean was your brother!"

As they faced each other, it dawned on Jieth that the his father was not going to let Dareth leave this place alive if only to some misplaced notion to make amendments to Arthean’s soul. Jieth could hear the Greater River below, the roaring of the river suddenly impossibly loud, the sound echoed the turmoil in his heart. In the end, Jieth made his decision.

Taking a deep breath, he stared one last time at Lord Aurken.

"Father, I’m sorry."

"Jieth?"

Gathering his strength, Jieth threw himself at the windows, the impact scattering the stained glass into thousand light fragments as Jieth sailed through the glass. Desperately Jieth curled himself up to tried to shelter Dareth as they plunged into the icy waters below.