Breaking Hearts
It was shaping into a very beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly overhead and a gentle breeze tickled Adras’ skin as it passed by, weaving its way between the trees that he and the elf walked amongst.
"How do you fare? Should we return to the cabin?" He asked his new, blond friend.
Locke lifted his eyes to the branches above and a small, delicate smile appeared on his lips. "I feel better than I have in days. The trees seem to give me energy."
Adras returned the smile. It was hard not to smile at this being. The elf was a wonder to behold, even in his oversized clothing. Adras had lent Locke some of Dorias’ outerwear and the large, baggy clothing made the elf appear even younger and more frail than he had previously. The black color contrasted sharply with the elf’s pale skin and the thick pant-legs and sleeves of his tunic needed rolling to allow movement.
Walking with Locke was a gift from on high. Moving at a pace that didn’t tire the old man out and allowed him to spend time absorbing nature, Adras couldn’t help but allow his smile to grow. He adored every moment that he spent with Locke and he suspected that the elf felt the same way. Locke made him feel alive again, made him laugh and cry. In short, Locke made him feel.
In a deep, dark place at the back of his mind, Adras almost hoped that Locke’s memory would never return. It was a selfish thought, but the elf was becoming like a son to him and Adras hated the idea of losing him.
‘But what must his family feel of his absence?’
The smile slipped now and Adras stopped on the path the pair had been traversing. A split second later Locke also stopped and turned to look at the old man, a questioning look on his fair face. The elf didn’t speak but stepped closer to Adras and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Locke?" Adras began. "Have you had any improvement in your memory?"
Locke’s slender hand slid from Adras’ shoulder and his eyes fell to the forest floor. His silence persisted as he turned and began walking once more.
Adras lurched forward in pursuit of the elf. "Locke?"
Pausing briefly to watch a small butterfly flit across his path, Locke sighed heavily. "Your hospitality has been so wonderful that I find myself fearing a return to a world that I do not know. What if the world I come from has nothing but disdain for me? What would happen if my memory were to return and it is only horrible and dark?"
Adras felt his heart drop into his stomach at the mention of such a possibility. He reached out his wrinkled hand and gently grabbed the elf’s elbow. "Then you shall stay here, with me." The smile that reappeared on Locke’s face was so warm and exuded such appreciation that it warmed the old man’s heart.
"Come, if you are enjoying yourself so much, then there is no need to return home." Adras chuckled as he resumed his path between the trees.
They walked in silence for a while, Locke enjoying the nature that surrounded him and Adras enjoying the comfortable silence of his companion. The air felt warm but the gentle breeze kept either of them from feeling the heat. Birds sung in the treetops overhead and Adras found himself smiling ever bigger when he noticed that they became more animated and persistent when the elf passed beneath them. Never had he seen one have such an effect on all that he came into contact with.
So engrossed in the songs of the feathered creatures that he nearly knocked Locke over when he failed to notice that the elf had stopped. Adras didn’t say a word, he just stood, observing his companion. Locke stood still, his arm outstretched and his palm pressed flush with the trunk of a rather large, old oak tree. His eyes seemed blank as they stared openly ahead, his head was cocked sideways in, perceived, contemplation.
"Do you hear it?" Locke whispered, a look of contentment overcoming his features.
Adras leaned forward, ever so slightly, tilting his ear to the sky in hopes of understanding what it was that the elf spoke of.
"It is beautifull." Locke twisted his head to look to the old man. "Adras, can you hear it? Can you hear the trees?"
Adras’ brow crinkled in confusion and he stepped closer to the elf and placed his own hand upon the tree just next to Locke’s long slender one. "I hear nothing my young friend."
Locke didn’t speak then but continued to stand utterly still. The only sign of movement being the slight rise and fall of his eyebrows as though in response to a long, wonderful story being told by an old, dear friend. His pale faced lightened in another, more radiant smile and Adras’ heart sang to see the elf so happy.
"What do they tell you?" He questioned the elf, moving his head even closer to that of his friend’s.
Locke released a joyous chortle. "It is more emotion than words. They are happy. They act as though they are greeting an old friend. It is as though they sing. It is the most beautiful sound that I have heard."
Adras stood beside the elf for a long moment, not wanting to interrupt in the child’s moment of happiness. The conversation between the two continued and the aged gentleman watched in silence for a time before stepping back and leaning against a nearby tree to give Locke some space and time. Raising his eyes to the overhead branches, the man noticed that the birds had quieted some and the limbs seemed to bend in closer to overhead as though sheltering the pair from the warmth of the sun as midday resigned itself to early evening.
He found himself studying Locke as Locke studied what the trees sang of. As his eyes scanned over the elf, Adras kept finding himself drawn back to the child’s head, still bound very tightly beneath a blue bandage. The wrapping covered the tips of his pointy ears but the ends of the laceration could be seen peering from beneath, just behind the delicate feature. Adras knew that the two head injuries still greatly plagued Locke but the elf hid his pain and discomfort well. Blond hair poured out to the bandage and spilled down the elf’s back, shining brightly against the black of his borrowed tunic.
Then, Locke gasped and pulled his hand from the tree and Adras found himself rushing to the elf’s side. "What is it child? Are you well?"
Locke turned frightened and confused eyes to the old man and grasped Adras’ wrinkled hand with his own. "Their song shifted. Something comes."
Adras twisted his head around, scanning the small forest around them. The birds song continued and even though the trees had darkened slightly with the lowering of the sun, the forest seemed safe and secure. "I think you have had too much air. It is time for us to return home. Come."
Locke seemed to shake himself out of the shock and moved with Adras toward the edge of the trees. Adras found himself continuously looking over his shoulder to ensure that his young charge followed. The sudden change had frightened him and he worried ever more for Locke. Perhaps the child wasn’t as well as Adras had thought.
"Thank you for bringing me out here Adras. The turning leaves are magnificent." Locke smiled and Adras could detect the elf’s attempt to ease his aging, worried mind.
Adras dipped his head in agreement. "Aye, the flaming colors are beautiful but I prefer the green leaf of summer."
Locke’s sudden absence beside him forced the old man to stop and turn in search of his young friend. The elf stood several feet behind him, his palm pressed tightly to his head, just over his left ear. "Locke?" Adras queried.
"Green leaf." Locke’s voice was so soft that Adras had to strain his aging ears to understand what the elf said.
"Locke, what is it child?"
"Green leaf." Locke breathed, his brow creased as though in pain or deep thought. "I know that voice."
Adras stretched out a tentative arm to the elf, placing his shaking hand upon the child’s shoulder. "Locke,?" He could see that his young charge was experiencing a brief moment of remembrance. Something had been revealed and whatever that something was, it had an emotional effect on the elf. Adras raised a wrinkled finger to the elf’s cheek and brushed away a light tear. The old man’s heart seem to be tearing in two. Happy that the elf seemed to be improving. Sad that he had come a step closer to losing his heart.
"ADRAS!"
Both elf and man startled out of the moment as the yell that rang through the air sending birds fleeing and forest animals scurrying to hide. Adras gripped the elf’s arm tighter and the elf swayed some at the disturbance of their peaceful afternoon.
"ADRAS. GET OUT HERE OLD MAN!"
Locke shifted, turning to face his caregiver. "Who is it? What do they want?"
Adras leaned from left to right, twisting his neck in the direction of his home from which the yell seemed to originate. He strained to see between the thick trunks in hopes that he could get a glimpse of who sought him.
"I know not child. Stay here, I will call to you when it is safe to come home."
Locke moved to resist the request but Adras expected this and held a quieting hand up to the elf. "Nay, Locke. Stay put."
Before Locke could object further, Adras turned and hurried, as fast as his old legs could carry him, back toward the cabin. Along the way he found himself quickly glancing over his shoulder to ensure that Locke had not followed. So worried was he about the elf that his own well-being did not even cross his mind.
"ADRAS!"
Stepping out of the woods, Adras was stunned to see his son, sitting atop a large horse, surrounded by half a dozen men, none of which he recognized. He forced himself to keep his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to give up the knowledge that Locke was hiding in the woods.
"Dorias. What is going on here?" Adras called across the way to his son. "I was in the woods hunting mushrooms. Has something happened? Are you well?"
Dorias dropped his chin to his chest and Adras stopped in his tracks, stumped by the obvious disgrace that he saw in his son’s eyes.
"Dorias is fine old man." Adras swung his gaze to a tall man sitting just to Dorias’ right. The man wore a heavy, blue cloak over brown leggings - although Adras debated shortly as to the original color of said leggings. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders and his tanned face was hidden behind a week’s worth of stubble. "Where is the elf?"
Adras felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and he glanced back to Dorias, knowing now why his son appeared so shamed. He felt his mouth fall open in shock and disappointment as he turned casually back to the stranger. "I know not of what you speak."
"Do not play daft with me old man. I have it on good authority that you have been hiding a fugitive in your home and that fugitive just so happens to be an elf." The man swung down from his horse and slowly approached but Adras’ attention was back on his own son. "Now, this will be a lot easier if you will just tell us where the elf is."
Adras shifted on his feet, his palms beginning to sweat. "I do not know of any fugitive or any elf. You must have been misinformed."
"Is that so." The stranger glanced back up at Dorias. Then, in one swift movement, he was swinging back toward Adras, his hand held wide open.
Adras stumbled backward at the force of the blow and instinctively lifted his hand to his now split lip. Turning back to where his son’s horse stood, Adras noted that now all of the men were off their horses, Dorias included. His son, surprisingly, had placed himself between the stranger and himself, his hand placed behind him, holding Adras up.
"Look Rathir," Dorias yelled, "the elf has obviously left. He was looking better when last I saw him. He has probably returned home."
Adras searched the group frantically, watching the situation spiral out of control. His face stung where he had been struck and he fought the urge to look back to the woods to ensure that Locke had remained hidden.
"Dorias, do you think you can fool me?" Rathir pushed Dorias out of the way and two other men stepped in to restrain him. "Now listen old man, your life, and that of your son’s, is not worth an elf. Hand him over."
Adras swallowed thickly and pushed his shoulders back. "I told you, I do not know of any elf." His voice remained steady and his gaze was fixed on this intruder.
Before Adras knew what hit him, he found himself sprawled out on the dirt, his breath coming in short gasps. His lungs burned and his head ached from the blow he had received. His ears were ringing, causing the sounds around him to come to him muffled. But what he heard made his blood run cold.
"Father!" Dorias’ concerned call was cut short by a loud grunt and thud. His son had fought to protect him but, in the end, he was outnumbered. Adras turned in the direction that Dorias had last been and saw his son laying on the ground, eyes closed tightly.
"Dorias?" He pushed himself up onto his knees but was halted from completely rising by a sharp pain in his chest. His right hand flew to his shoulder and clenched at it.
"ADRAS!"
NO! It was the voice that he absolutely dreaded hearing. With his hand placed firmly over his chest and shoulder Adras turned in the direction of the voice. "NO! Stay put!"
But it was too late, Rathir and his men had already noticed Locke running toward him and Adras fought to rise to his feet. He had to stop these men from hurting his charge. He had to save the one who had saved him. They couldn’t be allowed to harm his heart.
"Locke turn back. HIDE!" He heard himself yell but the words sounded hollow in his head. Locke was stumbling across the clearing which housed the cabin, his hand continuously going to his bandaged head.
Adras rose to his feet and pitched dramatically to his left. He urged his legs to move him closer to Locke, but it was strong hands that stopped him this time and Adras found himself being restrained by two large, dirty men.
The pain in his chest increased as he fought against his captors, his only thoughts of Locke. It was the scream of his young friend that made the fire burst within him. He pushed against the two men, arms swinging, legs flying. Dust swirled around the clearing making it difficult to see who still stood and who had fled.
"Locke!" Adras’ voice cracked as he called to the elf. His eyes began to fill with tears, which quickly turned to a paste from all of the dust in the air.
"Adras!" The strained, frantic voice, tore his heart even more and the old man fell to his knees, the pain ripping through him.
"Locke." This call was barely above speaking tone as Adras dropped his left hand to the dirt to keep from falling over. Then, he felt the most warm, welcome presence at his side. Long, thin arms wrapped around him and Adras felt safer then.
"Adras, what ails you? What is happening?" Locke’s quaking voice delved into the very core of the old man.
"Locke." Adras’ vision started to darken around the edges and he fought to maintain focus on the elf’s fair but frightened face. Tears filled Locke’s eyes and the sight made Adras’ throat constrict. He was on his back now, cradled in the elf’s fragile but strong arms. "Locke. The name is not fitting, for you were my key. Do not give up. Thank you."
He felt the elf caressing his wrinkled, sweat covered face and even though the elf spoke consoling words to him, he could not make out what was being said. Adras grasped Locke’s frail fingers in his own, not wanting to let go. "Thank you." He repeated once more and then he closed his eyes, the pain subsided and he basked in the warmth of the love that engulfed him to the end.