Moving Sale: Magic Rings and Other Trinkets Half Off - Page 9
© Michael Martinez
The Elves must have taken many of their lesser enchantments for granted. Whether it be soothing a frightened horse or merely singing up a breeze, they must have exercised their wills in countless ways that would leave mortals gaping in astonishment. And yet, if an Elf decided to leave a long-time home, a land where his or her thought and love were reflected in every bush and garden path, the decision must have been painful. Greater still, then, must have been the love for the things they took with them: gifts, perhaps, from other Elves, but surely also items made in those once-in-a-lifetime moments. An Elven house might eventually be filled with artifacts that resonated with the thought of their makers. The Elves may have lived in a sort of perpetual state of soothing music which unfeeling mortals could not hear.
And thus, when the hoards were robbed and the treasuries emptied, and the victorious soldiers of the enemies took off with their loot, the songs would continue unheard, unappreciated. The Elves most surely placed a greater value in the things they made than their enemies. Was the greater tragedy, then, that which befell the items lost in the crossing of the Helcaraxe, where they sank beneath the cold, cruel waves? Or did the Elves lament the stolen voices of their cherished treasures, trapped in cold, unfeeling walls whose masters did not even understand what the items said to them?
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