The Buried Rose

Submitted into Contest #88 in response to: Write a fairy tale about an outsider trying to fit in.... view prompt

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Fantasy Fiction

                         

Rowara sat on a marble stone, her feet barely touching the water below. She couldn't concentrate. Her thoughts were jumbled with memories and sorrow. So much had happened in the last two weeks.

For her fourteenth birthday, she had asked her mother if they could go on an expedition. She had wanted to have some peace, settle down, and maybe have an adventure to recall later in life. In the middle of the expedition, her mother had found an unnatural crack in the mountain. She had called Rowara to her, but it had taken a while to find out it was a door. They had spent a while gazing and admiring the door. It had beautiful carvings of strange people on it, and lovely lakes. When they opened this door, they realized it was one of the lost elven cities. Yet it was not lost. Only hidden. After a few minutes of stepping through the doorway, an elven archer noticed them. Before they could realize they were humans, Rowara's mother had been shot with an arrow. Once they did realize they were humans, a healer named Veara tried to heal Rowara's mother. But it was too late. Rowara's mother was dead.

At first, Rowara had been too grief stricken to even think of exploring the beautiful city. After a week, she had enough sense to go out of her tent which she was staying in. Only then did she realize and appreciate the beauty of the city. The rivers and lakes shined like diamonds, and the stones like emeralds.

Rowara hated the stares she got when seen by other people. Why is a human in our elven cities? I thought our cities were hidden. She knew she looked nothing like an elf. At one time, people told Rowara that she had pointy ears. And she did, to a human, not an elf. She didn't even look half elf. It was a saddening thought, that she would always have to stay here, for the rest of her life, because she could not tell or show people this or any other city. She would always be a misfit.

If only, but then her thoughts were interrupted by a voice. "Rowara."

Rowara turned to see the speaker. It was one of the high elves, Findir. He was a grave man, and very serious. 

"The council wants to talk to you." he finished."

Rowara spoke carefully, making sure she was polite. "Thank you, Findir. I shall come as quickly as I can." then she stopped. Where was the council?

"Umm.... before you leave, where do I find the council?" Findir rolled his eyes, looking very irritated. Then, reminding himself she was human, restored his patience.

"I shall send someone to lead you there." he answered.

***

A few minutes later, a young girl arrived. She had a bright smile, and, like no other elf Rowara had seen, had terribly pointed ears. The girls blue eyes shined into Rowara's. "Hi! I'm Andriel. You are Rowara, yes?"

Rowara stuttered. "Umm.... yes. Of course. Yeah, I'm Rowara."

Andriel smiled. "Ok! I will lead you to the council room."

"Okay." Rowara smiled to herself. Finally someone was kind to her.

***

Once Andriel and Rowara arrived at the council, Andriel quickly excused herself. “I am very sorry, but I have other matters to attend to.” Though to Rowara, she didn’t sound too sorry.

 “Thank you for escorting our guest here, Andriel.” Said a man Andriel had taught on the way here was called Aldwyn. Andriel curtsied, and quickly went on her way. Suddenly Rowara felt her hands getting sweaty. She quickly wiped them, and sat down.

“I hope you are not exasperated by Andriel’s chatty ways.” Said another man named Vindor. “I am afraid that is just her nature. But all in all, she’s a good girl.”

“Oh no! Not at all. She’s very nice and friendly.” Replied Rowara hastily. Inside, she was laughing wildly. Andriel? Chatty? They obviously had never met a chatty human.

“Glad you think so. Now, to business. I have been told that one of my archers killed your mother. Am I right?” Once Rowara had nodded, he continued.

“I am very sorry to tell you, but it seems as if you will have to live with elves the rest of your life. It is a saddening thought for a human, but you will soon get used to it. Then, no longer will you want to go back with humans.”

Rowara nodded, unable to speak. It indeed was a saddening thought. Yet it was so hard to believe that she would most likely never see her kind again. But then, she tried to look at the good side of things. Elf or not, in the elf cities, you would be immortal. It had something to do with the air in the cities.

 She wished she might be able to see her father again. Though he did not care much for her, her father cared for her more than the elves. At least, that was how it seemed. She wished she could fit in, and make friends.

“But I promise you, we shall make sure you live a happy life here. We cannot make friends for you, but we can do as much as ask everyone to be friendly toward you. Oh, and make sure you don’t panic if you see a dragon.” Finished Varden.

Rowara gasped. A dragon? Nobody had told her about dragons. Half of her wanted to shiver with fear, while the other half wanted to yell out, Cool! Can I see the dragon? Where is he or her?. But, keeping her voice from quivering or getting louder with fear or excitement, she said, “a dragon? Where might I ask, does he or she live? And who is allowed to ride her?”

“Her name is Bizzora, she lives anywhere she wants, and anyone she lets can ride her.” Said another man named Nevarth. “Though very few people have ever ridden her.”

Rowara nodded, for the ninth time that day. “Yep. Ok. Thanks for talking to me.”

***

The next day at sunrise, Rowara went quickly to find Bizzora. She searched for hours, but with no success. Soon she came to the exact place where her mother had been shot. She sat down, full of memories. A tear dropped down to the place where her mothers footsteps should’ve been. Why couldn’t they make a memorial for her, something to remember her by? She asked herself bitterly. More tears filled her eyes, soaking her light blond hair. Come on, think of happy things, Rowara. She told herself. But she couldn’t. She wished she could do something to remember her mother. She hoped she could always look back on and recall her mothers soft but happy voice, her light smile, and her comforting nature. She knew that someday she would make friends. If that was today, or in a thousand years, she did not know. But it was not that important. She wanted her mother to remind her of courage, hope, and happiness. Her mother was never as beautiful, powerful, or wonderful as elves, but, in her own way, her mother was the greatest person that ever lived. So Rowara did the only thing acceptable for her mother. For her hero. For her conqueror. She took one of the beautiful roses from the rose bushes and buried it. She stood up, dusted herself off, wiped her tears, and looked at the buried rose. She would find friends. She would never give up. She would remember her mother. And she would be courageous. All for her mother.

April 04, 2021 23:40

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