"My thanks for this lovely charm bracelet," Lor'themar Theron intoned.
The tauren woman – young, by the look of her, but it was hard to tell with those creatures – winked flirtatiously at him. She then chuckled, or giggled, or some sort of bovine equivalent, and left in a mad rush of hooves and wet fur smell.
He sighed, glancing down at the item in his hand. It was clear that this one had been made in a hurry, and certainly had not been touched by delicate elven hands. In fact, there was nothing the least bit lovely about it. He'd be afraid to try to put it on, even if he desired it; the charms had been set in such a way that it would have been downright painful to wear.
"One more for the pile, eh?" one of the elves beside him said, his voice thick with amusement.
Lor'themar frowned. "You want it, Rommath? Take it." He thrust out his hand, the bracelet dangling between his fingers. He thought he could feel it pierce the skin.
Rommath barked laughter. "I wouldn't be caught dead with that."
Sighing again, Lor'themar turned to the elf on his other side. "Let me know if another visitor arrives."
Halduron nodded. "Even if they have a bracelet for you?" Though his expression was carefully solemn, he sounded as though he was barely containing laughter.
"Yes. Even then."
Lor'themar turned and walked away, deeper into the Sunfury Spire, to a room that stayed locked up tight for fifty weeks of the year. It was nondescript from without; a small door, only big enough for one to enter at a time, its frame plain but solid. Opening the door, however, was always a startling experience.
The room had no furniture, no surfaces, not even a candle to light it. It shone, though, with a million tiny lights, each a charm, reflecting the light pouring through the doorway. Not for the first time, Lor'themar stood in the room, staring at the pile, his one bracelet hanging limply in his hand as he regarded the futility of his actions.
He dropped the bracelet onto the pile.
He wondered what it was that drove so many to such madness at this one time of year. None of it made sense – not the bracelets, not the unprovoked flirtation, not the force-feeding of floury chocolates, and certainly not the strange impulse some had to throw petals in one another's faces. It was all in the name of love, they said. But how was there love in any of that? How was there anything at all, other than obnoxious, pointless ritual?
He'd heard that all the faction leaders had this trouble. Honestly, if he'd known that this was going to happen, he'd have reconsidered volunteering to become Regent Lord.
Then again, he thought, remembering. Maybe not.
He looked for it. Found it hiding in the shadows where he left it, in the corner, away from the pile. Nobody ignorant of its existence would have known it was there, and even if they'd chanced upon it, they'd not have known it was any different from the others. But it was.
He picked it up and turned it over in his hand, watching as the faint light caught on its charms. If someone had mistakenly tossed this bracelet into the pile, he wouldn't have worried. It might have taken him days to find it, but he'd have managed. He'd recognize it anywhere. It was beautiful, far more delicately made than any other he'd received. Elven hands had crafted this one.
Yes, he thought firmly. She is elven.
"My lord," Halduron said from behind him, startling him. Rangers had to be sneaky, and the ranger captain was good at his job. "You have another visitor. A troll fellow." This time, he couldn't hide the smirk.
Lor'themar winced, then nodded, slipping the bracelet surreptitiously into his robe pocket. It was time to receive some more love.
