Prologue
The river was soft and quiet. It was as if it was providing some respect to the task it has been forcible given. The task of carrying two royal bodies down the river.
The bodies of Queen Tamlin of Leah and King Ander Elessedil of the Elves glided slowly down the river. Tamlin's strength stayed with her to the very end, haven chosen to not let Riga's minions force her down the waterfall but instead went into the open embrace of death, and thus was taken quickly.
Ander Elessedil, on the other hand, was a very different case entirely. Ander Elessedil, the youngest son, who was never meant to have sat on the throne but he did. Ander Elessedil, the playboy, who lost his entire family before his eyes, could have ran away but he did not. Ander Elessedil, the care-free man, took on the burden of an entire nation during war and after war, died while doing what he thought was right. He had forsaken his love, Catania, to make sure his people could prosper once again, was thought to be killed – stabbed by the heartless General Riga on his wedding day. Though many events had happen in the short life of Ander Elessedil, being completely dead wasn't one of them, just yet.
Further down the Silver River, a place where the golden palace of Leah was just a headache when looked upon, stood a figure in black. The figure in black was impatient and tapped their right foot in annoyance. The sereneness of the alcove and its prettiness did nothing to sooth the growing anger of waiting within the figure in black.
"By the Ellcrys, why can't it ever be on time when I need it to be? I've spent two days waiting here."
Indeed the figure had been standing there for two days straight, but the annoyance was not from fatigue or hungriness, for the figure never felt them. The annoyance came from the task to be done and it was time sensitive. Very time sensitive.
At long last in the rising light of the dawn, the two royal bodies came into view of the figure in black. The underwater currents, just like death, took the two bodies into two different directions. Queen Tamlin of Leah carried on her final journey that ultimately lead her to the Ocean. For Ander Elessedil, on the other hand, the journey to the ultimate peace would take a diversion or two, four at the max. His body was taken to the alcove where the figure of black was, and was thus, forcibly grabbed by his left arm and forced onto the cold, dewy, grass. If Ander could have groaned from the pain, he would have, but being mostly dead he decided it wasn't worth it. After all death was near, by sheer chance he fell safely into the river, taken little to no water into his lungs. The water was cold and he had let himself take comfort in its numbing properties and its ability to finish off what Riga had started. He did not count on, however, the medium sized figure in black giving him a telling off for doing just that.
"By the Ellcrys, did you just let him use you as a pincushion?" The figure of black said with air of annoyance. "Why not just leap on the sword and say bon voyage? It would have been damm quicker and easier to fix."
Ander could not see the figure in black. After all he was mostly dead, and only at that moment, the smallest portion of his soul was still tethered to his body. Though he could certainly hear them, loud and clear. Whoever it was, their voice was a strange mix of the common highland and of the royal accents in his kingdom. It was something Ander had not heard before and for the remaining life in him, he did not know where it could have come from. While noting this, as one of his final thoughts, Ander was suddenly blinded by blue light.
If the stranger's voice was perplexing, then the blue light was a mystery beyond his understanding. The blue light was the opposite of the river. While the river froze him, the blue light warmed him. While the river had lovingly numbed him to death, the blue light harshly awakened the pain in his body to life. On the whole Ander Elessedil was ready to jump back into the river again, in less than a minute.
Ander felt a tingling in his chest and then a painful and sudden THUMP. This was his stab wound healing and his heart coming back to life, though he was unware of that. It was the opposite that had happened when Riga had stabbed him. The tingling was all over his body as the rest of him, who had just been getting used to the slow, near full stop, of circulation of blood, suddenly became from a snail to a wild stallion in mere seconds. His fingers started to twitch with excitement of coming back, his toes similar but they were more constrained from within his shoes.
With a sudden arch of his back, Ander Elessedil, King of the Elves breathed once again. He had beaten death but now as he opened his eyes, he only wondered one thing.
Who the hell was this figure in black given him a face of pure annoyance?
This takes place slightly during but mostly after the events of season two of "The Shannara Chronicles", where most of the events I disagreed with wholeheartedly. I have decided to try to give Ander a more fitting story and I hope you enjoy! Comments are very much wanted.
Reluctantly Untitled