A/N: Thank you to my beta Captain Fantastic, you are a hero for putting up with my craziness. Without further ado, ReeAySon! Hoo-Ray!
Disclaimer: I had already written this before I realized I didn't really need it, but since it's here, the credit for the name Nix goes to Pandemoniumisbestinlargedoses. It was just a working name, dearie, but I forgot to change and Nixil was just so perfect.
"Our people cannot stave off death much longer, Wendell. The last of the late millet will run out in less than two weeks; Harvest cannot be for another month and a half at least, Lissan willing the weather stays as it is. The children are becoming sick, the women despairing; soon the men will become restless. Go to the king, Wendell. Tell him of the hunger that tears at our bones. He knows the elves do not request charity lightly-- he will come to our aid, as we came to his. Go, child, and be back before the month is out."
Wendell ground his teeth, staring out at the winding road before him. The horse's trot had long since ceased to disrupt his thinking, and despite it being more than a week since his departure, he saw too clearly the harrowed visage of his father. The words were still etched clear in his mind, overdramatic (as was his father's custom) but still powerful.
It had been two years of deep winters and long droughts in the Southwest Borderlands, and although they had rationed and waited and devised various and clever ways to survive this most difficult of times, their luck finally ran out. Their stores, hoarded for so long, began to dwindle rapidly, and storms began to crash in from the Leaping Lake, halting the planting, ruining the crops and dampening spirits by the villageful.
And now Wendell was here, rushing across a land he knew nothing about to a castle and king who, despite his father's assurance, he knew would not care. The King of Cabot was a decent man, but he was just that-- a man. He would not understand the demands and needs of the elves, and he would not wish to. They were just as foreign to him as the half-mad Rukubriks to the South or the people of Myla to the Northwest .
He would not go out of his way to help them, of that Wendell was certain.
He shivered, the cold breezes shocking him out of his terrible reverie. He drew his cloak tighter around himself, sighing with relief as he turned the corner into a meadow.
He could see the tip of the Leaping Lake--only three more days now, and he would arrive. Maybe then this nightmare could finally be over.
"So I don't understand how this works... If you and Papa live forever, why bother training me? I mean, really, what's the point in instructing me in the ways of diplomacy if you two can just rule till the end of time?"
They had only given me a day and a half to come to terms with what they would have me do before I began lessons again-- only instead of knitting and embroidery it was tax law and extended lessons from 'The Simplistic Monarch'. I had been here all of three minutes and already I was missing the familiar clacking of needles. At least that was brainless.
"Well, darling, I assume we'll be doing it the same way your grandparents did it. When we feel like you've been prepared enough, perhaps a few years after your coronation to make sure you've got a handle on things, we'll exit surreptitiously. Maybe we'll go on a trip and never return, or get taken away by a river, or disappear into the night-- although...that may not be such a good idea. Wars have been started from lesser things."
My mother gave me a sad smile, and a pebble of guilt dropped into my stomach. Her entire family had been killed in the last Overwater war against the Southern Rukubriks-- all slaughtered in a ruthless raid. She had been the only survivor from her tiny village, and by the time father found her, the only one for twenty miles with the strength to stand.
A strong woman, my mother, full of life and wit. I had always wished to be like her, giving smiling advice from the shadows whilst my husband dealt with people and their unpleasantness. Although my father had a temper, he had a certain inborn knack for diplomacy that I lacked greatly-- I wondered if they realized that.
But that dream was gone now. I was to be the one in front, smiling, lying, laughing at jokes that weren't funny and grinning at people I'd loathed since birth.
I'd rather be dead.
"Hush, child. You have work to do, and it needs your full concentration. While you're at it, you can work on keeping your thoughts inside your head," she chastised lightly, tapping one of the stacks of documents that were strewn around the giant desk. I sighed.
"I don't even know what half of these mean, Mama..." I said, gathering a sheaf of paper in my hand and leafing through it despairingly."Horizontal equity? Continuing appropriations? What the... applications without modular budgets will require a full, itemized listing of direct... Mama, this is ridiculous. Isn't there someone who can translate this for me or something? Lissan, even Nix knows more about this stuff than I do. At least he's had some semblance of training!"
She shook her head with a laugh, patting my back as she stood up.
"You will learn, my darling," she said, practically skipping out of the study, and I placed my head in my hands, feeling terribly overwhelmed.
What was I going to do now?