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WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES – BY HEXADECIMAL OF SONOMA

When I close my eyes
I can see that heavenly form
Tracing its finger across my heart
The touch that sooths
Like breathe from an angels whisper

As I come down
And the light plays its flame across my face
I long to feel that softness
Caressing me across the stretch
Between night and day

I catch myself drifting to dream
Holding on to nothing
Save the memories of a distant echo
That still floods my mind

My heart raises its hand
Grasping at the stars
To watch you slide
Through my fingers

Hesitantly the man approached the tavern, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his brow, concealing his delicate Elvin features. His painted face, though savage looking in its design would not be enough to hide his heritage. Although times were better than before, there were still few places in the humans lands were an elf would be welcome.

Smoothly he opened the tavern door, and quickly took at seat in the darkest corner he could find. It was still early, though he knew better than to be late. He nervously glanced about the room to see if anyone had noticed, apparently the patrons of the Golden Tankard were too busy with their affairs to observe his entrance.

“We don’t serve your kind here hooded stranger” a gruff voice hissed, the tavern owner stood at his table peering into the shadows of his hood “You best be one your way now!”

“I am here to meet someone, I will order something while I wait” though not well rehearsed in the human language he spoke calmly.

“Your money is not wanted here, tell me now who you are meeting or I will have you sent out” The Tavern Keeper was drawing more attention than what the elf wanted. The Old barkeeps hand reached behind his back, feeling for the dagger he kept tucked into his belt.

“The man I seek is named Atlas” The elf spoke, his almond shaped eyes flashed dangerously from under his hood.

“Atlas” Being shocked the name came out as a gasp “And how do you know this man? Do you mean to do him harm? Not that it matters, he hasn’t been though these parts for months now” The tavern keeper eyed him suspiciously.

“He saved…He will be here, I will wait” he spoke firmly

The tavern keeper thought for a moment “Very well, since you seem to know him, you can stay, but don’t think this means you are welcome” The man beat his fist in his palm. Feeling guilty about his last comment the man added “I’ll get you some wine while you wait…”.

The hooded man removed a whistle from his pocket. It bore a mysterious design and appeared to have been carved from an unknown wood. Deep in thought, the elf absentmindedly smoothed the feathers that adorned its sides.

 

---

It had been nearly a month since his banishment, and although he had quickly learned the ways of this new landscape, the pain of his loss still haunted him. His face was painted in what was called an “Uliath Quay ” which in his Elvin tribe was a symbol of a warrior’s sworn promise of retribution. Once sworn he would be held to his oath, but it would be many years before he would be allowed back into his homeland.

He staggered slowly forward taking a path that animals have worn on their travels through the woods. This trail ended up at a stream, which he planned on using to wash the blood, which covered body. Blood from his ears had run down his neck, his head throbbed, and his vision was so blurred he was traveling more by memory than sight.

He had tracked the Titan for some time, however still new to the land, was surprised by the sheer power and aggressive attacks of the brute. It beat down upon him with a enormous sword, while its free hand weave magic spells, balls of flame set upon his body, and with strikes that fell trees on contact it set out on a rampage of destruction.

His strategy was methodical and well executed. He used his whistle to call the Titan, and enrage it beyond reason. With this he was able to isolate his foe, and get it to provide a better target for his deadly bow. One thing he did not count on was running out of arrows, and while pausing to recover a fallen arrow, he was hammered by the beast. It was a sacrifice to allow him for the final blow, striking the beast in the eye that sent the Titan collapsing to the forest floor at the cost was nearly having his head cleaved from his shoulders.

As he dragged on he could sense he was near water, the world was spinning around him, silent yet deafening, the stream played out a few yards ahead. His bow dragged in the dirt behind him as he shuffled forward; it seemed so heavy, yet he refused to let it go. At last his body could no longer support itself and in a heap he crumbled to the ground.

The sun had begun its decent. He vision was slowly returning. He saw a woman emerging from the stream, he hair golden like honey caught the last rays of the sun, dressed in a white cotton robe she floated over to him. Her green almond shaped eyes, dazzled as she smiled.

“Questanathalas….” She spoke his name so delicately as though it carried upon the breeze.

“Questanathalas” She spoke again drawing near, her hand reached for his

Summoning his last bit of strength he slowly raised his hand to hers, His breathe chocked as blood entered his lungs. He tried to speak, but the words would not leave his mind. She started drifting backwards towards the stream, he shot his hand forward trying to catch her, but he had not the strength. Slowly she returned to the water, her face etched with both beauty and sorrow as she faded from his sight.

He rolled over to his back staring up at the sky closed his eyes. He waited for the time, which would come, when his spirit would leave his body and join those of his ancestors. His oath would go unfulfilled. There would be no justice.

A large form grew across his prone body, the Titan had recovered and found him lying helpless beside the stream. The brute stood over him studying its prey, preparing for its killing blow.

“Leha Qua Istlae” He spoke in elvish, meaning “To the end”, he felt to his side, though he had little sensation in is fingers he felt a failure shape in his hand. He removed tiny obsidian dagger from its scabbard, so weak from his wounds it took two hands to hold it. To many it looked like it would be somewhat effective against a large squirrel, but to those with the proper knowledge of Elvin lore would know it was treated with a fatal Elvin poison, capable of killing a man in seconds. He thrust its point towards his enemy.

A Titans hand came down quickly and knocked the dagger from his grasp. The Titan placed one hand across his forehead, and the other to the side of his neck. The elf tried to push it way but it was too strong, he flinched waiting for the inevitable snapping of his neck.

“In Vas Mani” The Titan spoke and a soft blue glow flowed from his hands

---

The elf returned the whistle to his pouch. It has been exactly a year since that day in the woods. A day he will never forget. If it had not been for the healing powers of the man he would never have survived. The candles burned low as night had set in. Soon the tavern would be closed. He had been there for several songs of drunken fools, it was obvious some thing had happened to his friend, he would have to try to track him down elsewhere.

The elf approached the Tavern Keeper “If you see him, can you deliver a message?”

“Well that shouldn’t be hard, its not every day you see a man with a stone arm, let alone nearly 7 feet tall…well what is your message then?” the man asked, eager to get the elf out of his tavern.

“Let him know Questanathals was here to meet him” the elf replied

“Quest…err yes, no problem” the barkeep turned his back to the elf “good day sir”

The elf left the tavern, pretending not to notice those leering in his direction. Entering the embrace of the night he removed his hood, and gazed up at the stars.

Softly he spoke “Leha Qua Istlae”.