Write It Poetry
Write It Home
Chat With Fellow Writers
Publish Your Work
Read Novel
The Elves
By Matt F.
age: 14


“Hurry or we’ll be late and you know it. We can’t be late for the arrival of Lantogas,” said my best friend, Lento Yungit. My name is Matento Frium. I had a brother too, but he was forced to the battle at Moris Ruin. We were the youngest elves in the whole clan. We were in the Turtle Clan of Günter Turret. Günter Turret is on the outer rim of the Turtle Clan land. We are on the planet called Regetium.

“Idiot, I’m coming and you know I can’t forget my lucky bow!” I yelled.

“It’s not yours and it’s not lucky and you know it,” Lento said harshly. ” It’s your idiotic brother’s.”

I drew my dagger and put it up to his neck. “Don’t you ever talk about my brother that way!”

“You and I both know he died in honor.”

“Well what boy should have to help bury his own brother?!” I quoted from my dad. He left two weeks after Jaraton, my brother, died. I believe he died on his way to a city called Roan. I only think that because he said he would write me every day, but he hasn’t written for 10 months. His last seed said he was halfway there and couldn’t wait any longer.

“Good point,” said his brother Heritan.

“So he comes only when we least expect it, doesn’t he?” I said.“Come on you knuckle heads we have to go.”

Heritan was a gentle giant and was never seen by the public angry. He usually took out his anger when he was training for battle or over at the pubs while fighting some goons that are stupid enough to challenge him.

“Ok you two I guess I’m ready for the event.”

“Bout time!” said Lento. He was usually letting me joke around, but today was different.

“We should hurry or we will be late,” said Heritan. Heritan was a main commander in the Scout Service of the Turtle Clan and United Nations of the Elves or the SST, CUNE. He was a good warrior and took us two losers under his wing a lot. He trained Lento to be a wonderful swordsman and me to be a wonderful marksman.

“So what might we see Hert?” I asked. We all shorten our names so it’s easier.

“Same as last year probably.” He only said that to annoy me since I hated last year’s performance because they decided to bury my brother that day.

“At least they’re not burying you!” I said.

“Thanks. Hey, there’s the entry gate.”

“Hey maybe well find you a girl there,” said Lento.

I was quick to punch him in the face. Then Heritan separated us under his arms. Like I said, under his wing.


“Wow, this year the park has really been lit up,” I said.

“Well what do you expect?” said Lento and turned to his brother. “Hasn’t it always been the same way ever since Junop the Red Hearted took over?”

Heritan just nodded and looked at the area.“I can’t believe I’ve made it out here. You know, out of the battle at Moris Ruin.”

“Well not many can believe they made it out alive, too Hert,” I said, holding back the tears and clenching the bow tight. After all, it was the only thing I had to remember him by.

We walked over to the refreshment tent. They were serving my favorite Root Beer, The Best of Yonks River.

“That’ll be 1 septum,” said the Bartender.

“Ya, Ya, here,” I said.

“Don’t be so rude Matento,” said Heritan.

“Just call me Ment, like you do in training.”

“Well then call me Lento like usual.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey you two, look, its Niller Bouar the musician.”

“What’s he playing?” I asked.

“Your favorite. 'Shades of Gray!'” It truly was my favorite. I had to go and listen.

After that, we headed over to a shop where a man was selling some weapons and armor. Hert had to check it out. I looked at the stuff. Hert made sure we didn’t touch anything. He saw a cool new blade.

“That’s the first of its kind that is,” whispered the seller.

“Oh…we’re only looking,” I said.

“Not with the deal I am about to give to ye.”

“There is no deal you can make to-”

“There is a chest outside the city of Holder Turret. It has most of my finances in it. If ye bring it to me by the 27th of da the month, I will give ye the Sword of Franken the II of Hordinshire.”

“Well you two, get ready. We are leaving for Holger Turret at dusk.”

“Why should we leave at dusk?” I asked. “You know there are still assassins at this time of year,” I whispered as we started to leave the tent.

“I am not afraid of them,” he declared. “And besides,” Lento whispered, “we joined the House Zeasin’s Assassins Party.”

“Idiot I told you not to tell him!” Hert whispered.

That sent chills down my spine. They were the rivals of the Great House Haaluu. They were specially trained assassins that stalked the forests looking to kill some unready traveler, but occasionally each other. They were quick and always left their mark where they had been. They were bad people. They are probably the ones who killed my dad and other travelers.

As we left, I saw a girl I knew from around town. I really wasn’t expecting her to be at something like this, especially since she was from the Northlands near the slave country.

* * *

We stopped by my house at around 2:30, there was a few letters in the mailbox. One was a junk mail letter from the city saying that they have dropped their prices on property in the west part of town. The other was surprisingly, a letter from my dad. It read:

Dear Matento,

I have gotten only 24 miles from the capital city. I am sorry that I haven’t written to you for a wile, I got ambushed by assassins. They hurt my writing hand so I couldn’t write for a wile. I ended up killing four of them and injuring at least three. I am sorry, but I must cut my letter short. I want to get some rest. I will see you in a few more months.

Your Dear Father,

Gooner Fruim, The Leader of the Ziashen


Wow! That lifted my sprits to hear he is still alive.

“Hey, Matento we're all ready. What’s taking you so long?!” said Lento.

“It's my dad.”

“What do you mean your dad, I thought he was-” I heard a thunk. It was probably Heritan hitting him hard in the head.

“No… I got a letter from him. He didn’t date it though. By the looks of it, I think it’s only a few weeks old. Maybe Mintorick the 21st*.”*=Monday

There was a long silence, surprisingly.

“Well are you going to let us see it?” Heritan said aloud.

“Oh, ya, here.”

* * *

We were on our way out of the city when Lento said, “Ya know, Ment, you should probably stay here and wait for your dad.”

“No, we’ll be back by then, this will only take a few days, maybe a week,” I said.

“Well, what if he gets another letter, or gets information that his dad is dead?” Lento said pretty loudly.

“It can wait. If he’s dead, then I will find out when I get back, simple as that.”

“I guess we should go and see how much food Untembengen’s have at the shop for us,” said Hert.

“Hey where you guys goin’?”

It was my good friend Stegen Hemming, his dad owns Hemming’s Horses. We went to school together and I was the first friend he made, we were very close. I am sure if we had a choice we would die friends.

“How are you Steg?” I asked.

“Not too bad. I just want to know if you guys need a little help getting where you need to go?”

“We’re heading out to Holder,” said Lento.

“Well you want some help ‘der eh’” he said, laughing as he ended. We had a joke “I know a real quick way around to there if you want me to help you.”
“Well, we always could use some help guys,” I said.
“Well, I think I can give you guys a little discount because you guys are so friendly and opened up with good hearts. How many horses do you guys need?”

“Including you?”

“No, I ride for free.”

“Then we’ll need four.”

“OK, I’ll have to ride to the stables and you guys stay here.”

There was a long silence before anyone said anything.

“We got to go to Untembengen’s for some food, we’ll meet you at City Hall in about half an hour,” said Hert.

“Ok, thanks. I’ll see you there.”

* * *

We finally had enough food and at a good price. It costed us 33 septums just for seven days of food for five people. We heard the clopping of horse hooves and we knew who it was. We only hear the sound when someone rich is coming to town or when it’s a horse from the Hemming’s.

Chapter 4:

“Ready to go?” I asked as he came up with the horses.

“Yep, here’s the lads,” he said. Then he started to look like he was thinking.

“Oh, here’s the money Steg. What are you thinking about?” Hert said.

“Nothing. Well… Why are we going to Holger Turret any way?”

To Be Continued…

Poetry    Essay    Memoir
Short Fiction    Humor     Novel Dramatic Script    Journalism    
Science Fiction/Fantasy