Warnings: Depressing, extreme violence, minority repression, terrible editing.
The Fallen
Falling…
The war was over, the elves had lost. Two of the only known elves stood on a stand guards surrounding one. The other knelt before the executioner he turned back to where his sister called for him tears filling her eyes.
“Chonic…” she cried. Chonic gave her a reassuring smile.
“Shh. Faylle,” was all the elf said, he glanced away from his sister and caught sight of a figure in the window above before it moved from view. Chonic’s gaze lingering for a few moments before he turned abruptly to look steadfastly out into the now setting sun.
Chonic felt the cold steel of a sword touch his neck as the court yard burst into extravagant colors of red and yellow. Faylle sobbed behind him as the sword lifted off his neck and came down with a….
Whap? Chonic opened his eyes to see his sister’s shoe lying by the now unconscious executioner.
“Chonic!” The elf dove for the contract killer’s dropped sword. He felt his hand wrap around the steel of the hilt and he spun before one of the guards cut him in half. Chonic pushed up causing the guard to stumble back, making him open for a killing blow.
Chonic stepped over the body and ran to help his sister, who was actually having no problem handling her guard.
“Don’t worry about me Chonic!” She yelled. “Go!” The elf came to a stop as he was about to protest, but one look from his sister’s eyes told him, no arguing.
“Thank you, Faylle,” he said as he dashed past the guard and into the door that lead into the tall malevolent castle.
***
Chonic heard his feet echo in the hallway as he entered the second floor of the castle. He went over to the room where he had seen the figure and opened the door with a creak. The sun was almost below the mountains now creating a soft color that would have made anyone feel warm and comfortable. Chonic, however, did not feel warm or comfortable. To him these colors meant death in every possible. The death of his people, the death of the land, the death of his twin…
He treaded softly onto the red blood carpet. The door slammed behind him, he spun and came face to face with a figure in black robes. The figure stood looking at the elf his dark eyes twinkling from under the hood.
“Hello, Chonic,” he said in a whisper that carried throughout the darkening room. Chonic’s sword was up and he was breathing heavily, this person caused a deep unreasonable horror deep within his heart.
“Who are you?” he asked in a shaky voice. The figure stepped closer.
“Don’t you remember me?” asked the figure slowly he drew his hood back showing flowing golden hair that crawled beautifully down past his shoulders, familiar dark eyes pierced into Chonic’s whole being. The elf took a blinding step back and almost collapsed with shock. His sword dropped to the ground with a clang that echoed through the room.
“Elessar…?” The other man smiled slightly at Chonic’s discomfort. “No, that’s impossible, I saw you fall…”
“You saw what I wanted you to see Chonic,” said Elessar taking out his own sword. Chonic’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing?” he asked taking a panicked step back, the back of his legs hitting the only furniture in the room, a blood red bed.
“I hate you Chonic,” Elessar whispered his voice dripping with loathing. “Kind, gentle, Chonic, loved by everyone, family, strangers… even enemies.” He raised his sword to the elf’s chest. The sword shaking with barely suppressed hatred. “You’re lucky, you’ll be able to see your sister die before you do.”
Chonic’s head snapped up as he heard a scream from the court yard.
“Faylle!” he roared as he tried to run to the side of Elessar, but was stopped before he could get to the window and was forced onto the bed. The golden haired elf looked at Chonic insanely before he placed the sword on his stomach.
Suddenly he thrust it in through the elf clear down until the hilt touched Chonic’s stomach. Chonic cried out and grabbed the hilt, but it was buried so deep into his body and the bed that it was impossible to take out. Elessar almost gently took the elf’s shaking hands off the sword his own hands replacing them.
Smiling sadistically he twisted the sword causing Chonic to scream and thrash in the attempt to throw Elessar off, but soon the screams became whimpers as Chonic lost his energy. Elessar let the sword go and got off the elf. He went to the only glowing candle in the now very dark room. He picked it up and began walking to the door before stopping at another whimper of pain from the dark haired elf.
“Elessar….” Chonic pleaded in a way that asked ‘why’. Elessar turned and blew out the candle plunging the room into the grip of night.
“Goodnight, my twin.”
Forever falling… falling…
