The Beauty of the East

26th of Solae, 1485
 
I am writing this in one of the most beautiful and peaceful places I have ever been. Grimaldus is sleeping beside me as I write. I am very happy that we were able to steal this night away, when it very well may be our last. I am aware that I have written that many times over these past few months, the past year, really. But it doesn’t change that I honestly do not see how any of us are going to come out of this alive…
 
These ruins are a beautiful place… they prompt many thoughts and feelings that I haven’t felt in some time… I feel at peace in this place… as if the nature and the ruins welcome me here.. But, rather than go too far down this path now, I suppose I should write about how I came here on this night…
 
When we had made camp, I was preparing to cast my nightly ritual to protect the camp, but Meriwald flew over and insisted that he could do it himself. So, he did. I guess he must have learned it in the recent weeks, because I haven’t seen him cast it before. The spell went off, and he strutted around, wanted everyone to see his “Teeny Hut” or “Mini Hut”, he couldn’t decide which.
 
Grimaldus was sitting next to me, and he leaned back, saying. “I grow tired of this place.”
“You do?” I was actually surprised, he seemed to be pretty pleased ever since we left the continent. “I’ve been tired of this place ever since I showed up…”
“Because you haven’t seen what this place actually has to offer…” he said quietly.
“This place?”
“The east.” He explained. “We’ve gone from shithole to shithole. And that’s saying something, because I’ve lived in some shitholes.”
“So… what do you mean, I haven’t seen what the east has to offer?” I wondered what he was talking about, because he’s been talking about what the east has to offer ever since we were traveling in Latria…
 
“There is a place far to the east, at the edge of the desert. The ruins of a kingdom so old it no longer has a name. Untouched by corruption.”
“Why have you not told me of this before?” I asked quietly. “Why did we not go there?”
“Then why don’t we?” He offered.
I looked out across our camp towards the cursed city in the distance. “We’re about to walk into a shithole.”
“We have eight hours.” Grimaldus pointed out.
 
I pulled out the intricate mirror that I’d acquired in trade from Gaius of Astoria. Setting it down, I scried on the location that Grimaldus described.
 
When I gazed into the mirror, the image coalesced into a sunset setting a blue mountain range aglow in hues of red and orange. A river flowed down from the mountains into a valley of sorts. Willow trees draped over the banks of streams, and birch trees formed peaceful groves in the evening light. It was truly breathtaking.
 
“Do you think we can go?” I asked, trying to keep the wonder out of my voice.
“Let’s go.” Grimaldus said. “You can teleport, can you not?”
“Yes…” I admitted. “I’ve just never teleported to somewhere I’ve never been…”
“Have you ever seen a wall that’s made of pure porcelain rock?” He prompted. “That glows blue in the sunlight?”
That was all the coaxing that I needed to hear. “Ok.”
 
I called to Meriwald, telling him that I would be back by the morning. I bade him to keep the rest of the party safe until I returned.
 
I cast teleport. I think I heard Dekar make a sarcastic quip about me telling Meriwald to protect them… but I ignored it. It’s not like Dekar can cast a spell to protect the entire camp for the night anyways…
 
That was surprisingly, the most calm teleportation spell that I have ever cast…
 
I found myself standing in an ancient ruin, the blue stone covered in overgrown moss and lichen. Everything was lit in hues of indigo and orange. The white trunks of the birch groves appeared to nearly glow with the reflected light. Streams wove through the ruins and groves, connecting with the river and then splitting off again to follow meandering paths through the sloping terrain.
 
As I looked out across the horizon, I could see the sands of the desert begin, its borders mingling with the green of the trees and the blue of the ruins and the mountainous backdrop. The sun was setting behind the dunes. It was truly one of the most beautiful sights that I’ve ever seen in my century and a half of life… the shifting sands, the trees, the mountains, and the porcelain ruins all in one place.
 
When I finally found my voice, I spoke. “I have never seen anything like it.”
“This is the east that I spoke of.” Grimaldus said quietly as he stood behind me. “I come here to remind myself how small I am in the grand scheme of things.”
“Really?” The beauty of this place left me breathless.
I could feel him nod at my back. “We go from battle to battle, from site to site, from world ending event to world ending event… it is nice to have no responsibilities.”
“Yes…” I agreed.
“This desert is over five thousand years old…”he began.
“The same age as Filandrel.” It took me a moment to realize what I had just said. “Sorry.” Dammit Inara, really?
“You’re fine.” At least Grimaldus brushed it off as if I hadn’t brought it up.
“This is beautiful…”I said.
“That desert will never look the same come tomorrow.” Grimaldus explained.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the dunes…” he motioned out over the sands. “The wind will come in the morning and it will never look like that again.”
“Hm. I guess I’d never thought about it like that.” And it struck me that I hadn’t. I’ve never looked out at a similar sight and felt like I would never see it again, unless I wasn’t alive for it, that is. But he is right, the world is ever changing. As much as my people so often like to hold onto the past, and keep everything the way it always has been… we cannot… and it is often difficult for many Elves to come to grips with that truth.
 
“We could get killed tomorrow…” he began.
“We could.” I agreed. “We likely will…”
“You don’t have to.” Grimaldus said suddenly. “The same way we came here, you could get out.”
“I could…” I admitted.
“You should.” He insisted.
“Why?”
“Because, you are how old?”
“One hundred fifty three.” I answered.
“How old is your… what is he to you? Father… father figure?”
“My actual father is about six hundred.” Grimaldus had never inquired about my parents before.
“And Filandrel is how old?”
“At least five thousand… I haven’t really figured it out yet.” Now who was bringing up Filandrel? Maybe I wasn’t doing too bad with it after all…
 
“So you have at least 4700 years ahead of you…”
“Most of my people don’t live that long…” I was quick to explain.
“Why is that?” He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
“The world here… I don’t know…” How to describe what has been happening with my people in the past centuries, millennia, since we came over from the First World? “Magic is fading. My people are fading, slowing dying. There are less children born every year.”
“Why is that?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” I tried not to let despair seep into my heart at the thought.
 
“You have the opportunity to live long enough to change that.” Grimaldus said confidently, with conviction. “That is something your friend Dekar does not understand… but I admire his courage and his, hope. But, at the end of the day, he is still young… Every god that came before thought that he could do the same thing. They cannot… he will likely obtain his goal, he is capable of it. But what he does not understand is that when the next village needs to be slaughtered, he will not hear it, in the same way that the gods did not. They are not omnipotent. He gives them too much credit… it’s not that they don’t care, it’s that they know as much as he does. As I do. They’re just stronger…”
 
“But you…” he said, looking over to me, “can live long enough to actually affect change.”
 
“So you would see me leave all of you to die?…” I refused to believe that he was suggesting that of me.
 
“No.” Grimaldus replied quickly. “When we’re all dead, you leave. We’ll likely be dead by the time that happens. Let’s be honest here… Hasim… we probably won’t even see him die… he’ll go ahead and not come back, because that’s what he does, and he’s very good at it.” He paused, nodding as he continued. “And he is of the East… he will be happy dying that way.”
 
“What about you?” I asked.
“I am forty-three… in a profession where most people die in their twenties…” he said quietly. “Let’s be honest, I’m on borrowed time as it is…”
 
“So why don’t you leave?”
“I just did.” He stated simply, either not knowing, or choosing not to acknowledge, that I wasn’t referring to simply this night.
 
“Yes, but…” I started to say, but then stopped myself and shifted my thoughts. “Something I don’t understand, no matter how much time I’ve spent around humans… what is it that you leave behind when you’re gone? Everything that humans make just turns to ruins.” I motioned around at the ruins surrounding us. “Then they die and they fade from memory, and the only things that are left are the ruins.”
 
“That’s the beauty of it…” Grimaldus replied quietly. “Everything is more beautiful because it fades away. Because we’re mortal. I will not live for five thousand years to see any of this come around again. I will never be here, looking at this sight again.” He pointed out to the desert. “I will never have this moment with you again.”
 
“Oh.” I didn’t really know how to reply to that.
 
After a moment of silence, Grimaldus spoke again. “Why don’t you bring your people here?”
“What?” I was surprised.
“Survive this place.” He stated. “Bring your people here.”
“My people would love it here…” I breathed.
“Then bring them here.” Grimaldus was insistent.
“It’s more complicated than that…” I tried to explain.
 
“It doesn’t have to be. Sometimes the simplest answer is the best one.”
“Yes…” I began, but he continued as though I hadn’t spoken.
“And I would die happy, knowing that I left the memory of this place for your people to come to…”
 
“I would prefer you not to die at all.” I can barely believe that I admitted that aloud.
“It will happen inevitably anyway…” he began.
“I know.” I interrupted bitterly. “As I am constantly reminded.”
“So take advantage of the time we have. As I said, we will never be here again…”
 
As I looked up at him, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on my lips.
 
So now I write this, sitting amongst these beautiful ruins, looking out across the night, and thinking about the man beside me. He is right… his death is inevitable, and far sooner than my own… sometimes the thought of it overwhelms me, when I let myself stop and think for a time. Someday he will die. Grimaldus will be gone and the only thing that will remain will be my memories.
 
“Are you in love?” Ravlor asked me when last we spoke. I didn’t know how to reply then, and perhaps I still don’t… or I simply am trying not to admit it to myself, for if I am, indeed, in love with Grimaldus… what is to come of it? Is it truly worth it, or am I setting myself up for centuries of pain for a few brief years of happiness?
 
But, as I look at him sleeping peacefully next to me, his face relaxed in sleep, I find myself wanting to lay beside him, to feel his arms wrapped around me, the future and consequences be damned…