Ralph and the Pixie

‘I’ve always heard that they hate us!’

‘Nay, say rather that they hate what we’ve become, for in one way at least they are wiser than we, and justified in their anger: they didn’t try to bend the natural world to suit their own selfish desires, at the expense of all else.’

Haloch could see unpleasantly revelatory thoughts moving like storm clouds behind Mraan’s unfocused gaze as he mulled this over.

‘Then . . . the Library . . . the City of Nith itself . . .’

‘Is it the embodiment of a crime against Nature.’

Mraan’s eyes widened as this, and then another realization set in. ‘How are we related to the other Faerie folk?’

Haloch nodded, his face a smile that was not a smile. ‘Let me explain it to you in this fashion: until the first Men came in contact with the Faerie Folk, there were no Elves.’

‘No Elves!’ Mraan breathed, slowing his step, trying to fathom the meaning of this statement. Their eyes locked, and for a brief moment, as realization set in, Mraan appeared as old and tired as his father. But the moment passed, and he smiled as his youthful optimism washed the gloom away, like blood from a wound carried away by the cold and exhilarating waters of a fast-running stream. ‘Well, at least none of our ancestors were trolls.’