"We reached into that dread darkness, hoping for the reward of enlightenment for our bravery. But upon withdrawing our hand, we found none other than yourself, and shame, clutched in our ungentle grasp."
Rhia said nothing as she stood listening to him, but left off the rail and moved closer as he spoke, as though to indicate that she neither blamed himself nor his people, nor felt now inclined to distance herself.
"Is it true," he asked in a tone of voice that caused her to raise her eyes to his own, "that you are indeed a witch?"
Rhia nodded with the solemn confidence of the young novice who is asked respectfully about the nature of her work.
"May I ask as to the nature of your magic? Many are curious," he gave her a wry, humourous look, to indicate to her that he was not being serious, "having never heard of such a thing as an elven witch. If those with the loosest and most active tongues are to be believed, your true appearance is more alike to that of a goblin!"
She made a disparaging face at this, prompting a chuckle from him. Then, with a sigh and a rustle of her light dress, she leaned far over the bannister, balanced, though not too precariously, so that her bare feet were off the ground. The bright sun was high and hot and yellow, and as she peered through the hot, hazy, thistledown-limned day towards the distant ocean, remembering. The sparkles upon the ocean's surface were clear and unmistakeable, though the sea itself was little more than a blue-grey guess on the horizon merging seamlessly with smoke-blue clouds that lay at the far edge of sight. At last, she spoke.