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Someone was in Eöl's woods.
He could feel it in the stirring air, soft hoofs upsetting the stillness of his home. Puffs of breath echoed across the silence, shaking the usually silent leaves, rustling and carrying a message of movement where there should be none.
He could feel it in the ground, the roots and foliage trampled by foreign steps, grass bent in odd directions. Disturbed twigs spoke to him of snagged branches and microscopic tears in fine robes not of his make.
He could feel it in the trees who were aware of unfamiliar eyes watching them, strange hands brushing their leaves and thoughts not their own disturbing the twilight.
It was like an itch, a soft tapping in his brain.
Someone was in Eöl's woods who should not be there.
He was ill pleased.
Sighing he set down his hammer on the anvil and put away the sword he had been working on. He couldn't focus like this; the forest was upset – and so was he. There was no use in trying to continue with his equilibrium disturbed like this. The sword he was shaping was half done and he had just begun working on hammering out the final shape. It would be a pain to pause now and resume later. But, he thought regretfully, this situation had to be resolved first.
Carefully he smothered the fire of his forge and stowed his equipment before pulling off the stained leather apron and gloves he used as forge wear.
Stepping out of his forge he took a moment to breathe. He shut his eyes and let the sensations of the forest wash over him. The hum of energy and life usually calmed his mind and recentered him. But now, as he attuned his senses to the trees and the vines, to the roots and the branches, the leaves and the air that hung still around him .... he continued to feel disturbed, just as his forest was disturbed by the steps of that cursed intruder.
Disgruntled Eöl focused on the present. His mood now thoroughly soured, he started walking in the direction of the disturbance. Eöl sunk into the shadows of the trees, walking with them as his mind listened to their music.
Time to find out what the stranger wanted and why the trees hadn't managed to direct them out of the forest yet.
It was thus that he found the elf.
They were short and slight, with a slender frame and dark brown hair that flowed elegantly past their shoulders in intricate braids. Their clothing was noble yet strange, though it was travel worn, and they were riding a tall white horse, muttering to themselves too low for Eöl to pick up.
Abruptly, Eöl came to a halt, still within the shadows of his trees. He was stunned. He felt as though struck by something heavy, as a heady, foreign and yet not entirely unwelcome feeling started swelling within him.
The elf was beautiful.
He shook himself. He would not fall for so cheap a trick.
And so Eöl sang to the trees of ways to the light and paths both true and false that lead away, far away, into the plains of the land across the river, where the accursed Golodhrim had made their home. The trees rustled about him and guided the stranger ever away from the heart of the forest and towards its edge.
And yet. The elf seemed strangely resistant to his song. They would stop and mutter, then twist their horse around to continue in a different direction, deeper and ever deeper into the forest whenever Eöl got close to having them out.
What a bothersome, persistent pest.
Anger rose in Eöl, he felt it blossom in his chest. What an insolent creature!
Fine. He would confront the elf then.
Changing tactics, Eöl sang of guidance, of clearing the way, of leading with deception – and the trees, harkening to his song, gave way to create a clearing wherein he stood, yet veiled by the shadows of his trees, awaiting his guest.
As the elf arrived, Eöl noticed several things. Their build had made him assume his guest to be an elleth but the elf emerging into his sight was clearly male.
For a moment, Eöl froze. The ellon was breathtaking.
Up front Eöl could see his dark grey eyes, bronze skin and refined, elegant features which were set into a fierce scowl. His hands, graceful and adorned with rings of fine smithing, were gripping the saddle tightly before he swung off the back of his horse in one fluid, dazzling motion.
The elf’s form held hidden strength twined with a subtle elegance, his posture speaking of pride – pride that nurtured itself on its owner’s own perceived superiority. His eyes were cold, and yet they hid a fire that burned hotter than any Eöl had yet come across.
He felt his pulse rise, drawn in by the enchanting, dangerous beauty the elf emitted effortlessly. The vines on the trees at the edge of his clearing curled tighter and tighter around the trunks, mirroring what his hands longed to do as they ached to curl into fists at his side, longed to reach out to strangle, no, ensnare, no – his thoughts were whirling in a conflicted mess.
Eöl observed as the stranger tied off his horse and then turned back around. It was thus that he caught sight of his guest’s piercing eyes once more.
Looking more closely, he noticed they shone with an eerie glow, like someone had lit a torch behind his lids. It was uncanny.
Eöl felt his mood sour further, a shudder running up his spine. A Golodh then. Land stealers and murderers. Prideful and haughty.
He felt fire flowing through his veins and for a moment, he desired little more than to put his sword, strapped to his side as always, through the stranger's chest ere he could open his mouth to taint the air with his vile language and undoubtedly even viler words.
But Eöl was a patient elf.
And he was not prone to rash acting. He closed his eyes for a split second and, as he reopened them, he spoke with confidence. He would not be cowered in his own forest, least of all by an arrogant elf come into his home uninvited.
"Who are you and what business do you have in my forest? I do not suffer the Golodhrim to come here! State your business or be gone."
He let himself be perceived fully, as he stepped out of the shadowy embrace of his trees.
"I do not remember giving you leave to dwell in the woods of my lands either. Neither do I need to explain my business or my presence in these parts that are of my own realm," the elf sniffed, pride etched into his features and disdain dripping off his words as he spoke. Eöl felt his mood darken further, rage kindled in his breast. The trees creaked. The wind howled. Fire coursed through his veins. Hot, hot, melting him, burning him, pulling him onwards, forwards.
But Eöl was a patient elf.
He examined the Golodh. Stern were his eyes and yet there was something in them. A flicker of doubt. His hands were stiff, held at his side without so much as a twitch. Too perfect, like a studied pose to conceal any movement giving away intent. He was nervous.
His face looked flushed; his cheeks darkened in what was undoubtedly an involuntary reaction.
Eöl felt his own blood rushing through his veins more quickly in response. Detestable though his attitude may be; the elf was beautiful.
And he was alone.
Alone with Eöl.
He bit back a smile.
Eöl was a patient elf, and he was the master of these woods. And when he wanted something, he got it.
And want he did. Too many things at once to count.
To break down this ellon's pride. To make him submit, teach him his place. To take him into his house as one subordinate and subservient as he should be. And perhaps, he thought, roving his eyes over the graceful form of the scowling Golodh, something more.
He had meant to turn the stranger out, but now a different plan took shape in his head.
"The insolence of the Golodhrim knows no bounds," he answered the stranger, staring into his eyes and weaving forgetfulness around him.
"Your lands, you have proclaimed them. And yet I do not recall having shared them with one such as you. But we shall see. Come with me and perhaps we shall come to an... arrangement," he continued, and finally let the smile that had been caught behind his teeth out as he invited the stranger along.
The music of the trees became louder and louder in his mind as they followed his lead and opened the path back to his home.
All other paths were shut.