An Elven Blessing

Before the altar I knelt and poured an elf's blood. It had curdled from sitting in the vial too long, so I had to tap the back of it. 

The priest walked to the altar quickly, showing no emotion. He hovered over the altar and prayed a blessing or a curse. I could not say. It was his secret prayer. I saw his lips move, nothing more. And the stone temple, full of dancing light from torches in their sconces, still felt cold.

It was a blessing. The elf's blood bubbled and a small flower bloomed in the center. I didn't know the purpose of these rituals. I was simply an acolyte in my roughspun tunic, trying to remain unmoving, kneeling on bruised knees.

The priest plucked it from the small blood puddle and inspected it's gold petals, it's silver bud, it's delicate green stem, and his eyes looked greedy. He nodded at me dismissively, and I walked to the acolyte's quarters as quickly as possible. But something about his eyes had made me curious. So I hastened to the priest's quarters, peeped through the cracks in the door, and watched as the priest carried the flower into the sacristy. 

Two other priests were already sitting there in wooden chairs on wooden wheels. They looked old beyond belief. I saw them talk and then chant softly. I did not recognize the language. But the chanting was rhythmic, like counting. 

Then the priest held the flower high above his head, and the other priests gazed at it. The flower twisted and undulated. It vibrated like a plucked lyre string. And before my eyes it transformed into a beautiful baby. The petals became its appendages, the bud and stem its head and torso. And then I watched in horror as the priest put it on a table next to a bucket of saws and sharp knives. The baby did not cry but I saw its precious legs move about like a newborn's. The priest started to rummage through the bucket of objects, and I didn't have to use my imagination to foresee their plan. 

So I burst through the door and snatched the baby from the table. The priests were old and only the priest who had brought the flower inside was fast enough to force me to sprint. But even so I escaped the temple and ran as fast as I could to the nearest house. When I was sure I had lost the priest, I knocked on doors until a fat man opened up. He took one look at the baby and my worried face and let me into the house. 

"I'm being followed," I said. I tried to give him the baby, but he shook his head and put a hand on my shoulder. 

"Slow down," he said. "What's going on?"

"The priests at Temple Olios want to harm this child. They had him on a table and I saw one grab a knife to kill it." I figured explaining much else would only cause confusion.

The fat man looked at the baby and noted its pointy ears. "An elven baby," he said. "Well I suppose the baby should go to the elves then."

"Yes but they're all the way in Terillia."

"Well maybe you could get a horse from..." he took a look at my shoddy tunic and probably assumed correctly that I had no money, but I helped him out and said, "I have no money."

"I see," he said. "I can hide him here tonight. Maybe we can find... Does he need to eat? Oh he's shivering, here's a blanket. I'll go get some milk and see if he drinks that. Do elven babies need milk?" 

"No, I don't," said the baby. He had a deep, melodious voice.

I nearly dropped it, but hastily set it on the dining room table instead. The fat man yelled and I stood there watching the baby. My heart was racing. 

"I need you to bring me back to the temple," said the baby. He had tilted his head up hilariously to look at us while he spoke. "My deaths are part of the arrangement."

"What arrangement?"

"He's talking!" said the fat man. I shushed him.

The baby sighed. "If I were to explain this, I would need to wipe your memory of this conversation. Only the priests may know."

"I don't want any part of this," squeaked the fat man.  

"You'll stay," I said, surprised at my own assertiveness. 

"When men discovered that elves possessed immortality," the baby continued, "And that they could gain immortality themselves by eating our flesh and drinking our blood every day, they did horrible things to us, unimaginable things." 

"No," I said. "Your people were given fair lands and treatment. The priests told m—"

"The priests?" the baby finished, grinning hideously. "And you're an acolyte training for the priesthood?" he paused. "I can't imagine why the priests would push that narrative. Terillia is not a fair and beautiful land by the way. It's barely livable, but it is livable."

The fat man did not interject, though I could tell by his stunned face that his worldview was shattered. 

"But we accept this narrative and allow it," the baby continued, "because it helps. Because of my sacrifice, my people and the rulers and priests have reached an agreement. I, the first elf, have regenerative abilities, so I passed on my magic to the priests in your temples. I let them birth me—and only me—so that my people might live. The priests and rulers of this world eat my flesh and drink my blood every day. I let them do horrible things to me so that my people may enjoy what little they can of what little is left."

"That's horrific," I said. 

"Is there anything we can do?" asked the fat man timidly, clearly hoping for the answer "no".

"No," said the first elf. "You will take me back at once and either pretend this conversation never happened, or I will be forced to wipe your memories. Do not play the hero. My people are too weak, we've suffered too much, and we will not suffer more at the hands of stupid men like you trying to make a difference."

The next morning, I snatched the sleeping baby, who had grown a foot longer overnight, and quietly left the house. The fat man had given me some money and I was going to the stable to buy a horse for the journey. But the elf opened his eyes and waved a hand in front of my face while he whispered. 

Before the altar I knelt and poured an elf's blood. It had curdled from sitting in the vial too long, so I had to tap the back of it.