With a heavy heart I resign my position as your high queen of the elven kingdom. I leave my brother as regent until my heir or heirs come of age to compete in trials only known by the high noble houses. I wish the best for our people. As our children decide our fates as we can decide theirs.

  Excerpt for the Final Royal Announcement of the 29th high queen.

  “El, come on, mother actually wants you home for supper,” Libtala called out to her brother.

  Her brother, Elmond, was covered in sweat from the long days. His shirt clung to him as if he went for a swim in the middle of the day. Knowing her brother she honestly hoped he did. His muscled forearms stopped midswing as he gently set the blade of the scythe down and proceeded to lean on it.

  “First, you know I hate it when you call me that,” he started. “Second, winter is coming. Frost will be here before we know it. I can’t stop.”

  Libtala rolled her eyes. “It is just one night, brother. One night won’t cause us to starve. We have plenty of flour, and the calves are old enough to not be suckling their mother’s teet.” she sighed. “As for our mother. She has been working hard for you all day. So stop being like a stubborn newborn babe and get your ass into the house before I take you by the ear like a damn child.”

  Now it was Elmond’s turn to roll his eyes and sigh. “Fine, one plate. I want to get this field done by dark,” he said, holding up a singular finger.

  Libtala had already turned to walk back the way she came. She turned back for a moment to see the work he still had to do. Having a feeling that it likely wasn’t going to happen.

  She gave him a slight smirk. Her brother did irritate her most of the time as many siblings do, but she felt the weight he stoically held on his shoulders. She was young when their father died. Like her brother, he was a person of few words. The stoicism he left behind latched itself to the once joyful and vibrant child he once was making him cynical towards others.

  “Do you know what day it is?” she asked, trying to make light conversation.

  She did have a feeling that he didn’t when the sounds of crockery and utensils whispered in the wind.

  Libtala slightly grinded at the non verbal confirmation. She knew it was important for him to be home for dinner, and why it was a big ordeal for him to be there. It was his birthday.

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  Elmond could smell something strange from the small hovel they called home. It was a familiar smell yet foreign. It couldn’t be placed. He knew the aroma of herbs and spices.

  “Who is in the house?” Elmond asked, gripping his sister’s shoulder.

  “Other than our mother. No one that I am aware of.”

  “Stay here,” he said, moving closer to the house

  Starting to hold the scythe as a weapon instead of the farming implant it was.

  “Thank you so much Dala,” he heard his mother say.

  “Not a problem Gorma,” commented a voice that sounded like one of the young women from the village. “It is hard to believe that you’ve cooked meat. I’ve seen you and Libtala get meat from the market a bunch of times on my occasional errands.”

  “They were cured or some kind of jerky, mostly. Given my beliefs generally speaking, it is considered a sin to wear or in this case eat the meat of an animal with the exception of something like sheep's fur or the like.”

  “That seems strange to me, but I understand. Why start now tho?” Dala asked.

  “Well, you at least know of my son if you don’t know him,”

  He could hear the flustered tone in her voice. “I don't know what you mean.”

  “Mother stop teasing the poor lass,” Elmond said, opening the door to make himself seen. “You may be more approachable than your children, but she doesn’t realize that it is a jest.”

  Dala, surprised by Ellomnd’s appearance, turned to face him. “Oh,... hello Elmond,” she greeted.

  He nodded to her as a greeting giving her a slight if almost unnoticeable by most. “Now I am curious. Especially that Dala is here teaching you. What are you cooking, mother?”

  “Just some steaks,” Libtala says, poking her head in the still open doorway.

  Now it was Elmond’s turn to be surprised. In the years he had been alive he didn’t believe he had steak. At least in the most recent years he was sure of that. He mainly relied on cured meats and jerkies as they were already cooked and less prone to spoilage while in storage. He also knew it was against his mother’s beliefs to eat or use anything of something that one had a face. With the exception of wool because they didn’t need to kill the sheep to get it. The fact that she was at least bending the rules of belief was a shock to him as it was to Libtala when she heard it and asked Dala to help.

  “What is the occasion?” Elmond asked.

  “It’s your birthday,” Gorma explained like it was obvious.

  Elmond just sighed and shook his head. He knew the significance of birthdays in the local culture and his mother had adopted the sentiment. Elmond on the other hand did not enjoy the sentiment. Given he made it a point to make sure that they had enough firewood, food, and other supplies to survive the winter he saw it as a waste of time to nonsensical annotation to a point in time of the year.

  “Mother, you know how I feel about the arbitrary celebrations of someone’s birth,” he commented as politely as he could make it.

  “I do,” Gorma said with a smile. “Since I am the one who gave you life you will need to suffer at least a little bit by spending time with your mother.”

  “Some things never change,” he commented with a sigh, setting the sythe down to go wash up for supper.”