Act I, scene II

Tharnia

(The high windows of the throne-room look small compared to the willow-branch throne that dominates the room, the ERLKING looks distracted. A tall elf, HALEN, enters the room.)

ERLKING:

Why do they always have to be this boring?

(His face makes a grimace that wasn't easy to look at.)

Why must they make things harder than they should be? Why is it in their nature?

HALEN:

I don't know sire?

ERLKING:

Something that even you don't know.

HALEN:

Seems to be it sire.

ERLKING:

True.

(He moves back.)

Why must they make things harder? He was chosen.

HALEN:

I wish I knew, but sadly, there are limitations to my knowledge.

ERLKING:

There was no other choice. Nobody can escape us.

(He sits on his throne.)

Leave me.

(HALEN bows and leaves.)

ERLKING:

(He looks at the empty throne room and start to talk with the mirror.)

In a hall of gold that stood high in the trees, in a kingdom that has been long forgotten by men, there sits the Faerie King, Auberon, high on his throne. His gaze wandered around the hall, skipping from figure to figure, behind them, rows of columns were stretched on an even distance. The columns had a decorated top, almost all of them were done in the same inlayed herbal motive, to the ordinary human it looked nothing more than a piece of art. To the faerie folk it meant a lot more. Their whole history was recorded in those strange interlaces and vignettes. On one of the columns, the one that was the closest to the throne, the decorations could barely be seen. That wasn't usual; the decorations made by the faerie folk were a synonym for quality. People from around the world could testify that, for the decorations they were the strongest, but for the weapon-smiting they were third place behind elves and dwarves.

(Silence)

The chance, for something like that to happen, is equal for snow to fall in Gildam, There is no way that it could have happened! Not a chance. These pillars are ten thousand years old. There is no chance for that. The problem is the stone. There is nothing else.

(He moved his legs forward.)

Not a living soul entered that day to seek wisdom.

(To him it looked it would be a boring day, he always had that feeling.)

Nothing interesting, I'm bored.

(From the throne, that was dominating the hall; he could see the hall and the other courtyard.)

The massive Igvirian throne was made from a magical wood from Igvirian region. It looked too uncomfortable but people were mistaken. A lot of the elven kings had wooden thrones, but none of them had magical powers. All faerie thrones are magical. The secret was in the wood, even when cut down, it stayed alive. It lived as long as the king lived. Old branches and dried leaves would fall every fall, only to be replaced with new ones every year in the same day of spring. The cycle continued.

(The guards changed alternately, linearly. This irritated him even more. A day, which he thought it would be much different, did start the way he hoped. Something was telling him not to get out of bed.)

(He was fierce on his throne. From his eyes lightings flashed, he muttered something under his breath. Anger engulfed him more and more, he swiftly turned from one armrest to the other, his eyebrows were almost gathering over his nose.)

ERLKING:

Where are my sons? What could be so important that they don't appear?

(He waited.)

(The QUEEN passed by.)

ERLKING:

Finally, someone that I can talk to.

(He moved forward on his throne.)

QUEEN:

I won't bother you; you have a lot to do.

ERLKING:

Where are they?

QUEEN:

They are gone.

ERLKING:

What do you mean?

QUEEN:

They went hunting.

ERLKING:

Hunting, are you sure?

QUEEN:

Yes.

ERLKING:

Of all the things in this world…

QUEEN:

I must leave, I'm going to Aleena.

ERLKING:

Why?

QUEEN:

She gave birth.

ERLKING:

Gave birth?

QUEEN:

Yes, you are a grandfather.

ERLKING:

A boy or a girl, tell me? Don't keep me in suspense.

QUEEN:

A boy…

(She left.)

(He was alone again.)

ERLKING:

I'm a grandfather, finally something interesting.

(The hall was empty.)

I would jump, if the throne wasn't three meters above the ground, time for respite.

(A SERVANT wearing a red tunic entered, breaking the king's monotony. He was never breathless, something must be happening. His pace quickened. He knelt in front of the throne, his eyes here focused on the first steps that led to the throne.)

ERLKING:

Speak, what is that much important? That you are breaking my monotony…

SERVANT:

Your Majesty, I bear urgent news. As you know, the Gilderin mines were flooded a few years ago…

ERLKING:

And what about them?

SERVANT:

Some shafts have opened again…

ERLKING:

So, Irithin has returned. Has he? He has that custom.

SERVANT:

No. the miners were digging…they have found something…they don't know what.

ERLKING:

Finally, something interesting...

(The KING suddenly jumped out of the throne, dignifiedly crossed the hall, positioned his crown and headed towards the mines. He was almost flying. The scenery changed as he walked.)

(Curtain)