The very next moment he felt lumps under his sprawled out body, his hand clasping the sword. His eyes opened to see rays of light through a roof of swirly branches. The absolute silence was something rather unusual to Noah, being from a noisy part of London. It slightly scared him. He sat up, rubbing his back, the lumpy roots hurting his body. Well on his legs, he turned in an effortless try to locate the place. All that he could see was abnormally large trees, odd looking to the shape. Everything had a color of dark blue or green. He kept turning with the feeling of panic growing within him. When he had turned a couple of times he saw something. He jumped when he realized he was no longer alone. Leaned to one of the trees stood a woman with an amused smirk on her full lips. She was dressed in a long, snow-white robe dress. Her wavy hair, silvery blond, framed her beautiful face and cascaded down her body. Her icy blue eyes held a spark of amusement as she watched Noah’s confused face. Around her head something that could only be described as a crown or a diadem was sat. It was made in the purest of silver, holding stones, very similar to little drops of ice, in the elegant middle piece. It winded around her head in small branches. She gave out a small laughter before giving up the position against the tree. 

“The chosen one” Her voice was calm and serene and it held a hint of contentment. She walked in circles round him, eying him thoroughly. “What may this young champions name be” The woman asked as she stood in front of him.

“N-Noah” He stuttered, still confused by the whole situation. As the single word was pronounced a small wind swept over the forest, causing the ageless woman’s hair to lift from her shoulders and sweep around her head. That little action revealed her ears, her pointy ears. All of the stories told by the old men from home came rushing back. They were stories about beings, more beautiful than any man, their skills with the bow and reading the signs of nature. She was an elf. He widened his eyes in chock, all of the happenings today had been odd, but this one took the prize by far. Elves were only characters in myths and stories told in the late hours of night, they were not real, it could not be. She seemed to be bypassed by his reaction as she seemed as chocked as him, if not even more.

“The sign. You are in fact the chosen one.” She breathlessly said, impression holding her voice. “We have to get you to the Headquarters… quick come with me!” She spun around, rapidly leaving the spot they had met. Noah hurried after, trying to keep up with the towering elf’s speed.

“Wait” He cried out “What’s your name?” He ran up beside her.

“Gayhla”

A little calmed by having a little more information about the whole situation he tried to keep up with Gayhla. He was still confused over the top but he figured there was no reason to reflect over that now. He assumed he would get more knowledge about the situation once they got to the headquarters, and if that was the case he wanted to be there sooner than possible.

They quietly paced through the mighty forest. Noah caught himself scanning the surroundings, looking to see something that told him that there was something normal about the situation. He jumped as a pair of eyes met his in the darkness. His heart almost stopped. As he looked down the creature’s body he realized the body was intertwined with a tree. This creature was a dryad. The dryad was not the only thing crossing Noah’s gaze, other small goblins crossed their path, one particularly small one stopped and barked at them for making such noise. Noah had thought they had been completely soundless. They passed a small pond, with small ferries floating on leaves. They glowed in different colors matching their hair, wings and clothes. They all spoke in high pitched voices, giggling a lot.

“Hello Gayhla” They spoke in quire and giggled directly after. Gayhla smiled at them as she took a step over a bit of the pond.

“Who are you?” One of the fairies asked. She left a trail of glitter as she flew up to eye level. She was not bigger than his middle finger and glowed in a purple light. As she waited for his answer her heat tilted to the left, purple locks falling from her head.

“I’m Noah” He answered.

“Noah… Hmph, odd name” She stated as she returned to the colorful group of constantly giggling fairies. Her behavior reminded Noah of a child, honest and unembarrassed. Gayhla laughed at her reaction; causing Noah to stumble over a rock in embarrassment.

 They continued their journey and for everything odd he saw he unknowingly tightened his grip around the golden sword. He realized his knuckles were pale white and he had no feeling in his hand left so he took it in his left hand instead. After a while the trees grew more scattered and as they left the forest behind them a small, decayed cabin, covered with moss and dead creepers appeared. Gayhla bent down to be able to enter the small house. In confusion Noah followed her. The interior was as he expected, old and broken. There was bed, a table and a couple of chairs just beside the open fire.

“Why are we here? Weren’t we going to the HQ?” Noah asked, to curious to keep quiet.

Once upon a time there was an adventurous young boy named Noah. He lived in England with his family of five; His Two sisters, Anne and Suzy, and his parents. His father was a blacksmith, a common trade, not giving much as salary and his mother, a home-working woman, not profiting the family any money. They were poor and survived by thrown away food and money given from the rich. Noah’s father had always wished for Noah to follow in his footsteps and become a blacksmith as well. Noah, on the other hand, had no intention to obey his father, seeing how it had turned out. He had only one wish; to become a knight. His father had given him a wooden sword as a gift on his ninth birthday, a sword granted from a generous man. Neither of them would guess that sword would change his course of faith.

Noah had many times gotten carried away with that particular sword, him and his friends giving in to their fantasy a bit too much. They performed fights for the fair maiden Antoinette, the pretty daughter of sir Wallington, owner of the local button factory. The battles were always without her knowledge of course. One of the fights had cost Noah a friend as the battle had developed from a game to a fight between two teenage boys fancying the same girl. Noah had lost the fight and the rivalry between them had remained. Noah always blamed the loss on him having one of his black curls in his eye, even though no one believed him it proved a porpoise for Noah, Somehow containing his pride. Seeing how Antoinette paid no attention to either of the boys, the fight was a huge waist. She had a look for the boy in the bakery, the one who could sing. At the age of sixteen Noah had trained countless hours with his worn out sword and nobody could compare in the skills he possessed with the blade. He often tried to teach the younger boys, mostly to soak in the appreciation and the impressed looks they watched him with. When he was going out on a Sunday afternoon to escape to the forest with his good friend Marvel to chase the evil dragons amongst the trees, the sword was missing. He turned the house upside down in his desperate chase of the sword. Even if the sword was old and damaged, he had grown strongly fond of it. He impatiently opened a box in the back of the house. It revealed a glittering sword with inscriptions on it. Noah hovered with his hand over the elegant weapon, scared it would disappear if he touched it. He realized how much money he could earn by selling this, his family wouldn’t have to live on the old, hardened bread the bakers threw out. They could fill the thin soup with fresh spring vegetables. They wouldn’t be threatened by death through starving. With those thoughts in mind Noah cautiously took the sword in the grasp of his hands, reading the swirly text on the blade of the weapon.

“The one who reads this is to be removed from this place, into the Seventh World. He shall bring peace to the world of misery and war. The one who reads this is the chosen one”