This is the story that grew completely out of my control. After my bad experience with teacher training I took a job as a chambermaid. Not glamorous, but I thought it was only going to be temporary and so did not want anything that was too permanent. That was four years ago. Although not great career wise, it's fantastic for writing as I can let my mind wander around plots and characters as I clean the rooms. At that time I saw a programme on the TV about Anastasia, the Russian Grand Duchess; a person that has always fascinated me. This, along with the nautical memorabilia that decorated my work place, set my mind travelling to the harbour town of Gnirt. A year of scribbling lines during my tea breaks resulted in a story much longer than I had intended, but the characters took over the action.
  It begins in a tavern by the docks run by a retired seaman, Kiet.


  The tavern had very few customers now. The occasional smuggler used the inn to discuss business deals;  sitting in the darkest corners, but the only regulars were a couple of old women from the town. They had  once sold vegetables to the ships that had docked at the harbour, but now they spent most of their time in the inn, drinking ale, smoking one pipe after another and talking continuously.
  Kiet wondered how they could find enough happening in Gnirt to talk about, but according to them the place seemed a hive of activity! They spent hours discussing everybody in the town and what they were doing, usually complaining about it. Then they would knock out the burnt tobacco and Kiet would think that they were going, but they would fill up their pipes again and start complaining about the weather or some other subject.
  In the last few seasons, Kiet had begun serving another customer. A well dressed young man who spent the evenings alone with his ale, brooding in a corner away from the two women. Kiet did not know who he was, but he was likely to be from the castle and the former sailor knew too well that the wrong questions could cost him his life, so he was content to let his mysterious customer remain anonymous.
  This evening, the man was settled in his usual seat. The two women were on their third pipes, comparing cooking disasters and cooking pans, when they fell silent. Kiet felt the sudden rush of cold air and looked towards the door. In came two people, both short in stature and dressed alike in mud stained travelling clothes and cloaks, with their hoods pulled low to mask their faces. They surveyed the room from inside their hoods and one of the figures led the other to a table in the furthest corner of the saloon.
  Strangers were rare, but not unusual, and it was with a watchfulness that the women resumed their conversation as Kiet approached his new customers.
  "How can I help you?" He asked, trying to glean a clue about their identity.
  One figure glanced quickly at the other. The second person pulled some coins from a pocket and in the process allowed Kiet a glimpse of a sword worn under the stranger's cloak. The money was dropped on the table and  the stranger spoke. The voice was male, but it was kept so low that Kiet was unable to place any accent that it might have.
  "Two ales, and a room for the night."
  Kiet had not had paying guests for a long time. He gave the strangers their ales and called for Aula, the barmaid, to get a room ready.
  The strangers were silent in the dark corner as they slowly drank their ales. The women waited to see if there was more activity forthcoming, but soon stopped watching the strangers and carried on talking with their former enthusiasm. The other customer had not moved. Kiet began polishing his tankards, as he did every night and stopped wondering about the strangers. As long as there was no trouble to him, he did not care what anyone's business was.
  The women were on their next lot of pipes and ales when the attention of everyone in the saloon, proprietor and customers alike, was wrenched back to the corner where the strangers had been sitting.
  A high pitched cry accompanied the crash of the table and tankards as they were flung halfway across the saloon. Kiet saw the two women eagerly scrambling to see what the commotion was, and rushed to reach the shadowy corner before they did. What they found was not a dispute. One of the strangers was lying on the floor; the hood of the cloak having fallen away exposing the stranger's face for the first time. She was a young woman, barely more than fifteen, dark blonde hair cropped close to her head. Kiet's first thought was that she was dead; the woman lying beam rigid on the floor, eyes wide open, staring, her face contorted into a grotesque image.
  Kiet looked around for something to illuminate the corner and locating a ship's lantern among his collection, proceeded to light it, hoping that there was some oil and that the wick was trimmed. The flame spluttered, making shadows dance, but there was enough light for Kiet to see and he felt a wave of relief as he spotted a pulse throbbing in the woman's neck. She was still not breathing though, causing her lips to begin turning blue.
  The woman's companion was greatly distressed at this and gathered her into his arms. Kiet, now that the stranger was no longer hiding his identity, was surprised to see that he was an elf. Generally, elves did not travel far from their homelands and almost never with anyone from other races.
  "Erwen! Erwen!"
  The elf knelt anxiously, holding the woman and calling continuously, as if hearing her name would cause her to take breath.
  Then, just as Kiet was sure that he would have a dead body to deal with, she did breathe. A noisy shuddering inhalation that shook her being. And her body continued to shake; with wild uncontrollable jerks. The elf wrapped his arms around the convulsing limbs and his muscles strained, trying to contain the jerks that were threatening to harm the woman.

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