Routine

Elyrielle woke up as every morning with the rise of the sun to follow her daily routine. The birds chirp, and the butterflies fly around as she starts with the cooking for the day. First, bread. She grabs a wooden bowl and puts the ingredients. Flour, eggs, milk, and salt. In the blink of an eye, the soft and moldable mass is ready to get into the oven. With a simple spell, Elyrielle casts fire into the oven.

As every morning, Elyrielle goes to their garden. She waters every plant, from their beautiful rose bushes to their mandrake collection. She also leaves some seeds for the wild birds that visit every morning. After that, she picks up some red dragon's leafs for the morning tea, Lirienor favorites, her husband’s favorites.

With another simple spell, she casts more fire to boil the water for the tea. She watches through the window as she waits for the water to boil. She admires the clear sky where few clouds move slowly across. She now spots a small group of adventurers. A classic group formation. A human in a full armored suit, a young female elf with long silk-like hair wearing an elegant green and white dress, a beast companion (in this case a male with what seemed to be fox ears and tail and finally, another male magician, with a modest gray robe and a big outlandish hat that every magician insists on wearing.

A soft smile forms into Elyrielle's mouth. She recalls her own days as an adventurer. How she always wanted to fight the goblins, dragons, ghouls, and many other cursed beasts that emerged from the dungeons. But, as a female elf, her role was only to support the team and heal them. It was useful as always, but she wanted more emotion, fear, even on her adventures.

The soft whisper of her teapot woke her up from her thoughts. She grabbed the teapot and made tea for her husband and Elthar, her young son. Both of them would wake up in a few minutes, and she needed to have everything ready before that. Unless she wanted to hear her husband’s scolding once again. She sighed and prepared the table. trhee porcelain mugs were now placed on the table along with a piece of bread for each individual.

She sat down then and looked through the window again as she waited to hear her husband’s slow and loud steps and, in contrast, the fast and almost silent steps of her son. She saw a huge red dragon fly magnetically across the sky, its glowing yellow eyes looked on with Elyrielle's and, almost as some sort of salute, both the dragon and the elf nodded to each other. Daydreaming was one of her favorite activities because she didn't have much time to do things for herself. Her whole life revolved around raising and taking care of her adult and young adult son.

As she lost herself within her thoughts, her husband’s angry door slamming made her jump back to reality.

-Elyrielle! What are you doing? Daydreaming again?

- I'm sorry, Lirienor, my dear, the breakfast is ready.

- Are you not going to wake Elthar up?

-I though he would do it on its own dear.

- On its own? He is too tired from earning money from his adventures all day long to do that. Is not much what I ask from you, is it? Go and do your duty "dear". - Said and sat loudly and started drinking his tea without hesitation.

Elyrielle nodded and went to his son's room to wake him up, she thought he could at least do that, but she guessed wrongly. His room was enormous. A big wooden crafted door. Carefully crafted images of warriors fighting dragons (his favorite type of mystical creature). She approached her pointy ear to the door but heard nothing. She gently knocked on the door twice but heard nothing again. So, she gently opened the door. Elthar was sleeping soundly with his mouth open. He was covered with a heavy woolen blanket and many pillows by his head. The window was closed as well as the curtains. Elyrielle could only distinguish all of those details because this was the same situation every single morning since his son became a teenager.

She, as silently as she could opened the curtains and breathed the morning air. Soon, light uncovered that once dark room and transformed into a really messy one for everybody to see.

- Elthar? darling, is time to wake up. Breakfast is ready.

Elthar frowned and covered himself with the heavy blanket.

- Elthar, please, you father is waiting for you.

Annoyed, Elthar stood up in one movement, looked at her mother's golden eyes and said:

- I'm coming, please, I told you that I would wake up when and how I want. Now go, I will soon join you.

- You know that your father will be mad at me because of this.

- I can deal with that. Now go.

Elyrielle nodded and got out of the room in silence. Closed the door and thought for a moment "you are not the one who has to deal with it" and left.

She went to the kitchen and sat down in front of her husband. It's been years since they sat together.

-And Elthar? -Asked Lirienor.

- He said that he is coming.

- And you didn't insist? Incredible Elyrielle, you can't even do that. By the way, the bread is too dry.

Lirienor stood up and went towards his son's room. A battle was about to start.

Elyrielle, just drank her tea in silence. He delicate fingers grabbed a piece of bread and felt it... as she suspected, it wasn't dry.

As they began their daily screaming match, she decided to take a walk. After all, it was still too early in the morning.

She walked until she reached the little river that is near their home. Found a big rock and sat there to meditate, as she did every single day.

In this world, many races live together. The strongest race, magicly speaking, is the elfs. If they are that powerful, why don't they rule the whole world? They can live centuries, use magic even better than magicians, and age slowly and heal faster than any other race. Then, why? Simple. The elder's fog. Once an Elf reaches one thousand years old, no matter how they lived their lives, any day the fog can catch up to them. What is the elder's fog? Is a disease that makes the elfs mind, magic and body to wither away slowly without their control. They can't prevent it, can't cure it or treat it either. Once it's detected, it's too late. That is why there are not that many elfs either.

Elyrielle turned one thousand one hundred and twenty three years old. She is scared. The sad routine that she follows every day is what keeps her mind away from that inevitable fate. But, it wouldn't be her turn yet, right?

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