Mulling over such complex thoughts, Arnel walked in the light of the moon along the path outside the west wing to that very pliable bush. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he did not notice the half-open curtains in the master’s room and the shadow that disappeared behind them.
Not only the dreamer magician, but also the owner of the estate could not sleep on this quiet night. Celtiel tossed and turned in bed for a long time, trying to drive away the gloomy thoughts that swarmed in his head and prevented the serene sleep from taking its rightful place. He even allowed himself a sip of wine hoping it might help him relax, but after a couple of hours he realized that nothing will and decided to just wait it out.
Taking one of his favorite books from the shelf, he, without lighting candles as there was enough moonlight, settled down at the open window and began to plunge into the history written on the pages. After some time, it’s hard to say for sure, the blue-haired elf heard quiet slow steps approaching his window. Throwing away the book and rising from an arm-chair, he darted to the windowsill in one well-honed movement, grasping the picture outside, and, lightning-fast, disappeared into the depths of the room.
All clear, Arnel has come to cast.
Curiosity spurred the elf, and he moved to the next window, so as not to give himself away with an unnecessary rustle, and also, for the convenience of observation, because from this angle one could see both the bush and the profile of the caster.
The young elf approached the bush, lightly stroking the wing of a leafy manticore with his palm and began to undress. For midnight modeling, maximum skin contact is required. When the boy had only middle thigh length shorts on, he stood in front of the plant and whispered a spell. The flexible green shoots shot up from the ground and entwined Arnel’s hands and ankles. Closing his eyes and concentrating, the elf began a leisurely mental dialogue with the plant, singing to it, persuading, while simultaneously sending the desired image of incarnation.
Celtiel lurked and watched the elf from his hideout. How long ago had he last seen this magic? The sight was mesmerizing. The slender figure of Arnel, entwined with stems the color of his own hair, hovered some ten inches above the ground and seemed to glow from within with a dim light, curly locks fluttered by an invisible wind.
The owner of the estate has already managed to forget this beautiful picture, but there was a time when he watched the same concentrated and charming face of his spouse almost every night. Celtiel involuntarily admired the half-naked body of his gardener, noting that, as it turns out, it consists not only of skin and bones, as Tealina always laments, but very much even has something to hold on to. He admired so much that he missed the moment when the silhouette of an animal smoothly flowed into the elven one, and after a minute, he again looked at himself from the side.
This time his face was calm and serene. The young elf also emerged from a trance with unfocused eyes after merging his mind with Nature. For a second, he lit up with a happy smile, then, still hovering in the air, flew up to the statue, carefully peering into the “face”. And the blue-eyed elf, without blinking and almost without breathing, watched as Arnel, becoming more and more sad, ran his fingers along a green cheekbone, stroked the cheek with the back of his hand, ran his fingers over the statue’s lips, froze for a moment, as if pondering something, and leaning closer, kissed them. Then he recoiled, made a few more passes, placing the master’s hands on the chest, arching the statue’s eyebrow and pulling up the corner of its mouth. Sighing heavily, Arnel sank to the ground and, drooping his head, trudged away. while Celtiel stood in the middle of his room, afraid to move, lost in his own thoughts and memories.
“You are extraordinarily handsome, Celly, you know that?” Diriel cooed tenderly in the dark-eyed elf’s ear, biting the very tip of it.
“Come on, that’s not about me, a warrior with beefy muscles. How can I compare to such a delicate and sophisticated creature like you, dear?”
“No, you just do not see yourself clearly. You are beautiful with that murderous unapproachable beauty. It is impossible not to love you, so only unfortunate elves will surround you,” the green-haired one explained sadly.
“How so?” The elder husband of Caro raised an eyebrow in displeasure.
“Because they will all be crazy about you having zero hope of reciprocity. You can only make one happy by accepting them with your body and soul, letting them into your heart.”