"How do you take it? Being locked up in here? You had to have been here for a long time old timer." I ask to the Orc in the cell next to me.

"Magic," he says back to me.

"You're an Orc, you can't use magic," I respond.

"Who told you Orcs can't use magic? Your little Snow Elf leaders? They know nothing," The old Orc spits onto the ground at the mention of Snow Elves.

"Snow Elves don't exist anymore. They never did. They refused to move when the High Elves told them they would freeze to death in the great winter. Only the High Elves remained," I inform him of my people's history.

The Orc bursts into laughter as does the Wood Elf across from me. They laugh as if they know something I don't. If I hadn't been surviving on scraps of bread for the last few weeks, I might have blushed with embarrassment.

"What are you laughing at over there dirt elf?" I ask to the Wood Elf.

The two laugh even harder as I sit with my anger growing. If these bars weren't here I'd cast a spell and kill them.

"Do you not know your own history," the Orc asks as the laughter dies down.

"What do Orcs know of history," I spit back. Orcs don't have any written language of their own. There is no way for them to pass down history.

"We don't write our history but our oral history has been passed down from generation to generation. Every Orc knows their history. You can't say the same for your mighty Elves can you? Maybe you should ask the Wood Elves. They know the history of Elves well."

"Well, what do you know," I ask staring across to the Wood Elf.

"He's right, Snow Elves didn't just freeze to death. High Elves took their cities. Raped and murdered them, enslaved many. The Snow Elves didn't stand a chance. They were peaceful, they didn't have the ability to fight back. Within a century, the Snow Elves were no more, they had been assimilated into the High Elf bloodlines. The skin tone of High Elves were originally no different in color than the Dark Elves. The pale white and sparkling skin you have now was originally trait of the Snow Elves. Had you never thought about why your people had skin like freshly fallen snow? They High Elves have manipulated their history for centuries. They are no better than the monsters they claim the Dark Elves to be. If we ever get out, perhaps I'll tell you more." The Wood Elf rolls over and lays down preparing for sleep.

I think about the things that were just told to me. They could be true, I'm not sure. Nothing has been what it seemed to be lately. It's the only reason I ended up in this Dwarven prison.

"So, magic you say," I ask the old Orc.

He's already asleep. Perhaps one day he will tell me.

Sign up for the newsletter and get a free book