Kiera - the elves of Erskine

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In the remote village of Erskine ...

Ardenn SilverLeaf looked at the Kiera gathered, and found himself deeply moved.  For unknown reasons, his memories were constant companions today.  Little had he known that his destiny would lead him as it had...

He looked to his side; a warm gaze was his reward as his still-beautiful wife squeezed his hand.  He wondered, briefly, if she was as strongly reminded of the day they met by the stylized drama presented in their honor.  So very long ago... he'd effectively lost count of the centuries, though he suspected that if he chose to concentrate he'd reckon up a number too high for his own comfort level.

Ardenn remembered the long-ago day he had been hunting in the forest, and had stumbled upon a hidden pond ... nearly falling in.  There, to his astonishment, was a startled maiden with damp yet brightly shining coppery hair almost glowing golden where the sun filtered through the trees to caress it.  She had just bathed, and remained only incompletely dressed.

Unlike the elvish race from which Ardenn himself sprang, this maid was bronzed from regular time spent out of doors.  She was petite, much smaller than normal for an elf ... yet she had delicate, pointed ears and the distinctively elvish shape of eyes, nose, lips ... even the set of her chin ... everything about her bespoke a smaller elfess rather than an unusually large she-gnome.  They had spoken few words; barely enough to discover they spoke differing dialects of the same tongue, and to exchange names.

At first, he'd thought he'd fallen into some odd dream or vision, and pondered its meaning.  Ere long, however, more such elves had been discovered.  They were eventually called "wild elves" or "wood elves." 

For unknown reasons, their tribe had wandered near to the borders of the Elvish kingdom.  In all likelihood they sprang from the same ancestors as the High Elves, but such lore was long since lost.  Through the centuries they had become more feral than the highly civilized elves of Ardenn's kind; but they were, undeniably, elves.

Leofia reached up one delicate hand, gently brushing aside a stray golden hair from Ardenn's face and recalling him to the present.  His gaze slid lovingly over her face and her silky, copper-colored locks as they flowed freely over her narrow shoulders.  He saw her deep amber eyes searching his face, which he could feel settling into an expression more thoughtful than joyful. 

This was a wedding, after all ... a time for joy.  Ardenn tried to push aside his memories of the sequence of events, yet found himself drifting back once more ...

As a youth, Ardenn had been fascinated by this new race of elves.  At least, so he had told himself as he kept hunting near the pond where he had first seen Leofia.  She was a healer for her people, she had said.  She used herbs and other things drawn from nature, not just ritual prayers.  This had intrigued him, as had her beauty. 

The elf maid was so small; visually appearing delicate ... yet there was a strength in her that equaled his own.  Her shield-shaped face, with its wide forehead and narrow chin, was endlessly animated as she told about her people.  None of the impassivity, that so often marked the intellectuals and nobility of his own folk, was ever found in the face of the "wild" elfess.  Ardenn had found her constant animation a refreshing change.

Leofia's amber eyes, almost the color of sunlight itself on a late afternoon, graced with flecks of a gentle brown like the hue of sunlight on tree bark, would look into his own eyes as she explained the ways of her people.  For fifteen summers they met near the pond, sharing information... neither had been quite certain when they had grown from acquaintances, into friends, then beyond friends... nevertheless, a day came when Ardenn had realized he wanted her to be always at his side.  He felt again, as he remembered, the thrill that passed through him when he had asked her to join him as his lifemate... and she had agreed with little hesitation.

He'd known, even then, that only fifteen years' acquaintance was rushing things considerably, but his heart had spoken and he wished to act.

Familiar strains of music again recalled Ardenn to the present, as another village elder began the traditional service.  "It behooves each of us to know our own nature.  It has long been understood that Nature created many different kinds of beings. 

"One kind may be symbolized by the Hare.  These live and love for the moment, recklessly spending themselves in shallow pursuits.  They are loyal to their communities, yet fickle in relationships.  They lack the depth within themselves to make permanent commitments.  They are not evil, merely transient ... and if we find ourselves to be like the Hare, we must not feign the nature of any other kind of being.  To go against one's own nature is to live in deceit, and most often give or receive pain.

"Another kind of being can be symbolized by the wolf.  Wolves have greater caution than hares, and greater cunning.  Wolves mate for life, not for the moment.  We are gathered here today because two among us have discovered in themselves the nature of the wolf, a deep instinctive desire to mate for life.  They have also discovered, over a full century of courtship, and through the challenges their lives have set before them during that time, that each is what the other needs in a mate.  Therefore..."

Ardenn found his mind drifting, again, to the day he had presented his intended wife to his family.  His sisters had congratulated him and Leofia joyfully.  Aelfiera had embraced both, having recently become betrothed herself to the eldest son of the Leafshimmer house, and excitedly chattered about the possibility of a double wedding.  Ambria, who had always been slightly more reserved, had smiled at them and spoken a few sincere words of congratulations. After her words, Ambria paused to look toward their parents.

What followed was one of few memories that Ardenn wished he could blot from the tablets of his mind.  His parents had disapproved, so strongly that they had called the house guards to carry him off to the temple to seek "curing" him from the "enchantment" that Leofia must have laid upon him.

Ardenn had known then, as he knew now, that the only "enchantment" upon him was the recognition of his natural life mate.  The priests had been unable to find any sign of magic in use against his mind, and had eventually released him back to his parents.

His sisters had joined forces to conceal Leofia while the guards were dealing with him, but it had been some time before they had managed to inform him of this... as the SilverLeaf guards seemed to be everywhere searching for her.  Ardenn forgave both Aelfiera and Ambria for delaying to inform him of Leofia's safety, as he also feared for her life.  He was more relieved than he'd thought possible, to know she was safely hidden under his sisters' tender care.

None of the three had anticipated such antipathy... but then, so much had changed since the elvish king and queen had returned from their long, unexplained absence with the strange new religion.

The SilverLeaf household was one among the lesser nobility of the elves.  Ardenn's parents, always very legalistic and ambitious, were likely to be caught up in anything so strongly affecting the royalty.

It had long been established custom that if an elf wished to marry with a lesser race, (s)he was expected to make his/her home with the lesser race.  While not officially exiled, the elves who entered a mixed marriage were none the less unofficially "less than welcome" ...as were their offspring.  Always before, "lesser race" had been defined as "not an elf."  It appeared that these "wild elves" were counted as yet another "lesser race."

Ardenn SilverLeaf had begun circulating and seeking others who were "high elves," though had found their life mates among the "wild elves."  He soon discovered twenty more mixed couples.  There was at least one person among that number who followed each walk of life.  This made them sufficient to serve as the foundation toward another colony of elves.  When he offered the notion to them for consideration, all forty were quickly united in that goal.

They had searched as swiftly and quietly as they dared, while the tensions grew between the followers of the new religion and the followers of the older, gentler ways.  At last, among the cliffs of mountains that overlooked an untamed sea, they found an ideal place.  So the village of Erskine was born.  Since they chose not to count themselves as two races, they had gradually come to think of themselves as Kiera ... a name one of the first children had used while learning to speak, that had been adopted and kept.

When the war had broken out, the Kiera had ceased recruiting more elves for their colony, withdrawn into Erskine's walls, and made a law that forbade any to venture beyond the village's environs under penalty of permanent exile.  The followers of darkness had shown themselves to be exceptionally bloodthirsty; the last any Kiera had heard, they were winning the war.  The people of Erskine had not worked so long to form a peaceful village, blending the old ways of high and wild elves into a harmonious whole, only to have it destroyed by followers of Hate.  So it was that the Kiera withdrew into a self-imposed exile from the rest of the world.

A fanfare of music, announcing the end of the traditional service and the beginning of the less formal celebration, again drew Ardenn back to the present.  He wondered briefly, grinning at so much woolgathering, if this was a sign of senility settling into his soul.  He spared a loving glance to his patient wife Leofia, where she stood beside him, then led her forward that they might be among the first to congratulate the young couple.

As he bestowed the founder's blessing upon the young couple, he saw the expression of the bridegroom's best friend.  An unusual expression of blended wistfulness and determination.  Ah yes, the young paladin. 

Ardenn's inner soul winced as he saw the young elf, who reminded him so much of himself in his youth.  Outwardly dissimilar, for the young Paladin had ebon hair and dark grey eyes, and the slightly darker skin of the Kiera ... yet he still bore greater physical markings of high elves than most of the Kiera did.  Yet like himself in his youth, the lad had an inner fire, an instinctive idealism, that was strengthened by his love of the laws instead of hindered by them.  The youth could pass for a high elf, if he chose... and Ardenn found himself hoping the Paladin would choose exactly that path.  Even though it would mean exile...

He could not openly encourage the youth, for that would be breaking his own laws.  However, that had not prevented Ardenn from making sure the lad had every resource available to instruct and empower him toward becoming an adventuring paladin... who might someday leave Erskine, to champion their lost ones...

Tears of pain, guilt and regret, misted Ardenn's eyes as he recalled the loss of his daughter and grandchildren.  Ygrina the Fair, they had called his daughter... she had inherited his own deep golden hair, with only hints of her mother's copper in its depths.  Her eyes, like her father's, were a deep bluish violet hue.  Yet her narrow, slightly upturned nose was her mother's, as was her shield-shaped face and wide eyes.  Her fair skin was slightly darker than high elves', just enough that one would notice it if she were seen among the purebloods.  That, and her moderately lesser height, marked Ygrina as a true Kiera.

Gareth Greenleaf had won Ygrina SilverLeaf's heart.  After a suitable courtship, the pair had wed and dwelt together peacefully for a few centuries... until the day the slavers came and devastated the Erskine village.  Ardenn's granddaughter Legolia was only seven summers old, his grandson only hours old, when the slavers came.

Ardenn had never forgiven himself for failing to check on the young family when the alarm was raised.  Ygrina had been resting after an arduous delivery, her husband had been out hunting for a special treat to grace their table, and little Legolia was left in charge of the house.  A child only seven summers old would not be instructed about alarms... and she had not known the meaning or the proper response.

The entire village population, save the young mother and her two children, had withdrawn hastily and nearly silently to nearby caves where extra provisions were normally stored.  It was not until the slavers were pounding at the gates of the walled village that it was realized that the young Greenleaf family was missing.

Ardenn, like Gareth, had heard Ygrina's mental cry that she had been captured and her newborn son slain.  Little Legolia she had sent into the woods to hide...

The other villagers had held him back, reminding Ardenn that he was needed to lead the survivors... but the scouts and rangers who crept stealthily from the caves were unable to do more than harass the slavers with arrows.  There were many Minotaurs, ogres, trolls and assorted other races... the party was exceptionally large and well-armed.  The villagers were separated from most of their best armor and weapons, since the need to flee had come so suddenly.  Ill-prepared as they were, they could not hope to prevail.

Gareth Greenleaf was also a Ranger, arguably Erskine's best.  He had tracked the slavers some distance, preferring exile to losing his wife.  He had been caught also, severely injured and beaten, and then left for dead.  The slavers had hung about for another week, and then departed... taking Ygrina with them.

It remained a mystery how Gareth had survived, but he had.  Ardenn reflexively looked to where his son in law sat nearby, solemn as always, in his poled chair.  Gareth could no longer walk, but had to be carried from place to place.  He never lacked for willing hands... Ardenn sometimes wondered if the helpfulness of his villagers toward Gareth was from compassion, or guilt. 

A search had been made, but the elfess child Legolia had never been found.  It was believed by some that she had not escaped the slavers' fire that destroyed the otherwise empty village.  Others, however, held hope that she had been found by some more kind-hearted folk. 

The child's constant companion had been this young paladin.  Now grown, he attended the bridegroom at today's wedding.  Had no tragedy overtaken the village, 'twas likely the two would eventually have grown into life-mates.  Even as young children, they had seemed unusually well matched in many ways.  The paladin had been ten summers old when little Legolia was lost.

Ardenn saw that Gareth was looking toward the young paladin, an intense expression upon his face.  He sees it too, Ardenn thought, and hopes as I do...

Memories rose to haunt and torture Ardenn further.  For most of the first year after her capture, Ygrina's gifts of enchantment had spared her many indignities.  The slavers had carted her from place to place.  Though she had found no means of escape, she had avoided purchase and gotten by.  They had continued raiding, and at times Ygrina had been able to aid other captives, even helping small children to escape.

Unfortunately, in the spring of the second year, the slavers had journeyed into the forest surrounding the entrance to the caverns governed by the dark elves.  There Ygrina had been purchased, and her few tortured thoughts that had come since that day were a pain to all who had received them.  The thoughts tortured Gareth most of all.

Ardenn's beloved daughter had been beaten, drugged and violated.  She knew, and constantly practiced, the enchantment that prevented seed placed within her from growing.  She sent warnings and images of her captor, an elf with blue skin and white hair.  Another elven race, she said. 

Her purchaser's name was Draq Y`Fel.  He had an elder brother, Deorc Y`Fel, who also knew the way into the underground chamber where Ygrina was imprisoned.  At first, Deorc visited her nearly as often as Draq.  It was some time ere the captive elfess could tell the brothers apart.  She was not accustomed to their blue skin and snowy hair, nor to the family similarity in their features.  But she learned.  Deorc gradually came less often, till she seldom saw him at all.

As time had passed and Ygrina's mind had faded, many of the folk in Erskine village had gradually ceased to be real and substantial to her.  Eventually, she even stopped reaching out to Ardenn... the only one who seemed to have any contact with her was Gareth, her lifemate.  Even so, it was an open question whether she had ever received the thoughts or love they constantly sent her.

The scattered thoughts he so seldom received, lately, were the most disturbing.  It seemed that Ygrina believed that Gareth had come to her, claiming spousal privileges as an effort to soothe away some of the violations she had endured... yet there sat Gareth, broken and frustrated at his own inability to go to her.  Ygrina had spoken of withholding the contraceptive enchantment, since losing her son made her eligible to birth another child.

The captive Kiera elfess had sent Gareth images of a daughter, born with the palest imaginable golden hair, and slightly bluish skin.  Ygrina believed the discoloration was the result of a common thing that happened to newborns, when there was a breathing difficulty.   However, Ardenn and Gareth shared the belief that one of the dark ones had the power of illusion, and had approached her in the guise of Gareth.  If their theory was correct, Ygrina had unintentionally born a child of mixed Kiera and dark elven blood.

Ygrina called her child Beruthielle.  The child was taken from her at birth, by Deorc Y`Fel, and she never saw her closely again.  She was occasionally permitted to see the child from a distance, but never close enough to speak with her or distinguish the child's features.

It had been some time since even Gareth had received thoughts from Ygrina.  Most felt that she had finally died, and was at last at peace.  Ardenn and Gareth shared the fear that she may yet live, but too heavily drugged or downtrodden to send clear thoughts so far.

Father and son in law shared the belief that Legolia yet lived, for the "carrier wave" of her gentle presence had never ceased.  It was faint, but it continued.  As did the faint trace of pain from her mother, and a sense of confusion that may be Beruthielle...

Ardenn found himself watching the young paladin closely; taking in the youth's hardening determination like a man too long in the desert would take in water...

Yes, this youth just might be exactly what was needed...

Troubled Thoughts

The young Kiera walked with heavy heart, staring at the ground immediately before his feet.

His leave-taking had been awkward. His family had not wanted him to leave his home village, their cherished and carefully-concealed Erskine.

He remembered looking back, in all likelihood for the last time, upon the entrance. Because his eyes knew what to look for, he could just make out the stone that stood before the crevice that grew into the tunnel entrance to the concealed village.

He still remembered the day that the entire village, except for 3, had fled silently to the cavern. He remembered the terror that he had felt from his growing link with Lia. A fragile link, because of their extreme youth, that had faded as she turned feral to survive.

He still sometimes fancied he sensed Lia's presence, but knew not within his own heart if he truly believed her alive anymore.

He had seen the process growing.  Little by little, all maidens of suitable age were pairing with others. Somehow, though, none had compared to his recollections of that gentle, clever, compassionate childhood friend.  He could not but imagine how fair a woman she must be becoming.  If she still lived.

He understood, intellectually, the need to restrict population growth within Erskine's community to avoid needing excessive harvesting to survive. Their creed required living in harmony with nature, not overburdening it. But why only 20 children, born within a 15 year span, every 200 years? The next generation would not be permitted for over a century, and then they must grow ...

Nay, if he wished a wife of approximately his own seasons, he must go out and seek her beyond the environs of Erskine. The previous generation had all paired, save those who were not inclined toward life mates. His own generation had largely either discovered themselves not inclined to mate for life, or had begun the early stages of the traditional century-and-a-half of courtship.

Besides ... oddly enough, he still missed Lia.

She had been three summers younger than himself when she was lost. He knew, as her father knew, that someone had taken her from the area after the decimation of the original Erskine. Her father, Gareth Greenleaf, had been unable to find her again because of his injuries. It seemed she had concealed herself from other searchers.

The village elders had chosen to rebuild the town by opening the top of the cliff and enlarging the natural caverns until the cliffs themselves were the new city wall. Oh, they put in gates, and assorted castle defenses as they devised them, but the main defense was the mountain itself and its difficulty in being distinguished.

Seventy summers had passed since the loss while the village was rebuilt and fortified ... Legolia could be anywhere, if she yet lived.

The young paladin was convinced he was doing the right thing, yet he ached from needing to leave his home. He ached from being disowned by his family, a threat they had not expected they'd be called upon to carry out. He ached from knowing the penalty for leaving Erskine was to make the leaving permanent ...

A small, mischievous grin tweaked up one corner of the youthful elf's mouth. Ardenn SilverLeaf and Gareth Greenleaf ... they had a different opinion of his leaving. He'd seen it in Gareth's expressive eyes, and heard it in Ardenn's tone. Two village elders prepared to rewrite the laws concerning exile, if he returned with Lia. And one of them the founder, no less ...

During the previous week, he had traveled through the mountain pass and across the rolling hills in the region surrounding his home. He remembered with a brief flush of embarrassment how he'd gotten slightly singed as he discovered how the mountainous region got its name.

This morning he had entered the edge of a deep forest.  According to the map Gareth had slipped to him just before his departure, it might be the edge of the wood where the wild elves once roamed. The map was of Ardenn's make, and the Kiera youth suspected it was not stolen. He saw marked upon it the spring where Ardenn SilverLeaf had met his bride, Leofia. Well, his water skin was growing a bit too light anyhow; he may as well refill it.  Besides, it would be an opportunity to learn if he was reading the map correctly.

There were many large rocks around the small spring-fed pond, and two grassy areas on either side of the largest stone. As the paladin approached, he saw that one side had an occupant. He hesitated, but curiosity prompted him to venture near. This would be the first soul he'd encountered outside Erskine. He found himself, somewhat to his own surprise, wishing very much to talk to another intelligent being.

He climbed the slight rise, and discovered himself looking down upon a sleeping elfess. Honey brown hair, showing golden where the sun caressed it, was spread out on the grass. A wide forehead, fully closed eyelids, softly curving cheeks, a slightly turned-up nose, thin lips and a narrow chin were framed by the shining locks.

Her skin was as fair as his own, he realized, as his eyes traveled farther down her form. A cloth was wrapped around her neck, the ends drawn down to cover her breasts. A little of her stomach showed before another cloth that was wrapped about her slim waist to form a makeshift skirt. One lean yet shapely leg was partly exposed where the lower ends of the cloth didn't quite meet. Her feet were narrow; her toes relaxed...

His heart leaped within him. And not merely because she was fair to look upon. His eyes hungrily scanned the exact contours of her face again, comparing it to Leofia's. Was it possible that he could be rewarded so soon?

Unwilling to wake her, at least not yet, it occurred to him to make himself presentable. He walked to the other side of the large stone, and claimed the swatch of grass growing there as a temporary home. As quietly as possible, to avoid waking the sleeping elfess, he set down his satchel and slipped out of his armor.

He suspected this armor was yet another surreptitious gift from Ardenn SilverLeaf, since the founder had also been a paladin. This armor was of exceptionally fine craftsmanship and, he suspected, recently made. He unbound the thong that held the end of his ebon braid doubled under itself at his neck. He unbraided his silken locks, permitting his hair to flow halfway down his back. He hesitated, glancing again toward his sleeping neighbor, and then shed his under layers of mail, leather and cloth.

The water was refreshing, and he remembered to fill his water skin before he left it to dry off. Pulling a fresh cloth from his own pack, he formed for himself a makeshift skirt to wear as he rinsed out his own garments. Then he sat near the edge of the pool, letting his weary feet soak in the water, while he brushed out his dark locks. He would rebraid his hair in the traditional manner once it was at least partly dry.

His eyes and thoughts kept straying to the sleeping elfess as he worked. "Holy Maker, if only... would You indeed be so kind?" It was half a thought, half a prayer. Never truly spoken, mostly felt...

He couldn't seem to get enough of looking at her. Though fair-skinned, there were signs in the flesh he could see that indicated an active life. Her body was not overly thin or soft, as might be found on one too absorbed in study. Nor was she bound with overly developed muscles, as might be found in one who did hard labor. She was lithe and lean, with just enough curves in the right places that there could be no mistaking her as anything but feminine.

He leaned his back against the rock, turning mostly away from her. He could look over his shoulder and see her, but mostly his intention was to guard her while she slept so soundly - even from himself. He did check, occasionally, for the gentle rise and fall of her chest to make sure that she was, in fact, only sleeping. At least, he told himself that's why he looked...

None would harm her, whoever she was, while he remained.

As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, and shadows began lengthening, the paladin felt himself and his attire adequately dry. Still she slept, barely clad, on the other side of the rock. He considered braiding his hair again, but chose to leave it loose for the moment. He would meet her on as nearly equal terms as possible, he decided. He donned leather, placing his plate in his pack.

Cupping water in his hand, he walked over to her nearest outstretched hand and knelt beside her. Aiming carefully, he poured the water from his own hand into hers.

The results were immediate. She sat up, gasping, looked at him through wide, startled amethyst eyes, and pushed away from the ground into a defensive stance. Her shield arm bent to clutch her upper cloth together; her sword hand was outstretched defensively. The dangling ends of the cloth she'd bound around her waist separated wider, one end slipping between her knees, the other end slipping off her left leg.

Only then did he realize his tactical error: he was kneeling by her pack, separating her from her clothing and weapons. Oops.

"I mean you no harm, fair one," he said slowly, looking into her eyes and spreading his hands wide to show he carried no weapons. "I was worried because you slept so soundly. As night approaches, with its attendant dangers, I wakened you." He spoke in the tongue most folk would call "Elder Elvish," which was the native speech for those within his village.

He saw her brows draw together into a thoughtful frown, saw her gaze moving over him. After the briefest of pauses, he saw her brows relax. So, she had come to some decision... what was it?

She nodded, slowly, still regarding him with a measuring look. "May I request the kindness that you turn your back while I reclaim my clothing?" she asked softly in the same tongue.

He looked down, breaking the shared gaze, and smiled. Brushing back the ebon strands that had fallen forward when he moved his head, he answered her query. "Most certainly, fair one," he said through his smile. He moved back to the rock, leaning against it, and turned his back toward her while he reclaimed his weapons and belted them around his waist.

He kept his word not to look, but he listened and wondered ... at last, guessing from what he heard that she was likely dressed, he asked "Are you ready for my return, fair one? I would speak with you if I may ..."

Another rustle, then silence.

"May I return and speak with you?" he asked again. But his only reply was more silence.

"Fair one?" He asked again, finally turning back to where she had been ... only to find her and her pack gone.

He dropped to his knees, feeling more alone than he had ever before felt in his life, and prayed for strength to complete the quest he believed it was his destiny to fulfill.

     *     *     *     *

Lia watched the unknown elf from the concealment of a nearby tree.

She saw him drop to his knees, and his shoulders droop. Her heart forgave him, in that moment, for coming upon her unawares. Yet she remained hidden, too wary to approach him... at least, not yet.

He rose to his full height, roughly the average for a high elf male. She watched as he braided his ebon tresses into a tight cord, and then doubled it to bind the end under itself at his nape. She watched him lace leather thongs over his braid, making the hair into a secure, solid bundle.

His movements were fluid and graceful, and bore the assurance of much practice. His eyes were often downcast, but she remembered them being the grey of a stormy sky... and little less troubled... from when he had held her gaze at their meeting.

What made her most uncomfortable was that he seemed so familiar somehow ... yet Legolia could not place how or where she might possibly have encountered this man before.

Few high elves had such dark hair; that was sufficiently unusual that she suspected it might have held in her memory. Or had she met another dark-haired high elf gentleman, and was she simply confusing the two?

She watched as he removed his weapon belt again, to don his chain and plate armors. As she watched him restoring his weapon belt, she began wondering just how long he had been there...

She hadn't meant to sleep, and hadn't realized she was so worn from recent events that she might sleep so deeply that a stranger could approach unnoticed. That was not like her, and it alarmed her. What if he had been an enemy?

It was growing dark. Lia watched as the unknown elf considered, looking long in each direction. Then he looked back at the spring-fed pond, and lowered his pack again.

She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he had chosen to camp there for the night. A slight breeze rippled the tree branches, so she used that opportunity to settle herself more comfortably while the breeze concealed any sound from her movements. This could be a long night, 'twas well she had already rested...

He gathered firewood, from loose branches lying nearby upon the forest floor. That respect for live trees, avoiding any needless harm to them, won him a measure of respect from the watching Ranger. Especially given the fact that, at least to all appearances, he believed himself to be entirely alone.

From her hidden place among the tree branches, Legolia watched him form rocks into a circle, and place the wood within it. She saw him take up an archer's bow and venture into the woods. Ere long he returned, with his bow slung over a shoulder and 2 hares held by their ears in one hand. They had been slain cleanly, Lia noted.

Drawing tools from his backpack, he skinned the hares and tended their hides while they cooked on a spit. Lia was again impressed by his economy, seeing that he tended to all usable parts of the creatures whose lives he must spend to sustain his own.

After eating, he set all meat he hadn't eaten into a pan and left it in the ashes near the fire. Pulling a blanket from his pack, he lay between the fire and the large rock. He rolled himself into the blanket, spreading his cloak over his body also. He checked that he had a weapon ready against any unwelcome visitors, and then settled down for the night.

Lia grew increasingly uncomfortable in her arboreal perch. The night was growing chill, and she had not yet acquired sufficient funds for a replacement cloak or chainmail. The leather alone just didn't feel like enough clothing...

His fire seemed to beckon to her. He appeared to sleep soundly, though she had noted his precaution of having a weapon handy. Feeling increasingly chilled, and inadequately protected from the wind by her tree, Lia eventually climbed down.

Hesitantly, half fearing some trap she knew not how to recognize, she crept within reach of the fire's warmth. She had instinctively brought twigs that had lain between her tree and the fire, and sat feeding them to the dancing flames and trying to ignore how heavy her eyelids were growing.

Just lying down shouldn't be as dangerous as sleeping, she thought vaguely, and reclined between the pond and the fire with her recently-acquired dagger in one hand. Scarcely had she laid her head on one arm for a pillow than her eyelids had fluttered closed...

     *     *     *     *

A tug on his hair awakened him; his hand reflexively moved to push away the intruder.

Wings flapped by his hand as the startled, small bird flew away. He shrugged, vaguely
wondering but not knowing what could possibly have attracted the bird to pick at his hair just before sunrise.

It was already past daybreak, so sunrise must be imminent. He glanced toward the remaining, softly glowing coals of his campfire. Remembering the leftover hare's meat and thinking it might make him a good breakfast, he abruptly hesitated in the act of reaching toward the pan.

Unless his eyes were playing tricks upon him, his almost-acquaintance, the elfess from yester eve, now reclined on the far side of his campfire from him. She was sound asleep, huddled and shivering from the chill morning air, and clutching a dagger in one delicate fist.

He smiled gently, as one might smile at a sleeping child. He was curious as to why she had departed so abruptly.  He was even more curious about why she had returned during the night.  Yet he was more pleased to see her than he was curious at her unusual behavior.

Twice in as many days, she had held his life in those delicate hands. First when he had turned his back, unarmed, to permit her a measure of privacy to don her attire. And again, when she had crept to the far side of his campfire while he slept. Since she had not harmed him when opportunity presented itself, he counted her an ally.

The first rays of the rising sun slipped over the horizon as he regarded the sleeping elfess. The sunlight caressed her honey-brown hair with golden highlights. It also brought enough light into the small clearing that her face was no longer completely in shadow.

Once he could distinguish her features again, there remained no doubt but that she was the same elfess he had seen the previous afternoon. She lay huddled, her left arm doubled under her head as a pillow, her right arm close to her and clutching her rusty dagger. Her wide forehead was smooth and untroubled as she slept, her lustrous eyes covered by her eyelids with gently curling lashes, her thin lips slightly parted showing healthy teeth.

Her continued shivering would wake her soon, he reasoned, if he did not act to cure it. With care to avoid making any sound, he gathered his blanket and cloak into his hands. Treading as softly as he was able, he moved to stand roughly even with her waist, and then gently covered her.

Though he'd half expected her to waken alarmed, instead she gradually relaxed as the warmth still within his blanket and cloak began to soak into her. He nodded, pleased with the effect, and smiled. Whether or not this was his lost childhood friend, she was an intriguing enigma. One mystery that he definitely desired to know better.

Treading softly again, he moved back to his own side of the circle of coals, and carefully lifted his pack. He took it to the far side of the rock and opened it, then strapped his plate armor on. He would speak to her when she wakened, if she permitted. If not, he needed to venture past this region to learn what had become of the elvish people... and where Ygrina or her daughters might be found.

He fished out some drying bread from his pack, a parting gift from some of the townsfolk. His own parents had been noticeably absent from his leave-taking... some assured him it was on account of their hope that he might yet change his mind, though the Paladin feared that it was more from disapproval or anger.

He shrugged, realizing that it was unlikely he would ever know, since he was banned from returning. At least, officially. He recalled how Ardenn had called him out, late the night before he left.  The elder elf had questioned him intensively, and finally accepted his answers.

The Founder himself had then claimed the youth for his own squire, commissioning him to be the seeker of the lost ladies. "Find them if you can, Son of Destiny," Ardenn SilverLeaf had said that night. "And if not, may you find a calling that fulfills your needs and supplies you with peace."

He knelt and offered up a prayer of thanksgiving, that at least this one morning he would not be alone.

Thinking he heard a sound from the far side of the rock, he took up his bow and stepped around it. She was stirring, but had not yet wakened. Smiling and relaxing the bow, he unnocked the arrow he'd drawn and replaced it in the quiver.

By this time the sun had cleared the horizon.

She sat up abruptly, blinking her wide eyes with sudden wakefulness and looking around to regain her bearings. She looked at the cloak and blanket, still covering her from waist to toes, and then looked to where he had laid the night before.

"I wakened first," he said gently, hoping not to alarm her, "and you appeared to be cold." He found himself smiling again, as he saw her whip her head toward him, her grip tightening on her dagger. He saw her narrow her eyes, squinting at him as if measuring his worth.

"What kind of knight would I become if I failed to aid a Lady in need?" he quipped, hoping she would appreciate his effort toward humor.

At first she remained entirely solemn, half glaring at him... but then, he saw a corner of her mouth twitch and quirk upward in a half grin. She looked down, a gentle flush overspreading her pale complexion and softening her expression.

Realizing that he no longer had any right to claim a family name, he offered her only his first name and requested hers. His heart pounded as he waited, tensely, wondering whether his first hopes of her would be confirmed or dashed.

"I am called Legolia," she answered softly, with only a slight accent as she spoke. "Begging your pardon, I ought not to impose upon your hospitality any longer. I must fulfill an oath, and remain near the city of the wood elves for a time..." Her words faded as her brows drew together in thought, pondering thoughts she did not share.

He had not realized that he had been holding his breath until he began to breathe again. "Praise be to the Maker," he breathed, then paused. How common a name was it? She had been the only one to bear that name within Erskine, but outside?

"You are not imposing, Legolia," he said in a gently chiding tone. "Surely your errand can wait until after we have broken fast?"

Her eyes lifted to gaze upon his face briefly, and then lowered again. "I..." she began, hesitated, then continued, "I ought not to partake without contributing. A moment, if you will..."

In one swift, graceful movement she slipped out from under the covers he had laid over her, and darted into the trees. "Please, wait!" he called to her, but she was already gone.

Had he found her only to lose her again?

He began poking through his pack, disenheartened, and then looked up at another rustle in the brush. There she stood with her cupped hands full of ripened berries. She held them out diffidently, as though uncertain if her offering would be adequate or accepted.

His smile returned, possibly wider than before. He held out his own hands, larger and broader than hers; she gently deposited the berries within them, and then stepped back. After looking mildly embarrassed while stood feeling much the same, she moved to the spring and rinsed her hands in the water.  

That gave him an idea. "In my pack," he said, "if you would be so kind, Legolia, there is another small pan-"

She turned, looking up at him from where she knelt by the water, and then nodded. The pan he'd wanted was partway down, but she found it readily enough and held it under his hands. He spilled the berries into it, and then she returned to the spring to add water.

She returned to the fire, blowing gently on it and adding some dry grasses. She laid the pan in the best place to begin cooking them into a sauce.

Almost quicker than the eye could follow, she was gone again, shortly returning with vegetables and herbs. Those she added to the rabbit meat, along with more wood to revive the fire. Always dry wood, nothing recently carved from any living tree.

Repeated trips she made, silently, between forest and campfire. In less than an hour, she had foraged and begun heating a veritable feast of roots, berries, herbs and vegetables.

The young paladin remembered well the tales told of Gareth Greenleaf's woodcraft... mayhap his daughter had inherited some of that gift.  He wished to speak with her... to know both her, and her world, better. Yet he was cautious about revealing the extent of his isolation. Seventy years was a long time... was her heart still of Erskine, or had she entirely forgotten her home?  She had been so very young, when they lost her: only seven summers old.

He had to encourage conversation, since she seemed inclined toward silence. But as they spoke, he coaxed out of Legolia the information that she was a foundling who had been raised by the wood elves deeper within that same forest. Her first home had been burned to the ground, she said, by marauders. She admitted, wistfully, to wondering if any others of her own people survived.

As he had feared, she evinced little memory of her life before she was found.

She had only recently returned from an extended trip, the details of which she chose not to give beyond the statement, "I have recently escaped from a band of dark elves."  At his inquiry, Legolia admitted that she tended to live and travel solitary.  One result of that lifestyle is that she was seldom very up-to-date on politics.

Because of her recent extended journey she was not fully familiar with recent events, aside from the endless ongoing harassment of certain violent creatures against the elves, since the fall of the troll city to the frog people.

This tale intrigued the young Paladin greatly, the eviction of the foul Trolls from their home of recent centuries. He resolved to hunt some local violent creatures, in the service of his parent race(s), and then begin his search from the frog city. It seemed that city was the one stronghold of good souls that Legolia could speak of with confidence.

It was approaching midday, and he could detain her no longer. He had shared that he was from a remote village, but had not given its name. He told her how the quest he felt called to had caused disapproval; one result was that he no longer had any right to his family name. This filled him with sorrow, but he must be faithful to his calling.

"If this quest is truly your destiny from the Maker, then you do well to follow it faithfully," she said slowly. "May you be granted the strength and wisdom to complete it with honor."

She glanced toward the sun, then back toward him. "I must go to the largest city in the wood elves' domain," she said, "to be available to receive mail for another eight or ten suns. Thereafter, I have a quest of my own to fulfill." She stood, bowing formally, then bade him farewell with the blessings of the Maker.

He watched after her, the place where the bushes parted and she had disappeared, for several heartbeats ere he could focus again on the tasks at hand.

Swiftly then he packaged up all his possessions. Once his own belongings were stored within his pack, he carefully restored the clearing, as much as possible, to the state it had been in when first he arrived. He stood long over the place where he had first seen her sleeping.

He focused his memories, holding the pendant Ardenn Silverleaf had given him as a "contact point" which would make mental communication between them flow more smoothly.

Concentrating carefully, he replayed the time with Legolia from the moment he asked her name. When he received joyful acknowledgement from his mentor, he slowly turned away.

He traveled to the other side of the forest, slowly and pausing often to pursue those violent creatures that he felt equal to defeating.  He emerged from the other side as evening began to descend.  He would continue traveling, even through the coming night, for his heart and mind were far too full for sleep. Allowing the moon and stars to light his way, he began journeying from the forest toward the distant shore.

A New Home

The young Kiera stretched his back, and felt the ache of weariness residing there.  Had he been able to return to his proper home for a fortnight's rest, he would have done so.  Since that was not an option open to him, he began his journey to the next best haven available: the capital city of the high elves. 

He paused outside the castellated gates to doff his helm and smooth a few of his ebon hairs back into place.  This was not vanity on his part, but obedience to his understanding of a means to show respect.  He courteously greeted the few passers-by he encountered, and then walked with what briskness his weary body could muster toward an inn.

He found his pace slowing, however, as he began admiring and enjoying the sight of Elvish architecture.  His own home town was formed of humbler stones, such as granite and slate; but the styles of the buildings were otherwise very similar.  One may almost say nearly identical.  Even to the scrollwork ornamentations, and to the city being largely housed within a mountain.  It was refreshing to his soul.  He had not realized, till that moment, just how much he had missed both his home and even the sight of Elvish craft.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of golden-brown hair, kissed by the late afternoon sunlight to a gentle glow.  Uncertain if he'd truly seen who he thought and hoped he'd seen, he turned immediately to follow her and learn for certain.

The elfess did not lack in fleetness of foot; it was with some effort that the weary Paladin kept up with her.  She seemed entirely unaware of his presence, yet coincidentally always just turning a corner out of his line of sight even as he reached the former corner in his pursuit of her.  Had he been less pleased about a possible opportunity to speak with her, he might have grown frustrated.

At last, after following the unintentionally elusive lady past the merchant and arcane districts, and through yet another tunnel to a residential district, he saw her pause before the intricately carved door of a large house.  "Leafshimmer" was inscribed over the door in an ornate, artistically rendered Elder Elvish script.  The letters appeared to be formed of silver or platinum, and outlined in deep green marble.  It was difficult to determine, from his first view, if each letter was hung upon the external wall of the manor - or if they were inlaid and actually part of the wall.

The elfess had apparently exchanged some few words with one of the stalwart, well-armored elves flanking the door.  As he turned the last corner, she was just passing inside.  The Paladin paused, briefly, and then decided it would be better to appear mildly foolish than to be left wondering if the elfess he had followed were the same one he'd met in the forest not long ago.

The Kiera youth approached the guard, empty hands held wide, and greeted the man courteously in "modern" Elvish only slightly accented by his native Elder Elvish.  "Good day, sir.  I thought I chanced to see an acquaintance pass this way, and would greet her if I may.  Did I in truth see, or was I mistaken, that Miss Legolia Greenleaf entered here?"

The door ward had looked mildly bored, until hearing the lady's name and seeing the crest etched into the Paladin's breastplate.  He abruptly came to attention, saluted, and said, "Lady Aelfiera will wish to see you immediately.  If you would be so kind as to follow me?"

Surprised by the response, the young Paladin none the less courteously nodded and gestured for the other to precede him.  He was led inside through an exquisitely appointed hallway that yet displayed enough restraint to avoid ostentation.  Wide marble squares of alternating pale green and deep green formed the floor, and the walls seemed formed of the pale green marble with deeper green veins.  Beautifully carved pillars supported the slightly arched ceiling at intervals.  Yet the hallway was not bare: carpeting, paintings and tapestries adorned it.

He was led nearly to the end of this hallway, then aside to a modestly-sized room.  Like the hallway, there was nothing ostentatious about any of the contents... nor was there anything ostentatious about their number or arrangement.  Yet each item, instead of being merely utilitarian, was of the finest craft and materials.  Every item was also, to the added wonder and delight of the weary young Paladin, distinctly elvish in form and decoration.

Scarcely had he had time to become familiar with the small sitting-room when a regal elfess appeared in the doorway opposite the one he had entered.  She was tall, even for a high elf.  Her hair, drawn up into a traditional fall down her back, was a deep flame-like auburn with only a very few silver strands to prove that she was not young.  Her eyes were a deep shade somewhere between blue and purple, her skin fair as milk, her lips unpainted yet nearly as rich in color as her hair.  Upon her brow was a filigree of gold and emeralds.  The silken gown she wore was richly embroidered with emblems of leafy twining vines in varying shades of gold, silver and green.

The door warden appeared almost instantly behind her.  His voice sounded mildly out of breath, though heavy with respect, as he formally announced: "The Lady Aelfiera Leafshimmer."

By instinct or reflex the young Kiera rose and bowed formally.  When he straightened, he was very much aware of her scrutiny.  Her blue-purple eyes were filled with some emotion he could not immediately define.

"Please, sit and be comfortable," she said graciously, taking a nearby seat herself as she gestured toward the seat he had just vacated.  Her voice was a rich alto that carried the ring of authority.

He bowed his head formally, responding softly, "Yes, milady," as he obeyed.

After a pause during which she considered him thoughtfully, she asked, "Might I inquire as to your purpose in coming here?  It has been long since the house of SilverLeaf sent a messenger."

For a moment, he looked at her without comprehension.  Then he realized she was looking at the faint etching in the front of his breastplate.  "I..." he began awkwardly, uncertain what he should say or do.  He recalled his oaths of silence, yet she needed some answer.  He knew, in part, his silence was demanded on the basis of a belief that the elves of Hate had won the war.  Now that he had spent a little time in outside his home village, he knew full well that not all elves had fallen to the power of Hate.  This lady, clearly, was no follower of darkness.

"In fact, you are not from the SilverLeaf manor within this city at all, are you?"  She said softly.  Somehow her words felt more like a statement than a question.  "How is it you come to bear that armor?  It is inscribed with the personal crest of one we had long believed dead, and I would hear of my brother's fate from one who should know."

The Paladin's grey eyes widened at the statement.  Her brother?  But of course, Lord Ardenn had left behind two sisters who had not intermarried with the wood elves.  The Founder lived and thrived in Erskine; it ought to be no surprise if at least one of his sisters yet lived.

"It was given me by an elder of my home city," the Kiera responded cautiously.  "I know not for certain, but it is possible that it was his own from his youth.  He has not battled for many years, but he took me as his apprentice none the less.  I am honored by his patronage."

She closed her eyes briefly, and then released her breath in a long gentle sigh.  "Ardenn yet lives, then?" she half spoke, half whispered, sounding almost hesitant to believe it.

"Yes milady," he replied.  "He and Lady Leofia continue to oversee all matters of importance within his domain.  He is chief of the elders, the Founder of our home."

The Lady's rigid posture relaxed, and then she smiled.  "This is most welcome news," she said.  Her voice had returned to its former strength and authoritative ring.  "Please, be a welcome guest within my home.  Any apprentice chosen by my brother may make his home here."

He rose to bow formally, understanding and accepting this honor.  At a gesture from her, the Paladin resumed his seat.

"Now," Aelfiera said gently but firmly, "tell me why a youth is sent here in the stead of my brother?"

He felt his youth and inexperience most keenly in that moment, uncertain how best to begin his tale.  For it was clear that no less was required of him.  "I scarce know how to begin, Milady," he said in all honesty.  "The tale is long, and even a summary will take some time in the telling."

"My cooks are preparing even feast as we speak," she said.  "What cannot be told before the meal may be told during it.  Please, begin.  For what is not begun cannot be completed."  She smiled again, warmly, and with a delicate gesture of her hand she underscored her spoken desire for him to tell his tale.

Feeling a most unworthy ambassador, he began.  "You may know, then, the cause for which Lord SilverLeaf founded Erskine?  That some among the wood elves and high elves did not approve of intermarriage between their two peoples?"

She nodded, her intense gaze never wavering.

"By some blessed chance, none among that first generation were tainted by the practices or worship of Hate," he continued.  "When the wars broke out, the Founder feared the gentler nature of the elves who did not follow Hate would eventually cause their defeat.  So he met with the others of the first generation and they jointly established a law binding all members of Erskine to the town itself and the nearby area.  The boundaries described just enough territory to hunt and live, but not so much as to encourage... or, in truth, even permit... contact with any living souls from other towns.  He deemed that, if we withdrew from the rest of the realm then they would forget us and neglect to trouble us."

Lady Aelfiera said nothing, simply continuing her listening pose and watching him.

"For a very long time, that policy seemed to work," the Kiera Paladin continued, though he felt his sorrow begin to touch his heart and voice.  "Sadly, there came a day when our remote location and lack of contact with others failed to protect us from attack."

"Seventy years ago, marauding slavers came and ransacked our beloved town.  We had only a short warning of their coming, and most of the townsfolk fled ahead of their coming and escaped.  Three did not."  He bowed his head, briefly wrestling to regain composure.

"You have come out, then, to seek those three?" the Lady asked.

"One is dead, a newborn destroyed by the slavers at the time they captured his mother," he answered.  "The child's mother, Lord Ardenn's daughter Ygrina, was captured and taken away.  Just before her capture, she sent her young daughter, Legolia, into the woods to hide.  It seems that the young elfess was found weeks later by well-meaning wood elves who took her to live among them.  Lia was seven summers old at that time.  Ygrina did not fare nearly so well."

Aelfiera sat rigid again.  "Legolia was the name of the child elfess who was lost?" she repeated thoughtfully.  "She would be nearly eighty now?"

"Aye," he acknowledged.  "Legolia was my playmate in my youth, and I never ceased to miss her presence."  He felt heat in his face; he knew full well how greatly those words failed to describe the depths of his sentiment toward that fair elfess.  Yet he chose to say no more on that matter. 

"The plight of her mother is worse though, milady," he reminded the regal elfess in whose audience he sat.  "Lady Ygrina was sold into bondage, and has suffered many abuses and violations from that day till this."  A brief pause while he realized, and shared his thoughts aloud, "Unless her ill-usage has caused her death, she has no peace."

"So you took it upon yourself, alone," Aelfiera said archly, "to seek the lost ones?"

"Not entirely alone, Milady," he specified carefully.  "I went with Lord Ardenn's blessing.  My quest is to learn the fates of Lady Ygrina and her daughters."

"Daughters?" Lady Aelfiera asked, sounding more puzzled.  "You had mentioned only one, of whose fate I may have some knowledge."

"Milady, you know aught of Legolia?" he asked softly, with all the respect he could muster to cover his great desire to know.

"First, tell me of this other daughter, and her name," she said.

He inwardly cursed himself for speaking out of turn, though he was half inclined to blame his extreme weariness for the blunder.  Squaring his shoulders, he continued.  "The other was born later, during Ygrina's captivity," he answered, though with some reluctance.  "The child of Ygrina and one of her captors.  One thing I am commissioned to learn is if this second child, Beruthielle, is a being like her mother Ygrina... or if she is a twisted being like her father."

"Know you then aught of where Ygrina may be held?" she asked sharply.

"Aye," he answered, almost hopelessly.  "She languishes within the capitol city of the dark elves."   He had scouted slightly around the environs of that foul city, and learned thoroughly that gaining entrance was well beyond his skill to survive.

The Lady Aelfiera Leafshimmer sat back in her chair.  "Alas for any taken captive into that foul pit of hatred!" she lamented.  "How is it that you have any cause to believe she yet lives?"

"Her husband had remained in contact with her mind for many years," the young Paladin replied.  "His body was broken from attempting to rescue Ygrina at the time of her capture, so he could not try again to go free her.  He thought he heard from her a month ere my departure.  Her mind has been fading, and she may no longer have the strength to project her thoughts far enough to reach him."

"If ye knew the lady lived, why did none set forth sooner?" she demanded.  "Where is the raiding party, the expedition?  One lone paladin can only do so much..."  There was a fire blazing in her dark blue-purple eyes.

"The law was that if any left, they could not return," he said.  "All mourned Lady Ygrina as if dead, believing implicitly that her suffering could not last long.  Surely either her captors, or mayhap she herself, would end her torment in her death.  In time, most seemed to grow accustomed to the situation, accepting her fate though perpetually expecting her death."

"My Lord Ardenn knew his daughter loved life," he continued, "and would be loath to relinquish it.  He had wanted to leave, but the other elders forbade.  He was persuaded, yet never reconciled, to staying.  When I offered to leave, he said nothing during the Council.  Yet as soon as Council was ended, he sent for me and gave me his blessing... along with other gifts, including this armor that you see me wearing."

Lady Aelfiera Leafshimmer nodded thoughtfully as the first summons to even feast chimed.  Her head came up as the sound registered.  "You will be shown to a room where you may prepare," she said, clapping her hands.  "We do not attend even feast in arms," she informed him with a significant glance toward his armor.

A page in livery of the household came to answer her summons.  "Show this honored guest to the Tamarack room," she said.  "He will be joining us for even feast, and we shall not begin without him."

The page appeared mildly surprised, both in manner and in his carefully respectful reply. "Milady remembers that the Tamarack room is in the family wing?"

She smiled as she answered the page.  "I find no deceit in him.  As my brother's apprentice and intended grandson by marriage, I deem it fitting that he should reside within the family wing."

The Paladin again felt heat in his face, much stronger than formerly.  He felt the heat spread to his neck and ear tips.  "Milady!" he began, but fell silent at a gesture from her. 

"I know my brother," she said softly, through another smile.  "He would not bestow his armor upon any unworthy."

Not knowing aught else to do, he bowed deeply to her again.  The heat had not yet left his face.  Obeying her gesture, he followed the page to the specified room.  As he entered, the page bowed and withdrew.

It was a corner room on the ground floor.  Tall windows in each outer wall permitted daylight to enter freely.  The furnishings seemed all made of the same hardwood, and the tapestries depicted trees in differing seasons. 

In spring, the trees were covered in the paler green of new leaves.  In summer, they bore the deeper green associated with evergreens.  In autumn, the foliage was golden and brown; in winter, the trees were shown with uplifted branches bare of foliage.  "Ah, named after Tamarack trees," he realized.

As with the other portions of the house he had already seen, this room was filled only adequately with items both functional and exquisite.  He opened his pack to seek the only formal robe he owned, another gift from Lord Ardenn SilverLeaf.  He found it, and laid it out on the bed in a forlorn (and probably futile) hope that it might unwrinkle. 

About that time, the page returned with a pitcher of steaming water.  The Paladin thanked the page, and set the pitcher beside the waiting basin.

Sighing wearily, he shed his armor.  Pouring the steaming water into the basin, he washed and dried himself with the cloths hung near the basin for that purpose.  He carefully unbraided his ebon hair and quickly brushed it out till it shone.  Then he reached for clean under linens and for his robe.

Feeling awkward, he put on the silken robe for the first time.  It was an unusual weave, both of silvery-grey silk threads and softly flexible threads that, on close inspection, looked to the eye as if made of silver wire.  Broidered vines and leaves adorned throat, cuffs and hem in a deep evergreen thread.  Almost miraculously the robe hung properly without wrinkles.  As his only ornament, he put on the medallion that Lord Ardenn had given him as a means of enhanced telepathic communication between them.  There was no time to make a report, however.  That would have to wait till after the meal.

At just that moment the page knocked on his door again, offering to lead him to the meal room. 

The Paladin accepted the offer and followed through more hallways to a room that appeared almost like a forest at sunrise or sunset.  Plentiful beeswax candles lent both light and a pleasing scent.  They were scattered about the room almost like fireflies among the branches of the illusory trees carved into the walls.  He paused a moment to examine the walls, and found they were formed of varying shades of carved, colored marble.  Browns for the trunks, greens for the leaves or grass, beige for the winding "paths" on the walls and floor... the work of a master craftsman, or a troupe of master craftsmen.

The long central table was made of a hardwood with which the Kiera was unfamiliar.  The grain was accentuated by a glaze, which also protected the wood from any spills that may occur.

He was led to a seat of honor at the right hand of the Lady Aelfiera Leafshimmer.  He nearly declined, but was encouraged to stay.  Across from him sat a pair of Koada that strongly resembled the Lady.  The first had a bewildered, lost expression on her fair face, and eyes blue as sapphires framed by wheat-golden hair.  Upon her brow was a ruby carved into the shape of a heart.  The second maiden's hair was almost golden, yet with hints of russet in its depths.  Her eyes were nearly amethyst in color, and the gem upon her brow was a deeper purple. 

There was an empty seat beside her, followed by a human seating a wood elf man with dark brown hair and eyes of an even deeper blue than those of the first elfess.  Also like her, this man appeared lost or bewildered.  The human woman accompanying him had a shield-shaped face framed by unusually pale brown hair.  Others took their places, one by one.  The chair between Galadri and the bewildered wood elf gentleman remained vacant.

Lady Aelfiera began introductions.  The first two ladies to her left were her granddaughters, Abree and Galadri Leafshimmer.  The bewildered elf was Kolya Evergreen, tended by Eowenna Celerdain.  Lady Aelfiera mentioned, as part of the introduction, that Lady Eowenna was a paladin like himself, whose training and experience would place her as his senior in the profession... even though she was slightly less than his age in years.  The human had the grace to blush, murmuring a polite thanks to her hostess for the high praise.

Beyond Eowenna sat two more humans: a young woman called Keleen, and then a man called Fayhde.  On the other side of the table, next to the Kiera, sat a very young Barbarian child.  She was introduced to him as Mercey McLaird.  Beside her sat her mother Ldari, and then her father Meerc.  Last on his own side of the table were two members of the feline race, Pouncibelle and Scre Starwhisper.  The young paladin noted that same "lost" expression could be seen on the face of the male Vah Shir as he had seen on Abree, Kolya, Fayhde and Meerc.  He wondered at this mystery, but asked no questions for the present.

Lady Aelfiera, upon completing introductions, turned to Galadri.  "Do you know if she will be joining us this even?" she asked softly.

"I think she meant to, but she has only just returned," her grand daughter replied, equally softly.  "Mayhap she is not yet ready?"

His heart pounding within his breast, he wondered if the missing lady was the one he had followed to this house earlier.  None currently at the table bore any resemblance to her.

The Lady of the house turned toward him.  "Yes," she said, as if she had heard or guessed his thoughts, "Legolia lives here now." 

Her voice lowered to a softer pitch, intended for his ears alone.  "However, I should warn you... her spirit has been injured."  A rustle was barely heard, echoing in a hallway leading to the dining chamber.  "Deal gently with her," Lady Aelfiera said, then turned to look toward the doorway from whence the echo seemed to emit.  There was no question in the young Paladin's mind but that the last words were an order.  Disobedience would have consequences.

He felt it a needless order, knowing full well that he was incapable of being aught else than gentle toward Legolia.  He nodded none the less, as courtesy required.  He felt the added burden of the Lady's watchfulness weighing him down nearly as much as his own physical weariness.

Scarce had his nod completed, when the elfess appeared in the doorway.  The candle light caressed her, and caused a tear-trail upon one cheek to shine.  Her shield-shaped face was slightly pale, yet she tried to smile as she stepped quickly and nearly soundlessly to her seat. 

She was also clad in silk, though her gown was formed of much deeper greens than those of her hostess and family.  She murmured a soft apology to Lady Aelfiera, curtseyed, and then gracefully claimed the chair that waited for her.

Lady Aelfiera rose and began a prayer of thanksgiving, though the young Paladin could scarce hear the formal yet sincerely spoken words.  He felt his weariness melt away.  He was almost mesmerized, enchanted by the sight of the elfess he had so long feared lost. 

Even seeing her, so briefly, some months back... he had known, then, he had no right or power to hold her.  Yet it had torn at him to let her go.  Now, beyond all he'd dared hope, she sat across a table from him.  In a noble house where he was also invited to live.

He bowed his head and offered up a silent, yet sincerely grateful, prayer of his own.

His Quest Continues...

The young Elf Paladin awoke early for his morning devotions and prayers, as was his usual habit.  He offered up many fervent prayers of thanksgiving, followed by equally fervent prayers of supplication.

His heart remained grieved by evidences of Legolia's suffering.  At the same time, oddly enough, his heart was gladdened as he saw her high elven cousins caring for her and supporting her as she struggled to heal.  Of the three lost ones, the one he had most longed to rediscover was found.  Though wounded in her spirit, she was safe.

The muscles surrounding his elegantly pointed ears tightened slightly as he caught the faintest whisper of a footstep.  Had it been less perfectly silent, or had his window not been wide open, or had he not been paused between prayers, he should never have heard it.  But he did hear.  And in the instant of hearing, he knew.

Leafshimmer House was built in the shape of a hollow rectangle with an opening on one of the longer sides.  The house enclosed an elegant courtyard garden.  His corner room faced both that enclosed courtyard and the opening in the house's otherwise complete hollow rectangle.  The faint, nearly subliminal sound had come through a window facing the opening.  Near that window an exterior staircase ran from the upper level's rooms to the inner courtyard.

That scarcely heard step was none other than the light tread of the lady ranger who had captured his imagination.

He had been listening for her partly because he knew that her spirit or mind had been injured.  He was concerned for her safety with the growing strength of some of those violent creatures that threatened the safety of the Elvish realm.  How could she guard herself adequately while distracted by such pain?

His prayers of supplication had primarily been that he should be enabled to guard her as much as was needed.  He looked out his window, toward the sound he thought he'd heard, and saw her descending the stairs.  Taking that sight so soon after his prayer as a sign, he left his room by way of the door to the courtyard.

He followed her to the inner courtyard's garden area.  He had been surprised to discover that it sheltered a wide variety of plant life.  Roughly a third of the area was paved with stones, arranged to provide an area for any outdoor festivities the family might choose to host.  The remaining two thirds were made up into a garden with cunningly winding paths that led to sculptures, fountains, or benches where one might rest and pray or quietly contemplate the beauties of nature.

Unfortunately, he was not appreciating the beauty of variety of the plant life that flourished there.  His first thought, and concern, was that he had lost sight of Legolia.  Knowing not whence the winding garden trails led, he trod swiftly as he untied the peace knots that bound his worn sword to its sheath.

Suddenly a dry twig snapped behind him.  He startled, spinning and half-drawing his sword.

The young Paladin had formed no clear idea of what he expected to see when he heard that twig snap.  The sight that met his eyes was certainly not on his list of possibilities, however.  Flushing with embarrassment, he slid his sword back into its sheath as unobtrusively as possible.  He bowed more deeply than strictly required for the sake of courtesy.  When he straightened, the view that met his wondering eyes remained identical to what he had seen prior to his hastily executed bow.

Legolia released both halves of the dry twig she had snapped in two to catch his attention, only a few heartbeats earlier.  They drifted down to the ground, unheeded.  She tipped her head slightly to one side as she considered him, a thoughtful expression in her amethyst eyes.  "Pardon, milord," she said softly.  "I had not meant to alarm you so greatly."

"I was but startled," he answered quickly.  "I had not expected to find anyone... behind me."  He instantly wished the last two words unsaid, but unflinchingly met her steady gaze with equal steadiness.

Did he only imagine it, or was there a mischievous glint in her eyes?  She spoke again in that same soft, respectful tone ere he could be sure what he had (or had not) seen.

"The trails in this garden can be confusing," she said gently, "until one learns them."  She paused briefly, then offered, "May I introduce you to their ways, that you shan't be misguided by them in the future?"

He readily assented, and sooner than he thought possible he had become master of the general layout of that enclosed garden.  His fair companion spoke little beyond emphasizing the exceptionally wide variety of plant life that grew there.  He learned some of the history of the garden, including that some of those plants would have ceased to be seen anywhere, had it not been for seeds and sprouts originating in that very garden.

The Paladin was intrigued, and not entirely because of Legolia's presentation.  He had always known, instinctively, that elves had not been the only casualties of their lengthy and intense civil war.  Today, thanks to the Leafshimmers being seed-keepers, he was seeing some of the nearly lost species for the first time.

The sun was fully up by this time, though the morning was not yet old.  There was a stir in the central gathering area.  He looked askance toward his fair companion.

"The guards of House Leafshimmer," she informed him in answer to his unspoken question.  Further inquiry yielded the information that two shifts practiced arms every morning, and the other two shifts practiced each evening.

He saw the human knight, Eowenna, among them.  Indicating her with a gesture, he inquired, "Has Lady Eowenna chosen to serve in the House Guard?"

"Nay," Legolia replied.  "She joins the morning exercise to keep her skills honed, and to challenge the guards to improve.  Do you care to observe?"

"Aye," he said thoughtfully, recalling Lady Aelfiera's high praise of the human.  "I think I may."

They moved to a bench at the edge of the area paved with flagstones.  The human paladin, who had achieved the rank of knight before her eightieth year, appeared very different this morning than she had yester eve.  He was both curious and somewhat skeptical.  How could a mere human make such a highly favorable impression upon an elder elfess?

Instead of her flowing sky-blue gown, this morn Eowenna wore a fitted wine-colored leather vest over brown leather leggings.  Soft leather boots covered her feet, her pale brown hair was bound into a long braid that reached slightly past her waist, and an elaborate hilt protruded from the sheath bound to her left hip.  Her arms, left bare, were well-muscled without having developed excessive bulk.

He watched the lady knight go through a few stretches, and was surprised to see that she moved almost as gracefully and swiftly as an elfess.  He leaned toward Legolia and asked in an undertone, "She is human, not half elven?"

"She was orphaned young," Lia said, "so little is known of her lineage.  Lady Aelfiera has commissioned researchers to look into the matter.  It does seem that she must have at least one elf among her more recent ancestors."  After a short pause, she inquired, "What would you guess to be her age?"

He considered the question seriously.  There was purpose and vigor in her movements that suggested both youth and maturity.  Her pale brown hair did contain silver strands, but they were few.  Her face wore a half-frown of concentration, but not the creases of age.  Her skill was indeed high, again implying maturity rather than youth. 

"Were I to guess," he said at last, "I would surely guess amiss.  I have not studied the aging patterns of humans sufficiently to guess accurately.  Were she an elfess, I might guess her age as somewhere between 150 and 200 years.  Yet I think humans age somewhat more quickly than we do?"

"Yes, much," she said.  "I have not yet heard of any human that lived to be 200 years of age.  They reach physical maturity roughly four times as swiftly as our kind.  Then they hold fairly stable for two or three decades, and finally they decline."

"Four times as swiftly?" he asked, surprised.  He had known that humans aged faster, but he had not realized it was so extreme a difference.  Seeing her nod, he accepted her words.  "In that case, the lady might be approximately thirty to fifty years of age?"

"Not a bad guess," Lia approved, "nearer than most.  Though, as you already noted, this particular human bears elvish blood.  She is aging almost like a half elven.  She is said to be seventy-three, though she appears roughly half that age.  Some say she had no grey in her hair at all till... until Kolya was lost to us."

He did not miss the way her voice changed as she mentioned Kolya.  He remembered the wood elf gentleman who had sat between Eowenna and Legolia at even feast.  He remembered that he was one of the ones with a vacant expression who had been very carefully tended.  One who would sometimes react, but seemed never to initiate any actions for himself.  A quick glance showed him how her jaw trembled as her downcast eyes stared at her fingers twisting in her lap without seeing them.

He wanted to ask some of the many questions welling up inside him, but reconsidered as he saw that she remained distraught.  So instead of asking those questions, he asked, "Do you ever join the guards in their practice, as Lady Eowenna does?"

She looked up, blinked rapidly several times, then finally managed a wan smile.  "Yes," she said.  "Would you like to join also? They are nearly done, though Lady Eowenna and mayhap one or two others may stay if we do."

He nodded, then followed her to the captain who distributed practice swords to each of them.  After a few quick warm-up exercises, they joined the guards workout / training sessions.  As Lia had forewarned, the House Guard was nearly finished with their standard morning routine.  The guards were paired to practice attacks, defenses, parrying and counter-attacks.  Lady Eowenna and the Captain moved among the trainees, offering instruction or suggestions as they saw the need.

The two Kiera formed a pair, mostly because all guards were already in pairs.  Privately, Favian preferred facing Lia to facing an unknown guard.  The instructions were to alternate which one attacked, so each could get practice with both offense and defense.  Their fighting styles differed signifigantly, yet both were effective and capable.

Ere long the Captain clapped his hands and proclaimed the end of the standard practice, though he invited any who wished to feel free to linger.  Lady Eowenna immediately moved to a bench, looking pale and winded.  Lia rushed to her side; he followed close behind.

Lia sat beside the lady knight, taking one hand.  "Milady, you overtax yourself," she chided gently.  "None will think less of you if you only instruct - especially now."

The effects of the elfess' words upon her friend were immediate.  She crossed her arms, wrapped her arms around herself, and bowed her head.  "Why must every private event in my life be so completely public?" she asked, with a tremor in her voice that held nothing of fear but much of pain.  Tears slipped down her cheeks.  Lia laid a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

Realizing that he was barely an acquaintance to them, he backed away to give the two friends a little privacy.  He stayed near enough to discourage anyone else from interrupting them, but not so near as to overhear their softly spoken words.  He stayed within sight, barely.

After a time Lia's efforts were rewarded by her friend regaining composure.  Eowenna excused herself and went into the house; Lia returned to his side.

"Is she unwell?" he asked, concerned.

"Her firstborn son came yesterday afternoon, only two hours before even feast," Lia said.  "Even a pureblood elfess does not recover that quickly.  She needs her strength, to tend both father and son."

"Who is the father?" he asked.

"Kolya," she whispered.

Remembering the pain that Lia had shown when last that name was mentioned, he desired a change of subject quickly.  "What do you normally do after practice?" he asked.

Her amethyst-colored eyes turned toward him.  "I hunt," she said simply.

"Please show me?" he invited.

She nodded and led him out of the city gates and a few steps toward the center of the surrounding woods.   Then, rather abruptly, she stopped short.  Her head snapped around, and she darted behind the nearest tree.

He followed, reflexively reaching for his sword's hilt.  He was most surprised by the sight that met his eyes as he caught up with her.

Lia stood with her dagger at the throat of a high elfess in a turquoise robe.  "Who are you," the fair young ranger hissed, "that you would don the guise of a high elf to enter our capitol?  What is your business here?"

"I wear their form out of respect," the startled stranger replied in soft, musical tones.  She looked thoroughly startled and bewildered.  A few strands of her fine flaxen hair drifted across her face, moved by a nearly undetectable breeze.  She stood perfectly still.  "They prefer to see only their own kind, so 'tis less disruptive to their peace if I appear as one of them."

As the stranger spoke, his eyes were drawn to her face.  He did a double-take, and then looked at her closely yet again.  Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated on remembering first the paintings and then the sight of the woman during his youth... could it be?  It seemed so unlikely, yet...

With a snarl, Lia slapped the woman.  Her action startled her companion no less than the stranger.  With the back swing, Lia snatched at the clasp of the stranger's cloak and tore it free.  "Dark elf!" she accused.  "I know the meaning of this badge!"

As his gaze turned from Lia's actions back to the other woman's face, he saw an expression of pain that made him wonder again if she might not be someone he'd known.  Was that a tear on the stranger's cheek?

He caught Lia's wrist, preventing her from completing her swing of what would surely have been a death blow.  The woman had not resisted in any way; she had only closed her eyes.  Lia, on the other hand, writhed furiously within his grasp.

When the expected blow did not land, the stranger's eyes opened slowly.  As her pale blue eyes turned toward him quizzically, a name came unbidden from his lips.  As she heard him utter that name, Lia's struggles abruptly ceased and she also stared in wide-eyed wonder.

"Ygrina?"