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Eldarim Amandil Hirao ...of the stars great multitude, a priest student... | |||||
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Introduction
Family: Natulien [.net - .TOO - .lee - .en] Ancestry: Wood Elf, Dark Elf Base Class: Amandil Priest Brief Character Description: An intensely loyal but quiet young elf haunted by her heritage and memories, with silvered hair and amber eyes. As implied she is of mixed blood, but that is part of her story. In many ways she is a contradiction.
It was at one of these performances that Elexia first saw me on the trapeze - she met me in the crowd following a performance as I held my smile despite my exhaustion. We became close friends over the years, though it had begun as fanhood. I ignored my father’s advice to avoid cultivating close friendships beyond the group - what could one, in the place where I spent the most time, hurt? My friendship with Elexia deepened as I wintered the passing years in the village and shared stories of my travels, and other more personal matters. I could feel Elexia dreaming of the stories I told and longing for the adventure that she heard in my tales of daily experience and far away places. I tried my best to salve the false wanderlust I inspired. One day she decided to share her own story…. I listened rapt as Elexia told a tale of dark prophecy, a slim chance of hope with dire consequences some would fear and few would accept. Tears were in my eyes as I heard of the sacrifice the grandfather had made. Her story was interrupted by a door opening to admit her brother, looking every bit as handsome I had dreamt and whispered about to Elexia for the past few months. He strode quickly to where we were sitting and quieted his sister placing a hand over her mouth, and bid me leave with a glare in his eyes that instantly rebuilt the icy walls in my heart that Elexia had helped chip away. The months passed, and whenever I tried to see Elexia, I would find him…. Still, I looked for her those first few weeks as I climbed the ladder, used to the easy wave - now I waved at no one. That first time, I nearly fell during a new routine. Afterward when my father approached in his usual silent manner, I turned away, tears hazing my vision. He did not follow me, indeed he had not the right to - though I called him father. He knew that I would tell him when I was ready. The key members of the troupe had grown beyond my adopted father and myself to include a true bard and a skilled marksman. Practice was intense, and I used it to bury my loss behind the facade of performance. Even so I could not forget my only friend, nor the story she had told me. One night amidst the troupe, whilst at a camp along our performance route, I retold it, solely wanting to feel her presence again. An ephemeral silence greeted my conclusion, broken by the suggestion that we use it as a closing piece in our last two performances of the season. Despite my reservations about singing, they insisted that I tell the tale with the bard and my father singing accompaniment and counterpoint. I would sing and act the main while our young protégé Lark and the others dramatized the narrative.
Despite all the evil tendencies they claimed, they still enjoyed a good tale…, and some of the best came from light elven hands and throats. He watched as the young trapeze girl with her silver hair descended. A smirk of amusement crossed his face as he watched her, wondering if any others here could see. In her hair was her heritage obvious to him. She began to sing, a good but refreshingly untrained voice he noted and tuned the story out - he had heard them all before…; he had stopped counting his age almost a century past. He turned to enjoy the sweet wine and ponder the intriguing future when something about the tale caught his attention. He listened to the narrative, trying to ignore the melodious harmony the bard was inspiring to accompany her untrained voice; he freed his emotions from the grasp of the song and keened his ear. As he listened his smile faded. Aye, it wasn’t the same, but his ear heard a tale that should have been long forgotten; the prophecy had died by his hands almost a century past, with the last of its wretched spawn. He looked at the young halfbreed again - he would find out where she had learned this tale before the night was out.
I was surprised that I had nodded off over the last couple miles. Climbing out of the wagon, I saw that the light had faded past ruddy dusk. The groans and sounds of the caravan setting up for the night were damped by the rustling canvas. I felt a hand tentatively sneak into mine, and glanced down to find my ever present shadow. I forced a tired smile, remembering that I had been much the same age when father had welcomed me. I knelt so that I was a head shorter than my traveling companion and spoke. “Hey Lark…, while they’re setting up why don’t we go look at the stars…. Marrs know, neither of us can cook….” We grinned at each other conspiring to maintain that small fallacy, fondly sharing the memory of the exquisitely planned blunder that had barred us from the cooking fire. We ventured slightly beyond the circular perimeter, to watch the tears of Luclin flare in stark contrast to the depths of space. Sighing, I tried to stretch my legs, watching as Lark stared at the sky. She’s as silent as father always was, I thought to myself. When he’d take me out here…. “Hey see that one? I pointed toward the one father had first shown me. That one’s the Harper…and over there…” My words jarred to a halt as I heard her second full sentence since our departure. But for me, only the gods knew how this poor child must feel - she’d joined the troupe only to see us fall apart, though father had lost the joy in the business at about the same time I did mine a few months prior. “Sorry, I missed that what for my clashing voice.” Liren smiles gently. “Eldarin…the harper’s name is Eldarin. There’s a group that named themselves after him near where I live….” Her mouth clamped tight again, remembering that I was taking her home, as she had asked, the night the troupe dissolved. “Hey, who do you think the Harper was named after?” Lark looked at me inquisitively as I waved my hands before her. “Don’t look at me, I don’t know the answer….” Lark grinned. “Neither do I - let’s get some rest - I can introduce you to my brother tomorrow - he wants to be a famous bard like you.” “Hey you know I’m no bard…, ah, but he doesn’t know that, does he?" Her grin widened as she saw that I recognized her ploy and was willing to play along. I should have known what was coming next but was just happy to hear her relaxing again. “Liren…, but that story…?” I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. Aye…, that story…, looking at her, I could almost see the face of the girl whom had told me. Such a brief time ago - two months - my heart would always remember her and the story she told me. Liren’s eyes begin to glaze. Elexia, I didn’t know…., I didn’t…. I broke the reverie off and looked down at Lark. “Aye, I suppose I do sing at times, but your voice is by far better. Why don’t we get something to eat and hit the hay so we won’t have dustbags to complement the dust when we meet your brother tomorrow.” In truth, I was too numb to rest, reliving the events around the story I had retold. I vowed yet again to never perform it, as i had ever since that one had cornered me after my last performance. Even though my memory had mostly returned, I still didn’t know how he separated me from the group, but I remember that there was no one - not a soul in sight… no one, but him.
A few of the audience even approached; I held my breathe in anticipation. While performing I had, by necessity, learned to be oblivious. As a performer, I had mastered my face and voice. As for me…, my heart betrayed my fear until a friendly clap on the back would send it stuttering into my ribs. And I had feared being eaten…. Yet they could only express their emotions through actions. True, actions that my ribs protested and would leave bruises for the next week, but still heartfelt; For my heart knew theirs. ‘Twas the rare opportunity of a lead performer to see the side of a community usually ensconced by their culture,' or so father and the others would say. Performers held a degree of immunity, but that did not delay our preparation to leave Freeport. I was untangling a knot in the safety net I was stowing, when I felt someone watching me. I looked up see that I was alone….completely and utterly alone…except for…, and found myself thralled to his ruby irises, barely noticing the answers I gave to the questions he posed. “Did you learn the tale you retold along your performance route? From whom and when did you learn the tale you told.” ”From a friend….an elven girl a six-month past. “How old was this child, and what was her name? Does she have siblings?” He frowned as he saw me struggle to resist. “Perhaps I should have made this stronger, but there is no time, and I have my answer. Again I ask and you must answer; When did you meet her along your route?” “Four years past…” As my father’s presence broke the link, I felt the anger in the flashing red eyes, but could do nothing to warn father as I heard an unrecognizable phrase in my true father’s native tongue. “I was just congratulating her on a job well done, though she declined my offer for my personal employment. Soon you will, you will be free, Mistfalcon.” I felt my heart try to answer, ‘but I don’t want to be free.’ as he bowed his leave, my world shimmering to darkness to feel my father’s arms cradle me to his bewildered heart. The Recent Winter Father and I changed significantly after that - it was a quiet trip back home. Neither did we find joy in our continued practice despite the recent addition of another young voice in Lark. The rest of the troupe didn’t understand my withdrawel, and would practice with Lark taking my place. It was part of the reason the troupe began to fragment - yet I refused to perform. At first I could not remember why I was so adamant, but in time it came back to me…. When it did, I told father what had happened, and he would no longer permit even Lark to practice the story.
He joined another riding towards the woods, and then stopped and gestured to me. As I mounted behind him, I was distinctly aware of the maelstrom of emotions that battled within the other’s heart. We cantered in silence to a now abandoned camp, the ground stripped and muddied. I sat quivering on the horse’s back as I saw the torn and tortured body of my friend. A friend whom had told a story almost a year past as I was preparing to leave on tour. The story had come full circle. The pyres built, father helped me dismount and the other handed me a torch. I stood beside the pyres, the torch in my hand, as I looked upon the face of the second - my friend’s younger sister was barely recognizable. She has…, had…, two siblings, my mind said numbly, where was the third? I could still feel their hope, their fear, and their pain even in death. "I’m sorry Elexia…I didn’t know, I didn’t….please …forgive me." ”Amin hiraetha.” I am sorry ”Seere mellonamin, seere. Peace my friend, peace. Lle fainaya’lye a’yannarim en seere?” Would you release us to the peaceful lands? I saw the flame pass from torch to pyre and sank to the ground, my hands empty before me, but for a wooden ring Elexia had given me. As I hugged my hands to my chest I felt the whisper…. ”Lindaya ten’lye er tella coiasira, lirimaer”? Would you sing for us one last time, lovely one? And though it started as a keen, a song rose from the depths of my heart to accompany my friends on our only journey together. “Vanya sulie, sulsalkan…” Fair Winds, Winddancer “Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta utua lle au’.”My heart shall weep until it finds thee again. “Namaarie.” Farewell.
I had told him that I would honor his request and accompany Lark home - he would have me wait a week to travel with a caravan to span the almost month-long travel to ward off those whose hearts had turned foul to even entertainers and merchants. And now..., now that week was gone. I felt him before he entered the room, his heart speaking through his silence. “Come back and visit me Liren, you have been the daughter I have never had… albeit a small one…” He grinned at me and gently brushed aside my silver tresses to fondly cup my cheek. I had learned the nuances in his tones, and went to give him a hug, to be picked up, as usual, and swung about like the child I had never had the chance to be. “I think this may be the last of our exploits together - the times, they are changing - and the land grows cold and bitter even as the Showers of Luclin Pale. Take care and keep both you and Lark safe in your journey. Maybe it will give you a chance to think about your past - you need to deal with it. You are still young even by human standards, and though I am now graying, you will have a long life ahead of you. I know you better than you think…. You are scared - just like that first time we practiced on the trapeze, but you did it by taking a single step. True, true your eyes were closed.” He smiled gently. “But you took that step. Perhaps this is the next. Alluve dalharin.” “Farewell father.” I waved to him as the caravan started to grind into motion, and felt a hand take mine. Early Summer Midnight, The Present I glanced over at the one whom had taken my hand. Lark was sleeping peacably, curled in the blankets beside me, the flickers of the fire playing with the shadows on her face. I brushed the straggle of hair out of her lidded eyes, and she murmured slightly as she felt my touch. I smiled and lay back to count the stars and drown my thoughts in their multitude. Early Summer Pre-Dawn, The Present. Lark woke at the strangled cry. She sat up, bewildered and confused until she felt the tossing form of Liren nearby caught in the throws of a dream. Lark knelt, the blanket falling from her bare shoulders to her waist, her chest wrapped in the cotton cloth Liren had taught her how to wear. She untangled the blanket from Liren’s limbs and sat beside her to wipe the dampness from her brow. She watched as the face contorted, and vowed not to interfere. She had heard what had happened - and knew some of what tormented her friend. For now she would just keep her company. She leaned forward to wipe the sweat from Liren’s brow and whispered soothingly into her ear. Liren’s face calmed and her motions quieted, Lark by her side. Liren felt the presence and was grateful though she did not wake. Lark, her eyes still heavy, opened the satchel Liren carried and began to leaf through her friend's journal, noticing that the letter from Liren's human father that had caught up with them while they had awaited the ferry was as yet unopened. Setting it aside, she began to read her friend's careful script.
I found myself looking into the angry face of my sister…my elder by ten years whom I had not seen for almost five. She had my mother’s eyes and father’s coloring, as I had our father’s hair and mother’s coloring. She had left five years ago, with my father. Five years apart, and now she pinned me with a dagger at my throat. “Where is your mother…, where is Gdienya…hmmn?” “I don’t know, I think she might be praying…,” “Praying…, who would she be praying for? “Father” I spoke into the deafening silence, and writhed uncomfortably, the fever still heating my blood. “You should know the truth…and since we have some time, let me tell you his story. Oh and don’t move too much…there is a poison on this blade… that I don’t think you would like too much. A quite appropriate one if I may say so, it is essentially painless, not that you would be able to feel anything, but at the same time that it dulls your physical senses, it will heighten the emotional and intuitive. Gdienya will finally understand what I have felt.”
Regardless of their appearance and expertise, little could stand before the force of our masters. There was another reason we spied upon our breathren guarding the gates. They had once been our kin before heeding our masters call to service - they had lived and toiled with the rest of us, but their ambition freed them. In them we saw our hope and our opportunity to rise above the life our parents knew. Guarding the gates was their first task. Sporadically we would see some of those attackers join our village as consorts to one of my lir cousins. Inevitably, their attempt to escape would fail, for we lir knew our loyalties. Nevertheless, at times the masters needed to replenish the supply of vessels from which to drink. As my father so often ranted - we learned to be loyal to those whom proved themselves trustworthy - it was a bond we all valued, but a slow one to cultivate. My parents were content in their places, but, I was not. Perhaps that is why my parents were so displeased when they were notified that I was being considered for the training required to undergo the pledge ritual. This particular day, we arrived upon the ledge in time to see another group battling their way deeper towards their own demise. They passed the graveyard and turned not towards the castle ramparts but rather up the steep trail leading towards the boxcanyon that enclosed our village and its fields. We abandoned our perch as we saw their course and ran the mile path to arrive in a breathless sprint. It was a group of Fier’dal, so they had been named; they stood in the village before the council. My father was in the crowd, and a Fier’dal was by his side crying. It was probably my father’s new consort - there had been rumors of one for months. I spent little time at home at that point, content amongst my pack of prospectants. Even when I was there, he was always in the private sector of the infirmary, where they were nursed back to health. She carried a young infant in her arms. How pitiful…, she looked, for she must know that this group would never make it back out, and that the castle would rally even the masters now that their food supply was threatened. None had even been so bold as to venture here. As my breathing stilled, the leader of this illfated party spoke, his words filtering through the drum of the pulse in my veins. “Any of you whom wish to come with us please do so, but do so now. Again I say, we have nothing against you, nor are we here seeking revenge….” He turned towards my father. “Come if you would, sister, we cannot tarry.” The elf at my father’s side stepped forward, paused and turned, her fingers finding my fathers…. I watched in disbelief as she led my father to his certain death. My world turned red and I found myself attached to his other hand, furiously keeping the wretched thing from touching me. I would not despoil myself, but neither did I wish to see my father walk so complacently to his death. When I finally felt my battle won, my vision returned to see a land that I had never seen before - a deep forest shrouded in shadows. I looked to my father with joy in my eyes, to see him embracing the wretch that had dragged him through the danger. I pushed her, yes, Gdienya, away from him and stood before him, cutting off my father’s objection. “Who are you to dare so much to risk my jehan and leave my Jehana behind, though my thanks for our freedom, my name is Vilaeyn.” “Laeynam-?” I could not abide being called by my mother’s pet name for me… so I cut her off. I watched in smugness as I saw the bewildered smile around her eyes fall. Late Fall, A Seven-year Past Laeynamin? “No damn it, my name is….” Vilaeyn had grown so fervant in her retelling, that she did not at first realize that she had heard my mother’s voice. Gdienya had opened the door some minutes before and now stood leaning against the doorframe. Leayn glanced sharply up and away from me scoring the tip of the dagger across my skin. At first I didn’t notice everything becoming more and more dreamlike, but when i did, I could no longer distinguish the nightmare from reality.
“If you must…. I am sorry that we parted ways - I saw much of myself in you Laeyn.” “You know nothing, do you hear me….nothing. you don’t know what it was like. I hate you, I hate this place. I…” Her eyes narrow. “I will….” Her hand tightens on the dagger and then hesitates as she sees the blood, already dulling the blade. She whirled to catch Giddy across the cheek a moment before her hand sent the dagger whirling out of her grasp, to score her leg as it fell. She gasped pinned beneath Giddy’s knee. “Aye, well do I remember the day of which you spoke - my heart has been shattered ever since. I had thought I had lost you forever, Laeynamin. Vae said the same - he had not realized that the training had progressed so far. He stopped by to tell me he was going to try to return and find that necklace you had given me.” She shakes her head. “…no, had given your mother so many years ago.” “It was my most prized possession - it was your sixth birthday, and you had been collecting smalls garnets for days, staying up late dulling your jehan’s tools to bore a hole through each of the stones. We were passing between a tower and a small lake when I felt the tearing in my back as a dying gargoyle slipped past. The necklace tore and the stones scattered, but with the gate in sight, I could not give up our freedom - even for that - though for you sake, I wish I had.” “I am so sorry my daughter, but I couldn’t let you kill your sister…. You never knew that did you - that you truly do share your blood.” “…but your color….” “…was an illusion, an illusion I held till that day we escaped, and you saw my brother pointing towards a Fier’dal you thought was your father’s consort. You railed against him for leaving your mother behind, and would not hear the truth. We tried to tell you so many times. Even as he left, Vae had said that he would try to help you see, and that one day he would bring you home to me. But not like this…, not like this. “Here....” She sets a stone before her daughters face. “I would return this to you, he died bringing this back so that you could know me - it was the only one he could find.” She looks distracted at her hand, and flexes it woodenly, feeling her daughter begin to accept. Strange, how she was so sure, she thought to herself as she let her up. Laeyn stood stiffly and turned to stumble into Giddy’s arms with tears in her eyes. “Mother…, I have missed you so….” “Oh no…no…, no…,NO…!” Laeyn pushed herself away, to stumble towards Liren. She put her mouth to the shallow cut on Liren’s neck, and tried to lance the bile from her sister’s body. Giddy whispered unheard understanding what she was trying to do even as she fell to her knees beside Laeyn too numb to notice the blade slice deeply into her calf…. Laeyn raised her bloody lips and looked at her mother…, And though she said nothing, Giddy heard her heart say, I can do no more…. Laeyn’s eyes widened as she saw the gash on her mother’s cheek. “ Mother…,” “Hush…, tis okay. Look….” She smiles faintly as she sees Laeyn notice the ashen look fading from Liren’s face, even as it grew in their own. They leaned back against the bed, clumsy in their movements. “She will be alright…,” Their hands met clumsily as they glanced down to confirm their location. Laeyn looked up slowly…. “I am holding your hand now…,” and her voice broke, no longer obeying her will. Her eyes met her mothers…. Giddy clumsily held her. “I will be with you, Laeynamin. Liren will be ok. You are the one who needs me now…, we’ll face it together.” Laeyn forced the words from her throat…, “Je…ha…na…, your eyes…I …re..mem…ber …sor..ry.” Giddy leaned forward to kiss her daughter. They shared a breathe and left the world, tears left unshed in their eyes. The spirit moved then, an unvoiced keen in his soul. He touched them both and then the single stone he had found that now rested upon the chest of his remaining daughter. His ephemeral shoulders voiced his sigh. He then turned to join the rest of his family on their journey. He had waited long enough.
When dawn began to dye the eastern sky, I found that I could not remember anything else and so closed the journal, my hand cramping. I noticed that Lark was now using my leg as a pillow, and I was loathe to disturb her, so I lay back and remembered the days that had followed - the days during which I had begun the life as a performer..., and an orphan. I had eventually clambered out of the three day fever to find a new world void of my mother. Friends and community came to offer their condolences…, but I couldn’t understand, not then - I could only feel their fear, their sadness, their relief. Their emotions overwhelmed me, and all I could do was run. And run i had, until I came upon a traveler breaking down his camp. I could no longer remember what I had said through my tears but his words stuck with me, even more vividly now that I suspected that I had lost him too. A Seven-year Past: An Orphan no More. “So what of your parents elf-child - wouldn’t want them tracking me down - tis bad for business. Aye pretty lassses like you are the downfall of many like me; wist and impetuous in the moment and seeking to salt the wounds opened by sharp tongues. So, you running away?” He turns to continue securing the wagon, checking the lashing a final time, and walked towards the waiting horses, fully expecting to hear the usual denial…. She stares at the ground between her feet, and murmurs in a voice barely audible, tinged by the stayed tears, “In a way…, I guess I am…,” She meets his gaze. “…running away…, even my parents would say so, … if they could.” His routine hiccoughed a moment as he sought for words. “I see a lot of you wishing to escape…” “But…, I am telling the truth. I am… I…, I have nowhere else to go. My father…, my mother…, my …sister.” He pats the horses one more time thoughtfully, and silently approaches the crumbling coals, reaching towards the now steaming kettle. Liren follows dejected in his footstep hoping…then despairing. He hears her behind him trying to reign in the sobs. He sighs and sits staring into the flames, his heart softening against his will, and opens his mouth to speak. He was surprised to find her arms swiftly wrapped around him, the grateful sobs on his shoulder making his statement unnecessary. “Hey…, I’ll spill the tea I was making for you…; do you like maple.” Early Summer Dawn, The present For the first time I had responded to the gift Laeyn had unintentionally bequeathed me. It has proved useful in the time since, though it took time to grow accustomed to it. Being able to read my audience without the years of practice - made me a natural performer, but for the fact that too many emotions still unnerved me. I shook my head at the the fonder memories, and reached for the letter Lark had placed between my boots. I fingered its edge, remembering how it had caught up with us while we awaited a ferry to cross the still flooded river. It had been a late spring this year. I opened the envelope someone else had addressed and began to read.
Anyway, I know you dalharel, and Ive watched you grow from a wee lass to a slightly bigger wee lass. I know at times I have treated you like a child - and I hope that you can forgive me my indulgence. I also remember that of which we spoke a morning when you were but a child. Believe in yourself, you are who you are, and try…please try… talking to someone about it. Perhaps it was a mistake for me to respect your silence. We have shared and talked of many things, even your first love, do you remember that lad - nigh twice your height - and you were so focused on doing the perfect flip before him that you almost missed my arms. What applause we shared that day… aye but of course you remember - you stole the show much like my heart.” Talk to someone he had said…. What he didn’t…hadn’t known was that I had and found understanding such as his rare. My mother had made it a point. especially once father had left to tell me stories, and to speak of him, so to grow comfortable with who I was. Until I met my sister that last time I guess I was. I knew however that I would honor my adopted father’s request… I always had, with one exception…. I felt Lark stir against my thigh, and she opened her blurry eyes. “I read your journal….” “I know. I’ll tell you the story on the way, so that you may know the whole. But first let’s pack up so that I may meet your brother. ” |
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high above a drear hemlocked moor faythe to encourage and calling accord energy wards death's spectre to bay... |
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Structure and content by the local webelf, Liren. |