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Eldarim Amandil Hirao ...of the stars great multitude, a priest student... | |||||
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Meeting Eldarele:
”I suppose one could say i have learned to survive, but sleep is an uneasy bedmate, for there the past becomes real and the questions... but that... that past is the story you wish to hear - why rumors whisper - 'as loyal and unpredictable as the mother' and 'as lonely and haunted as the father....' I will ask you now though you know not....what of my sister...?” Liren sighs. “…but where to begin besides with me - i am confused and my trade merely a diversion, for my dreams linger while i'm awake. The dreams kindled by memories. You may take or borrow any item, perhaps with a friendly game of skill.” She smiles as she raises a purse in a hand whose tendons tremble as her gaze refocuses. “Aye..., any, but this. She thumbs the pouch at her hip. For in time I shall find the answers in my journal. I am confused by what i remember - and things i should not - my dreams bespeak my past. She gestures guardedly while studying the palm of her hand. Perhaps tis a remnant of our magic. Again she smiles, but it fades quickly. But what i have seen scares me... I try not to dream... but if you will truly listen....” Her eyes narrow then wander down to stare at the planks near her boot. My father told me the only way was to confront one's fear. That…, at least, is one thing i think my sister did...."
Mook: “I am sure you can find your way around the halls of Eldarel quite easy, have any questions ask of Daltien or myself, and the many others that roam here. I’m sure they will be along soon enough. But for now I must retire, the road has been long and my eyes grow heavy, I hope to see you stick around for awhile and grab a drink, Chiyoness should be at the bar...” Mook whispers to himself that drunkard. With another bow, Mook walks off to his room.
”Even here, Even...” She whispers to herself.
Kiwon: ”oh, hello…” She cocks her head and grins impishly ”I'm Kiwon, who are you?” She skips past, flopping on the floor near the elder druid still watching the new being with a wolf pup’s curiosity. She closes her eyes to hear the sounds repeated again, previously solely the visceral warnings in another of the all too frequent dreams. This time she understands them. ”Oh...my name...” She looks bewildered for a moment. “Liren, Lir....len. “ Her voice trails off and then she smiles slightly, understanding at last. ”Vendui dalninil, and thankyou.”
The chattering of the silverlarks in the crowns of the trees nurse Liren awake. Her eyes open to see the three peaceably awaiting her as they had said they would. She leaps to her feet, hair floating dis-sheveled in the light breeze, nigh panicked - she had wandered here last night deep in her thoughts and had fallen asleep in the sacred grove – for naught else could it be. Her self-recrimination jars to a halt, as she realizes that among the three is the one that had greeted her so suddenly only to retire whilst her thoughts still danced across her face. She finds her eyes locking with his as she tries to hide their trembling. As she becomes aware of the curious glances exchanged between the others, she shunts her eyes away from Mook and takes a breath. “I am honored that you - she gestures to include Namovaryar, Daltien, and Mook - would consider me a recent addition to Eldarel - I hope to bring some aid to these lands of rebirth.” Liren stares at her feet as she traces paths in the fallen leaves and twigs looking noticably uncomfortable. “This - she gestures at the ground encircled within the ancient trees - is so unlike the lands of the other races…. She hesitates and gropes again for something to say, to burst out with: I traveled with them for a time…, and I am…, well, glad…, to now be home.” “You see…, when I was a ch… younger, I left these lands. I joined a performance troupe that had been passing through. My parents would have said I was running….running from myself and the truth….” She cuts off as she hears the bitterness in her voice…. “I learned a lot while traveling with them…. I learned what my parents couldn’t teach me.” Liren begins to visibly relax as she caresses the smooth bark of an elm and swings herself up gracefully to perch somewhat comfortably astride one of its lower branches. “I don’t truly know what path I will likely follow, just how I’ve survived to this point.” “I guess what I am trying to say is that I’m willing to learn from whomever will teach me. I don’t know that I have either the skill in shaping the forces of the land nor the aptitude towards conversing with spirits Her eyebrow twitches as her tone becomes more introspective. well…, that is, …aside from my own. But I am willing to try…” Her face betrays a degree of deliberation as she glances towards Mook, hesitantly meeting his eyes. If at times I seem more reticent, it is because of my past - and the reminders here. Please don’t think ill of me if I am hesitant talking to you - it might take a while for me to get used to some things - not because of any biases - the Marrs know I have been with a varied bunch these past years. I don’t really know what else to say… other than I will try to grace this land as well as those of Eldarel’s present and past.
"Ridiculous, absolutely silly... Perhaps his idea of fun is to crawl into an mildewy haybale and keep an eye on this place. 'Wait and watch he said...', if I had waited any longer, I would have been the new damned ant colony." The main door crashes open, barely in time to dodge the grumbling kick Liren aims at it... "Oh sure a couple farmers and their cows happened by on their way from market, oh, and one of their horses was intrigued by an uncomfortable pile of old hay." She reaches to slam the door closed again to find that even it had alternate plans. Staring blankly at the now jammed door, Liren shoulders fall as she chews her lip "Maybe this is not for me..., I hate the cities - always have, true I had said that I would follow whomever will teach me, but...." "Oh, hello....er um..., did you..., I just saw you walk in a tad bit ago, no? Please, don't mind me..., my training is not going so well. The name is Liren...." Another face eh, and a healer behind it, well, I guess you would probably want to talk to Ashlar. Although come to think of it, I'm not sure that many have followed that path. Let me see if i can go find Mook, I have some things to talk to him about anyway.... It has been a pleasure meeting thee, though i could wish the circumstances were different.... She flips a wayward ant off her arm, and considers the rising welt. "...for both of us. I'm not normally..., oh nevermind, is there anything i could get you before heading out...that is besides a fresh breeze." Liren turns and pauses in the open doorway smiling as a blade of straw frees itself from her silver hair whispering around her face in the light breeze.
A hush ripples through the gathered as the soft spellbinding voice centers on a young elven woman walking unhurried toward what passed for a stage in the small tavern. It was mildly surprising to hear such a gently resonant yet untrained voice from such a slight athletic frame. She leans against the raised platform, her head slightly above those seated, the torchlight gleaming iridescently off her silvered hair, which undulates in the occasional swirl of fresh air. "...Some of you know me.... Though my name is not important, my story is...; for many of us it is our story, our memory, and our calling. It is how we have found one another in the depths of the forest and now run side by side. If you would listen, let me remind you...." The magic of her voice and her story engulfs your consciousness; awash in memory, your story begins.
Your boots become heavy and your breaths hale short. The night had grown and now, no goal, none but for that which pulses through your veins, leaving the bloody taste of fear in your mouth. When had you started running..., you wonder briefly as you run blindly downstream. A low-hanging limb suddenly looming from the darkness before you lifts you from your feet to plunge into the swiftly flowing water. A howl sounds as a pack of eyes follow your movement in the river, their grayish green eyes keen and their tongue’s lolling. Surrendering yourself to the flow of unconsciousness, they shadow your journey on either side of the banks. Pebbles roll beneath your shoulder as the stream urges you back toward your native lands. You drag yourself from the water pooling in the quiet alcove. The wolves flank you, but no longer do their eyes gleam wary. The night had grown old and the light of the moon had faded completely in anticipation of the coming dawn, leaving the stars to watch their own. The forest beckons you to come, and unresisting you comply, sets of paws pacing your lengthening stride. Your feet become light and you breathe easier. Running again, dangerously, a frantic exhilarating pace, dodging trees and branches as you lope past, just inches away..., but towards what? At last you come to a panting halt and fall to the ground scraping your knees and hands. You notice your nose is bleeding, feeling the warm blood trickle over your lips. You raise your hand to wipe the iron tang away and pause staring beyond your hand. You try to rise. A beautiful voice calls - in a lilting tone that wanes to leave a profound silence. A figure rises from her throne - an ash tree that had bent to accommodate her form. Words could not describe her ethereal presence, her hair floating in the light breeze. Lost in the shifting depths of her eyes; her smile nigh shatters your heart. She gracefully beckons you to take her hand and stand beside her beneath the stars of dawn. Hesitating and trembling, you realize that her touch is warm and gentle. A contented peace fills your soul. She gestures toward the canopy of stars above - tracing shapes in the air. Following her gaze, shapes begin emerging with her subtle movements, even as her presence faded into the realm of lost dreams. Watching the chosen ones take shape through heavy lids, an elusive thought caresses your mind - the stars, 'I can see them through her.' Her fading form leans to whisper in your ear..., you had almost forgotten the magic of her voice. ...Again, your consciousness is swept into the seas of memory.
The first few nights you had hoped to reclaim that dream, to remember it in its entirety; ironic, now, that nothing would stop its coming. Indeed you ran, running in fear, but this time, alone, the mist grew but no wolves materialized to pace you, nor would your fear ease. Waking sweating yet again, you content yourself with the fact that you had yet to fail to wake yourself from what had become a nightmare. Freeing yourself from the clasping sheets, you try to steady your breathing as you reach for a quill. Journaling has helped but the fear of going mad lingers. And so you continue your nightly vigil, sleeping intermittently, watching for the faint outlines of the constellations drawn in the thumb-worn journal. On the night the first star gleams, a wolf joins you to pace vigil in the dark.
"Lark, what do you think Eldarele members should be…" "um, …grateful, ...faithful, should be …" Lark stumbles backward as she speaks, as a bewildered look crosses Liren’s face. "Mellonamin…? Amin....dalninil, amin hiraetha...." A tear glistens in Liren’s lashes. "I did not mean to startle you nor be so secretive - please forgive me. Our hearts have beat together before, let us remember when we shared our stories on our journey here." She holds Lark's outstretched fingers gently until the panic faded from her younger friend’s eyes…. "I didn’t plan for this position of responsibility, I am sorry that I did not see that I had let it come between us." Liren lowers her eyes and smiles faintly. ...her pain...her confusion...oh... why didn't I realize it? "Would you walk this path with me so that these thoughts need not only trouble me…?” Liren waited until Lark nodded slightly, and smiled. "Let us take a retreat tomorrow - you wont be missed here as I am one of your most frequent patrons." She pulls out a chair to welcome her friend beside her. Lark sat gently beside one of the three Eldarim, the leaders of Eldarele, uncomfortable until she met Liren’s soft gaze. Lark smiled glad to have her friend back; I almost lost a friend. Liren's smile dimmed a bit, but only for a moment, ...but no longer. I felt her tension slowly uncoil itself within my heart as her instinct for flight faded. How close had I been...., how close I had been.... “What do you think we should be like…? As you know, with our rebuilding, each of us now has the ability to shape what Eldarele becomes…, what would you like to see and expect of our community…if you wanted to become a member that is…?" |
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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. |