[Forum Game] Agorath and the Maegi Prophecy

The Void:YOU ARE NOT PREPARED!​

“Any idea who sent them?” Uncle Gwynfar asked. He sat in his chair at the middle of the council table.

“No all we have is that symbol that marked them all,” was my response. “What we do know is that they were well trained, and prepared to kill themselves instead of be captured.” That still bothers me, next time I am cutting off a hand should one of them be cornered by me.

“These assassins must be found at all costs Einir.” I understand that. “You will be searching for them along with Aelhaearn. Hansel will provide you with assistance, as will any other council member as necessary. Hansel Germana, he was a loyal council member and held the seat of subterfuge. If anyone could help with this it would be him.

“Any idea where we should start the search?” I asked the council.

Rubbing his chin a moment Sawyl Faeruna, the holder of the seat of agriculture spoke up. “Looking at one of the bodies I noticed a few had a leather bag with my family’s symbol on it, the same bag that is often given out to field hands at my estate. I suggest taking said body over to be identified by my workers, and investigating the area to see whether or not he was the only one.” Despite his cooperation this still makes him a suspect seeing how he is the most powerful land owner in Dracona, hence why he has his seat.

“Well then get started on it,” Gwynfar commanded. With that I was dismissed as the rest of the council talked of other matters.

I decided that I would go to Sawyl’s holding and begin my investigation before the body was brought to be identified. The Faerunas owned an extensive plot of land just a few miles north of Dracona. Their main crops were winter wheat and timber. They lived in a small home at the center of the land, with silos, stables, worker homes, and the like forming a ring around it. As I treaded the main path I was stopped by a few workers. “Can I help you?” said one of the as he leaned against a fence post looking across to me.

“Chief Gwynfar asked me to conduct an investigation, with the consent of councilman Sawyl,” I replied.

The man squinted his eyes, “that so? Well we have a problem see there have been sightings of suspicious characters at night roaming around, and a few items have appeared missing. What if your just another one of them?”

Crossing my arms I told him, “really what type of suspicious characters.”

“Dark silhouettes creeping around our storehouses and storming up the property saying they are investigating something,” he said glaring back at me.

“I am Einir Tudonii and I am here to investigate. Now tell me which one specifically,” had been my reply. One of the other field hands whispered into the man’s ear.

Nodding the man I had been speaking to conceded, “that one mostly.” He pointed down the road to the right where there was a rundown shed. I thanked him and left for the building, of course I stopped to ask other workers about the place to make certain I was not on a wild chase.

The storehouse was a simple wooden barn that fell into disrepair. Still it was odd that Sawyl had yet to fix it up. There was not much in the building but scattered tools and hay strewn across the floor. As I combed the room I heard a hollow thud. Looking down I stomped my foot to hear the sound repeated. I moved straw out of the way to see a locked hatch. Why would there be a new lock in an old ruined shack? There has to be something around here to open it up. I quickly found a sledge and wedge, placing the wedge in the handle of the lock at an angle I sung with the sledge hammer. The force was enough to break the latch, and I opened up the door. Cautiously I went down the creaky stairs, there was no light except from the barn opening, so I could not see. As I waited for my eyes to adjust I felt around for a torch or lantern to ignite.

“Einir!” Came a loud voice from up the stair case. “It’s me Hansel and Sawyl is with me. What are you doing down there?” Stumbling around blind.

“Trying to find a torch,” I hollered back.

Sawyl came down with a lantern and a few workers. As the room became lit I saw what was in it. Broken tools, not beyond hope of repair, but broken beyond being feasible for use, “so that is where those all went,” Sawyl said aloud. “I had thought they were stolen so the metal could be sold off.” Could that be how the assassins funded themselves, no that would only give a minor amount of coin or items for such a trade.

I added in, “whatever the purpose we should look to see if there is anything to help us in our search.” Councilmen Sawyl and Hansel agreed. Sawyl’s workers went to carrying all the tools out while I watched to make sure nothing important was hidden away by them. As all the contraband was laid upon the straw strewn floor I noticed a piece of parchment. It had a map of Ordivantes with several locations marked on it, but most importantly a dara knot symbol, the same one the assassins had worn. The area with the highest cluster of marks was around Helgolan. Looks like I am headed west next.

Armas yawned a little as he went over the steps of the ritual for the fourth time, still struggling a little with the ancient Hronidian glyphs. He had spent almost all of his time over the past few weeks looking for a way to help Anwën with whatever monstrous being it was that seemed to follow her, and now he was sure that he had found a way to do it. That was why he, after briefly wondering if this is what she would want, sent word for her to come to his room as quickly as possible.

His head was still buried in the book when Anwën opened the door to his chambers without even knocking, a playful get gentle smirk clear upon her face as he looked up at her and smiled back. She had framed it with two long white curls of her hair, twirled and resting upon her cheeks as they reached down to her chin. She had elevated it at the back to a loose knot, making strands fall down to shoulder length, where they just reached her light pink hued dress with slits open at her shoulders. Her lips were colored only so faintly, and her blush hidden under a red rogue. Her eyelashes were long, to encircle her deep blue clear eyes, and her eyebrow chalked and plucked neatly to form two even brushed under her forehead, half hidden by her bang. The dress bore marks of golden flowers ornately embroidered into its silk, with a chest ribbon to hold up her beginning bosom, and a larger sash of silver that marked the end of her belly, and the beginning of firm hip. She held her hands neatly by her waist, leaning her head to the side. "Forgive the mess, but a prince' calling must be taken with haste, of that my teachers always stress."

Armas sat at his table as she entered, surrounded by stacks of books, with a large old tome in front of him. His short brown hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes were wrinkled, and he had slight bags under his eyes. He looked up, smiling warmly when he saw Anwën enter the room. "Anwën, I'm glad you could come." As he waved her over to the table he wondered how it was that she managed to look even more beautiful than he remembered before pushing the thought from his mind. "And you look nice, fit more for a ball than for visiting a friend maybe, but nice." He laughed slightly, hoping that his joke didn’t come off as insulting, as he turned the book to show her the ancient Hronidian glyphs. "I think I found something that might help you with...that problem from the other day."

She raised an eyebrow, and tugged at her dress, sighing as she feigned a curtsy in jest. "He's hard to impress, the way I must deserve for my state of late. Woe be with me, but I shall endure, and take to the mirror to avoid such a grueling fate!" She paced over the floor to join him by the table, looking at the many piles of books Armas had left stack upon stack. "Have you been reading all night?"

He shrugged. Despite it being the truth he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. "I guess so, there's a lot to go through. Most of it is a waste of time, obviously, but some stuff offers some insight." He coughed quietly in to his hand as he tried to think about how to recover from his earlier comment and make her understand that he was impressed with her. "Um, but you look quite nice, believe me I'm impressed." He paused for a moment before looking up from the book at her. "And, um, are you planning on becoming a poet or bard or something?"

She frowned, as she sat down on a chair opposite to him, holding up her head with her elbows upon the table. "It's how I speak. I didn't think you'd mind. You read..." She laid a hand on her chest. "...I talk. And I read my own fair share..." She pouted. "Maybe just not enough..."

He frowned a little himself as he rubbed his neck, completely forgetting about the book for a moment as he tried to think of how to say something nice without insulting her. "Well, I don't mind, I just never noticed it before...I thought it was cute actually." His cheeks reddened slightly as he looked back down at the book, suddenly wanting to focus on it again. "I'm sure you read more than enough too. Um, but this book here is about the djinn. They were worshipped in certain parts of Hroniden a long time ago, and supposedly they inhabit a world that we mortals can't see, and that they can see across different planes of existence." He scratched his head slowly. Everything he had read about them seemed shrouded in myth and superstition, with little to prove that they actually ever even existed, but even from raiding the library for everything that might be useful, at this point it was his best hope to help Anwën. "Um, now I don't know if they are real, I haven't found much about them at all really, even after searching through the whole library, but there's a ritual here that's supposed to summon one. Maybe it could see what's following you?"

She drummed her fingers against her cheek, studying Armas intently and smiled. "Tell me, my prince, a real dark secret. One you are so terrified of, the very thought of it taking flight from your heart and reach the ear of anyone you'd hold dear, would make your very stomach growl and your eyes tear."

Armas raised an eyebrow at her, unsure what him telling a dark secret would do, before looking a bit more seriously. If she wanted to know he would tell her, but he had never needed to kill a man or anything like that, so he struggled to come up with something satisfactory. "Oh, uh, well I'm worried that I won't be a good king, one that can rouse his people with a speech or lead them in to pitched battle. I mean it's not a dark secret I guess, but I've never told anyone before. Why do you ask?"

A tear formed at the corner of her eye, yet she was swift to dry it off and with a deep sniff stave the sob away. "I just thought it fair, should we dig deeper in this haunted pit that is mine... The least I'd deserve to know something of yours. Forgive me if it was too blunt to ask..."

A worried look appeared on Armas's face as he saw Anwën crying, something that he hated to see. Without a thought he took her hand in his, attempting to comfort her. It occurred to him that his having found a solution to her problem should have made for a happier occasion. "No, Anwën it's alright...I just couldn't think of something much off top of my head, but if there ever is something you want to know from me you only need to ask." He frowned a little, wondering if she really was ready to go through with this. "And we don't need to pursue this if you don't want to...I just assumed that you would, so that you'll be safe from this thing."

She took a hold of his hand, squeezing it, a mirthless chuckle as she looked down at the table, seemingly not willing to meet his eyes. "Armas... How can I be safe when I do not even know what it is? It's..." She swallowed. "Perhaps I don't want to know. Perhaps I just wish to forget? And..." She cringed slightly. "Perhaps we were just imagining things? Riled up, taken with the moment, the spice too hot on the broth or..." She scratched the back of her head, awkwardly. "What do you think? What should I do? What should..." She chewed her lower lip. "What should we do?"

Armas looked from her towards the book, making his uncertainty clear as he cleared his throat. He certainly appreciated that she valued his opinion enough to ask, but in the end I needed to be her decision, whatever he thought. "Believe me, I wish that it wasn't, but whatever this thing was it definitely seemed real to me. My vote would be to find out what this thing is, and I'd do everything I can to keep you safe if we do, but it's your decision to make." He rubbed his neck. "Have you considered asking your mother to help? My mom says that she controlled some of the most powerful magic she's ever seen."

Anwën snorted, and looked at the walls. "Aye. She knows. Tells me it is nothing but dreams, but she knows... The least I need is her probing eyes, her constant concern, and her constant bickering on how I must become strong, must to fight, must to learn. If anything good could come out of this, is not have her raging winds sniffing down our backs as we find out." She leaned her head to the side, and gave Armas a mischievous grin. "And do not the stories tell of Djinn's, that can gift upon their visitors all sorts of treasures and things? Perhaps we can ask for eternal life! Or against our foes the most sharpest knives?"

Armas laughed, pleased at the lightened mood. It pleased him to see her smiling and making jokes after she had nearly been reduced to tears. "I think that may be a myth, though of course it can't hurt to try. The book does say that if the djinn is summoned properly they'll be bound in service to me. I'll ask him for whatever you want if we go through with this."

She broadened into a toothy grin, articulating her words with almost fierce determination. "Let lose this spirit of the sands, and what secrets of the dunes may rest in his hands."

Armas swallowed hard as he nodded. He hadn’t actually expected her to have him do it right now, he would have preferred to know the ritual better before trying it, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny her. "Oh, well, ok then. It might take some time to get everything set up for the ritual you know, it's not just as easy as snapping my fingers." Armas laughed slightly at his own joke as he stood and began clearing the books from the table, leaving just the ancient Hroniden text.

Anwën shrugged her shoulders. "One cannot be a master wizard overnight, my prince! You'll get there, I am sure. Kettle, black cat and all. But neither and nothing if you don't try."

He scoffed at the idea of a kettle and black cat, but he couldn’t deny that mastering magic while it was still in the world was a passion of his. "I'm sure."

---

Over the next hour Armas prepared the ritual, frequently checking with the book to make sure that he had done it properly. By the end the room was illuminated by dozens of candles and the floor was filled with drawings in chalk, different runes surrounding two pentacles on opposite sides of the room, one large and one small, all of which was enclosed in a large circle. After a deep breath Armas stepped in to the smaller pentacle, careful not to disturb the chalk lines. With false confidence he smiled at Anwën, hoping she didn’t see through it. "You're going to want to stay outside of the circle. If the chalk is disturbed it can mess up the ritual." He decided that it was probably best to leave out the fact that it would free the djinn to do as it pleased.

She raised a leg, only barely baring its skin from under her dress. "With these little feet? As you wish, my prince." She curtsied deeply as he laughed and backtracked towards the wall with a giggle, but her eyes told a story of both anxiety and fear.

After a brief pause and a deep breath, Armas began to slowly call on his power until the white chalk lines glowed faintly around him. Suddenly the temperature plummeted within the circle and ice spread along the floor until it reached the outermost chalk lines while the candles all went out at the same time. The larger pentacle began pouring out a thick black smoke until it was completely obscured. Two glowing white eyes appeared, staring out of the smoke in Armas's direction. With a quick look towards Anwën, then back to the cloud of smoke, Armas straightened his back and spoke in his most commanding voice despite the fear he felt. "I charge you to tell me your name, djinn." It was a formality of course, the djinn’s name was necessary to summon him, but it was recommended as a test of his control.

A booming voice called out from the smoke, seeming to shake the entire room as it did and briefly making Armas wonder if the ritual was done correctly. "I am Shimr‘al. What is it that you have called me for elfling."

After swallowing deeply Armas spoke again, but this time turned towards Anwën. "Was there anything else you wanted me to ask about first?" He laughed, slightly nervous as well as surprised that it actually worked. "Maybe that eternal life thing?"

Anwën gawked at the apparition before them, her eyes wide and her knees shaking under her dress. "I-It..." She clenched at the wall. "...worked?"

The being in the cloud of smoke laughed loudly before Armas could speak, as smoky tendrils slowly began spreading towards the edge of the circle near Anwën. "Oh, it has worked girl, and this is not the first time I have been called on by elves, or even to this very building, you would think it wouldn't be so surprising." The smoke curled upon itself as it reached the edge of the circle, slowly moving up the invisible wall. "Best to have the boy here just dismiss me now, rather than let me find a mistake with his ritual."

She looked over at Armas, seemingly at loss on what to say. "Didn't you say it would be in your service? He seems so... What is going on?!" She squealed. "I didn't break the chalk! I swear, I did not!"

Armas shook his head, trying his best to look confident as he smiled weakly, hoping to assuage her fear. "It's fine Anwën, I believe you, but, er, well the book did say that they'll try to trick you in to releasing them, put on a show as it were. But this one is under my command, I swear." His eyes flicked around the parts of the circle that weren't covered in smoke as he tried to determine if what he was saying was true. "Yeah, it's definitely all right, I just need to charge him to do something."

She chuckled faintly, and churned her insecure cowering to stretch herself into a more confident posture. "Then ask him what powers he claims to be bestowed, instead of this trickery he just now showed."

Armas nodded and turned back to the djinn's smoke covered form. "I charge you to tell me, what powers do you control, Shimr'al?"

The djinn's reply was much louder than before, nearly rocking the room as it boomed, seemingly from all around. "I am Shimr'al, Mufarrish the Mighty, Serpent of the Golden Sun! I have laid waste to the wilds in service of your magicians in time immemorial. I have spoken with Ecclestius. I have walked across the seven planes of existence. I have built the walls of this very castle in service to your ancestor, a much more impressive magician than you, so I charge you in turn, what reason have you summoned me for?"

Armas turned back to Anwën and looked at her questioningly. "Should I just ask him about it now?"

She took a deep breath, then nodded slowly without a word.

Armas swallowed deeply and nodded. His voice took a commanding tone as he spoke, clearly more confident than before. "Shimr'al, I charge you to look across the seven planes, to search for whatever it is that has bound itself to my friend here, and then to free her of it. Once you do, I will release you from my service."

The djinn hovered as the smoke began to disperse, crossing his arms as he peered over them both, then into the corner where his eyes fixed for a moment before he answered. "There are certainly three of you here, and four if you do as I request me. Should I do as you request, only one would remain."

Armas looked that the djinn, confused and annoyed. Djinn were supposed to be incredibly powerful, his own ancestor used them, and yet this one thought to lie to him. "What do you mean by that? I don't want you to get rid of anyone else, just the third being. What is it?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but in a flash he fell to the floor. A wave of black tar was showered over his back and hair, and the smoke in the room swirled and bobbed like the waves of a river in upheaval. A crack was heard, as the legs of the nearby table cracked before exploding violently, sending splinters across the room. The books fell down, and their pages were torn out, blood being scattered upon the yellowed leafs of the tomes. Anwën made a terrified scream, before she was knocked down and silenced, as she fainted.

Armas shook his head in confusion as he tried to take in everything that was happening until he looked over to Anwën as he heard her scream, then, without care for the chalk lines, ran over to check on her and released his hold on the djinn. Quickly he kneeled down beside her, and tried to wake her up; hoping that whatever was going on hadn’t hurt her. "Anwën get up, we have to get out of here!"

Suddenly a force took him by the back of his collar, and with the familiar stench and the hard breathing into his ear; Armas could hear growls and crude laughter from the unnatural source that was taking him in its hold. "Impudent scab on an open wound. The fester your curiosity is. Who... Are you?" Its raspy hiss, and devilish tune, echoed in Armas head as he was dragged over the floor away from Anwën.

Armas struggled to break free from the invisible grasp, to get away from it and move Anwën to safety, even as it began dragging him. "I am Armas Coamenel, Son of Queen Nienna Coamenel, descendent of Eöl Coamenel. Now let go of me!" As he struggled he unleashed a blast of light over his shoulder in the direction of the being that was dragging him. He remembered that it had failed the last time, but his desperation was enough to make him try again.

It scoffed, and it cackled, it slowly drenched his tunic in sick and gore, appearing from nowhere. "Elves! You filthy beasts... Bathe in your own fate!" It threw Armas across the room against a wall, causing him to collapse to the floor in a foot thick puddle of grime and gall, held up and poured into invisible walls.

Armas coughed violently as he tried to catch his breath and stand back up, despite the terrible smell and the pain the filled his back. He looked around, hoping maybe to see the being this time, but to no avail. Despite what he recognized as a powerless position, he wasn’t willing to just sit back while the being did as it pleased. "What is it you want, monster? You'll not have Anwën."

It started to whisper. "You want her, son of Nienna, descendant of Eöl? Relish, you skeeve, it is Barumin's heir indebted to us. I am many. I am more. I will have her, for she is mine!" It flung down Armas head into the puddle below him, holding him under the surface for a minute at least before it let go. "You want her?!" The voices boomed, with the sound of a plagued tiger, a lion's roar, and the wheezing of a snake about to bite.

Armas continued coughing once he had been released, trying to clear his lungs of whatever rancid concoction he had accidently inhaled. His vision swam as he replied weakly, still gasping for breath. "I want to keep her safe from you, and any others who would harm her, yes."

The voices rasped and hurled. "'Till she's sixteen. Then... I'll be back. Khaz al Dûhn... Ant!" And with that, the room turned cold, the reddened mist returning to its white smoke, as Armas window was blasted out, and the frames were ripped from the stone walls. All were turning quiet as air filled the room, and all seemed to be over at last. "But my shadow will never be gone." Said a young child's voice, and with that Armas’ tunic was clean, the bloodstains on the books had vanished, and the putrid body fluids on the floor had turned into normal, clear ice.

Still breathing heavily, Armas got up, stumbling a little as he was careful not to slip on the ice, and ran over to Anwën. He knelt down beside her, and carefully checked her pulse before gently trying to shake her awake. "Anwën, wake up! Are you ok?" Whatever the being’s cryptic message meant at least she seemed alright as far as he could tell.

She grunted and grasped at his arm. "We probably should have asked of treasures and eternal life instead..."

Armas laughed a little as he helped her to sit up. "That might have been better." He took her chin and gently turned her head, looking for any bruising or marks that might indicate a head injury. "You're ok then? Physically I mean?"

"I'm neither marked nor scarred, your princess still unscathed." She said with a smile, before turning into a frown of concern. "What of you? What of your new friend?"

“That's good to hear. I was worried what that thing had done." Armas blinked before looking down at himself, patting along his shirt and pants. "I think I'm fine." He looked over to the summoning circle which was now empty. "I would expect he's returned to some other plane to recover, I mean, I dropped the spell, if that thing didn't kill him that is. It doesn't make any sense Anwën, djinn are supposed to be some of the most powerful beings in the realm, Shimr'al said that Eöl used him and he was a great wizard." He frowned and lowered his head. "I don't know if I'll be able to find a way to help you with this monster, I mean I'll keep trying, but that was my best idea."

Anwën was near close to tears, holding at his collar as she whimpered down. Her playful facade and her graceful tune but a memory. "I'm scared, Armas! This curse so real now. What if it'll hurt you, or never leave or can be banished away?"

Armas pulled her closer, hugging her tightly. "I-I'll be fine, don't worry about me, and it said that it will leave you be until you're sixteen, so we have time to plan at least." He let out a slight sigh as he rubbed the back of his head. "I'll keep looking for some way to solve this, don't worry." He pulled at his collar lightly. "But I think it might be a good idea to talk to your mother about this. I know you said she didn't take it seriously, but still..."

Anwën lowered her gaze over the room, leaning her quivering arms around him to return his embrace. "I guess I have no other choice... But I cannot help but feel forced to ask you something else."

Armas nodded, a small but warm smile on his face. "Anything you need Anwën." Truly, whatever she wanted or needed he would do for her.

"Why'd you do this for me? It's the second time you've been attacked, and still your persistent with digging down further."

Armas reddened a little. "Well, I want to help keep you safe, or try to at least. I can't just leave you to get hurt by that thing." He rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed a little, trying to deflect the question. "And besides this way we can have an adventure, like you wanted."

She chuckled, and looked him deep into the eyes. "An adventure worth ten thousand tomes for ten thousand years."

Armas nodded as he looked back at her. "Exactly." After a moment he leaned closer and kissed her quickly on the lips before leaning back. "Er, sorry." He didn’t mean to take advantage of the situation but he wanted her to know how he felt and it seemed like the prefect chance to do so.

Her face took a longing turn, and stretched herself up to kiss him again, tightening her embrace around him firmly.

Armas smiled widely after returning the kiss. "So um, what's the next step here? Should I tell my mother about this little escapade, or just wait until your mother arrives?"

She reached up and placed her head on his shoulder, wetting his tunic with her tears, while the perfume he had gifted her was replacing the stench of the bile. "You don't think she'd be upset? She may yell, or ground, or punish us. I don't know what road to take from here but live. If there's three years left without nightmares, that's three more years to live life as life should be. And I don't want you to get in trouble over something that is mine." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "What do you think? What do you wish to do?"

Armas sat quietly for a moment, thinking, before he spoke. "You can live your life during the next three years, you're right, but what about the next one hundred and fifty? You shouldn't have to risk not getting to enjoy them as well, and from everything I know about your mother she'll be able to figure all of this out. So I would say that we tell them, but it's your call of course" He shrugged and laughed quietly. "As for getting in to trouble, who could blame me for trying to help you? And if there's trouble to be had for it, then it's well worth it."

She sighed, yet sported a quiet giggle, as she nuzzled into his collar. "My dearest prince to save the day? Riding with his steed, and clearing all danger in his way." She clenched her hand on his back. "Thank you."

Armas hugged her gently. "You're most welcome my princess."

---

The Bards tell of Armas and Anwën's attempt to remove the being that haunts her.

“Damnation, another dead end,” I roared as my men searched the camp. This was the fifth location from the map that turned up empty. Weeks have been wasted, and all I have accomplished is letting the trail run cold. Just an empty clearing with a few burnt shacks, any clues were destroyed. There might have been tracks but the rain last night must have wiped them out. “Adalard come over here,” I motioned to the veteran. He was one of the first huscarls, our professional heavy infantry, and is a very experienced soldier.

Adalard hurried over he wore a simple hauberk with a red sash around his waist. “Sir” he saluted to me.

Looking him in the eyes I commanded, “tell me if you found anything.”

“Sir, this place is just like the others by the looks of it the enemy is managing to flee just a few days prior to our arrival.” It would appear they either have really good scouts or they knew of the route we planned.

“Adalard gather the men I have a plan.” Everyone reformed and we made to the next map, or rather made it appear that was our goal. After a day of traveling we redirected ourselves south going to a different spot. This one was more out of the way though, as we went deeper into the wilderness in the Helgoland foothills. Then finally we found it, a small encampment. A few tents, with a large lean to with supplies underneath it, and several men ran about it. Either they were bandits or our quarry, yet we shall strike anyway. I signed to the men what the plan was.

My party fanned out, two took the eastern side to take out the sentinels there, while four snuck around the western perimeter to do the same with archers giving support, the northern part of the camp was a cliff base, and the rest of us laid in wait for the signal from the infiltrators. Like clockwork I watched as the troops snuck along, slitting throats as they moved through the camp. They worked their way over to where the one who had been barking orders was so we could get information out of him. The first two snuck behind him and drug the enemy officer back, while the other four infiltrators decided to signal for an attack. “WOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” The battle cry rang out startling the enemy, but not as much as the arrows that began to fly into them.

“Charge!” I ordered as the first line of my party went dashed forward from our cover to crash into the startled foes. After a few moments the rest of the party joined the fray with another charge further weakening the enemy. As I fought one of them I notice the symbol hanging around his neck with one of those blasted poison vials. The fighting went on for several minutes longer until they had all been dealt with. All except the officer who was captured.

The officer was brought before me. “Who are you working for.” He just gave me a silent glare. “Who are you working for, you will die otherwise.” Next thing I know there is spit on my face, I reared my hand back and back handed the insolent officer. “Who are you working for?!” I bellowed for the next hour I toiled with that punching and kicking the man always repeating the same question but no response.

As I stood in front of the bruised and bloodied prisoner Adalard spoke up. “Sir may I intervene and offer advice for the future on such matters.”

Shaking with anger at how stubbornly long this my attempts had been I turned to the huscarl to say “of course.”

Adalard kneeled next to the man looking him over and lightly touching the bruises. Without turning his gaze away from the his strange work he lectured. “Do not fret sir for this is not a task suited for everyone. Some people can be bribed, or beaten into compliancy but there are times when someone is too loyal for that. Every one admits to torture yet they will say anything in that case, so it could still be a lie. Should you beat a person progressively worse they would be as a frog in boiling water.” He casually pulled a dagger out of the side of his boot. “Throw it in preheated it jumps out, boil it with the pot with the frog in it then it won’t know to jump out, and die. What you have down sir is had him in the pot while it boiled, with every strike he became more accustomed and jaded.” He starts sharpening the knife with a whetstone.

“So what I need to shock them into complacency? What if they lie there too just like with torture,” I retorted skeptical.

“Not likely because if you do it right they won’t have the time to come up with a lie,” he ended with a smile. Then his face went flat as he jabbed the knife into the man’s gut, and immediately began twisting it. “Who are you working for!” Adalard screamed into the officer’s ear.

“ARGGG!! STOP!” The man grunted in pain.

The huscarl took the knife out and stabbed it into the diaphragm and twisted again, but his time he grabbed the side of the officer’s head and pulled him down to make the blade go just that little bit deeper. “WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR!”

“I do not know the name,” he said behind clenched teeth. Kneeling down on the other side of the suffering man. This feels wrong but if it already has gotten results. No more holding back I suppose, there is a threat that must be eradicated. I calmly grabbed the side of the officer’s head and began pressing my thumb into his eye. He screamed in pain as I gouged his eye out, but I ignored it.

As I continued pressing I softly told him, “you will tell me everything you know without hesitation.” Then I pressed harder into the socket causing blood to squirt out.

“I will talk I will talk!” Both Adalard and I relaxed are quick torture of the victimized officer. “I do not know the name, but I know where he is. I go to a meeting place to receive new orders and accept payments,” he said raggedly.

One of the men threw a map on the ground. “Point to it if you please,” I said as I readied to gouge out his other eye.

“There,” he hurriedly stated as he pointed on the map.

“Are you certain,” Adalard asked the prisoner.

“Yes I am just stop,” the officer pleaded.

“Good,” the huscarl said with a smile. Then he slit the man’s throat letting him slump to the ground to finish dying.

“Why did you kill him we could have received more intelligence from him,” I stated.

“With those wounds he would not have lasted much longer. The pro of this method is how efficient you can make someone talk in a short amount of time, conversely they die quickly from the brutality of it,” Adalard said ending his lecture.

“Then I should only use it when I have to,” I replied. It got the job done. I do not take pride in what I just did but there was a sort of primal joy from it, probably because it got the results I was desperate for. Continuing I said, “we need to head to that location, and just in case your method is not as efficient as you claim huscarl Adalard we will go in cautiously so not to be ambushed.”

He saluted, “of course sir.”

“Move out,” I called out to my men. We gathered what little other information from these people as we could from their equipment and left.

Elu rubbed his hand tiredly over his face as the latest person seeking justice from their Underking left, unsatisfied. The tensions in Yurdaest between the Dwarfs, Elves and Orcs was reaching boiling point, with attacks from one group against the others being an almost daily occurrence. Fights broke out everywhere, despite the increased presence of the Mountain Guard, and more and more people sought out to approach their ruler in hopes that he could somehow right the wrongs committed against them, with a wave of his hand. The truth, as it was in all things, was much more complicated than it first appeared. No easy solution could be had to the problems plaguing Elu Garhold’s Mountainhome.

“Garkad Filip, a native-born miner, seeks the Underking’s justice.” Boomed the herald, catching Elu’s wandering focus, “The Yurdaestii Dwarf seeks justice for the murder of his two twin sons at the hands of an Orc gang, and appeals to the Underking to see vengeance delivered upon them.”

The herald’s tone displeased Elu, but he remained silent. He would have the Dwarf disciplined later, quietly. Having the man punished immediately would cast Elu’s sympathies into doubt, and no doubt earn the animostity of even more of his subjects. Despite his, and his mother’s, best efforts, Elu still did not hold the support of the people. The small folk saw him as an outsider, a stranger, and if he had to be honest with himself, he agreed with them. He was a Garhold in name, and an Underking on paper, but he felt like a Mindrilla Theron at heart. Keeping his misgivings to himself, Elu nodded graciously down at the dirty looking Dwarf, whose eyes were red from weeping.

“Tell me Filip, son of Yurdaest, are the accusations stated by my herald true?”

The Dwarf squirmed uncomfortably on the spot, his hands clenching and unclenching, before he finally nodded and spoke in a voice that cracked, “They are, your grace.”

“Tell me what happened, give me details of your grievances.” He was trying hard to put forth an appearance of genuine sorrow and sympathy for the obviously distraught Dwarf’s plight, but internally he felt no flicker of empathy. If the Dwarf boys had been more careful, they would still be alive. Keeping his opinion to himself, Elu listened attentively as the heart-broke Dwarf began to speak.

“My boys, my sons… I had set out with them, two nights past, to go and buy our meat and drink for the coming week… The trip to the market-place was uneventful, they were joking and laughing there and on the way back… Izaak, the larger of my two sons, he noticed those Orcs huddled together in the shadows…” The Dwarf took a steadying breath, his voice breaking from sorrow, “He… He called out to them, demanded to know what they were doing there, on our level… They…” The Dwarf dropped his head, tears streaming silently down his face. Motioning for one of his attendants to bring the grief-stricken Dwarf something strong to drink, Elu mulled over what he had already been told.

Izaak had confronted the Orcs first, so the green-skins were not at fault. However, if Filip was to be believed, the Orcs were on the same level that the Dwarves lived. While Yurdaest was not a segregated community, it had, by its own initative, split itself into its own distinct areas. The deeper levels were for the Dwarfs, the highest levels for the Elves, and the middling ground was for the Orcs. This suited all parties, and they rarely strayed from their own territory, unless they had trouble in mind. A light tap on his shoulder from one of his aides showed him that the Dwarf was ready to continuing speaking. Motioning authoritatively, but not unkindly, Elu asked the Dwarf to resume.

Gulping down the drink he had been given, as if it was the only thing that could see him through the court case, Filip hurriedly began to speak again. “He went up to them, he didn’t listen to me… The Orcs turned on him, and… They were like animals, they took out knives and stabbed my poor boy over a dozen times. Jan ran at them, to try and save his brother, but they cut him down to, laughing as they did so… I tried to stop them, I did, but they simply knocked me down and stole the few coins I had on me… They didn’t care about what they had done, didn’t spare my poor boys a second glance… I beg you, your grace, cast the Orcs out of Yurdaest!”

Elu frowned at the final words of the Dwarven father. Such an act would be impossible, sparking a civil war that could easily be lost if it was purused. This case would have to be handled carefully. Aware of the eyes resting upon him, Elu rose from his seat, and spoke in a clear, commanding voice, “I hear your grievances Garkad Filip, and know that my heart and deepest condolences go out to you. All the wealth of Yurdaest, indeed of Highathar, cannot return what was taken from you, but I will do my best to see that your sons’ memories are honoured, and their deaths are avenged. I will seek out, and punish, the Orcs who murdered your children, and I vow to increase the guard on the lower levels of Yurdaest, so as to prevent such a despicable event ever occurring again. The loss of your two sons shall not be forgotten.”

A murmur of approval echoed throughout the chambers as Elu announced his decision, and the Dwarf was led away. Elu knew that it was not his proclamation that the Orcish murderers would be hunted down that had earnt him the approval of the crowd, but rather his announcement that the guard would be increased. It was an unspoken, or rather a subtle, move on his part, that the crowd was well aware of, that meant that non-Dwarfs would be heavily discouraged, more-so than they already were, to stay out of the lower levels. Unofficial segregation looked like it would be necessary to hold the unstable Underkingdom together.

Feeling a light tap on his shoulder, Elu glanced to his right, and right saw the dark-haired figure of his chancellor, Dáin Blacklocks, standing attentively at his side. Speaking in his ever-smooth voice, the chancellor murmured quietly, “Well handled, your grace.”

“Thank you, Boleslaw.” Elu replied, an expression of appropriate attentiveness on his face. The chancellor was the only Dwarf on the council who had told Elu his true name, rather than insisting he call him by the name he adopted for use by outsiders. Just as Elu’s father Dwarven name had been Quicksilver, yet his true name had been Radoslaw (a fact he had only learnt during his time in Yurdaest), many of the Dwarves of Yurdaest still held to the old outsider-minded naming system. “Is there any other council business we must deal with?”

“Yes, your grace. More issues between the Elves, Orcs and Dwarves. All three groups are forming their own private militas, and some of the more bolder people are building fortifications of their own. This matter cannot wait, I am afraid.”

Nodding with resignation, Elu pushed himself up from his throne as the hall emptied. Walking to the Council chambers, all of his councilmen in tow, Elu prepared himself for another day of playing the different factions and people of Yurdaest, off one another. Yurdaest was a kingdom divided, not in half, but in three, and it would take all of Elu’s skill, as well as a fair portion of luck, to see it survive the ordeals ahead.

---

Bards Tale

Garhold Elu deals with another case of inter-species violence, something which has become a common theme in Yurdaest.

There are many societies, communities, orders, and the like throughout the different nations of the world, each with their own ideals and goals. The Ankuo Fraternity is an old though rather distrusted group of people that practice an abstract form of necromancy. Instead of using blood sacrifices and black magic, the individual simply calls upon the assistance of their ancestors to help. This gives a more shamanistic aspect to it. This group believes they can turn themselves into a conduit to perform the will of their ancestors, whether this consensual possession is symbiotic or not is only known to members of the fraternity.

Their ceremonies often include a lot of chanting, and every member must put a drop of blood into a silver goblet so they can be purified. The reason is unlike the generic necromancer who summons armies of undead to perform evil acts for selfish means; the fraternity is more neutral in its goals. They simply wish society to not fall into utter chaos, and do what they can to prevent it. For this reason the Ankou greatly dislike conventual necromancy. Still being necromantic they use spirits (i.e. their ancestors) for divinations, and to grant powers in the forms of a boon.


Due to the deep roots in Wilder culture the Fraternity of Ankuo do not see a called upon spirit as a weapon, but an ally. Like most wilder they believe the ancestors are in one single afterlife, and protect their descendants from their enemies’ ancestors. The Ankuo also use a lot of ward signatures to keep evil beings away, or out. Another important difference from traditional necromancers is fighting style. A fraternity member never summons the dead or demands the spirits attack. Instead they plead for a boon to increase wit, strength, speed, and etcetera. After which they fight in melee combat, wearing armor with bone decorations showing the foes, and spirits they are with the Ankuo Fraternity. The likely hood they actually gain anything more than a morale boost from their boon requests may never be known.

It is still important to note that the fraternity is scattered and not too influential in the Wildlands, yet they are remaining active. The largest known pocket lives in a series of old ruins between the Necronii and Alma tribes. Do be careful, any one that causes instability in the region may have to face them.

((putting this here cause they will be included in an upcoming IC))

9 Years after the Dark One's fall.

Waves. Even on the still waters of the river came the rocking of the shoals, their foamy creasing against the hull of the ferry, gushing in its white exploding every sensation, from its pouring sound, green struck hue, and its rank brackish smell. She couldn’t fathom how the merchants and seafarers or the mythical shore bandits from the stories could ever have stomached it, for Anwën’s was turning in unison with every bounce and twist. Her light skin was paler than it had ever been before as it looked over the railing, fighting the urge to retch her sick into the merciless embrace of the water below.

She cursed these trips, she cursed them hard, and couldn’t for the life of her understand how this was better than a ride on the back of a horse. It is faster her mother always said. It is safer she would emphasize. But all Anwën remembered of them was the embarrassment of having her sister see her this way, for the waves didn’t seem to bug Narien at all. In fact, she was taking it with ease, laying on her back to study the birds flight towards the South as winter encroached. Her free spirit, courage, the only thing Anwën remembered, except for the brewing sensation of her stomach juices begging to escape its miserable coffin.
While their mother looked at them from her chair, Narien came, as so many times before, to soothe her sister in her plight. Her soft hand upon her shoulder a signal of both judgement, and compassionate affairs.

“Are you okay, Anwën?” Her sister asked.
“I think I’ll never feel whole again…” Were Anwën’s great retort, sulking and the sudden disturbance of peace and meditation nearly forcing her to hurl. Thankfully it stayed with a quiet burp and a foul taste on the tongue. But it was coming. She knew it. Any minute now, and then over to hide and cry in shame under the covers of her bunk bed in the cabin. Apparently not feeling any need for empathy over her firstborn’s struggle and misery, Eylinn chuckled endearingly at the awkward scene.

“Sweet girl, watch the horizon please. Less focus on the rocking boat, and you'll be fine for the whole week. Would you girls rather the voyage home be three times as long?”
“I wouldn't mind, mama,” Narien said with a cheerful tone, rubbing at Anwën’s back in an attempt to steer the evil sea demons away. “I'm in no hurry to get home. It always smells so funny, especially after being in Galadriel.”

“Narien's right...” Anwën proclaimed, sombrely. “Besides, what is home worth when you're ill?” Mother laughed, and finally left her chair to come comfort them in this perilous situation. A little spider inside Anwën’s mind was trying to insist that should a grown up join by their side, the boat most surely would tip over, launching them all into the frigid water, one at a time. But it didn’t happen, for the little spider was mostly wrong. The cherished hot hand of their mother was soothing, as her love tipped over into their minds. She had no idea how she did it, but it always worked, even more so now than a few months before. Ever since that letter had arrived in Mirrorwater, mother had carefully started to be cheerful again. Aunt Evhana had only frowned, however. It was a weird sight, because auntie never frowned, unlike mother, who would frown every time the sisters were off for mischief, or when big brother was teasing them when playing in their made up worlds of adventure, rogues, dragons and hideous trolls. The smell was very right, though. At home, it was thick and heavy. In the forest, so sweet and fair, open and spacious. She still missed home. In fact, she missed it quite bad.

“The forests cleanse the air,” Mother resolved in a cheery tune. “This is true my dear. But remember, there's no dessert, nor is there any toys or cute boys to speak in the Chasm. The people are still rebuilding, and should be left to do so in peace. Don't you agree?”

“But shouldn't we be helping them, mama?” Narien asked, bluntly. She was industrious to say the least. Their mother crouched before her sister, and held her cheeks in her hands.
“We are. But it's no place for my daughters to be. You're princesses of Ecclestius too. You say an Imperial would need less aid than an Elf?” She grinned, and caressed Narien's pointy ear. “We're a sturdy sort, we are. Our kin can manage themselves. Mother ensure that they’ll manage and thrive through the ordeal.” Narien jutted her jaw out proudly and nodded.

“Yes, mama.” Anwën took a break from her self-pity and lent her back against the railing, aiming her eyes towards the sky as she remembered the jarring sneers and occasional comments aimed their way. First Anwën had thought it be in jest, but sometimes it wasn’t. It was odd to her, for Azeratii was their home. Why would people tease them for their ears, if it was their home?
“I thought Imperials didn't even like our kind, mother. Those at the palace is nice, but not as much those beyond...” She looked over at Narien. ”Still beats mucking around the earth to plant trees. Besides, you'd probably just break the twig trying to fence a poor farmer in his work.” Narien giggled.

“Only if the farmer slacked, like papa would do to Varian!” Narien sighed, leaning upon the rail and looking out over the river, resting her chin on her hands. “They can be cruel back home... I think I'd rather plant trees.” Their mother regained some of her sullen being, sighing hopelessly as she caressed Narien’s hair.
“Pay them no heed, my dear. We cannot all bask in everlasting sublime. They live hard lives too. They’re hard to us therefor.” The caress turned into a playful ruffle, making a terrible mess of both the sisters neatly brushed hairs. Anwën was near distraught! She and Narien had spent all morning fixing it. “Which is why we must be strong for them too. Represent them with dignity, honour and self-sacrifice. Like a man I once knew...” Their mother sported a serene smile, seemingly as a bolt and flash from a clear sky. She was thinking something, keeping something from them. It made it crawl inside Anwën’s skin, this curiosity and enshrouded mysteries. Anwën tilted her head, looking at mother with a suspicious frown. She never much talked of her past, in fact, it was mostly aunt that did that. In those stories, there were many men told. Many died and lost, but self-sacrificing? At least it wasn’t father. She didn’t know why, but it made Anwën sad.

“If you say so, mum.” She felt compelled to dig into the mystery further. “Is there something you wish to say? You seem to cut many sentences short ever since we left to live in Coal after you and dad fought.” Narien was equally curious it seemed, turning to face her mother, her blue eyes flecked with green looking up expectantly, keen on a mere piece of grown-up conversation or rumour. But mother only indulged them with a sad smile.
“Nothing you need concern your pretty heads about. Maybe one day, we'll talk, but that will have to wait.” She returned to her chair to lie down. “Go along now and play. Forget the stirring ship and enjoy the northern air while it last.” Anwën took the quick route of ridding herself of the frustration in being left out, and cupped her hands over Narien's ear and whispered.

“That's mummy's way of saying she don't want us to ask any more questions.” She clarified, making Narien frown. Opening her mouth as to delve deeper into conspiratorial attempts in prodding their mother for more questions no doubt, it was cut short when a call of alarm came from the lookout, perched atop the crow's nest.
“A ship rides the northerly winds, bearing down fast!” He called. It was unusual. The river sure could be lively, but the trade barges were slow under the weight of supplies. Swift sails usually reserved the characteristics of the ferries and… Warships. Narien squinted to the north; a speck on the horizon could be seen. Anwën jumped up and down, almost ecstatic, her every fibre astute with imagination of what visions would appear.
“What is it? What is it?! Is it dragons?!” She cheered out in glee, praying to whatever higher power there could be, that the ship approaching was both big and worthwhile to see. Images of fine carved bow heads, slanted and gilded decorations on the hull, vast broad sails and a high never-ending mast appeared in her mind. For real dragons… They didn’t like water at all. Just like her.

---

“My Queen!” The lookout called, his voice edged with concern. “A war galley, its standard is hidden!” The ship grew quickly on the horizon, as it began to close the distance between them. It wasn’t quite the majestic sight that Anwën had expected, but it would have to do. The rugged bow was sharp, and its sails slightly worn, just like any other galley she had seen. Then why was her anticipation so determinately falling, and anxiety rising in its stead? Something was wrong, and as their mother darted up from her seat to grab their hands tight, it escalated in the same beat of the oarsmen’s drums coming closer, and closer.
“Come! We're taking you to the cabins immediately!” Their mother said, pulling them away from the railing, leading them into the ship and below. Fear was caught in Narien's voice as she gripped her hand tight.

“We must protect each other, Anwën, okay?” Anwën nodded frantically, unable to hide the fright she felt. Their mother took them to their cabin, and led them in.
“Don't make a word, you hear?” She said sternly. “You stay silent, and you don't leave, whatever come to pass.” She threw herself at the coffer, digging for what must be her sword. The same sword she had tried teach Anwën to use, so many times in the past. “Mother will be right back, understood?”

“We can fight, mama!” Narien squeaked in false confidence, echoing the inner travesty Anwën felt as well. Their mother found her sword, and clasped Narien's cheeks hard, looking straight into her eyes, and her voice was clearly meant for them both.
“I know. And you will. But not today. You need to stay safe. You hear?” She looked over at Anwën. “Take care of your little sister. I'll be right back. Lock the door, and open not to anyone but me.” What if you don’t return? But Anwën didn’t even dare utter such words. The air felt so hard to breath, and she could nigh feel the tarring of the walls releasing from the finish, just to flood the cabin slowly and drown them all. Their mother flung out the door and slammed it behind her, with Anwën whimpering as she grabbed Narien's hand hard.

“W-What's going on? What's happening out there?” She asked, and nearly forgetting herself, she latched the door lock.
“Mama will take care of it, you'll see.” Narien said quietly, trying to sound confident. Anwën bit her lower lip, and huddled close to her.

“I can't fight, Narien. I hated fencing. I only did it so that mum would let me ride the horses.” She admitted, just in case this would be their final time together. “What are we to do?” Her sister squeezed her hand.
“Mama will take care of it.” The dual mast ship came upon them quickly, with the scattered reports of the lookout. It was an imperial ship that was manned by Nords. That was the final nail to breech Anwën’s sanity. The world turned into a murmur, voices dulled out and muted by the terror. The flashing of the spears in the sun, and the great white flag raised by the warriors on the ship seemed to bleed out into a violent deep red before her eyes. She climbed off the coffin, and sat down on the bed.

“Therain of Green Chasm, and queen of Ec…” She thought hear her mother roar. The bouncing of Narien’s feet upon the chest as she was looking out the window, echoed in her ears. Not now… Not now! Anwën pleaded so dear. Her mind was pressing against the inside of her eyes, and pins and needles were spread out her arms.
“Spoils of war!” War… War… War… “King, lord of Norseland…” Was all Anwën could hear the Nord call. Only for the slithering whispers in her mind to soothe her, they weren’t enough as the shadows were cast over the room. The timber was bleeding. She could not feel her legs. Strange syllables echoing through her mind. Zh… Ghûr… Ën… She rubbed her arms, feeling nothing at all, she could no longer control her own jaw, and her hands were trembling, her knees shaking. “Mindrilla clan?” Mindrilla! The voice was booming now, threatening, seductive and grim, while oddly soothing. It could hardly have belonged to only one.

“They’re singing! They’re singing!” She could hear her sister bellow, but at that point, it was too late. Anwën lost control, her sight, and nearly her ears. Just the chant from the soldiers outside.
“The Dragon did Soar, For the taste o’ honey-water, it could not ignore”

“See, sister.” Anwën said. “I told you there were dragons in the North.” She fell back and started to shake uncontrollably, her teeth clenched and the linens folded by the disturbance. The teeth rattled, and white foam glistened at the corners of her mouth.
“Anwën?” She would hear her sister call. “Anwën!” She could barely feel it, but it was there. Heavy thuds came from the door, and a demonic voice growled from the other side.

“Girls? It’s safe. You can open the door.” Her mother was somewhere in there, but quelled by their deep sinister choir, drowning both her love and comfort, and left Anwën untouched by her blessed presence.

“Mama! Mama! Something is wrong with Anwën!” Her sister was fighting on the meadow, far in the distance she saw. Riding through the air, over the thorny black petals of cursed roses, she let out sparks and Light to strike their evil down. It was so strange. Their ferry she could see on the horizon, as it crossed the sea of blood. Anwën was in her castle now, in her bed, safe from all harm. It was the badger that came, it darted through the hinged gardens below. Its massive body unnatural, monstrous, and it looked hungrily up at the sky. The raven tried to fly away, escape from this cursed castle, to no avail. The badger simply jumped, and snapped with its jaw, crushing the raven beneath its teeth. She could hear the crack of every bone in its body, its beak shattered and its flesh ripped apart. It was coming for her now. Its every step came trembling through the ground towards her tower, twitching its neck, its head flung from side to side. She tried to scream, and the raven too, yet none of them could be heard. Lazily the badger climbed the stony walls, and at her window, it plunged down at her floor. The mutilated remnants of the bird in its mouth was dripping, and but for the glance it gave Anwën time to see, it swallowed the bird whole. Its fur turned red, and from its lengths came dripping of black taint upon the floor. The ceiling cried red tears of blood, flooding her room. She could not escape. There was no escape.

The badger grinned, and Anwën suddenly found her head caressed by a soft, recognizable hand. Laid upon her mother’s lap she was, and back into the cabin, still shaking and trapped inside her own attack.
“Don’t worry, Narien. Your sister will be fine soon.” She had placed her cheek upon her clean dress, holding her down to let it all reside. “Your sister have the shakes, child. Sometimes, when she's excited or there are many flashing lights, her poor body can't take the strain. Nothing you need to worry about. She'll be fine in no time with some rest.” She held up Anwën's chin to make sure she wasn't biting her own tongue. “She gets very embarrassed, so don't tell anyone, you hear? Just stay with her if she gets ill, and hold her down. Like mama is doing right now.” The soft melody of her voice was returning, yet its words escaped her the moment they had arrived, forgot all that happened, as swift as they had come. She only felt the embarrassment, just as she had done on the deck outside while waiting to hurl into the river Rhill. It’s just, she had now forgotten why. Narien was crying. Why was she so sad? Why couldn’t she reach out to hold her, and tell her everything would be all right?

The whispers started to recede, and the shaking was drifting away. She was calm, and so sleepy.

She shut her eyes to dream again...

Minstrels sing of the Therain Queen first encountering the king of Norseland's men on the river Rhill. Friendly? Hostile? Not yet known, but that her daughters were there to witness the scene.

Elu wandered deeper into the bowels of Yurdaest, a heavily armoured gaoler by his side. The Dwarves believed the deeper one is in the mountain, the closer to its roots, the more prestige should be afforded to them. Despite this the old pragmatism of the Dwarves was not stopped by their cultural beliefs, and as such the prisons of Yurdaest were nearly as deep as the royal levels. After all, the deeper one is in the mountain, the harder it would be for them to escape.

Swatting away a small cave spider that landed on his silken tunic, made from the threads excreted by the larger cousin of the spider he had just brushed away, the giant cave spider, Elu couldn’t help but feel mildly curious at the way the day had turned out so far. It was not often he travelled to the prison cells, but the latest addition to the inmate population had caught his attention. It was not every day a young Elven girl managed to wound two fully grown, and heavily armed, Dwarven guards. After several minutes of wandering in the barely illuminated passageways, something that caused Elu to long for the warm caress of the Sun, the Underking and gaoler finally arrived outside the appropriate cell.

Stepping forward with a muttered apology, the gaoler hurridly unlocked the door and pushed into the room, holding out his lantern as he did so. While it brought some light to the dark cell, Elu could not make out the figure crouched in the corner. Regardless of what he could see, the sight appeared to satisfy the gaoler, who motioned for Elu to join him inside the room. Dipping his head respectfully at his Underking, the Dwarf did not break eye-contact from the prisoner, "This is her, your grace. Are you certain about being left alone with her?" Elu could hear the doubt the Dwarf’s voice, the concern. He felt he should feel touched about the concern the Dwarf held for his wellbeing, even though it was likely motivated by a simple desire to not be the one blamed for leaving his liege unarmed with a convicted prisoner. Deciding to ignore his concern, Elu masked his voice in honey, quelling the irrational urge to attack the Dwarf that rose inside him.

"She is bound, yes? Anyways, I am not unarmed, nor unskilled. I will be fine. Wait outside till I call for you." Bowing stiffly, the Dwarf handed the lantern to Elu before retreating outside, shutting the door behind him. No matter what he could have said, Elu reflected, the Dwarf would still have reacted the same way. He was being asked to leave his ruler alone with a prisoner, something that defied common sense. But, as Elu saw it, common sense was often mixed with stupidity. Holding the lanter out, casting light upon the shadowy figure, he asked in a calm and measured tone, "Who are you?" He already knew the answer, but the response she gave could reveal much about her.

As light shone on her, Elu noted that the girll was but of sixteen winters age, or at leasts appeared to be so. Yet her wild ruffled hair and marks of dehydration made her face look worn, as her wrists and ankles were tethered to the wall, "Who's asking?" Elu supressed the desire to smile knowingly, reminding himself, instead, that he wanted to see hear her responses, not find out whether they are true or not.

Elu titled his head at her, blinking curiously, "I am the Underking of this mountain. I am Garhold Elu. Now tell me, who are you?"

The girl rocked her head to free the hair from her face, looking at him with squinting eyes. She laughed grimly, leaning against the hard rock wall, such in contrast to her soft pale curves. Elu decided there and then that she was pretty young thing, reminding him slightly of his personal servant Milatha. Not so much her personal appearance, but rather the tattooed markings that lined her face. The woman was a tribal, without a doubt. "A secret admirer. You make a habit of visiting the dead, king under the mountains?"

"I'm flattered by your interest." Elu remarked drily as he cast around the room for a place to sit. Shrugging, he sat down on the floor and gave her a small smile, "As for visiting the dead, I wouldn't normally bother, but when they manage to sneak into the lowest levels of Yurdaest, injure two guards before their capture, and apparently be a young Elven female, I do tend be rather interested. You can hardly blame me for wanting to come and see what sort of creature could manage to do all of that, can you now?"

"Not from where I hail, no." She tried to raise her neat, trimmed arms, but found them decidedly entrenched to her feet, locked together through a small iron ring hammered into the stone floor. She sighed, "Name's Belethien, from the Viper Barb tribe. Me and my family followed to Yurdaest when we heard of the great march, and promises of chances to redemption and proper lands."

"Ah, you are one of those migrants I encouraged to come along." He smiled crookedly at her, "Yurdaest hasn’t turned out to be exactly what I promised you all, has it? Full of spiteful Dwarfs, and furious Orcs." He sometimes wondered why the Elves he had brought along had not returned back to Galadriel. Life in Yurdaest was far from pleasant for them, with the migrants lacking the things they cherished most, sunlight, fresh air, leafy canopies, and, of course, a distinct lack of Orcs and Dwarfs. The thought of loyalty keeping them in the mountain, despite all their hardships, made him marvel at how strange emotions must be.

She tried to adjust herself into a more comfortable position, to no avail. "The Orcs made a raid. It didn't take long. A week later, I drove a knife through his rotten skull." She grinned, "Payed off by a Dwarf businessman I heard. I was coming for him. No safety, king." She closed her eyes. "That was all I wanted them to know. The Barb tribe is a proud one, you see. In Galadriel, we were a merchants’ fear, and a slaver Orcs even greater nightmare. We were the shadow under their beds, but my parents didn't want that for me. They were wrong... They were weak, good of heart, until a rusty axe was buried into both their chests."

"A soft heart has its uses, but not here." Elu murmured softly, "Tell me, do you know the name of the Dwarf who organized the raid?"

Belethien laughed, "So you can tell him to witness my execution? You are a Dwarf prince to be sure."

He smiled faintly at her, "Rather so I can have him disappear. Those who break the Underking's Peace are too much trouble to be allowed to live, and the wealth he has acquired from his illicit activities would do much more good in my treasury than in his pocket." Telling her the truth behind his motivations didn’t worry him in the slightest. She could be useful, and if she failed to be, well, who would believe the ramblings of an Elven convict slated to be executed?

She smiled, "Well, well... All this for a pretty face, I beg? What's the catch?"

"Catch? Why, maybe I am doing his out of the goodness of my heart. Do I look so cold to you?"

"No..." She swallowed, and gazed over at him suspiciously, "Bitterrock Kalcinski." She spat and hissed after using Dwarven tongue. "Some high profit mining boss in the Third Circle district. He's quite connected. You saw how it went for me, and I dare say I'm both slim, small and agile enough to be the shadow I was born to be. But I failed to reach him."

"Tell me Belethien, do you long for the shadows’ embrace once more?" Elu subtly looked her over critically, assessing her as his mother had taught him. She was indeed all she claimed, small and slim. Agility was also likely, considering her incapication of two Dwarven guards. She also was not thick either, foolhardy and naïve perhaps, but not ignorant. She could be useful indeed, if she accepted a few conditions.

"It's what I know, king." She avoided his gaze, bending her head down while rubbing her knees.

He chuckled deeply in the back of his throat, and leant down to grasp her chin and forced her gaze to meet his, "What price would you pay to be free again, to be able to live in the shadows once more?"

She looked up at him, a new fire in her eyes. "Whichever, whatever I can! I'm not ready to die..."

The smile on his face remained, but the joy left it, leaving it cold and cruel, "What if I demanded your complete loyalty? That you submit yourself to me completely? Would you still willingly pay to live?"

She frowned, "What makes you believe you can entrust me with that? Maybe I'll swear to you now, and plunge a dagger through that high born belly the very next day?"
"I can't, but I trust you won't. The same way you are trusting me not to rape you, here and now, and put a bastard in your belly." The idea of actually taking her appealed to Elu, much to his surprise. His thoughts of bedding someone usually revolved around Evhana, and for this young creature to inspire such desires in him were unexpected. Suddenly uncertain of what to do, Elu masked his hesitation with a wink and a grin.

She rattled her chains with a chuckling sound, "Can't very much rape me with these on me, now I can you? Surely it don't bend more flexible than a tree snake?"

"Who needs flexibility for that task? It may hurt you, but I'd achieve what I wanted." He waved his hand through the air, his smile warm again, pushing the slightly disconcerting thoughts away, "Regardless, I shall not be doing that. Aren't you lucky?"

She winked at him, with a seductive smile, "The luckiest girl in the world. Perhaps..." She meaningly eyed him up and down, "...you needed take what I could give?"

He laughed softly and shook his head, "I'll ask for you to work in the shadows for me, not warm my bed at night. If you need someone to be with you like that, find someone who can actually care for you, not use you like a tool." A complete and utter lie on his part, he reflected silently. Her warming his bed, being close and intimate with him, caused a slightly embarrassing growth to occur in his breeches. Ignoring the unexpected action of his body, Elu tried to force his mind away from the tribal girl’s seductiveness, and rather focus on using her for what he planned, the elimination of those he would rather see gone without using his mother’s resources.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Works for me. You got yourself a deal, boy."

"Boy?" He grinned at her as he stood up, "It's good to hear someone call me what I am. Here." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys on a ring, and tossed them to her, "They'll unlock your chains, and all the doors leading out of here. After that, find a way to kill Kalcinski. If you can do all of that, come to my chambers and meet with me. I have great use for a woman who can work with skill in the shadows. If you fail, needless to say I won't be there to save you. Live, and you will be rich. Fail, and you die. Anything else I need to say?"

She took the keys, and returned his crooked smile, "No more than the Dwarves drowning sounds in his own blood needed be said."

"Well then, I hope to hear from you soon Belethien. Try to avoid dying." Turning away, he went outside into the corridor, and called for the guard. The Dwarf hurried over, and with a quick glance inside the cell, locked the door and escorted Elu away. As they trudged silently up the winding passageways, Elu was certain he heard a faint clink of an iron door being pushed open. Smiling to himself, the Underking walked leisurely up and out of the prison.

---

Elu finds a useful prisoner named Belethien, whom he puts to work as an assassin under his sole employ.

In the dead of night deep into the western portion of Greater Ordivantes, Einir and his followers cautiously approached the ruins. Battered stone walls, covered in moss, and building foundations so eroded they looked like natural formations. This was considered the oldest settlement in all of the wildlands, or was any way. They saw in the distance the low lighting from dying embers of a campfire. As Einir and his crew drew upon the site they were stunned.

“What killed them?” Einir queried aloud. All around them the quarry that they had hunted for the past few days now laid slain and strewn across the ruins. The young heir sommanded, “search for clues as to who did this, and any signs if they have remained. Adalard find a better position than this for the party to hold up until we are finished here.”

“At once sir.” The huscarl said with the wilder salute, standing to attention while placing the right fist across the left of the chest. Then he left with a couple of other men.

What an unsettling place, Einir Tudonii thought to himself as he examined the locale. The immediate area was half surrounded by thick walls made of brick and mortar, with a concrete center that could be seen in the collapsed breaks in the walls. Some of the glass windows remained intact after who knew how long, but where fogged from age. It would be easier to see through the brick than these windows now. Cut holes in the interior of the walls showed where wooden support beams for the roof, and a second floor had been before rotting away. Clay shingles of said roof carpeted much of the stone floor, which now had patches of grass sprouting from the cracks.

The thugs that had managed to elude him in the rolling plains of the heiber lands now were very still. Wearing the leather armor and dara band symbols that Einir had grown to despise, if he couldn’t stop the hunt there could be another attempt on his family’s life. Borderline obsessed with victory now the young heir felt like he was cheated, for he had not taken the lives of the enemy himself. Looking at one of corpses he felt no remorse, the man died quickly a single deep cut from the right shoulder to the left hip. Most likely he went into shock before he bleed out so his suffering was not too severe, a pity his ilk deservers more pain.

Scanning the room with his torch he could imagine what happened here. They didn’t know they were under attack until several of their friends had expired. While there were no weapons left behind, most of the men that seemed to have been guarding the entrances to the site had arrow wounds. Either a single shot to the heart, or the throat. Some even had knife cuts slitting their throats, with bruising over their mouths, most likely the killer muffled the calls for help. At some point the men noticed that their comrades where vanishing so they formed a circle, getting back to back. By the looks of the bodies many died in that position. They were rushed from several directions, which means there had been multiple assailants. After their initial formation failed some began to backpedal away, which exposed their allies to flanking blows. The footprints showed that some of the victims of this massacre managed to run away, for how long Einir could not discern from this site.

“Sir” huscarl Adalard called out on approach after twenty minutes of scouting. “I managed to find a place to hold up, and best of all it has some roofing.” He said as he glanced to the sky at the sound of thunder. It would rain soon and the party needed to rest somewhere dry.

“Very well,” Einir nodded then he shouted to the rest of his men, “form up we are changing position!” They all followed Adalard to the shelter he discovered. It was a Small opening in the ground, most likely what once was doorway to a cellar. Not the most spacious spot yet I see no other options, Einir considered to himself. After lots were drawn to watch the horses it began to drizzle and the party made their way inside.

It was rather quiet for the next few hours, whoever had killed the conspirast must have left afterwards, or at least that is what they thought. “NEEEEIIIGGGHHH!!!” came the loud bellowing of the horses from above. Einir scurried up from the ground where he had slept and rallied the men to check. Uponleaving the shelter Einir saw the tail end of the horses scattering off in every direction, except for one that had been killed to ensure the beasts of burden where motivated to leave. Among the equine dead was one of the guards left to guard them, and arrow still in his chest. “WWOOHHarrrgggbllggll” the other man’s war cry cut off into gurgled silence not far away and the whole party rushed over to help their dying comrade.

Staying in a large group for safety the party slowly entered an old courtyard, it was filled with bramble, and only a few shattered arches stood. In the center on a dried out fountain was the now dead comrade, his throat cut out. “Fan out the attacker could not have gone far,” Einir ordered his followers. The rain was pouring down on them which meant if the assailant left they could not track him properly. There was very little light too from the moon being covered partially by storm clouds, and their torches barely being lit in the downpour. Lighting shout down at a nearby tree catching it on fire, the light blinded them all, and the thunder was deafening. After regaining his senses Einir cussed, “damnation,” at the sight of several more of his men dead. “Get into the schiltron,” he bellowed. He and his men formed back to back, two men deep, the first man kneeling and the other standing, both shields raised.

An arrow shot out catching one of them in the eye, as he fell another struck Einir’s shield. Then he saw them wearing hauberks with a vest of bone riveted on top, their helm’s were animal skulls, their greaves bone plates, the gauntlets leather with iron guards. “Ankuo!” one of his comrades shouted in fear. The ‘holy’ order of fighters that strived to maintain balance in the wildlands, these must be their commandos. In the limited light Einir could see the closest one charging unsheathe a silver bastard sword. The other shot more arrows at the party’s bulwark, managing to wound a few of them. The charging Ankuo made motion to slash, as one of the men raised his shield for a side block the Ankou feigned, and then stabbed the poor man’s face. After that an arrow struck the man behind him opening up the formation. Despite the long blade the assailant managed to maneuver it between them with ease slashing the backs of those not able to react in time to turn around. As they did a few were killed by the arrows of the other Ankou commando.

“Fuck it!” Einir cried as he lunged at cut the meleeing foe’s arm. This gathered the full attention of the man, as he slowly turned his head and locked eyes through the skull mask. The young heir Einir then fought his toughest fight yet. Never able to take the offensive he parried and blocked, cuts, stabs, and pommel strikes. Behind the foe Einir saw as the rest of his men fall to the other Ankuo, who now was using two small blades to slash them, dodging every single one of their attacks. Until he ran into Adalard who at least put up some resistance, even managing to block a strike to the Achilles tendon, and kick the foe in his face. This dance did not continue for long because soon Adlard was defeated falling to the ground with a blunt blow to the back of his head, by the commando’s armored elbow. Soon Einir was fighting two at once. He quickly tried to parry a strike from one, but the other foe purposely caught his sword with Einir’s blade and forced it down. Then searing pain shot up his back as two short blades stabbed through his chain mail, at the lower back and right shoulder blade. In a last act of defiance the heir spit at the enemy standing before him. Then the Ankuo raised his bastard sword and brought the hilt hard against Einr’s face, knocking him unconscious.

---

Reports state that during his investigation Einir Tudonii went missing in action, along with all members of his party.

The alley way was full of dust, me and the farmer's boys had been practicing our sword fighting skills for hours, kicking up dust, making wild movement, but it made my dream of becoming a soldier alive, the adrenaline made my come alive, jumping forward, jumping backward, left, right, dodge, attack, roll, attack again, trying to get the one opposing you down, and keeping yourself alive and well.

''Aeneas! Drop those twigs, or swords as you may call them, and prepare the forge for me!''
My father had yelled to me, he hadn't been too busy with his blacksmithing lately, work wasn't easy to come by, a few fancy knights here and there, maybe a few sell-swords looking for a quick fix or a sword, but whenever a costumer did arrive I always had to help my father.
''We will catch up to you later Aeneas.'' the farmer's boys had said, as they kept striking at each other with the sticks.

I shoveled coals into the forge and with a quick flash of steel on flint a spark set the coals afire, I closed the hatchet and the heat quickly filled our brick house, even if the forge was outside, it was nice to have this heat during the winter, though during summer not so much, too warm. I saw my little brother sitting at the dinner table through the windows, reading a book or another, my father had never really liked that too much, he preferred manual labor above reading, though my father had never learned to read, only my brother. He was trained by Rais, the priest of Thaanos, he would sit days on end reading together with Rais, only a boy of eight, and yet he probably knew more than me and my father combined.

My father came out with his tools, hammer, chisel, his grabbers and all the other tools, I started pumping the air into the forge, the fire roared and the heat shot up through every opening filling everything with heat.
''We will finally get some coin for food again soon boy, a few mercenaries or so would like their armor fixed, good coin they are paying!''
He smiled at me.
''Why will we need the forge if we are only fixing?'' I asked, wondering, as father generally didn't need to melt anything to mend anything.
''I didn't tell you about the best part yet boy...''
He kept himself in a long silence, he seemed so excited however.
''...we are to forge a sword, a sword like no other in this region, a kind we had never made before!''
My father was always excited forging new stuff, he didn't particularly like making the same stuff over and over, but if it brought in coin it kept us alive, though rare swords often made us more income.

It had taken us days to forge it, me and my father, whilst my brother had kept to himself, as for me I hadn't even taken a break, but it was well worth it. That was for sure, it was a shame however that we would have to sell it on, it was very foreign looking nearly, as my father had explained however it was after Azeratii design, after having seen a glimpse of the guards of Ares, my father had known what he would've liked to forge next time he got an occasion to do so, and this would be the sword, though a hundred times shinier, a thousand times sharper, kissed by fire and water, the balance perfect for a one handed sword, an edged tip for thrusting.

The payment was quickly made, that was for sure, anyone would've payed a lot and quickly for a sword like that, though seeing these men that bought the sword fueled my fire for being a soldier, swords make men look like gods, and give them the power of death...

Elu glared at the paperwork on the table before him, certain that the pile was increasing rather than decreascing, regardless of the amount of time he put into sorting through it. So many things needed his attention, the shortage of good-quality pickaxes, the latest violence between the Orcs, Elves and Dwarves, the breakdown of yet another forge, the latest import figures, and so much more. He was wary of delegating overly much to his council, despite the fact that he could justify handing over at least half the immediate workload to a number of them, solely due to the fact that their loyalty was still in question. He was Underking in both name and practice, but old Clan loyalties ran deep, and those who sat on his council remembered the reign of the past two Garhold Underkings with little fondness, a problem that was compounded by his being an Elf.

Signing another paper for the execution of yet more thugs and marauders who were making their home in Yurdaest, Elu’s ears pricked at the sound of someone near-silently approaching him. It was a trait he had inherited from his mother that he was forever grateful for, her family’s keen hearing, and as he grasped the plain dagger he kept concealed under his tunic he wondered whether it would save his life now.

Before he could so much as begin to wonder who was coming to kill him, Belethien strolled into view. Elu relaxed himself, just becoming aware of how tense he had been, as he realized that it was merely his latest agent reporting in rather than an assassin coming to slay him. Looking her up and down, he noticed that despite her top being sullied with blood, and the knife she carried proudly still wet with the blood of her target, she seemed strange attractive. Grinning at him, she spoke dreamily as she emphasised her words with dagger slashes in the air, "It's so much easier when given a second chance. He didn't even have an opportunity to scream..."

Giving her a small smile, Elu nods approvingly at her, "So you managed to do it. I was skeptical, I will admit, but I am glad you have proven me wrong... How do you feel?"

She rotated the dagger in her hand and paced around the room. "Alive? What more can I say. He's dead, I am not. I'm not really willing to give him the satisfaction of lingering with any more thoughts on it."

"Taking a life does have some... interesting effects on people, I have noticed." Standing up, he looked at the bloodied dagger in her hand, and her stained clothes with slight distaste as he motioned for her to follow him. While her tainted attire did not bother him in the slightest, he was concerned what others may think if they saw blood smeared on the floor of his personal chambers. "Come this way, before you spill any more blood on the floor."

She licked her lips, and reluctantly sheathed her dagger as she followed him, "I don't mind it, you know! Just surprised that the sweet boy of the sweet princess would hire an assassin in his ranks."

"Sweet? Oh, right. Sweet. Yes, that is me and my mother." Smiling to himself he walked through his chambers before eventually walking into a room with a steaming pool. Motioning at it, he turned to her, "You can clean yourself here. Yurdaest has a number of hot springs, and this one is all for the Underking and his family. I'll go get you some fresh clothes, if you want." The thought of his mother and himself being regarded as sweet was a strange thought. He could understand how Evhana managed to portray herself as being a sweet, innocent, thing, after-all, she had spent her entire life pretening to be such. Elu, on the other hand, had long since stopped pretending to be a sweet, childish, character. He was out-performed by his younger brother, with his genuine emotions, so Elu had settled for the more comfortable role of kindly, but aloof. The common conception of nobility, when the nobles imagined were not entirely loathed by their underlings.

Belethien blushed, and rubbed at her arms, "I... I guess. These are a bit used and conspicuous, aren't they? Creator knows what was in those cells that may've entrenched themselves in the cloth. Or that Dwarf's bedroom..."

"Yes, the prison is not a very clean place, nor do I intend to change that. Regardless, use this bathing pool when you see fit."
She looked over at the pool, and then to Elu, "I don't know what to say. Thank you..."

"It's nothing, Belethien." The sincerity of her tone brought immediate suspicion to the mind of the young Underking. She could not mean the truth, not after all she had been put through, in his name. Being bound and gagged, pushed through a show trial, and chucked in lightless cell with the knowledge that soon she was to be executed should have left her bitter, not sweet. She had to be lying. A small murmur in the back of his head raised the worrying possibility that she was genuine. What that would mean, he did not know.

"Call me Bel." She said, as she swiped her bang to her side. Moving over to the pool with her back turned towards him, she started to remove her modest brass jewellery, and pulled off her top. Elu glanced over to her, and coloured slightly, before returning his gaze fixedly to the floor. The sight of milky white skin, free of the cloth she clad herself in, did little to ease his attraction to her. Trying to remember that he had brought her into his service for her potential, not her looks, Elu pushed the desire for her away. With a swift swipe, she had pulled off her loincloth and stockings, and descended into the water after she'd thrown her clothes to the side. She cleaned herself with dutiful care, all in silence, her cheeks red from Elu's presence.

Moving silently, he quickly collected her clothes and exited the room, his pace fast as his thoughts swirled tumultuously through his mind. Trying to calm himself, Elu took a deep breath and veered off down a passageway that looked similar to all the others. Opening the door to one of the many unusued rooms of the Royal Levels, Elu walked over to a dust-covered chest and prepared to open it. With great care, the young Elf disengaged the spring blade trap of the chest, and stood to the side as he opened the lid. Giving the items in the chest a cursory glance, quickly satisfied that nothing had been tampered with, Elu placed Bel’s dagger inside the container and re-engaged the trap. As he exited the room, making sure it appeared as untouched as usual, he couldn’t help but feel a tad foolish. He was certain that he didn’t, or wouldn’t, need the dagger Bel used to kill that Dwarven magnate to prove her guilt, but his mother had always taught him to be careful and hedge his bets. Shaking himself, the young Underking went in search of the washing rooms.

As he entered the room he came across his personal servant, Milatha, who was dutifully cleaning his own clothing. Silently passing the clothing to her, which she accepted without comment, he lingered for a moment looking at the tribal Elf curiously. She had saved his life, and for that he had taken her into his service. She was his servant, completely and utterly, but she did not seem to begrudge him of that. Loyalty was truly a strange thing. Shrugging to himself, he grabbed a dress that seemed to be Milatha’s from a hamper, and wandered back to the bathing chambers. Belethien was too much for him, he decided as he hesitated before entering. Something about her was overriding his reason, much as Evhana did to him, and perhaps it would be best she either was killed or sent away. Perhaps though, he thought with dawning realization, that actually using her as he desired would be the best course of action. He would spare his mother his supposedly wayward affections, and would in the same blow tie his agent closer to him. Slowly thinking the idea over, Elu pushed the door open and wandered inside.

Belethien was still in the bath, methodically cleaning her hair. Taking a moment to enjoy the sight, Elu approached her from behind and placed the dress gently on the floor. Speaking softly, Elu let his eyes wander over the tribal’s body, "All that my servant had that seemed to be your size was a dress, I am afraid. Pretty to look at, but not very practical."

She twirled her hair to press the moisture out, shielding her bosom with the free arm. She looked at him with a pout forming, and her brow furrowed, "Looks like a prison in a fabric form. I've never worn a dress before..."

"That makes two of us." He said drily, glancing at the silken garment again, "I will give you the funds to buy yourself some proper clothes later, but for now this is all I can acquire. Unless you want to walk around naked, of course."

She chuckled, "Do you? I can't imagine it being custom for the Underking to walk in on a servant in the bath, peddling with dirty rags and bring fresh change."

He snaked up to her, and knelt before her, so his face was a mere inch away from hers. With a lazy smile, he whispered conspiratorially, "It isn't the norm, no, but you are not just any servant, are you?"

She grinned wide, and looked up at him beyond her raven bangs, "Can't say I am. Quite the bloodied one, isn't that so?"

"Yes, a trait I find rather endearing." Standing up, he frowned slightly and rubbed his hand through his shoulder-long white hair, "Ah yes, I almost forgot. Your quarters will be in this very same complex. The Underkings of the past expanded the royal level ridiculously; so many rooms are vacant and go to waste. Yours will be tucked away, out of sight of prying nobles. You will be safe and secure, when you are not out performing some task that requires your special skills."

She laughed "Aw... After this fine new dress and revitalizing bath, you'd send me out of the fine halls grace so swiftly? And here I was starting to dream of feasts, and be dancing on the great ball." Bel said in a sarcastic tone.

"By all means, if you wish to grace the halls, go ahead. Just be prepared for probing questions and resentful glances. People would assume you were my lover." He grinned at her. Silently he hoped that she would not try and make herself known to the Yurdaestii court. She would become the focus of plots and schemes against him, and with his uncertain feelings towards her still unresolved, he was not sure how effectively he could deal with such issues.

She giggled, "Oh, I'm sure you would mind that. Worry not. They won't even know I'm here, and festivities were never really my thing. I'm quite content just having four walls, a bed... Maybe wouldn't mind such a grand hot spring pool such as this though. Maybe I'll be able to afford it one day." She lent back her head over the edge, gazing at him, "If you don't go too cheap on those bodies you need disposed, that is."

"Don't fret Bel, I won't try and pay you poorly. Wouldn't dream of it." He looked down at her curiously, his face colouring slightly. Drinking in the sight of her pale skin, Elu felt the same compulsion that drove him to pursue his mother threatening to overwhelm him there and then. Bel had noticed his reaction to her presence.

"What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Shaking his head, Elu looked away, his voice terse, "Nothing." A lie, and a poorly concealed one. No doubt she had seen right through him.

She shrugged her shoulders... "Fine by me." ...before descending back down into the water, and cleaning her arms with a cloth.

Elu looked back over to her, his eye twitching as he looked her over. After a minute, he spoke with a playful tone, "Will you scream if I hop in there with you?" It was no use, he decided. He had to relieve himself of his need, and she did not seem entirely opposed to him either. As she smirked lightly, he felt a strange rush of giddy excitement sweep over him, in preparation for what was going to occur. Motitoning for him to join her, Elu quickly stripped himself of his clothes and lowered himself into the steaming pool. Smiling over at her, Elu chuckled affectionately, "You know, you can say no to me, right? You aren’t exactly some servant to wait on me, hand and foot."

Her cheeks reddened slightly, as she moved her leg to shield her womanhood, and her arm still covering her breasts, "It wasn't that long ago your executioners axe was hovered over my neck... I don't know whether to feel grateful for your mercy, in awe of your generosity, or hate you for ever putting me in a situation of nothing but paralysing and hopeless fear. If I'm not a servant under your grace, then what am I?"

"Who knows?" He shrugged, his tone becoming more serious, "You may become my confidant, my friend, my lover, my wife..." He smiled as he mentioned marriage, "...But all of that is hardly going to happen immediately. As it stands, you are someone I feel I can trust and use, but who will not bore me with the endless platitudes and bowing that those regular servants do... You are not my servant, but you are not my equal either." He tilted his head at her, his gaze wandering lazily over her body, "What do you want to be? Simply free of me, and all of this, perhaps?"

She frowned, "And pass on an opportunity for a stable life, shielding walls, coin and no marauding Orcs? I think not." She descended deeper into the pool, and looked at him with a stern expression. "You do not want me."

He blinked, startled, caught off-guard, "What?" Of all the reactions he had expected from her, this was not one of them. He thought he was being obvious in his attraction to her, but it seemed she felt otherwise.

"Friend, lover, confidant, wife. Whatever. I'm a wilder, tribal trash. No embroideries surround my name. Damn be, I don't even have a family name, but the memory of two soft gullible parents living out of whatever scraps could be found under rocks or beside the bark of trees. These markings will always reveal who I am. You know this as well as I do."

"And my father was a half-breed bastard, who won Yurdaest by butchering his own kith and kin." Elu moved beside her, his frown matching hers, "My mother is... Unique, and I am, inarguably, insane. Yet, here I stand. You may be a tribal, you may be lowborn, but you are far from useless. As for wanting you..." His expression lightened, a small grin dancing across his lips, "It would be a lie to say I didn't."

She laughed "Truly you are insane, bathing naked and unarmed in the same pool as a girl with nothing to lose. What's to say I'm not hired by someone else, tasked to get close and gut you in your sleep?" She said with a mischievous, and playfully sinister tone.

He laughed quietly and looked at her from the corner of his eye, "I did a bit of investigating of your background when you 'disappeared' from my prison. None of my agents reported you being in contact with anyone who would have the sufficient resources, or motivation, to see me dead."

She chuckled, "Aren't you the resourceful one, Underking. Should I be offended, or flattered?"

"Just Elu will be fine... Maybe a bit of both would be appropriate." Reaching out with his hand, he gently fondled her hair, smiling faintly as he did so.

She grinned as she stroked his arm, "Well I am quite flexible in many things... Why not my state of mind?" Elu grinned at her and nuzzled at her neck. Her playful giggling filled his ears, and soon her voice and whispers consumed him. Time ceased to have meaning, and he could not tell if mere minutes had passed, or several hours. Their cries of pleasure filled the chambers, and when they had finished giving their all to each other, Elu looked down at her curiously, his breathing raw and ragged. She was not at all like the first woman he had bedded. Belethien was special to him, he realized, was dear. He wanted her close.

Bel seemed to notice his attention and looked up at him to meet his gaze, "What?" She panted, "What's wrong?" Her face was flushed from their time together, and her arms were wrapped tightly around him. Even after all had been done, she still clung close to him. It gave Elu hope that she felt something as well.

"Nothing... I just... Normally I don't feel like that, about anyone. I don't know how you made me act like that, feel like that..." He didn’t quite understand why he felt the need to tell her all of this, but she seemed to take it well.

She giggled, and hummed, stroking his chin, "I'll take that as a compliment. Maybe that you'd even like it." She moved her hands to feel at his strong arms, and laid her head upon his shoulder, "You should have warned me it was for but a quick retreat, and be happy it wasn't the right time of the moon. Wouldn't want it to start grow in me, now would we?"

Elu looked down at her, conflicting emotions running across his face, before he let it soften into a smile and kissed her brow, "No... But if that did happen, I would take care of you." A bastard child would be a complication, and an unnecessary one as things currently stood. He did not need one, nor did she, so it would be best avoided. But, if it did happen, he could hardly turn his back on his own flesh and blood. Not if Bel was the mother.

She laughed into his chest, her warm breath upon his skin, "You say I can't care for myself? I thought you just awoke with surprise how well I took care of you..."

"I did..." He admitted reluctantly, "...But I wouldn't leave you to fend for yourself if you bore me a child."

"Well..." She reached up and tapped his nose, "Let's hope that doesn't happen anytime soon. Not much use of a pregnant assassin, no?"

"Aye. Would make your work harder than it already is... Speaking of work, there are some Dwarfs I will need you to visit soon, but all that can wait till the morning."

She looked more stern, and nervously rubbed the back of her neck, "Yeah. Yes, of course." Speaking of her work had quickly killed her mood like little else, but that didn’t matter. His needs had been satisfied, so now she could be used, once more, as she was meant to be. For the elimination of threats to his rule.

"The morning is still far away..." Giving her a smile, he rose from the pool and wiped himself down with a towel. Turning to look at her, his expression was one of curiosity, "Do you want me to give you some time alone, or do you want come and share my bed for the night?"

"I..." She rushed up from the water with near agile speed, measuring the dress between her fingers, with her back turned to him, "I should probably look into that room you spoke of, right? Make sure everything is in order. Get some rest for the job tomorrow."

"Good idea." He murmured as he walked up to her from behind, and held the towel out for her, "I'll get changed and send Milatha, my personal servant, down to show you the way. I left too much paperwork unfinished for me to sleep yet. Is there anything else you'd think you'd need?"

"No!" She said, slightly startled, yet clad in a smile, "No. It's fine. Thank you." She let the dress slink over her head down her body, fitting neatly against her young athletic body. While walking rather awkwardly around, she moved to leave his quarters, "I guess I'll see you in the morning, then?"

Watching her with a faint smile, Elu dipped his head, "I'll see you in the morning."

She opened the door, and with a last blushing smile, she looked back at him before she closed it after her. As the door shut behind her, Elu shook his head. These new feelings for this tribal woman would be a source of many problems down the road, he foresaw, but maybe, just maybe, it would all be worth it.

---

Bards Tale

Elu and Bel have sex, with Elu fearing he may be falling for the tribal Elf.

The Troubles of Being Underking​

Dark thoughts swirled through the Underking’s head as he paced back and forth in his chambers, his teeth grinding from frustration. He had received a report from his spymaster, a Dwarf his mother had vouched for as an adequate replacement for her, that confirmed his fears. Yurdaest could be about to face another uprising, another pretender to the throne of the Underkingdom. Unlike the last pretender of over a decade ago, this Dwarf did not claim any lineage to the Garholds, but rather argued that Elu was not Quicksilver’s son. With his father dead and buried, and his mother remarried, it was not a far stretch of the imagination for one to assume she had been carrying on affair with her current husband, during her marriage to Quicksilver. The dead Dwelf had been strong, but not overly bright. He could have been tricked.

Snarling as he shook the doubts from his head, Elu’s tempo increased and his temper worsened. He was Quicksilver’s son, he had to be. Evhana had no reason to lie to him about such a fact. The pretender had just spun his lie well, was all. Well enough that it made even Elu doubt his parentage. In the end though, it did not matter if he was Quicksilver’s child or not. Yurdaest was his, and he was damned if he would surrender it to some base-born Dwarf.

The rustle of silk against skin and stone caught his attention, and it was not with much surprise that he saw Belethien when he whirled around. She looked as lovely as ever, though her face had become jaded from her work. He did not know whether it was killing her on the inside, or making her more like him. Either way, she remained useful, so he supposed it did not matter. It was only when he she spoke to him in her soothing voice that Elu realized he had been staring, "Did you call for me, Elu?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Elu felt the black cloud of anger once again swallow him. His voice was little better than an animal-like snarl as he snapped at her, "Yes! A Dwarven noble has gone too far! He needs to die, and gruesomly! His death will serve as a lesson!"

She sniggered, leaning against the wall informally. "What has he done to offend you?"

Hissing in anger, Elu grabbed the paper off the table and held it out for her to read. Turning back around Elu tried to calm himself by taking a steadying breath, "Publically lynching loyalists to me, organizing attacks on Elf, Dwarf and Orc, this creature has claimed that since I am not a pure-bred Dwarf, that I am probably not even my father's son!, he deserves to wear the Crown!" It was exhilarating to feel this rush of anger flowing through him, this primal need to hurt and kill. He was enjoying it too much though, allowing himself to much luxury. Slowing down his breathing, he felt his heart relent from hammering inside his chest to resuming its regular, steady, beating.

Bel blushed as her careful attempt at a cheerful mood was quickly thwarted. Eyeing the paper still, turning it inside out as she blushed and returned it. "It sounds... Most sinister. I can guess of what you will ask me next."

Elu looked her from the corner of his eye and gave her a thin smile, "You are a clever one. Yes. Deal with him. Soon." Elu shook himself and stalked over to a cabinet, opening it and retrieving a large flagon of wine. Pouring both of them a generous portion, he took both goblets and returned to her. Holding out one, his tone was calmer, friendlier, "Please, have a drink with me. I need to... unwind." It was a bad habit he had adopted since his mother left, he knew, but it seemed like an ideal way to relax. Drinking dulled the senses, and allowed him to feel normal for a time, if there ever was such a thing as normalcy. He was beginning to drink more and more these days, as the problems seemed to increase no matter how hard he worked. As soon as he finished one issue, two more would take its place, as well as a third arising from his solution to a previous problem. Perhaps this was a battle he could never win.

Belethien carefully took the cup, seating herself in a fine sofa standing in his room. "It's not clever to know ones work. I know why I'm here, I know what I do. Then again, who am I to refuse a good wine for free should the offer arise?" She took a heavy gulp, smacking her lips.

Sitting down beside her, Elu drank deeply from his glass, his expression blissful. Eventually his lips left the cup, and he let out a contented sigh, the wine already working to dull his senses and blunt his thoughts, "Normally I can't stand these drinks, but I find it relaxes me like little else when these... matters of state become rather overwhelming."

Bel lent back informally, and closed her eyes. "You are quite young to take all this responsibility upon yourself. Why would your mother even consider leaving you with disbanding the regency so soon? Don't they say Deep Elves are obsessed with the safety and well being of their spawns?"

Elu blinked, and responded carefully, "She wouldn't have left if I hadn't commanded it. It was for her own safety." Bel may not be as intuitive as Evhana, or perhaps was not simply as paranoid, but this sort of issue had to be handled with care, lest she suspect something was afoot.

She waved at him, dismissively, "Dear... You are giving women far too little credit to their strength and resourcefulness." Bel smiled at him, "Remember it was her sister that led the Light armies to crush the Dark scourge."

"I remember." Elu murmured softly, as he took another generous gulp of his wine, vaguely aware that his tongue was looser than it should be, "But this danger was one she could not fight against, nor I help her with. The danger would forever threaten to consume her if she remained here, but it would not follow her back to Galadriel... I miss her, but it was for the best."

Bel opened her mouth to speak, but held herself, instead taking another healthy gulp to empty her cup, signalling eagerly for a refill with a sly smile. Elu snapped out of his little reverie and chuckled as he took her glass, finishing his own as he stood up. Wandering back to the cabinet, he called out to her as he prepared their drinks, "I wouldn't have thought you were one to enjoy wine quite so much."

"If it's free, my dear. Then it all tastes better. I'll let you know I've feasted on plenty fine Elven wine in my youth! Had my first flagon at the age of nine, I did." The way she kept on referring to him as dear made him feel queer on the inside, strangely pleasant and warm. He wanted to hold her close, but instead simply smiled.
Elu laughed as he returned with the two glasses, both of which were nearly overflowing with wine, "As I said, the stuff never appealed to me before I started to have to worry about all the duties of an Underking." Handing her the glass in his right hand, he sat down next to her, already sipping from the one held in his left.

She slurped in the topmost thick of the beverage to make it more manageable to hold, humming contently. "It's your privilige I suppose. You paid for it in the first place. No need for it to gather dust in some murky dull cupboard..." She grinned at him, "You do rather complain most heavily upon a burden you took on yourself early, however. If you're to drink for something, drink for the merry of it. Not to cure the dull parts of life. In fact, I heard that could be quite the dangerous occupation, making the mind only heavier and resentful."

Elu's expression darkened slightly as he nodded slowly. He was aware that his dead father had been, for lack of a better term, a drunk. He may have been half-Dwarf, and could easily drink like one, yet he still drank to excess. Elu, on the other hand, found he had not inherited such a, supposedly, enviable quality. Just a few glasses of wine were enough to send him to sleep. "Yes, I've heard that as well... I suppose I better be more careful. Good thing you are here Bel, otherwise I would likely drink myself into a stupor."

"And be so terribly lonely..." She snickered mischievously, hustling closer to him on the couch, daringly planting a soft kiss on his earlobe. Elu’s mind, previously disturbed by the realization that he would become a drunk if he continued to drink whenever he felt stressed, quickly focused on the tribal girl to his right. Her sweet sent filled his senses, and Elu looked over at Bel longingly, smiling as he reached out to stroke her neck, "I would be... Don't ever leave me."

She made a pleasing sound at his touch, leaning her free arm on his shoulder, kissing softly at his cheek, "You do so like stroking me there..." She giggled and took a gulp from her glass. She appeared to be able to carry as much wine as he could, something he was silently grateful for. As she continued to move closer to him, almost purring with pleasure, Elu decided he rather liked seeing Bel like this. Tipsy, and more than a bit aroused, seemed to describe both of them perfectly.

He grinned as he drank some of his own wine, his fingers dancing across her skin, "To feel your heartbeat so warm and strong against my hand, well, it makes me feel alive like little else."

She giggled, girlishly so, blushing deeply, "I didn't take you for the romantic, dear. For a moment I believed you only took me for a distraction, one to be discarded when he so well pleased. Are you going to make a girl start dreaming, Elu? That, perhaps, he even enjoys her presence near."

"It does not upset me when you are close, no." Elu's hand drifted away from her neck, and down around her waist, pulling her close to him. Burying his face in her raven hair, he murmured to her endearingly, "My father offered to give up this Underkingdom for my mother, all out of a sense of love... I didn't understand how one could do such a thing, could promise such an act. But I do now."

Bel shivered, and moved her hand to caress his cheek, feeling at his strong shoulders as her calm breathing took a soothing rhythm. "Such a realisation for such a short time together. Don't speak such things... I'll be your lover, not your downfall..." Elu wasn’t sure of what he was saying, the words spilling out before he could think them through. He inwardly cursed the wine for making him speak like a fool, yet wondered if what he was mumbling on about was how he truly felt.

"To give up on Yurdaest would not be my downfall..." Elu placed his goblet aside and softly kissed her on her forehead, whispering into her ear as he did so, "Would you have me put aside my crown for you?"

She looked near inches from his face, and emptied the remainder of her goblet in one single stretch, before throwing it away bluntly on the floor, letting a tipsy chuckle escape her mouth, "And give up all this fine, free wine? It must really be eating at your wits!" She bit at her lower lip, in a rowdy seductive smile. Taking his hand, leading it across her belly, and tucking it inside her leather breeches to feel at her warm. "You're young, will feel many emotions I'm sure. Just enjoy this while it lasts, and perhaps I can even teach you a thing or two."

"I'm young am I?" Elu's hand began to stroke her womanhood gently, "You are not that much older than me... But if I am to enjoy this while it lasts, better it is done on something more comfortable." Retrieving his hand, he swung her up off her feet and swiftly carried her over to his bed, kissing her deeply on the lips as he laid her down. She laughed, merrily, at his initiative, with almost unnatural flexibility, pulled him by his collar, to have him lay on top on her, working on to loosen his trousers, while interlocking him in their kiss. The kiss sent his head spinning, and soon all he could focus on was the pretty young beneath him, with her warm breath, murmured endearments, and gasps of pleasure. All too soon, it felt, it was over, and Elu found himself holding her in a tight embrace.

Stirring slightly, Elu moved to a more comfortable position next to Bel, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the desperation of their love-making. Turning his head to look at her, Elu kissed her neck affectionately, a smile on his face. She turned her head to leave him free reign, smiling endearingly and wide, "You're a swift learner." She panted, gasping at his soft kisses, cooing into the linens, "A good student is so hard to reward, when the very lecture is a reward in and of itself."

Kissing her along her neck, working his way up to her face, Elu whispered to her with a chuckle, "There is something I wouldn't mind being rewarded with..." A thought drifted through his head, a strangely pleasant one, of a swaddled babe being cradled in the young tribal’s arms.

"Pray tell..." She mumbled, caressing his chest with her nails, gently.

His hand sneaked to rest on her belly, and as his lips reached her cheek he softly murmured, "A child."

She stopped breathing for a moment, and turned her head to look at him with a puzzled smile, as if she didn't take what he said seriously, "Not only a romantic, but a comedian as well."

He grinned at her, planting a quick kiss on her lips, "It wasn't a joke." The idea was strangely appealing, though as his head felt awkwardly weightless, Elu wasn’t sure if it was sensible. Regardless, it kept on coming back to him, and he couldn’t make the thought disappear.

She stared at him, her face taking a turn for the malign, "You're serious." She chuckled, and squirmed herself out of bed. "You are serious." She said, as she started to dress herself. "What's his name, this Dwarf that needs to die?"

He laughed as he sat up, his expression one of bemusment, though inwardly he cursed himself. Asking for a child, with no warning, from one as young as he was, was madness. A flight of fancy could serve to scare her away, and the thought of never seeing her again terrified Elu, as well as making him inexplicably angry. "If you had taken my request any other way, I would have been shocked... Ah well, maybe you'll come around soon. As for that Dwarf, he is a Bitterrock, from the same clan as the first one you killed. His name is Jan."

"Jan, fine. I'll see what I can do." She gave him a last peak of her naked breasts, a sight he did not hesitate to drunkenly drink in, as she diligently closed the knittings of her plain woollen shirt, "I want a different payment this time. A well dug into my apartments for fresh ground water in the morning, and one of those fancy marble baths they have in the desert. One of those they speak of in nursery rhymes, encircled by their slaves and servants. Not as grand, but at least something similar." She paused to eye him off with a slight frown, "Enough to fit a person at least."

He nodded lazily, trying to focus his thoughts, "It'll be done. There may be no slaves to surround your pool, but I am sure you will survive without them."

"That wasn't what I said. Just the same, smooth style. I don't want any strangers, or familiars in my home." Upset, she brushed out her hair, and started to tie it up into a more practical braid. "Some damn escape from this damp, heavy mountain air. Perhaps I'll go away during the construction, to the surface. Face the sun, refill my lungs and soul with something more natural. Could do well for you as well, to lift your mind perhaps."

"I didn't mean that, don't worry, I won't bring outsiders to your hearth and home." Elu said as he pulled himself from the bed, his tone concillatory. Walking up to her, casting around for his clothes, he gave her a crooked smile and kissed her on the cheek, "As for going to the surface... That sounds like a grand idea." As much as he longed for the kiss of the Sun and the wind in his air, he knew it would be folly to risk leaving Yurdaest at time like this. He would need to stay in his Mountainhome, would need to work on making the place loyal.

She snorted, clearly unimpressed by his answer, "What a way to dampen some fun." And with that, she snuck out the door. Elu watched her go, feeling inexplicably sad as her figure disappeared from sight. Giving up on finding his clothing, Elu decided he would rest for a few hours. Crawling back into his bed, Elu figured that while there were over a dozen things that needed his attention, regardless of whether he did them now or later, there would soon be a dozen more.

---

Bards Tale

Elu begins to feel the pressures of ruling an Underkingdom keenly, and is stopped from relying on drink to see him through his troubles by Belethien, his lover.

Elu walked into his chambers, his brow furrowed, as he methodically wiped his blood-splattered hands with a silken cloth. The prisoner had lasted several hours under his hands, and Elu felt a small sense of satisifcation in the way it had turned out. Ever since Bel had retreated out of Yurdaest, after his foolish request, Elu had found it strangely calming to take personal care of those prisoners who held information that could be useful. He had experience on how to best extract information from people, learnt from his mother, and it was all too easy to break a chained man with a few threats and minor wounds. That, however, did not satisfy him.

He had come to the decision that the best way to ensure that his control of Yurdaest was unquestioned, was to make sure that his subjects feared him. They would be no good to him if they believed him weak and incapable, yet he also had to control himself, make sure he did not go too far with his prisoners. He wanted rumours of supposed terrors being inflicted against his enemies to filter throughout Yurdaest, tales that would earn a snort of derision at first, but would worry the mind, and make people wonder if there was some truth to it. To encourage such rumours Elu had begun to flay his enemies, keeping them alive as he skinned them. It was difficult at first, the cutting being difficult to master, but now he could quickly and efficiently remove the skin of a dwarf within an hour. The Dwarf would likely die in the first twenty minutes, as blood-loss and shock would set in, but the preserved skin he would string up served a purpose that extended hours of torture did not. It earnt whispers from the gaolers, and for that he was satisfied.

His dark thoughts were interrupted as a familiar voice called to him from behind, "It's winter up there. Did you know?"

Elu smiled to himself as he threw the cloth aside onto a tabletop, and turned around to grin at the voice, "With the way it snows here, I consider the place in a permanent winter. Did you enjoy your trip?" He drank in the welcome sight of his lover, with her leather clothing and tattooed features. Bel smirked at his attentions as she wandered across the room.

"I didn't get very far." Bel said, as she threw herself onto an armchair, "Has my payment been finished?"

Elu dipped his head in confirmation, "Yes, all you asked for has been done." The cost of refurbishing her quarters had been higher than he had thought, as had the silencing of loose tongues, but if it kept her content, he would do it.

"Glad to hear it." She smacked at her lips as she eyed off his fingers, "What happened to you? Training got a little rougher than you'd imagined?"

"No, I had to pay a prisoner a visit." Elu muttered reluctantly, unwilling to tell her the truth, but even less willing to outright lie to her, "It was less than pleasant, but necessary."

Bel grunted, sporting a frown, crossing her arms as she weighed her leg over the other, studying him intensely, "I always knew there were something dark in you, you know. Something... Off. To torture an unarmed man, by your own hand? How did you become like this?"

Elu's expression darkened as he stalked across the room to the seat at his study desk, and stared at Bel, hard, "I've always been like this Bel, not quite right. The man was a murderer though, a rapist, unrepentant to the end. I needed to know that he was acting alone, that I am truly in control of Yurdaest. He gave me answers, some I wanted, others I didn't, and then he died. I did it because it needed to be done." What he said was partially true. The man did have some useful information, but it was not for that that he suffered. His hide was what Elu sought, and so he had bloodied his hands in getting it. He would have to cease such activities with Bel’s return though. He could not afford to scare her away. She meant too much to him.

"You know who else is a murderer?" She growled, meaningly.

Elu folded his arms and growled back at her, "He was going to die anyway, I merely sped things up!"

"I wasn't talking about you!" She roared, as she darted up from the chair, taking a few determined steps towards the wall, pinching her nose deep in troubled thoughts. Elu’s mind raced as he digested what she had said, before realization dawned on him.

Elu sighed and shook his head irritably, "Dammit woman, it has been a long day. If you meant yourself, you had just cause. He had nothing but his own cruelty and greed."

"Keep telling me that when I barely get any sleep at night..." She sat down on the floor, burying her head in her knees, "I'm fine. It just, returns to me sometimes, you know? The others didn't matter. It was work, it was paid, it was what I brought up to know and excel in. But that one? Every heartbeat and every surge of my nerve and fibres was filled with hate, hurt, and everytime I think of it, those same emotions re-emerge. Like they're a part of me now, a part I couldn't ever possibly cut away even if I'd please." Elu stood there silently, suddenly uncertain on what to do. Emotions, especially the ones she was feeling, where an enigma to him. He felt them on occasion, and basked delighted in the sensations they brought, but to feel emotion over past emotions? The concept seemed bizarre, almost unreal, but as Bel shivered on the floor Elu realized that it was real enough to her.

Elu stood up silently and walked over to the upset Elf, kneeling before her. Placing his hand on her shoulder, his voice dropped down soothingly, "The one you ended, the first one, what you did you did to honour your family. You may not see it as such, but by avenging them, you did not let their memory be despoiled. It will take time, but you will soon forget the one that brings you hurt."

"I am sure." She lent back and looked at Elu with a cautious smile, "It doesn't mean an open wound still hurt, my dear." She chuckled weakly, "In fact, I'd think myself a monster if it didn't."

He returned the smile, and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, "You are not me, or my blood, so you are no monster." As the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. To say something like that, even if he passed it off as a jest, was going to invite questions. She could end up learning far too much.

She smiled at first, but it ended with a sombre chuckle, "What's... What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say me and my mother are not as sweet as you first thought us." Standing up straight, he grinned down at her, "But I'm working on that."

There was a slight spark of fear in her eyes, as she tightened her grip around her legs. Elu blinked at her, allowing a faint look of hurt to flash across his face before he let the smile return, "Do not worry Bel. You are safe around me. I should be the one worried, letting my guard down near the wild viper."

She swallowed, hard, slowly rising from the floor, keeping herself hard pressed against the wall, a nervous smile spreading on her face, "You should, my dear. You should." Her eyes flickered around the room, upon his desk, towards his dresser and bed, "Where's the knife?"

He frowned slightly, confused, "What? What knife?"

"The one you took, just before you took me in your bath." She breathed hard, fiddling her fingers, "You don't have it still?"

"Oh, that... I still have it, away from prying eyes... Why?"

She looked down on the floor, her cheeks reddening, "Could I have it back?"

"Ah... Don't you trust me?" The realization hurt him, more than he thought it should. He was trying his best to be honest to her, to show her as much of him as he thought she could possibly stomach. Hadn’t he done enough?

"Elu... It's not like that..." She clenched her fists, "I'm just scared, don't you see that?"

Nodding silently, Elu retreated across the room. Reaching into his desk, there was a clicking sound, and a previously seamless part of the desk slid out to reveal its contents. Reaching inside the secret compartment with lightning speed, Elu quickly shut the drawer and walked back over to Bel, holding the dagger out to her, hilt first. He had moved the dagger into his study after she had left on her month-long outing, in the off-chance that she attempted to try and betray him. As much as the thought had stung at the time, and he had automatically denied such an idea, pragmatism won out, and he had moved the knife. Now he was giving back to her his most solid piece of evidence which cemented his control over her. He knew what he was doing was foolish, but he wanted her to see that she could trust him. That he would not hurt her.

She slowly reached out to take the knife, as slow one would reach to pet an angry tiger, "It's not you, Elu... Ok? You trust me, don't you?" She looked at him with a worried expression, It's not you, Elu... You hear?

Elu watched her carefully before letting out a small sigh, and giving her an encouraging smile, "I do trust you, probably more than I should... Take it, it's yours." She took it, and slipped it down beneath her belt on her back. Still avoiding his eyes, she was focusing on the carpet.

The Elven Underking reached a hand out and lifted her chin so he could look her in the eyes. Talking slowly and calmly, as if he was trying to soothe a wild animal, Elu studied Bel curiously, "Bel... What's wrong? Is it because of what I did? What I asked before you left?"

"Everything... Those hands of yours... The knife, the revelations, child? Why would you even ask it in the first place? You've a problem finding a bride or something? Must be more prestigious for you to have a spawn with a brothel whore than me."

Pulling her gently to the sofa, he sat down, bringing her down to rest beside him. Licking his lips, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "Deep Elves are... rather passionate creatures, as I am sure you know. In my case, my passionate nature it, well..." He shook his head and sighed, irritated that he could not find the right words, "What I am trying to say, Bel, is that I love you. I can't marry you, not if I want to try and hold Yurdaest together, but I can't bear the thought of creating distance between us..." He frowned as his normally quick responses came out clumsy and awkward, "A child... It would show Yurdaest I love you, and dispel some of the rumours that circulate about me being either impotent or queer... It makes sense to me... I should have talked to you about it, rather than just asking for it." His smooth tongue and ease at speech had gone, and in its place the mumblings of a fool sat. No matter how he tried to say it, he could not put words to his feelings and thoughts, or rather what he thought he felt. He loved her, he knew that much, but there was so much more driving him than mere love. Elu silently hoped that she would be able to make sense of his mutterings.

She frowned, and let out a sob, "You should've cut my head of while you had the chance..." She clasped his hands, "You say you feel that now, but what in a year then? I am totally, utterly, dependent on you. What if you wake up one day, realising you feel nothing like that at all? Then what am I stuck with but an army of enemies all on my own, or your mother for that sake?"

"That will never happen!" *Elu said heatedly, bringing her into a tight embrace, "Love does not dispel easily, especially not when I hold it for someone like you. I will protect you from those who would hurt you, my mother included." Kissing her on the neck, Elu buried his head into her hair and murmured softly to her, "You are mine, just as I am yours."

She sighed, and gasped, "Dare and take chances like a fool, while you're young enough to do it. It's what my grandmother used to say."

Laying down on the sofa, Elu pulled her on top of him and kissed her on the mouth long and softly. Breaking away for a moment, he smiled at her, "Does this mean you will take a chance on me?"

"I'm not ready for a child, Elu. Foolish boy... Just lay back and enjoy..." She ripped at his trousers as well as her own, eager to become one with him. Elu laughed at her willingness, and whispered to her as he pulled her vest off and let his gaze wander upon her bare skin, "Whenever you feel ready, I will be. But for now, then, let's just enjoy each other's company..." For the first time since she had left, Elu felt completely at ease. As he held her and moved with her, Elu recalled Bel’s suggestion from a month past, that he leave the Mountainhome for a time. Perhaps it was time to consider a break from his tasks, even if just for a week or two… As she groaned and whispered into his ear, Elu’s thoughts became glazed with pleasure, and he dimly decided that if he was to leave for a time, Bel would be coming with him.

---

Bards Tale

Elu decides that his best way of maintaing control of Yurdaest is to foster a climate of fear amongst those who would act out against him, by spreading rumours of supposed deeds committed by him and his servants against those who cross him. Bel also returns from her month-long wanderings, and makes Elu doubt her trust in him.

Blinking drowsily in his bed, Elu awoke. The gentle caress of the Sun brought a smile to his face, which only grew wider as he saw Bel curled up next to him, breathing softly. Silently rising up from the bed, Elu stretched and cast about for some clothes. He leisurly got dressed before wandering out of his room and onto the balcony, taking in a deep breath of the fresh forest air that he had come to miss during his time in Yurdaest.

The sound of sheets rustling caught his attention, and he smiled to himself as he looked over his shoulder at Bel, who was as stark naked as he had been mere minutes ago, "How are you liking Coal?"

She squirmed among the linens, stretching out into a sigh of relief, "This is a kingdom I could soon get accustomed to. Even in the chill of seasons, every inch of it stays warm and bright, and the nights under the shade of leaves cast shadows long and safe."

He chuckled affectionately, nodding at her, "Yes, Galadriel is a land quite unlike any other. A shame my Underkingdom is essentially an ant-nest inside a mountain. Ah well." Leaning back against the railing, Elu shut his eyes and basked in the warm glow of the Sun. She had urged him to leave Yurdaest for a time, to bring his mind off its dark path, as well to help relieve him of the burdens of ruling. He had been reluctant at first, but he found that moments like this made her advice ring true. Bel did not need to know, however, that he brought some of his work with him. There were some people that needed to disappear in Galadriel, and he would much rather oversee their deaths himself. It was not just for a relaxing vacation that he had come here.

Bel took off from the bed to get dressed after sleeping way overdue, "To think you were so frightened to leave your mountain. You'll see it will all work out well." As she was in the middle of putting on her shirt, the door was unlocked and steadily opened. In came Evhana, dressed per usual in her ebony white dress, with her unnaturally well adorned hair considering the early time of the day. She smiled out to them both, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the tribal, that had simply stopped moving when she heard the door be opened, and now stood with her shirt half way down and still covering her face.

"A good morning, I see?" Evhana chuckled.

Elu opened his eyes and smiled at his mother. Pushing himself off the balcony, he approached the white-haired Elf and gave her a warm embrace, "Aye, I can't complain. Good morning to you, mother." He felt slightly irritated at Evhana’s intrusion, though couldn’t remain angry at her for long. His feelings were still confused when she was involved, despite his attraction to Bel, so he resolved to simply detach himself when around her.

Bel shyly descended the shirt, a deep red blush spreading upon her face. She carefully curtsied and kept her eyes towards the floor, "Your highness... I-I'm sorry..." Evhana chuckled, and waved her hand.

"Worry not, child. I am the only to blame for intruding so without warning. It is a habit I made of to keep my dear son from slacking in his studies when he was young. He could never know when his mother would simply appear and scold him for playing with swords, or make belief adventures upon the carpets, insisting they were great ashen meadows, filled with daunting adventure." Bel's blush would not halt, as she nodded courteously. Evhana looked back at Elu in turn, "I see from her markings she comes from the tribal lands. One of the followers to Yurdaest?"

Elu walked over to stand beside Bel, draping an arm across her shoulders, "Aye... She came with her parents, who, I'm sad to say, did not survive the dangers of Yurdaest." Unsure of what Evhana wanted to hear, or what Bel wanted him to say, Elu struck out at something that would reveal as little as possible about his lover, all the while not making him look evasive. He wasn’t sure why but as his mother looked at the tribal woman, Elu felt the desire to step between them and warn his mother away. This newfound protectiveness, especially against one who he had long thought was the only creature that could stir emotion in him, was extremely disconcerting.

Bel glowered at him as Evhana offered a sympathetic gaze, "I am most saddened to hear. You have my condolences, child. Is the Underking treating you well?" Bel smacked her lips.
"I would say so, and I think that he'd agree."

Elu snorted, "I would hope I am, otherwise I am a poor excuse for an Elf... Is there something you wanted to speak to me about, mother?" He wanted Bel out of the room, away from his mother. Evhana had long ago told him that he needed to know who his allies were, and while he was certain he could rely on his mother he did not trust the impression he was receiving from the one who raised him as she looked at his lover, as a predator would stare down prey.

Evhana nodded towards Bel. "Could you forgive my impudent inquire, my dear, as I ask for a moment alone with my son?" Bel looked over at Elu.
He smiled at her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, "Why don't you go see what there is for breakfast? I shan't be long."

She nodded reluctantly, and stepped out the door leaving Evhana and Elu alone, his mother revealing her more natural, dulled dead pan expression, "She's very pretty. Have you taken her as a regular?" The words hurt him, much to his surprise. He had told his mother that neither men nor women stirred any longing in his mind, aside from herself, so why would she think that he would bed various women? Perhaps all she knew of men was his father, who was regarded as being ‘hot-blooded’, and Elessar who was decidedly the opposite. So if he was not one extreme, perhaps she thought him the other. No matter how he twisted and turned it, the thought remained displeasing.

"In a way." Elu said distractedly. Wandering over to the door, he locked it before glancing over at her, "Rather I have taken to her as you have with the Queen."

"A confidant and good friend? They usually don't share bedrooms, my dear." Evhana said, taking a seat by the table, "You must have misinterpreted me. This is what I wanted for you, to find someone, to see how that is really like... If that, is now the case?"

Elu rolled his eyes at her, and sat down at the table with her. He didn’t expect her to admit anything, and her refusal was no surprise. He was almost certain that Evhana loved Nienna, and likely vice-versa considering Nienna’s soft nature, but her oft-stated refusal to name who her heart belonged to stuck in his mind. It wouldn’t matter if he caught the two of them in bed together, Evhana would still deny the relationship with her every breath. "Mother, I am no fool. We need not discuss your relationship with Nienna, but please don't lie to me about what you two share."He hesitated slightly, his expression one of uncertainty, "And... yes. I think I do love her."

"Love her?" Evhana said, a light spark in her eye emerging, "I couldn't... I'm so happy for you my son! My whole being warms hearing you say those words." She even sported, what could only be perceived as, a long smile of relief and honest joy. She seemed much happier than Elu had expected her to be, as a smile crept unbidden to his face.

Elu scowled, blushing as he did, "Yes, well, it would be simpler if she were highborn, or even a Dwarf. It will make marriage a prospect that will hurt her, as she could never wed me."

You can always keep a lover, dear." She tapped her foot upon the floor, "And I wonder what discussions need to be made around me and the queen? I thought I already talked to you about this. I serve her to keep the realm safe, free of looters and underground slavers. If you're asking me about convincing her to support you in one of your schemes again, I've already stated I cannot offer any such guarantees."

He shook his head and sighed, "I ask nothing of the two of you, aside from letting me come here to forget the burdens of ruling. Bel saved me from the path of a drunkard, and now I need to save myself from the path of a torturer. Being away from Yurdaest has calmed me like little else."

"I told you it was early. Are you here to give me the satisfaction of saying I was right?" Evhana chuckled, and laid her hand upon his, "Son... It's a hard uphill road. But even mountains have a peak upon which you can stand. It will get easier the higher you climb, and the trick is to remain on the top without it all going downhill afterwards." She sighed, "I shouldn't have let you see what happened to your half brother. I regret it every day."

Elu smiled thinly at her, his free hand drifting upwards to touch at the faint scars on his face. The memory of Saul’s screams of agony was one of his fondest memories, and it always brought the faint feeling of joy and satisfaction. "It did me a world of good to see what happened to him. After all, his rape of the Queen and the abduction of me aside, he could have one day threatened my rule in Yurdaest... There may be a few people I visit while I am here in Galadriel, spawn of my father's. I would appreciate it if you did not investigate what happened to them with too much enthusiasm."

Evhana's face returned to it's more mellow state, "Silly boy. Who do you think relay their intel to your own spies? This is your task to solve now. That doesn't mean I won't help you on any road you should take."

"You will not hesitate in aiding me rid Galadriel of any Quicksilver's progeny, and their descendants?"

"If it's what you wish, my son." She drummed her fingers upon the table, "But I must implore that you do not sort it personally. Too much could be traced back to your person. That is a baggage you do not wish carrying around for people to potentially see."

"As you say, mother." He nodded approvingly, "I won't dirty my hands with them."

She nodded towards the door, "You sending the girl?" As the words left her mouth Elu felt a rush of irrational anger flush through him. Bel was his to use, and his alone. Even for his mother to casually remark on such a thing brought forth a bitter taste in his mouth. Elu couldn’t be certain, but it looked as if everything had taken on a slightly redder tint. Casting his mind back, he tried to recall if he had ever read anything that described what he was feeling, barely remembering to answer his mother.

Elu frowned slightly, "Perhaps... Though I would rather spare her my reasoning. She does not think and feel like you or me mother, I don't want to terrify her of what I am."

"Please... She's expendable in every inch of the word. Don't you think I don't know where you found her? If anything, she's indebted to you, a power you can always hold over her. Do you keep the evidence of her wet work?" Evhana said as she crossed her arms and lent back on the chair. The anger returned, and this time did not dissipate. Elu almost felt tempted to groan at the clenching bitterness and bile that seemed to be filling him, no end to the emotion in sight. He hadn’t felt like this before, never been so angry. Desperation began to knaw at him as he tried to make sense of what was happening, and controlling himself. The urge to throw himself at Evhana was all but overwhelming, and he could not tell what he would do if that came to pass.

Elu's hands clenched into fists as he leant forward in his chair, "Of course I do!" He hissed, "But she is not some toy that entertains me for a while, before I bore of it and through it aside! Bel rids me of my lust for you, so be thankful for her!"

Evhana frowned, and scowled at him, "Can't you yet see how misplaced it were? Those feelings for the girl is what you should have for a lover. Those you thought feeling for me. She won't be the only one either. Do not let those feelings cloud the practicality of her position. In a pragmatic sense, you own her. Don't ever let her forget that." Elu imagined a dam bursting its banks as the anger took hold of him. Drowning in his fury, his vision clouded and he became only vaguely aware of what was going on. Howling and slavering in his mind, Elu was tempted to give up and let the fury take over, just to end the ceaseless barrage of hate and anger. A choked sob of a woman caught his attention, and Elu tried to focus on what was going on. He thought he could make out his mother’s face, and as she opened one eye to peer up at him, he saw her terror and grief.

Elu had no idea what was going on anymore, but knew he had to do something. Remembering how he used to fight his father for control of his mind, Elu threw himself against the red fog of madness, and was surprised to find it lift away almost immediately. Elu blinked, uncertain of what had just happened, as he took in the situation around him. Evhana was pinned underneath him, on his bed, and had her eyes screwed shut as her lips quivered. All but falling off her, Elu scrambled off the bed and backed over to the cupboard unable to comprehend what had happened.

As Evhana cautiously rolled off the bed, Elu stared at her silently, as she quietly spoke, "I didn't say you were..." Rubbing at her wrists, she looked at him beseechingly, "What have I ever... Done... To deserve you treat me so?" A single inaudible tear fell down her cheek, "I try giving you advice, and you manhandle your own mother? What did I ever do?!" She near growled.

Hesitating, Elu said the first thought that came to his mind, regretting it as soon as the words left his mouth, "You birthed me. Probably the greatest mistake you ever made."

Evhana could only gawk, as her face was filled with hurt. She made for the door quietly and without retort. Elu watched her for a moment, unmoving, before he sighed and walked up to her, reaching out to take her in his arms, "I'm sorry mother, I shouldn't have said that. You've done so much for me, and all I do is hurt you in return."

Evhana waved her arm over at him, refusing his embrace, "Don't!" She said short, her face deep red, "Have it your way. Just enjoy the hospitality of the queen, and I will not bother you again." She flung the door open.

Elu moved quickly, to block her exit, his face neutral, "Won't you wait a minute?"

She snuck under his arm and made it out the hallway, walking as composed and dignified as if nothing had ever happened. Elu stood bewildered in the middle of the room, his face a mask of serenity. After a minute had passed the young Elf looked around, fear appearing briefly on his face, before it was once again hidden underneath a cool and collected exterior. Walking out of the room, and locking it behind him, Elu went to find Bel, scared of what had just happened to him. What had happened was worse than when his father took over his mind. When that had occurred at least he had been aware, to an extent, of what was happening. Now this mindless fury seemed to be able to seize his mind, and render him deaf, blind and mute to the real world. He would have to find out what had just happened to him, and soon, lest it happen again.

---

Bards Tale

Elu goes to Coal, in Galadriel, with Bel. While there he has a berserker episode, though doesn’t know what it is.

The Queen with the Fiery Hair​

Approximately ten years after the Dark One's fall.

“I know it's alot to ask...” Anwën sat quiet and obedient, more lost for words than having any real input to contribute. She had been as such ever since Azeratii was still visible from afar. “...and I am in no way implying you aren't too preoccupied to watch over her.” She didn’t want to have anything to say. She didn’t have anything to say. “It's just... I want her to get some... Some insight, other than the one I can offer.” She knew what was happening. “And I trust you.” More than she would ever admit. Her mother swallowed, stumbling at her words as she held Anwën's shoulder, near frantic and almost stuttering as she presented her case. To have Nienna as her warden in the summers, taken from her home, from her friends, forced to forge new ones. Her sister abscent, her brother gone, her father... Perhaps that wouldn’t be that much of a change. “Just a few months here and there as she grows older.” Her mother wanted her gone. That was all this was about, Anwën was sure. She couldn’t quite grasp it. What had she done wrong? Was it something she had said? Was it the peculiar dreams, the feign speech? Was her mother irate that fencing didn’t interest her, or that she was so terrible at it? She hated it, every minute of it, and on occasion when her sister wasn’t there to see, had simply contended to seat and refuse to rise. For every swing she came in late, for every parry she missed, all she could think of is how disappointed her mother must be. That must be the reason she is sending her away. Perhaps, she didn’t have time for her now that father was returning into the picture. That she was too troublesome to care for when her mother wanted to patch things thoroughly. Perhaps it was her fault they were quarrelling in the first place.

The queen nodded, smiling towards her mother.
“Of course, she can stay here whenever she likes, Eylinn. You know that. I'll be sure to take good care of her, and she'll have everything that she needs.” She laughed to herself. “I'm sure my mother will be pleased to hear that there's another little girl running around the castle for her to fuss over as well.” Queen Nienna wasn’t like the stories she had heard. The Elf queens were radiant creatures, stuck in their solemn processions while carrying whole fathoms of Light in their arms. Their long moonlight stained dresses was supposed to stretch entire halls in length, woven in fabric as delicate and thin as a spider’s silk. Yet here the Elf queen sat in a leisurely modest dress of grey, stark in contrast to her red fiery hair. Her face was no sombre display, but a bright, near blushing faire of luminous glee, quick to wit and laugh at every opportunity. Mother made a sigh of relief, as if every word and even the thought to leave her daughter out of her sight were dealing her a great pain. Her mother was not that good of an actress, so her feelings must be true. Then it was as Anwën thought. She was a burden to her household afterall.

“Thank you... There's enough to deal with at home, and the Chasm is no place for her to stay. Even more so, you know my sister spend her fair share here in Coal, so to Mirrorwater would seem only to assert the same effect. Besides, there are more younglings for her to interact with here. Younglings of her own kin and kind.” She made a concerned frown. “Does saying that make me horrible, I wonder...” The queen placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder and smiled sincerely.
“It's not horrible. I understand. It will be good for her to spend extended periods of time with other Elves, especially if she is to rule in the Chasm one day.” For that to happen, her mother would have to be dead, however. Was her mother dying, without telling her? She kept insisting Anwën must read, study, prepare for being Therain. Yet... In the moment next she was quick to comfort, that Elves lead long lives, and she was going nowhere in a hurry. It was simply how it was, her role and burden, to prepare for something she would pray every night never needed to happen. She liked the princess role. She liked being pretty and quirky, and nothing more. Yet this constant struggle within made every passage she soaked in bitter.

“That is my hope.” Her mother said, caressing Anwën's head, which was dutifully and intently aimed towards the queen. It was a wondrous sight, and she couldn’t quite deduce whether she was utterly in awe, or terrified of this strange red haired figure before her. For all Anwën knew, the colour cold be a gift from the Creator’s wrath, or coloured stained by the blood of little girls just like herself. When her mother was about to open her mouth to respond, a knock was heard on the door. In came a tall Elf of light brown hair. It was one of mother’s aide’s, and he came leisurely in as he offered a courtly bow before Nienna.
“My queen... I need to speak with her maj...” He fell silent, confused and lost, straightening his back as he nodded towards mother. “That majesty. The Ther... Queen.” Panic spread across his face. Her mother hated when they bowed, and once saw her scolding a servant for what must been an hour, soaring into a rousing speech of dignity, respect and how none were different or less a child in the Creator’s arms. The servant had quit the next day. Anwën guessed he was off to find this strange deity’s embrace, or perhaps he only bowed because he couldn’t stop stepping on his own toes, and thus unfit for service under the queen. As the poor man stumbled on his words to find the correct formality, mother rose.

“I've expected news from the Chasm to arrive today. This may be urgent... My queen, do you mind?” The queen shook her head.
“Of course not. Go ahead Eylinn, I'll keep an eye on Anwën for you.”

“Thank you. It won't be long.” Anwën felt her mum’s touch upon her shoulder. “Be nice to the queen, girl. Mother will be back soon.” Anwën nodded. She looked around the room curiously, her little hands folded neatly over her waist, as she turned around on the spot to soak literally everything in. Why was the wooden ceiling always so filled with air in Galadriel? Why did the ornated panels upon the walls rich with so much life? In contrast with the long gardens at home that her mother had raised, the trees and bushes felt thicker and fed, spacious without culling or direction, they seemed to grew exactly the way they wanted to and neither less or more. The queen smiled at the curious girl’s careful procedure as she her to sit, to which she most dutifully obliged. Perhaps if she did as she wanted, she would treat her with treats.
“So, Anwën, are you looking forward to spending some time here? And you can be honest, I won't take it personally if you'd rather be in Azeratii with your family.” Grownups never liked honesty. She had read that in a book, she was sure, conscerting a rigid and formal posture upon the chair. Her back straightened and her head held high, trying to find the first and most honest comment she could possibly offer without suffering the distain and judgement of this strangely soft woman.

“It doesn't smell like manure.” She admitted. “It doesn't smell of incense either.” The queen laughed. What’s so funny? It doesn’t... Or does it?
“Well, I'm glad that it doesn't smell too terribly.” The queen conceded, crossing her legs as she studied Anwën, exposed on her chair.

“Do you look forward to have me here?” Anwën followed.
“Of course I am. I imagine we'll have a great time. We can go and see the sights around Coamenel some time. You'll get to see our festivals, and maybe you'll be able to convince Armas to do something more than spend all of his time reading.” Anwën sat quiet for a short minute, revealing no emotion at all. Armas was a curious boy her age. Always so receded and reluctant when she and her sister had been around. It wasn’t only Nienna that Anwën was curious to explore, or suffer under. The many questions were brewing inside her chest, filing in an ever growing pile, shuffled in a mess of impressions and drifting logic. The queen was supposed to be her teacher. That much she had gathered. What advice, what answers, could she offer in affairs of state, conflict, and harsh debate? She decided to test it, and spoke in her most serious and decisive tone, to underline the gravity of her question at hand.

“Breasts, or behind?”

---

Lives may depend on it, yet the queen’s cheerful face had turned a deep crimson and her eyes had went wide, clearly shocked and unsure how to respond. This confused Anwën a great deal.
“W-What?” She stuttered.

“I overheard the stable hands at home argue over it before we left. It seemed very important to them, but I can't quite figure why.” She sighed. “I think we must resolve this matter before it goes out of hand. Breasts, or behind?” It was getting harder to differ the shift from the queen’s skin and hair, taking both an equally aggressive red as she shook her head.
“Oh, well, you know, it's not really all that important.” She responded in a nervous rouse. “Not something that we would need to be resolving anyway. Just idle chatter I'm sure.” Anwën bit her lip, not truly convinced, but this might have been a long standing issue that couldn’t be so easily solved. A beehive Anwën may have been wiser not to poke.

“You may be right. I hope no one perish, but that may just have to be nature's course, and not for us to intervene.” She pounded her fist hard into her palm with a decisive expression. “We'll settle with that both are best. It will show them we're impartial.” The queen nodded, her face still blushed as she stifled a laugh.
“A wise decision princess. No doubt you'll make for a fine Therain one day.” She watched the queen for a while saying nothing. It was an odd sight, how her skin came flushing with such ferocity. She wondered what for. Perhaps she was exhausted?

“Your face matches your hair. It is very pretty.” She said in an equally serious tone. “Have you been running, hunting for boars or deer?” She shook her head.
“I have not. I don't even know where I could go to find a boar actually. But thank you, I suppose. I'm told that my face does that quite often, even when just sitting around.”

“People say I get really red when I've been chasing the horses around, or when mum takes us hunting in the woods. My hair still is white though. What did you do to keep yours red?” She sported a curious smile, a smile to hide her anxious mind. As fresh the memory lingered the stories from the war, how her mother’s hair used to be red as well. The merry marshal of the Chasm was eager to share the stories whenever he could. Harrowing tales that refused to disappear, sending the most distasteful pictures inside Anwën’s mind, and kept her awake many a night. Red, red from the blood of Elf, Man and fiend alike, yet he always insisted there was rare a gentler creature than Eylinn. Would the same be true for Nienna?
“Well, I was born with it.” She conceded, leaving Anwën strangely disappointed, but relieved at the same time. The queen laughed. “I've always liked you Mindrilla's white hair though. It looks so lovely.” She continued, cocking her head to the side. “Have you ever actually managed to catch a horse you were chasing? It seems like it would be rather difficult.”

“No...” Anwën admitted, furrowing her brow. “You need to be smart with horses, because they're even smarter than us. You need to trick them into loving you, and bait them with vegetables. Then they will come to you. They really, really like vegetables.” Anwën nodded sagely. “They're strange that way. It's probably why they don't walk on two legs like us, or they wouldn't be able to reach the grass on the ground. Same for deer, same for cows. Green eaters all walk on four legs.” The queen kept laughing, even though Anwën couldn’t understand why. She usually laughed at jokes, not lectures. Perhaps Coamenel Elves were different that way.
“And what's so strange with liking vegetables? They're delicious.” Anwën wrinkled her nose in distaste. For a moment, she expected the queen to fall on all four herself. She imagined it wouldn’t be very practical however, in that dress. “You're right though in that horses are quite smart. My sister's is smarter than some members of this court I'd say.” This intrigued the little princess, as she slanted her head to the side.

“Have your sister dabbled into the arcane arts? Has she hexed the poor horse or the courtiers?” But again the queen had to make short work of her wild imagination, shaking her head while grinning wide.
“My sister, no, she doesn't have much of a penchant for the arcane. Myself on the other hand...” It was as if reality and fantasy came intertwined. The air was moving in the room, brushing at her skin and clothes. With a snap of the queen’s fingers, the windows flew open with a gust of wind. It swirled around them, engulfing them, carrying in its fathom a mixture of blossom and petals from the windowsill. Anwën looked at their dance in awe, her eyes wide open, unable to focus on anything else but the pink and purple colours floating around in the room, before leaving it the very same way they once came. She instinctively reached out a hand to grasp them, and it was hard to quell every surge of enthusiasm to chase them out into nature itself. But good girls didn’t jump and glee next to grownups, especially not little princesses. But smiling, that she could do, and it was the widest smile she had had since finding treasures with her sister.

“Like that! Like that!” She yelled as quietly and politely as she could, namely not very quiet or polite at all. “Just like I imagined! How did you do it? Who taught you such things?” The queen answered her smile with one of her own.
“Well, as far as how I did it... Magic! A lot of it was taught to me by my mother. She spent a lot of time studying magic when it first started coming back to the world, and then she showed what she learned to me. Of course, I've had twenty years to practice too.” The queen came into deep thought. “Haven’t your mother taught you at all? She was always far better at it than me.” Anwën raised her eyebrows, again riddled by the grownup’s tales.

“She never uses magic. She says I'm too young to try. Can you teach me how?” For her mother had so forbidden, saying its terrible force were none to admire. She always came with ill hidden sombre mood whenever she or Narien had been too quick to ask. The queen thought for a moment, looking unsure of herself, before smiling conspiratorially at the girl.
“Well... I suppose I could, but just something small, and you can't tell your mother that I showed it to you.”

“Not to her, not to a single soul...” She wondered if she’d one day be able to lift trees with her own breeze. A sly smirk came upon her face, as another clue was added to another of her many questions. “Is that why Armas read all the time? Because you're teaching him magic?” Nienna nodded.
“Some of the reason anyway. He's certainly interested in the subject and he enjoys when I teach him, but he reads about just about everything.” Anwën snorted, crossed her arms and looked to the side. She always thought the boy hated them, or didn’t like them because they could wear dresses while he could not. It was starting to make sense now, but it she still wasn’t too sure.

---

“He seems to like reading more than he like playing with us. Maybe I've been mean to him without even noticing. In any case, it's very weird.” The queen shrugged a little, smiling.
“I'm sure you've been nothing but pleasant, Anwën. He just doesn't spend much time with other children usually. He’s not very used to it, I think. He tends to spend his time with the priests or engineers, sometimes even the rangers, trying to learn everything he possibly can about what they know and what they do. I'm sure he'll warm up to you if you spend some time together.” She let out a brief sigh. “Frankly I think it would be good for him to spend more time with someone his own age.” She gave Nienna a mischievous smile.

“You want me to seduce him with my feminine wiles?” It’s what the nice ladies on the markets had insisted she should try. The queen quickly shook her head, blushing a little again. “Oh, no, nothing like that, Anwën... Where do you hear about these types of things? All from the stable hands?” She shrugged her shoulders.
“From the servants, stables, big brother…” She lied. Or at least mostly lied. “I read it in a book too, about ladies in their realm. I will have you know I'm an expert at the curtsy, and they say an Elf girl's smile can topple any man.” She placed her hands neatly upon her lap, as she took the same dead serious expression she had worn before. “Boys are stupid.” She just needed to have it said. The queen giggled.

“Indeed they are, Anwën.”
“Is that why you aren't married? Because boys are stupid?” She asked curiously, seeing her shake her head with a brewing frown.

“No, it's not that. I was... I was married briefly, during the war with the Dark One. He was killed while on a quest to capture the Maegi.” She ran a hand through her red, non-blood stained hair slowly. “I haven't had much desire to marry again.”
“Why?” Anwën asked, a bit more concerned. Boys were stupid… But they were still adorable. Sometimes.

“I just haven't met a man that I would like to marry, that's all. And it's not as if I need to marry for politics or to secure the succession.” Anwën grabbed her own chin, and studied the queen suspiciously.
“What if the boy was really, really cute, and he would tell fun jokes, and kiss you on the mouth, just at the right time. Not too late, not too soon? Would you marry him then?” Nienna paused for a moment, folding her hands on her lap as she thought.

“Well, perhaps. I do have people that I care about though, so it's not as if my life is empty without a husband. There's my family, your mother, and your aunt.” Aunt Evhana definitely had the best treats around, shared even under her mother’s stern objection. Perhaps it was those creamy chocolate buds that made the queen need no man?
“Auntie said you were really pretty, and that we could be real good friends.” She needed friends, just as much as she needed answers. Her mother had turned to fright, and her aunt had but whiffed it away as another of her many fantastic make-believes. She looked over to the fireplace, and sighed. There were still the damned dreams. The queen laughed.

“Well I'll have to thank her next time we see each other, and I'm sure that we will be good friends, we already have a secret between the two of us.” She paused as she noticed Anwën's sigh. “Is something wrong, Anwën?” Make-believes didn’t leave your head throbbing. It didn’t make you cold in summer, or boiling hot in winter. It didn’t make your body feel like a jail for something… Else. Your mind stalked by a ghost. Make-believe worlds were fun. She made them all the time. It was different, as much as she tried to tell herself it wasn’t so.
“What means the badger in Coal? Or the raven for that matter? Are there...” She hesitated, stopped mid-sentence. The queen began to look worried as she reached her hand out to Anwën's shoulder.

“Anwën? Are you alright? I'm not sure what you're asking me.” Anwën opened her mouth as she stared into the flames.
“Are there... Dragons?” She didn’t know, and she mustn’t know. She dressed her face in beaming wonder, as she looked back at Nienna. “Dragons, sky high, and as tall as the mountains?”

“Dragons? I... I don't think that there are any here in Galadriel. Perhaps some hidden away in islands to the North or deep in the forest, but none that I've ever seen.” Dragon’s to the North. Anwën always knew. The queen waved her hand, dismissing the question. “Anwën, you're ok?” She had said too much.
“Why wouldn't I be? I really like animals, and I want to slay a dragon someday.” She grinned. “If you teach me magic, I will gush it back into the abyss! And I'll take your son with me to do it, mark my word!” The queen smiled a little, as Anwën reverted more back to her old self again.

“If you really like animals why would you want to slay one, hmm? What if the dragon is good, protecting the forest or the islands from those who would harm it?” She smirked jokingly at her. This made Anwën pout.
“But in the stories the dragon is always evil, and he kidnaps the princess so a prince can save her. Then they get married, and destroy the bandits raiding the countryside. For a prince cannot marry his princess unless the dragon is slain, and the bandits build up mountains of gold in its service, or so they say.” She tilted her head. “Did your prince save you from a dragon?"

“Stories tend to put things into simpler terms than life though, don't you think?” What Anwën wouldn’t give for a little simple. “Of course, that's not to say you won't have an opportunity to slay one day.” She leaned forward, grinning. “But actually, when I was kidnaped by a dragon, I saved myself.” Anwën's jaw dropped, staring back in wonder.

---

“No way...” Anwën was now pretty convinced that this was probably the most amazing woman that ever lived. The queen laughed.
“Yes way. During the war with the Dark One, when the allied armies were camped in Hroniden, Zephfer the dragon stole me from my tent. He said that I either had to marry him or he would come to this castle and kill my family and people. I told him no.” She removed her glove, showing Anwën the scar in the shape of a dragon on her hand with a laugh. “Now do you believe me?” This changed everything. No longer could Anwën simply rely on nursery rhymes to tell her what the world should have been. If she wanted to make something believable, something wonderful out of it, she would just have to start writing the stories herself. She nodded solemnly.

“The stories have turned out to be lies, threatening to turn the reality we know into a web of untruths. It is clear it is the princess that must save the prince, and the prince and princess to become the bandits.” Anwën made a sly smirk. “I always knew it deep down that I'll have to rewrite the stories to fit my liking.” They always did lack that certain panache she always sought for, one where she herself was the heroine instead of a drag pulled along. She stood and made a most regal curtsy, befitting both the Elven women’s stature. “Thank you, my queen, who bestowed me proper sight. I shall work now to educate both the Dark and Light.” For all the good sagas were written in rhyme. The queen returned the gesture with a wide smile.
“Of course princess, you are most welcome. Just remember that your stories are yours to write, no one else’s.” The shrill anxiety she had initially felt was slowly dripping away, and paved way to an involuntary smile.

“I think I may take to liking it here.” She scratched her foot upon the carpet. “I hope your family feel the same, and that I won't intrude...” The queen shook her head, laughing.
“Of course you won't intrude, and I'm sure they'll all be excited to have you around.” Anwën looked over to the side, and bit at her lip.

“Even Armas?” She wasn’t sure why she even cared. Perhaps his reluctance was simply pushing her to earn his approval even more? Besides, spending so much time in Coal without someone to play with did sound like a rather dull affair. Horses may be smarter than people, but that didn’t mean they could talk. The queen nodded.
“Of course, Anwën. He'll just take time to get used to you. You may have noticed that he is somewhat shy.” She said with a laugh. Anwën looked up at her with a hesitant gaze, crossing her arms. It wasn’t a very confident reassurance.

“It's supposed to be the girls that are shy.” So perhaps he doesn’t like me after all. The queen but laughed again. She laughed at the strangest things.
“And is that based on more stories?” She crouched down to meet Anwën’s slight height to look her straight into the eyes, a soft expression upon her face. “Just about every time we see you and your family he tells me how nice and sweet you are. I'm sure he'll be pleased to have you here.” Anwën didn’t need a mirror to tell the heat from her cheeks was a growing blush, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Maybe we can write whole new stories together. Some are so much better when told by two, instead of one.”
“They certainly can. And I'm sure between the two of you they would be very interesting.” The idea of spending time away from home was suddenly not so dauntingly frightening or hurtful anymore. Perhaps this is what her mother wanted? For what really did wait for her back home? More grand halls of stone to which the badger could chase her through, the screech of birds and the judging eyes of her father’s court? The tense dinners and smelly marketplace? Galadriel may have that wilder insecurity over it, but at least it had air and other people with pointy ears. Her mother finally returned, greeting them with a deep sigh.

“Forgive my reproach... I hope you've at least had some time to talk?” The grace with which she walked up here was so much different, her hips freed and her back held taller. Even if the mean men of the Chasm gave her grief, it did not seem to wear her down as much. She approached them calmly, laying her warm hand upon Anwën’s head with an endearing smile. The Elf queen nodded, laughing quietly in response.
“We have indeed. And now I'm only all the more eager for her to stay here for a while. Everything went well with your news I hope?” Mother shook her head.

“I fear I cannot guarantee the sanctity and stability of the Chasm any longer. I do my best, and so are my advisors and my sister. It's not so easy to just recover from a complete immolation, even after a decade’s past.” Nienna nodded again, showing her understanding.
“I do not doubt it Eylinn. Is there anything that you need from me? I know it's not so easy, but I would anything I can to help you and your people.” Her mother chuckled sadly.

“I fear this may just have to be something they'll work out on their own. If times turn real dire, I will let you know if and how they need it.” She clasped her hands over her waist, as she offered a cherished smile towards Anwën. “Say good bye to the queen now, and I'll meet you downstairs with your sister. It's dastardly long to Azeratii, but I promise we hold off from the ferry this time.” Anwën blushed, having preferred the queen to not know of how ill she was taken with the sea. Being such a proud being of great feats in her past, it felt embarrassing to show even the vaguest hint of weakness after all was going so well. She nodded as her blushing grew furious, trying best to hide it by aiming her head away. As her mother left, she began again to ponder. There was so much more she knew, so many more puzzles to solve, so many more questions to ask and answers to seek. Couldn’t she just have a few minutes more? She walked sullen towards the door, trying her best to keep with the regal procession while leaning her head towards the open door.
“What is the best thing you know about your home?” The words but fled her lips without control, as she watched her mother’s carefree pacing down the hallway and beyond. The queen seemed to need a minute to explain. It is a blessing to need ponder what makes a person happy the most.

“The best thing? It's difficult to say. I'm fond of the wellspring and the gardens myself. Why do you ask?” Was it worth telling? She deemed it so. For all Anwën knew, she would already know. They spoke with each other on first name tense. Inconspicuous and resigned, modestly dressed or no, Nienna was the person that her mother humorously called The Queen of Queens, a fountain for so much relief and joy. Anwën clenched her lips.
“Mine is that mum never seem to cry when she's here. She doesn’t want us to see it, and she really tries to hide it. But I'm not blind. No one needs to go relieve themselves that often.” Home wasn’t very homely to Anwën anymore, sweets, bright and radiant dresses aside. Even in Mirrorwater she took refuge whenever she could, waiting every day for father to write her. She was so selfish. What of herself and Narien then? Did they not miss father too? When Anwën wanted to cry, she didn’t. She shrugged her shoulders, unknowing whether to be angry or sad, or neither. The queen frowned, seemingly unsure how to respond. It seems she didn’t know then after all.

“I... I'm glad that she is happy here as well. Perhaps you can convince her to come more often? You're always welcome here. If you ever want to talk about anything like that I'm here, Anwën.” As soft those words could be spoken, Anwën already had found her relief. The dashing tales of bravery, bandits, dragons and mountains of gold. She’d see them one day, and she’d show them! Life is for the joyous and valiant, and too short for sulks and frowns. “I'll try to speak to her about it when we get a chance.” The princess nodded.
“A grand scheme.” She took a small rose gilded silver pin from her hair, and walked over to Nienna to place it in her hand. “It's a lucky pin.” It really wasn’t. “I placed a charm on it myself.” She really hadn’t. “It will bring swift victory in your every engagement, and in your every task you set your heart into.” It actually might. It is very pointy. “You can keep it, or you can give it to someone you think need it more.” So you don’t forget me till I’ve returned. The queen smiled as she looked at the pin before bending down, taking Anwën into an embrace.

“Thank you Princess, I truly appreciate it.” Her smile grew wider, just as wide as her sister’s grew whenever she was brewing plans being up to no good. “Of course I'll have to repay you somehow. What about a sword? One fit for slaying dragons and forged by the best Elven craftsmen? Would you like that?” Anwën's eyes sparkled, and a radiant smile grew on her face. She could barely believe what she was hearing.
“Can I really?” The queen nodded.

“Of course! I'll task the palace blacksmith with making it right away.” Anwën pulled herself swiftly around the queen’s neck, and squeezed her tight. She was convinced that spending time in Coal would be no trouble at all, after all. Anwën ran towards the door, and waved unrestricted and free towards her new warden through the gap of the door.
“Bye, queen of fiery hair, and mistress of the leaves!” She laughed at Anwën’s colourful titles, the best titles ever made. Taking a last glimpse of the hallway as she rushed down towards the palace stairs, she couldn’t help but realise. A whole new land awaited her here, of adventure, shimmering sights and stories to share. She took a detour towards the balconies on the south side of the tower, and stretched herself over the railing down towards the streets below. Elves, just like her, tumbling down the narrow pathways in an industrial, calm and pulsating rhythm, sharing life in the land of fairy tales. On one side the cold sea, on the other the lush crisp leaves of trees, thousands of years old. If mother could be happy here, so could she.

And no trixy badger or any raven’s caw would change that for even a day.

The Minstrels sing of how Princess Anwën becomes Queen Nienna's ward.

Elu stalked the hallways of the palace in Coal silently, his expression one of calm dignity. Despite his confident appearance, his nerves were frayed, and he could not help but be worried about what lay ahead. His mother had avoided him studiously since he had lost control of himself, and he had set his mind to making amends. The only issue was whether she would accept his apology. The hurt on her face had been unlike any he had seen before. Eventually the Underking reached her doorway, and after receiving no answer to his knocking, pushed the unlocked door open. Striding inside, he spied his mother sitting by an open window, unusual for her as she seemed to prefer it locked shut. Dressed in her normal court attire, she seemed to be oblivious to his presence as he idly ate a piece of dried venison as she stared out at the gardens below.

Elu stood wordless at the doorway, waiting for Evhana to acknowledge him. The seconds ticked by until, with an easily supressed sense of irritation, Elu broke the silence, "How are you, mother?"

Giving him a lazy look, she only continued to rip a part of the meat with her teeth, returning to look out through the window in silence. Elu blinked, uncertainty flashing across his face, before he smiled at her, his discomfort plain to see. Walking over to stand by her side, he looked out the window with her, his hands clasped behind his back, "I came to apologize to you."

Evhana licked the grease from her lips, snorting as she rested her head upon her palm while gazing out the window. A thin blue vein was protruding to beat furiously up her neck, the only sign of the true emotions she hide behind her stone façade.

Glancing at Evhana from the corner of his eye, Elu smiled thinly, "What would you have me say mother? Do you wish me to beg you for forgiveness? To fall to my hands and knees?" The smirk slid away from his face, to be replaced by a worried frown, "I'm not going to do those things, but I would ask for your help, if you'd still give it." Her silence was unusual, far different from the way she normally behaved around him. Gone was her usual attentive nature, instead replaced by bored disinclination.

She bit off another large chunk of meat, chewing it contentedly, "Ask away." She said in a frighteningly monotone voice, one Elu had never heard before. So shrill and indifferent it was, it bore neither any colour of emotion or pitch, or even the lack thereof. As if her voice was a mere note to be read, without a single shred of life could be divulged from its plain, pragmatic letters.

Elu shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixated on the forest outside, "Have you ever had... an episode where you cannot recall what transpired, remembering naught but anger? As if a red veil clouded your vision, distorting what you thought you could see?"

She tapped her cheek as she fixated her empty stare at the horizon, speaking again in that dead cold voice, "You are your father's son, Elu. His boiling pass of blind wrath that would invoke him in great anger in battle, a trait of your family's blood it would seem. Made that ancestral weapon of yours swing soft, easily and indiscriminately in his hand." She placed a hand over her throat, meaningly, "I felt that first hand, though others I am sure felt it even nearer. Deeper."

She moved her eyes to aim at his, their analytic, curious nature probing into his very mind, "You may wonder how I could be so sure. It isn't really that hard. My family has no such periods to wretch us from our wits."

Elu raised an eyebrow at her, "I can't say I am shocked to find Quicksilver being to blame for this... So I inherit my 'unique' way of thinking from you, and a lovely perchance for bloodthirsty madness from my father. Seems almost amusing that I inherit both of these 'gifts', while my little brother seems free of both."

"Cacame is a sweet boy." She suddenly blurted out, in a sombre voice, "Too sweet. Too kind."

He chuckled humourlessly, "Aye, almost sickeningly so. So trusting and naïve, unwilling to hurt others, makes it difficult for me to believe we are brothers by blood half the time." He had yet to see Cacame since he had returned to Galadriel, and he resolved to do so as soon as possible to keep up appearances. By the sounds of things the young Elfling had not changed in the slightest, still being a naturally kind and trusting creature. It earned him friends easily, but could prove to be dangerous to his life as he got older.

Evhana's eyes went dark, the empty voice returning, "I would remember one claim he'd wish it be so."

Elu shrugged, "I don't mind that he is my brother, any more than you seem to care that Eylinn is your sister. Regardless, do you know how my father controlled his temper?"

She smiled a most unnatural, dishonest smile, as she leant over the table and tilted her head to look at him, fixed, "By surging the womb from which you came. Over, and over, and over, near every day he could find the aim." Elu, who had previously been beginning to relax, snapped to attention. Staring at Evhana, horror written across his face, he reran the words through his mind, unwilling to believe he had heard correctly. When she said nothing, instead continuing to smile that sinister look at him, the young Elf decided she had to be telling the truth.

Licking his lips, shock still etched clearly across his face, Elu began to speak uneasily, "I... I see... You let him use you like that?" Elu shook his head, his voice calming from the shrill pitch it had taken, "Actually, don't tell me, I would rather not know. Did that diversion of his work though? Did it stay his temper?"

"You are here, are you not?" She said, rising menacingly from her chair. "In every shape and form, in every position imaginable. Upon the bed, upon the tables, in the bath and in the kitchen, till it bled and became sore. When he wasn't beating me, threatening me, when he wasn't rank with the smell of fortified wines or other hedonistic viles. And even then..." She cupped her hand over her thin dress, where her womanhood would be, "...he'd take it again. Only then, or when drinking with that... Orc... He didn't see red."

Elu shrank away from her, refusing to meet her eyes, "I'm not him, I can't do that. I won't do that." Her words conjured horrible images in his head, images that burned into his mind. One of Quicksilver’s memories came blazing to the forefront of his mind, one of his intimate moments with Evhana, and Elu could only let out a scared groan as it matched what she said.

"You do as you please... Underking." She said as she walked over to the cupboard, stroking its surface to feel at the smooth lye coating, "There's so many ways to rip the legs of a household pest. Fingers, nails, pincers, hammers or swats. You may even leave it alive and unscathed."

Elu looked at her fearfully, his voice cracking and showing his age, "I don't know what to do. I just don't want that to happen again, what I did to you. I hurt you, or worse, and I don't know if the anger will come back."

"No. You don't." She looked back at him, with what could almost be seen as scorn and resentfulness, "I know well of rage, and hurt. You think your battering is unique? Therein lies the difference, if you would only see it. Those who'd lay a hand upon me in the past, is now dead." A metallic clank came from the door, as it was locked from the inside, without even a visible hand to turn the key.

"Now there is only me, the last person to hurt you." Elu stared at the cupboard, trembling slightly. The images of his mother being taken by his father replayed themselves constantly in his mind, making the Elf feel ill. Everything that his mother had been saying was shaking the boy to his core, and for once in a long time he felt genuine fear and unease. There was no show of pretending to feel an emotion he didn’t understand, Elu was unnerved and was desperate for the conversation to end.

"Aye." She said, looking upon him, beckoning for him to come stand by her. Reluctantly Elu obliged, only to let out a shriek of surprise as the windows flew open catching Elu in a gushing wind to press him against the wall. A thin layer of ice locked his wrists and ankles, as the floor brew in small sparks of embers without singing even a single thing. She casually walked over the floor, her eyes piercing into his should he ever seek her gaze.

Elu whimpered pathetically, wrestling weakly against his restraints, "What's happening?" The terror he felt was almost mind-numbing. He had never expected his mother to turn on him, despite all he had done, and now that she had he had no idea what to do aside from trying to avoid crying.

"Have you studied all for naught?!" Evhana growled, "When Mutikabir fell, it was my sisters inferno that melted the desert kingdom's mighty wall, sending the Dark to a route, or how she froze the seas into a thick, layer of ice?! Do I not share her blood, boy?!"

Elu nodded quickly, his voice quivering, "I thought that magic was meant to be gone by now, as dead as the first tree of Lurien."

"The power to set the clouds themselves ablaze, does not just disappear..." She stopped a mere foot from him, "Perhaps I can no longer melt skyrising citadels, but you've mistaken me for defenceless and weak for far too long. Why is it that you are so damned refusing to see?! That no matter how much you hurt me, you're still standing here, alive!"

"Then kill me!" Elu cried out at her, his expression one of grim desperation, "Kill me!"

She moved mere inches from him, standing in a circle of invisible flames crawling up her dress. She rose on her toes, and grabbed his head with both her hands and lowered his head. As her kiss reached his forehead, the ice melted from his wrists and ankles, the wind calming along with her temper, as the terrible force was receding from whence it came, "You fool... You're my blood." She let him go, turning around to return to the window table and seated, resuming her meal. "Perhaps you wish it wasn't so, but it changes nothing for me."

Elu's chest rose and fell quickly as he breathed raggedly upon the floor. Staying prone for a few moments, he eventually pushed himself up and staggered to a chair next to his mother, falling heavily into it. Looking at Evhana fearfully, Elu smacked his lips, his voice still shaken, "If things were simpler, I would have been born two decades earlier, to a different woman. Then I could be with you as I wish, without my desires being an affront to nature and the Light... But even though that is not the case, I don't wish you and I had nothing to connect us." Elu's gaze dropped to the table, his voice becoming meek and uncertain, "Do... Do I really have to drink so much, and lay with Bel so often to make sure that the anger doesn't come back?"

"I guess you just have to find out, Underking." She said in her pitch ridden indifference, her voice almost rasping.

"But..." Elu frowned as he stared at his feet, "You hated what my father did to you, but you were his wife... Bel is my lover, I need her. If I act like Quicksilver, I think I would scare her away."

"You wanted to me to be more honest to you, did you not?" She looked at him, her one eyelid lazier than the other, her frown neither mean, joyous or ill tempered. It was clear to Elu now, that Evhana lacked every shred and inch of emotional range. Her every smile, chuckle or laugh a game. Her every tear, plead and begging but a theatrical play. "I endured solely because I did not care. It was for the seed, and the crown you now wear. So you, before you were even born, could be safe and grow. I think it is safe to say, this tribal harbour no such pragmatic disposition."

Elu's head snapped up to stare at her, confusion clear on his face, "Didn't you feel anything then? Don't you feel anything now?"

Her face was but calm, and revealed no emotion at all, "Are you happier now, that you know?"

He looked pensively out the window, fidgeting in his seat, before shaking his head quickly, "I don't think so, though I am definitely wiser..." A frown furrowed his face as he suddenly wipped around to look at her, his voice regaining its strength, "Wait... If you feel nothing at all, why have you begged and pleaded with me about the wrongness of my feelings for you? Why deny me, if you do not care?" Even as the words came from his mouth, they tasted like ash. She seemed to care for no-one or nothing, so why she entertained him in her chambers he did not know. She claimed it was because of the blood that connected them, but if she lacked emotions, surely she lacked the natural Deep Elven maternal instincts of motherhood?

"It's dangerous. To me, to you, to your brother, to your aunt. It's abnormal, not the way of either nature or the Creator's things. What does it matter? You found someone to seek the normality of flesh." Her melodious, cheerful and loving voice that Elu had grown up with was gone. Evaporated, leaving only what shell an empty canvas could offer an observer looking for a painting that did no longer exist.

"It sounds like you couldn't give less of a damn about nature or the Creator." Elu said accusingly, "You could have prevented me from loving someone so lowborn, someone you call expendable."

"I care little for whether the grass red, blue or green. It doesn't change the nature of it being green." She opened her mouth to speak further, but stopped herself, relenting to only release a long sigh.

Elu sat silently for a minute before asking quietly, as if he was afraid of receiving an answer, "So, are you so devoid of emotion that you feel nothing for me?"

She swallowed, and looked straight into his eyes, "I can't hurt you, I can't even fathom inducing you with pain. I still talk to you, and I still give you advice. I'd do whatever I could to make you feel joy, and keep you safe from harm. I feel whatever a mother should feel for her son." She took a deep breath, and straightened her back upon the chair, "I've no scars from your father's beatings, and I do not care my wrists sore under your grip. But the wounds from your words the other day, those will never heal. If that isn't love, I do not know what is. I've plenty to know about both fear and grief. I guess this is the closest to feeling I'll ever get."

Elu held her gaze for a minute, before grunting and looking away, wiping at his eyes. Standing up abruptly he strode over to Evhana to embrace her firmly, shuddering as he did so. As he buried his face into her silvery-white hair, he managed to whisper hoarsely, "What I said that day, please know that I didn't mean it. That... anger that I have inherited from Quicksilver, that drove the words, not my feelings." Tears began to silently flow from his eyes, dampening his mother's hair, "I need you, I love you. I don't know how to show it, but don't ever believe that I feel anything but love for you."

Making no effort to move, Evhana still laid a hand upon his cheek to wipe away a tear, "Excuses make for a bad ruler. You can't retract a simple phrase. You knew what you said, but perhaps not the way you threw me around the room." She laid her cheek upon his head, and stroked his hair, "It's not the first nor last thing that will haunt me till the day I die."

Elu took a shuddering breath and pulled away from Evhana to look at her sorrowfully, "I'm sorry for adding to your trouble, mother... I can scarce believe that I actually long for a return to the days when I was free of any emotion, save for what I felt for you. I thought I was empty back then, but looking back on it, it seems so much more stable and comforting than being beset by emotion at every hour of every day."

"Perhaps you'll one day then understand why some things are kept hidden, and without your knowledge." She looked at him with her blank stare, "You think I did it to hurt you? To betray you? I did it so you could weep into my shoulder and feel content." She rose from the chair, "Was there anything else?"

Taking a calming breath, Elu composed himself. Within seconds his usual calm facade was in place, though the bloodshot eyes and restless twitching betrayed his true feelings, "No... Would you rather I only visit you when I need something, from now on?"

"In public, I'd prefer." She looked out the window again, "The gardens do so help me think and breathe."

"And keep you safe from me." Elu murmured. Shaking himself, Elu quickly retreated from the room, the door being opened and closed almost silently. As he strode down the hallways, he appeared as calm as ever on the outside, but internally he was a mess. His mother felt nothing for him, just whispers of what she thought was emotion, the same way he had once been, and the images she had conjured in his mind with her vivid retelling of her life with Quicksilver made him feel sick to his stomach. Mournful of the loss of the woman he had once loved, Elu picked up his pace, trying to leave the fear and resentment to the creature that claimed to be his mother behind.

---

Bards Tale

Evhana reveals her true, emotionless, self to Elu, who becomes terrified and resentful of the woman.

No matter which way he turned, the images and sounds flooded his head. The pounding of his heart sent echoes through his head, as he ran from room to room, desperate to escape. Each door he opened showed a scene more disturbing than the last. His mother, and late father, locked together, her words taunting him as he ran. "Over, and over, and over, near every day he could find the aim." Elu retched as he ran, emptying his stomach onto the floor. He dared not stop for breath, lest her voice reach him.

It didn’t matter, though. Regardless of how fast he ran, how hard he pushed himself, no matter which way he turned, he was confronted with sights worse than he had thought possible. "In every shape and form, in every position imaginable." Evhana’s voice called out mockingly, "Upon the bed, upon the tables, in the bath and in the kitchen, till it bled and became sore." Opening his mouth in a soundless scream, Elu tasted blood.

…

Bolting upright, a scream threatening to pass from his lips, Elu looked around wildly. The Elf relaxed as he realized that he was back where he was safe, ensconced comfortably on a plush chair on his room’s balcony, overlooking the natural beauty of the land surrounding the royal palace in Coal. The fear of his nightmare was still evident on Elu’s face as he rubbed his eyes wearily. For the past week, ever since his discussion with his mother, he had had the same nightmare night after night. Belethien was concerned about him, but he dared not tell her the source of his night terrors. Shaking himself, Elu stared blankly out at the leafy canopy stretching out before him.

A light tap on his shoulder caused Elu to jump, but a faint smile came unbidden to his face as the voice of his tribal lover cheerfully filled his ears, sweeter than any music he had heard, "Good morning, stranger. What brings you to this humble horizon?"

Elu looked up, over his shoulder to smile weakly at the tribal woman, "Bad dreams and lack of sleep. What about you?"

"I was just looking around the palace. It’s a bit more different than I figured." Bel shrugged, looking incredibly graceful in Elu’s bloodshot eyes, "But I would like your company… Are you going to come out with me today?"

The Underking winced at her words, but knew she was right. He had promised to show her the sights of not just Coal, but the entirety of Galadriel when they arrived at the Queen’s court. Instead, however, Elu had been beset by nightmares and had taken to hiding reclusively in his chambers, unwilling to speak to even the servants. He only permitted Bel and Milatha to be around him, and his new attitude worried Bel, as she may plainly clear one night.

"I… I think you would find it interesting to go along without me. All I would do is be on edge, and ruin your day."

"Don't tempt me. I might do just that." She sighed, rolling her eyes, "I won't bother you with it if that is what you want. You prefer to be left alone?"

"I..." The Elf boy flushed with shame and embarrassment, "I don't want to be left alone. Please stay with me a while longer." While he rejected the companionship of almost everyone else, there was something strangely soothing about Bel’s presence. The nightmares would seem to fade from his memory, for a time, and Elu could begin to behave normally once again.

"Then we better find something to talk about, don't we?" She said with a wink, pulling out a chair to sit beside him on the balcony, leaning against the back rest with her feet placed on the railing, "What do you prefer? Dwarven mushrooms, or Elven salad?"

"Elven salad, I'm sick and tired of Dwarven food." Elu chuckled weakly, "Though I much prefer a roast over either of those."

"Ah... Those carnivorous Deep Elves. I nigh forgot." She shrugged her shoulders, "Another endearing trait inherited from your sweet mother?"

"She is anything but sweet." He growled suddenly, before blushing again and ducking his head, "Anyway, yes. I did get my love of meat from her. I'm an Elf, not a sheep." Bel relaxed him like little else, but almost made him careless. Cursing himself silently, Elu reminded himself that despite his trust in her, nothing good would come out of telling her his problems.

She twitched the corner of her mouth, and looked down into her lap, "Fine, sorry I asked." She crossed her arms, taking a rather cautious look at him from the side.

Elu looked over to her and gently touched her arm, "I'm sorry I snapped at you... The relationship between my mother and me is a bit strained at the moment. It's why I'm so... antsy."

Bel snorted, "Sorry I brought it up, then? What happened?"

He squirmed uncomfortably, "I learnt some things that I wish I hadn't."

She looked at him, "I'm sad to hear it. She seemed so sweet..."

"She's good at pretending." Elu sighed and looked back out over the forest, "I wish I had known it earlier."

"Look... This sound rather... Private. Maybe... Maybe you shouldn't..." Bel was clenching at her blouse, biting at her lower lip.

"Maybe I should be quiet and keep what sits in my head restrained there?" Elu looked down at his lap, his face pained, "I want to tell you everything, to be able to confide in you as I once did in her... But perhaps you are right."

She knit her hands in her lap, "Aye... The less I know... You know." She was right, of course. He could not tell her, for her sake as much as his. The less she knew about such things, the better.

Elu stared at his hands for a moment before speaking suddenly, "Bel, could you come sit with me?" He motioned to his lap, feeling as uncertain as he had when he first encountered the tribal woman. Bel shuffled over to his lap, carefully, reaching an arm around his shoulders gently. The faint thrumming of her heart, and the sweet scent of her perfume, stirred Elu’s heart and loins, making him ache for her. With the incessant nightmares, and sickening sense of horror and betrayal when awake, the presence of such emotions was a welcome respite. Elu had begun to long for a return to the days when emotions were a morbid curiousity of his, not well understood, but well aped. Now it seemed that he felt them all to clearly, his lack of empathy and usual stoicism replaced with an overly sensitive array of feelings, bringing him to fury in one moment, to tears the next, then to joy and laughter. Nothing was as simple as it should be, nor was he as rational as he needed to be.

Elu trembled as he softly embraced her, kissing her quickly on the neck, "Thank you."

She stroked his hair, as she bent her head to the side, breathing softly and calm, "You needn't thank... I'm indebted to you, remember?"

Elu stiffened slightly, freezing for a moment, before speaking in a cracked voice, "If you are only here because of that debt, I relieve you from it. You can go do as you please, if you wish." Her words seized his heart, and he felt his stomach twisting itself into knots. The confession of his mother, that she did not feel emotions but rather merely thought she did, rang in his mind. If Evhana could lie about such things, be motivated by other reasons, then surely Bel could as well. Rather than the love she said she felt, perhaps it was a mere sense of responsibility that kept her by his side.

"There's no other place I'd rather be." She closed her eyes, smiling, pulling him closer still.

Elu relaxed again, breathing a sigh of relief as he kissed her again. The nauseating fear melted away as he held her close, her words wiping away his worries, "I don't know what I would do without you, Bel."

She giggled, and nuzzled his cheek, seeking out his lips with her own, "Then I have you right where I want you too."

"Aye." He managed to murmur between kisses, "I can't bear to refuse you anything."

She laughed, heartily, "Be careful, my dear. I may ask for a raise for my fees..."

Snorting, Elu nipped playfully at her ear, "Do that and I will ask for you to attend my court sessions with me."

She groaned. "Do that, and I will appear in rags, still outshining any attending Dwarven maid."

"I know you would." Elu held her tighter and began to kiss at Bel more passionately before freezing, his nightmare coming back as he sat there, awake. His mother’s cries, and father’s groans filled his ears, the nightmares he had had filling his mind. His mind went back to his mother, when her voice had been sharp and her expression empty, "You will just have to see, Underking."

She had thought him no better than his father, that much was clear to him. He had asked her how to deal with the fury of his blood, and she had told him to do what his father
had done. The notion of drinking himself into a stupor and forcing himself on Bel made him feel sick. Resisting the urge to scream, Elu tried to push away the expression of self-loathing that marred his features. Turning his face away, breathing deeply of the fresh, clear, air, Elu spoke quickly and softly, desperately trying to keep his voice from cracking, "Bel, why don't you go out and see some more of Galadriel? Thank you for keeping me company."

Slightly confused, she didn't deem to question him, "I... If you say so. You don't want to come with me?"

He shook his head quickly, giving her a faint smile, "I think I'll try and catch up on my sleep, but I will come along next time."

She climbed off his lap, and adjusted her blouse, as she walked inside to put on her leather breeches, "Can I see you tonight?" She asked, timidly.

Hesitating slightly, he nodded and tried his best to look reassuring, "Of course." She went out the door, casting a final glance and a wide careful smile before she disappeared. Elu counted to ten as she left, before throwing himself at the balcony, retching heavily over the edge. As the contents of his stomach fell down to the forest floor, Elu wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, his expression one of grim determination. He would not be his father, he would find a way to master his emotions, his rage, without sinking so low. He would show his mother that she was wrong, and then maybe, just maybe, he could push away the nightmares.

---

Bards Tale

Elu experiences vivid and disturbing nightmares, causing him to vow to conquer his fears through methods alternate to what his mother proposed.

The Sun beat down on the young Elven boy’s back as he wandered through the throng of people swarming the village. Dressed in the clothes of a merchant, Elu drew no more attention than the occasional glance of irritation as he bumped into those he passed by. Dying his distinctive white hair black made him fit right in. A part of him wished to keep up the illusion, and abandon his old life, but such a fantasy was never entertained for long. There was too much to do, and too many things he would have to give up on for that to ever be realized.

As he pushed past a particularly ugly Elf, whose fat lips and piggy eyes were graced with pus-ridden boils, Elu spied the figure he had been seeking. A young Elven maid, with hair like polished ivory, sat outside one of the local springs, rubbing at her face with a cloth. Though her face was hidden, Elu knew who she was. A faint smile came unbidden to the boy’s lips as he called out to her, "Is that you Anwën?"

The Elven girl took the damp cloth away from her brow, and pushed her damp alabaster hair off her face as she graced him with a smile, "Cousin? Here to treat the queen with your inquire? Maybe rob the apple tree with a plan most dire?" She laughed as she leant back from the clear water, taking the sun upon the face as she closed her eyes, "It's a fine hot day for bandits, bakers and princes alike."

Elu laughed deeply as he walked up to his cousin, reaching down to give her a quick embrace, a strange pang of quickly supressed longing tore its way through his chest, causing his words to catch in his throat for a moment, "Would that I was to do any of that, my trip would be that much more interesting... I'm afraid I came to Galadriel for a bit of a, well, vacation. How about you, what are you doing down here at the springs? Just enjoying the people and the Sun?"

"I do." She took a deep breath through her nose, "Can you smell it? The life... The air... Clean, clear and crisp like the forest is fair. But poetic prose aside..." She gave him a hard look, "How did you find me? I thought all traces and tracks had been swept clean."

He gave her a crooked smile, "Remember my mother is Nightshade. She taught me well in finding people who would rather not be found..." He sniggered, breaking his calm and collected facade, "Actually, I heard you liked these hot springs, so I figured you would be here rather than anywhere else." It never ceased to amaze Elu how much the common Elf could pick up as the day passed. His mother was right, as she often was when it came to matters of obtaining information, simply asking those who had no reason to expect ill of you could be one of the easiest ways to find one’s quarry.

"Nothing better to clean every spot of dirt than with nature itself, don't you agree?" She leant back in the grass, her shoulder straps hanging lose and unbuttoned to the side, "You hear the rhythm of the city's feet echo in the earth. The rising roar of the hot waters pushing through the ground. It's almost surreal... Besides, spending too many hours between four walls and a ceiling of stone would drive even the most spoilt of children demented and insane. Here, I'm just myself." She raised a hand dutifully into the air. "The fairest of maidens still of course. You cannot change nature, regardless of remorse."

He nodded at her with a smile, "The fairest of maidens indeed, though I'm afraid the Dwarves would disagree with you about the effects of living inside. I've met some who have never even seen sunlight... They are a strange people, but I suppose I am strange person." He snorted and shook his head, looking back over at her thoughtfully, "Sounds like you prefer it here to the cities of Ecclestius though."

She shrugged her shoulders, "You will call me mad, but I do in fact sometime miss the smell of smelly people as well. Different places offer different charms. Does not the halls and tunnels of your home gleam with starlight from silver, gems and gold? I could imagine it as such strange, overwhelming beauty as well."

Elu's repressed a shudder as his mind went back to his Underkingdom. He could already see the Mountain now, in his mind’s eye, a jagged rock jutting out of the frozen earth, its peak hidden in the freezing clouds far above. The land was, even after all his time there, alien to him. He felt like a stranger in the land he ruled. "Beauty, yes I suppose. The glittering of all the jewels and metallic finery the Dwarves love so much, Yurdaest has in abundance. It is a rich land, rich in history as well as wealth. I walk the same halls that over hundreds of my ancestors have trod before me. I breathe the same air that was in the lungs of those centuries past. The Mountain is filled with the distinct scent of dirt, blood, sweat and death, which no amount of incense can overcome. How many generations have been born and died in that Mountain, without once venturing outside it?... Yurdaest is as much a land of the dead and memories past as it is a place for the living." Elu blinked and shuddered slightly, seemingly coming out of his little imagination. Giving Anwën an uneasy smile, he apologized, "Sorry cousin, Yurdaest just is a strange place for me, even after all this time."

She sat up in the grass, her eyes mellow and empathic, as she looked up at him with a frown most sincere, "It'll grow you, as Azeratii did to my mother and siblings. It'll get better, you hear?" She chewed on her lower lip. "It doesn't make hard any easier, I know. But I hope at least you forgive me for my romantic soar when you probably feel none the same."

He sat down beside her, placing a grateful hand on her shoulder, "You have nothing to apologize for, after all, you are right. In time I will appreciate the beauty of my land instead of feeling, well, like a prisoner. Yurdaest does have some wonderful sights, I must admit. In the deepest levels of the mountain, where only those armed and trained dare tread, I have seen waterfalls of pure water falling into the seeming abyss, while raw diamonds glitter like stars from the walls and ceiling. I have come across the remains of a statue carved out of the living rock, depicting some ancient beast lost to time. There are treasures, if one knows where to look, if they dare to look." He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, though if it was for her's or his was not clear, "You help remind me of the good, instead of leaving me to remember only the bad."

Anwën blushed and dared a careful smile, holding up a hand over his and held it gently with her smooth, warm skin, "That is one of the nicest things anyone ever said to me. You know how to make your cousin feel well and special, Elu." She raised an eyebrow, "Or would you prefer Underking? An awfully much more formal thing."

"Call me Underking, and I will bow and call you Princess every time you speak to me." Elu said flatly, his lips twitching as he tried to hide his laughter.

Anwën chuckled, tapping her chin, deep in thought, "You say as if it was to punish me. I quite like to be known as the princess, its title already heralds of incomparable beauty and charm." She cocked her head to the side, "Cousin will do. Cousin it'll be."

"Cousin it shall be." Elu echoed. Sitting in silence for a moment, letting his gaze wander out over the people around them, Elu began to speak uncertainly, "Say Anwën... What do you know about magic?"

"Why do you ask?" She replied flippantly, her expression playful, "Do you seek to learn from the greatest magic-user of all time? If so, you have come to the right maiden, dear cousin!"

Elu turned to look at her, his expression pained, "Anwën... I need to know if you can use the magic of our ancestors, and if you can use it well... And if you can, I need you to teach me how. My previous experiences with the realm of magic has left me very uneasy around these powers I cannot understand, nor seemingly control."

Anwën snapped out of her cheerful demeanour, looking right awkward instead at her fingers, "You feel it in the heat of our blood, our pulse, but not much else. All I know of it is what I've read in books of the war, and from my mother's marshalls. Nienna can weild hers still, even Prince Armas, and apparently so can my mum. When first I came to Coal to begin my wardship, Nienna did try and teach me all in secret." Anwën snorted, "All I managed to do was set some parchment aflame and jolt myself in the foot. It's waning from the world, Elu. Everyone knows this." She rested her forehead against her knee, and pouted, "Magic is stupid anyways..."

Elu blushed, embarrassed, and nudged her playfully, "Even what you did makes you miles ahead of me. I don't even know how to call upon it... I was never taught how." He laughed awkwardly, and pushed his hand through his long alabaster hair, "Sorry if I'm all gloomy sounding about it, but magic has scared the hell out of me in the past."

She lent her head upon his shoulder and chuckled. "I just wish it was gone altogether. I am undoubtedly curious however, what manner in which magic startled you in the past. A chance to temper Barumín's flame gone awry?"

"Err, well my mother gave me a very forceful demonstration of our family's legacy, when I upset her once... Another time involved the dead, thanks to something I can't understand." He chuckled unhappily, "Magic doesn't seem to like me overly much." He had done it again, despite his personal promise. He had said far too much to the wrong person. While he felt he could trust Anwën, it did not do him any good to confide such problems in her. All it would do was to create complications.

She looked up at him with her deep blue eyes, taking his chin between her fingers and looked at him sternly, "Know to take caution, cousin. Never, never disturb or meddle with the dead. It's wholly unclean, and it would take years in a bath to rid of the stains."

"He meddled with me first, not I him!" Elu said defensively, "He came into my mind of his own accord, I didn't invite him in!"

She released him, and lent back, her eyes taking that more careful tone he could remember from that day under the apple tree a year ago, "What do you mean... Him?"

Elu looked away, and pointed out at one of the passerby's, "Never thought to see a man from Hrondien here in Galadriel! What about you Anwën?" Desperation had seized at his heart, as he tried such a pathetically obvious ploy to change the subject. Elu knew if he started talking about his father, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and then he would have made Anwën a problem to be resolved. Perhaps Bel could deal with it, but the thought of sending his beloved out to murder his closest cousin made Elu queasy. Once upon a time Elu could have done such a callous action without hesitation, but now… Now he was weakened by all the frivolities and sensibilities that came with being beset by the full range of ‘natural emotions’.

She rubbed at her throat thoughtfully, as she looked out at the people crossing the pathways of the gardens, taking on a rather serious and melancholic appearance, "All manner of folk, not ever one alike." She swallowed, and weighed her feet bashfully on the ground, "If magic is your troubles, why not ask Aunt Evhana or Nienna? What did you hope to find for answers with me? Elu... Are you alright?"

Elu licked his lips, his gaze falling to his lap, "I can't ask my mother or Nienna such things anymore, not after everything that has happened... You... You don't know what I've done, and you are the person closest to me I share blood with. I had hoped you could help me understand what I am scared of." He smiled bitterly, "As for being alright, I am far from it. Seems to run in the family."

She squinted her eyes into a deep frown, "Wh... What is that supposed to mean? There's nothing wrong with me, or mum, or Narien, and Cacame and Aunt Evhana is just fine. She's one of the nicest, happiest people I know. If... If you've been quarrelling, I know. I understand. Mum can be really harsh and annoying as well. But... Deep down, don't you think we quarrel because we really care enough to take the energy of doing so? What in the world can have happened to change that?" She crossed her arms and looked away, "There's nothing wrong with our family. No more than any other."

He sighed and smiled weakly at Anwën, "Don't worry about it all Anwën, I shouldn't be filling your head with my problems. Seems all I do is come to you when I need help, or want something, yet not once have I ever returned the favour."

She looked back at him, her eyes still squinted, until she reached over to place his head on her shoulder in an embrace, "Stop saying such things. This is what family is all about, don't you know?"

He chucked deeply, resting his head on hers, "So you keep saying. One of these days I may just believe it."

"Aunt really love you, Elu. Not a second or chance when I see her is she is late to mention her darling boy, king under the mountains, and how worried she are. I don't know what you've fought about, but just as the damp depths of Yurdaest suffocate you now and not later, will this stretch of uncertainty and fear pass. I read that somewhere, and thus it must be true." She nodded sagely, her more upbeat mood slowly returning with her mystical soaring speech. Her heart beating slow and reassuring through her body, as she caressed his hair with a soothing pass.

Elu hummed gently as Anwën held him, the tension seeping from his muscles. Maybe Anwën was right and Evhana did truly care about Elu, as she professed to. The Elven boy wasn’t sure, however, if he could ever accept her as his mother again.

---

Bards Tale

Elu seeks out Anwën in an attempt to try and learn more about the family's history of magic, but instead is distracted by other issues of his.

Seeing All​

Part I​

Approximately eleven years after the Dark One's fall.

The wind howled over their head as they braved the thin path up the mountain. The coarse and sharp cliffs reached out as if they tried to escape from their roots, and plunge over any insolent intruder, thinking himself able to defeat the hard granite stone. The blizzard glistened over their heads, sparkling in the air as it seared the adventurers like nails. It was an odd sight by all accounts, two Elves so high in the mountain range. What were they searching for? Winter, harsh and cruel, kept bombarding them with the very same question.

“You happy now? Two hundred years forfeit just to flee the turmoil below.” The younger of the two Elves said as he wiped the snow from his eyes. “Some would have settled with just hiding in a little hut somewhere.” The white haired Elf further up only laughed.
“Take it as a test, if you will. None that concerns you, yet still must be made. If Dwarves and Orcs can, why cannot us?” He leapt with grace from one cliff hang to the next while his companion remained rather shaky, undetermined, and shackled by his own fright. Hugging the treachery heights was no small feat, but for the older Elf it seemed so effortlessly. The smile remained glued to his face, carved into his otherwise soft features. He reached out a hand towards his rather cautious companion, who eagerly grabbed his hand.

“Seems more of a test of trust!” He howled. “What if you drop me by any chance?”
“Only one way to see how that story ends, isn’t it?” The old Elf laughed. And indeed, how would they even turn back? Nothing else at this height but the comfort of their company, that by a slim chance could be the difference between life and death. They must have been close to go by such lengths together. The younger Elf bit at his lip, and with a roar he let himself be swung over the daunting gap. His feet dangling and kicking in the air, he let out a panicked squeal before he was safe standing at the narrow path at the other side. He sighed of relief, but the old Elf only laughed, yet his face looking near as young as his friend. “You see? A bard must always trust his pen as much as he trusts his own imagination. And don’t you forget it.”

“I’d rather my imagination had taken its journey through a warm tavern, or a winery in the open shrubbery. What purpose brings you here but a whisper, and a rumour forgotten in the tomes for good reason? You know where you would much rather be needed. Down there is the war, not at this peak.” The eyes of the old Elf sparked, yet his smile remained unmoving. Walking slowly up the path climbing, he spat down at the world, to see the spit freezing to a perfect ice tear.
“Let it rage and rumble. Let it all burn for all I care. There’s no coincidence that we’ve been sent up for judgement.” The young Elf, presumably a bard, only sneered.

“A dull coward you are then.” But his snide comment only made the old Elf laugh.
“Did you not yearn just for a warm hearth? I’ve taken you from Gothian burgs to Nord ruins, trekked down the Rhill to find desert scrolls. We’ve drank venom of serpents in the wilder lands, and ‘cross the wastes of the West we’ve scavenged their exotic palaces for clues. What else was left but the deep bellows of the mountain’s mines, and now their far reaching crown? How could you possibly call this dull?” The path was gone, and only a row of ice spikes stood to help them traverse the mountainside. The old Elf jumped up to grab at one with glee, swinging from one to the other with preposterous agility. The bard sucked at his teeth, shaking his head hopelessly. He pulled himself up over the first spike, crawling his way over them about as agile as a seal.

“It is of your mind I speak! You can escape it as little as anyone else! You know that eventually you can run no more.” After much careful deliberation, the bard was able to swing himself around, and jump down at the path at which the old Elf already stood.
“Does this seem like running to you?” He asked, sporting the first sign of seriousness. “I’m searching, and I will damn well find.” He said as he walked further, stretching his elegant head to spy his surroundings, as if the cliff had in fact several roads.

“It’s all words of the same. Searching, finding, quests and running. There’s only one battle, one war, and it’s down there!” The bard was clearly agitated, as if his glass had been overflowing for a long time, and only now had found the courage to finally burst.
“You think me weak willed, yet here we are climbing the steep face of the mountain while the blizzard hail. Unarmed and enamoured by a mere idea.” The white haired elf cackled as he rolled his feet over the treacherous slippery stone. “Humans and their viscous view of powers be damned. We’ll have our paradise back, returned to us, and they can wail from the fruits of their superstitious pride, and be undone by their own fear.”

“Don’t you think Dreagonn said the same? And now he’s down there, leading Argua’s men! It’s our home they’re burning too.” The bard snarled.
“I know.” The old Elf said. “That’s why I cannot run. That’s why I’m still searching, and why I will find it. Follow me. It’s not far now. I will show you.” The patience of the bard had clearly ran out since long, but it is in a poet’s nature to soothe their curiosity. It looked almost as the next cliff was made by hand. A perfect arc cut half way, and its side furnished with a ladder of ice. The old Elf climbed, determinately, and the bard followed obediently. The blizzard escalated, and its hail grew sharper, and its cold even more intense. It was as if the curtain had been cast, and beneath it was only chaos. The old Elf reached the summit, and stood to glower into the impenetrable storm, shortly joined by his loyal follower. The bard followed his gaze, but couldn’t find what made him so stern.

“You found it yet? The knowledge, the power? There’s nothing here.”
“It’s here.” The old Elf said, as he smiled. “I can see it now. I know the answer to what I must do. I found the knowledge, and I’ve seen it straight into its maw.” He looked at the bard with those deep blue eyes, his white hair brushed by the winds. With a sudden flinch, he grabbed the bard hard by the collar, and held him out over the edge.

“Wh-What are you doing?!” A sad smile spread across the old Elf’s face.
“I’ll show you.” He threw the bard out from the edge, to plummet towards the foot of the mountain in a terrible scream. The summit cracked as thunder came from the clouds and shattered the peak on which they just stood. And no song would ever be sung of any of it.


Anwën darted up from her sleep, panting, sweating, confused. She had seen those eyes before, but she couldn’t quite believe it. While a welcome distraction from her always so haunting nightmares or blank sleep, those images would yet to save her from feeling unnerved. She wicked her soaked nightgown, and with heavy sleepy footsteps made her way through the grand room to her basin in order to wash off the sticky salty layer covering her skin. It didn’t help her sensitive nose, cringing at the bitter smell. Had it not been for the burning incense filling her room with its spicy essence, she would have been sure to hurl. It made her pout, rubbing the back of her neck while deep in thought as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“I see you. We meet again, sullen little girl. What troubles you now?” Those eyes of course. They’re yours. But why in the world was it so? She shrugged her shoulders, taking a deep breath as she moved over the slick stone. She needed to bath, and get dressed. She was sure the guests would arrive very soon.

---

The party arrived with less grace and much less fanfare. This was a personal visit, a chance for her mother to return the hospitable trend queen Nienna had offered in the past. Anwën was most disappointed however. With no Armas there was none new to play with once all these formalitites had been ended, while the grown-ups took to their boring chat and chewing over the most mundane things. Neither was aunt Evhana here to give them treats, or her husband prince Elessar to sneak in a chastising snarky remark. The visit would by all means be a dull affair, Anwën predicted, casually following her rather giddy mother, whom stumbled upon her words in her insecurities, and her father’s more lax proud footsteps down the hallway of their quarters. After leaving the room in which the guests would stay, mother seemed to only become more nervous and desperate to speak in, what she herself must have thought, a melodious and serene voice. Anwën on the other hand found that it sounded more like a woodpecker had stuck a flute down its throat and was now eagerly bashing at a tree to get it out. The image made Anwën grin.

“I-It wasn't easy to renovate all the smaller chambers, but it was worth it. Not only for the girls, but to get a more... Intimate air in them.” Her mother rambled nervously, trying hard to impress on her guests. “Nothing oversize, I can assure! It's mostly just remodelling of what was there before. Some new paint, some new flower sets at most. There's even proper dining-ware installed in your old quarters now, my queen.” She chuckled nervously, pulling at a strand of hair. Anwën tilted her head, wondering why mother was always so keen to appear modest. While taking effort to seem encouraging and interested, polite and straight, it was hard to hide an embarrassed flush. The queen nodded politely as she walked with them down the hall.
“The room looked wonderful Eylinn,” she spoke, with an almost glaring touch of calm and casual tone, “thank you again for inviting us. It is a shame Armas decided to stay home. I'm sure he would have liked being here.” Though Anwën doubted so. There was surely not enough books here to keep him enthralled. Creator knows playing with her and Narien wouldn’t have been enough for long. The queen’s sister, princess Linwë, nodded as well, despite looking a little bored.

“Yes, it's quite nice.” She said unenthusiastically. She didn’t seem the kind of woman just content restricted to her own quarters, most likely having been more intrigued by inspecting an adventurous stable or a dung hill with particularly high rate of growth and life. Father had told her the Coamenel Elves didn’t much prefer meats, so she assumed this was the only logical conclusion as to why a fancy decorated room would be so uninteresting.
Her mother rubbed the back of her neck, before placing her hands neatly in front of her waist. Anwën found it best to mirror her, and had learnt her mother’s repertoire at this point.
“I am not assuming you would in any way just confine within the quarters. I am sure you will be welcome to attend both dine and feast with us, or walk freely 'round the city at leisure.” She said, aiming her gaze over at Anwën’s father. “Isn't that right, husband?”

“Of course.” He said with a smile, before turning to Eylinn. “Just relax. Everything is fine.” He tried.
“Could use more velvet.” Anwën blurted out with a nod. It made mother flush a deep red while she looked at her in panic. She couldn’t quite fathom why suggesting what the quarters lacked would be so embarrassing. She assumed her modesty was to fish for suggestions, for what other purpose did it serve? The queen laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her gloved hand, at the look on Eylinn's face. Her brother, prince Varian snuck up behind her, quelling a chuckle, as he whispered into Anwën’s ear.

“You aren’t helping, but keep doing it anyway.” He said as he moved next to his father, chuckling with some great mirth at their mother’s discomfort.
“Do you like your room to have lots of velvet then Anwën?” Queen Nienna asked. “I may have to speak to the designers when I return to Coal if that is the case.” Anwën closed her eyes, thinking deeply.

“The flow of the fabric, the intense red, leads to adventurous dreams and daring poetry. Or so they say.” Though she was rather unsure if it was herself or a book to which she could accredit the quote, as often they blend together in Anwën’s head. Regardless, the queen smiled and nodded at her.
“I'd say you're already quite adept at both, so perhaps they're right.” The praise led Anwën to sport a shy grin.

“Well...” Her mother contended, standing at the fine line of strained reconciliation and painstaking offence. “It seems my children are intent to make me feel more awkward than I already feel.” While ending with dejected chuckle, her pale skin took to the same colour of the fabric coming into question. “Perhaps we should continue before they'll comment on the paint of the tapestries as well.” She nodded further down the hall. “I've prepared for some tea in the gardens, if only to calm your nerves after the long travel.” Finally Linwë seem to have perked up at the mention of the gardens.
“That sounds very nice.” Perhaps she was looking into eating them.

“Just take it easy, darling, its fine.” Her father added for some strange reason, with a smile. And there it was. Before their eyes, Anwën’s kingdom spread itself over the land. Here came the sight of vast shades of green. Grass growing out of the man tall hedges, vividly adorned by bluebells, lilacs, broken only by the deep red of wild tulips. Tall trees of ash and pine mended flawlessly in adorned rows, growing over the paths to form tunnels between the streams that watered the garden, fuelled by a fountain next to the cliff reaching out against the sea. Behind the dashing opening stretched a well trimmed maze, thick and impenetrable, laid upon a coarse gravel road towards adventures yet unfold. The flight of stairs came directly down from the queen's quarters, built with thin branches of birch, yet the mute expression while walking on the steps told they were way sturdier than the eyes could reveal. The entranceway was littered with swings from the apple trees, and placed for the occasion, a long table served with porcelain plates and pitchers of wine and tea. The influence was her mother’s homeland, that was for sure, yet for its lush and deep green, a sombre tune ran from the disciplined order in which nature had been culled here. Not the organic air of the forests in which Anwën had hunted with her sister as a child. No deer, no boar, would ever live here.

“It took some years to prepare, but at least the children could have a free, spacious air to play in when they were small.” Her mother said as she placed a hand on Anwën's head. “Or still are.” Anwën blushed, and traced her foot across the floor. It mattered not, for all the credit her mother was willing to take over the refurnishing of their home, and for seeding the greens outside their windows, this great, breathing garden was hers to rule. It was her escape, and it was her haven to dare. She hoped so much they could have a nice distraction together with her here now…

…and that those eyes could stop staring meanwhile.