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Elmirie's Tale
Posted: 29 Mar 2005 06:27 AM |
Elmirie stood on the threshold of her home, weakly looking around at the devastation of the recent battle, the shadowy forms of corpses still lay where they had fallen among the scorched patches of grass visible even in the darkness, and a faint tang of ozone still hung in the air from the magical energies which had been expended. Quite where what was left of Arod lay, she could not tell in the darkness, but that he had passed was not in doubt. She had seen him fall, and she could not deny the feeling that part of her very self had been ripped away.
She stood a short distance away from the lodge, fumbling with the fastening of her cloak, giving a small exclamation of despair as the leaf patterned pin fell from her hands and disappeared into the grass at her feet. For a few minutes she searched in vain, at last giving up before standing once more to look around her.
With no moon as a guide, she had no way of knowing the time, nor how long she had lain unconscious, but her thoughts now, quite aside from the pain she felt, were centred on her children, more immediately Elvalia who with any luck would still be nearby. She had no recollection of anything befalling her apart from Arod’s frenzied shout. Didn’t remember seeing her after he had fallen. Wrapping her cloak around herself, Elmirie searched the area near where she knew her daughter had hidden, but found nothing – apart from the body of a fallen orc shaman, which she almost fell over in the darkness.
Deciding it was futile to continue searching, still weakened and partially in shock from the recent events, Elmirie wrapped herself tightly in her cloak and sat against the hollow log to wait for dawn. Closing her eyes, she entered her reverie, gathering her strength as she rested.
The dawn brought with it the birdsong from the surrounding forest, but as she opened her eyes Elmirie, who would normally have gloried in such sights and sounds, scarcely noticed as she surveyed the scene that lay around her in the clear light. There was no sign of Arod’s remains, doubtless despoiled by those who attacked. The numerous other forms that lay around were even now beginning to gather flies and swell in the early morning sun. Steeling herself against the sights and smells that assailed her senses, Elmirie tore her mind back once more to the task in hand and stood to search the area of the log once more.
Though no ranger, she had gathered enough wilderness lore in her lifetime to at least differentiate between the footprints that lay around. She could clearly see her daughter’s footprints in the grass where she had run from the house to the log, then more sign where she appeared to have crawled from it towards where the body of the shaman lay. Tears began to run down her cheeks as she realised that doubtless this was the reason for Arod’s cry, she had tried to help and he had seen her.
Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Elmirie then noted further small footprints, left as Elvalia had walked into the forest nearby. Closing her eyes and sighing with relief, Elmirie smiled slightly for the first time in who knew how many hours. She was safe then, or had been then.
“But then, you know that do you not,” she thought to herself, “you spoke to her yourself not two years back, at the pool.”
Frowning slightly, she reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out the token her daughter had made with her own hair, and the petal and leaf of the flower. “Aala,” she said softly, “no dream, I touched her, spoke with her. How, I do not know, but it happened. She lives still, or at least did then.”
Creasing her brow in thought, Elmirie considered that last meeting. Exactly how old Elvalia had been then was difficult to tell, full grown for certain, mature enough at least to be carrying a child. She wished now they had spoken more, that as well as answering her daughter’s questions she had asked more of her own. Wished she had known more of her daughter’s life – how she had remained safe after… after this.
Gazing at the footprints once more, Elmirie then came to a decision. Elvalia would be safe, however it was to happen her daughter would survive. Was there any need then, to look for her? Was it by leaving her to whatever fate she encountered that she would grow into the woman she had met? Or was it that she had been found by Elmirie? If the latter was the case, she had made no mention of it. Though…. though there had been a sadness there, something she had been unwilling to speak of. Doubtless it involved what had happened here… “Mother of all…” muttered Elmirie, “she thought me dead. No wonder then she could understand even less than I how it was we could meet and speak.”
“So then… however it was she manages to survive I have no part in it.”
“Bronwyn is safe, safer perhaps should I not return now to Ferein. Ten years after all is but a short time and memories are long.”
Sitting once more against the log, Elmirie mused on how best to proceed from here. She had no part in her daughters’ lives, at least not for some time. How else should she live?
“They do not need me now,” she whispered to herself, “but in the future? Aala, it may be that I am needed in the future.”
Climbing slowly to her feet she surveyed the clearing one last time.
“I shall travel,” she said at last, “learn… walk among the gifts of the Mother. I shall wait until they are grown, and then…. Then I shall seek them out… seek them out and pass on what I have learned.”
Gathering her cloak around her once more, she cast around briefly at the edge of the forest before selecting a stout staff from some of the fallen timber. Then, with a last lingering glance at the lodge, she turned and walked into the forest, disappearing into the trees. |
Elvalia - Chosen of Aros
Elrith Mellin
Perin - 'Cleric (an' drewid) o' Elbreff' Weddin's an' pies a speciarality
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Companions
Posted: 09 Aug 2005 03:11 PM |
((OOC – There are obvious references and links to Elvalia’s own story which, for those who are unaware, can be found here))
As the softly spoken voices drew nearer she moved deeper into the crevice in the cliff face, pulling her hood over her face and wrapping her cloak around herself in the hopes that the dark coloured material would help conceal her.
She had been travelling now for three days in the deep forest and progress had been slow – hiding from hostile parties of Tarik followers had been the main cause, but there had been many pauses as she had rested or attempted to gather her wits as grief once more assailed her thoughts.
The voices drew closer still and she froze, scarcely daring to breath lest they somehow hear and discover her. Her wide eyes focused on the opening but nothing could be seen… and in time the voices faded as the elves continued along whichever path their journey took them.
As the voices disappeared entirely she exhaled loudly and slumped to the ground in relief, too scared to leave her hiding place, at least for the moment. Then, unbidden, the memories flooded back – as they had whenever her mind had nothing else to occupy it. As so often over the last three days, she lost all sense of her surroundings as the grief washed over her, the sense of loss causing pain that was almost physical as the tears streamed down her face and her face contorted from the uncontrolled sobbing.
In the space of one short early morning she had lost all… a home, her husband and her daughter. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth as the anguish took hold.
All life is pain and happiness… one of the cornerstones of her faith. Without both there was no balance in the same way that there was no good without evil, no law without chaos. Whether knowing or not, all served the cycle.
But so much loss. First forced to abandon her homeland, give up one of her children in the hope of protecting both, as well as herself and her husband. And now all was gone. Gone with the one constant that had been there through all… Arod. The elf that had stood by her, saved her life, loved and married her, acknowledged another’s children as his own. Now he was no more and the sense of loss was unbearable. Only know was the closeness of the bond they shared apparent, his death had left a void, ripped away what had become a part of herself and could never be replaced.
Time passed unnoticed. It was rare this deep in the forest to catch a glimpse of sky through the closely woven canopy let alone the moon or sun. Gradually Elmirie cried herself dry, became aware of her surroundings once more and sat huddled in the crevice giving thought to her future. Whatever else her life held in store it would be face alone. There would be none to replace Arod, it was the way of her people. Whatever love she held within her would be directed elsewhere.
As she calmed herself and gathered her wits her thoughts turned once more to her daughters, to Bronwyn and Elvalia. Arod she would not see again while she lived… but her daughters. Elvalia would clearly live to adulthood, and had said the same of Bronwyn. How old Elvalia had been was uncertain, there had been no mention of her age, and as was common among her people her features held an ageless quality that made it difficult for anybody – even another elf – to judge how long the other had lived.
In much the same way that she had done just a few days ago among the ruins of the battle, Elmirie ran through possibilities and options in her mind. At first, it had seemed clear that they did not need her, they had obviously grown to adulthood and from outward appearances – in Elvalia’s case at least – been untouched by whatever life had brought there way. It was this in part that had led to her decision to stay away, to leave them to their fates convincing herself that they did not need her.
But she needed them, they were now all she had.
The almost otherworldly conversations she had had with her adult daughter replayed themselves through her mind. She had not the slightest idea how they could have taken place, but even so, something about them nagged at her. Much had been said, but much unsaid, Elvalia’s almost animal-like wariness, the reticence. The way Elvalia had looked at her, studied her features almost as if trying to recall them…
Elmirie gasped as realisation hit her. Not recall them… store them.
“She thought me dead!”
Feverishly, she ran her mind over the events of a few days ago. Trying the picture them as Elvalia would have seen them. Arod’s death, the struggle outside the lodge then her mother carried inside the lodge. The screams… then nothing but silence. The realisation hit her like a thunderbolt. No wonder Elvalia had seemed at times almost speechless, she was speaking with somebody she believed to be long dead; a ghost from her past.
Elmirie held her head in her hands, barely holding herself back from sinking once more into despair. It all flooded back; Elvalia’s hesitancy to speak, the times she seemed on the point of saying something but had held back, the embraces they had shared. “She thought me dead!”
It explained too why she had left the scene of the battle… there had been nothing left for her there.
She sat stunned for a few moments as a new question entered her mind. How had a young girl survived? How had a girl of ten years managed to live in a place such as this? Elmirie looked out from the crevice at the darkness of the forest, casting her mind back over the number of times she had been forced to hide. How had she survived?
It was then that she changed her mind. Rather than leaving her daughters alone completely she would at least satisfy herself that they were well… that they would cope. She took the staff she had made for herself back at the lodge and sat for an hour or two, knife in hand, fashioning it into a crude spear. No reason why she should be completely defenceless. Then, after checking that there was nobody nearby, began to retrace her steps back towards what had until recently been her home.
The journey was quicker, filled now with a sense of purpose where before had been helplessness for the most part. Encounters had been fewer and the first two easily avoided. The last now lay at the bottom of a ravine with her spear in his throat, while she carried his, much better made, in its stead.
That had happened but two short hours ago, she had cleaned the blood from his spear with no little relief at it not being her own that stained it and now, as the forests began to thin somewhat to allow the moon to shine through occasionally, she paused. Gathering her bearings, taking note of familiar landmarks and realising that she was closer to the lodge than she had thought.
The clouds masked the moon and shrouded the forest in blackness as she began to move once more. More confidently now that she was a little more certain of her direction.
She froze suddenly, peering into the darkness ahead from which a low rumbling could be heard. Even with her keen senses it was difficult to make out anything on the path other than a pair of green eyes that blazed at her from the darkness. A momentary break in the cloud allowed the moonlight to illuminate a large jet-black outline that she quickly recognised as a panther, hunched low an ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
Slowly and deliberately she bent and laid the spear on the path before her, placing the knife from her leggings next to it, then stood upright once more holding her hands out before her.
“I mean you no harm,” she said gently in elven, “see… I am unarmed.”
She stood, relaxed, motionless, as the panther stared at her, the rumbling still sounding in its throat. At length, other sounds came, purrs, snarls, mewling, resolving themselves into words she understood.
“Why are you here she-elf? You seek to take our hides like others of your kind?
Elmirie carefully adjusted her vocal chords and was on the point of replying as she noticed another, smaller, form behind the panther, and another pair of green eyes.
“I am no hunter,” she replied in the same tongue as the panther, “I have no more wish to harm you or your cub than I would wish harm to come to my own.”
The rumbling faded somewhat but the large cat remained poised, its eyes flickering briefly to the spear on the path, “Yet you carry the long-claw as do others… what then do you do here?”
“They are not my kin, were I able to sheath my claws as you I would do so. Like you I am hunted,” replied Elmirie softly, “I search for a cub of my own, she is lost.”
The cloud above cleared at last and as the moonlight shone clearly onto the scene the panther relaxed a little and stood panting and silently watching the elf. The cub moved closer and as it did Elmirie noticed that the mother’s fur was matted along one flank and glistening slightly in the moonlight as her chest rose and fell in time with her breathing.
“You are wounded,” said Elmirie, “how did this happen?”
“Two such as you,” growled the panther, “males… they sought to take our skins but one will hunt no more.” A keening, sorrowful whimper arose from the cub as she continued, “nor will my mate.”
Slowly, Elmirie moved closer, reassuring the panthers all the while, and examined the cruel wound, noting the acid burns at its edges, “I can heal you, should you wish,” she said gently, “ease your pain.”
The panther made no response but stood motionless, her skin quivering beneath the druid’s hands as Elmirie murmured a brief entreaty to the Mother, using her healing arts to close the wound and repairing the damage the spear had done.
As she stepped back the panther relaxed fully and her breathing eased. “There is much about you, she-elf,” she rumbled, “much unanswered. You are not like the other long-claws yet I would know how it is that your claw carries the scent of my mate’s blood.”
Elmirie glanced down at the spear, remembering the blood that had stained it. “Not all among my kind seek to harm all we find,” she said quietly, “the bearer of that long-claw will hunt no more.”
The panther stared into her eyes for a few moments as if judging the truth of her words, “Then Kria thanks you twice over, she-elf,” she purred, “I am in your debt.”
“There is no debt,” replied Elmirie with a smile, “it is not the way of Elmirie to seek payment.”
“Nevertheless, thanks are due and I would aid you also, if I can,” rumbled Kria. “You seek your cub, it may be that we can assist. Sharp are they eyes and ears of the long-claws but a panther’s nose is also of use.”
Elmirie regarded the panther in surprise then broke into a smile and nodded as she bent to pick up her weapons. “Very well,” she laughed softly, “come then.”
As she passed and continued down the almost imperceptible trail the Kria growled softly to the cub who, like his mother, turned and silently followed the elf. |
Elvalia - Chosen of Aros
Elrith Mellin
Perin - 'Cleric (an' drewid) o' Elbreff' Weddin's an' pies a speciarality
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