Prologue:
The wind that morning blew lightly through the garden, rustling the leaves of the
trees, gently caressing the blossoms newly arisen on some of the flowers. It was still a
chill wind though, carrying traces of the winter that was still reluctant to give way to
spring. On the far horizon, the sun had barely begun to peek over the treetops, its rays
spilling light across the forested valley. In the branches of one of the stout Ironwood
trees, a lone songbird trilled its cheerful song of greeting to the morning. Outside the
garden, the world still slept.. except for a solitary woman walking slowly down one of the
paths through the garden.
She was covered in a fur lined full cloak, drawn tight about her to ward of the
chill of the morning. The hood, however, had been pulled back, allowing her golden blonde
hair to cascade down around her shoulders. Poking through the sides of her hair were the
pointed tips of her ears that unmistakeably marked her to all as a High Elf. Her skin was
the alabaster color of fine porcelain, save for the pale blush of pink in her cheeks made
all the more prominent by the cool morning temperature. Her eyes were an unforgettably
vivid azure shade of blue, their almond shape likewise a gift of her elven ancestry. A
small smile played across her lips, bringing brightness to her features.. yet at the same
time, a tiny tear rolled down her cheek.
She raised her hand towards the songbird, removing the white glove she wore to
reveal a delicate hand with perfectly manicured nails. The bird, noticing her, halted its
song for only a moment as it alighted down to perch on her forefinger, then resumed where
it had left off. The woman smiled at it for a moment as it continued its beautiful song
to the morning, to her, then raised her hand to the sky to let it fly off, back to the
trees from whence it had come. Drawing her hood back up around her head, she turned
silently to return to the Palace proper.
*****
Laurellalanthalasa Aye'lya Elorianthas had always led a proper life. Firstborn
child to heir of the elven noble house Elorian of the Kingdom of Darsylon, Lord
Aldorienalathasaran Ar'dan Elorianthas, and his wife, granddaughter of the old King
Toranarialanathas Ar'dan Darsylonathas (and cousin to the current King), the Lady
Eleraniellalanthalasa Aye'la Elorianthas Nee Darsylonathas, she had lived the vast majority
of her life at the center of the Kingdom, the magical place known as Darsylon Palace. As
she walked along the gleaming mithril corridors of the palace, Laurella thought back to the
happier times of her earlier life, of her childhood, and sighed slightly. At one time the
sights of the palace, the garden, the image of one of the palace guards wielding her
brightly polished swords, the corridors lit by arcane light, were comforting, gave a sense
of security to a young child who knew nothing else outside the universe they encompassed.
What idyllic, innocent times those were, she thought to herself. The guards still
snapped to attention as she passed, after all, she was now officially a Lady of the Nobility
herself, having reached her naming-day two years past now, and deserving of all the respect
such a one should be accorded, even without her relation to the royal line. Still, even
though nothing else had changed except that one thing, it was enough to make this place
seem as though it were a prison to her.
As she passed by the guest hall, the sound of boisterous laughter caught her
attention. Opening the door a slight crack, she peeked in, only to be startled by the
servant on his way out.
"Laurella, lass, come on in and give an old dwarf a bit of company!" boomed the
voice from within the room. Blushing slightly at the forwardness of the ever-bold dwarven
ambassador to Darsylon, she stepped into the room. It was a fairly large room, appointed
with several high-backed velvet lined plush chairs arranged around a small tea table, facing
a large fireplace with lion-headed ornaments. In the fireplace, a roaring fire raged, even
though the magical spells that were woven into the castle itself made such things
unnecessary. Laurella had to admit it did add quite a intriguing atmosphere to the room.
In the far chair sat a short, stocky man, with a large beer stein in hand. Gillem
Silverhammer, ambassador of the Dwarven King since before even Laurella could remember. She
could, however, remember him as being younger than he was now, Elves still had at least that
much of an age advantage over the dwarves. Still, he was an elder to her, and had always
treated her kindly, much in the manner of an aged grandfather.
"What's on your mind, lass?" he inquired. She smiled slightly, he always seemed to
have a way of seeing through her moods, right to the heart of the problem, whether it had
been being unable to compete in the archery contests, or an argument with someone of her
family. "Something troubles you, I can see. You can tell old Gillem, of course you can."
He smiled, gruffly, and took a swig of dwarven ale from his stein.
She smiled slightly, sat down gracefully in one of the chairs opposite him, and said
"Tell me again of the outside world, Lord Gillem, if you would." This was one of her
favorite topics of conversation with him, and with her brother, though Gillem was always far
more willing to reveal things her brother would never even touch upon.
"Lass, just call me Gillem, the formality is a bit much for such a casual place as
this," he began, knowing even so that it would do little good. Even getting her to call him
'Lord Gillem' instead of 'Lord Silverhammer' had been as difficult as pulling teeth from an
angry wild boar. Still, it was an inside joke between the two of them, and she smiled
demurely as he said it. "Ah, the outside world again.. I somehow think I've told you
everything I ever could, for you've asked that question of me so many times now." He tugged
his beard slightly a moment, in thought. "I've told you before of the human city of Galadon,
yes?" She nodded in assent. "Well, you know that they call the King or Lord of Galadon a
Mayor, right?" Again, she nodded at him. "Well, the curious thing about it, is that every
so often, when they need to choose a new 'Mayor', they don't do so by lineage or anything so
sensible, or even merit of trial by duel or whathaveyou. Rather, they let all the men and
women folk name their choice, and whosoever is named the most, why, that person gets to be
the new Mayor."
At this, she raised an eyebrow. "Quite a curious means of appointing a leader. I
do suppose that ideally they would pick the best candidate possible.. but given the ability
of humans to both foolishness and deception, would that be truly wise?"
He chuckled, and took another swig of ale. "You preach to the choir, lass.. I cannot
imagine any dwarf in his right mind doing such a thing, or even an elf, for that matter..
it's just another way the humanfolk take leave of their common sense." She nodded
thoughtfully. "Be careful, should you ever venture into the world of humanity," he cautioned,
"for it is a world of contradictions, and dangers abounding. There are many who would as
soon kill you as look at you," he warned.
She smiled, and rose from her chair. "You always have been a dear, Lord Gillem.
Always the grandfather I never had." She leaned over and kissed him slightly on the top of
his head, then turned to leave. He was glad she did not turn to notice as she left, lest
she see the crimson red his face had turned beneath the white whiskers of his beard.
"Oh, girl, if only you could truly know the world.. I surely hope you can stay as
you are, for it would be a true crime to see such innocence lost."
*****
Later in the afternoon, a messenger arrived to interrupt Laurella's studies, bringing
word that her mother wished to see her in the family's audience chambers. Closing the
spellbook she had been studying, Laurella stepped out into the hallway.
*****
"You wished to see me, mother?" she said as she stepped into the otherwise silent
room. On the far side of the room, an elven women turned at the sound of her voice.
Eleraniellalanthalasa Aye'la Elorianthas Nee Darsylonathas was nearly the mirror image of her
daughter. Only the darker auburn shade of her mother's hair and the wise look that set her
features (thanks in part to the few centuries she had over her daughter) set them apart.
"Yes, Laurella. I was wondering if you had yet thought about the marriage your
father had arranged for you." Her mother always had a tendency to cut right to the heart of
matters, a bluntness Laurella had always seemed to lack, or at least shied away from.
"I have," she answered, a trifle hesitantly, drawing an immediate look from her
mother. Of all the gazes she dreaded, it was the one her mother gave her now. Laurella
felt those blue eyes looking through her, into her very soul almost.
"Laurellalanthalasa*, this is not a matter which you can delay. We are not humans,
true, but it has been nearly three months now. A period of time in which the answer is
considered is only ladylike and proper, after all, one cannot seem too eager to accept a
suitor.. but you are pressing your time nevertheless. You must give an answer, and soon,"
she stated.
Laurella raised her chin slightly, and said "What if I refuse? What then?"
Her mother narrowed her eyes, locking on to her daughter's gaze. "Your father has
gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange this match. Do you know how many favors he has
had to call in to even get the chance to arrange this? House Elorian is hardly of low
standing, but neither is the House of Sith. Why, were it not for your royal blood and the
fact that one of your tutors is of that house, this would likely not even be possible!"
And better if it were, Laurella thought to herself, unwilling to offer such an
affront to her mother. "There is no love in his eyes, mother.. he sees me as nothing more
than a prize, a step to securing his social status. I cannot bear it, the way he looks at
me!" she stated, her voice quavering.
Her mother's eyes widened as if in shock, and she rose from her chair. "Oh,
Laurella," she sighed, and stepped across the room to embrace her daughter tightly. "Poor
child," she whispered softly in Laurella's ear. "The ways of the nobility are hard, indeed,
on the young heart. In many ways I was once like you.. but I grew to love your father, to
treasure the kindness he gave. In time, I am sure it will prove the same for you."
Laurella nodded slightly against her mother's shoulder, but in her heart, uncertainty still
reigned supreme.
*****
It was just before sunset that he found her, sitting by her windowsill, looking out
upon the ocean of treetops set against the distant mountains that was the valley of Darsylon.
If she noticed his entry into her chambers, she gave no sign of it. She had ignored both the
knock on the door, and had ignored the creaking sound of the door as it swung inward. Only
when he spoke did she turn and acknowledge his presence.
"Sister?"
Lorandanaralathas Ar'dan Elorianthas had always been an adventuresome sort, given to
travels to faraway lands that his parents would have never permitted to his sister. Thus,
even though she was superior to him by several decades, he still held somewhat of a greater
worldliness than she did, something he always felt that she envied of him, even if only a
small bit.
She turned to look at him, holding his gaze with an air that would always make him
feel humbled in her presence, even though they were about as near to twins as elven siblings
could be. There had always been a bond between them, of sorts, almost as if they really were
twins in fact as well as in their childhood play.
"What brings you, brother?" she asked, almost emotionlessly. That simple lack in her
words troubled him almost immediately. Something was definitely out of place. "Did mother
send you?"
"She mentioned that I might look in on you, yes," he said, "but it was not so much
her directive as my own worry that brought me here. Laurella, we have always been close,
almost as twins, yet I feel that there is something you hold secret, something that is
hurting you by the keeping of it." He knelt beside her as he spoke, looking up at her face,
illuminated as it was by the rays of the setting sun.
"I cannot marry him, Lorandanar, you know that as well as I do," she spoke plainly,
her eyes still locked onto the horizon. "All the things are in place save one.. he does not
love me. Even though I do not love him, I could forgive it all, all save for that." She
sighed, and tore her gaze from the pink hues of the sunset to look at him.
He was taken aback by the suddenness of it all, having never truly suspected how his
sister felt in this regard. Laurella had never been so forward with him, not since their
early childhood. "Surely it cannot be so," he stammered. "Father and Mother have gone to
such trouble over this matter.. surely it cannot be as bad as you think."
She smiled at him, and said, "It is easy for you, brother.. you have been playmates
with Princess Elaeriella since early childhood. I remember watching both of you in the
gardens, when I was a scant two decades above you both. You have the luck of being both her
friend and in the proper position politically, to wed the one you will be truly happy with."
At her words, his cheeks flushed to a bright scarlet as she spoke that which previously he
had believed only he and Elaeriella had known. "You cannot keep secrets from me, Lorandanar,
in the same way I cannot keep them from you."
She turned back to look at the horizon, and continued. "You must know, then, that
there is only one course left open to me. I cannot openly refuse this marriage, for to do
so would bring great shame upon Father and Mother. Nor can I accept it, for to do so would
be to become a traitor to my own self, something I cannot bring myself to do."
Puzzled, he looked up at her. "What then, will you do, Sister?"
Holding her gaze steady on the far-off horizon, she said, "I must leave, for the
outside world." At this, he gasped, and found himself too shocked to speak. "I will
journey into the human realm, and pursue my studies. There will be some embarrassment to
Mother and Father, but not nearly as much as an outright refusal would surmount to."
"Wi.. will you return?" he managed to stammer. "Return home, to Darsylon?"
She turned at last, and smiled wanly at him. "No, brother dearest, at least not in
the way you speak of. I may visit for a time, but when I leave, I fear I will leave for
good. It saddens me, but I think that unless I do find a suitor who truly matches all that
I seek, I will continue to wander."
He frowned slightly, and finally composed himself enough to speak again. "Sister,
the human world is a hard place, entirely unlike Darsylon, or even the forest valleys nearby.
Even Gillem's tales cannot begin to describe the dangers that abound therein. I beg you, do
not go!"
"Lorandanaralanthalas.." she began (and he knew by the manner of her speech that she
was deadly serious)*, "Brother... there is no other way." She sighed slightly. "Would that
things could be other than they are, but we most conform to reality, even as we would wish it
to be otherwise. I will always love you, and Mother and Father as well.. but a greater
destiny calls to me. Destiny is what it will be, and we cannot change it, only guide its
course. Wish me luck as best you can, for I think I may need it in the years to come."
He found he could only nod, the words stolen from him by the eloquence of her speech.
*****
As she rode from Darsylon the next morning, while the Palace still slumbered, he
could not stop the tears from falling as he bade goodbye to his only sister, giving her over
(however unwillingly) to the cruel world that lay beyond the tranquil valley they had known
for most of their lives. Gone from his thoughts were any fear of the recriminations his
parents would serve to him, for such meant little in the face of what he had seen and heard.
He knelt, and offered up a prayer to the Gods, both Elven and not, that they would keep her
safe, for she had done wrong to noone, and deserved that only good things cross her path.
*****
Author's notes:
The "nee" in the elven noble names means "born of" and indicates that an elf was born to
another house than he or she currently resides in. This tradition occurs in both male and
female, unlike in humanity. In the case of the male, it occurs when a male marries into a
house of greater status than the one in which he was born to. He then takes the family name
of his wife. Thus the names of the houses to which only daughters are born are preserved.
Thus, were Lorandanar of this story to marry the Princess Elaeriella, he would henceforth be
known as Lorandanaralanthalas Ar'dan Darsylonathas nee Elorianthas, instead of
Lorandanaralanthalas Ar'dan Elorianthas. In the case of the female, she only takes the name
of her husband (as Laurella's mother did) when she likewise marries into a house of lesser
status.
Furthermore, in terms of the Royal Family, is it the child of the monarch who rules,
regardless of gender. The spouse of the monarch is then formally known as (King/Queen) X,
(Prince/Princess) Consort to the (Queen/King) of Darsylon, etc.. It is proper to address
such a one as 'Your Majesty' in person, and to refer to them as the King or Queen, or as
Prince Consort or Princess Consort when doing so in the third person, although the latter
two are normally reserved for relations or otherwise "formal" members of the royal court of
Darsylon.
* When Elves speak among themselves, it is common to still use the (shortened) "informal"
names which they use among humans (ie, Laurealla, Lorandanar, etc). When they use the full
version of the name, it implies a formality or an anger at the person spoken to (normally
used either by parent, relative, or spouse, such as if your mother were to call you by your
full name [first, middle, last]), normally indicating the seriousness of the situation, as
if to cut through all levels of formal politeness.
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