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"Círdan Nénharma, I'm warning you, leave me alone!" The raven-haired, slightly stocky boy was surrounded by a group of the fair-haired, slender elven youths, one prominently the leader. All-too common a sight in this little village. The ringleader, Círdan, smirked. "Ooh, now I'm scared. You're warning me, are you, half-ma-" The sickening snap of bone propelling him into the boy behind him, the fair-haired boy reeled backwards, blood pouring from his nose. One of the two elven girls present screamed and the group scattered and ran. Only the raven-haired boy remained, rubbing his knuckles. He looked down at his former tormenter with an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he also turned to leave. *** A mother's voice echoed through the forest near the village, calling for her son. After several attempts, she gave up and the forest went quiet once more. The son sat in a tree fork in the forest, turning his right hand over in his lap and looking at it thoughtfully. His actions today had crossed a line, one that he could probably not undo. Grimacing, he looked up at the surrounding forest and brushed his fine black hair out of his eyes. It would be all over the village now, he was sure of it, and he highly doubted that he'd come out of it favorably. He almost never did. The villagers seemed quite prepared to believe the worst of him, trusting the words of their children over his every time. Even when he was the one in tears or hurt. He pounded his fist down onto his thigh. It just wasn't fair! "The only things in this life that are right or fair are those that we make ourselves." The voice of the village priest, Elerossë Séregon, rose in his memory. A worshipper of the Leaflord, he was one of the few villagers who had never criticized his actions, or at least not openly. Instead, the elderly priest taught him old sayings, ancient truths and teaching stories, trusting him to find the correct path of his own accord. "None will fight battles to right wrongs done to you or make fair that which has been unfair, even such time-established institutions as law, custom or justice. One must take the world as he finds it-be it good or ill-and make what he wishes from it. Fair, unfair, right, wrong, just, unjust. It all depends on you." The boy looked back down at his right hand, still lying half-curled in his lap. "So which path did I choose?" he asked himself softly. "Was this 'right' or 'just'?" *** A raven-haired teenager stepped out of the small village school building and into the bright afternoon sunshine. The other village children gathered around him in chattering, laughing groups as friends sought each other out after classes, but no one joined him, and he made no attempt to seek out others. He had no friends, not among them. As he began to walk home, some of the other children eyed him warily or moved away slightly. He acted as if he hadn't noticed. He was used to it. He'd been different enough to stand out among the other children, and they had not accepted him as a result. Nothing he had tried as a child had been able to change that, and after some time, he had given up, concluding that friends who were not willing to look past his hair color were not worth having. Besides, he had a different friend, and with her, he could withstand their indifference. He sped home to deposit his schoolwork in his room, neatly evading his fair-haired mother's questions with a mumbled reply. Then he was out the door again, headed for the one place he could truly relax and enjoy himself. Leaving the village behind, he ventured deeper into the forest, tying his hair back into a neat ponytail as he did so to keep it from his eyes. He reached his favorite tree and, laying a fond hand on it, smiled up at its great height and whispered a brief prayer to the woodland spirits. Then, with a deftness that spoke of long practice, he reached up for one of the lower branches and scampered up the tree as agilely as a squirrel. In the upper branches he stopped, grinning with anticipated enjoyment as he eyed the neighboring trees. Then he leapt the gap to the next tree, landing neatly with a joyful laugh before setting himself to jump again. *** Nearly to his full height as a man, the young half-elf said his farewells to his mother, lifting his single pack to his shoulder. With a final wave, he turned and left with the elven ranger. *** The raven-haired young adult strained against the longbow's upper arm, trying to pull it down enough to loop the twisted bowstring over the end. Sweat beaded on his forehead and arms, and he growled through tightly clenched teeth as he struggled to bend it that final fraction of an inch lower. "Come... on... darn... you... THERE!" Wiping sweat off his forehead and shaking out arms trembling from the effort, he picked up the newly-strung bow and carried it over to the range. Most of the others had already chosen quivers and were firing off arrows at the distant targets. The rangemaster gave both him and the bow a brief evaluating look as he handed over one of the few remaining quivers. With a short jerk of his head the elf assigned him to one of the free targets, face showed nothing of his thoughts. Placing the quiver down carefully, he extracted an arrow and nocked it to the bowstring. Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind of all but the target before him. Recalling his instructor's suggested words of focus, he whispered them to himself as well. "Solonor, guide my bow and speed my arrow." Eyes still closed, he raised the bow and drew the string back. *** "Aeryn." A hand was shaking his shoulder gently. "Wake up, Aeryn. It's your watch." The half-elf awoke in darkness and looked around. Despite the lack of light, he easily made out the human (for that was clearly his race) who had spoken standing over him. He felt slightly disorientated; his dreams had been full of the musical language of his youth, but the man before him spoke in the common tongue. Shaking his head to clear the last vestiges of both sleep and dream, he sat up. "Thank you, Vergar," he said, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He looked questioningly at the guardsman as he stood and stretched. "It's been a quiet night," the man said in answer to his wordless question, watching covertly as the half-elf strapped on his weapons-a longsword at the shoulder and swordbreaker at hip-with practiced speed. Then he added somewhat hesitantly but with noticeable curiosity, "The captain seems to put you on night watch quite a bit, doesn't he?" Aeryn nodded briefly, tying his raven hair back into a neat tail. "Aye. He does." Declining further comment, he parted the heavy curtain that served as a door for the caravan wagon, stepping out into the night. The man was right. He did indeed seem to be assigned more than was his fair share of night watches. But that was probably just a shrewd guard captain rather than any other reason; a captain with enough experience to know the benefits elven blood bestowed. The night was dark, with only a thin sliver of moon for light, and yet he could see clearly enough. The goddess only knew how the human guardsmen could do an adequate job with their limited night vision, yet somehow they managed. Aeryn began to walk around the edges of the large camp, his eyes sweeping the area beyond where the wagons were pulled into a tight, easily-protected circle. This was a fairly safe area, which was to say caravans had not been bothered here in past times, so there were only two guards patrolling. Aeryn gave a nod of acknowledgement to the other-human-guard as their paths crossed in their sweep, then his eyes returned to their job. The half-elf did not restrain his searching to people alone, but also kept a wary eye out for footprints, broken branches, or anything else that was out of place. Periodically, he would turn his head to check over the wagons as well, sometimes even crouching to peer under them against the possibility that someone might have eluded the human's patrol. Arriving back at his original starting point, he paused for a moment and drank from his canteen, lifting his head and listened to the soft sounds of the night's creatures. Recalling the human guard's comment, he mused, "Aye, a quiet night it is indeed," as he began his second circuit. *** Aeryn leaned against the upper frame of the wagon, surveying the village they were approaching as his legs automatically compensated for the jolting of the uneven road. It was a large village, but not anywhere close to the point where it might be called a town. Many of the villagefolk were already gathering at the outskirts in anticipation of the coming fair. Hoofbeats from behind the wagon announced the approach of one of the mounted guards. Turning to check who it was, the half-elf straightened as he recognized the second-in-command, a human by name of Rhode. The guards called him by the nickname he had acquired early on, after the quarter-staff that was only weapon he carried. As he pulled level with the wagon, the human slowed the horse's pace and beckoned him over. Stepping carefully to the side of the wagon, Aeryn crouched to bring his head to the same level as the human's. "What is it, Rod?" The guard looked at him seriously. "We're just about to arrive in our first village, and I thought I should let you know how guards need to act during the fairs." He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Unless you already know?" Aeryn shook his head. "I do not. I take it there is some difference?" "Yes, quite a difference. Out in the open, we are mainly here to scare away and-should it come to that-fight off bandits. During a fair, we do a quite different job. Which is, mainly, acting big and mean enough that no-one thinks of stealing anything from the stalls or wagons. Unless someone actually *does* try and steal something." The half-elf looked at him. "So you want me to act... menacing?" Rhode nodded. "You know, bulk large, glare at people, threaten to break things if anyone actually touches the wagon, that kind of thing. If it helps, think of something that makes you angry, or something nasty that happened to you as a child... " Aeryn's mind had little trouble settling on the childhood memories that had filled his dreams. His face went flinty. "Yes, exactly like that," Rhode said, nodding again. "Keep that face on, and look at anyone suspicious as if you're half a step away from grabbing them. And if they actually *do* try and steal something... " "... stop him?" Aeryn finished. The human nodded, adding, "But make him-or her-extremely sorry they made you go to the trouble of moving." Rhode spurred his horse as Aeryn stood, watching as the human cantered further along the line of wagons. After a moment, he realized that his face was relaxing from its menacing look and began working to restore it. The wagons rolled into the small clearing at the entrance of the village and began to form a loose circle, with the merchants opening the inner side of the wagon to remove the trestle tables they would use to display their wares. The wagon Aeryn was guarding came to a halt halfway across the clearing, with a clear line of sight down the central road of the village. The half-elf swept his raven hair out of his eyes and bound it back into a rough tail. Placing his unstrung bow and quiver on the front platform of the wagon, he leaped off the side and landed nimbly. Carefully shifting his face to the flinty look he had been practicing, he looked around. The two merchants bustling around the wagon, lowering the side, erecting their tables and beginning to set out their wares-all varieties of pottery, both decorative and utility. The few family members who had traveled with them began either helping with the setting up or starting the minor domestic tasks that had been impossible while traveling. Folk from the village began gathering around even before the merchants had erected the first table, curious as to what would be on offer this time around. The inevitable throngs of small children followed them like an unruly tail, begging and cajoling their parents that 'they just had to see this!' or 'buy me that one, mama!' Several of the villagers, glancing his way, stopped to stare with their eyes lingering on his pointed ears and almond eyes. Some few even quickly gathered their children closer around them, shooting fearful looks at him as they did so. He ignored them. Even in the village he had called home people had stared occasionally, and everywhere in the human lands there were those who had never seen half-elves before. Then, as yet another parent called her children away from him, he had an idea. Rhode wants me to look menacing? His thoughts recalled the way his once-childhood bully had acted. Maybe I should have some fun while I do so, then... Arranging his face into the scowl he had been practicing, he altered his gait to something he once remembered Círdan having used. It was a smooth, balanced walk, but with a hint of threat to it, making him seem as though he was stalking something. Or someone. Thus equipped, he began moving through the crowd around the tables the merchants were setting out, carefully scanning the crowd. Few of the villagers met his flinty gaze now, and those that did were quick to look away. None were looking like they had less-than-legal ideas in mind, not that there was all that much of excessive value among the pottery offered for sale. The merchants knew the village here from past trips, and the more exquisite and delicate vases and utensils-most of them useless for anything but decorative purposes-remained safely packed in the wagon. Checking the crowd as well as he could from where he was standing, Aeryn continued moving over to the other side of the merchant's stall. "Jan, come back here!" The ranger turned to see a toddler making a beeline for the tables. Without stopping to think, he took a graceful step and swept the boy up. "Oh no, little one," he said, intimidation forgotten about completely. He set the boy down with a smile, crouching between him and the stall. "Those are not toys for you to play with." The boy pouted at him disappointedly for a moment, swiftly following it with an amazed, "You got pointy ears!" "Aye, young one, that I do," Aeryn replied. Odd, he thought. This curious child seemed to be less scared of him than most of the adults in the village. "That is becau-" "Get away from my son!" The boy's mother cried, snatching the toddler up none too gently and spinning to put herself between them. She glared at him, fear and anger warring in her eyes. Aeryn stood slowly, his face going stony to keep from showing the hurt he felt. "Lady, I did nothing to harm him, nor would I have." "Just keep away from him, you... you freak!" she hissed, clutching the boy to her and backing away. The half-elf turned away from her with a small sigh, shaking his head. Trying to put what was an all-too frequent event out of his mind, he returned to scanning the crowd for trouble. None appeared, and after a while he found his mind returning to the toddler's words and expression. He really was not afraid of me at all, he mused. Just curious. "You got pointy ears!" indeed... it sounds like he never saw an elf-or a half-elf-befo- "Stop, thief!" Words well-known since the beginning of time. Aeryn snapped out of his reverie and spun, eyes scanning for the source of trouble. Well across the clearing, several of the guards were converging on a single running figure. The ranger quickly measured the distance and discarded running as an option. Pushing through the people gathered before the merchant's stall, he climbed back up onto the front of the wagon. Shading his eyes, he looked at the running thief and the guards chasing him, then swore a mild oath that he'd learned from the other guards during his time with the caravan. He is too far ahead of them. If he gets into the village proper, there will be no chance of finding him... Turning, Aeryn snatched up his bow, reaching into a pouch on his belt for the string. Arms briefly straining against the draw, he strung the bow and reached into his quiver for an arrow. His fingers touched the fletching of one and went on, then hesitated briefly before returning to the first. He drew it out. Instead of a blade or point, the arrow had a black stone ball that was egg-shaped for better flight. Designed for training when there was no proper target, the arrow flew almost as well as a bodkin-point and had little chance of serious injury. Fitting the odd arrow to his bow, Aeryn closed his eyes momentarily as he had so often in training. "Solonor, guide my bow and speed my arrow," he whispered in formal High Elvish, making the words more of a prayer than a focusing technique. He drew back the string and lifted the bow, only then opening his eyes to track his target. The fleeing thief had almost reached the edge of the crowd, so the ranger waited a moment longer. Then, targeting the space where he knew the thief would go, he carefully gauged the strength of his pull, slackening the string slightly before releasing the arrow. As it leaped from the bow and the string struck the forearm guard that he almost never removed, the half-elf already knew he'd made a mistake. "No," he muttered again in Elvish, eyes following the arrow's path. "Goddess, no!" He gently placed his bow down without taking his eyes from the arrow, praying-no, begging-that the capricious human deity Mielikki prove him wrong. The arrow arced over the crowded market square and slammed into the back of the thief's head, sending the man tumbling to the floor senseless. The crowd went silent as the guards who had been chasing the man pushed their way through. One knelt by the fallen thief, checking him quickly. "He's all right," the man announced to the crowd, "although the headache he'll have might stop him trying to steal again!" The villagers breathed sighs of relief, then began to go back to perusing the merchant's stalls, leaving their errant neighbor to the mercy of the guards. Aeryn did not move from where he stood on the wagon, his face showing none of his emotions. After a few moments, a man clambered up onto the wagon's platform. "You all right, Aeryn?" Rhode asked, coming up behind the half-elf and placing a hand on his shoulder. "That was a bloody good shot, you know. No need to act all stone-face abou-" "I missed," Aeryn replied softly, shaking his shoulder free of the man's grasp. "Missed?" the human asked incredulously. "Aeryn, I can't shoot that well on my best day! Don't go getting all depressed about hitting a half-inch or so to the left!" Aeryn turned. His face might have been a blank mask, but his eyes were not. Softly, he continued, "I was aiming for the man's back. Those arrows always strike higher than regular ones, and I had forgotten." He turned away again to watch the other guards dragging the man off. "I could have killed him." Rhode looked at him for a moment, then, placing his hand on the half-elf's shoulder, "Most guards I know wouldn't have admitted that, or cared about the man they struck." He gave Aeryn's shoulder a light squeeze and dropped his hand. "And that shows more about your character than anything else you've done under my command." Rhode turned and headed back to his duties, adding over his shoulder as he did so, "You're a good man, Aeryn. Try not to let it get you down." |
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