3. Aelthas

Aelthas


  • Aelthas looked out over the road, copper eyes searching the darkness. He ran a hand through his dark red hair as he leaned an elbow against the wooden post that held up the tower he stood upon. He let his thoughts run for a few moments before snapping back to the present. Calmly, he began to set his armor on. This night was especially cold, and he found the silence in Jiyyd to be unusual. But then he remembered Kara, and told himself he was being paranoid. Adjusting his gauntlets, Aelthas walked down the ramp with his usual tranquility. He paused, casually studying a man sitting by the fire. The man wore the colors of the Kelemvorites. His name was Danaley, and he had the annoying habit of correcting Aelthas on his explanations and stories. He appeared to be bruised and generally roughed up.

    “I don’t suppose you’re enjoying those wounds,” Aelthas spoke quietly, as though anything louder might break the stillness of the night.

    “Not overly, damn worgs have strong jaws,” Danaley replied, rubbing his shoulder.

    Aelthas approached him and chanted in elven, positive energy flowing from his hands to Danaley. The bruises healed instantly, as did the scratches and bites. Danaley gave thanks, and Aelthas left Jiyyd through the western gate. He subconsciously drew his bow from his back as he headed down the very road he had been watching from the tower. He gave a passing glance to the Sisterhood home, which seemed as calm as Jiyyd.

    “Good evening, brother dearest.”

    He recognized the voice instantly as it spoke in elven, but not the tone. Aelthas whirled around to face it, raising his bow and notching an arrow swiftly. It was a dark night, but he could see the silver figure, the armor reflecting in the moonlight. It was the figure of Raryldor.

    “Come to visit me, I see?”

    It came closer.

    “I am curious Aelthas…what would make you hurt more. Rending your flesh from your bones would satisfy me. But I do not think it is quite enough.”

    Aelthas said nothing, keeping his bow trained on the ghoul. As it approached, Aelthas moved back. The stark night only made the elven figure stand out in the darkness. It was covered in silver armor from head to toe, armed with blade and shield. A second blade was sheathed at its side, Aelthas noted. The sun elf shook his head slowly, staring at the ghoul.

    “You!” a dwarven voice roared, in common.

    The ghoul turned its head to the dwarf, who was behind Aelthas.

    “Look. It is the meat,” the ghoul commented in elven.

    Aelthas took the opportunity to cast various spells of protection about him, finding it difficult to move. The dwarf was Dwin Dolvak, well known throughout Narfell. He had happened to come across Aelthas and the ghoul, along with two elven mages, Lucidious and Elridith. Acquaintances of Aelthas, they stood quietly at the sight of the ghoul. It turned back to Aelthas.

    “Shall I torture Silmathienia?”

    “You shall do nothing,” Aelthas’ lilting voice rang out in the darkness. The ghoul’s words had finally elicited a response from him.

    “Oh, but I shall, dear brother! I shall.”

    “I won’t let it.”

    The ghoul cackled madly, a freakish laugh. Its wicked demeanor oozed from behind the helmet. Aelthas could sense the grin upon its face. He kept his bow raised, though the ghoul stood right in front of him now, practically touching the arrow.

    “What’s that fark sayin’?” Dwin roared, about ready to leap on the ghoul.

    “Nothing, good sir dwarf,” Elridith answered.

    “Ignore his words Dwin, they are pointless,” added Lucidious.

    The two mages headed for the cliff above the group, quietly. The dark night was fading; soon it would be dawn. The ghoul and Dwin seemed to be insulting each other in dwarven. Aelthas drew his blade and shield, expecting violence. The ghoul laughed once again, causing Aelthas to shiver slightly.

    “That’s the spirit, my short-legged pray. Eat of the flesh…yesssss. Eat me, Dwin,” the ghoul hissed in common.

    Dwin took up a fighting stance, and Aelthas shuddered.

    “Eat of the flesssshhh.”

    “Ya sound like a farkin’ fool.”

    “A fool am I?”

    “Crawl back into whate’er mudpool ya came from.”

    “I will lick the marrow from your bonessss.”

    “Now ya sound like ya been schooled by a bard.”

    Aelthas shook his head as he watched the two fire threats and insults at each other. The ghoul dismissed the dwarf, and approached Aelthas again. It laughed. Aelthas walked backwards as the ghoul pushed forwards, and then stopped. The priest held his shield up in front of the ghoul, watching warily. It began to circle around him, sniffing.

    “Corellon will see you defeated, ghoul.”

    “The fool god knowsss nothing.”

    Dwin felt the need to warn Aelthas.

    “Stand back elf…it’ll bite ya.”

    “Myrkul rend your flesh, manling,” the ghoul replied.

    Aelthas backed away, towards Dwin, but soon stopped after realizing the futility of the action. The ghoul circled him again, slowly, sniffing. Aelthas’ swordarm began to shake, but that was barely visible. It tilted its head back, and Aelthas could once again sense a wicked grin.

    “Do you recall the cave, boy? It meant nothing.”

    The ghoul came to Aelthas’ right, and the sun elf saw Ting approaching. He motioned for her to stop, as she began to greet him. The ghoul did not seem to notice, or did not care.

    “He cared not a whit for you, boy. You stood in the way of his power, nothing more.”

    It hissed, “A stupid…lost…little boy. He pitied you.”

    “I do not listen to a ghoul,” Aelthas replied, using all his will to stand firm as the ghoul walked behind him. It laughed again.

    “Pathetic. All here for little me?” It paused, seeming to look right through Aelthas. “Do you think they love you? Celestine…yessss.”

    It came to his left, and Aelthas watched it out of the corner of his eye. The mention of Celestine troubled him. The ghoul seemed to know his thoughts.

    “Yessss. You sought Kara out in your misery. The old fool saw it all.”
    Aelthas shook his head, looking down. It continued, “A human. Fit for the meat locker, nothing less.”

    “You will not incite me, though you try,” Aelthas spoke quietly, eyeing the ground. He felt a new strength in him, perhaps out of anger.

    “He knew you, he did. You were nothing. Fear came for him. You were but a pawn. To toss aside for his own glory.” The ghoul was once again in front of Aelthas, gazing at him from under the helmet.

    “You are raving nonsense.” Aelthas looked to Dwin, who had positioned himself behind the ghoul.

    “Thissss. You seek thissss.” The ghoul sheathed his blade and held up the second one. Aelthas recognized it as Raryldor’s blade. A holy blade. Smoke rose from its hand as it held the sword up. Aelthas looked away, a struggle on his face. He had not expected to see Raryldor like this. He had not expected this flood of emotions. The ghoul sheathed the blade and drew the other, laughing to himself.

    “I will come for you in the night, boy. You chose your lovers well. Humans must sleep, must they not? Ghouls do not sleep.”

    With that, the ghoul casted a spell and vanished. It was not a spell of invisibility, but something different.

    “Where the fark he go,” Dwin grumbled, waving his axe in the air as though expecting for it to find the ghoul.

    Aelthas heard a soft, feminine voice behind him, “Should have killed him while you could.”

    The priest had no time to respond to her. The ghoul appeared behind Dwin, swinging his blade. The dwarf grunted and swung back. Lucidious and Elridith began casting a variety of magic against the ghoul. Aelthas hurriedly casted a spell of searing light, a hot beam of white light striking the ghoul. Smoke began to rise from under its armor, and Aelthas sent another beam of light. Dwin was able to knock it onto its knees, and Aelthas hit the ghoul with one more beam of holy light. The third beam sent it on its back. The body quivered, and then quit. The four were silent for a moment. Time seemed to stop.

    “The blade!” remembered Aelthas, running up to the fallen ghoul. He sheathed his own blade and kneeled down, drawing Raryldor’s sword. It seemed charged, as the sun elf held it in his hand. The others approached the body, along with some onlookers Aelthas had not noticed. They seemed to be talking, but Aelthas did not concern himself with them. Setting his shield to his back, he raised the holy blade high above him with both hands. The edge of the sword pointed down to the body of Raryldor. He paused for a moment. “For Corellon,” his voice trembled.

    The priest drove the blade down into its chest, bypassing the armor and piercing the very heart of Raryldor.


  • It is said that the very race of elves sprung from the blood of Corellon, during his many battles with Gruumsh. Corellon was a noble warrior, while Gruumsh was cruel and honorless. Their battle became the battle between the races they created. While Corellon defeated Gruumsh, he could not quite kill him, just as the elves cannot quite rid the world of the orcs. The length of such a conflict, one that is sure to be eternal, explains how the fair folk could harbor such a deep-seated hatred. Only their feelings for the drow, who most tel’quessir dare not even mention, rival it.

    Aelthas had given a lot of thought to the story of the battle between Corellon and Gruumsh lately. He stood in the middle of the windy plains south of Jiyyd, the plains the orcs claimed. The sun elf was watching the gates of their fortress, with narrowed eyes. The only sound coming from him was the occasional clank of the full plate he now wore, gifted to him by the elven bard Vine Spellsong, or the rattle of his bow against his back.

    “Tula, Aelthas.” Raryldor motioned for Aelthas to follow him back onto the road towards Jiyyd. The younger priest nodded and turned his gaze from the orc fortress calmly, without a word. The blood was beginning to dry on his blade; he would have to rinse it in the pond the two used for prayer and sometimes reverie. The sun followed the moon back to Jiyyd, finding a very bustling town inside the walls. Raryldor did not seem to take much interest in the crowd gathered around the campfire, but Aelthas was mildly curious. He stopped, taking a moment to search for any familiar faces, while Raryldor headed off to the pond. Soon enough a pair of smiling blue eyes stood before him.

    “Aaye!” Silmathienia greeted him, making her way out of the crowd.

    “Mae govannen, Silmathienia. Sut naa lle?” Aelthas asked her how she was. He glanced back to the crowd, seeing a variety of n’tel’quessir he was familiar with but never introduced himself to. He understood how short-lived the other races were, and based on what the sun elf had seen on his journey to Narfell he preferred to stay with his own people. Aelthas looked back to Silmathienia.

    “I am well, and you?” She looked to the blade he still held, dark with orc blood.

    He shrugged, eliciting a clank from his armor. Grinning he replied, “I’m not sure I can wear this armor much longer.” She laughed lightly; it was a sparkling laugh. By this time the moon was high in the night sky. “I should see to my prayers,” he explained, speaking softly. Getting a nod from the blonde elf, he turned and headed for the pond in the center of town. Raryldor was sitting quietly at the edge of the water, now clad in his grey robe. Aelthas knelt down next to him. After washing his blade in the pond, he closed his eyes and began his prayers with utter calm and tranquility.

    “Corellon, may your grace grant…” He prayed for the strength to protect his people. He prayed for their prosperity and well-being. He prayed for their triumph over the forces that would have them destroyed: the drow, the orcs, the servants of malicious deities that he knew to reside both above and below ground.

    When Aelthas opened his eyes, Raryldor had left him. He heard the yells of orc and man and his eyes widened in realization. The priest picked up the blade beside him, drew the elven shield from his back, and ran towards the sounds of battle. He came to the west gate. The crowd that had been peacefully gathered around the fire now stood at the gates, which lay broken and splintered at their feet. A few orcs were in the same state, arrows protruding from their bloodied bodies. There were mages and warriors, priests and bards, in a roughly assembled force. Jiyyd was certainly lucky to have them.

    An all too familiar drum sounded in the distance. Retaining his calm, Aelthas reached the gates to see Raryldor, whose armor continued to shine despite the orc blood upon it. But there was more to be spilled. Through the darkness they approached, tall hulking figures. An ugly chant filled the air, accompanied by an ominous drum. Aelthas gripped his sword tighter.

    The orcs leapt upon the defenders from the thick night fog, the gate torches illuminating their hideous faces. Aelthas drew up his shield to meet one particular orc that had its heart set on the sun elf. When placed next to a human warrior the priest appeared slight, let alone an orc. Its axe met Aelthas’ shield, shoving the elf back a few steps and off the broken gate. The sounds of metal clashing, voices yelling and grunting, and arrows whizzing by surrounded Aelthas. The young priest gritted his teeth and swung back at the orc, but only grazed its arm. The orc gave a dark laugh, its face twisting into a snarl. It went to lunge at the elf again, when an arrow buried itself in its shoulder. The orc groaned, giving Aelthas the opportunity to strike. He did so hurriedly, his tranquility giving way to the heat of battle. Down went the orc, and up came the sun. Aelthas joined Raryldor as the older priest fought, and the battle continued for quite some time.

    By the time daylight had arrived, the ground was strewn with orc bodies. The sons of Gruumsh had been defeated. None of the defenders had fallen. Aelthas came across the body of one especially large orc, and chanting a prayer to Corellon he flecked out its eye with his blade. He felt especially proud. Sheathing his blade, he only now took notice of the people around him. With Corellon’s grace he healed the wounded as best he could, rather dutifully, and then made his way to the inn for reverie. It was another victory against the orcs, but battle always unsettled the young sun elf.

    Aelthas opened the inn door to see, to his surprise, a short, silver-haired elven woman smiling brightly to him. About her neck hung a pendant of Angharradh. She introduced herself as Celestine.


  • **"Do you recall the cave, boy?"

    He found himself in a dark cave. A quiet waterfall was nearby, giving an eerie reflection of what little light there was in the murky water. Silmathienia and Aelthas stood next to each other on the cave floor above the water, eyes fixed on the scene before them. The cave floor narrowed and then widened, forming a bottleneck of dry ground. On that bottleneck stood Raryldor, with sword and shield, clad in his silver armor that shined as brightly as ever in the gloomy cave. He was facing nothing less than a displacer beast, its hideous wings flapping in a slow, intimidating rhythm. The two other elves could have sworn they had been in Jiyyd only a moment ago, enjoying an archery contest.

    Aelthas wasn’t sure whether the beast was actually grinning at him or that was just his imagination, as it slipped by Raryldor and crept towards the admittedly frightened sun elf.

    “What is it you are afraid of…” it wondered aloud, snarling.

    Raryldor followed the beast cautiously, “His faith is strong; you cannot break him.”

    The noble war priest stood a distance behind the beast, poised to strike at the first opportunity. Silmathienia began to edge away from the others quietly, towards the edge of the water. Aelthas, on the other hand, stood very still in a mix of fear and faith. His hand wandered to the blade at his side, and in that moment he imagined a very wicked, knowing expression on the creature’s face.

    It cast a spell, paralyzing Aelthas, and lunged at him. The young priest could only watch as it wracked his body with its claws, tearing into the poorly made banded mail and the flesh beneath it. “Aelthas!” Silmathienia cried out, garnering the displacer beast’s attention. Raryldor ran swiftly after the beast as it attacked Silmathienia. Aelthas was forced to watch as the beast tore into Silmathienia, seeing his nightmare come true.

    But soon, the war priest was upon the wicked creature, his blade dancing in the darkness. It decided Raryldor was more of a threat and turned on him, leaving Silmathienia bloodied and crying out in pain. Aelthas was freed from the paralysis, only then feeling pain ripping through his body. Gritting his teeth, he staggered over to Silmathienia and expended the last of the healing energy he possessed on her. Just then the displacer beast snarled one last time and hit the cave floor vanquished. Raryldor withdrew his blade from the creature calmly and looked up to see Aelthas and Silmathienia, leaning on each other.**


  • Silmathienia gives Aelthas a big and unexpected hug for no good reason.


  • The blade ran through the thin creature, between the ribs. It gave one last “Ucka!” and fell to the ground, lifeless. Aelthas drew the blade out slowly, looking around at the bodies of goblins that surrounded him with wide, surprised eyes. He ran the back of his swordhand against his forehead, panting lightly and recovering his posture. A soft giggle ran up to his side and he turned to see Silmathienia, who he only now remembered had been with him in the fight. Her sparkling blue eyes seemed to smile just as her lips did, as she pushed back the stray strands of her fine blonde hair. “Lle ume quel, Aelthas.” Well done. The sun elf returned the smile, sheathing his blade with a renewed calm. He looked up to the treetops, and then to the woods around them. Adjusting his chain mail and wooden shield, he began to head for Norwick and motioned for her to follow. These woods are nothing like Evermeet, he thought. They are cursed. Eventually the two elves came to the fire by the gates of Norwick, resting for a moment. “Praise be to Corellon,” Aelthas sighed.

    Silmathienia was a lively elf, always headed somewhere. And that somewhere was usually dangerous, so Aelthas felt compelled to travel with her for her protection. She was the only elf he really knew at the time. Though he had met a variety of elves, surprising in such a cold land so distant from Evermeet, it was only Silmathienia that he regularly came across. Aelthas prided himself on protecting tel’quessir, and she provided him with his first chance to do so. The young sun elf would often ask Silmathienia if there was anything he could do, or if there was anything she needed, in a rather subservient manner. Cynics thought the beautiful bard was using the naïve cleric to her advantage, but Aelthas never caught wind of such thoughts. If anything his sun elven heritage led him to think he was the superior, though that was a belief he never made known.

    In time, Aelthas came to know the other elves that would later help him to form the shesae en’ i’Seldarine, the platform for creating at least a semblance of an elven community in these frozen lands. There was Eluriel, in whose presence Aelthas often mixed up his words. He found the blue-haired moon elven ranger intriguing, but after his embarrassing attempt to end the feud between her and Raryldor he found himself in an awkward position when around her. When he met Eluriel he also met Meril. The friendly bard appeared to be more of Eluriel’s shadow than anything else, as whenever Aelthas saw Meril he was with Eluriel. He met Vell’cam, a brother in faith who had long been in Narfell. Along with Silmathienia, it would be these elves that the young priest would form what he most desired in these lands: a gathering of elves that believed in their own gods, and would work towards a community.

    But it was Raryldor that held the most influence over Aelthas, that he respected the most. The ghostly pale, middle-aged moon elf had taught Aelthas about many things, whether he had intended to or not. Raryldor was clearly the mentor figure to the young sun elf, though Aelthas was curious how Raryldor could be so focused on war and combat as a priest. But it was not something he worried about overly.

    Raryldor’s most direct influence on Aelthas was after the sun elf had tried to achieve reconciliation between Eluriel and Raryldor. The two were returning to Jiyyd after a trip to Ormpur. Aelthas was describing the problems he was having with getting Eluriel to speak with Raryldor. After a long pause, the silvery-haired elf stated simply, “You are fervent, Aelthas.” The sun elf learned to hold his tongue.