I was seated cross-legged on our patio floor. My hands were on my knees, palms up. There were too many distractions here; Dogs were barking, people were passing by on the street, and the constant cries of hawkers selling their wares a few short blocks away kept me from relaxing.
Giving up a lost cause, I opened my eyes. Beautiful Lillith was seated opposite me, obviously in full reverie. Her eyes were closed. Her face a composed study in elven femininity. My heart ached from just looking at her.
The bell in the Highcliff Town Hall rang six times, signaling the end of another work day. There wasn't much work being done today, though, thanks to the Lizardlings. Every ship that tried to enter or leave the port was attacked and sunk. Trade was at a standstill. My father's ship The Northern Falcon hadn't been heard from for some days now.
I placed my hands on Lil's arms and pulled her gently toward me, like she taught me. Returning from reverie, like dancing, takes a careful, practiced lead.
Her pale gold eyes opened slowly as she returned to wakefulness. A dazed, unfocused look faded from her features. She looked at me and a radiant smile lit her face.
"So... did it work?" She asked, stretching languidly, like a contented house cat.
I looked down, shaking my head. I'll never get the hang of this, I thought.
"That's alright," she said taking my hand in hers, "It's not an easy thing to do. Even full blooded elves can take years to master reverie. It is an art, you know?"
"My mother says that reverie is a waste of time," I said sadly, not looking up, "she refuses to discuss it."
"That's unusual," she noted thoughtfully, "The Teu'Tel'Quessir are known for reverie. Maybe she is avoiding the pain it causes her."
"I don't know. My father has been away a lot. That's probably why she's so cranky; She really misses him," I said. "I haven't seen her in reverie for a long time. Now she just sleeps."
"Well, I'll pray for her," Lillith said, standing up, "I gotta go. I'm late. Tenna' ento lye omenta." She kissed me on the forehead.
"Tenna' san'," I returned, my heart racing.
"So, who's your little girlfriend?" my mother asked as she set the table for the evening meal. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to me.
"That's Lillith, it's not anything serious yet, she's a quarter Ssri'Tel'Quessir," I said, watching her for a reaction. "She lives at the orphanage."
"My son, the kidder," she scoffed, "you're just like your father; Human to the core; Master prevaricator extraordinaire. He would be so proud of you."
And son of the Queen of Sarcasm, popped into my head, but I didn't say a word. 'Tara was a veteran twister of half-elven ears.
"She really is dhaerow," I insisted, using the old pronunciation. "Why is it that no one will adopt her then?"
"Do not use that word in my presence," she said ominously. "There will never be one of those under my roof. Mark my words Rolan."
"She is what she is," I said stubbornly. "She can't change that." Lil had shown me a tiny spider tattoo on her back. All babies with even a hint of drow heritage were branded with that mark. Sometimes she was proud of it, sometimes she was ashamed.
"Any one with eyes can see her heritage," my mother retorted, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. I could tell she was beginning to heat up. moon elf or not, she still had quite a temper. "An elf with fair hair and pale skin, and those beautiful golden eyes could only be Ar'Tel'Quessir," 'tara continued. "Even if she's a hybrid, there's an awful lot of Ar'Tel' there. She is too sweet tempered to be full-blooded, though. That's in her favor. There's no Ssri'Tel' in her bloodline."
I gave up the argument; "All right, atara, you're right. She's Ar'Tel'Quessir. She also told me she can't stand the Teu'Tel'Quessir. I'm now a half-Orc." 'Tara gasped and threw me a warning look. "That's why she has anything to do with me; We're both half-something mutts." I threw up my hands in disgust and pushed my way out the back, slamming the door.
"Kela! Ascarer!," she called after me. "We're eating in an hour. When you come back, you leave that smart mouth outside... ...and what did I tell you about that back door?" She was livid. I heard pans slamming in the kitchen.
I had just enough time to get to the militia practice field to watch the archers compete. Lillith was in the chosen junior class. They were the best in our group. I missed making the team by two points in the scoring. She would not let me live it down; Two lousy points.
On her way back inside the training hall, Lil waved and blew me a kiss. I waved back, my thoughts returned to Lillith's heritage. I guess 'tara just wouldn't admit that my girl was an ancient enemy of the moon elves. I could just say her ancestors weren't from Illythiir, although all dark elves were unjustly banished to the underdark. ...and she's only one-quarter drow anyway, I thought. Small comfort in that.
When I got home, I found my mother sitting at the dining room table reading a letter from my father. I sneaked up from behind and slid my arms around her. I never could surprise her. She always heard me before I got very close.
"What about that mouth?" she asked with a coldness I knew she did not feel. "It has no place in this house."
"It's outside," I said meekly. This is a battle I can't win, I thought. "I'm sorry atara, that was a dumb, childish thing to say."
"Yes, you are a child, for now," she said thoughtfully. "But in two more years, you will put away childish things and become a man. Have you decided on what path you'll walk yet? You've trained for ten years with the militia. You should have some idea. Somehow, I can't see you as a sailor."
"No, not yet," I answered. My wanting to sign on with the Falcon did not sit well with her. "I'm not really sure. The only experience I have is with the bounty patrol. Branson has a list of recruiters." I shrugged. "I haven't spoken to any of them yet."
"Whatever you decide, put your weight behind it," 'tara couldn't resist using her homespun elven platitudes on me.
"What do you think of Lillith?" I asked her, not really wanting to get an answer. I still couldn't understand why she wouldn't even admit it was possible that Lil was a quarter-drow.
She surprised me with her answer; "She appears to be a fine young woman. She's strong and has more common sense than I could hope for. Here's my question for you; why do you insult her by calling her dhaerow?"
I opened my mouth to answer, then snapped it shut.
She did not allow me to answer. "Lillith is not a drow, a dhaerow, or a Ssri'Tel'Quessir. If she was, you would be dead right now, no appeal, and no reprieve."
She watched me for a reaction. I could only stare at her with my mouth open.
"The drow were so evil, they would kill anyone who was not a dark elf. They lived to hate, even each other. Were I a dark elf, I would kill you for what you said this afternoon," she said, her eyes showing a mixture of sadness and sympathy. "You were baiting me, right? Trying to get a rise out of me?"
"She is a quarter-drow," I said with resignation, avoiding her questions. "She has a spider tattoo on her back." After I said that, 'tara raised an eyebrow and looked at me thoughtfully.
"Is this tattoo black or silver?" she asked in a measured tone.
"It's black," I answered. "And it's centered on her back, between the shoulders. Lil told me that her skin color determined the mark's color; You need to be able to see it."
"She's only partially right," 'tara said, shifting into her teaching mode; "The color of the mark was set by a treaty at the conclusion of the Crown Wars. The drow, after the descent, marked their own with a very intricate silver tattoo. They branded the unfaithful with a garish distortion of that mark; Those that bore that silvered mark were considered less than slaves. Few of them survived."
She continued the lesson; "The Little Black Spider, or Liantelle, as it was called, was more protection than brand. Us Teu'Tel', in particular, used it to identify as well as protect the little ones that were set adrift in a sea of misery following the War of Crowns. It was a shameful chapter in our history," she concluded. I could see the sadness she felt in her eyes.
"So, Lil has nothing to be ashamed of," I said, the relief I felt was real. I just wish a few people in Highcliff would get a clue. "If more people knew, she'd be treated better."
My mother put her arms around me and kissed the top of my head. "I believe your lady love has all the strengths and very few of the weaknesses of the Human, the Ssri'Tel', and the Ar'Tel'. The fact that the children of these races are living in harmony today, gives me hope for the future." she finished; "Now get washed up. It's time to eat." After swatting my back, she turned to the kitchen.
While wandering in the forest east of Highcliff, I came upon a camp set up in a shady hollow, surrounded by towering trees. A stocky, bald, middle aged fellow was piling firewood beside a cold fire pit.
There were four bedrolls set up under a huge, old oak; That left three more people unaccounted for. After unseating my short sword in its scabbard, I hailed the camp.
Getting closer, I could see that the man in the clearing was a stout shield dwarf, who approached me with his right hand outstretched. He shook my hand and announced, "The name's Khelgar, of the clan Ironfist. Who might you be, lad?"
With my most formal bow, I returned the courtesy, "Rolan Edgewater, of Highcliff, at your service."
"Well met, well met," the dwarf responded heartily, "We don't see many adventuring lads like yourself here, especially with the lizards kicking up such a fuss." His gaze was intently focused on the hilt of my sword, near my left ear.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked, not entirely sure of myself.
"Warrior's trade?" he asked gruffly, extending a beautifully crafted dwarven warhammer, handle first.
From my militia training, I understood warrior's trade; If a fighter wished to examine another's weapon, he offered one in trade to prevent that fighter from being unarmed. It was a courtesy.
"Your leave," I responded. When he nodded, I drew the short sword from its scabbard with my right hand. He winced at the ringing sound the blade produced as I drew it. Reversing my simple weapon with a flourish, I presented it hilt first.
"Ahh," he said with obvious pleasure, "ye know the warrior's dance. Are ye blooded yet?"
"Beasts only," I replied, "most of our patrols deal with wild animals." I lowered my head.
"There's no shame in that, lad," he reassured me, "you're still young. Keep working at it. Maybe there'll be a lizard or two just around the corner." He winked at me.
"I sure hope so, " I said, fingering the grip on the warhammer in my hand. It was a lot heavier than it looked. Its balance was perfect.
"If ya don't mind me askin'," the dwarf continued, "where did ya get this blade?"
"My father bought it in Amn. He gave it to me when I qualified for militia school about ten years ago." I explained. "He said it would be a good practice sword, because one edge was ruined and had to be ground off."
"Oh, no lad," the dwarf objected, running his thumb down the the wide flattened edge of the blade, "This flat is like the face of a hammer..."
"...and that's why it's called a hammersword," said a woman's voice, coming from our right.
Turning in that direction, I noticed a woman striding up the path... or at least she appeared to be a woman. I looked again, not believing what my eyes were seeing. She was tall, with flaming red hair that was pulled back over her elven ears. Her piercing gaze revealed ruby red eyes. Her most shocking feature was a pair of tiny horns that grew along the top of her head.
She stopped behind me and placed her hands on her hips. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's rude to stare?" she said, fixing me in place with her intense tone of voice.
"Uhh... I'm...sorry," I stammered, turning to face her, "I've never seen a girl like you before."
Khelgar seemed to be enjoying this exchange. He had a wry grin on his face.
She held out a fine-boned hand and said, "I'm Neeshka, we're here to look into the lizard problem for Elder Mayne."
I took her hand. "Rolan Edgewater, at your service m'lady." Looking down, I noticed a long pink appendage waving back and forth slowly behind her.
"That's called a tail," she said reproachfully, "and you are staring again."
Feeling my face heat up, I chose to keep silent.
"He's so cute," she teased, "Khelgar, can I keep him? Please?"
"No, lass," the dwarf joined in, "I don't think his mother is finished with him yet."
Not wanting to lose any more ground, I stood up on my toes and kissed her on the cheek. I was surrounded by the scent of leather, sweat, and brimstone. "You are a very exotic, desirable woman." I crooned in my best bedroom voice.
Roaring with laughter, Khelgar dropped the hammersword and clutched his oversized gut.
"You won... this time," she said, shaking her head and walking over to the other side of the clearing. Her tail was tracing lazy arcs as she walked.
My overheated imagination conjured up a bathtub scene...
Elven Translations;
Tenna' ento lye omenta- Until next we meet.
Tenna' san'- Until then.
Ar'Tel'Quessir- Sun Elf
Teu'Tel'Quessir- Moon Elf
Ssri'Tel'Quessir- Dark Elf or Drow
atara-mother ('tara-fam. col. Used by Rolan.)
dhaerow- traitor
Kela-Go away.
Ascarer-impetuous one.
A/N Heartfelt thanks to Llandaryn for reminding me that the world, especially Faerun, does not revolve around America.