The Adventures of George: Prolog
I never thought that I would want to keep a journal. But I want to be able to look back on my life and remember my adventures. In order to start this journal I have to give a little bit about myself. My name is Lake. Yes, my name is Lake. The name I was supposed to be given was the name of the lake where my father met the Elven Lady. He never mentioned her by name in his journals. I think he did that for two reasons; one because he couldn't spell her name and because if the journals ever be read by someone else, he could pass them off as fanciful fiction based on his adventures.
He went on a grand adventure with her and several other adventurers. The adventurers met by a lake and went on a wondrous journey to save our lands. The mission was a success, but there were things that happened that my father regretted. In his journals I found out when he and the Elven Lady parted she was with child. Not just any child, but my older sibling.
The only reasoning that he gave for the parting was the difficulties between the races. The child would be shunned as a half elf in a human village, but the child would also be looked down upon as a half human child in an Elven village. She wouldn't live with him in a human world, and he wouldn't live her in the Elven world. It was only natural that she kept the child with her. So they said their last goodbyes at the lake where they had met.
It wasn't until after I had found the journals that I understood so much of what he did. He was always insistent that any group of Elves traveling through our little village were to be treated with respect. There was never a true acceptance of the Elven people; it was like the people of our little village tolerated the Elves because my father told them to. My grandmother told me that the villagers were nice because Father would have flipped out and destroyed something. I think he was hoping that if he bridged the gap between the two races he would be able to see the child he longed for, and he would get to see her again.
He didn't rule over the village. The village had a group of elders that made the laws. My father was best described as local law enforcement. He never became a knight a decorated knight. Or at least if he was, he never said anything about it. His job was to protect the village now, not run off and save the world. I remember a man coming to the house and asking him to go on another grand adventure. I remember my father's polite refusal, "I have done my service to this relm and would prefer to train the heros of tomorrow." He was respected and a good man and I loved him dearly.
There were nights that he would walk out to the lake out in the big pasture where he had planted a large oak tree. He had told me that it was so the live stock would have a place to rest in the shade while they were getting some water, but I always knew there was something more. He would walk down to the pasture in the middle of moon lit night and stare at the moon
Towards the end of his life, we found him underneath the oak tree. He had collapsed. I think that night he was saying goodbye to her. That was the last night he went out to the lake. When I first heard about the Elven Lady, I was shocked. Then there was my anger. How could he? How could he betray the memory of my mother? He loved my mother. Didn't he?
More reading revealed that he did love my mother, just not as deeply as the Elven Lady. He had married my mother because it was the right thing to do. My mother had been in love with him before he left on his grand adventure. She waited for him to come back to the village. She waited for him to return to her. I should mention that I found another journal along with the many kept by my father. There was one written by my mother.
In it, she wrote about what most girls write about, love, marriage, and children. At least that was the beginning of the journal. She started the journal just after he left. There was a forward about how she wanted him to come back and feel as if he hadn't missed anything. After he returned from the adventure, she noticed a change in him. He didn't look at her the way he did before he left. He had promised to come back and marry her. When he returned she looked into his eyes and realized that he didn't love her anymore. She knew it, but they had both made a promise. He intended to keep that promise.
They talked about the Elven Lady. My mother knew about the Elven Lady. My father told my mother that no mater what happened he was probably never going to see her again. I don't think he told her about the child. I think he thought it would break my mother's heart. She wrote in her journal that no matter what she would be a good wife to him and give him many sons. He promised that he would always protect her from harm.
About a year after the wedding she found out she was pregnant with me. The journal continues on about how she is going enjoy being a mother. Then my mother talks about feeling very weak. Then there is the last entry, dated the day before I was born. My mother talks about her impending death. The doctors don't know what is wrong with her. The cure potions didn't work and nothing had been able to cure her illness. She knew death was at the end of her bed ready to take her. She thought it only fitting that she was about to give life, that hers be taken from her. Her last words were meant for me.
"My child, as a lay here waiting for your arrival, I know that I must soon depart. I hope you are well. I hope that you live to be a good and kind person. Look after your father. Take care of the land. I am sorry I will not live to see you grow into the person I know you can become. I love you. I will be with you always."
There is a large ink blot and tear stain at the end of the sentence. I was born the next day and my mother died. My grandmother said she died of a broken heart, because she loved my father so much, and she wanted to give him many sons. My mother held me in her arms for a few moments. She kissed me gently then died. Granny said my father didn't even cry. He was very silent for a few days. They made sure I was going to live. Granny brought me to my father, who at first was very scared of me for some reason. Granny seemed to think it was because of me being a girl. He didn't know what to do with me. He named Lake, because he thought that my mother would like it. But it wasn't his only reason.
I grew up not truely understanding the difference between genders. My father treated me like any of the boys he trained. I was expected to lift the flour, shovel the crap, and do the chores around the farm. And that was just the warm up. My days were filled with hard work, blood sweat and lots of tears. I have no doubts in my mind that my father loved me, but there were times when I wondered.
When he thought I was ready, he was going to teach me how to use a sword, but Granny thought it to be undignified for a Lady to use a sword. I remember objecting, because there wasn't anything more effective that a sword. My father and Granny had a very loud argument. Then there was a compromise. I would learn about the bow. Being an archer was something that Lady could learn. As we spent more time together I realized how much he did care about me, but I wasn't the son he wanted.
He may have named me Lake, but he never called me Lake. For as long as I can remember, he called me "George". He told me once it was because he thought it was a good nick name at the time. Everyone on the farm and in training camp called me George, with the exception of Granny. She always called me Lake. She was insistent that I learn the finer points of being a Lady. I hated it. Wearing those yucky dresses and weird shoes. Sewing was about the only thing I picked up.
I learned to modify my clothing to keep the "boy" like appearance. I kept my hair short, stringy, and rather messy. When my body started to look more like a girl, I had to adapt the leather armor I prefered to keep up appearances. I was doing good for the most part. Most of the elders knew I was a girl. I don't think anyone else cared. If someone mistook me for a boy, I didn't correct them, I just went on with my day. It didn't matter to me.
After my father became sick, I stayed home for the most part. I watched mages, wizards, monks, clerics, and medicine woman come and go from his room. They tried remedy after remedy. Nothing cured his illness. The doctors made him as comfortable as possible. On my 15th birthday it was somber due to my father's deteriorating condition. We received visitors at the manor.
A Human named Marious and a Half Elf named Xaedes. They were invited into our home by Ralph, the latest page we kept around just incase father should come around. I was sitting with my father when they came up to the room. Just by looking at Xaedes I knew that he was my father's son. Xaedes was the unborn child he had left behind with his mother 17 years ago. My older brother I had just learned about days before.
At first I didn't know what think. I was reminded of the anger I felt when I first learned of the Elven Lady. If my father didn't love my mother, how could he have possibly loved me? Did he treat me like a boy because he thought in some twisted way that he would make up for lost time with a son he never had a chance to know? All those many questions left unanswered by my father's illness came to the forefront of my mind. There was a swell of emotion. I wanted to scream in his face, cry and tear up the room. I thought the best thing I could do was quietly stomp out of the room.
Ganny always said I had my father's temper. She was amazed that I learned to control the womanly tendencies to over react emotionally. Granny said it must have come from my mother. She was always level headed and calm; although it has been more difficult lately to keep my head. I find myself wanting to lash out at everything. I went to the archery range I had built behind the smoke house to cool off.
An hour so later, Xaedes found me outside relieving my frustration. I was using a goblin dummy as a target and hitting mark after mark. He made an attempt at polite conversation. It was odd watching him stammer to find the words. The only thing he could manage to say was, "So you're my younger brother?"
My first reaction was to correct him, but my anger being as complete as it was, I figured, what the hell. Why tell him that I was his younger sister? Let him know just how much he didn't know. I think there will come a time I will tell him. As far as guys went, he was ok. He was tall, skinny and high cheek bones of the Elf in him. He had my father's blue eyes. It was hard for me to look at him with out crying, but I kept my concentration on the target dummy infront of me.
He also made some interesting remark about preferring the sword. I wasn't really paying attention at that point. I looked up to notice Xaedes had the 2 swords mentioned in Father's journals. Father had given them to the Elven Lady for his son. Needless to say there was a moment of rage and jealousy. I lowered my bow. so not to tempt myself with putting an arrow between his eyes, and looked at him for a moment. Then looking up at his swords I plainly said "Father never got the chance to teach me about the sword. He mentioned that he would teach me when I was old enough and when he had retrieved his swords the special friend he gave them to for safe keeping." I gave him a cold stare. I was still angry at the world.
Marious had a grim look in his eyes when he found us. I knew my Father's suffering was over. He had gone to the great battle in the sky. Once again, I thought about breaking down and crying. I took a deep breath and held back the tears. My heart sank into a pit that I didn't know existed. I was alone except for an older brother I know nothing about.