Well, someone sort of hinted that I didn't give enough of an ending to The Warrior and the Elf. You want to know what happens ever after, hmm? Well, I'm not adding another chapter, but this is a sequel type of thing. To be specific, it's my excuse to write bunch of cute Parn and Deedlit scenes and make up an elven marriage ceremony. I wanted to write this anyway, but I decided against writing the thing that left me the original opening for it, so . . . . Well, here goes.

**************

Elven Rites: The Crimson Star

**************

Parn watched the elves dancing in the clearing, a thoughtful look on his face. He felt distinctly out of place, even if this celebration was largely in his honor. After all, he was only a human, and he wasn't entirely comfortable with a night of dancing in a clearing lit by willow-wisps. For one thing, he wasn't a very good dancer, even in the slow court dances to which he vaguely knew the steps. And this elven dancing was another matter entirely. There were no set steps, simply wild twirling and graceful movements, all of which seemed to be improvised. He leaned back against a tree trunk, watching Deedlit as she spun near the center of it, her eyes aglow and her silver hair moving around her in a nimbus. She was very beautiful, he thought to himself.

That was another of his problems, in fact. While he had admitted to her that he cared for her deeply, there was still the one dark thing about his love. She was an elf; he was a human. All the saddest old stories told about how that ended. He would grow old and die, and she would remain forever young and beautiful. He could not wish that grief on her, could he? Yet, she had also told him of her love, and there would also be grief for her if they denied it. This was not the sort of thinking that Parn was comfortable with. He sighed quietly, wondering if there was any solution to the matter.

He was still watching her when the music silenced, and the dancing elves moved away from the center of the clearing. Deedlit dropped to the grass beside him. You aren't enjoying this, are you? she asked sadly.

I'm fine, Parn answered. I enjoy watching you dance.

She crossed her arms stubbbornly, but there was a faint hint of a blush on her features. You should dance, too.

Remember the last time I tried to dance, Deed?

She paused for several moments before answering. Wasn't that the time when we crashed into King Kashue?

Not quite. Also after my knighting.

She remembered. Oh, right! The dessert table . . . .

I'm surprised we ever managed to get the cream out of our hair. He grinned. No, I'd better not risk dancing again. I'm not very good at it.

Well, maybe later, she said. There's not so much here to bump into. Besides, you're so fast on your feet in a fight. I don't see why you shouldn't be good at dancing. She stopped speaking suddenly, as a tall elven woman stepped into the center of the clearing. Oh, it's Ellismar. She's very good.



She's a singer and story-teller, Parn. Deedlit watched the other woman. Possibly the best in the whole clan. I wonder what she'll be performing.

When Ellismar opened her mouth, any and all discussion ceased. Parn wondered how the water falling, the birds singing, and the wind laughing had somehow taken shape in a woman's voice with tones so pure. He listened to the song, charmed by the elven singer's voice.

The words, he realized were in the common tongue, not in the language of the elves. Yet, the soft elven accent came through touching the words with a certain mystery, making her song even more beautiful than if she had sung it in her native tongue.

Whisper to me,
Of love and summer dreams.
Whisper to me,
Of laughter and moonbeams.

My heart rests only,
When it lies near your own.
My eyes close softly,
When we two are alone.
My love is yours forever more,
If only you'd open the door.

Whisper to me,
Of songs and falling leaves,
Whisper to me,
Of a heart that never grieves.

Your voice is my anchor,
Against the seas of pain;
Our life an adventure,
From which we only gain.
Wrap your arms around me,
And end the boundary.

Whisper to me,
Of kisses and pure snow.
Whisper to me,
Of eyes and cheeks aglow.

Let our songs become one,
Let our lives meld as well,
Let our two threads be spun,
About the same spindle.
Hearts together always,
My love becomes a blaze.

Whisper to me,
Of rain and life newborn.
Whisper to me,
Of oaths to be sworn.

Place your hand within mine.
Look deeply in my eyes.
Tell me to you I shine.
Please tell me no more lies
Give me all of yourself,
That we may be one self.

Whisper to me,
Of truth and distant stars,
Whisper to me,
Of all that now is ours.


There was a ripple of approval in the clearing. Ellismar bowed slightly, then spoke. We have a stranger among us tonight, though his actions have shown us that he is no stranger. In his honor, I would like to tell the tale of Umial and Stormwind.

Parn blushed slightly from where he sat beside Deedlit.

It is a sad story, I will tell, a story of love and tears, life and death, gods and mortals. Most of you have heard this story before, but by night beneath the stars all stories are new and fresh. Ellismar's eyes seemed to rest upon Parn for a moment. In the days before the battle of the gods, when all the land was one, and the gods dwelt as a family beneath one roof, there was born a man called Stormwind. Legends tell of the battles he fought, but I will not recount those tales tonight, for my heart urges me to speak not of war, but of love. Know only that Stormwind was the foremost warrior of his age, and know that his courage and heart were pure as salamander flames.

In the course of his many journeys, Stormwind came to the Forest of Mirrors where he met Umial, a woman of the elves. Now Umial was under a curse of darkness that had been placed upon her at her birth. No light, whether of sun or moon, fire or star, could reach her eyes, and she dwelt in the eternal shadow of twilight. Despite this, she was blessed for the other side of her blindness was a voice like the nightingales within the forest, and no one could listen to her voice and not be moved to tears.

I need not tell you that at his first sight of her Stormwind felt that his own vision was obscured by her loveliness and his heart imprisoned by her unseeing eyes. I need not tell you this, for that is the way love is in the old tales, is it not? In any case, Stormwind had found love in the blind elven woman. He went to speak with her, and only then did he hear her magnificent voice.

Who are you?' she asked him, and he answered, Only a fighter, lady, with blood on his hands.' She smiled at him then, and took his hands between her own. Blood shed in honorable battles is no cause for shame. I cannot see your face, but it is in my heart that yours is an honorable nature.' Stormwind's heart was lightened, and for many days he tarried within the Forest of Mirrors, speaking with Umial.

And Umial too began to feel love growing within her heart, and so when the time came that Stormwind was again summoned by need, she cut a lock of her silver hair to give to him, and she told him, When your task is finished, return to me.' And Umial did not know that he was mortal. Stormwind left her then with sorrow, and his journeys took him far away. Years passed, but to elven Umial the time seemed short indeed.

And when his task was finished, Stormwind returned to her, and if his voice was more tired or his hands more weathered, Umial did not mark these changes. Many sweet years they spent together, and as day by day Stormwind grew older, Umial did not notice, and Stormwind did not tell her, for he believed she already knew.

And when the day came that Stormwind died, wasted by age, Umial could not understand how her lover, her dear lover had died of no cause she could find. For three days she wept over his grave, before the goddess Marfa took pity on her.

Daughter,' Marfa said, you have wept for three days, and your lover's grave is red with the flowers sprung from your tears.' Are they red?' Umial asked, I smelled them, but I could not see.' Marfa touched the elven woman gently. They are red as the blood in your heart. How long will you mourn thus?' Until three days becomes three moons, until three moons becomes three turnings, until three turnings becomes three centuries, until there is nothing left of grief within my heart. How could he die so soon?'

Marfa answered her with the truth, and Umial sobbed within the goddess' arms. At last, Marfa asked her, Would you not have loved him had you known? Would you have done any differently?' No,' Umial whispered. Wipe your eyes, daughter, and live as he would wish you to live.' Umial wiped her eyes and arose. Her heart never forgot Stormwind, but there was joy in her life as well as sorrow.

And the crimson flowers in the wood spread across the land, the flowers we call kirnielle, the crimson star. It is the flower of love, of love's first bloom, of it's sweetness, of the pain that may follow, and of love beyond death's power to stop. For this reason, fathers give them to those who may woo their daughters, lovers exchange them as a sign of favor, and brides wear them within their hair. And this is why these flowers are placed on the graves of true lovers. Ellismar paused then plucked one from the ground and held it so they could see it. This is the result of a blind woman's love and sorrow. Remember then the two are always intertwined, and do not let the one keep you from the other.

Ellismar bowed to the assembled elves and the single human in their midst. For a second Parn thought her eyes met his, conveying some silent message. Quiet applause rang, and eventually the music began again and elves returned to dancing in the clearing.

Parn continued to watch the elven bard. How, he wondered, had she touched upon a subject so close to his heart? That was incredible, he said at last.

I told you she was good. Deedlit's voice was quiet, as her mind was still partially caught up in the elven singer's story. The dancing will begin again soon. Would you like to go for a walk instead?

I don't mind sitting here actually, he said. It's a beautiful night.

Deedlit looked up at the sky and had to agree. The moon was just slightly more than half full and bright silver. Its light reflected off of the few tiny clouds that floated in the sky. She said to him with a gentle smile. You're right.

A male voice cleared its throat behind them. Am I interrupting a very important conversation?

The pair looked up to see Deedlit's father Karoth standing over them. The elf-lord chuckled. I wanted to have a short talk with you, Parn. If you don't mind, Deedlit?

Deedlit shook her head slowly.

Parn glanced at her, but she gestured that she had no idea what was on her father's mind. He stood. I am certainly willing to listen, Lord Karoth.

**************

Deedlit tells me that you will be leaving the Forest soon.

Parn nodded. Things are quiet now, but I expect that someone will be needing me again soon. There are too many things to be done for me to stay here for long.

Karoth clearly understood. Deedlit also says she will be going with you.

She is? I hoped that she would, but I didn't ask. The young fighter stopped. I'm sorry. You would prefer if she stayed here, wouldn't you? I understand. I can leave without warning or-

No, no. I want her to go with you, Karoth answered. She cares about you a great deal, you know.

Parn hesitated, then admitted,

Karoth studied him for a moment. Parn looked back at him, confusion evident in his face for many moments. At last, the elf nodded to himself, as if coming to a decision. He patted the young man's shoulder, then held something out to him. It was a small, red flower like the one Ellismar had plucked from the groung. Parn couldn't remember the elvish word for it, but she had translated it the crimson star. Take good care of my daughter, Karoth told him.

Parn stopped.

Karoth pushed the flower towards him, and left. Parn looked down at the flower for several moments before attaching it to his tunic, and returning to the clearing, still uncertain as to what had been going on in Karoth's mind. One part of him, however, understood completely.

**************



She looked up in surprise. Oh, you're back. What did my father say to you? You look so . . . serious.

Parn knelt beside her. He gave me this. He showed her the flower. But I think maybe I should give it to you.

You heard Ellismar-?

I was listening. He smiled. I told you before that I loved you. I did mean it. I know I'm only mortal, and I'm sort of reckless, and I'm completely . . . well, I sometimes don't see things that I should see.

You heard Ellismar's story. I don't care if you're mortal. And I don't care that you're reckless or oblivious. I love you, Parn. I have for a long time. She took the red flower from him. The tradition is to exchange them, she whispered, then plucked another from the ground. So this one is for you.

Oh, no, Parn said, smiling. It's all for you. It always has been.

**************

Alright, so what if Parn is OOC? He's ten years older if you'll recall, so he's entitled to be a little smarter. Well, I hope you enjoyed the first section of this little project. It will probably be a while before I write more of it, unless I get LOTS and LOTS of favorable reviews really quickly. The next sections will include a proposal and Melinar. I like Melinar and I haven't played with him in this section. This is also the time to make any requests for things I should do in this fic. Later, I'll already have made up my mind on everything.--Lady Belegwen Lightningblade.