HalfElven: An Elfquest Story
by Maracae Grizzley
Note: Elfquest belongs to Wendy and Richard Pini, and only them. HalfElven, though, her backstory, her antecedents, and her descendants, belong to me, and only me. Well, me and about two or three others who were there for the original role-playing games that created this whole mess.
Oh, and yes, I know that HalfElven's a Mary Sue. It's not a crime to write about a Mary Sue. Just to write badly about one. And I have worked like you wouldn't believe to make sure that I wasn't writing badly.
This is a long-running story that is still in progress, so the first couple of chapters are going to be huge.
HalfElven: Book One
The forest wavered in the flickering torchlight. Humans walked through them carrying fire and the trees were afraid. Hidden among the trees, eyes watched the humans, and prepared to change the events that were-supposed-to-be. From the forest cover wolves emerged, carrying child-sized non-humans. Humans called them Demons, they called themselves Wolfriders, and thought they were alone of their race on this world that was not yet named Abode.
Chief of the Wolfriders was a flaxen-haired youth called Cutter. He was the eleventh Chief to lead them, and he would one day be accounted the greatest, but not yet. Eyes even the preternaturally aware Wolfriders couldn't see watched them from her hiding place, as she waited, and prepared herself to intervene.
She had already decided the form she would take. Like her mother, the watcher had the ability to alter her form to suit her needs, and though she could appear as fully elven as the Wolfriders, she chose not to. She carried two legacies in her blood, and she would honor both of them. That, and it felt plain weird without the extra digit on each hand.
On this world of two moons only humans had five digits on each hand. The Elves, from who descended the Wolfriders, their tunnel-digging reluctant allies the Trolls, and the fluttering Preservers who remained undiscovered yet by these children of Timmain's choice, they all had but 4 digits on each hand. She who watched the confrontation in the forest chose to wear her natural hand, though she was not of this world.
Her ears were smaller than the graceful wings of the elves, and yet larger than those of the humans, and delicately pointed as well. Her hair was red-gold as a sunset, with a streak of white flowing across each side from the part. She was taller than the tallest Wolfrider, though not by much, and also by choice. Her natural form was human-tall, though a lack of height was more easily adjusted to than missing the extra finger.
"If you burn the forest, we'll all starve, your tribe and mine!" the elf-chieftain cried out. That was her cue. She prepared to step out into visibility as there was but one more line to be said.
"Gotara wills a cleansing!"
She stepped forward and froze the human's arm as he was about to set the land ablaze. "Gotara is a lie and a phantom. Once you were alone on this world, but no longer. Times change, and I should think humans would adjust to change better than those longer lived than they."
The hatred-maddened human turned to look at her, and saw all the elven features to her form. The elf-chieftain looked at her and was confused. Madness gave the human shaman strength he didn't have, or maybe it was just the weight of what-must-be. Sanity fled his eyes as he flung the burning torch at her feet, the hungry fire greedily feeding on the ancient forest.
An elven bowstring twanged and the shaman's throat sprouted feathers as the spreading flames flickered in the woman's eyes. "I suppose that not even I could stop the burning."
The Wolfriders turned their companions around and began to flee at the command of their chieftain. The woman ran to catch up with them, and somehow she did. "What are you?" Cutter asked, even as several of his tribe-mates wondered the same question.
She grinned. "I am HalfElven, and there will be time enough for introductions when your people are safe in the Troll-caves."
The spreading fire followed them to the Holt. Trees old even to the ageless Wolfriders fell before the burning hunger. Injured, Redlance the Tracker felt their passing in his blood. He should have been able to defend them, but humans had rendered him unable to defend even himself.
There was chaos, but controlled chaos as the Wolfriders snatched what valuables they could as they gathered little ones and loved ones and prepared to run to the questionable safety of the Troll-caves. Strongbow watched the strange maiden with wariness. She was too human for his liking, for all that his wolf, Briersting, found nothing objectionable to her.
Cutter still didn't know what to make of the maiden who called herself HalfElven. In the history of the Wolfriders there was only one of half blood born to them, Timmorn, their first father, and the source of their wolf blood. As it happened, Cutter was watching her as Nightfall helped her lifemate out of the Tree. It was unmistakeable, the look of anguish and of longing that crossed her features, the way her hands reached out against her will. A wild hope surged up in his breast.
"Half-Elven, are you a healer?"
Tears glimmered in her eyes as the tribe fled through the burning forest. "No, I am not a healer, and it hurts. When I was born every other female of my line had the healing gifts, to a greater or lesser degree. We did not need another healer, and so I am cut off from my birthright."
Redlance heard her words, though he probably shouldn't have. Her voice was genuinely anguished, and he felt a sudden kinship with the strange HalfElven, if only in the experience of gifts denied.
They reached the metal door to the Troll caves and Cutter rapped on it fiercely. They heard grinding gears as the portal was opened, and then they forced their way in.
The Trolls were not welcoming of the wolf tribe, but they were also cowards, and so led the homeless elves into their inner sanctum. All the way to the throne of Greymung himself.
HalfElven watched as the exchange fell out as-it-should-be. Strange how the simple act of taking on a new name changed her thoughts and behaviors. It would be too dangerous to alter these events more than her simple presence and human-seeming hands already would. She even managed to shackle and control her blood-born urge towards melodrama. She didn't add her own comments on the Troll-King's fate and just how he had brought it on himself. If she had shown similar self-control at that party, them maybe her Prince . . . but no, the past was the past. If her Prince had lived she would have died a mortal death long ago, and wouldn't be here now. In any case the meteor made that pidling little war moot.
She forced herself to return to the present about the point the tiny tribe started down the "Tunnel of Golden Light". She felt a vague sort of dread, though not so vague as it might have been. Se knew what was on the other end of the tunnel, and she dreaded the trial. They would survive it, that was what-will-be, and even without her help. But maybe, just maybe, she can save the wolves.
Walking beside the wolves she watched the stargazer play with the new trinket he had acquired. HalfElven already knew about magnets and the magnetic qualities of direction, but Skywise was just discovering these concepts for the first time. She smiled to herself and stepped up beside him. He was fidgety and ill-at-ease, no more so than the other Wolfriders, but perhaps for a different reason.
"Do you miss the stars?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her, startled for a moment. "How? . . ."
She smiled. "It's ok. I understand. Did you know that they sing to us?"
He blinked, attention immediately diverted from wondering how she knew his thoughts. "They . . . sing??"
She nodded. "Yes. The day they were set in the sky they were taught to sing, and they sing still, though we've lost the ability to hear them. Some days I miss it more than others."
Skywise swallowed carefully. "How do you know? Are you a High One?"
She smiled with merriment and held up her hand. "Not with these, I'm not. Your High Ones were like you in that they have your hands. I just happen to know a bit more than you do about them at this time. You'll learn more about them as the years turn by, trust me, Skywise. You'll learn more about them then you could ever dream possible."
Strongbow watched her still. He did not trust her. She was too unnerving, too human, and humans were deadly snakes to be killed while the killing was good. Humans had killed his daughter, and he could never forgive them for that.
The other Wolfriders didn't say anything to their chief about the strange maiden, though she disturbed some more than others. The wolves, though, thought there was nothing at all extraordinary about her, and welcomed her among them as one of their own. Some chose to accept the judgment of their lupine companions. After all, the wolves didn't like the humans any more than they did. If the wolves accepted her then she couldn't be all bad.