Sooo, I killed my old story because it was absolutely horrible and I couldn't bear to write on it anymore since it was so repulsive to me. Within time, I'll probably think this is one horrible as well, but that's beside the point, at least I like it at the moment. XD It's basically the same concept as in my last story, the early life of Glenn, but vastly different in the content. Enjoy and PLEASE review.

Chapter One

Introduction

Traditionally, heroes are always the smartest, bravest, and most handsome of all the men of the land. They are large and muscular, with a bright smile white enough to blind you as if looking at the sun; they always get the princesses and live great, heroic lives full of fame and fortune.

But now we travel back to a time, a time of knights and the grandest of heroes, where the dreams of the young boys come true as they rise to fame and grandeur. But don't be fooled: this is no story of a handsome hero of royal blood that rose to fame simply because of his high heritage. This is the story of a young misunderstood boy, who through tragedy and courage, rose to become the greatest of all the heroes: the Legendary Hero.

***

Two silent figures stood in quiet contemplation in their small one-roomed house. It was certainly nothing grand, with dirt and dust smudged over all the walls and floors, many cobwebs strung in the damp corners, a small hole in the roof that never failed to let rain in, complete with a whole slew of involuntary house guests: rats.

But to the young couple, this house was as magnificent as the castle of Guardia itself, because they had earned it themselves, from their own sweat and blood.

The young couple stayed stationary standing in the middle of the house, perfectly satisfied with being able to hold each other in their arms as long they liked with nobody to disagree or interfere with their relationship, since nobody, human or mystic, would agree with their union.

For they lived in a time of strict conformity: the Middle Ages, 575 AD. New ideas were not greatly welcomed, and in the midst of a savage war between the two races of the world, the Mystics and humans, their union was viewed with revulsion and even treason.

They came from two different lands, two different cultures, two different races: the man was Mystic, and the woman human. They were not even allowed to marry, however their strong ties of love transcended that of traditional customs.

The clouds uncovered the moon outside letting the soft white light flow into the tiny house, flooding it with an almost mystical looking light, showing the young couple's faces for the first time.

The young mystic man was very pale and had sharp well defined cheek-bones, common to most humanoid Mystics. He had striking amber eyes that almost seemed to glow in the soft night light, which seemed to hold such sadness and knowledge as if his eyes were made from the sap of the oldest and wisest tree, and bright green hair like the leaves of that same tree blossoming in spring.

The woman was pale and pallid, though not as much as her husband, with dusty brown hair that curled half way down her arched back and chocolate colored eyes that met her spouse's eyes with such love and adoration.

Finally they broke apart, coming to sit across from each other on either side of a small rickety table that was missing several inches from one of the legs, which had to be propped up with a thick moth-eaten book.

They remained in silence for several minutes more until the husband finally broke the silence between them.

"You should lie down," he said simply in his soft voice, that held a slight slur to it, as if the faint hissing of a snake. He got up from his chair, moving beside his wife to wrap his arms around her in the chilly house.

"I'm fine," she said, her hands impulsively going to her belly, which now bore their first unborn child.

They didn't feel the need to talk anymore, until chirps of forest bugs lulled the couple to sleep still embracing each other in the single chair, their only blanket being the soft moonlight from the night.