Dorion stifled a laugh as the young girl fled his room in embarrassment. He re-entered his room and looked at the heap of "gifts" on his bed. Taking one by one and arranging them in piles according to size and shape, he decided to first open the small one that he had dropped earlier.
Unwrapping the delicate flower-like wrapping paper he found it was a book. "Not another book!" he mumbled. He opened the book to the front cover and read the scribbled writings of Elvish. It read:
To Our Future King and Hero of Hunvel,
Within these pages are the history that ties us all together, the history that we have made and now we pass to the next generation. I pray that you will have this be an heirloom unto your people for the days to come.
Cordially,

Authon, Steward of Hunvel
Dorion scratched his head. There was a steward? Now that he thought about it, it did make since. When there was no royal family for many years, someone must have ruled. But where had this Authon gone to?
Dorion began to skim through the pages. He opened to the accounts of the war of the Wraiths and the great victory achieved there. He read of his parents, of people he did not know named Kiarton and Amdireh, and of Leeum and Ahéawan, whom he remembered as friends of the royal family and prominent members of the Council of Hunvel.
He closed the book and looked around. He did not have much time before he was called back down to the dining hall, but he wanted to open one more heirloom. He picked up a large package, the largest one he had received. It was cold to the touch and he gently opened it. The steel blade caught his attention first and made him smile. My father's sword from the Wraith War, he thought proudly Inscribed upon the hilt of the blade was the Elven word for honor, Aista.
Dorion grabbed the hilt and began to twirl it about like a child with his toy. For the first time in forever, he felt happy with himself.
After a minute or two, he stepped out of his room with both the book and the sword. He had put on his normal day outfit to feel more comfortable, a dark blue tunic with leggings. A silver belt wrapped around his waist and he wore arm guards of fine, black, polished leather with the hawk of Hunvel etched in them. His hair was freely falling in his face and his eyes shown excitement and adventure.
He wandered out into the Hunvel gardens where he found that girl from his room and Ronin's friend sitting on a bench under the moonlight.

When he saw the elder Prince enter, Gerard stood up and bowed slightly. "Prince Dorion, you're looking well," he said sincerely, eyeing the beautiful sword the Prince held. "Is that the Sword of Hunvel?" he asked in awe.

Anita looked away, slightly abashed, but clamped her teeth when she saw the strutting form of Laurëa coming towards them. I hate that girl, she thought to herself. She was however, glad that the Prince Ronin was also on his way.

Dorion smiled at Ronin's friend. Gerard, is it? he wondered. "No, I'm afraid it isn't that important. This is my father's sword from the Wraith War." He twirled it about proudly and cut the shining blade through the air. After a moment, he gave a small smile and put it in sheath as he noticed two figures approaching. One was his brother, the other a rather angry-looking girl.
"Ronin," he called to his brother, flashing a big grin, "I see you have another dashing young woman on your heels. May this be the one you're going to keep?" Dorion was often known to tease his younger brother on his "love life" although he thought Ronin was rather young for such things.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ronin said with a snort. "This is the daughter of Leeum and Ahéawan. Father instructed me to accompany her out here and to tell you that you're wanted inside. I think they need to present you again as the heir to the throne or something."
He tried to keep his tone indifferent, but his jealousy of his brother still managed to show through in his words. He couldn't help, as well, that his eyes wandered over to Anita as he spoke, as though drawn to her by something other than his own mind.

Amused by the look Ronin was giving him, Dorion chuckled. He stepped next to Gerard and whispered, "What is this girl's name?" discreetly pointing at the redhead that was glaring at Ronin's "dashing young woman."

"Oh yes, that's my sister, Anita. I suppose you two haven't met before," he replied, though the look Anita was giving the Prince Dorion suggested otherwise.

Dorion crossed his arms. "Well, Anita...Nice to finally know your name."
He turned to Gerard. "She followed me into my room, quite odd really, but I'm used to it. The young women come in flocks, always trying to catch my eye. Maybe if I weren't so stubborn I'd finally choose one to call mine." Dorion laughed at the annoyed look he aroused from his brother.

Anita straightened as she heard her brother and the Prince Dorion talking. "Actually, we have met, dear brother mine," she said in a sarcastic and lofty voice. She laughed coldly and tried not to scowl as she looked back at Laurëa. "Hello, Prince Ronin," she said with a pretty smile. "And Laurëa, how are you?" Though her tone was amiable, inside she was bubbling with anger.

Laurëa looked to that girl, the coquette, and spoke in a sickly sweet manner. "Why I am just peachy, dear girl. Though I must say, Dorion, this little party of yours has been quite dull." She strutted over to a granite bench and sat down, smoothing her crimson skirts haughtily. She noticed the small group of youths gawking at her strangely---with disgust, dare she say?---and adjusted her silver headband, turning her cheek with her father's emblem engraved on it towards them so they might all have a good look in the moonlight.

Dorion frowned at the girl's comment, but almost immediately a smile was brought to his face. "I know that, my dear. Why do you think I am hiding in the gardens with all of you?" He laughed heartily at his own joke, though the others remained silent, all glaring at Laurëa.

Anita looked away from Dorion and saw Ronin looking slightly distressed. "Prince Ronin, are you alright?" She saw a look that was distinctly jealousy leave his features as he looked up.

Gerard looked to his sister. "He's fine 'Nita."

Anita laughed. "How many times must I tell you that my name is Anita?"

Gerard grinned. "At least once more. You know, all of this "Prince Ronin this, Prince Ronin that" is getting on my nerves. You wouldn't mind if she called you just Ronin, would you Ron?" Gerard had a way with annoying nick-names.

"As long as you don't call me 'Ron', I'm fine with it," Ronin said. "I must agree with you on this, Anita, his nicknames just get on my nerves." He flashed a wicked grin at Gerard as though daring him to say something about that.

Anita smiled. "Indeed he does, Ronin." Gerard looked injured, but Anita just laughed. "It's the truth, brother mine."

Dorion laughed at the redheads' playful banter. He could tell his brother was quite mad, and an angry Ronin was very likely to explode at the smallest provoking. Dorion was reminded of one time when he teased Ronin about his height---which wasn't much of an issue---but nonetheless it turned into an ugly wrestling match, right in the middle of the throne room. Of course, Dorion won the brawl, but was soon punished for provoking his brother.
Suddenly remembering his father's beckon, Dorion waved a brief goodbye to his younger friends and left the gardens. As he headed toward the dining hall, he was filled with anxiety. His father seemed to take every opportunity he could to introduce Dorion as the future King of Hunvel, and now that the whole town was assembled, who knew how else Kiran would embarrass his son.

Dorion entered the dining hall and he was greeted with loud cheers and claps. His face turned red as he walked past them. Lord Kiran stood talking to a member of the Council, but Hiranneth was sitting in her throne, looking concerned about something. Dorion was suddenly worried as he approached.
Before he could get to his mother to see what was wrong, Dorion felt his father's hand on his shoulder. "My son," Kiran said to him, "it is time."

Beaming with pride, Lord Kiran turned out to all the guests in the dining hall. "My people, Dorion has proven himself a worthy son and Prince of Hunvel. As is tradition, it is my pleasure to seat him in my throne for the first time, where in the future he may live out his days justly."

The crowd went up in a cheer as Kiran ushered his son to take a seat. Dorion stood stock still staring at his father. He had not known of this tradition, but his father's radiant face finally moved him to take a seat in the large throne.
Dorion ran his hands along the sides of the throne of the King of Hunvel. It was cast in gold and mithril. On it were inscriptions of Hunvel law and tradition too numerous to name. In the center of the back of the throne was carved a hawk, the symbol of Hunvel, its wings spread in noble command. As Dorion sat in the throne, he felt much older and wiser, and couldn't help but smile as the guests cheered for him.
His eyes drifting around the room, Dorion noticed on the outer sides of the dining hall a dark figure suddenly retreat. He began to puzzle over the figure, but his attention was soon taken away when his father beckoned him over to be introduced to yet another Council member.

Geran looked over the rail of the balcony at his children. They were talking happily with the young Princes while a smaller girl sat primly on a bench. He couldn't bring himself to smile though, and returned to his room. He changed into his nightwear and fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.
His dreams were troubled, however. He had just come back from a short hunting outing many years ago, and he had returned to his home to find his entire village burned to the ground. He stared at the ashes of what had been his home in disbelief. His entire family, gone!
In anguish, Geran fled to his uncle's house. He was standing in his uncle's garden, holding a note and looking at the swinging gate. The note was from his brother. He had a wild surge of hope: Kiarton was alive!
Geran was still waiting, or had been. He had kept the note for nearly twenty years, the note that said Kiarton would come back. But Geran never saw his brother again.

Becoming tired of her current location, Laurëa got up from her seat in the gardens and made her way into the dining hall. Picking up her skirts and walking briskly but deliberately, she strode down the hall toward the sounds of rejoicing. She turned a corner and abruptly collided with a dark figure.
"Excuse you!" snapped Laurëa as she regained her composure. Her cloaked offender glared at her, grunted, and continued to slink down the hall. Perturbed, Laurëa shouted after him---she was sure only a man could be so rude. "I think you owe the daughter of the house of Leeum an apology!"
The darkly appareled man turned slowly, eyes blazing. "Begging your pardon, young daughter of Leeum," he hissed. He then turned around and continued down the hall as before. Perhaps it was his mysterious appearance, his husky voice, or the way his eyes lingered too long on Laurëa that made her feel slightly uncomfortable as she watched him leave. She frowned, smoothed her white-blonde hair, and continued her haughty stride.

Leeum and his wife Ahéawan cheered with the congregation as Prince Dorion took his seat at the throne. Laurëa soon entered amidst the cheering, her face as sour as if she had just eaten a lemon, but still with her nose in the air. Despite her attempts for a dramatic entrance, neither of her parents noticed her until she sat down at the table beside them. Neither did they notice the strange expression that was on her face for the remainder of the evening.

Anita blushed furiously as Prince Dorion left. Gerard looked at her disapprovingly. "What were you doing in his bedroom, 'Nita?"

Anita ignored the annoying nick-name and her face went even redder, if that were possible. She then regained her composure and straightened her shoulders. "I was helping him with his gifts; he dropped one so I opened the door for him." She frowned suddenly. "Goodnight, Gerard, Ronin." Briskly leaving the gardens, she could hardly keep herself from running all the way home.

Gerard still looked reproachfully at his sister's retreating form, but a look of concern crossed his face when he looked back at Ronin. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, really," Ronin said. He sighed dramatically. "Guess we should head back inside. Wouldn't want to miss the precious Prince Dorion sitting on the royal throne for the first time," his voice dripped with sarcasm and they both laughed cheerfully. "I think I'll just go to bed now. Are you still up for some hunting in the morning?" Gerard nodded. "Alright, see you then."
Ronin headed off away from the celebration and to the edge of Hunvel where the Elves built their homes into the trees that grew among the buildings. It was here that Ronin had built his "home away from home," a quiet retreat where he didn't have to face Dorion or his parents or anyone. It was really only a flat among a tall tree's branches, but he was proud of his handiwork.
Climbing up through the tree's branches, he reached the flat quickly. Waiting for him there was a blanket that he slept on, his sword, which he realized wasn't a good thing to carry around but which he hadn't wanted to take to the party. There also sat his hawk, Kiarton, glossy red and brown feathers ruffled slightly by a breeze as he perched near the edge of the flat.
"G'night Kiarton," Ronin mumbled, before settling down on the blanket and falling asleep.

Gerard sat by himself in the gardens deep in thought. After a while, he remembered that his sister wanted to join them on the hunt. She had always been weird, but she was stubborn too. With a sigh, he got up from his bench and saw Ronin not to far off. He followed his friend through the streets of Hunvel, surprised that Ronin was heading for the tree homes of the Elves. Gerard saw him go up into a tree and cocked his head. What is he doing up there? Gerard climbed quietly to a low branch and saw his friend climbing up onto a flat. He gasped softly when Ronin called his bird "Kiarton." Gerard had heard much of Kiarton, his uncle, though they had never met. He wondered at how the bird got that name as he climbed farther up into the tree, making his way slowly.

Dorion embraced his father, feeling for the first time like a man, but in his heart he cursed his heritage.

Lord Kiran brushed a few long strands of brown hair from his son's face. "You should probably get to your room and open your other gifts. I notice that you already have two."
Dorion had not realized he had brought the two heirlooms in with him. He laughed and tried to hide his embarrassment. "I thought it would be okay to open two before the party ended. Is that alright?" he questioned.
"Of course," his father laughed. "I see no harm in it."
After most of the guests had left, Kiran escorted Dorion to his room. "Father," said Dorion as he came to his door, "I read some of the book that I opened."
Kiran nodded. "Yes the Book of History. One of my favorite pastimes in my early years as King was to read it."
"Well," Dorion interrupted, "I read something about a Steward. I don't recall you saying anything about a Steward."
Kiran became quiet and his hands shook. Dorion turned to him and his eyes met the fearful gaze of his father. Never before had Dorion seen his father so afraid about something that seemed so simple.
"Father?"
Kiran seemed to awake from a dream and looked sadly at his son. "There is no time for that now," he said simply, opening the bedroom door. "There is no time."
Dorion stepped into his room and his father wished him goodnight. Dorion peered out of the doorway while his father made a hasty retreat toward his own bedroom, his face covered with one hand.
Dorion became concerned, not knowing what to do. He had never before seen his father act this way.
He stepped out of his room and ventured into the hall. The silence was eerie to him and he headed toward the closest room in the hall, his brother's.
Dorion knocked on the door. "Ronin," he whispered, "Are you up?"
No answer.
Remembering the tree house of sorts his brother liked to frequent, Dorion made his way down to the streets of Hunvel, careful to avoid anyone he knew. It took him a minute to find the flat, but soon he came to the tree he remembered. Up in it he saw Ronin's bird, its red feathers flashing in the moon light. Dorion made his way to the tree and climbed up, having some trouble on the way up.
Finally getting himself up on the flat, Dorion found his brother sleeping. Upon seeing the intruder, the red hawk screeched, causing Dorion to jump.
"Shhh," he whispered to it. "I'm Ronin's brother." He felt foolish talking to a bird, but hoped he would calm it.

A screech broke through the pleasant dream Ronin was having, startling him back into reality. It took him but a moment to realize what had made the noise; Kiarton was beating his wings wildly, a sign that something had disturbed him.
His first thought was that someone, for whatever reason, was going to harm him. His mind still hazy with sleep, he quickly grabbed his knife which lay nearby and drew it from it's sheath, spinning to face his...brother?
"Dorion!" he shouted. "What are you doing here? You nearly scared me to death!"
He lowered his knife from its threatening position and put it back into its sheath. Coaxing the ruffled hawk from its perch and onto his arm, he calmed it with a touch of his hand.

Dorion was slightly embarrassed. His fear of the look on his father's face had driven him up here and now he realized it was probably nothing. He looked to Ronin.
"There's something weird going on around here, Ronin," he said softly. He straightened his back to act less fearful. "I was concerned when I came to your room and you did not answer." He eyed the red bird, then spotted Ronin's redheaded friend climbing up the tree. "What are you doing up here Gerard?"

"Is everyone here to interrupt my sleep?" Ronin asked in a joking manner when he saw Gerard approaching him from a low branch. He lowered his arm and the hawk hopped off of it down to the ground again.

"Sorry," Gerard said, a bit abashed. "I was just coming to tell you that Anita wants to join us on the hunt tomorrow. She's a little...odd, but she's good with a recurve." He eyed Ronin's hawk and stepped over to it.
"Why is that bird called Kiarton?"
There was a short silence and Gerard added, "That was my uncle's name. I never met him. Dad said he ran away to help..." He gasped. "The note said he would aid Hiranneth in a quest. That's your mother! Have you met Kiarton? Is he here? In Hunvel?"
Gerard felt a wild surge of hope.

Dorion furrowed his brows. "My mother has mentioned him to us before, but Gerard," Dorion held his breathe, "he's dead. He fought honorably in the Wraith War and was killed. They even have a memorial for him on the edge of the Hunvel forest." He thought a moment. "I'll go hunting with you tomorrow and show you, if you'd like."

Gerard looked at his feet, ignoring Dorion's last suggestion. "Father always thought it such. I kept telling him Kiarton was alive. I always live on false hope." He looked up with unseen tears in his eyes. "I've always been such an optimist. I need to learn to face reality." He pulled himself upright and sat down heavily. "Well, if you want to come, I'm sure Anita wouldn't mind." He chortled, then his face was sober. "I think I would like to see this memorial." He suddenly felt very weary, the events of the day all hitting him at once. "Well, I am dead tired. I'll see you guys tomorrow." With that he stood up, did a mock bow and climbed down.

As Gerard left, Ronin looked to his brother, who was fiddling with his hands nervously. "Listen, Dorion," he said, lightly placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sure you're just overreacting. There's nothing odd happening. Go to sleep, you've had a long day."

"Ronin, it's not my imagination." He pulled away from Ronin's hand. "Father was acting strange."
He opened his history book---which he still had on him---to the front cover and showed Ronin the writing from Authon the Steward. "I mentioned this and he went cold. I don't think I've ever seen him like that. Why do you think he would react in such a way?"

As Ronin examined the old book of Hunvel, his mind raced with everything that had happened that day. It wasn't adding up to anything in his sleep-deprived mind. All he wanted to do was lay down and leave these troubling topics for morning.
"Dorion, Father just gets that way sometimes," he said. "He just goes...cold. Don't let it bother you. He always has a lot on his mind."
He suppressed a yawn to keep talking. "Things will be clearer in the morning light. We'll talk about this tomorrow." He turned his back to his brother and straitened out his blanket before lying down again.

Somewhat abashed, Dorion left Ronin's tree flat without a word. As soon as he hopped down from the last branch, he broke out into a run toward the palace. He arrived at his room and opened the door, throwing himself in and locking it. He breathed heavily. Looking around he noticed his gifts still unopened. I'll do it in the morning, he thought sleepily. With that, he laid down to sleep.

Laurëa walked up the cobblestone pathway her home sleepily some few steps behind her parents. They were chuckling and talking about something they had heard at the Prince's little birthday celebration. However, their merriment ceased as they approached the door.

Laurëa stepped forward to see her father reading some piece of paper that had been nailed to their front door. His eyes were troubled, increasingly so as he read on. Ahéawan was reading over his shoulder, and in her face Laurëa saw fear and dread.

"What is it?" asked Laurëa. When neither of her parents showed any sign of acknowledgement, she asked again impatiently, "Father, what is it?"

Leeum shook his head slowly, fear in his eyes, as he folded the letter in half. "Authon," he whispered. "Authon has returned."