:Chapter 1:
A quarter moon hung over Heimdall; a crisp, cool night breeze blew itself against the wooden shutters of the houses. All was quiet and peaceful as the elves slept in their cottages. It was as if time had completely stopped.
A young woman's voice broke the dark tranquility.
"Mithos!" it called, "Mithos!"
There was no reply. 'Darn it! Where is that little brother of mine?' the young woman thought. She called his name again.
"…What the heck is going on Martel?" asked another voice.
Martel turned, an elf about her age stood on his doorstep, still in his pajamas stretching and yawing.
"Oh, hey Jent," she said to him, "I'm sorry if I interrupted your sleep."
"Oh, that's alright," said Jent, "I'm not sure the rest of Heimdall will want to lose anymore beauty sleep though."
Martel chuckled a little bit, "Yeah, I'll try to be quieter."
"You're brother get away from you again?" he asked.
Well…yeah," she answered uncertainly, "You seen him anywhere?"
"Yeah, I saw him sneak out," he said, "He went into Torrent forest I think…"
"He what!" Martel asked aghast, "What about the sentry?"
"Well…I guess he fell asleep."
"And you just let him go! There are monsters in there Jent!"
"Uhh…well…" Jent put his hand behind his head in a nervous gesture, "I guess I forgot about them…"
Martel gave him one last look of frustration before she headed towards the Torrent forest. Jent called back to her, "Wait! It's dangerous! Let me come with you!"
He ran back inside to get dressed, and by the time he came back out she was already deep in the forest.
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Torrent forest was alive with all kinds of insects and night creatures, but, surprisingly, no monsters. The most dangerous thing out there at that moment was the owl, watching hungrily for any mice fool enough to cross its path. Fireflies danced in mid air, a trail of mist hung close to the ground. The stage was set for an epic battle.
Mithos swung his stick in an arc, missing his opponent only by inches. He pressed his attack, and swung a wide vertical swing that slammed the tip of his weapon into the ground. He had missed yet again, but, undaunted, he charged into him and was knocked back on his butt by a powerful blow.
He got up and charged again, the owl that was waiting for some sort of mouse to come along now looked at the boy with interest. He watched as he swung wildly at seemingly air. And he was shouting, at what? Something invisible obviously, something only he could see.
"Ha!" the boy laughed, "is this all the power of humanity can muster against me?"
And the same boy answered back, "You will never win! I will defeat you," he yelled at himself as he pointed his sword at the invisible something defiantly.
"Ha ha ha!" laughed the boy again, in an attempt to make his voice deeper, " you cannot win, evil will always triumph! Give up!"
"Never!" he yelled defiantly to himself, he charged again. What was once curiosity, the owl now watched with confusion. The boy swung his weapon this way and that at nothing at all, and whenever he taunted himself he would answer defiantly. It was almost if he had an alter ego of some sort. After some ten minutes of watching, the owl finally flew off, coming to this conclusion: Bipedals are weird.
Mithos let out a final cry of rage at himself and thrusted his sword at thin air. He then responded to his own attack by taking the "Point" of the weapon and putting it to his heart. Then he cried in a pained voice, "Uhh…I have been slain! Curse you legendary hero! Uhh…what a cruel world!" and fell to the ground at his sister's feet.
As Martel looked down upon him, arms crossed about her chest, Mithos could feel the weight of her stare. I felt like a hundred some pounds suddenly fell onto his stomach; he sat up and gave a nervous smile at his sister.
"Uhh…Hi."
"…Hi? HI!" He flinched as his sister raised her voice, " do you know just how long I've been looking for you?"
As Mithos opened his mouth to speak she interrupted him, "No! I don't want to hear it Mithos! I just want you to get your butt out of this forest and back to bed!" She pointed to the path behind her. Mithos sighed and began to walk past her when she asked, "What were you thinking? Coming out into the middle of the night, on a school night no doubt, and venturing into this monster infested forest just to play swords?"
As they walked, Mithos tried to speak but, as usual, his sister wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise. "I mean, you're already great at magic Mithos! Why would you need a sword?"
"But think about it sis!" Mithos finally said, "magic users are always hiding behind the people with weapons so they can cast their spells, but if I learn how to use a sword and magic, I'll be invincible!"
Martel put a hand to her forehead and sighed, "I don't think it works like that Mithos…"
"Well of course it does! Why wouldn't it?" Mithos once again took out the stick, "I can be charging up a thunder blade spell, and while my opponent is busy defending himself against my swordplay, the spell will come down right on him!" Mithos did a few swings with his stick as he spoke and managed to almost hit his sister, who leaned back just enough to let the tip of the stick pass a hair away from her nose.
"Watch where you're swinging that thing will you!" She said, with great hand-eye coordination she caught the stick in mid swing and pulled it away from him.
"Hey! I was using that!" Mithos grabbed the other end and began pulling it back, but his sister had a strong grip. "Let go!"
"No!" said Martel, now grasping the stick with two hands, "Your going to hurt someone!"
"Give…it…back!" Finally succeeding in wrenching the stick from her grasp, Mithos fell back on his tush, grasping the stick victoriously.
Martel, outraged, picked up a stick and charged at him. "Why you!"
Mithos saw her coming and began to run down the path, his sister yelled after him. "Get back here!" she called, right behind him her stick raised menacingly. As he looked back, he tripped on a stone and fell on his stomach, when he looked up Martel was standing right over him. He stood and raised his stick, "En garde!" he yelled. He lunged at her; Martel came to a sudden stop and blocked her brother's attack. She countered with a downward slash, but her brother blocked it. Mithos responded by swinging his stick in a horizontal arc. And so the duel continued until the moon just barely hung over them and the light had begun to clear the night sky. They sat, exhausted and laughing. Then picked up their sticks and moved off into bed.
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The village was in an uproar that day as the village chief stormed through the streets, an angry mob at his heels. He had that famous look in his eye, the 'someone has violated the sacred laws of Heimdall and needs to be punished' look. The crowed grew larger behind him, those who were just joining up asked what was going on and sure enough, someone had broken the sacred laws of Heimdall. When they asked whom, the other whispered it in their ear, even though surely everyone knew by now, and the person who had asked would look upon the mobster in shock. Could that really be true? Could someone live for so long among them and they never knew? To a scholar, maybe at a different point and time, it could have proven a very interesting find.
But as of right now, the news was shocking. It made the ancient elven blood boil; so the news was much like a fever, in the view that everyone was hot with anger. The fever rose to a pitch as they finally came to the house, but what they hadn't expected to see was a young elf standing between them and the perpetrators.
"Step aside Jent," said the village chief.
Jent did not move, he stood his ground firmly, arms raised as if he were hanging on a cross, "I'm not moving from this spot!"
The village chief took a step forward, so that his foot was on the first step of the porch, Jent still did not move.
"Jent, you should know the rules of this village far better than anyone!" yelled the chief, "Now stand aside!"
Jent replied with nothing but a cold stare, the chief's face turned red, "Listen to me, I won't have my own son disgracing us! You know as well as I do the code of our village! You know that Half-elves are not allowed here!"
"So what if they're half-elves!" Jent yelled back, "this is Mithos and Martel we're talking about! What's the difference between us anyway!"
"There's a lot of difference between us!" retorted the chief, "but I don't have time to argue with you! Stand aside now Jent! Or so help me I'll-"
"You'll what? Throw me in the closet again? I'm not a little kid anymore dad! I won't let you hurt my friends!"
"Those things are not, and can never be, your friends!"
"Shows what you know! They're everyone's friends!" Jent pointed to one of the elves in the mob, "Sear! When you're son feel into the well, who was it that had himself lowered into it so that he could save him!"
The elf did not answer, but picked up his son and set him on his shoulders. Jent pointed to another elf, "And you Gie! When you feel down while you were carrying that heavy load! Who was it that healed your broken arm!"
The elf also said nothing, Jent pointed to another, "And you Kent! When you had that test you didn't study for and you were going to fail, who was it that helped you ace it even though he was only in 6th grade?"
"Enough! Jent, though Mithos and Martel have made slight contributions to our village, they are still Halve-elves!"
"And someone would have helped my son eventually!" called Sear.
"Yeah!" called Gie, "And I could have just gotten the village chief to heal my arm!"
"And I could've aced that test if I really tried!" pitched in Kent.
The whole crowd was mumbling, looking for excuses, for loopholes to the contract of friendship.
"I can't believe you people!" yelled Jent, "They helped you and your not going to help them? WHAT KIND OF FRIENDS ARE YOU!"
"If they were our friends," yelled an elf, "then they would have respected our rules and left!" at that all the other elves mumbled loudly in agreement.
Jent scoffed and slapped his hand against his forehead, "I give up on you guys…"
"Enough of this!" called the chief over the cal amour, "Jent, if you don't get away from that door this instant I will personally have you banished from the village!"
Jent, finally weary of argument, said, "Fine, I'll move. Do what you will, but you'll all pay for it someday, mark my words."
He moved away from the door, the chief and the entire crowed went inside, and Jent wondered how they would all fit. They searched every corner of the house, it wasn't a very big house to begin with, and found no trace of Martel or Mithos.
"They're gone!" said an elf.
The village chief said nothing and went outside, and looked at the grinning face of his son. "Well…whatever the result of this, they are still gone," he turned to address the crowd, "and I hereby ban them form this village of the rest of their natural life! Further more, no one is to ever speak of Mithos or Martel in this village again!" He said these last words with a bit of spite in his voice, aimed directly at the heart of his son.
The crowed dispersed soon after that, and continued about their daily lives. Jent looked out the window of his house later that afternoon, wondering if his best friends would be all right in the world beyond the gates of Heimdall…