Clearly I need to work on making these shorter... ah well...
I'm about to introduce about thirty billion more characters. Prepare thyselves.
"Morning, Silvan."
"Good morning, Raven," Storm returned, wondering how the tall elf had known it was him; Raven was seated on the edge of a short cliff, legs dangling over the edge as he chipped at a deer antler with his knife, and Storm had approached from the opposite direction.
Storm folded his legs under him and settled next to the Avari to watch the sunrise. Raven always chose the spots with the best views.
"Dawn wanted to see you," Raven remarked after several minutes.
Storm (who'd been zoning out, watching a beetle crawl through the dirt) jerked back to reality and made a face. "You tell me this now?"
Raven shrugged, and a smirk flickered across his face. "Just showing how much I care."
Storm stuck out his tongue at him and stood. While the Avari leader wanting to talk to him wasn't exactly the same as a summons from the king, he might as well go see what she wanted.
He wandered back down the slope toward the current Avari camp, jumping off trees and rocks out of habit if nothing else. The camp was only a few fire pits surrounded by elves eating breakfast, but a camp it was, and it fit Storm's observations of the Avari over the last few years. Their life was a simple one, if not always easy, but Storm liked it that way. Plus, he had friends now—two of whom had immediately turned against him upon introducing him to the rest of the Avari, but still.
He paused halfway down the hill, chuckling to himself as he remembered.
. . . . . .
"Hello, everyone," Raven greeted the approaching group of elves, who had already swerved to meet them. It was a large column of probably a hundred and fifty elves, all of them in simple brown and green clothing, most carrying bows and light packs. They were of a variety of heights, builds (within the normal elven range, of course), and hair colors, suggesting the tribe was a mix of Noldor, Sindar, and Silvan bloodlines, but all had some variation of the three diagonal gray dye-lines that were the Hwenti tribal marking. The males, Storm noticed, did indeed wear their hair no longer than shoulder-length, and none of them braided it.
"Look who's back," called the Avari in the lead, a she-elf with cherry-red hair a little lighter than Raven's, and bright blue eyes. She walked up to the trio—though Raven was taller than nearly any elf Storm had ever met, the top of her head reached his jaw, meaning she was more than a head taller than Storm—and the other elves fanned into a wide circle around them. The she-elf clapped Flint on the shoulder in greeting, then gave Storm a scrutinizing look. "Who's the stray?"
Storm reached up and lowered his hood. The she-elf gave a small gasp, and whispers ran through the elves around them.
The she-elf said something to Raven in the Avari tongue, which Storm had thought he understood until he realized it was meant to be spoken around three times as fast as he'd been practicing. He did, however, catch his mother's name—Miril. Raven grinned in response.
"Hello," Storm offered, hoping to switch the conversation to a language he understood.
"Hi," said Raven and Flint at the same time.
Storm rolled his eyes at them—he'd had a few weeks to get to know them, after all—and decided to introduce himself. "I'm Storm—yes, Rose's son—and you're Dawn, am I right? Raven's daughter?"
The she-elf folded her arms and looked down at him with obvious amusement. "I am. Also that one's mother." She indicated the half-human standing next to Storm. "What are you doing here, half-Silvan?"
"Actually, I—" He stopped and looked at her, then Flint, then Raven. "Wait, she's... are you two...?"
"Related? Yes." Flint's arms were folded as well, and he was refusing to look at Raven. "He'd apparently rather have a friend than a grandson."
Storm chuckled. "Really? Interesting."
Flint made a face at him.
Dawn cleared her throat. "You were saying?"
"He's having an identity crisis and wants to join us," Raven explained.
"Oh, really?"
Raven didn't give Storm a chance to interrupt. "Apparently his sister died and he'd never felt like he belonged anywhere anyway; it was a very sad story."
Storm started to protest, but thought better of it and just shook his head. The other Avari were watching him curiously, and he waved at them, then felt a shock go through him as he saw an impossibly familiar face.
"Silvan," Dawn prompted when Storm continued to stare—realizing the she-elf wasn't who he'd thought she was for that instant, but still amazed by the resemblance. "Pay attention, please."
"Sorry," said Storm. "So, what do you think? Mind if I tag along?"
She gave him another long, staring-into-his-soul look. "Rose never told you you're Avari, did she?"
Storm frowned. "Half-Avari, you mean? And no, as a matter of fact, she never mentioned it."
"There are no half-Avari, Storm. Homeland notwithstanding, your mother was part of the tribe and so are you."
Storm considered that for a moment. "Really? That's it?"
"That's it, though I wouldn't abuse the privilege if it were me. Welcome to the family." She turned and walked off in the direction the Avari had been going before, waving for the others to follow her. "Do try to keep up."
Storm remembered saying something similar to a group of Sindar many years before, and had the uncomfortable feeling this experience would be similar to theirs. He fell into step with the others, trying to decide who to talk to first.
Raven glanced back at him and appeared surprised and even offended to see him so close behind. "Oh—Storm, you can't walk there. Go to the back."
"Oops," said Storm, stopping to let the others pass him. Several snickered loudly or shook their heads in disapproval, though strangely, the latter group was mostly looking at Raven; Storm began to feel suspicious.
"Gullible one, aren't you?" remarked one she-elf, the one who'd caught Storm's attention before. "For future reference, anytime Raven says something seriously, he's playing a joke on you. You can walk wherever you want. And you," she scolded Raven, "had better be nice to my nephew."
He had an aunt?! But she did look so much like his mother, with the same black hair and build, though she was a little taller and her eyes were more lime-green than the rich shade that speckled Storm's irises.
Raven was grinning. "No promises, Winter."
Winter. Storm turned to face her as both began to walk again. "My mother never told me..."
"No? Oh, well, we only ever met once. She left before I was born." Winter shrugged, unbothered. "Tell me, is your hair like that naturally?"
He fingered the copper-and-black strands self-consciously, still not used to how they hung loose and ragged. "Yeah—I guess none of our relatives had something like this?"
She shook her head.
Someone clicked their tongue twice on Storm's other side—the polite Avari way to get attention—and two elves wove their way between the others, many of whom were still watching Storm, though waiting their turn. One of the elves was small and had blank, clouded eyes, while the she-elf who had a hand on his shoulder as if to guide him had bright silver hair, something never seen among Silvan elves and only rarely among Sindar and Noldor. "Welcome," said the first elf, smiling in Storm's general direction. "Sorry about Raven; he's always been like that."
"You're blind," Storm realized, waving his hand in front of the elf's face to make sure. The white-eyed elf's hand snapped up and grabbed his wrist, making him jump.
"He can also hear every move you make," said the she-elf cheerfully.
"Only the larger ones," the blind elf corrected, patting Storm's hand as if to apologize and then releasing it. "I'm Fox; this is my wife, Moon."
Storm nodded, then remembered Fox couldn't see him and said, "Well met."
Fox nudged his wife. "What's he look like? If you don't mind me asking," he added to Storm.
"Oh—it's fine."
"A lot like Shade," Moon noted, her eyes scanning over Storm much as Dawn's had not long before.
Shade. His grandfather, who'd led the Avari before Dawn. Flint had spoken about him in an almost reverent tone, in contrast to Raven, who'd insulted him multiple times. Knowing Raven even as little as Storm did, that probably meant they'd been good friends.
"His coloring's bizarre," Moon continued. "His hair's metallic copper—like his father's—streaked with black."
Storm hadn't realized his Silvan father had ever visited the Avari; he started to remark on this fact, but Winter shushed him.
"His eyes are a... freaky hazel? Little patches of medium wood-brown, mixed with green like Shade's."
"I remember," Fox said, nodding.
"In build, he's like Raven, but Winter's height. Big eyes, kinda straight eyebrows. Nose is straight but not pointy."
Storm was feeling mildly uncomfortable.
"He has the tribal mark, but his hair's cut terribly," Moon complained.
"You're being judgy again," Fox chided.
"Just trying to give a good description."
Storm tried to radiate offendedness at Moon, who smiled unapologetically. She knew exactly what she was doing, he decided. He cleared his throat. "So, Fox... if you don't mind me asking, what happened to your eyes?"
Raven answered for the blind elf, having drifted back to listen to their conversation after filling Dawn in. "He got a little too close to a dragon. Looked like a piece of meat someone dropped in the fire for a while."
Storm, remembering the shape Thranduil and especially Oropher had been in after their own encounter with a dragon, had a brief desire to throw up before he redirected his thoughts. "My brother-in-law had a similar experience, but his sight came back in that eye. Will yours...?"
"It's been several millennia," Raven said doubtfully, an odd note in his voice that resembled... guilt?
"It may someday," Fox told Storm without apparent concern; Storm wondered if there was something about Avari culture that made them shrug off insults and setbacks. Maybe it was just being around elves like Raven and Moon all the time. Come to think of it, Flint could be quite blunt as well, and Dawn seemed much the same. Perhaps they all developed thick skins after a while.
Raven said no more, and after a moment he trotted up to the front to join his daughter and Flint again. Storm had trouble thinking of Flint as Raven's grandson; they hardly looked alike, though that may have been the half-human's Easterling heritage, and they acted like old friends, constantly annoying and mocking each other. Related, them? Really?
"He's never forgiven himself," Fox murmured, his head turned toward where Raven had gone, though his glazed eyes weren't focused. "He got Shade—your grandfather, I guess—and I to sneak into that dragon's lair, and after... he wanted to put me out of my misery. Thought I wouldn't want to live like this, if I lived at all. Shade talked him out of it."
Moon didn't say anything, but her face communicated that she thought Raven deserved to live with the guilt.
"Do you regret it?" Storm asked.
"Going into that dragon's den? Of course, but it wasn't his fault; I had it coming for me, running around with those two. But if you mean living... No, never. I wouldn't give this up for the world." He gestured around him, and smiled at Moon, who kissed his forehead fondly. She was half a head taller than him, which Storm found interesting.
"I see you've met our resident optimist," said another she-elf, coming up beside them. This one's chocolate-brown hair was tied back, though not braided; she seemed to be the only one in the tribe who had it that way. She was tall, though not as tall as Dawn, and smelled of herbs.
"This is Star, our healer," said Moon. "She's the one you'll have to watch out for if you hurt yourself."
Storm noticed the wording of that. "...What?"
"Don't ask me," muttered Star. "I don't know who started this whole thing, but I suspect it was Raven." No one elaborated.
Storm filed that away for future reference.
. . . . . .
Raven, Flint, Dawn, Winter, Fox, Moon, and Star: those were the elves Storm spent the most time with.
Dawn led the Avari, though apparently only because she was the one who could get everyone to listen to her. No one had ever chosen her as leader; she filled that role because after Shade died, she was the one everyone looked to for guidance, and Storm could see why. She was like a hybrid of Lanthirel and Oropher, with the ambition and charisma of the former king combined with Storm's almost-mother-in-law's deep understanding of others. She both directed the tribe's efforts and kept the peace, made sure they all had what they needed and pushed every elf to do their part. As a side effect, she was unendingly bossy, but Storm liked her all the same.
It was strange that she'd married a human. Though Flint's father had died not long before, Dawn showed none of the signs of grief, though her smile was bittersweet when Storm finally asked about it.
. . . . . .
"I knew Amar wouldn't live for more than a fraction of my life," Dawn told Storm as they sat by one of the campfires one night; the leader didn't get her own place in the camp, of course, but she usually ended up near the center of the camp like tonight. "But I accepted that, and we spent those few years well. I don't regret it."
Storm tried to imagine marrying someone while knowing she would grow frail and die in only a few short decades. He couldn't. "Was he much like Flint?"
Dawn chuckled. "No, not at all. He was quite a sweet man, actually, and very gentle. That was why he deserted his army; they were commanded to take taxes forcibly from the common folk, and after a while, he got fed up and ran off."
"How did you meet him?" Storm wondered. Their tribe, the Hwenti, were on the western side of the Avari territories, and the human should have encountered one of the other tribes first.
"At a tribal meeting. The Kindi have a habit of taking in stray humans, and they brought him along... I was curious and got to talking with him, and then went back with the Kindi to their range."
"You can do that?"
"Of course—most of us spend a few years with other tribes at some time or another. Anyway, after a few months, I came back and brought him with me. Flint was born five years later."
"You... got married after less than five years?"
"You have to with humans, Storm. They don't last long."
"...Oh. I guess so."
"We were lucky; sometimes it takes decades to have a baby with a human, when the mother is the elf. Flint was the only one we ever got." She smiled as her son, with convenient timing, joined them with an armful of firewood, Raven right behind him.
"That's different than what I'm used to," said Storm. His romance with Silana had lasted about five years, but it had only been on the brink of becoming serious. Even the Sindar, who'd often married younger in Doriath, would've at least known each other for a decade first.
"A lot of things are around here, Silvan."
. . . . . .
Flint was unendingly fascinating to Storm. There were a few other half- or quarter-humans in the tribe, actually, but none of them had Flint's strange olive-tan skin tone, or his grumpy personality.
The half-Easterling was younger than Storm had guessed, only a couple of centuries old, which maybe explained the large chip on his shoulder about his heritage. He always seemed to be accusing the others of thinking he was weaker because of his human blood, though comments in that direction usually earned him a good smack from Dawn or Raven, or anyone else who was standing close enough. The Avari weren't averse to violent physical contact, Storm noticed.
Storm, who'd gone adventuring with humans multiple times in his life, had so many questions about his new companion. Unfortunately, Flint didn't appreciate being poked and prodded, but that hardly stopped Storm from testing and observing whenever possible.
A half-human, it seemed, was similar to a full elf in most ways, but the human blood showed as well. Flint was clearly part human on the outside, face showing both elven and human influences and ears more curved than a human's but rounded at the tips, and with more obvious muscles than an elf of the same fitness level; elven muscles were smaller even at peak strength, which helped to keep them slender and agile. Oddly enough, the combination seemed to make Flint noticeably stronger than an elf of his size should have been, but Storm was told that was the case with many half-humans.
In most physical ways, as well, Flint was somewhere between elf and human. His sight and hearing weren't as sharp as an elf's, but still better than a human's; his balance wasn't quite at elven levels, either, but still good enough to wrestle Storm out of a tree after the Silvan elf laughed at him for slipping on ice. He hated snow because he sunk into it just enough for the others to track him everywhere he went, and though cold wasn't all that dangerous to him, he wore warmer clothes during the winter. (Flint wasn't too fond of winter in general.) His eyes drifted half-shut when he slept, and sometimes he even fell completely unconscious the way elves didn't unless they were injured or completely exhausted. He was one of the fastest runners in the tribe, but he got that from Raven and Dawn; Raven, Storm was pretty sure, could've outpaced any Greenwood scout.
Honestly, though, Flint was just as entertaining personality-wise. He reminded Storm of Thranduil in some ways, with all the sarcasm and pessimistic comments, but also had elements of Raven, once Storm knew to look. He loved to complain, but always did his share of the tribe's work, and though he tried to pretend Raven annoyed him to death, he always seemed to be wherever his grandfather was. He didn't talk about his father as much as Dawn did, but Storm could tell the early loss had hardened Flint as his own parents' death had done to him.
All in all, Storm greatly enjoyed Flint's company, especially when he needed to annoy someone into teaching him the ways of the tribe.
. . . . . .
"No."
Storm stared at his hands, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. "Like this, then?" He wiggled the fingers of one hand within the cage formed by the other.
"Not unless you're trying to say you have a bowl of worms."
"I swear she did something like this... Why do you even have a sign for a bowl of worms?!"
"We don't; that's just what it looked like." Flint sighed, his disappointment in Storm greatly evident.
Storm made a face at him. "Just because my Nana only taught me a few signs..."
Flint ignored him.
Storm rolled his eyes now that Flint wasn't looking at him; he couldn't tell if Flint actually didn't like him or if he was trying to keep up appearances. Everyone else seemed to expect him to act like this, so Storm did the same. "Great, so what does it actually mean?"
"That depends. If you mean this—" He made a sign that looked exactly like what Storm had just done. "—then it means to catch a creature in some kind of container or net."
"Ah. Thanks."
Flint eyed him, but said nothing. His body language indicated he wanted Storm to get out of the tree he'd chosen to skin the rabbits he and Raven had caught earlier.
Storm decided to ask the obvious question in case it did any good. "So do you not like me, or..."
"Not really, no."
"Ouch. I'm deeply hurt. Any particular reason?"
"Hmm. It couldn't possibly be because you've been treating me like some animal to run experiments on, could it? It's not exactly a mystery."
"Oh."
"I thought you might understand, since you're an outsider too. I guess not."
Storm shook his head. "You're not an outsider here, Flint."
"Like you weren't in Greenwood?"
Storm had been ready to present his reasons, but... Flint wasn't wrong. Granted, Storm's problem had been more the opposite—he'd known the others accepted him, but he'd never been content somehow. Some deep part of him hadn't fit in.
That part of him was silent now, but was it because he'd found where he was supposed to be, or because he was tired of looking? He wasn't sure.
"You're right," he murmured.
Flint appeared positively shocked. "What?"
"I said you're right. I could never accept my place in the world for what it was, and I... I lost..." Love? Given that the thought of Silana still awoke a painful throbbing in his chest, maybe so.
Flint waited, but when Storm didn't finish, he went back to cleaning the rabbit pelts. "And let me guess, you don't want me to make the same mistake."
Storm's laugh held a hint of bitterness. "Nah, I don't know what I'm doing, so..."
Flint pressed his lips together. "At least you're honest."
"Any advice?"
"Go home."
"You're blunt."
"You don't say."
"Eh, you'll warm up to me eventually." Storm clapped Flint on the shoulder and hopped off the branch—in such a tiny tree as the ones out here, he could drop straight to the ground without any climbing. "I do have some advice, actually. You're too young to be so grumpy."
"I disagree with that, and your other comment." But the corner of the half-human's mouth tipped up.
. . . . . .
Flint didn't mince words, that was for sure, Storm thought as he watched the Avari camp from his rock perch. It was a sunny day, and since Dawn was nowhere to be seen, he felt too lazy to seek her out.
Flint wasn't the only one around here who said exactly what he thought; the Avari as a group were quite, er, truthful, which reminded Storm of his mother and sister both, suspiciously. Raven was no exception to the rule, except as related to himself. Somehow, though Storm learned all sorts of things from him about the Avari, the Silvan elf only learned fragments of Raven's past at first. He'd faced a dragon once, the one that blinded Fox... he was older than many, perhaps most of the others, older than Storm's grandfather... the trees called him simply Singer. And wow, could Raven sing. He often led the singing around the campfire in the evenings, and sometimes Storm heard his voice at night, haunting wordless songs... The Silvan elves didn't have a strong vocal tradition, and Storm had never before understood the tales of song being used as a weapon, or a shield against evil.
Storm should have asked what he was wondering earlier, but somehow he never got around to it, with all his other questions. It was a year before the night came when he began to understand Raven...
. . . . . .
It was a beautiful night, early autumn, with a soft breeze rustling through the patches of woodland and whistling in the fields between. The stars shone bright above Storm, unhidden by clouds or moonlight.
Storm yawned. He'd wandered off to enjoy the night for a bit before going to sleep, but it was about time to go back to the camp; he'd had a busy day, chasing an isolated orc band with Raven and Flint, who were extraordinarily hard to keep up with. He hadn't actually gotten any; Raven was almost as good an archer as he was, and it turned out the older elf really, really, really hated orcs. Storm didn't want to know why he and Flint had caught up to find Raven covered in blood that definitely didn't come from an elf.
Click.
Storm almost jumped out of his boots, still not used to the Avari greeting—one click was only meant to announce one's presence, but he didn't have it in his head as a safe sound yet. He had to squint to pick out the newcomer in the darkness.
"Evening," Raven murmured, emerging from the shadows with his head tilted up toward the sky. "Enjoying the stars?"
"Silvan elves have a soft spot for them," Storm whispered, keeping his voice down for no reason other than that Raven was doing so. "The sun and moon are new to the world, but the stars have watched over us forever."
"You have no idea, elfling. The sun's an abomination, I tell you."
Storm had already figured Raven was older than the sun; that only made him a little older than Thranduil. "Elfling? Excuse me, I'm past three thousand now."
"Ha! As I said." Raven chuckled patronizingly. "Three thousand, hmm?"
"What, how old are you?"
"Older than you." Raven grinned in the darkness and took off running without warning. "Come on!"
Storm ran after him, his many years of practice running around in the dark the only thing keeping him from falling on his face as they skimmed over rocks and roots and logs and streams. Raven had no qualms about leaping and skidding in the darkness; this was an elf who didn't need any light besides that of the stars, and Storm was sure he could get along fine without even that.
Raven finally came to a stop at the top of a grassy hill and turned back, laughing as Storm stumbled to a stop, gasping for breath. "Look!"
Storm looked, and saw little except silver points of light above and dark shapes below. Still, the darkened landscape was beautiful in its simplicity, and he managed an appreciative nod as he waited for his heart to stop pounding.
Raven sang something, his voice steady and full despite their mad dash through the night. There were words for some of it, but Storm could only understand bits here and there. They were simple words in a complex tune, but strange words... some from Silvan, some Sindarin, some Quenya, some Avari. But all changed a little...
No, not changed, Storm realized with a start. These were the first words, from the old Mother Language, the tongue that had become all the other forms of elvish. But that meant...
"You're one of the First," he breathed.
Raven stopped singing and looked down at him. "You hadn't realized?"
"No... is that why you're so..." Storm placed his palm against the top of his head, then moved it upward to Raven's height.
"Nope. Just tall."
"Really? ...What was it like?"
"What? Oh, the beginning? Lots of scuffling over who was in charge; not nearly as simple as in the stories."
"I mean before that. Did you just... wake up?"
"Yep."
Storm motioned for him to continue, assuming Raven could see him in the darkness.
"I don't know, we woke up watching the stars and then... er, wandered around until we found other pairs, and sat around for a while trying to decide what we even were and what we could eat and so on... and after a few... weeks, I guess, you-know-who came along... Tata always tried to keep 'his' elves together in a nice little herd after that. Such a territorial elf, I tell you."
"'We'? You and your wife, you mean?"
Raven fell silent, and after a few seconds, Storm looked over and realized he was gone. "Raven? ...Raven!"
But there was no answer. Storm waited a while and then, with a sigh, turned back for the camp; he hadn't expected many elves to still be awake by the time he got back, but he found Fox and Moon talking by their campfire. He joined them, hoping he wasn't interrupting anything two romantic.
Though Storm thought he was moving quietly, Fox's head turned toward him when he was still several steps away. "Hello?"
"Hello, Fox."
"Ah, Storm. Good evening."
"Right—Fox, Raven's first-generation?!"
"No one told you? Yeah, there're a few of them left."
"Wow."
Fox and Moon shrugged. They'd grown up around Raven, Storm supposed; to them, he wasn't a relic of the past to them so much as an annoying friend. "You've never met a first-generation elf before?" Moon asked.
"I think there's one pair still living in Greenwood." Storm was distracted, trying to remember—he thought Taensirion might be second-generation, which would make the Sinda's parents two of the first 144, but he couldn't remember for sure. Taensirion's parents were long gone from Middle-Earth, anyway. "One more thing..."
"Spit it out," Moon prompted.
"...What happened to Raven's wife?"
Both Avari cringed. "Should we tell him?" Fox asked Moon.
"I guess we'd better." Moon turned to Storm and folded her hands in her lap. "You know how the first orcs were created?"
It took Storm a moment, and then his jaw dropped. "She—"
"No."
"No?" Some of the tension melted from Storm's muscles; he'd wondered for a moment if some of the orcs he'd killed... he didn't want to think about that.
"That monster..." Fox's jaw clenched for a moment before he went on. "He let some of them go."
Storm didn't understand.
"They'd gone mad," Moon told him. "Like rabid beasts."
"Their conscience, ability to love and trust... gone," said Fox.
Moon was staring at the dying flames. "Ember was the first. She..."
Fox squeezed her hand. "She killed a she-elf named Mist. Moon's mother."
Moon bit her lip and leaned into her husband.
Storm had to know. "What happened to her?"
"...well..."
"Should I ask someone else?"
"No, no..." Fox wrapped an arm around Moon and said, "Your mother shot her through the head."
Storm's eyes nearly popped out in his head. His mother had KILLED Raven's wife?!
Fox coughed. "Yeah."
"I... should I be worried?" was the only thing Storm could think of to say.
"Nah. We weren't sure what to expect when she brought your father back to meet the tribe, but if he could stay friends with Shade... And she and Dawn were best friends growing up, though not... not so much afterward."
"Oh..."
"Yeah."
. . . . . .
Storm was a little afraid to talk to Raven after that, though the ancient elf really didn't seem to bear any ill will toward him. He tried to bring up the subject a few times, but quickly discovered that bringing up Raven's wife only caused Raven to turn around and walk away, and Storm eventually gave up.
Fox and Moon, on the other hand, were happy to talk about anything and everything; Moon, in fact, was one of the worst tribe gossips, and Storm quickly learned to be careful what he said within her hearing. Fox was better, but anything interesting he learned might still be passed on to Moon.
Storm spent much of his first few months trying to figure out what Fox's role was in the tribe; while the blind elf made himself useful in whatever way he could, he couldn't gather food or keep watch, and someone had to be with him as often as possible to make sure he didn't harm himself by accident. Surprisingly, Fox was actually quite good at finding his way around—he'd even learned to sense nearby objects by clicking like a bat, which Storm didn't believe until he saw it. And yet, Fox constantly smacked into things anyway, often because he was too busy talking to pay attention to where he was going.
. . . . . .
"What's this way?"
"A pond," said Storm after a brief glance up from the roots he was helping Moon dig up. Fox was theoretically supposed to be helping, but most of the remaining roots were under a bush and required some wriggling between thorny branches to reach, which was inconvenient when one couldn't see the branches.
"Great." Fox started in that direction, clicking now and then but still tripping over some of the bushes.
Moon glanced up. "You want to go with him, Storm, or should I?"
"Uh... I'll go." Storm left his bag of roots there and trotted after Fox, not being quite sure what his job was here, but figuring it had something to do with keeping the blind elf out of danger. "You're still walking toward the pond," he told Fox.
"I know." Fox continued in that direction without concern. Storm jumped forward to interfere, but too late.
SPLASH.
"Storm!" came Moon's scolding yell from behind them.
"I'm sorry—!" Storm scrambled to help Fox as he climbed out of the pond, spitting out water.
"Oh," said Fox. "It's one of those ponds with a drop at the edge."
Storm cleared his throat. "Sorry. My fault."
Fox shrugged and got up, then started in what seemed to Storm like a random direction. "Anything dangerous this way?"
"No."
Fox tripped over a bush and fell onto his hands and knees with a yelp.
"Sorry!" Storm cried out, helping the other elf up again. "I'm bad at this, aren't I?"
Fox shrugged. "Sometimes Raven lets me crash into everything and he laughs."
Storm supposed that would lower one's standards. He put a hand on Fox's shoulder and carefully guided him around the next bush. "Where are we going?"
"This way," said Fox.
"What's this way?"
"You tell me."
"Um... There are a lot of bushes, and a hill. Some trees if we go far enough."
"Perfect. So, how're you liking the tribe?"
"It's fascinating. You're all so self-sufficient as a group, but so interconnected; you don't need laws because you all know each other so well. It reminds me of Greenwood in the old days, but more so."
"You sound just like Shade."
"The one downside is that everyone keeps comparing me to my grandfather whom I never met," Storm said, rolling his eyes in pretend exasperation.
"Get used to that."
Storm hid his smirk. "You knew him pretty well, didn't you? What was he like?"
"You." Fox stumbled but kept his footing, and Storm refocused his attention on where they were walking. "Ambitious in all the right ways, clever, mischievous, the sort to notice the elves no one else did. I hear they nicknamed him Silver-Tongue when he was younger."
"Wow, thanks."
"I said he was like you, not exactly the same." But Fox winked to lessen the blow. "He was second-generation, one of the first elflings, apparently; that was before my time, of course. First one to marry into another group, too."
"Which group?"
"Vanyar."
In his surprise, Storm almost tripped over a bush of his own. "I'm part Vanyar?" He'd been taught that all of them—said to be golden-haired and blue-eyed to an elf—had left for Valinor long ago.
"Yeah?" Fox turned his head in Storm's direction as though he could see him. "How do you ask so many questions and not know so much? But yes. Summer died not too long after Shade did, hunting down orcs... She got a bit reckless after she snuck into Greenwood and found out your parents had been killed."
"I didn't realize anyone ever checked up on us." Wait... could she have been... "How did Shade die?"
"He distracted orcs who were after an elfling, and broke his neck struggling when they caught him."
"Broke his neck? Sound like something Sky would've done."
"We knew what happened if those monsters took us. He was the last one to—" Fox yelped and fell on his face. "Oof. That was a rabbit hole, wasn't it?"
"Why don't you hold a stick in front of you or something?" Storm wondered as he helped the blind elf up again. "To make sure there's nothing there?"
Fox grinned. "Too slow. Plus, if I'm being honest, I like scaring the rest of you."
Storm raised an eyebrow. "You're crazier than my sister."
"You'd know better than I would. I'm just making the best of what I've got."
. . . . . .
A Vanya grandmother who'd checked on them now and then until she was killed... that explained Sky's imaginary friend when she was an elfling, the existence of whom she'd continued to insist on well into adulthood despite the unlikeliness of a Silvan she-elf having golden hair of the shade Sky described, never mind skin with a soft gold tint. Storm wondered why Summer had never showed herself to him if she'd been around so often for the year or so little Sky talked about her, but he could only wonder if it had something to do with how his mother had apparently tried to keep her distance from the Avari, only bringing Storm's father to see them once and never telling Storm about his heritage.
"I wouldn't've minded having her back," Raven had said when he asked. "But she was skittish around us even when she did come, and after Shade died, only Summer ever went to visit."
"Nana thought she still felt guilty about Ember," Winter added, "and that once you came along, she was afraid you'd leave her for us. She said your Ada wanted to tell you, but your Nana wanted to wait until you were older."
Storm, for his part, remembered noticing that his mother never quite fit in with the Silvan elves. There'd been an edge of nervousness to her as well, an alertness that she'd partly passed to him and Sky, as if she were used to being hunted; he saw the same thing in the Avari now, how they were startled a little too easily and paused to listen every so often, checking for danger. There really was a bit of wildness about them.
There'd been something his mother had promised to tell him, too, once his sister was born; he'd all but forgotten it after his parents' deaths, but he remembered wondering what it was. She'd planned to tell him eventually, but she'd wanted to wait. To keep the idea out of his head as long as she could.
He figured it out one night, as he lay half-awake thinking about it. Her last memory of the wilderness was of a she-elf she'd known since birth, wife to her father's best friend, vanishing for months and returning insane from torture. Like a rabid beast, Moon had said... She would've kept hearing about elves disappearing, though gradually less and less, and finally her own father would die resisting similar capture. She'd been terrified he'd join up with the Avari and be taken by Morgoth, to become an orc.
But such things didn't happen in Greenwood, and so he'd been safe there.
That train of thought led Storm to thinking about the aunt he'd never known he had. Winter wasn't nearly as quirky as his mother had been; she was more the quiet but curious type, though she could be sassy sometimes (especially where Raven was concerned). She was a scientist, in her own way, but instead of trying to run experiments on elves like Tairen or King Amdir (or Storm), she was happy sticking to what she could observe. When it came to elven traits, of course, that meant asking questions.
. . . . . .
"It's as if you're made of both parents squished together," Winter remarked, looking closely at a lock of Storm's strangely patterned hair. "I've never seen anything like it."
Storm resisted the urge to sigh.
"See, this's what it feels like to be me," said Flint on their other side. The three were scouting out a good spot for the tribe's next camp, and also keeping an eye out for orcs, but they'd settled on a windy hilltop for their lunch break.
Storm flinched as the moving air threw his loose hair into his face yet again; his hair wasn't long enough to get tangled in most things, but he was starting to think of it as a sentient thing that took pleasure in getting in his eyes or, even worse, his mouth. Why did the Avari insist on wearing it loose?
Flint stalked away when neither of the others acknowledged his comment and stood looking out at the grassland.
"I think I've figured out why he doesn't like you," Storm commented too quietly for the half-human to hear. The joke was that Flint's hatred of all things wintery extended to elves with a certain name, but he could connect Flint's opinion on having his human traits commented on with Winter's inclination to think out loud about the interesting traits of anything she came into contact with. The glare Flint had given his mother when she told Winter to take "my son and the Silvan" scouting had been pretty impressive.
"I've told him sorry," Winter said in amusement, with no real guilt in her voice. Storm chuckled. He'd tried to stop experimenting on Flint so much (there were other half-humans to pester, after all), but he was pretty sure by now that Flint liked holding grudges.
Storm watched Flint for a minute, and sure enough, it didn't take long for the half-Easterling to look back at them to see if they'd noticed his pouting yet. Storm grinned at him.
Flint stuck his tongue out at the Silvan elf and turned around again, making Storm grin even wider.
"I didn't ever understand why she'd stay in Greenwood," Winter mused after a bit. She'd finished playing with Storm's hair (finally) and gone back to eating her smoked-meat-and-flatbread sandwich, leaning back against Storm like he was a conveniently placed tree; the Avari had a lower regard for personal space that Storm was still getting used to. Of course, there were some—*cough* Flint *cough*—that wasn't so true of.
"Who? My mother?"
"Yeah. Why would she leave everything she'd ever known? The thing with Ember... we all understood. Even Raven, I think, by the time she came back."
Storm had been thinking about that too. "I don't think my father would've liked it out here... He was like Sky; Greenwood—the trees, the elves, they were part of him. He liked to take me exploring outside the forest, but I don't think he ever considered leaving for good."
"That's what Ada thought."
"Did you ever—ack!" Storm coughed as a gust blew his hair into his mouth. He tucked the strands behind his ear, then tried again. "You met my father, didn't you?"
"Aladas? Yeah, when your mother brought him to visit; I was barely more than an elfling, but I think he talked to me more than she did."
"He talked more than she did in general."
"I guess that's true." Winter grinned. "He seemed... very brave."
"Brave?" Storm supposed his father had been, but he'd never really thought of him that way.
"I don't know... he was this little Silvan elf, so civilized, facing the whole tribe... we could tell he was terrified, but he got over it quickly. He even challenged Raven to an archery competition. Beat him soundly three times, I'm told—Nana still teases him about it sometimes."
Storm wasn't surprised; his father had been the best archer in Greenwood until Sky came along. He'd had to stop entering tournaments to give the other elves a chance. "Did he know Nana killed Ember?"
"I don't know. I guess probably not, but Raven was still grieving pretty hard then."
Storm was still amazed Raven had been able to forgive the family of the she-elf who'd killed his wife.
. . . . . .
And finally, there was Star. She was the only healer—apparently some tribes had several, but the Hwentis' other one had died years ago—and, perhaps because of that, had the air of a tired mother around her. She had a special place in the tribe, and strangely, even Raven had a healthy respect for her. Storm learned why after his second orc-hunting expedition with Raven and Flint.
. . . . . .
"Ouch—"
"I'm not impressed," Flint commented, crossing his arms and sending a disappointed frown at Storm. "Those big flashy swords aren't doing you much good."
"Pitiful," Raven agreed. "Zero out of ten."
Storm slashed the throat of the last of the three orcs he'd been fighting and held out his arms to indicate the other thirty-something orc corpses around him. "Did you not see me win against thirty-to-one odds in a few minutes? That was brilliant swordplay!"
Raven yawned.
Storm snorted and pulled a small roll of bandages out of his pocket to bind the cut on his shoulder. "Sure. Just let me know when you're ready to learn to fight with real weapons."
"Dagger and bow work fine for me," said Raven.
After seeing the results of the ancient elf's handiwork last time, Storm couldn't disagree.
. . . . . .
"You all right, Silvan?"
"Yeah, just this stupid cut won't stop bleeding..." Storm twisted, trying to see the wound better as they walked.
Dawn grinned in a way that Storm found rather concerning. "Think you should let Star look at it?"
"Nah, it's not that bad..." Storm trailed off, eyeing Flint and Raven, who were snickering.
"Should we?" Raven asked Flint, who gave him an evil smile. "Hey, Star!" he called across the camp. "Storm's hurt!"
"Of course he is." The healer picked up her pack and trotted over from where she'd been helping make dinner. "All right, Silvan, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."
Flint nudged him. "Want some advice? Run."
"Run for your life," Raven agreed.
"I don't trust either of you," said Storm, but he didn't miss how Star was stalking forward like a hunting cat.
"Come here, Storm," Star growled. "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."
"This should be funny," Raven said to Flint.
Fox wandered over with Moon guiding him. "What's going on?"
"Storm's shoulder's bleeding, and Star's about to pounce on him. I think he's gonna run for it."
"Don't," said Fox. "Running only delays it."
Storm spared him an alarmed glance. "Delays what?" What was Star going to do, tackle him?! He got an idea. "So, Flint, are you going to show her your cut?"
Flint's eyes went wide.
Raven, displaying his normal eagerness to betray his friends, joined in on the fun. "Yeah, Flint. Gonna pretend you're not hurt worse?"
"I'm not—" But Flint tensed to run despite his "innocence".
It happened too fast for Storm to see; one instant Star was turning toward Flint, and the next she had him pinned to the ground on his stomach and was checking for wounds with touches that seemed too quick and light to catch any problems. She was done after only a few moments.
"You liar," Flint muttered at Raven when the healer let him up with a sigh.
Star turned toward Storm again. He probably should've stayed and submitted to her attentions, but he wasn't about to give Raven the satisfaction of seeing him knocked down like that if the so-called healer didn't decide to be gentler; plus, he wasn't faster than Flint, but he was farther away.
He made it two steps before Star's weight hit him in the back and his legs were knocked out sideways from under him, sending him crashing down; somehow his injured shoulder was the only part of him that didn't hit the ground hard. He tried to struggle, but found he couldn't move an inch.
"I should've known you'd pick up that stupid game quickly," Star muttered. "Really, if our patients didn't try to run away, we wouldn't have to catch them and everyone would be happy."
"Healers are supposed to be nice," Storm muttered into the dirt.
. . . . . .
Thinking about it now, Storm chuckled. It was a game among the Avari to try to escape from the healer, one Star didn't appreciate much but everyone else continued because those who didn't run were teased mercilessly. It was a very stupid game, yes, but almost all of them did it anyway.
"What, did you get lost?"
Storm hopped down from his rock to join Raven. "Just thinking. Nice morning, isn't it?"
Raven glanced up at the clear blue sky and nodded. After that, neither of them spoke as they walked down toward the camp; Storm mused that he liked the wide-open sky and mixed woodland-grassland-hill terrain more than he'd expected, now that he was getting used to it.
"Good morning, Storm," Star called as they walked into the camp. "Hi, Raven."
They waved at her.
Storm tapped Fox's shoulder as he walked past, making the blind elf jump. "Morning, Fox. Morning, Moon."
"Hi, Storm. Sleep well?"
"Yeah." Storm politely declined Fox's offer to join them for breakfast and walked on; he'd already eaten, since he was stubbornly sticking to his habit of avoiding set mealtimes. This often meant hiding food in his pack, where it sometimes managed to not get stolen by his "friends".
Raven walked over to where Flint still lay bundled up in his cloak and gave the half-human a not-too-gentle kick, earning himself a loud groan. It was probably kind of chilly by human standards, now that Storm thought about it, though the frost was melting quickly.
"Go AWAY, Raven," Flint snapped grouchily. "I'll get up when I'm ready."
Storm got Winter's attention and motioned (partly through sign language) for her to toss him a piece of hot bread, which he then held out for Flint. The half-human took it hesitantly, seeming to expect Storm to pull it away. Admittedly, it was tempting to hold it just out of his reach until he had to get up.
"There you are, Silvan."
"Hi, Dawn—you wanted to talk to me?"
"I do. You've eaten?"
Storm nodded.
"C'mon, then. Bring your bow; we'll hunt while we talk."
Storm grabbed his bow and quiver and followed Dawn out of the camp, breaking into a run and heading back up the hill; she spoke as they jogged down the other side. "You like it here?"
"I do. Especially the sense of community, and the freedom."
"You feel like you belong?" Dawn vaulted over a particularly large rock; Storm jumped on top of it and did a flip off, just because.
"As well as I could expect after such a short time; why?"
Dawn glanced back at him, and he sped up so they were running side-by-side. He had to take more strides to keep up with her long legs, but his endurance was up to the task, especially after running around with Flint and Raven so much. "Why did you leave Greenwood, Storm?"
"I told you. I never figured out my place, and after Sky died, I didn't want to stay."
"Hmm. Try again."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Storm thought for a bit, and Dawn let him. For a few minutes, the loudest sound was their steady, even breaths, punctuated by the occasional birdcall. "I could never quite figure out what to do with myself there. Before the Sindar came, sure, I was the protector of the forest, the one who hunted all the orcs before they could hurt anyone. Just like my parents before me. But after... they didn't seem to need me. Sure, I became a captain eventually and led patrols, but plenty of elves could do that. There were soldiers to fight the orcs, judges to settle disputes... even with my friends, once Sky got married, and then Felrion and Kilvara... no one needed me anymore."
"What else?"
She was looking for a specific answer, he realized. "I..."
"I think you know what it is, even if you haven't admitted it to yourself. Say it."
He turned his head, preferring to look at the horizon rather than her. Yes, he knew. "I run away from my problems. I did it the first time Sky really got hurt, I did it when Oropher died and Sky and Thranduil needed me, and I did it when Sky died. I knew I shouldn't, but I didn't want to face it."
"You didn't run away after your parents died."
"I couldn't. Sky needed me."
"You were needed after your sister died."
"I know. I should've stayed for Legolas, and for Silana, and for Felrion and Kilvara... but... Thranduil wasn't wrong. It was my fault partly, and I couldn't stop seeing her... like that. All torn and bloody." Storm had to clear his throat even though he was breathing hard from running. "And there was a part of me that was happy because now I didn't have anything to tie me down. I hated it, but it was there."
"You admit you should've stayed?"
"Yes."
"Then why not go back now?"
He was speechless for a moment even though he'd asked himself that same question often. "Because... the betrayal's done. I can't fix it. Legolas will be full-grown in a couple of years; he'd love to have me there, sure, but I'm not part of his life, not really. Silana made it clear that whatever happened between us was over the day I walked away. When I visited Felrion and Kilvara, it was almost like talking to strangers. Elves I used to be friends with. I wasn't there for them when they grieved. Thranduil won't forgive me anytime soon, that I'm sure of. And Sky's gone. Greenwood was her forest, and every tree reminds me of her. There's nothing for me there."
"You could rebuild those relationships."
"Maybe some... partly. If I had it in me. If I could stand being there for more than a few weeks." He swallowed hard, realizing they'd slowed to a walk. "I messed up."
"You did. Did you learn from it?"
He looked up at the Avari leader. "Yes. Yes, and I've sworn to myself so many times since that I'll never do it again."
"I hope not; we don't need a tribe member who'll take off as soon as the going gets rough."
"I won't."
"I believe you. You stayed to raise your sister; you've got it in you somewhere." Dawn began to run again. "Now use those hunting skills to help catch dinner."
They shot two plump deer, a stag and a doe, and carrying them back took the better part of the day. Dawn drilled Storm to see how much of the Avari spoken and sign languages he'd learned, and finally gave a nod of approval just as Storm was about to give up on ever impressing her.
"My mother ran away, too," he said when they were almost back at the camp.
Dawn didn't seem surprised that he'd brought up that topic. "She did. What you've described is almost exactly what she told me, but backwards."
"She never quite adjusted to Greenwood. Now that I know the whole story, I think she might've come back if she hadn't been afraid to."
"Maybe, if your father learned to like it out here. But don't worry, I don't think you'll have that problem; you fit in well. Ada likes you, Fox and Moon have almost adopted you, and even Flint's getting kind of fond of you."
"Not that you'd know from watching him."
Dawn laughed. "No."
They were at the camp now, and Storm went to see if he could find food somewhere; Dawn had scavenged lunch from the wilderness, but he hadn't bothered. Amid the greetings—Winter punching him in the shoulder before going to help skin the two deer, Flint and Raven pausing in their wrestling to throw a pinecone and a friendly insult at him, respectively—Storm looked around and thought to himself that, yes, he could learn to belong here.
Home, he thought to himself. What a beautiful word.
. . . . . .
Raven joined Dawn in watching their newest tribe member from the edge of the camp. "You've got plans for him already, don't you?"
"I had plans from the day you brought him back," she replied with a wink. "He really is a lot like Shade... Earnest and idealistic, but observant and charismatic and clever. A natural leader, only this one doesn't quite know it."
Raven grinned as well. "He doesn't have a direction for his ambition... yet."
"We can fix that, Ada. We can fix that."
For more on what happened to Raven's wife, see my story "Twisted". It's quite short, don't worry. A bit traumatic, though.
Summary of Avari characters:
Raven: Dawn's father, one of the first 144 elves. Deep red hair (cut to shoulder-length as with all male Avari, and with a slight wave to it), dark blue-gray eyes, taller than all my other characters, otherwise fairly typical elven build. Full Noldo. Snarky and independent, a good tracker, and not someone whose bad side you want to get on. Wife was corrupted by Morgoth long ago.
Dawn: Raven's daughter, Flint's mother; leader of the Hwenti Avari tribe. Bright red hair (long and slightly wavy), bright blue eyes, around Thranduil's height-ish. Full Noldo. Bossy but insightful, more or less a cross between Oropher and Lanthirel. Also not someone whose bad side you want to get on.
Flint: Dawn's son. Black hair (shoulder-length and slightly wavy), dark brown eyes, around Storm's height (somewhere between normal Silvan and Sinda heights), more muscular than a typical elf, vaguely Middle-Eastern in appearance with dusky skin color. Half Noldo elf, half Easterling human. Grumpy, sarcastic, and strangely lovable. Still very young, not that he'll ever admit it.
Fox: Avari tribe member, Moon's husband. Black hair (shoulder-length and straight), cloudy white eyes due to lingering injury from a dragon encounter many centuries ago, quite short. Mix of Sinda and Silvan. Friendly, optimistic, and adventurous despite being blind; may be part Golden Retriever.
Moon: Avari tribe member, Fox's wife. Silver hair (long and maybe a teeny bit wavy from Noldorin ancestry), light blue eyes, medium height. Mix of Noldo, Sinda, and Silvan. Gossipy, adventurous, and fiercely protective of Fox.
Winter: Avari tribe member, Storm's aunt (Storm's mom's sister). Black hair (long and straight), large light green eyes, somewhere closeish to Storm's height. Half Sinda, half Vanya. Quiet, curious, and sometimes a bit shy.
Star: Avari healer. Medium-darkish brown hair (straight and often tied back), brown eyes (I guess), fairly tall and long-limbed. Mix of Sinda, Noldo, and Silvan. Life goal is to keep everyone alive; fed up with everything Raven-related, but secretly enjoys tackling those who don't behave themselves when injured.
Shade (dead): Former Hwenti tribe leader, Rose and Winter's father, Storm and Sky's grandfather. Sinda with black hair and bright green eyes.
Summer (dead): Shade's wife, Rose and Winter's mother, Storm and Sky's grandmother. Vanya with golden hair and blue eyes. One of three Vanyar to stay with the Avari; the other two were her brothers, one of whom we'll meet later (spoilers).
.
And Sky and Storm's parents:
Aladas: Silvan elf with copper hair and wood-brown eyes. Friendly and laid-back, but a very good archer. Raised in Greenwood.
Rose (Miril): Sinda/Vanya with black hair and bright green eyes. Adventurous and clever but a bit traumatized by a certain event that caused her to leave the Avari.