Although he'd been up before the sun, Donel dragged his feet on the way to the stable, he spent the first few hours of this wonderful morning walking old familiar streets. He was an orphan, but he considered the village of Highcliff his home. The orphanage, located just east of the waterfront, was his home as far back as he could remember.

He stood with his cap in hand, looking down into the burned out cellar-hole of the house where he grew up. This more than anything else reminded him that, sadly, he could never return home; Everyone was gone. He certainly hoped no-one was killed when the orphanage caught fire. Well, Aelicia is waiting in Neverwinter for me, his heart lifted at the thought of his sweetheart's devotion. They could build a new home together in The City of Skilled Hands.

He was about to leave, when an old fellow pushing a hand cart loaded with coils of new-looking rope, stopped to pass the time with him. After introducing himself as Errol Mozah, he told Donel to just call him Mozah, everyone else did, he related that this building had been vacant when it burned; The orphanage that was here moved to Port Llast about two summers ago.

Mozah's information rolled a tremendous stone from the stable boy's heart. Donel was about to introduce himself when the old timer interrupted him, "Wait a minute," he said, scratching a chin with a tenday's worth of ragged beard. "I recognize you now. You're one of the waifs who grew up here at the orphanage... under the watchful eye of... oh, what was her name?"

Donel couldn't help but smile at the memory. "The ogress, Mistress Kimber," the stable boy supplied. "Master Donel, you must remember to wipe your feet upon entering," he said in a mocking voice. The memory made his heart ache.

"I remember now," the old man mused. "You kids called her that, and after awhile, the name stuck. We were all calling her that, which was unfair, because Marlah Kimber really cared about those she called the forgotten ones. There was even a drow-devil-girl there, but Marlah cared for that one as well."

He means Lillith, Donel though. But she was just a babe when I left for Neverwinter. "That's funny," Donel replied, a thoughtful look on his face. "I don't recall any dark-elf sisters at the orphanage." Now he was sure the old man was mistaken.

"Oh, you wouldn't have," Mozah said, with a sly grin. "Marlah wasn't stupid. She'd have kept that hell-spawn down in the cellar, away from fish-wives' prying eyes. No telling what the villagers would have done had they found that child."

Rolan can thank the Gods that Lillith is fair skinned, Donel concluded. How did the ogress keep Lil's heritage a secret? Apparently no one ever believed the truth.

"You know," the old fellow ruminated, scratching his chin again. "I think that Cap'n Edgewater's bought this lot, maybe to build a warehouse for his trading business. One thing I do know, if the Cap'n is involved, there will be gold coming in from it... Well, it was nice seeing ya again, gotta go, duty calls," He picked up his cart traces and started working his way to the landing.

On entering the stable, Donel noticed the Knight-Captain and Rolan speaking to the stablemaster. They were standing beside 'Tara, who was saddled and ready to ride. The moon elf was openly admiring his mount. After the stablemaster showed him 'Tara's new shoe and clean frog, Tiernah shook his hand and thanked him for his help getting her book and the familiar to Highcliff in time for the full moon tomorrow night. When he mounted, she handed up a small bag of coins and wished him a safe trip.

Rolan stepped up and gripped Donel's hand firmly. "Our door is always open to you, brother, thanks for your help," he said, stepping back and sketching a salute.

Donel thought, maybe they're not all gone, this is still home, as he pulled 'Tara's head around. "Take good care of my little sister, she's a very special lady," he said, turned to the Knight-Captain and addressed her; "My Lady, with your leave. May I return to Neverwinter?"

She smiled up at him. "Granted, Gods' speed, soldier of Neverwinter."

Lady Tiernah and Isilme'len were seated cross-legged, facing each other on two of the four woven floormats arranged in a circle on the patio roof. Their hands were clasped palm-to-palm. Rolan and Lillith faced each other as well, hands also palm-to-palm. The third-quarter moon had yet to rise—The night was filled with the sounds and smells of late autumn in the village of Highcliff. Their communion created a hazy aura that hid them from any prying eyes. The Knight-Captain's blue telkiira was suspended in the empty space between their joined hands. The knowledge of transcendence it contained was now theirs to use.

To the participants, Lillith, Rolan, Isilme'len, and Tiernah, this first communion was to establish their acceptance of Sehanine's will, not just in this ritual, but in their lives. Their lives would then be offered up to the judgment of the Seldarine. After being found worthy, they would be able to perform the Petition to Sehanine Moonbow on the following night, under the full moon.

A luminous cloud enveloped each of the participants in turn as their hearts were touched by The Lady of Dreams. Lillith's joy was in the new life she harbored. Rolan's heart swelled with the pride of young manhood. Isilme'len's love of family, husband, and home was a beacon of light in a land falling under a cloud of shadow. Tiernah's heart's desire was to fulfill Sehanine's will on her friend, Shandra's behalf.

The participants all agreed with Tiernah that the devils at Jerro's Haven who orchestrated Shandra's death by her great-grandfather's hand should not prevail.

The voice of The Daughter of the Night Skies concluded their communion; My most worthy children—On the next rise of the moon, to continue the life of the noble warrior spirit of Shandra of the Jerro line, your youngest will be tested. Mother will be as a mother, and father as a father. To stand true is to succeed. Only to worthy parents will this noble life be entrusted. Rest easy in your minds, to fail bears no shame. To succeed, there is a continuation of a life lived in the light...

The four participants; two moon elves and two half-elves, did not see the four leather-armored elven archers move into place around the Edgewater's home—One at each point of the compass; north, east, south, and west. These guardians, Sentinels of the Moonbow, settled in, awaiting the appointed time.

Sehanine was smiling—her plans were falling neatly into place. Her children, having completed their first communion, were most worthy. Correllon had recently returned to tell her the other members of the Seldarine were unanimous in their approval. She knew that he would grant her Petition for Templa Tel'Quessir with pleasure.

Her Sentinels, charged with protecting the participants as well as the spirit vessel, were already in place. The Heavenly Starsinger, her most senior priestess, along with her attendants, had the temple prepared for The Trial of Mother and Father.

With one last loose end to be tied up, she approached her husband. "The preparations are finished, Melamin," she smiled up at him. "You have my gratitude for granting this for me. The approval was a surprise. I would think some would object to a direct intervention in Faerun."

"Not to worry, Ithilamin, the road to diplomacy is only as smooth as its paving stones," he said; Was he teasing again? She could never be sure, He could be very subtle at times. "There was mention of another petition. Another claim on the spirit you are so fond of..." He let the statement hang in the still air. He looked at his wife and raised an eyebrow.

"If it had been from one of the faithful, I would have considered it," she said stiffly. "This warlock, the tattooed one was entangled in lower-planes scheming that resulted in his murder of a blood relative." Her distaste for Ammon Jerro was obvious."I believe that was my decision to make," she stated, looking her husband in the eye.

"Agreed, Arwenamin," he replied, a hint of a smile touched his lips. "Now, when can I expect an enraged lower-planes deity to darken my door, asking for his spirit back?"

She didn't rise to his bait; "Never, Heruamin," she answered with a bit of superiority. "This warlock was one of the n'nerdur."

"Oh, pity," he said with mock remorse, "A good war would have livened things up. The forces of good against evil..."

"Correllon," she interrupted his dramatics, the horror plain in her voice. When she looked up, his expression of delight made her frown, then she burst out laughing. Yes indeed, her husband was the definition of subtlety.

Rolan sat on his marriage bed with his wife cradled in his arms. Unwilling to disturb her reverie, he sat quietly in contemplation of the state of his world. His family's import business was turning a handsome profit, his mother's bakery was in the process of outgrowing its property, and he had won the heart of the most beautiful girl in Faerun, who would bear him a child of mystery very soon; He hoped for a boy, but a girl would do him just fine.

The woman in his arms stretched out and leaned back against him, sighing contentedly. She kissed his hands and placed them around her swollen middle, saying, "your baby girl is about to kick a hole in me... can you feel her moving?"

"Hey, yeah," he replied, surprised at what his wife knew. "But, how do you know it's a girl? Are you sure?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure," she answered. "I've been communing with her for a tenday now. I think it's about time for a name, father-to-be," she said, hinting at his elven duty to announce their baby's name.

He'd been thinking about names for quite a while now, and had thought up one he was sure Lil would like. "How about Melyanna?" he asked with some confidence.

She seemed to be considering his choice. Just about the time he was going to give up on her and get angry, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, smiled, and said, "It's beautiful in both word and meaning. Now you'll have to tell her."

"How do I do that," he was on uncertain ground. "Just say it loud enough?" he ventured a guess.

"No, silly," she said, rolling her pale gold eyes at him. "Commune with her... here, I'll show you how," she took his hands and again placed them on her middle. "Now, relax and reach out with your mind like you do with me. I'll be here to help you." She placed her hands over his...

Rolan's step was much lighter when he returned to work on the waterfront that afternoon.

The creature that Neeshka had named Moonbow didn't understand what being lost was, but she couldn't find any of her people. She'd followed Rolan out the back door and through the patio, without him even seeing her behind him. With his mind on his baby girl, he quickly outdistanced the familiar.

Giving up her chase of Rolan, she turned back home, only to find the door closed. After nosing around the door, she followed a scent trail through the patio and up a flight of stairs.

Standing on the top step leading to Isilme'len's upstairs hideaway, the familiar picked up the scent of their recent presence here, especially the playful woman who would soon give birth to a young one. Seeing no one, she called out with a lost-sounding chirp, sure that someone would come looking.

An answering chirp that sounded just like the playful one's reply seemed to come from down below, caused the familiar to descend the stairs to the patio in her long-bodied, bouncing weasel's gait.

The elven archer standing alone in the patio surprised Moonbow. His oil-darkened leather armor was adorned with finely etched silver inlays. A dark lambswool hood covered his head. Intense pale blue eyes were lit by a friendly, disarming gleam. The Elven Court Bow slung over his shoulder was a work of ancient elven art.

"Hello, little one," he said, his greeting was reserved, but still friendly. "Not lost, are you?" When he reached down to pick up the familiar, she scooted up his arm and settled down on his broad shoulder.

Just as he reached for the door handle, it turned and the door opened, revealing a very pregnant, half-sun-elf woman. He recognized The Chosen One immediately. "Your pardon, Arwen en Amin," he said solemnly, sweeping into a perfect bow that almost unseated the chattering familiar on his shoulder.

Lillith recovered with her usual good grace, revealing her most radiant smile. "Vedui, sentinel, let me relieve you of that noisy burden," she said, gathering up her little friend, who quieted down after running up to her shoulder. She answered her mother-in-law's question about who was at the door, and turned back to find Moonbow's benefactor gone. She closed the door quietly after looking around to make sure he had really left.

The four were gathered together; To the two half-elves and two moon elves, reality was a blur. Each member, at this moment, a separate entity seated comfortably on a woven floor-mat.

Lillith on the west, faced her husband, Rolan, on the east, while Rolan's mother, Isilme'len, on the south, faced Lady Tiernah, on the north. Moonbow was curled up, asleep, in the center of their circle.

When everyone was ready, Lady Tiernah initiated The Ritual of Petition to Sehanine Moonbow by holding the blue telkiira in both hands out before her. When the gem flared with a soft blue light, she passed it to Lillith, on her right, who held it for a moment before passing it to Isilme'len, who was on her right. Isilme'len held the glowing gem for a moment, then passed it to Rolan, who was on her right. Rolan passed the gem back to Lady Tiernah to complete the circle and returned his hands to his knees, palms up, like the others.

Tie's right hand was extended with the gem in her palm. It raised up and centered itself within their circle at eye level. A cool blue fire descended from the loregem's heart, fueled by the silver light of the full moon overhead. Not bothered in the least by the blue beam engulfing her, the familiar slept on.

Each participant's eyes was focused on the glowing blue crystal. An enchanting vista of the Highcliff countryside appeared in their minds, projected by the spirit within the vessel sleeping peacefully on her floor mat and focused by the power within the gem.

The life of Shandra Jerro, presented in isolated scenes, flowed through their consciousness; First, as a babe, then, as a child, and finally, as an adult. It was a simple life, mostly unremarkable until the finale, marked by her suffering at the misguided hands of her now-repentant great-grandfather when she refused to let her friends die. Her sacrifice was the reason for the spirit vessel's existence.

In response to an unspoken command, Lillith slowly raised her arms and extended her hands. Her husband did the same, turning his hands over, palms down. Their fingers folded naturally together, forming a physical union. With this joining of hands and minds, The Trial of Mother and Father could begin. Their presence faded away, until there were only two moon elves seated in the circle of the loregem's glow; Lady Tiernah, on the north, and Isilme'len, on the south. Moonbow slept on, in dreamless, undisturbed slumber.

As if in a dream, Rolan, for the second time in his life, stood on the bluff overlooking the deep lagoon in Highcliff's harbor, his wife of three years was cradled in his arms.

A memory of that first moment played through his mind;

He looked down at his sweetheart languishing in his arms. "Amin mela lle," he said, his second thoughts about this were growing stronger.

"Asca Astalder," Lil whispered, kissing him on the lips.

"Manka lle merna," he replied, looking across the clearing. Setting his face in a grim mask of concentration, he ran through the opening in the fence, hearing Lillith's scream as the rock disappeared from beneath his boots. The weightless feeling made him giddy.

Still holding his love in his arms, his last thought before they hit the water was, Oh Lil, what have we done?

He looked down at his wife languishing in his arms. " Amin mela lle," he repeated, these years later, his lady's love and time had erased all doubt.

"So the trial begins," Lil murmured sleepily. "This time, we needn't rush," she sighed, kissing him on the lips, like she'd done years before, when he'd carried her off this very cliff as a childish prank. "Astalder, my love is eternal." she assured her child's sire.

"Aye, Arwenamin, Anaramin, as is mine," he said fervently, stepping off into the unknown.

Grey Co. Elven Translations;

telkiira-loregem

Templa Tel'Quessir-elven high-magic

Melamin-my love

Ithilamin-my moon

Arwenamin-My Lady (familiar)

Heruamin-My Lord (familiar)

n'nerdur-faithless

Melyanna-Dear Gift

Arwen en Amin-My Lady (non-familiar)

Vedui-Greetings

Asca Astalder-Hurry, Valiant one

Manka lle merna-if you wish

Amin mela lle-I love you

Astalder-Valiant one (Rolan's lore name)

Anaramin-My Sun (Lillith's lore name)

A/N My thanks to that humble maven of all things elven, BronxWench, for some neat ideas about moon elf mysticism.

My gratitude to Wyl for his assistance in shuffling and re-dealing scenes.