An Elf Ponders in the Woods

[ski_king3 0]

He rested within the forest at the base of a tree, flowery foliage and uncovered roots breaking the otherwise uniform, green floor. A mist unusual to the island hung in the air as Laethis contemplated his future.

 

 

His mind was tormented with memories of the Duke's War. In what little of the forest he could see within the fog, it did not seem so different from the first battle of the war. He reminisced -- if such a pleasant word could be used for such violence and tragedy -- about the event. The high elves riding alongside Istrians, cutting down the Raevir from their joint cavalry unit. Dismounting and fighting with bow and magic, the critical exploits made by those like Silvos and Mordew. And of course the events that occurred as the Raevir were routed, fighting in the close quarters of the forest, similar to this place.

 

He did not only think of this, but replayed it before him. He saw men moaning at the feet of trees, their lifeblood pumping from open wounds until the final beat of their heart. Other men trampled, unsure if that had been the cause of their death or merely a result afterward. And of course he saw the once green floor stained in brown and red. With his own blessed gift, he projected war. He saw what might come.

 

Then his mind traveled to a different place. He stood at the podium in the Citadel's theater, giving a speech to his fellow mali'aheral. He spoke of the death of Aneurin, an uninspiring Okarir'mali who he would paint as a martyr. He needed to galvanize the course he'd set his fellow elves upon, that of the blade in support of the Empire. Violence is abhorred by the pure, yet can one show such reservation when the cause is just and necessary? When it is for the betterment of the many?

 

"Let our blades weep no more!"

 

He had proudly proclaimed those words before every citizen within the Citadel. He had taken the Sillumir and discredited their name, yet in doing so he only strengthened their purpose and their cause. Was this another tragic time which necessitated violence?

 

And then the elf was elsewhere entirely. He rested in a forest on an island of his own. Here he had built civilization. He had created a place worth protecting. He was upon the Island of Sanctuary, just outside the boundaries of the capital of the City-State of Celein. Could this place be the same under the rule of the King of Malin? Could his people continue to persist residing in Haelun'or? Could the path of Larihei still be pursued?

 

"Do we need to stay here?"

 

The elf pondered his options once more, slowly rising from the forest floor. He had less than a month to decide, yet all he knew was whom he would never allow to win. Beyond that, the game was yet to be played.

 

 

((For the record, I just had a cool image that I found and wanted to make a post. Please don't meta this, interpret it some way and act early. Just figured it made more sense to make this post about Laethis' current predicament then some random, meaningless nonsense. Anyways, peace folks!))

[ski_king3 0]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.