Private Tales We need to talk about Vel Anir

[Lanna Thalien]

The Council of Mevenua, Tarnossia, Falwood
Early Afternoon

Even in the height of summer, the heat of the sun seemed to dissipate amongst the trees of the Falwood. So while Mevenua was sometimes uncomfortably warm while the season was at its peak, there was never any true discomfort amongst the elves who lived within the bounds of the forest. The elves of Tarnossia did enjoy the sun to a greater extent than many other elven kingdoms, however, for they prized open spaces even amongst the forest growth, slowly over the centuries, coaxing more and more alterations to their surroundings. The Council of Mevenua, for example, had been rebuilt atop one of the hills overlooking the city, allowing the heads of the Tarnossë (or whomever they chose to represent them at Council meetings) to survey the city around them, reminding them of their duties to the elves of Tarnossia. In turn, the elves of Tarnossia who chose to watch the Council in its deliberations would be able to see the deliberations of those who led them.

So had Roniel designed it, and so had Thalien accepted and allowed for it.

There was no formal meeting today, nor would there be for the next few weeks. The Lords and Ladies of Tarnossia had their own duties that called and kept them away for weeks and months on end, but Lánna still used the Council chambers as a meeting places with the other nobles who sought audience with her. As she ascended the stone steps that led up and around the hill into the Council hall, a breeze tugged gently on her silver robes, causing the colours to glint in the sunlight. To the eyes of those who noticed, it was almost as if a star was rising up against the landscape, coming to rest at its top. Behind her came her husband Lirilion, clothed in a light lilac and white, and members of her guard, her twin brothers Oláron and Olinwë, as well as Elorath Gilgolor, who despite his youth had already made himself renown among the great warriors of his generation at great sacrifice to his own health.

She didn't know what impulse had made her elevate Elorath to her Honor Guard. Perhaps it was his immense dedication towards the protection of his homeland against all encroaching foes, especially Vel Anir and their Dreadlords, that led him to sacrifice himself and his longevity for his people. Perhaps she had seen the strength of his rage and wanted to guide it as best she could to the benefit of Tarnossia. Lanna didn't quite know herself. Even as a telepath, the logic behind one's motivations and actions did not always make sense, and they did not always have to make sense to her. In all the centuries that she had lived, she had found that a person's logic was always subjective to context.

Lánna found herself staring out from the balcony of the Council hall, looking down at the city laid out before her and the elves that walked in Mevenua. If she strained, she could hear the faint sounds of gentle singing drifting up from the streets below, songs of gentle merrymaking, others of sadness and loss - all part of the cycle of life.

A new set of approaching footsteps up the stairs to the Council hall caused them all to turn, and Lanna nodded her head in greeting. "High Lord Adoniel Sharion, welcome to Mevenua. Silelen or sillumë omentielvo - the Stars shine brightly over the hour of our meeting. I hope that all has been as you have wished in your stay here thus far." Though the Adoniel had been to Mevenua before, to Lanna's knowledge this was the first time that he had been to Mevenua as High Lord of Sharion, and not just the Heir. His father had died recently under murky circumstances, with signs pointing towards foul play, though who had been the cause of it had yet to be determined. But the entirety of Tarnossë Sharion had been on edge, and in the period of undercertainty there had been more reports of conflicts with the settlements of Vel Anir and their satellite cities and towns on the Sharion border.

 

[Andoniel Sharion]

There was never a time where the High Lord of Sharion did not ride with his dogs of war. He'd seen his father before him do the same thing on many a summer day. Beneath the thick trees that covered their home he was, himself, a force of nature. His voice carried on the wind with but a whisper. Such was the power of his voice and the respect he commanded among those that served him. Adoniel was much the same. Before, he would look at his father with envy that he could not ride the same way or match his steps in combat. Before, the men at his back would not move at his command the same way. Such mastery over self and one's surroundings could only come through repetition. For close to three hundred years, he'd repeated and emulated all that could about Ectheliel Sharion. His presence, his mannerisms, his cunning.

The Wolf of Falwood wore a stoic expression beneath his ornate helm. The ten warriors that rode with him and were as quiet as the summer breeze. That was their way. The humans they did battle with were often heavy in their footsteps and loud in their manner of speaking. The warriors of Tarnossë Sharion knew better.

It wasn't his first time visiting Mevenua, but he was normally glad of it when he didn't have to be present there. Certainly, it was more beautiful than most cities within Tarnossia. An elf would always feel at home there, enjoying the ambient music of their people in a world that seemed so far away from the hell of war. It stirred a bit of envy in his heart that he could not be there as often as he would like. Tarnossë Sharion's responsibility saw to it that they would never know comfort, not truly. There was always a threat present and always a new battle to fight.

The High Lord was the only one to ascend the steps of that great meeting place, his helmet under his left arm and the long blue cloak he wore followed up the steps behind him. He greeted High Lady Lanna Thalien with a slight bow of his head and a warm smile.

"High Lady Lanna," he spoke quietly, a low voice carrying on the wind as though it were meant to be there. "Indeed. All has proceeded exactly as I've desired. It is a rare thing for me to step foot in Mevenua. I fear I won't want to leave when the time comes."

Briefly, his gaze shifted to Elorath, an elf he served beside and bled with. His head bowed to him as well. Even though he was of lower station, the High Lord of Tarnossë Sharion always knew to pay reverence to those who paid the price for their people's freedom in blood.

 

[Elorath Gilgolor]

A few hours ago​

He woke up on the floor once again.

It was still dark out, which was good. He wouldn't want to arrive late to his duty, as he hadn't fallen to those levels of desperation yet. His head was still ringing as if he'd been clubbed, but otherwise his strength had mostly returned. He could vaguely remember his trip back to his room last night. It had been a simple duel. In mornings such as these, he always told himself that he wouldn't use the runes.

Then he got onto the sands. He felt the sweat of his training fatiguing his muscles. Looked into hopeful eyes that hoped they could beat him while he was feeling down. All of these things paled in comparison to what he really chased. The rush of strength, and the feeling that he could punch through a solid bolder without even blinking an eye.

He had the power to be invincible, and the only collateral that invincibility demanded was the pallid corpse that he'd been given as a child. It felt a meager sum for such a power. Even now, as he told himself he would hold back in the future; he knew that it was a lie.

The truth was, that he didn't want to hold back. He didn't want a long life. Or a happy one. He wanted strength.

He pulled himself off of the floor and stumbled through the dark to light the candles in the room with his small tinderbox. Once his small sanctuary had been set up, he sat down to meditate. His mind flooded with images of those that he had lost. He watched them disappear one by one until only he remained.

Present
​

When he had heard that the High Lord Sharion was going to attend them, it had come as a pleasant surprise. He often found himself among those of much higher station, given his unlikely position, but it would be nice to be around the clan of his father again, even if it was for a brief time. As the older elf entered the hall, Elorath offered a salute in the Sharion fashion accompanied by a deep bow of respect. He had always commanded respect, and Elorath was not immune to the affect. There had been a time when he'd fought alongside the lord, and he'd been as capable a fighter as any that Elorath had seen.

As the other two exchanged pleasantries, Elorath stood in quiet formation; hand on his sword and vigilant. Even if he knew Lord Adoniel it was not his place to speak in this setting without an invitation.

 

[Lanna Thalien]

"It brings joy to Thalien that you have found rest here in Mevenua." Lánna replied, the slightest of smiles on her face. One of the customs held amongst Tarnossian elves was that open displays of emotion were unseemly, if not outright rude, like spitting your feelings in front of another person. Subtle displays of emotion were preferred ... a raised eyebrow, a brief quirk of the lips, all conveyed much more weight amongst the elves of Tarnossia, and especially the nobility and those who lived in the cities than outsiders would first assume. Many thought the Tarnossians hard to read, and in many situations that was extremely advantageous especially in diplomatic negotiations with those on the outside. "You may stay here as long as is necessary to find peace, and then a return to duty."

The borders of Sharion guarded against Vel Anir, their most pressing and urgent threat, superseding all other foreign matters in importance and urgency. And she there were recent indications that Oláron and Elorath had brought to her that indicated that strife between the humans and the elves along the border were picking up again, at an intensity unseen for a hundred years.

Vel Anir, it seemed, had somehow been transformed into a republic, governed not only by the monarch and the Seven Houses beneath them, but also by others whom nobility would consider to be commonfolk, a move that while nice in theory had generated waves of unrest amongst the towns and the villages that looked to the great city for security and protection. Many saw the new republic as weak, unworthy to lead, and had broken away to forge their own destiny, and rumours had reached Lánna's ears that some of these humans had chosen to renew ancient conflicts along the border of Tarnossia and Sharion, to devastating results on the side of the humans. Lánna had not yet tapped upon Tarnossë Aravell to investigate the situation diplomatically, but she had wanted to hear the situation from Lord Adoniel's own voice first before deciding what to do.

"The Lords Oláron and Elorath have both brought me rumours that there are disturbances along the border, High Lord Sharion." Lánna continued, her voice becoming more neutral in tone. "Recent events in the city of Vel Anir have reached even the Heart of Tarnossia here in Mevenua, and rest assured that our brothers and sisters of Aravell are keeping a close watch on the situation. From what I have heard, it does seem that this ... Council of Hundred that they have set up is less effective at keeping their border towns and villages in line than their royals and the Seven Houses. Confirmation of the exact situation along the border would be of paramount importance to the Council of Mevenua."

Lánna gestured and spoke a few words, and upon the stone table in the middle of the room where the Council sat in formal meetings, light started to glow, tracing and morphing until a map of the entire Kingdom of Tarnossia, along with the surrounding regions of Fal'Addas and the territories of Vel Anir were illuminated. The outlines of the individual Tarnossë were marked out as well in dotted lines, and the boundary between Sharion and the territories of Vel Anir started to pulse a deep crimson.

 

[Nymrethyl Sharion]

Heeding some invisible signal, the dogs of Sharion stopped at the base of the stair, and her father ascended the steps alone. Nym hesitated on the first step, scowling as she was caught between the men standing in wait and her father's billowing cloak. By nobility's right she could ascend to meet the High Lady as well, but she was also one of her father's warriors, commanded to heel. She swore under her breath and flashed her teeth, not caring if the childish display went noticed or not. Changed as her father was from his battles, he was still bloody inconsiderate. If he had only brought his personal guard along like so many other lords did, she would not even be in this position.

The moment of indecision fueled her indignation at being left behind. Kicking her armored boot onto the next step and then the next, Nym followed after her father, containing her red scowl if only by the grace of her upbringing. Atop the high steps, the two heads of the Houses were already in conversation. She slowed her pace, and tried to salvage her composure as she approached.

"High Lady Thalien," Nym rushed through the greeting, twisting her foot back and bowing her head in a manner befitting a warrior of rank, though perhaps not the scion of House Sharion. "If I may, I have just returned from a patrol where my men caught a Vel Anir scout traveling close to the Falwood Stone. He has not been... forthcoming... with us yet, but the mere presence of one of their spies so deep into our own territory speaks of an urgency to the situation." She lowered her gaze ever so slightly, deigning respect, though her words still ran hot. "Can we afford to wait for the confirmation the Council seeks, when they are already at our doorstep?"

Lanna Thalien Andoniel Sharion Elorath Gilgolor

 

[Andoniel Sharion]

Adoniel had become a little too comfortable at the thought of his daughter dying on the battlefield. It wasn't something he desired to be sure. After all, he loved all of his offspring for different reasons. Within Nymrethyl, he saw a great well of potential. She had all of the qualities that he possessed at her age and yet despite how his pup barked, her will was weak in the end wasn't it? His own warriors certainly thought as much, even though they whispered it to themselves and imagined they were out of earshot of the High Lord of Sharion he knew their hearts and what was on their mind. Perhaps what he feared was her lack of will and know-how becoming the end of her just as it had nearly been the end of her father. For if he was strong as his people imagined him to be, why would he have come this close to nature? Why was the rest of him lost in that blaze that their ancient enemies had used to destroy their homes and slaughter their people?

The High Lord of Sharion held back a scowl as his headstrong daughter made her presence known. A reminder of his own failure to teach her the meaning of patience and knowing when to be silent.

"Forgive my daughter, High Lady," the High Lord spoke, staring daggers into his offspring. Yellow eyes turned back to High Lady Thalien, though and as his body adjusted, so did the bark that was so much a part of his skin move and creak as well. "She is easily moved to speaking out of turn and before her time, but I must agree with her assessment. My warriors have taken great effort to see to the defense of our home after those swine last burned it and yet they still persist."

He would live with the scars of his last encounter with Vel Anir for the rest of his days, forced to live as half of what he used to be and half of what he was now. The Wolf of Fal'Addas was more nature than elf now and always, his heart was full of rage towards the enemies of the great forests the elves called home... but those scars reminded him of the importance of biding one's time. A lesson he would teach Nymrethyl whether she wished to learn it or not.

"Certainly, we must strike at them. It is the will of the forest that they suffer, for why else would I still stand before you as I am now... But we must have a plan should our council take such an action. Trifling with Vel Anir is no game easily played."

 

[Lanna Thalien]

All impending conversation between Lánna and Andoniel came to a halt as another set of footsteps ascended the steps, and all eyes turned to face the daughter of Sharion in stark disapproval as she burst upon the deliberations of the Council. Irritation flashed across Andoniel's marred features, quickly suppressed and buried - although it was admittedly hard for even an elf to read anything in his features. Yet still, the aura emanating from the High Lord of Sharion caused Elorath and Oláron to shift uncomfortably in their places, for it was markedly alien and distinct from elvenkind itself. However, those who were druids amongst the elves would have felt a remarkable similarity between Andoniel's aura, and those of the spirits of the Falwood, most especially that from the domain of Gladfrond, the wandering root.

The specifics of what had exactly happened to the High Lord of Sharion in the days after the last great battle between Tarnossia and Vel Anir were not widely known. It was impossible to hide the details from the Council of Tarnossia and the other High Lords who sat on the table, and Lánna presumed that High Lord Sharion's immediate family were also privy to the information. But truth be told, sightings of Gladfrond were so rare even amongst the bounds of Tarnossia where he favoured to frequent, and the exact mechanics as to how the Great Spirit had shaped and moulded Andoniel's very being were so complex (at the very least, Lánna herself got lost in the middle of the explanations of High Lords Ermaya and Pheriel) that even if the Council had publicly released a statement, no one would really have believed them.

And so the Council had publicly remained silent, even as the High Lord of Sharion ruled his domain in a form that was so utterly changed to calling him elven would have been a stretch to many in Tarnossia. And in the void caused by their silence, rumours and legends had grown to fill in the emptiness. Gossip, after all, was the lifeblood of the elves of Tarnossia.

But Andoniel stood in stark contrast to his Heir, Nymrethyl, Daughter of Sharion, who shifted uncomfortably under the weight of all their stares. She was young and impatient, unwilling or unable to play the long game as Heads of the Tarnossë, who led the Council of Tarnossia, wished. Nymrethyl had seen the scars of her father, the burning wasteland of Tarnossia as the Dreadlords of Vel Anir marched upon Fal'Addas. The death of many of her kin, some of them her own closest family. Lánna herself had lost cousins and aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews to the slaughter that Vel Anir had wrought, and her heart cried out for justice.

But Tarnossia had been greatly weakened by that war. The secret truth that the line of Thalien knew and had kept secret from all but their most trusted allies was that Tarnossia had come within a hairsbreadth of dissolving after the last war with Vel Anir. So many Elves had died, especially amongst the three Greatest of the Tarnossë of Thalien, Ermaya and Sharion, that even now the population had not reached the numbers prior to the war. Only the economic sustenance of Aravell and Teriel, and the farming efforts of Roniel, had kept Tarnossia together. If conflict was to be held with Vel Anir, it had to be prosecuted with finesse, with intelligence, with patience, that for every drop blood spilled by Tarnossia, Vel Anir would pay tenfold. And charging into war headfirst with a city-state full of highly trained and dangerous mages was not the solution.

"Our borders have always been tested by Vel Anir repeatedly ever since the end of the last war." Lánna replied to Nymrethyl. "It has always been so, as High Lord Sharion's father repeatedly cautioned me before his passing, and our response has always been the same - to tell the ambassador that Aravell sends to Vel Anir of this matter. Where of course words are exchanged and the sanctity of our borders are guaranteed until the next attempt. I find it more of interest that they managed to penetrate so far into our realm. It would be pleasing to hear if the Daughter of Sharion has an explanation as to how this scout managed to penetrate so far into our realm without us knowing. Magical aid from the Dreadlords of Vel Anir requires a suitable response from Ermaya, if such is the case."