That morning

And suffer they would.

The plan forming in my mind was to make them fear for their lives. To make them know the fear that my mother must have felt. To make them feel it was futile to even try to escape, but watch them scurry around and try.

I wanted to destroy them, from the inside, out. Watch their fear tear apart their reason, and rational thought; and only at the height of their terror, end it.

So shortly before dawn broke, I left their camp; but not before I made it clear that someone had been there. Once I was done, I headed for my perch in the trees overlooking the campsite. I wanted to be able to see them when they woke up.

It didn't take long, they were awake by the time the light of the sun shone through the canopy of trees.

I watched them stir from sleep, and I pulled back on my bow. My arrow flew true, and landed with a soft thud as it buried itself in the ground mere inches from the face of the shortest and fattest of the dwarves.

It was almost comical to watch what happened next, and if it hadn't been for the cold rage driving me, I might have even laughed (yes at this point, I was still capable of laughing).

His eyes opened slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes, not quite able to focus just yet. Then the slow recognition of what was literally all he could see in front of him.

Confusion was the first thing that crossed his face. You could see him trying to process, first exactly what was in front of him; and then WHY it was in front of him.

Fear was the second thing that crossed his face, as it all sank in. You see, attached to the arrow was a little note. It simply said “I'm coming for you”

That first night...

To this day I can’t quite explain what it was that came over me.

I didn’t yet know that my mother was dead, but I saw the look in her eye; she had been harmed to the point of not being the same again. I already felt her loss.

But it went beyond that. The anger and the pain I felt over what had happened to her… well that was a complex set of emotions there and what I was feeling, or not feeling rather, was quite simple.

I wanted, no needed them to die.

I trailed them for the better part of the day, not wanting to expose myself just yet. I wanted to be sure I had them isolated; that they didn't have any back up coming. I needed them to be alone.

That first night, I just watched them from the trees. They hadn't traveled far since leaving our village; it almost seemed like they had no where to be. They made camp in the late afternoon, and their intoxication was evident by the time the sun went down.

It really didn't take long before they had passed out around the fire; the fumes from their breath were enough to get someone like me drunk just by passing close to them. And I did get close to them that night. When I was sure they weren't going to wake any time soon, I crept down from my perch and into the firelight in their camp.

The light and shadows danced, highlighting the creases and divots on their faces.

I started to waver just for a moment. Deciding that perhaps this wasn't the right thing to do... and then the wind shifted. It was as if my mother breathed a sigh with her last breath. I later found that this was indeed the night she passed, and it just reinforced that this is what she wanted me to do.

When the wind shifted... I caught her scent mingled with the smell of dirt, and booze and sweat.

I felt the cold rage rise up in my body and settle in the pit of my stomach.
The hot rage in me wanted me to slaughter them right then and there; but the cold rage in me quashed them. It wasn't enough to make them die.

They had to suffer.

A touch beyond the beginning now

Onward to the mission, I suppose.

Here, I will have to get into a few details that I find distasteful to think about, even today.

When I found my mother that day she had been badly beaten and her body had clearly been ravaged; and she had been left there to die.

I sometimes wonder how things would have gone if I had just left her there and gone home. Blocked the thought and idea of her there out of my head and tried to move on with my life. Maybe things would have been better for me…

But I didn’t, and they weren’t.

So when I found her in that clearing; when I smelled the blood, and fluids and that stench that still haunts me now I did what any good daughter would do. I carried her home, I washed the filth from her, and I vowed revenge.

I can’t quite explain what happened to me that day. I mean, I had been angry before, hell it wasn’t an unusual state for me. But this, this was very very different.

Whenever I felt angry, my face would get hot, and my hands would tremble a bit. It always seemed like the world was tinted a little bit red.

This… my hands were steady and my body went cold. It was as if there was a block of ice in my chest. And in my mind, it contained only one thought.

Revenge.

Once my mother was comfortably resting, and I had a neighbor to look in on her, I packed a few provisions and set out to the clearing once again. My first stop, the clearing I found her in.

It wasn’t hard to pick up the trail from there.

There were three of them, dwarves by the smell that still hung strongly in the air. And they were drunk; the stench of ale and body odor was enough to track them from there, although even if it wasn’t they left a clear trail where they went.

I found them 2 days after I found my mother.

And any thoughts of turning back were soon banished.

The beginning of the end

I’ve delayed the inevitable long enough. It’s time to get to the meat of the story.

The beginning of the end of the best years of my life, came with the end of my mother’s life.

While it was not unexpected that she would die long before I would, even we elves have a clock of sorts, and eventually that clock runs out. It was the circumstances around her death that made all the difference.

My mother, the truest, gentlest, most peace loving pacifist you would ever meet, took her own life.

Imagine that for a moment. A woman who abhorred violence in any form, whether it be words, or acts, turned her one and only act of violence upon herself.

I can’t even begin to understand what was going on in her head. I know what happened only days before, but I still can’t fathom what she was feeling. There are times I think that I could have done more; that I could have prevented what happened from happening.

You see, when my mother died I wasn’t there.

I was off on a… mission… of sorts.

The mission, I’ll get into the details of it later, but it was the first time I sought vengeance, the first time I felt rage, and the first time I had a glimpse of the elf I would become. I can tell you this, the woman I became during those few days, was not someone I liked.

To this day, I can still smell the stench that I chased down without mercy. The stench that I first picked up when I found my mother in her favorite clearing. The stench that grew stronger as I carried her home, and washed her body and cleaned her wounds.

It’s the stench that will always make me think of the haunted look of defeat I saw in her eyes.

If I’m honest, this is the day I lost my mother; the day her eyes lost their light. When she ended it forever a few days later, she was already long tone.

As for me, I think my fate was sealed then too.

Introductions - My Home

I suppose I should get into the part of the story where I tell you about the town itself.

There really isn’t much to tell to be honest, it was quiet, idyllic truth be told. We had what we needed, either from the land or from the few traders that ventured into our lands. We were surrounded by woods, and there was plenty of game to hunt. And my mother was quite accomplished when it came to mushrooms and herbs.

There was a tavern in the center of town.

It didn’t get much use, mainly for town council meetings, and when the traders came to town.

We did get the occasional adventurer out this way, but they’d never last long.

There is one thing I’d like to touch on here. Every town has its ghost stories and myths, and ours was no different. So I thought at least.

Ours involved a secret cave on the outskirts of town. A cave that the elders took the ‘bad’ people to, and this is why everyone in town was so calm and peaceful. The troublemakers would be rounded up and taken to this cave to be taken care of, one way or another.

Let me tell you, I spent a lot of time looking for that cave as a child, and even in my early days when learning to hunt. I could have sworn I looked EVERYWHERE for that damned cave, but never ever found it.

Looking back, I wish I hadn’t spent so much time looking for it. I wish I had just left it at being a wives tale…

In the end, it didn’t matter. Eventually, I did find the cave; its location is etched into my brain even today.

But that’s a story for another day, now isn’t it?

Introductions - My lover

I suppose since I told you about my mother and father, I should tell you about the third, and final person in my life.

Feredir.

It's exceptionally hard for me to think back on him, but I'll do my best.

He was my first real love. Even now, through ages tainted by death and suffering unlike which you will ever experience, I can still honestly say that he was my first love. Perhaps my true love...

The short version of who he was to me is quite simple really. He was the only in the village with skills that matched my own (even if he had to cheat), and he was my mate.

The longer version is a little more complex, but I’ll stick to the important parts for now.

We grew up together, and quickly grew to hate one another. He was one of those boys who always has to be right, always has to have his way. I suppose you could say he reminded me a lot of my father.

His family had him training with the bow from the moment he could walk; they were hunters, and this was their custom. By the time I took up the bow myself, he was a lot further along in his training than I was.

Believe me when I say I made up for lost time.

It wasn’t long before the two of us were both leading the main hunting parties. And it wasn’t long before the two of us were at each other’s throats.

As I’m sure you could imagine, it took even less time for the two of us to, come together, so to speak.

Our rivalry became friendly, although it was clear that I was a far better shot than he was, even with his lovely goggles of cheating.

And I loved him.

I honestly wish I could say that I still did, but my love for him died long before I did.

Introductions - My Mother

I talked about my father, and touched a bit on my relationship with him, so I'd like to talk about my mother this time.

My mother was the fairest of the fair. Beautiful beyond belief, and kinder than kind could be. When I say that she was a pacifist, I mean it in every sense of the word. She wouldn't have anything to do with violence. She wouldn't even treat people who had been wounded in battle, if she didn't feel that NOT treating them was a form of violence greater than the battle itself.

For every bit of parenting my father lacked, my mother gave me double.

She was the kind of mother who knew exactly how to handle every situation. She could soothe my father from the deepest rage, and my tears over a broken heart or a skinned knee. She always knew what I needed, almost before I needed, but she'd never pressure me, or make me feel judged in any way.

I was never sure if this is just how she was, or if it was because she knew what my father lacked, she had to provide. I'm pretty sure it was just her nature. I don't think there was another elf on the planet who would have married my father. I don't think any other woman would have been able to reach him the way she obviously did.

In the village, she had a place of great honour among the council. While she was not on the council itself (she opted to not take part; she didn't want anything to do with making the kinds of choices they often had to make) but she was an advisor, and someone they listened to.

And she was the one who eventually put the bow in my hand for the first time.

It was way too large for me, and I couldn't draw it back at first, but it was love at first touch. It was like she knew I was spinning my wheels trying to find my place in the world.

It was like she always knew who I was and where I was going.

But that was my mother for you.