The Trials of Silver Dale

No’rien sighed as he approached the green at the edge of the village. This day was finally here. He should be more excited about it. “I can’t believe you’re ready for the trials today!” his mother had exclaimed this morning over the preparation of a breakfast of elderberry and tarnick root soup. But it just wasn’t in him. Now, he was looking forward to what was beyond the tests, but he felt the trials were too over hyped in the elven community in which he had been raised.

The trials dated back dozens of generations amongst the Laoul’liel, the wood elves, No’rien’s kind. And for elves, that meant thousands of years, as each generation was at least a hundred years apart in age. It was amusing how the humans in Caer Oelin, the castle at the edge of the woods, would still drop their mouths agape at hearing such things, even after having co-existed with elves for many centuries. To their short life spans, such gaps in age and time seemed intraversable. The humans had little like the trials from what he understood. They reached their age of adulthood faster than No’rien had finished his first round of training in the woods. At that time, the humans typically found a mate and exchanged goods to purchase a home and land to live in, and started whatever their profession would be. How simple! For the elves however, tradition always ruled.

No elven child (even at 105 No’rien was still considered a youth by his elders) could perform any profession or venture into the outside world alone until he had completed the trials. Full of pomp and circumstance, yet tasteful as elven formal occasions typically were, the trials were a ritual for the transition from child to adult. True, they were a festive time. Once every decade they were held on the first full moon of the harvest season, and the celebration afterwards would go on for weeks on end. Growing up, No’rien had loved enjoying the foods and dancing of Cae Mi Conahh’el, the trials of Silver Dale. No’rien and Uwen would run between the stands of the festival, sneaking freshly baked pastries off of the warm earthenware plates, brightly colored in blues and greens to denote the occasion. The memory of the aromas of such sweets came back strongly to No’rien. The older elves manning the booths would call out after the youth as they ran away with their newly stolen breads and desserts, but only halfheartedly, as if they could remember having done the same when they were younger. Later in the evenings, giant bonfires would be built in the common areas of the village, large green fields, clearings amongst the giant, ancient trees that were the elves’ homes. Lutes, mi’noa, and voices would start up, the giddy tunes a sign that dancing could commence. Why it was only last time around that he felt brave enough to ask a girl to dance with him about the fires. Quite a bit clumsy he was, but nevertheless they both enjoyed themselves as the night wore on.

So certainly, the trials were a wonderful time. What was different this time is HE had to go through them. Walking on towards the large common area where the trials would begin, No’rien pensively pushed a lock of long golden hair that had fallen over his blue eyes back behind the point of his ear. A part of him was excited, yes. The trials were so mysterious; no one knew exactly what went on in there, except for those who had undertaken them of course. Rumors a plenty flew amongst the children. You had to fight a giant troll, or cast a powerful, complex spell to defeat a golem. Some said it was just riddles and puzzles. At the thought of this, No’rien pictured a large room like one of the nurseries up in the trees above, filled with wooden blocks and painted cards. Hopefully if they were riddles, they could challenge him more than childish games like mehrpa and kut’ou. Whatever the experiences within, people definitely were changed afterwards.

No’rien’s cousin La’ a lieun had walked into the silvery portal of the trials only a decade ago. She came out, tears in her eyes, but held her head high, doing her best to appear proud before her family. No’rien had grown up with La’ a lieun though, and could see her visibly shaking as she exited the same silvery gateway. That was the most frustrating part. After all the pomp and circumstance announcing the beginnings of the ritual, the youth undergoing them walked through a magically created portal that floated in the air. It had a silver tone to it, but it glimmered and wavered like the top of a pond. Once everyone had passed through, the portal was closed. Hours later the portal would re-emerge and where a youth had entered, an adult in the eyes of the community emerged.

Not everyone however gained this privilege. Only once in the dozen or so trials he could remember had he seen someone fail. For one reason or another, some people could not complete the trials, or had failed in their tasks, and left the “other place” that contained the trials early. In these instances, a different color portal would open depending on where in the trials the individual failed. In the instance of many years ago, the young elf had practically fallen from a greenish-blue portal. He looked up in shock, as if he had not expected to leave the trials. Turning back, his eyes had widened at the sight of the portal, as every elf entering knew that leaving through anything but a silver portal meant failure. What had perplexed No’rien and his friends were the aftermath of the incident. He had asked his parents if the young man could try again 10 year later, or would he be exiled, as the older youth had gossiped would happen. His father just looked at him with a concerned look and said, “the elders must decide.” Honestly, he never found out what happened, although most had concluded the elf was exiled because no one ever saw him around the village. The celebration after that particular trial subdued itself considerably owing to the circumstances. The adults all looked thoughtful and concerned during the feasts and dancing that typically occurred afterwards. All of the youth tried to pretend nothing unusual had happened, but looking around one could tell that everyone was a little confused. Should they feel happy for those who succeeded as usual? Sad for the one who failed? Strangely, No’rien even felt surges of something else for him occasionally, almost as if he were angry or disgusted at the elf’s inability to succeed. Everyone else could succeed, why couldn’t this one? Ever since that celebration, No’rien had vowed to himself not to fail. He would succeed, and bring pride to his family.

Within weeks after the trials, the new adults in the community could begin speaking to others in the community about apprenticeships. Wizards would come out of their workshops, smelling of lavenders and dried blossoms, but also of fouler things like brimstone and dried animal skins. Craftsmen would set out some of their finest wares to exhibit their skills. While the potential apprentices could meander around and discover a new craft or area of wizardly research to focus their lives on, all of them had picked their one true calling long before.

For No’rien, the future held images of the forest and the sounds of adventure. He longed to join the forest guides. They were an exclusive group that used many skills. The guides explored the unknown regions of the deep woods, using tracking and hunting skills to survive and keep from becoming lost. Also, with any imaginable encounter occurring in the woods, every guide was well trained in the bow, short sword, staff, knives and even hand-to-hand combat. While the combat thrilled him, it also gave him anxiety. The best part of the job was the chance to encounter other races. Growing up, No’rien had often managed to sneak into the taverns where the guides would rest after returning from journeys deep in the woods. Laughing amongst themselves and with the proprietors of the taverns over pints of elderberry wine, they would exchange tales of their latest encounters. Hiding in the shadows underneath a table, No’rien had heard the most incredible tales told of the lands at the edges of the woods. For the wood guides mission was threefold: make the woods safe and navigable for all friendly individuals who move through, protect the elven villages from those who are not so friendly, and keep the elven villages in touch with neighboring communities. The guides often spoke to the humans in the castle, Cae’r Norghalen. Often they would bring back the simple goods of the human craftsmen. Their crafts were never as delicate or exquisite as an elven good, but they were often durable and very creative. The mountains to the far north housed the stone dwarves, Ch’kal Rgralle. Supposedly, their heads barely came to the middle of your chest! However, they were not like their cousins the field gnomes or the even shorter halflings. You didn’t mess with a dwarf. Stout, fierce, uncouth and rude, they would quicker swing their ax at you than ask how you were. Still, they made excellent jewelry, weapons, and armor. A guide had once let a group of boys including No’rien swing his dwarven short sword around for a few minutes. The weapon had no elegant hilt like its elven counterpart, only a strong, functional wrapped handle and short guards. Small dwarven runes inscribed the flat of the blade. However, even the youth unskilled with the weapon could feel how strong and well balanced the blade felt. The life of the woods guide was destiny for No’rien, he felt.

Thoughts of the future dissipated and left No’rien standing at the edge of the great clearing. Hundreds of villagers were milling about, dressed in their most elegant garb. Bright shades of greens, blues, and even some reds and yellows adorned the dresses of the women and trousers and blouses of the men. Everyone still kept to simple fabrics and cuts in style with tradition, but for formal, festive dress everyone was allowed to exhibit any color imaginable. Most women choose a simple linen dress comprised of several overlapping rings of fabric, each dyed a different color. No’rien’s mother had chosen a garment in this style, each overlapping ring going down the dress a deeper shade of green, matching her eyes. No’rien himself straightened his deep blue jacket and silver pants, and then began his walk past the milling crowds into the open area. Already, four other youth were standing about in the middle with the elders who would preside over the ceremony. Thankfully they seemed to wear the same expressions on their face as he felt. One girl looked perplexed and nervous, as if she had not realized until just today that these were her trials. Two boys stood nearby talking to themselves, laughing at each other’s jokes, but only haltingly, trying to force the laughter out. Not familiar with any of them but by name, he stood apart and waited.

Not much longer, several other youth joined the group. He knew only two of them, and preferred to speak to only one. “Uwen!” he called out. His childhood friend turned to him and cracked a huge smile, eyes wide in excitement. He let his eyes slip for only a moment to Rayahl, giving him a disdainful look. Growing up, Rayahl had always reminded everyone that his father was an elder, and held significant power in the village. When no adults were looking, Rayahl always caused mischief and often even cornered younger elves. He would tell these young, naïve ones lies and false gossip, only to cause trouble with whomever he currently hated. No one No’rien knew cared for Rayahl, and most would probably whisper where no one could hear them that they wouldn’t mind if he failed the trials. Officially you should support everyone equally through the trials, but in reality there was always someone who some felt the village would be better off without.

“No’rien, good to see you. How are you feeling about all this? I just want it to be tomorrow and all this be over with.” Uwen strolled up to him, glancing with a grin and a wink at one of the girls standing nearby. He’d always been better with girls than No’rien, having asked them to dance with him at the last three or four celebrations as opposed to the one girl No’rien had danced with.

“I couldn’t agree more. I wish we had some clue what we’re facing in there. I didn’t know he was of age to compete.” No’rien flicked his head in the direction of the black haired Rayahl, who was turned away from them at the moment, facing the elders circle. Probably checking with his dad to make sure everything was ok. The one person Rayahl said yes to was his father, who was liked in the community only slightly more than Rayahl.

“I don’t think he is.” Uwen said, speaking softer to make sure their words didn’t carry, “I heard from Alleyah that his father pulled a few strings to get him in this year. Apparently the elven council to the human king is visiting for this trial, and they’re supposed to pick one winner to join them in the capital city.”

“Really?” No’rien turned back to the elders’ circle, trying to get glimpse of the elven dignitaries. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. Oh well. We probably won’t even see him in there at all. I’ve heard that we each go somewhere different and never see each other the whole time.”

“And I keep hearing the opposite. Everyone tells me to look out for your enemies and keep an eye on your friends, plus lots of strange other stuff.” A horn sounded off, signifying the beginning of the ceremonies. The group headed towards where the elder’s council leader stood.

“I think the adults are just messing with us Uwen.” No’rien told his friend, as he gave him a slap on the back jogged over with the others to stand in a line before the crowd. “Good luck, my friend.”

“Same to you.” He gave another one of those huge grins that seemed to win all the girls hearts, and turned to face the crowd as well.

“Elders, adults, youth, and babes. Families and heart of the elven community I call you together today.” Excited know that the moment had arrived, No’rien was practically bouncing on his toes. He scanned the crowd for his family as the elder spoke. Finally catching his mother’s green dress, he smiled in their direction as his family waved back to him.

“…and these brave youth today shall commence their final journey to adulthood through the trials of SilverDale…” No’rien turned his head to watch the elder leader speak. He was a great man, well respected in the community. He had no idea how old the man was, but he must be of a great age, as lines had finally creased his face, and his hair had turned silvery grey. Few elves had any signs of age before a thousand years of age. Another thing that amazed the humans, he thought to himself with a smirk. They were barely half a century old before they looked grey and wizened. What could you possibly do with such a short life? Hardly any time to learn anything, much less discover anything new. Still, they had managed to develop a civilization that, while not as refined as elven culture, still rivaled it in strength and size. That must be why they were always on the go, humans were. Elves took off weeks and months at a time to just wander the woods and reflect. If humans did that they wouldn’t get anything done before they were too old to accomplish a day’s work.

No’rien’s thoughts turned back to the elder, who had paused to catch a breath. This close to him (he had never been this close before to Elder Naa’whealu, always hearing his proclamations from afar), he heard the man’s breath catching faintly in his chest. No, he was not a thousand years old or so as he first thought. Having never seen him up close before, No’rien presumed his face must have been lined with the paths of age long ago. Likely Naa’whealu was closer to two eons in age. Suddenly he had concern for the elder, wondering how much longer he could lead the community of thousands. As far as he knew, under his leadership the community had prospered and rarely had experienced strife. Turning his head to the elder’s circle, No’rien pondered who would succeed Naa’whealu if something were to happen.

The elder’s circle guided the community through every major decision. These involved moving the community (which had not been done in a very long time, but it did happen No’rien had heard), relationships with other races, and passing judgment on those who had dared break ancient elven law. Every group of the community elected leaders to sit on the council, who then sat for life. The hierarchy of the council was simple in design. The council itself was always referred to as a circle, both literally and politically. They always traveled or sat in a circular pattern, representing that each had an equal vote on all matters of day to day life. However, the council elected among itself five elders to be Triel’ lowin, the inner sanctum, or high circle. These held the same powers as the others on day to day matters, but on major issues like going to war or exiling a member of the community, this inner circle decided the issue. Amongst the five, the eldest was chosen as leader of the council. Due to the long terms of the council members, politics in elven life were slow, but certainly not simple. Complex maneuvering could take decades to place someone in the correct position to accomplish something.

Glancing over today at the elders as the sat cross-legged in a circle, No’rien looked at the faces of the four who comprised the high circle. They formed a square within the circle. Their choices affected life more deeply in the community, and thus their logic and their principles had to be more rigid, as a square is to a circle. At least it had gone something like that in school when No’rien had learned the politics of the community. No’rien just figured that it was hard to make a circle out of four points, so they had decided to make a square instead. Who really thought the original elders had put so much thought into the symbolism of it all when they had created it? Then again, it seemed elves had a knack for attaching a lot of meaning to anything. Including, he thought with a laugh he kept to himself, the transition from childhood to adulthood.

The four sat in a square, and the leader sat in the center when he wasn’t speaking, as he was now. The four faces of the Triel’ lowin were unfamiliar for the most part to No’rien. He had heard of them mainly through gossip and adults discussing town problems. They all looked older, but one in particular, unfortunately looked the oldest. Trie Dra’nah Lloken, Rayahl’s father. No’rien’s stomach tightened at that thought. Him as council leader? What would the town be like? Well, if all went as he hoped, he would be out in the woods all the time as a guide if and when Dra’nah took leadership. Any foolish mistakes he made as leader wouldn’t affect No’rien at all. He hoped.

“Taieth dowhau nundtzaol” The council leader intoned, ending the formal prayer to the ancestors that had passed on before and to the spirits of nature. Few could speak any of the high language anymore. Outside the prayers, of course. “May your strength and courage be their guide”, No’rien translated, roughly, in his head the last few words that he caught. Courage and strength! He’d need those, he supposed. That, and even the slightest hint of what was ahead. Realizing that the moment for the trials to begin quickly approached, he looked about at the others. Each looked lost in their own thoughts, likely reviewing any physical or magical preparations each had made. Uwen managed a slight smile his direction then resumed his introspective stare. Two girls stood to the other side of the elder, conversing in a quiet, intense manner. Each had their hair, one blonde and the other dark brown as murk tree bark pulled up in a tight weave atop their heads, allowing only a few frivolous strands to hang down. The trials were not a time for the contestants to show off their hair or finest wardrobes. Within, the youth could face challenges of a mental, magical, or even physical nature. Even the female elves facing the trials wore trousers and vests rather than skirts or dresses to allow themselves to move more quickly.

“My friends, my family, children of tomorrow, give your hope and your thoughts to these individuals as they face the challenges of the Silver Dale. Let the trials begin!” While No’rien had let his thoughts wander, the rest of the council had stood and gathered around the challengers in their circle. The leader now had an ancient staff carved of the palest meer wood, a rare tree that grew only in the deepest forest and contained strong magical potential. The surface of the stave was etched with lettering in the high language, each letter gilded lightly with a silver stencil. His ears picked up a soft chant, barely more than a whisper of the wind blowing through the leaves. The elders were chanting in unison along with the leader. His lean hands grasped the meer staff tightly, his knuckles going white. The words of the spell flowed past his ears, washing over him as if he were sinking into a warm bath. The effect of the spell made the light coming in through the tree canopy above hazy, and the earth swam about him as if he were swaying in a strong wind. The air felt thick and warm about his face. A light sheen broke out on No’rien’s face. He wished to brush the droplets of sweat away, but his body felt sluggish, as if were no longer under his control.

Harshly, quickly, the effects of the spell vanished. The sensation was one of being plucked from a warm soapy bath, then thrust into an icy cold waterfall. No’rien’s eyes jerked open wide. A gasp of shock from nearby indicated he had company in the sensation. The council of elders finished their incantation on a single note, and the elder at their center struck the earth hard with the staff, ending by raising it and pointing the tip into the air ahead of him. The earth felt as though it shifted slightly under No’rien’s feet, yet he did not need to steady himself. It was if all of reality shivered for a moment to adjust for some change. A piercing white light bolted from the tip of the staff, now shining brilliantly itself. Several feet in front of the elder the light curved out and flowed into the shape of an oval. A silver portal.

A hushed silence seemed to roar at him from the gathered crowd. At the motioning of the elders, the youth lined up in front of the portal. He barely noticed as several of the elders carried off the council leader who had nearly collapsed. One by one, they entered through the portal, disappearing entirely as they stepped through. Finally, No’rien’s turn came. Taking a deep breath and flexing his hands from the fists he had tensed them into, he took a step forward into the portal. Into a silvery nothingness.

The sun stands at the wrong place in the sky…It was all No’rien could think for several seconds, and he couldn’t remember why. He surveyed his surroundings. A small glade, slightly rocky covered in yellow grasses and low lying shrubs. A few birds trilled softly in the distance. The sky stood off in the distance of the clear blue sky, only just barely above the wooded horizon. Why would the sun be in the wrong place?

Suddenly everything flowed back into his memory. This place bore no resemblance to home or any glade in the woods he had traveled. He had entered the trials, and walked through the portal. The sun shouldn’t be that low in the sky. Where was he? That portal must have transported his body somewhere distant from the village. Another thought sprang to mind as he looked quickly about. Where did the other challengers go? Well, it only made sense to separate them. Otherwise, they would all just follow each other’s lead and not each be truly challenged. Nevertheless, being alone in a strange place with the nearest town, no, even the nearest living being an unknown distance away left No’rien feeling isolated and vulnerable..

Well, no sense wasting time on pointless meanderings of the mind such as these. Best to get started on the trials. No’rien had no idea if the trials were timed or not. He didn’t think so, but best not to find out the hard way. Resolved, he began to walk briskly forward through the dry glade, stepping around the larger boulders. Just as quickly however, he came to a complete stop.

What was he supposed to do? What were the trials? Perplexed, he again reviewed his surroundings. Nothing unusual. The edges of the glade quickly turned into bushes and then trees, some familiar, some not. All sides of the glade looked the same. He could wander around for hours trying to figure out just where the first trial took place, much less how to complete whatever lay in wait.

Suddenly distraught, he plopped himself down on a nearby large granite boulder. Think, how would the elders want you to find the first trial? Perhaps someone should come along any minute now and tell him what to do. No, these trials tested your readiness for adulthood. In life, you didn’t just sit around and wait to be told how to live. You took what you knew, and figured things out for yourself. A certainty somewhere within himself told him this applied as well to the trials. What could he use though to determine his first actions?

Thoughts of his early childhood and trips to glades like this rushed to the front of his thoughts. His early teachers had brought the young elven children, all no more than 30 years old to the glades to experience the beauty of nature. Each had settled down in an isolated spot, and been told to close their eyes. The student could open his or her eyes when the day’s lesson had been taught the teacher told them enigmatically. The lesson took longer for others than some. The point had simply been to relax and allow nature to communicate through the senses with oneself. Remembering, No’rien assumed a comfortable pose on the ground near the rock on which he had been seated. Closing his eyes, he relaxed his mind and body. The sounds and sensations washed over him. Birds he hadn’t noticed before argued in a tree behind him. Wind whistled through the branches all about, brushing lightly on his face. And underneath the wind currents, a soft, soothing sound could be heard. Running water lay a short distance off to his right.

No’rien opened his eyes and sprang up to a standing position, and headed towards the sound of water. This one unique feature called him from the glade. The first trial must lay ahead.

“Actually, the second. You passed the first and easiest” A soft voice spoke in his head. Startled, he did not look around though. The elders must have some means of staying in contact with each challenger, and apparently watching and grading their progress. He hadn’t recognized the voice, but felt better knowing there was someone within reach, more or less.

Note to self, though, he thought. They’re watching all the time, apparently. What had the first test been then? To find the first, err, second test? Well, regardless, he had passed! His thoughts veered off towards the negative when he thought, but how many more? How much time passes here during the tests?

Suddenly, all thoughts jumped from his mind as he entered the clearing that contained the source of the water. A small brook bubbled up amidst fronds abloom with bright red and yellow stalks of fragrant flowers. The fresh spring water flowed over the porous rock in the pond and flowed into a larger basin. Small fish patterned in browns and golds darted beneath the surface in the clear blue green waters. In all, the scene would have been a pleasant one for any weary traveler to come across, minus one little detail. Little was perhaps the wrong word though.

Across the pond from No’rien, all of seven or eight meters away sat a large ogre on his (hers? No’rien distractedly thought to himself… he had no idea, nor any desire to know, about ogre sexes) haunches. The massive beast had not noticed him yet. Ogres were recognized as an intelligent species, but the term applied only in the loosest sense. Ogres lived in tribes, had leaders, life long mates, and possessions. That about summed up all of the similarities between ogres and elves, or any civilized race for that matter as far as he knew. One tribe, nomadic like most ogres, lived several weeks ride north of the elves in the edges of the Rordath Hills. This particular specimen had the toughest hide on anything living No’rien thought. The green, rough skin had obvious calluses and thick rough areas on the exposed arms. The two arms, which at the elbow were thicker around than No’rien’s waist ended in massive hams of hands with large iron bracers at each wrist.

Funny, he thought, those almost look like handcuffs. Until the ogre turned one hand (he was apparently busy attempting to catch one of the fish in the pond, which was far faster, and most likely quicker witted, than the ogre) and No’rien saw the links hanging from the bracers. They were handcuffs!! This beast had escaped some sort of imprisonment. Great, not only was he standing face to well, knee with a giant, stupid ogre, but it was also guilty of some sort of crime, most likely a violent one. The rest of the ogre was covered in a simply stitched leather jerkin and trousers that seemed to contain the hides of numerous beasts and were tucked into the tops of extremely worn leather boots. No weapons at least. Enjoying a dark laugh with himself though, he realized that those hands were large enough to crush No’rien in a single blow. Almost unconsciously he felt for the reassuring shape of his shortsword hilt hanging from his side, glad to know that he at least had this protection against whatever attack the ogre would try on him.

A large splash and a grunt indicated another failed attempt for the ogre to obtain lunch. No’rien had best get out of here as quickly as possible lest the creature decide an unarmed elf made an easier meal than a fish, which was probably true. Unfortunately, as No’rien prepared to turn back into the concealing foliage and undergrowth, his last thought must have triggered some form of psychic connection, or more likely, just plain bad luck. For the ogre had looked up from his increasingly futile attempts and had spotted the elf standing in front of him. It gave out a louder grunt that No’rien could not discern for surprise, confusion, anger, or something else. Surprisingly quickly for something that stood over 11 feet tall, the ogre launched itself to its feet and dropped itself into an unmistakably defensive posture.

No’rien licked his lips anxiously as he reviewed his options. Run like hell, or talk the ogre down. Hmm, the last option almost made him laugh, so option one seemed best. Yet, for some reason he hesitated. Perhaps it was a gleam in the ogre’s eye. Just the sunlight catching in that blackness as wide as an elf’s hand, but possibly something more. Cocking his head to the side inquisitively, No’rien slowly raised his hands in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture.

This however, did not translate too well. Upon seeing motion, the ogre’s massive muscles bunched beneath the dark green skin, which now that No’rien had some time to examine it, he realized was covered with a series of bumps and scars. With a small pounce (compared to a 11 foot frame the pounce was relatively small), the ogre leaped his massive frame forward and lunged into the pond several meters in. Before No’rien could utter a curse under his breath, the monster had taken several steps forward and nearly crossed the pond. So much for outrunning the ogre. Perhaps talk would be best after all.

“Umm… hello? I’m No’rien. Noooh…ryyyy…uuhhhnn”

This made the ogre pause, but it cocked its head as well and only looked a little more annoyed than before. The large squat face lined with prominent bones pushing against the green skin twitched for a moment, then a deep bass voice rumbled out

“Not stupid. Don’t repeat name for G’haran.”

After the initial shock of hearing the ogre speak had faded, No’rien realized they had just been introduced.

“Um, well, yes, G’haran. I was just on my way past the clearing. Sorry to have bothered you. I’ll be going now.” And he turned to leave, but still kept his head turned to keep an eye on the ogre.

“NO!” The sound rumbled through the trees nearby. “Stay.”

No’rien gulped somewhat nervously in all too un-elvish fashion. “Certainly.” He turned back and even took a tentative step back towards the clearing.

The ogre took the remaining steps necessary to cross the pond, albeit at a more leisurely, less “I’m going to rip your head off with my bare hands” attitude and bent back down on his haunches only a meter or so from the elf who’s face was now rather pale. “Which way” The ogre intoned, barely inflecting the statement enough to make it sound like a question.

“Not sure really, that way I suppose.” No’rien gestured towards the direction where the ogre had been. It was the direction he had been taking earlier, so he might as well continue on. The ogre didn’t seem hell-bent on killing him for dinner any longer, but he still didn’t feel quite comfortable enough to meditate again to find new direction.

“The Kalori are that way!!!!!” The ogre raised himself off his haunches and roared, knocking No’rien off balance and making him land with a plop in a small puddle, apparently an offshoot of the main brook. His hands and trousers were soaked now and covered in mud.

“The, the, um, Kalori? Who are they?”

“Not with Kalori? Not believe you!” The ogre stood and quickly approached him. How could such a beast be so quick? Physiological discussion would have to wait though as the large hands closed around his shoulders, squeezing them slighty.

“I swear, I’m not with them. Were they the ones who captured you?” A thought came to No’rien suddenly. “You escaped didn’t you?” (tighter squeeze, god it was hard to breathe now) “You didn’t commit the crime they charged you with, and you’re trying to get back to your tribe or family now. Right?” For a moment fear gripped No’rien as he thought the ploy had not worked. Then, the ogre’s thick creased brow unknitted and he let up his death squeeze on the elf. He rose his hands slowly to his shoulders and began massaging blood back into them.

“Yes. Not kill. Just ogre. Assume I kill them.” And the ogre resignedly sat back on his haunches, letting out a soft, almost whistling sound that No’rien had to realize was Ogre for a sigh.

“Tell me what happened with these Kalori. How could they capture a strong creature like you?” The thought truly intrigued him. It must take a dozen of these Kalori to take one ogre down. He didn’t know specifics, but elven skirmishes with ogres in the stories he had heard were never clean or simple. Ogres had supposedly originally been bred to resist magic by sorcerers eons ago, so elven magic had a diminished effect on them, and elven arrows barely drew blood. Only the fiercest of elven warriors could ride in on horseback and kill an ogre with an enchanted blade. Capturing was never a question from what No’rien had heard. It was always battle to the finish with these vicious creatures. Thinking that though, and comparing it with what sat before him was difficult. Perhaps he had misjudged this species through rumor before getting to know them in person.

“Kalori…” The ogre paused and looked about, then pointed the way he had come. “Are from that way. Their village one day run. Not mean to kill them. No one mean kill Kalori.” No’rien was still confused, but decided to wait and let the ogre tell the story in his own, halting manner. “Ogres on” and this horrible mixture of roar and teeth grinding erupted from G’haran’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, you were sitting on a what?”

“Grrnetchaaakzkzthptsrr” was as close as the elf could make out. “Not sit on though, go on. Like umm, a hunt?” The ogre focused his large black eyes on No’rien, seeking affirmation of his word choice.

“Oh, yes. Okay then. Your tribe was hunting something? Umm, mountain elk, they’re one of your favorites, right?”

“muuhten elf? You elf, right?”

“no, no, elk. Kk.” No’rien sounded out. Certainly don’t want to suggest his own people be a good subject for a hunt. Despite the ogre’s calmed demeanor, he still felt unsure of trusting this creature.

“Hmmm. Ogre call N’gartkchtkal. Stone runner.” Deciding that was enough of a tangent to the central narrative he was telling, G’haran shrugged and continued. “Ogre hunt stone runners into green field. Ogres fast on big field, but not stop quick.” That was the truth. The elves always preferred finding the ogres in closed areas despite the fact it was difficult to fight hand to hand with more than a few elves at a time against an ogre. Give an ogre several hundred meters of open land, and they could build up speeds to challenge the fastest night cats. Picturing that massive weight at full speed though, No’rien could see a problem with trying to come to an abrupt halt. It probably took them the length of a village to slow their tremendous weights down from those speeds.

“Stupid Kalori noble lady decide to bathe in springs during Ogre hunt. Ogre hunt on same day of moon every spring!!” As if this were the most logical thing ever conceived in an ogre’s mind. Perhaps it was. “She and people cross on foot between stone runners and ogres.” At this, No’rien winced. The ending seemed rather apparent. Certainly the lady’s entourage had heard the sound of a hundred footfalls of the thousand stone beasts coming straight at them?

“Didn’t they hear you coming?” No’rien decided to risk interrupting the ogre’s story.

“DON’T KNOW.” The ogre bellowed, knocking No’rien back both from the sudden rush of air and as a safety precaution. “Not stop to ask!” He couldn’t help but smile slightly at the ogre’s apparently unnoticed joke.

“Good point. How bad was it all? What happened then?”

The ogre just gave him a look like you would a misbehaving child. “You elf have patience of grey rabbit. Ready to hop on without wait. I get there.”

“Noble lady and twelve people dead. Ogres do everything to stop and avoid them, but they just sit right there in shock. Stone runners only a spear throw away! How not know to wait?” The ogre sighed and cupped his massive bald head in his hands, thick fingers wrapping about his skull. Slowly he brought his hands down so that they cupped his chin. “Ogre sorry. Ogres even lose stone runners, food for a whole moon to come back and help hurt people. What do people do? They throw spears at us like we attack them. So, ogres run.”

“But how did you end up in chains? Did they capture some of you?”

The ogre looked almost offended at the thought of someone being able to capture him and raised his head from his hands. “No capture! No capture G’haran. G’haran apologize. Go to village next day, even with hands tied in rope so not hurt people. Ask to speak to duke and apologize for sad day. Ogres even promise food and hide, half of all summer to help people. G’haran think Ogre elders too nice to Kalori. See what they get?” At this the ogre raised his massive clenched fists and let the remaining black links of the massive chains dangle from his wrists.

“So instead of accepting your apology the imprisoned you?” No’rien began to feel sympathy for the ogre and his people. He imagined that most likely these Kalori, although he was not familiar with them, had the characteristics of humans. Vain in their ways and afraid of anything different, humans, and many other political species for that matter, acted first and thought later.

“Not just impr… im…capture. Beat!” G’haran turned his shoulder to No’rien and made him gasp. A two or three inch burned wound seared through the shoulder muscle, caused by some sort of burning hot blade or whip. The pain must have been unimaginable.

“I’m so sorry G’haran. How did you escape?”

“Come to feed one day. G’haran pretend sick!!” The ogre’s face broke into a horrific baring of dirty, chipped teeth the size of No’rien’s nose. No’rien laughed when he realized the ogre was grinning.

“Clever boy! So what will you do now?”

“Go home. Stay away from Kalori!”

“Right. Well I’m glad you escaped. Thank you for sharing your tale. I believe I’ll do my best to avoid these Kalori as my journey takes me where it will.” He stood up and did his best to brush off his dirty hands and pants.

The ogre however looked up with concern at No’rien. “Don’t go? G’haran not get home.”
“Why not?” Amazing, within this short period he could now understand the ogre’s cryptic simplistic sentences. “What’s keeping you from getting home?”

“Kalori. They search for me everywhere between here and home. Not know what to do, so sit here like an ogre trying to catch a fish in a pond.” No’rien almost corrected the ogre, that he was actually sitting there trying to catch a fish and not like an ogre trying to catch fish, but he decided not.

“Yes. Well…” He squinted his eyes in thought as he looked around. Would this interfere with the tasks? He still had no idea how long he had to complete the trials. Was this the task? To help an ogre home? No’rien almost grinned at that. The elders would likely laugh at his predicament later when he told them. Unless they were watching now. At that thought he looked about again, as if he would see some sort of orb floating over his shoulder indicating their presence. And finally, could he trust something he had been taught to hate since his childhood? These creatures were dangerous and as he had seen today, succumbed to frequent mood swings.

“G’haran, I’d be glad to help you home. I can work my magic here in these woods so I should be able to hide us from any Kalori sentries.” To confirm his words, No’rien flicked his wrist and quickly summoned a small portion of the natural energy ebbing and flowing through and around him. His thoughts focused in the dark expanse of awareness, pulling together energies that he couldn’t describe with words. With the proper energies woven together, a quick almost sub vocal incantation brought life to the thought. A tiny, flickering blue flame appeared above his fingers, and just as quickly vanished as he opened his fist. The ogre’s eyebrows raised only slightly at seeing this act of magery.

“No sense in wasting our time, eh G’haran? Shall we be off?” No’rien leapt from his crouched position and could now look the seated ogre directly in the eyes. The ogre merely grunted and rose to again tower over the lithe frame of his new companion. Together they headed around the pond and into the wood on the far side. No’rien thought to himself, “What have I got into?”

He had been lost in his thoughts for some time when they heard the sounds up ahead. The woods reminded him of home, yet were different in ways which he could not put to words. No’rien, his slight build more subtle moving through the undergrowth than the ogre’s juggernaut approach, frequently scouted ahead of their path. But for the most part, he had let the ogre guide their progress, which had been uneventful til now. The ogre had just been parting a few saplings ahead when the sound had carried to their ears. Someone spoke in a language No’rien had not heard before several meters directly ahead of them. Judging by the ogre’s raised, tense shoulders, No’rien did not need to ask. Kalori. Quietly, relying on his years of woodlands training as a youth, No’rien approached the ogre, making only the slightest sound so as not to startle him.

“G’haran” He whispered, reaching up to lightly tap the green elbow. His elven instincts winced as the ogre brutishly turned to him, rustling several branches. “Quiet! Kalori up ahead, right?”

The ogre caught on quickly and only nodded. He then mimed someone holding a spear to signal they were soldiers. He then made a second mime, to which No’rien vigorously shook his head. “No, we don’t want to kill them unless we have to. I can distract them as we sneak around.” The ogre didn’t seem to quite agree with the decision, but decided not to protest. “Come at my signal. And DO try to be quiet, ok?” Without waiting for a response, No’rien crept around the ogre towards what he could now see was a clearing ahead. Circling around several feet, he parted the dusty green branches of a gosleberry bush and looked at his new foes. Two men were seated on horseback, softly discussing something. They appeared human, but No’rien sat several yards from them so it was difficult to tell. They each wore the trappings of their rank in their army or guard, garish orange red blousy trousers and shirts with darkly tanned leather vests. Silver etching decorated the left chest of each vest, one of them much more intricately. This should be simple enough, he thought.

Closing his eyes, No’rien reached out with his mind to the far side of the clearing, searching. He felt the presence of several grey sparrows, a squirrel or two, and finally something more suitable. A warthog rooting around in the undergrowth a few yards past the edge of the clearing. Gently, he reached into the simple mind of the hog and planted a few suggestions. A worm must be over here, no, over there. Not waiting for his ruse to work, No’rien opened his eyes, and turned back to the ogre to motion him on. Just then, a barely audible rustling came from across the opening. The man with the more intricate vest, obviously a superior and thus less prone to have to actually do anything ordered the other into the far woods. One down, one to go. This would take a bit more energy on the part of his own body, but would be worth it. No’rien could not enter the intelligent mind of this man like could the hog. At least, not without great effort and most definitely letting the man know something was afoot. Rather, he focused on his body, his heart, his breathing. Pulling from his own inner reserve of strength and energy, No’rien relaxed the man’s breath, then his heart rate. Soon, he slumped over in his saddle. The elf’s breath caught for a moment when it seemed the officer might slip from his saddle. Hadn’t thought of that happening! Luck of the wood goddess be with them, he instead just lay crumpled atop the chestnut brown horse, which seemed content to graze on the grass at its feet.

The ogre and elf then proceeded to move around the clearing as quickly but quietly as possible. Not as silent as an elven hunting party, the ogre occasionally snapping a twig or brushing a branch. Guess it was hard to be stealthy when you carried an eleven foot high frame. Their luck continued though, and they proceeded away without an incident. Not until several minutes afterwards did No’rien realize he’d been breathing in short, sharp breaths, holding them in tightly. He shook his head and shoulders and exhaled a long, slow breath. How many more patrols like that would they come across and be so lucky? Also, he could feel the fatigue from the Sleep spell he had cast. It wouldn’t last long, but he couldn’t go putting the entire Kalori guard under to get this ogre home.

“So G’haran, tell me of life as an ogre. I’m afraid I don’t know much besides you live in tribes, and far from my people. I hate to admit it, but my people tell more rumors than fact about your kind and generally raise us to fear and hate you.”

The ogre paused in his push through the foliage and turned to No’rien, and gave him a look that said “Tell me something I haven’t heard.”

“Not many like ogres. Keep to ourselves. Ogre dumb, ogre mean, heard it everywhere.”

“Then why don’t you work to change the rumors and myths? Go into towns and well, I don’t know, open a smithy or something? Show them how normal you can be?”
“Normal? Ogres normal. Just not Kalori or elf normal. Not want a smithy. G’haran enjoy family, hunt, and bonfire on night of full moon. That all.”

“True enough. So what about your family and tribe?” No’rien continued to keep an ear out for sounds around them, but heard nothing in the lush greenery other than the occasional bird squabbling or singing.

“G’haran’s mate Keyalara, little boy. From the Tribe of Stone Throwers.”

“And the boy’s name?”

“Name? No name. Not yet. Not a hunter yet. Hunt, then he will earn his name. Name that means something.”

“Your names mean something in your language? I don’t think No’rien means anything, even in high elven. What is G’haran in um, ogre? Ogrish?” What did ogres speak other than the common tongue?

“Hmm. Not simple, hard to describe. Name tells story, not mean a word. G’haran…straight spear. Bringer of truth, honesty.”

“Ahh. A good name. You live up to it well.”

“Too good. Go to village to tell Kalori truth, to tell sorry.” Without making any other unnecessary remarks, he simply held up the chains again and shook them lightly.

“Well, your intentions were good, that’s the truth….now I’m sure you want to get back to your mate and young boy as soon as possible. I hope that was the last Kalori patrol we pass. How much further to your tribe’s territory?” Being nomadic could present a problem though, once they traveled to the ogre’s homeland, it could take days to actually locate the tribe. Were they days he could afford to lose in the trials? With a sigh, he pushed onward into the brush, whacking a thorny branch out of his way.

The ogre cast his gaze upward to the patches of cloudy sky that could be seen through the branches overhead. “One more day’s travel, then another to find them.”

No’rien and G’haran trudged on through the afternoon and evening without further mishap. The thickness of the undergrowth ebbed and flowed the tides of some emerald sea, slowing their progress to a crawl at some points, and in turn rewarding them with wide open clearings, which they still skirted to avoid detection by Kalori. Through the evening, G’haran told him of several Ogre traditions and folklore, while he shared bits and pieces of the overly complex and lengthy Elven lore. No’rien had never realized how much perspective played in history. The ancient feud between elven and dwarven blood ran deep into history and existed only in even the vast realms of Elven culture as myth of epic proportions. However, to the ogres, the battles and related stories that had begun the eternal tensions were merely the reason for why their tribes had migrated from one region to another so as to avoid battles.

As the two unlikely companions struggled on through the woods No’rien found himself rather liking the dumb, giant brute that thrashed through the forest beside him. If you’d told me I’d be wandering a strange forest with an ogre as a friend even a day ago I would have laughed myself silly, he thought. Great weapons come in the simplest of sheaths, as the old saying went.

Before he knew it, the sun had slipped away entirely giving away to the lurking shadows of night. Every dark niche, each nocturnal animal rising for its first meal and breaking a twig, the hoot of the owls in the distance set No’rien’s nerves on edge. He had never really been in a situation like this before. Once, in his younger days he had hunted with a neighbor’s older sons for silver deer. Beatiful creatures with dark velvety coats, their antlers glistened in the moonlight with a silvery sheen, giving them their name. Boh’ra and Illien, his neighbors, had tracked down a small group of the deer drinking at a quiet pond. Their bows ready, the three of them had approached silently as generations of elves living in the woods had learned. Not even the wind seemed to take notice of the sylvan folk, so unnoticeable seemed their approach. Such a quiet maneuver also took time. Several minutes passed before they were near the deer. Finally, the moment arrived, and Illien signaled with a sound that any ear but elven would deem only a change in the wind, a soft whistling rustle. His wood call, each elf’s unique. They each sighted their arrows, dead center on the chests of the unknowing bucks only yards away. Phhhwwtt!! Phhwwtt!! The strings of Boh’ra and Illien let loose and their deadly venom of arrows sprang forth with lethal accuracy. The twang of each bolt as it’s tip vibrated, sticking out of the now fallen deer still hung in the cold night air, made even more silent now by the attacks, as if any nearby fauna sensed impending danger. But one arrow had remained notched a moment too long. For when No’rien had seen the young buck across the tip of his arrowhead, he had felt sorrow for the beast. For destroying this life without thought, without concern for the impact. But still, he had let loose, only a moment too late. The arrow caught in the deer’s leg, and it called in pain as it ran stumbling from the clearing. A short chase by Illien with his hatchet brought the slain deer back with his deceased brethren. No’rien had stood there, shaking, watching his breath form hazy pools of fog in the chilly air.

Afterwards, he had told them it had been the thought of killing such a helpless beast that caused his mistake. At which, his friends and family laughed. His father took him aside on a walk around the village, discussing the balance of life and other such fatherly things as only a father could think were applicable. But what he hadn’t shared with them was another emotion. His fear. Not only had he thought of sadness for the beast, he had thought “What if this arrow were turned on me?” And a cold chill had run down his spine.

Luckily, he had not lost so much face in his neighbor’s eyes that he could not hunt again. The elves were not like that fortunately, unlike the humans and dwarves so fixated on standing and rank. They jested him just the same, but a few months later he went out again. This time, he thought of the food he could bring home, and focused on putting the creature to death as quickly and painlessly as he could, unlike the last time. And on his second (and subsequent) hunts, he had succeeded quite well, capturing the largest buck on that second trip, much to the envy of the brothers. However, he kept his concern for the animal and his sense for the balance of things on every trip. Only kill this one if I need to, he thought each time as he let loose the bowstring.

Nevertheless, although his hunting and woodlands skills had been honed over the intervening years, No’rien had never been in a situation before where his skills would keep him alive against an intelligent enemy. It was one matter to be wary when chasing warthogs as they could gore you if you were slow or careless, quite another to be concerned about a strange people called Kalori killing you only because you had irrationally decided to help an ogre you had never seen before in your life.

All day, he realized, he had been tense, especially since their encounter with the guards. Taking a deep breath at the next clearing, No’rien paused to gaze up at the stars, so many visible on such a clear night. Each sat like a gem sitting against its own dark cushion, trying to catch the eye of all who passed beneath its resting place.

“G’haran. Shall we camp for the night? I doubt we’ll make much progress in the dark, and it’s more likely we’ll stumble across guards again. I think I’m too tired tonight to try anything else to get us past anything else.”

The ogre simply shrugged noncommittally and proceeded to basically collapse onto the hard ground. By the time No’rien had gathered some softer dead foliage to spread under his cloak to make laying on the bare earth a little more comfortable, the ogre was snoring deeply. Good luck getting to sleep to that, he thought!

The evening was cool, so he wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and let his thoughts wander. So much had happened, and who knew what lay in store. His mind strived to provide him with images of what might lay in wait during the remainder of the trials. Some fascinating ideas of courageous acts where he bested some unknown foe, others more troubling. In one dream, he felt that he ran through a strange mist, hiding from some unknowable, unseeable enemy, yet constantly feeling as if he ran towards this enemy rather than away. Despite his mind’s ramblings or perhaps because of them, his weary body gave up on its struggle for awakeness and he drifted off to sleep.

He came to with a start, catching his breath. What had awakened him? His body and mind suddenly alert, the fog of sleep ran quickly away to the corners of his mind. Cautiously, No’rien lifted his head slightly and looked about, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Feigning a fitful sleep-induced turn, he rolled to his other side to continue his gaze. Everything was typically quiet, only the sounds of a few distant animals and birds searching for prey in the night.

He had almost decided that whatever had awoken him must have been a bad dream when he heard it again.

“No’rien….come to us. We will take you to the final task, but you must come now…” The soft voice seemed to float on the night air, a crystalline, beautiful quality to it. A gentle sing song tone seemed to carry beneath the words. The caller seemed a fair and gentle woman, someone to trust.

Rising to his feet he looked about for where to go. The voice had felt as if it came from nowhere and everywhere, all at the same time. Off to the right however, a light glimmered through the lines of the tree trunks, so he set off in that direction.

The light teased him as he walked towards it, always the same brightness and distance away, no matter how far he walked, nor if he ran or ambled slowly. After a few minutes of following the light, he heard the voice again and saw its source.

“Come to me No’rien…sit here beside me…” The sorceress, for that was the only word that sprang to mind to describe her, sat upon a rounded stone against a large tree whose branches spread out above her. She gently patted with her extended hand a spot on a similar boulder beside her. Long, flowing robes of pure, clean white flowed from her waist where they were gathered with a gold link belt, each round link set with an emerald whose green was deeper than the darkest leaf of the wood. The robes extended up from this belt cross like an x over her chest. Her fair, pale skin seemed dark only in comparison to the robes she wore. Long flowing fiery red hair rolled in waves off her shoulder to lay scattered on her arms and chest. This stranger looked at him from the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. As he approached her, the eyes practically sparkled with a life of her own. In fact, the shimmery brilliance that had guided him here seemed to emanate from her entire body.

Again, she patted the stone with a soft hand tipped in long, blood red fingernails. They reminded him of the teeth of a beast after it had fed on its prey. Suddenly, the spell of enchantment or whatever she had been trying to weave over him was broken and he became more wary, but still he sat down. Perhaps his imagination was getting carried away.

“You spoke of the trials. You’re the first person I’ve met here that knows of why I am here. Who are you? How do you know my name?” The questions tumbled out over themselves in a most unflattering way. What was it about her? Was she truly working a spell, or just so unnaturally beautiful as to throw him completely off?

“No’rien…” Sitting this close to her, he could almost hear soft tinkling bells ringing as her gentle, light-hearted voice went on. “I cannot answer all your questions. I wish I could. I am here to help. You have done well so far in the tasks and are destined to do well to the end, I am sure.”

“I am granted the ability by your elders to aid some of the greater of the contestants. To reward them for their good character and deeds. I can make this all go away…” With this she waved about her, indicating the forest, and, as she pointed in the direction from which he came, other things as well. “Not only will you emerge faster and with better marks than many have before you, but you will live very well. I have things I can give you…” Her hands folded together in her lap, and then stretched apart, but as they did something happened to cause No’rien to gasp. From air appeared a sword, and not just any sword. He recognized the runes in the blade, the way it reflected the moonlight, and the distinctive simple, yet elegant hilt. It was a Moravian shortsword. Crafted from the finest dwarven steel, and enchanted by ancient elven sorcerors who lived secluded far to the north. One of the few times where dwarves and elves worked together, he thought to himself, chuckling quietly. Very few of these blades were made, but were well known amongst all, even humans. The blades could hold up to being struck by any weapon, and could crack even the thickest stone. The enchantments upon the blade that were bestowed upon the bearer of the weapon brought near invincibility in battle.

This couldn’t be real. He could see through this. “Beautiful really, wonderful imitation. What’s the catch? Why would you give me this?” His eyes also grew as he caught site of a spellbook beside her, another well known and coveted item that would have many useful incantations within, he knew. “And that? I haven’t done that well yet. You want something from me.”

The fairy, or sorceress, or whatever she was threw back her head tossing her hair in an eruption of red fire and laughed merrily. “No’rien…you make me so happy! You should trust more. I want to do this for you because I want you to stay. I have seen into your heart and mind here. It is one of my gifts….I need someone here with me. I live far from here and need a protector, a friend….a companion?” She finished this by running her hand up his exposed arm, the fine hairs on the arm raising in apprehension.

“Umm..um..wait. You want me to stay here with you? I have a home, a family. How did you get things like this sword?” He picked up the weapon and swung it to test as he spoke. It felt perfectly balanced. Fine imitation if it was one..and with his mind he could feel the enchantments on it wrapping about him, protecting him, urging him to protect her as well. Quickly he sat the sword down again.

“I can tell you more if you stay with me. I have had to keep many secrets to stay alive. I am powerful but not infinitely so. I have many fine possessions from my travels. I would be willing even to go with you to your home to share our stories and our wealth with your family. I could make you an elder there! Your elders know and respect me.” She looked up into his eyes hopefully, slowly blinking, waiting patiently for his answer.

“Look, even if I wanted to go with you and become your, uh, protector or whatever…I don’t know you. What’s your name? And how can you prove to me that what you say is true?” He was generally a trusting sort, giving strangers the benefit of the doubt. But this was all a bit much to believe.

“Ra’echelle. My name is Ra’echelle. I am a river nymph. My people live in the woods, our strength tied to the creeks and eddies running through the trees. And as for the veracity of what I speak, perhaps you will trust this voice…” Ra’echelle brought her hands together gently in a cupped nature, and slowly twisting them opened them as she mouthed a silent incantation. He could feel the forces of mana, the source of magic, that fed her spell flow towards her. She was definitely powerful, whatever she was. However, if she were truly a nymph as she claimed, No’rien should have recognized all the mana that he felt as that of nature: wood, earth, air, water. But something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on was present as well. Something that made him very uncomfortable. Again, he felt like he was jumping at shadows, trying to find a reason to trust this person who seemed pure of purpose and having a good heart. Between her oustretched hands appeared a shimmery portal.

He gasped when he realized he could see people he recognized from his home town. She had opened a portal back home! A small part of him wanted to jump back through and be done with the silliness and crazy things happening here in this place that had nothing to do with him. He glanced at the woman sitting beside him…well, perhaps this place was becoming entangled with his life. Could he actually consider what she had to offer? Be some sort of guardian to a powerful sorceress who might even be interested in him for more than just his skills with a weapon?

No’rien’s focus returned to the portal as it moved across the crowd in the clearing. During the time the contestants were away (and it appeared no one had returned yet, so No’rien still had time to complete whatever his tasks would be), the watchers would buy freshly grilled foods from vendors hawking their wares, mugs of chilled spiced wine and juices, and the children small handmade toys, many of them making far more noise than such a small toy seemed capable. The view continued to pan until it came to the elders, and zoomed in on one. Elder Ahmwuell, well known and liked in the community. He spent much of his free time taking the younger elves, including No’rien when he had been a child nearly a century ago, for walks in the woods. Ahmwuell, or Father Ahmwhue as the children called him, filled their heads with wild stories of dragons and trolls that the children loved, even as they shivered in fear at the telling. The elders all sat, focused with their eyes closed, as if in the middle of some great spell casting. Perhaps something to do with keeping the portal open. Ahmwuell’s eyes opened and seemed to look straight at No’rien. As it turned out, he was.

“No’rien” Ahmwuell spoke softly, a smile creasing his old, tired face, wrinkles finally breaking through the fine elven appearance. “It is good to see you. I see you have met Ra’echelle?”

“Father, yes. Who is she? How does she know you? Can I trust her?” A larger grin broke out on the elder elf’s face and he gently chuckled at the onslaught of questions. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spill all that at once. This is all so much.”

“Yes, it is No’rien. But you must learn to take in all that is around you when you are presented with it, as it may be your only chance. Ra’echelle is very real, and we of the council do know her. Her kind are extremely powerful, and she only more so.”

“She’s offered to make me her personal guard, and well, umm…” No’rien’s cheeks blushed at this, “and perhaps more.”

“That she can do, and her word is true, but mark what is word and what is thought, boy. For there in that distinction and lack there of it lies danger. Find what is true in your heart and go with it. I must return to my union with the others to give safe journey to those who return. Take care No’rien.”

The portal faded to a soft green then dissipated away into the night air as if a wind blew a patch of fog apart. That was about as cryptic as one could get, he supposed. It sounded from Ahmwuell’s words that he could believe Ra’echelle’s offer. He turned to face her, to look into those gentle, still pools of blue that stared back at him. Her soft red lips broke into a small smile.

“You’ll come, then, No’rien? That would make me so happy!” She stood and offered him her hand. He accepted it, feeling the soft, warm skin against his own and began to walk with her. He couldn’t believe what he was doing. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing. Just, that it felt exciting. And Ahmwuell had said to follow what he knew to be true, right? The continued on to the far side of the clearing, and had almost left it, when a thought struck him.

“Ra’echelle, wait.” He dropped her hand, and felt her nails almost start to grab at his hand, but she released his hand as well and looked up at him in concern, and for a moment a flash of something crossed her face, like a fast storm cloud rushing across the sky of an otherwise clear day. She had almost looked angry for a second. “I have a friend I’ve made. I promised to help him return to his people. I can’t break my word to him. Can I find you after that?”

“The ogre?” She spoke the word with a soft edge of disdain, the musical note to her soft tones subdued. “He will be fine. His people are near. Besides, he is a criminal of the Kalori, and his and their business is not yours, is it?” She tilted her head and brought back some of the sweeter, lighter tone from earlier, tugging at him to forget the ogre and grab her hand again “No’rien…I am far from home and need a protector to return soon. I promise we’ll see your ogre again soon and see that he gets safely back to where he belongs. Ok?”

“Well…no, no, sorry, I can’t. I owe him. He’s alone out there and he could be caught again. Those Kalori sound awful. They mistreat him and his people and wrongly arrested him. I have to go. Will I see you again?” No’rien began backing up a few steps, prepared with a somewhat dismayed heart to return to his camp, hoping he could find his way back.

Her tone had taken on a sharply different note, her eyes narrowing. “Most assuredly you will. Goodbye”. She grabbed the edge of her flowing robes and stood. With a flourish of the white garment, she disappeared quickly into the woods, neither walking nor running, rather with something much more determined and stately, almost a march.

What a bizarre encounter. He would have to share the story with G’haran in the morning. Looking around the now empty clearing, he reluctantly decided to return to the slumbering ogre and grab what little sleep he could before the night was over. Ambling without much care back in the general direction of the camp, he kept an ear open to the sound of the ogre’s snoring and let his thoughts roam.

What had he almost done tonight? Become the guardian and companion to a moody nymph sorceress? Sounded like one of Ahmwuell’s worse stories. Something about both Ra’echelle and what Ahmwuell had spoken of her had struck a note in No’rien. Thinking back on the old elf’s words, it seemed he had been as close as he could to warning the younger, obviously more brash elf. Someone or thing must have restrained him from speaking his mind outright and forcing him to speak in that confusing riddle speak he had used. Perhaps the rules of the trials themselves, or a stronger force, he didn’t know. Despite her parting remark, he doubted he would see the beautiful, mysterious creature again. Soon, he heard a soft rise and fall that could only be the sound of a massive creature sleeping. In a few yards he came into the clearing of their campsite. G’haran had not moved since he left, so he returned to his original spot and lay down.

After shuffling around the leaves and softer spots of dirt, he drifted back into a more fitful, dream filled sleep than he had left earlier. Now, wizards and sorceresses in black and white chased him through foreign terrains, calling out to him to wait, but for some reason he kept running, never looking back.

No’rien jerked awake, bright light streaming down through the trees and into his eyes, sounds all about him. Why did he keep having to wake up like this? Couldn’t just once a gentle call of a sparrow or a few light drops of rain wake him up? Giving himself only a moment to wallow in self pity, he rolled and rose to his feet. The scene before him seemed so unlike the one of the middle of the night or the evening before when they had first stopped to camp, that he again had to pause to double check in his mind where he was and where he should be. Yes, he had been camping with the ogre in a quiet, secluded clearing in the woods. Yes, technically he and the ogre were in the same location. But everything else had changed.

Several Kalori guards on horseback rode in and out of the clearing, circling and confusing himself and the ogre, who had also obviously just woken, and just as confused. Apparently, however, the ogre could not adjust as quickly to such a change and still jerked his head about in a dazed manner. Several men on foot were shouting at each other and approaching the two of them, swords drawn, from all directions. A fire had begun burning in several places in the drier grasses in the field. The winds were picking up, dark clouds building overhead. The leaves No’rien had used as a bed the night before were picked up by the winds and tossed about like a child at play, deciding to have fun even if the situation was serious. And serious it definitely was. They didn’t appear to have a chance against this many. With so much motion, it took No’rien a few seconds to calm himself and slowly count his adversaries. This type of tactic could overwhelm someone even if the enemy were only a few larger in number. Keep everyone moving quickly, shouting, start fires for more distraction. Typically someone captured like this would thrash about confused and not even realize they were captured until too late. Three guards on horseback, four on foot, two groups of two. Well, he thought to himself with what little humor he could muster, it could be worse.

“G’haran, take those two. I’ll get these.” He called out. I hope. He thought silently to himself, steeling himself for the impending assault. The first of the two soldiers on foot quickly reached the elf, his companion only a moment behind. Their dark chain mail barely glistened in the sun, coated with oil and perhaps other dried liquids that he didn’t care to think about. Underneath the armor each wore a long sleeved tunic, dyed brightly orange. Their black trousers, boots, and gauntlets were decorated in an orange paint similar to their tunics.

No’rien had no more time to study the stern men’s faces or garb before they were on him. The first swing a simple but nevertheless deadly shortsword at him in a broad arc. The blade pierced the air so quickly a soft whistling came to No’rien’s ears as he ducked and rolled, grabbing a handful of dirt and leaves as he came up. He threw his leg out low and rapidly shifted his body weight to the opposite side, tossing the dirt almost as an afterthought at the man who had just swung at him and despite No’rien’s fast defenses only just missed him. The other man swung his buckler away from his right arm and brought a morning star that No’rien had nearly missed seeing at first in close, the heavy metal ball studded with spikes swinging ahead of the heavy chain behind it coming straight at his head. The mustached fellow smirked beneath the heavy helmet he wore, assured of his quick victory. No’rien planned to make him a little less sure. His earlier move had given him the ability to push strongly off his right leg nearest the attacker. The defensive move allowed him to fly away from the swinging weapon, but, saying a small prayer that the infrequently practiced move worked, No’rien flipped back on to his hands, keeping the energy of his dodge going and in the back flip swung back around to his attacker, clipping him in the jaw with his heel as swiftly as the studded ball had been coming towards his face a moment before. The man lost his balance and came quickly crashing to the ground, apparently dazed as his inert form surprisingly just sat there. If only he could be so lucky the rest of the combat.

Before he had too long to contemplate though, the other guard cried out a battle yell and swung his blade in. No’rien ducked and rolled across the unconscious guard, grabbing his long knife from his belt as he did. Much better, at least he was armed now. Turning, he parried a second attack from the guard, the metal on metal of the blades ringing in his ears, drowning out the crackling of the fires and shouts of the mounted soldiers for a second. The second fight took longer and much more out of the elf. Sweat rolled down his face, his long hair sticking to his skin. Once or twice he tried to find the moment he needed to gather his strength and cast a spell, but always his adversary responded too quickly from even the best feint to allow for such a thing. Finally, though, No’rien saw an opening in his opponent’s defenses after a slightly too wide swing and thrust his blade up into the soldier’s stomach. The sensation as the knife slid home was repulsive as he thought what it was doing, but mercifully it halted the guard’s movements. He backed away as the man collapsed, grasping at the blade buried to the hilt in his lower chest, blood quickly seeping away from the wound and staining his armor and clothes.

No’rien turned to assess the situation, and was pleasantly surprised followed quickly by dismay. G’haran had apparently made quick work of the two infantry men near him, both were unconscious on the ground, blood stains on their hands and faces. Bruises forming on their heads looked like they had sustained significant impact damage, most likely from a blunt object like an ogre fist. One cavalry man had been knocked off his mount. This was where the good fortune ended unfortunately. Apparently while the ogre had been distracted the cavalry men had thrown loops of heavy chain about him and pulled them taut. The chains were now locked together around the ogres arms and chest, ensnaring him. The green giant bellowed and tugged mightily at his constraints, but to no avail. One end of the chain was now tied to a heavy stake buried in the ground, keeping him in place like an animal on a leash. How barbaric. The ogre might not have been a genius, but he was a person, an equal, not some mongrel.

Preparing himself to charge the remaining soldiers, No’rien took a deep breath, and abruptly pulled himself up short as he saw what emerged from the edge of the clearing near the soldiers. Six or seven guards carrying spears came on foot, followed by a small mounted patrol. In their midst however was a woman who truly caught his breath.

Ra’echelle!! He thought. But no, it couldn’t be her. The gentle, serene beauty of the previous night had an evil twin, a dark and harsh copy. This woman was attired in heavy black battle gear, black lacquered plate mail and dark black dyed leather strips covered her from head to toe. The same fiery red hair and blue eyes stood out against the dark backdrop, like rare gems discovered in the depths of a pitch black mine. Her face was pinched and harsh, yet still alluringly beautiful. Could it be her?

Her words answered his thoughts as if she could read them. “How good to see you again No’rien. You should have chosen more wisely last night.” The musical, floating quality of her voice had vanished, to be replaced by a strong, cold tone that spoke of power and rigidity. People responded to that voice, and the owner of it knew that. “You could have been one of my…paladins. My knights in shining armor!” She tossed her head back and laughed at this last bit, summoning one of the guards who had emerged with her on horseback to her side with but a gentle flick of a finger.

“Come, No’rien. See my trusted guards, my close companions.” Her voice somehow became even more imperial, a fearful fierceness to it. “Ja’heel. Take off your helmet. Now. Tell him what you would do for me.”

The guard who had come when summoned removed his helmet to reveal a pale, sickly face. The glassy, haunted eyes still had a bit of something to them, like the last signs of a once mighty bonfire, now all but extinguished, only a few soft embers still burning. The man was obviously strong and perhaps even had been charming in appearance at one time, but now his wan and empty face simply horrified No’rien. A deep, but hollow voice emerged from the body, a large dog that now feared its master. “I am Ja’heel, once warrior of the Tym’Narah. I now serve Ra’echelle with my life. I would die for her if she but asked it.”

This was the fate that had awaited No’rien. Despite her words, he felt he had in fact chosen quite wisely. “What do you want with the ogre Ra’echelle? Is this to get back at me for disregarding your offer? Take me, not him.”

A smile appeared on her gorgeous face, but it was not a smile to make others do so, rather it curdled No’rien’s stomach. “I didn’t want you, you elven whelp. This ogre and his beastly herd mates stampeded the royal family! I am the Sorceress Ra’echelle of Tym’Kahal, capital of the Kalori. I seek vengeance for the royal family. We will take this ogre back to the capital and make an example of him. Ja’heel, show him what we will do to the ogre. But give him only a taste!” Her eyes gleamed with an icy cold fire, savoring the upcoming moments.

Ja’hell dismounted and circled behind the ogre, who had been looking on at the exchange somewhat confused. The soldier pulled a heavy coiled object from a thick leather bag at his side. A whip. The ogre’s tough skin should help him somewhat with this pain. But as he looked at the length of the weapon as it uncoiled, like a snake ready to pounce, No’rien’s stomach took another flip inside him. Every few inches was barbed with a small jagged blade the size of a small knife.

Ssssssrrraccccckkkkk! He barely had time to avert his gaze before the first of several painful blows landed on the ogre. The tiny blades stuck in the ogre’s skin, but a hard tug by the soldier cum torturer ripped them free, along with a ragged, deafening roar from the ogre’s mouth.

“Stop!!! Let him go. You know it was an accident, what his people did. Take me in his place!” No’rien, knowing his actions were foolish but helpless to control them, began stepping towards the soldiers, raising his meager knife in preparation of only the gods knew what.

“Stupid fool. Knock him unconscious. You had your chance! Now burn to death!” A soldier quickly came at him and butted him hard on his head with the flat of his sword. The world began to sway about him, fading away as if a candle were sputtering out. His last thought as he collapsed was, yes, she was probably right. The fire had really begun to get out of hand. It should burn him up here in a minute, but on the other hand he might die from the smoke ….

This isn’t fair… It was the only thought he could cling to as he drifted, half asleep. Some small voice at the back of his mind yelled at him to waken, that he was needed. Some ogre of all things needed his help. Ha! An elf helping an ogre? Luckily the yelling voice was distant, subdued, the yell reaching him only as a faint whisper on the winds. This isn’t fair. I’m doing everything right but yet I’m going to die here in these trials, in this strange land I hardly know anything about.

He drifted for some time through a strange, shapeless dreamscape. I won’t give up this easily, he decided. Suddenly he felt as if he were trapped at the bottom of Lake Pyrne near the human castle. He had swam there many times growing up, sometimes diving deep just to see how far he could go. The waters would gradually change from lit, green surface waters to a darker, murkier substance more like ink. His vision would disappear, and his breath running short, No’rien would kick upward towards the wavering light at the surface, gasping for air upon breaking through. Now though, he was trapped somewhere, he felt like he was suffocating, being pushed down. But he fought with all his strength to break free. Finally, he did, lurching up from his collapsed state on the ground, coughing up water, and still surrounded by a grey landscape. Looking around, No’rien was confused at first. He had thought he was dreaming. Was he still in that surreal colorless dream? Had he really been in a lake? Slowly the world came back together around him. The grey resolved into dim trees, and glimpses of clouds and sky above. It was nighttime, and the fire had died down, mainly from the rain and now only smoked heavily. He coughed up more rain water and remembered the terrible fight and its outcome. He had to find G’haran and help him.

No’rien rose to his feet and picked up the sword that had laid next to him in his slumber. Fortunately the rains had come shortly after the fire had begun consuming the vegetation in the area. He must have only passed out from the smoke. Even in the dim light of night, No’rien could see the burned remains of the dead soldiers. How barbaric! They had just left their dead where they lay, no aid to their spirits in their passing by a burial or even a stone cairn. Quickly, almost instinctively he gathered several small stones from the area and built a small pile. Kneeling in the charred grass, the rain pelting his damp woolen clothes, he grasped the earth given by the goddess Ma’ehel to her peoples and asked her to take back these bodies, and to release their spirits to wander free in the night skies.

The proper thing said and done now, he rose and looked about. At least a half day had passed since the fires had begun that morning. He would need to move fast to follow them. Even in his despair however, he couldn’t help letting a small smile creep onto his face. It certainly wouldn’t be hard to find their tracks. Across the clearing from him between two tall oaks, their limbs reaching towards the heavens, the signs of attempting to drag an uncooperative massive creature like an ogre through the undergrowth were apparent. A sapling elm in the shadow of its elder brethren the oaks had been snapped in two, followed by several small scrub brushes completely trampled under. He stepped back into the encompassing shadow of the dark woods and took a deep breath, fresh sylvan air clean of the smoke several yards back. Then, he took off at a lightning fast pace.

Dim shadows of trees blurred by, branches reaching out like hands to grab at his clothes and stop him, beseeching him to stop. They only drove him on faster. His legs seemingly flew from stone to fallen trunk, over a mossy patch, next to a twig that would break. The wood elves could move so fast in the dark forests that some unwelcome visitors proclaimed them ghosts, appearing at will with no sound at all. Animals of this wood saw only a blurring darkness in the dim light flowing between the trees. He carried on like this through the night, stopping only for occasional breaths of air and to check the obvious path of trampled flora that he followed. Finally in the wee hours of the morning he stopped for a short rest. He would be of no use if he became careless and ran right into their group exhausted. Judging by the last signs of the horses the men had been riding that he had seen, they had passed this way only an hour or two ago. Relentlessly, they had driven the beaten and tired ogre on through the night, comfortably riding their equally tired mounts.

Dawn crept across the sky as he began his chase anew in the morning, tendrils of purple and pink reaching through the dark sky like a spider’s web, the fiery red spider which made it soon to follow. More slowly now, No’rien listened intently for signs of the group ahead as he neared what he figured must be their location.

A sound from ahead reached his sensitive ears and brought him to a halt. In the cool morning ear his chest heaved, trying to bring breath back into his winded body. The air escaped his mouth in curly tendrils of vapor before disappearing. What had he heard? There it was again. Someone moaned faintly up ahead. No’rien drew his sword and crept quietly over the fallen leaves and twigs which carpeted the floor of the forest. A shape jerked about ahead in what seemed to be a crossing of paths of some sort. The ground underneath the figure had been severely trampled and churned into rolling mounds of dirt, like choppy waves in some brown sea. The figure still wore some of the orange and black of the Kalori guard. Perhaps G’haran had escaped? Casting one final glance about the shadows between the trees in the area, No’rien deemed himself alone with this evil creature and stepped into the open crossroads.

It was only as he approached the wounded man he realized this was no crossroads. Something had barged through the trees in several directions and plowed right on through to the other side. A large something, or somethings. The man lay in a crumbled heap, one leg protruding out from his side in an unnatural pose, his face bruised and bleeding. Through the dirt and damage to the face, it took him a moment to recognize Ja’heel, Ra’echelle’s loyal soldier.

The one who had whipped and beaten his friend.

“What happened here? And why are you still alive?” No’rien asked him imperiously, hate bubbling up inside him, like a caustic poison overflowing its container.

“Mmrr.. graohhhhffff…” His jaw didn’t seem to be working quite right as it kept moving in strange circular motions as he tried to speak.

“What? Speak up! What happened to the ogre you had prisoner? Where is the rest of your group?” He crouched down and looked the man in the eyes, tempted to gut him right there. Something held him back, a desire for answers, or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“Ogres. Through the wood there…” He lifted a hand and pointed with a broken finger toward one of the newly made paths. “Freed the beast we were taking back. Animals. The rest barely escaped. Go on…kill me now that you have the chance! You consort with ogres…mere beasts!”

“That beast was my friend and he was more deserving of that title than I imagine you have ever been. So his friends helped him out? Good to hear. I assume they went in the direction of the crumpled trees and bushes? Not too hard to track an ogre, I’ve learned.” Standing up, he left the man to examine the various paths in and out of the artificially made clearing, all the trees in the vicinity having been trampled or uprooted to a certain extent. The ogres came in from the west, and a large path led off to the north east. However, several horses had passed to the north and east, and a short ways down had crisscrossed back on to the ogres’ path, at which point the ogres appeared to have broken up to lose their followers. It seemed that G’haran would be safe now with his own kind. He had done what he had promised to do, it was time he got on to figure out what was left for him in the trials. But he still worried that the ogre had been recaptured, this time perhaps with his friends that had helped. He stood from where he had been crouched examining tracks and came back to Ja’heel.

“How many other ogres? How many? Did you see what happened that way? I should kill you for beating a defenseless being like you did!” His last words rose to a near fevered pitch, his sword high in the air, he had every intention of bringing it down on the man’s neck. The fire in him subsided, and likewise the blade came down to rest at his side, swaying as he breathed heavily.

Cursing under his breath, No’rien walked off from the clearing. The man watched him til he faded into the undergrowth, his eyes narrowing, like a rabbit watching a fox, wondering when the attacker would return. Or perhaps more like the panther, lying in wait for the prey to come back in range of its claws.

A few minutes later, No’rien returned carrying a large bowl shaped leaf filled with water and strips of a thick, soft bark. Seating himself in front of the man, he carefully removed both their swords and placed them behind him. He then proceeded to start cleaning the man’s wounds, using the bark like a sponge and the water in the cupflower’s leaf to do his best. The man just sat placidly and watched with perplexed eyes, attempting to figure the trick in the elf’s actions.

“What are you to clean your enemy’s wounds? Kill me!”

“I will if you don’t shut up, by the goddess. I can’t kill you in cold blood. Some of us have something called decency. A strange concept I know. Now sit still, this isn’t going to feel good.” Having finished tying off the more severe of the wounds with strips from the man’s tunic, No’rien twisted the man’s leg to loud growl of pain and tied it to a splint made of a firm sapling’s trunk he had felled while walking.

“There. You can walk now. Get up and help me find the ogres.” He prodded him with his sword, and tossed the other off into the bush.

Grunting at the poke of the blade, the stranger rose and led in the direction of the ogres’ egress. They spent several minutes examining the tracks. All the while No’rien kept an eye on the soldier, and vice versa, each wary of the other’s sudden moves.

The soldier’s voice startled No’rien. “They would try a tactic to confuse the ogres, which prefer to head straight to where they’re going. The beasts…” at a look from No’rien he chose his words more carefully “they, uh, aren’t too savvy at hiding their trails from us. Ra’echelle would have us, I mean them, split the ogres up, have them running in different directions. She only wants one to make an example out of it. She plans to put the head and body of it when she’s done back on the plains where the stampede occurred to remind the ogre’s of her power.”

“Well I can’t save them all. These look like G’haran’s footprints here. If I save him perhaps we can work to find the others.” No’rien motioned with the tip of his blade to get his captive moving then headed off as quickly as he dared after the ogre.

“What on earth are you in with an ogre for, elf? You hate each other from what I know of your kind. Do you owe him something? Did he pay you? The ogres never have any gold that I’ve seen.” The man hobbled after No’rien as quickly as he could, using another limb he had picked up in their tracking to aid as a cane.

“I’m in with him because we’re friends. He needed help, and I saw past his rather intimidating exterior, and the folktales I had in my head of his kind, and decided to help. In this place I’m not exactly brimming with friends and help.” For a moment, No’rien had a sudden urge to ask the guard where this land was that he had never actually met an elf before (hadn’t everyone at least seen one of his kind?) and if he knew of his homeland. But as suddenly as the urge struck him, it vanished, almost as if someone had wiped it from his mind. There were more pressing matters, besides.

“I admire your hopeless ideals, boy. Myself, I stick to my ideals: gold and power. Both of which Ra’echelle has plenty.”

Plenty that she doesn’t share with you for one, No’rien thought to himself. To the guard he spoke “And those ideals got you far when you were down on your luck, didn’t they? My friend is hurt and I pursue after him. I’ve barely known him for a day or more. Your fellow soldiers and your precious lady follow an ogre rather than help you with your wounds.” No’rien gave the fellow an angry look then moved on at a faster pace, just slow enough to keep tabs on the man.

They carried on for nearly a day, breaking at midday to hunt for game in the woods. As they had traveled, the forest had slowly changed, releasing its grip on the earth to more rugged, open terrain. The undergrowth became nearly nonexistent, and the trees sometimes as much as a dozen yards apart. The grasses in between them grew taller, the seas of greens and browns they made up breaking apart for occasional outcroppings of dark brown red rocks. Their eyes carried farther in this open area and No’rien quickly spotted several fowl and rabbits. Ja’heel was little help in the hunt with his bad leg, but he prepared a fire and skinned and cooked the game that No’rien caught. Surprisingly the man seemed made of good character, although his perspective on life seemed warped, most likely by years of service to Ra’echelle, like a fine metal twisted into a cruel instrument of torture, far less beautiful an implementation than could have been made with it.

“We are entering a new land it seems, Ja’heel. Where are we headed?” Not that it mattered much, the elf reflected to himself, by the gods he didn’t know where he was in the first place, but it was as good a conversation topic as any. He felt that speaking to the stranger seemed to bring him out of his shell. With each hour and conversation Ja’heel seemed more a man and less of a ghost haunting a body.

“These are the Elnal Flats. We are leaving the edges of the Woods of Norrick, part of the Kalori’s royal forests. I imagine the ogres were trying to make their way past the flats to hills where they would have better protection, and a good chance of finding their tribe. Unfortunately, the flats go on for a good two days travel, and as you’ve seen we have a good line of sight once we’re truly out of the forest. I imagine they didn’t stand much of a chance unless they broke into a full run.”

“Anywhere else they may have run?”

“Doubtful. If you haven’t seen an ogre break into a full run though you best not count your friend out. I’ve heard they can sustain speeds to outrace a horse for nearly a day. We’ll keep following the signs.”

“And what about you? When you’re healed? Off to join Ra’echelle again?”

Ja’heel looked as if he were about to speak, then let his gaze move off to the distance. Something warred within him and his face showed this. Finally, “No, I had a life before her, and I imagine I can have one again. Perhaps I’ll journey with you? No..I guess that would be strange. Doubtful you trust me at all at this point.”

“You seemed to have made quite a turn around, friend. Unfortunately, I’ll be going on soon, I hope. Back to where I’m from which I believe is some distance from here.”

“You’re not sure where home is? Then how in Mavel’s name do you plan to get back?” Mavel… that was a human god No’rien had never heard of before. He must be a long ways from home. Elnal Flats, the Kalori … where was this place?

“I’m afraid it’s a bit of a strange, long story. Still, I’d be glad for your company. If we do come across your former, uh, employer?” Ja’heel smirked and nodded at the choice of words. “Could you fight her and her men?”

“Definitely. The more time I’m away from her the more I’m thinking clearly. Let’s get going though if we hope to have any chance of catching up with them.” He tossed the last bones of his meal aside and began to stamp out the meager fire they had used to cook.

As the day crawled on, so did they, like insects on the body of a dying carcass, inching along its skin. The rough, hot land out in the flats, exposed to the sun, seemed about as amenable as a dead body. Rough spiky stone thrust out of the dry earth like old bones, and the grasses covered the cracked earth like a fine coat of hair. No’rien shook his head to clear the morbid thoughts.

The tracks were getting older, their chances of catching up to the ogres ever lessening. In the last few hours they had begun to curve back towards the thin woods far to the east, perhaps hoping to catch some shelter as the riders must have neared the ogres. The distant woods were at least closer than the far off craggy hills to the north that the ogres had been originally running towards. At least according to his new companion. Ja’heel certainly seemed to be having a change of heart during the day, but he still did not trust him completely. An amazingly strong constitution, Ja’heel had already removed the splint and now walked with only a slight limp and the use of the trunk/cane he had picked up some time back.

No’rien pulled up short at the top of a slight rise, what lay before him totally unexpected. The flat grassy lands and rough boulders behind him gave way to a totally different environment ahead, only to change again even further back into woodland.

“Ah, the Black Pits. I see you’re not familiar with them. They can sneak up on a fellow. Something to do with the composition of the land around here, sinkholes and such if you listen to the alchemists at all.” Ja’heel had cleared the rise as well and now stood next to No’rien taking in what sat ahead in their path.

The ground steeply lurched downward and the brown, dry earth gave way to a black, broken substance. The steep edge flattened out and ran away in narrow, winding valleys like a maze. It was as if they had been shrunk to the size of a fly and were now seeing the cracks in the dry earth from before up close. And above all else, a horrible stench had begun wafting up as the wind had briefly changed direction.

“And the smell? What is that?”

“You’ll see soon enough. Well…” And Ja’heel reluctantly trailed his speech off as he begun clambering down the slope. “Hopefully, you won’t. Pits of some tar substance. Hence the name. Several of these sinkholes opened up in the flats ages ago leading down into places like this. Puddles of tar sit at the center of each. The land up above, the flats, never was good farm land. These pits are evidence enough if you ask me. But you don’t want to meet the pit dwellers. The ragh – reeeen.” The man made a strange sound in the back of his throat for this last word, a strange, haunting name for what must surely be a pleasant race, No’rien thought.

He cast a last glance about, shading his eyes with his hand, then running it through his long hair, tangled from sweat and dirt of the last few days. “You’re sure they went down in there?” Slowly he followed the soldier’s path down into the pits.

“Not sure of anything anymore. But the trail came this far. These pits are strange. Pick the right path and you’ll be through them in half a day. Pick the wrong one and you’ll go in circles for days.” Giving off the appearance that he apparently knew the correct one, Ja’heel headed off to the left. The dry, crumbled black rock gave few signs of passage, so the trail effectively ended here.

“You know the right path then I take it?”

“No. I have no idea at all.” No’rien could swear he heard a grin in the man’s voice at such a lunatic statement!

Down in the valleys that ran through the earth, he couldn’t help but constantly look up, as if to check that the sky were still there. Having been raised in a village in the trees, No’rien loved the open sky and didn’t have the slightest fear of heights. In fact he couldn’t understand how some humans and dwarves could be afraid of nothing but air. On the other hand, being stuffed into a crack in the earth with only a finger of blue above you to comfort you seemed only a step short of being buried alive. If he had been walking on the corpse of a dead creature as his overactive imagination had earlier thought, then most surely now he was inside the dead beast, soon to join it.

The rough walls were black, but not like the glassy black rock called obsidian he had seen a trader who once came through the village carry. Supposedly from the dark fire mountains far to the west of the elven lands the trader had whispered, although when questioned about those lands the trader seemed to dodge the questions, saying he had obtained the glass pieces from a fellow trader somehow. The obsidian had been beautiful, dark as night, but yet when held to the sun it seemed to open somehow and let the light through. This substance was dark and crumbling off the walls, in places sticky but mostly dry and rough. The strong, foul smell wafted along the corridor like trench and grew slowly stronger as the moved on.

Some hour or two later, No’rien lost in his thoughts nearly stumbled over Ja’heel, stopped in his tracks just before a bend in the path.

“What in Mareel’s bloody name are you…” Ja’heel cut him off by cupping a hand over his mouth.

“Shhh. This is a pit up ahead. You’ve noticed the stench growing? It comes from here. Move behind me, quickly and quietly. The pit dwellers don’t appear to be at this one. That, or they’re asleep in the pit. Come now, quickly.” Ja’heel then moved around the corner and proceeded across the large opening as quickly as his bad leg allowed. No’rien followed right behind him, pleased not to have to meet these “pit dwellers”.

The pit area was a large opening in the crevices, some four or five yards across in either direction. Several fissures opened up off of the area, one of which they were headed towards. In the center of the space was a pool of some thick black substance. Large bubbles slowly rose from the liquid and released both a foul smell and sound when they popped, droplets of the black ooze flying through the air.

Without thinking, No’rien blurted out “They sleep in that waste?” Ja’heel turned on him eyes ablaze with anger.

“They hear well, even through the muck. Quickly now!” Favoring speed over caution, Ja’heel increased his pace the best he could, loose rock kicked about as they hurried to the far side. Apparently, not fast enough.

What at first seemed another bubble rising up out of the muck a few yards ahead of them at the edge of the pit quickly took on another shape. An elf-like shape began to rise out of the goo, black tar dripping off its frame in large globules. As the creature rose out, it leaped forward on to the small trail encircling the rim of the pit. It rose to a full stand, a bizarre and hideous creature to gaze upon. The skin, what could be seen through the black glaze had a dark grey tone. The bulging head sat low and forward on the shoulders, two yellow eyes stood out on the sides of the head, whiskers flicking about its face. The sinewy arms moved as the body flexed from side to side, long webbed fingers ending in sharp, deadly claws squeezed and grasped at the air.

The creature seemed to be evaluating the intruders of its home. The dweller’s lips moved almost as if speaking to itself and the head rocked back and forth, eyelids blinking rapidly as it assessed them.

The voice, once No’rien recognized it for what it was, came rasping out of the body, like a dying man fighting his way out of a dark well. “Preetttyyy elfff. Yeehhhssss.” Its hands came together, fingers intertwining in anticipation. “Come, heeellp you I will.” A gurgling sound followed, No’rien could only guess it was laughter.

“Let us pass. We mean you no harm. Please.” Ja’heel gave him a look like he’d asked a rock if it would kindly get up and move.

“No…coooooommmmmeeee…seeeeeee” Each word hung on the creature’s