Roots

The weeding for Hastur Firemane the Lame and Alisha, following the tradition of the wild elves of Al’Jathis, lasted for three days.

While the first day was the public union of wife and husband, the next day, while the guests of the marriage continued with the party and festivities, the newly married couple secluded to themselves, giving them in such way time for their souls to become a single one. Finally, the third way, it was seen according to their culture, that the two elves returned as two parts of a same thing.

Since the return of the last daughter of Al’Jathis, Fluffy –or as know by her people, Naemae-, she had meet again many people who said to remember her from her early childhood. Uncles, aunts, cousins, and a lot of other familiar relations which had their own specific elven name, but which meaning Fluffy ignored. Living so much more than the orcs she normally lived with, elves had much more clear the familiar links between different individuals of a community, reason why such words existed, specially in a community like once was al’Jathis.

Incapable of remembering all the specific relations, Naemae just called them Aunt, uncle or cousin, while smiling to them.

Many where rather intrigued about the last of the lost daughters of Al’Jathis, and asked Fluffy question after questions… so when the Chief Hunter asked her to come along, to talk with her, during the second day of the marriage of Hastur, Fluffy did so, following the male elf.

They walked away from the palace of the Manwë, into the small village where the servants of the state lived. While on her travels as a slave of the dwarven caravan of Wrall & Son Stone Trade Company Fluffy did saw many buildings, villages, palaces and fortresses, she had always see them just as she passed bye, and never living in them. And so, she always wondered what would be living in one of these stone houses, like the ones build in the Thilien architectural style.

“Here” said the Chief  Hunter, pointing one of the larger buildings of the village, but otherwise similar looking to the other stone houses.

However, as soon Fluffy entered on it, she was hit by memories of a past self, she thought she had forgotten. She looked around, but instead of the stone walls, the interior of the house was of wood and crafted wooden pillars, the dirt floor partially covered in carpets, with some carpets and other decorations hanging from the walls. But what made her remember more, was the smell… the smell of a forgotten home.

“Young Naemae” said a voice in the shadows, near a dying fire. Fluffy looked in her direction, seeing a very old elf woman, sitting. “Come here by my side, so my tired eyes can give you a better look.”

Fluffy did so obediently, and compelled with a hand gesture, she sat by the side of the elder.

“My my, how quick the younglings grow! You are all an elf lady now!” the elder said, while Fluffy looked around the building… why it was so familiar to her?”

“The Mistress of the Palace didn’t wanted us to build our houses in our traditional style” explained the Chief Hunter, as he sat by the side of the two elven women. “However, we build our communal hall, from inside, to be like our own in the old al’Jathis.”

Fluffy smelled the hair. The scent, of some flowers, wild plants, cooking and herbs, made her remember some images of her lost home. As she saw the old elf smile, she knew that the surging of these memories was something wanted by her.

“Here, have some tea, dear” the elder elf said. “It will be good for your memory. Both for remembering and for keeping what will be said.”

This time, what gathered the Chief Hunter and Akhara, the elder of the tribe, wasn’t simple curiosity. For long hours, Akhara spoke to Naemae, telling the epic of their people.

From how their first ancestors, first looked to the stars when Gods Walked on Aiers, and how they cowered in fear, during the War of the Gods. Then, she told her how these distant ancestors decided to march, leaving their first homelands of forgotten name that where turning into a frozen swamp, to crossing the bridges of screaming ice, and how after a long migration, they arrived to their new home, in the gentle lands of Haelfinel. There, their ancestors thrived, and the first stones of civilization where set. She told then the names of the heroes, of the long past elven wars that ragged in the old continent, between the High Elves and the terrible Hakes of Doom. As the elven wars ended, their ancestors needed a new quest, which will be the one of conquering a world, the gods had granted to them. They crossed the seas, and fighting orc, beast-men and dark elf alike, they proud ancestors founded the kingdom of Antariel, having rightfully claimed the plains of Antor, once a rich land.

She was told then of the arrival of the sky people, the humans… and as well, of the treacherous actions of the invading orcs.

Then, Naemae learned of the Fall: the Fall of Antariel, and the other High elven kingdoms of Zarhuy, one by one, as they where too few to face the invaders, and to prideful to ask for help, and to give it to their former rivals of the other high elven kingdom and colonies.

She learned of fallen cities, sacked palaces and burned lands, of enslavement and decimation of their people, and how no refugee or safe haven was left for the survivors of Antariel, but to become errant nomads of the plains, that consumed by the orc horde, had become barren.

This was the epic, as Akhara eared it from her elders, in the same way her elder then young, learned it from her elders, and so on until the Time When Gods Walked on Aiers.

Then, she told her what she had lived, and what she had learned. How the errant survivors had become tribes, and how these tribes came to settle down in a territory by them claimed. She was told, how Al’Jathis was founded, and how it looked like. Who where her ancestors, and her family: their people, and their customs, and in such way, Fluffy was told who was her, Naemae, named in such way as namesake of her aunt Naemae, so her spirits lived by her, carried in her memory, as their ancestors was carried in the memory of their descendants.

Then, Naemae learnt about the raid and destruction of Al’Jathis, and the survival of their people, transplanted to Thilien.

“These are my words, and the words of our ancestors. Remember them, so they may live by with you” Akhara said, as she finished her tale.

Fluffy, who now was as well Naemae not only for Hastur, but for herself, nodded to the elder elf.

“Now dear… what you can tell of you? Hastur and Alisha had toll us some parts of it, but we want to hear a bit more? How did you survive so long in your own?”

“Well, I wasn’t on my own always” Naemae said. “For much, I had my clan, who protected and helped me” she said, thinking of her orc family. “Slavery with the dwarves was hard and difficult… but it was interesting, nonetheless! But then, I was liberated, and now I’m married and are again with my clan!” she added with a smile.

“My poor dear! Must have been so hard…” said Akhara.

“Your clan?” asked the Chief Hunter, thinking that after the wars against the Orc Queen,  there remained no Wild elven clans in the north bank of the Great River, but only the brave orc hunters bands who dared to venture there, and some errant elves.

“Yes!” said Fluffy, thinking in her orc family.

“And you live in the north bank of the Great River?” the Chief Hunter asked interested. “And which is the name of your clan?”

“Yes! However, our village was destroyed by some raiders not long ago, and many where lost” told to them Fluffy, remembering the elven orc-hunters. “and my clan is the Wargh!”

“Damn  raiders” said the Chief Hunter, thinking in the orcs. That’s why, no Wild elven villages where to be found anymore in the north bank. “the Warg’ael clan? I hadn’t heard about it before” he added, as he tried to remember the different wild elven nations.

“Many of us survived the raid” Fluffy said, seeing the worried face of the Chief Hunter and Akhara. “We retreated to the swamp, where Uncle Ha-hu and the Goat-elf live. It have been hard, but we are getting by!”

“Uncle Ha-hu?” asked the Chief Hunter.

“Hastur” said Akhara, making it clear. “And the Goat-elf? You mean, the White Hermit is still alive?”

“The last time we saw him, at least!” Fluffy said. “He is on a journey, and left us settle down in his swamp island!” –or she think he said they could settle there, Naemae thought. She really didn’t remember if he said that or not, but Mataelfo said it was implicit, so she took his word for good. He knows what he does!-
“In the swamp near al’Jathis? And is safe there for your clan?” the Chief Hunter asked interested.

“Very safe! … well, not so much. The swamp can be tricky, but precisely because of that is safe against raiders!” explained Fluffy. She didn’t remembered much of it when Mataelfo explained her the defensive qualities of the swamp island, and she didn’t understood much of it either, but she remembered well how her husband assured her, it was safe.

The Chief Hunter pondered her words. An elf settlement, near the ruins of al’Jathis? It was safe? When destroyed, al’Jathis was poorly defended. Living by the terror caused by the shadow of Hastur the Lame to the orc warbands, they forget that vigilance was the price of freedom, and they left the walls decay. In many nights, he wondered how different would have been, if they had proper defenses in that fatidic night. Would the orcs even try to attack a better defended village? Would they have been able to repel them?

In the past years, since the destruction of al’Jathis, they seeked for refugee in Thilien, the high elven controlled lands. When the High elves launched their wars against the unified orc horde under the Orc Queen, many of the young survivors of al’Jathis joined the armies marching against the Queen of the Orcs, hoping to claim back the lost lands, Some even dreamed, of founding again the elven kingdoms of Antor.

But as the Orc Queen defeated one after one the armies of the High elves of Vanilion, Nortolon and Rhonion, of the wild elves and of the savage elves, the armies of the human kingdoms and of the Dwarven Confederation of Kaiehm and the banners of the Orange Sun, such hopes where lost.

And as the allied armies retreated, the Orc Horde under their Queen marched to the south, over Thilien, and again the refugees of Al’Jathis had to abandon their haven, retreating to the south, to Vanilion.

When the Orc army stopped at the gates of Vanilion, without any reason, disbanding and the orc queen disappearing in the dust, they found surprised the Manwë state wasn’t sacked or destroyed by the ravaging Orc Horde… but the north bank, had become since then, orc lands.

But an elven settlement in the swamp, near al’Jathis? An island in the swamp heard like it was an excellent refugee. A place where his people could again become proud descendants of Antariel, rather than servants of the vanili. To become again hunters, and that a tittle as his own –Chief Hunter- had a meaning, rather than being Toy Makers, and poachers if they hunt the game, reserved to the masters of Thilien…

And what if?...

“Naemae… Do you think your people will be willing to receive us, the people of al’Jathis, among them?”

“What are you thinking?” asked Akhara to the Chief Hunter. Was he returning again with his fantasies of claiming back al’Jathis? …but she couldn’t avoid to think as well, how nice would be to see the land that was so dear to her again… and to be buried along with her ancestors and family, rather than in a foreign land, when her time come…

“We will do our part of course, and will be working hard!” the Chief Hunter said

“Of course they will like it!” said Fluffy. Orcs always appreciated when they hadn’t to actually work, and leave it to somebody else to work for them!

“Thanks” the Chief Hunter said. It was something that was going to need much more meditation, and the approval of all the survivors of al’Jathis… but he knew, many where tired of the life of servitude, and would be willing to take the risks to return to their appreciated freedom, and their former lands…