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[howandwhy99]

The story continues…

And so the first world ended, with a Fae princess fainting out of a shuttered window she had just opened onto a traveling merchant's hay cart as it was leaving the castle. Now in most stories the cart would be driven by the same father who sired her all those years ago and we would have a happy ending with her finally finding acceptance among the ones she would come to know as Elves. And anyone who knows the elves would probably laugh themselves onto the floor at the prospect of that image. Neither of these ended up being the case. The merchant who found her at least had the pity to give her to an orphanage.

Now one might think that a girl who had been raised blind in a formless darkness constantly being beaten by faceless voices might have some trouble adapting to a daylit world with creatures who had long ago mastered the art of sight as a way of navigation. They would be correct. And so she began life once again as if from the womb. No way to communicate, no way to understand this new world. All these strange new rules in a game you have no idea how to play. Even though the world was new there was so much to incorporate she had no idea how to start. And so once again she was as a child. And as a half breed from the Fae lands she was less common than even the half humans, so again she was at the bottom of the pecking order. But slowly she evolved. It only took her about a hundred more years to relearn everything she thought she knew.

Eventually she learned of the Fae and their nature and the elves and their nature until again she became bored and left. This time though she had learned about these things called RULES. Apparently in the world of the elves you didn't simply murder your siblings to advance in the world. You had to do something to live other than simply being too much effort to kill. So before she was allowed to leave she was examined to see what she was good at. Her childhood had left her body too broken to be an archer and the mages feared what her Fae blood might do to their magics. The priests would not accept her since they did not recognize her blood as that of a noble house. Thankfully however the woods folk would, though many feared such "nobility", they agreed her talents would be wasted otherwise. So she left to be with the folk of the woods. Strange tall creatures with rounded and semi-tipped ears and eyes called "humans" and "half-humans". Calling them half-elves in her presence one seemed to confuse everyone. Oddly enough it wasn't the Elven blood made her trainers feel a kinship to her. It was the lack of its purity. So they trained her, and showed her how to use her natural talents to enhance those she learned. She began to feel strange things among these semi-tipped ears. But before she could investigate her feelings the war came. Warriors were asked for, and she was sent. Feelings were strange things to her; she needed time to ponder what they were. This "war" sounded like she might have a chance to think. It sounded like a lot of people training at once.

Again, words are inadequate to describe the situations as alien as they were to her, as alien to us as she is. Picture, one who grew up around death and carnage, was then shown it in senses she had never used to understand it before; reevaluated with a mind that had been unable to comprehend the actions taken around her before. And in the blink of an eye (less than a year), she was sent away. She wasn't sure why she was chosen, but wondered if it might be due to her nature. It tended to make the non-elves uncomfortable, at least the ones who did not know her. She was told to get weapons, get reinforcements, GET HELP! Go to the West, help was in the lands to the west.

So she rode. Not soon afterwards she was pursued. But a pack of the green things*but bigger and orange*and on wolves*only those were bigger too. And she rode. They captured her. They tortured her. Foolishly they thought this would break her, rather than calm her down and clear her mind. Childhood memories often have that effect. And she escaped. They pursued and they fell behind. Eventually she felt she had lost them. She crossed the mountains and lost the last of her water in the process. And still she rode on. Word must get out. These armies could not be allowed to continue. All they sought was to destroy. She knew now this was wrong and some things were different than herself. Some things were worth something. And so she rode on, over hill and dale, her horse becoming as exhausted as she. Perhaps it was luck that her angle of entry brought her a few miles outside of a goblin occupied town instead of through it. And still she rode. Even as delirium of days without water set in. She rode on until she saw a campfire. It must be a good sign. All of the enemies could see in the dark. She placed her horse a distance away to give the poor creature a chance to rest and stumbled toward the light. In the light she saw only despair, there was an orc, silhouetted against the firelight. It called out to her in a gruffly accented common. She asked those who she had failed for forgiveness. She was wrong and she had not the strength to continue, only the hope of help had gotten her this far. And so she collapsed, despair at last claiming victory over her fatigue wracked body. As she lay unconscious a voice told her "Be well for you are restored" and she awoke to a face full of long kinky red hair.

And so she brought news