Elerrina

Prologue

The sun was hiding behind the mountains, painting the sky bright red, its last rays already fading, leaving the earth to the darkness of the night. A great silence fell upon the lands, as if the world itself lamented the tragedy that had taken place that day. The dying sun stained the cloudless mantle in the  bright crimson of blood, blood that had spilled innocently. She could feel the soft breeze brushing against her skin, drifting with it hollow cries of torturous pain and sorrow for those who had left the world to join the mourning souls in death.

It felt cold. The icy wind made her skin almost ache. But this was a different kind of coldness: coldness of death. She looked at her surroundings feeling her agonizing heart  skip a beat as she slowly made her way through the deep forest. Grey trees rose tall to the sky, the red light of the fading sun making them look hollow in the dark shadows, tall black ghosts that branched and webbed in eternal suffering. Corpses laid spread on the ground; their eyes staring blankly at the sky, some of them still with a pained expression upon their faces. Both elves and orcs laid dead on the cold earth. The  red and black blood spilled among them, elven and orc as one pool of bright liquid.

Naeraviel took a hand to her mouth stifling a chocked cry. She could felt the sorrow in the atmosphere, the pain, the suffering. The air was heavy and she had a knot in her throat, making it harder to inhale breath. How many had died innocently in that battle. How many lay dead on the ground, their souls already gone to the world of the dead, eternally abandoning this forsaken cruel world. None of them would ever see the sun rising again in the horizon; none of them would see the stars shining at nights again. 

Tears prickled in her eyes and she found it hard not to cry as she saw that not only warriors had been victims of the battle. There were ladies among them. Their long rich dresses muddied and ripped, the jewels incrusted in many of them still shimmering bright at the last rays of daylight, ever beautiful, ever hard and cold, ever lifeless.

From what she could guess the elves had been ambushed by the orcs while traveling somewhere. She could see many ornate wooden chests spilled messily around, the precious items inside scattered as raggedly as the lifeless bodies. The battle had taken place just hours ago, the blood was still fresh.

The nearby village where she lived had heard the commotion, as if the wind had made an effort to cry for help, and the men had rushed  to aid the injured but found none. And yet they encountered  just the scene she was seeing now. They arrived too late, nobody still drew breath. They had gone back to the village with heavy hearts, dragging their feet on their way, but she had stayed behind.

Naeraviel had never seen elves before. She had always imagined the moment. She imagined herself looking at those majestic creatures full of eternal grace. Elves were not meant to die. For her, elves had always been a symbol of life and glory, they were immortal. But now, looking at them dead, all sign of life gone fromm them made her heart grieve.

A soft cry was brought by the wind. Naeraviel stopped in her march,  suddenly listening to the sound. It was unmistakably the soft wail of a baby. For a moment she felt her heart starting to beat again, panic rushing through her veins as she frantically listened and searched the source of the cry. It came from some bushes at her left. Quickly she made her way there, kneeling on the damp earth, not even noticing as her brown worn dress got stained on the process. Behind the thick green leaves laid a baby wrapped in a white silken blankets, the fabric of richness that her own eyes had never even seen. The baby stopped her wailing the second she saw Naeraviel, fat silver tears streaming down her prays cheeks.

Without thinking it twice she picked the baby in her arms, careful to keep the protective blanket around, as if fearing the cold night air could harm this precious sign of life. The tinny form of the little girl comforted her heart somehow. A tinny form of life among the dead.

She took a look at the child. It was elven. Her few golden locks shined at the fading light of the day and a pair of bright green eyes stared deeply back at her.

"Have faith young one." She said more to herself that the child for she doubted that the little girl could understand what she said. "You were blessed with life when others were forced to leave us forever. Although cursed for you lost everything you had today. Unfortunate child who was chosen to see what would cause her grieve and pain for the rest of her life."

She sat on the ground placing the squirming child in her lap. In the standards of men the young girl could have any one year old baby.  "You'll be brave little one." The child looked up at her at the sound of her voice, those oblivious deep green eyes making her heart fill with sorrow. The child was too young to understand anything of what was happening. 

"Nana!" The baby suddenly exclaimed, her deep green eyes searching around her as her tiny fingers went into her mouth. Naeraviel felt the knot in her throat tighten. She could not tell what word meant, she did not know the tongue of elves, but she oddly understand that a child this young would only be able to say essential words. It either was mother or father. She let her own eyes scan the sea of corpses lying motionlessly around her, trying to find anyone who might have been related to the child. 

And it did not take her long to look. There, not too far away from where she had found the baby lay the pale corpse of a beautiful elven lady.  Her golden locks, identical to the child's ones, fell lifelessly on the ground, her green eyes staring blankly at the sky: Dead.

"Nana!" Called the child again, although her eyes had not seemed to find the place corpse yet, and she shielded the child's face with a hand.  The child didn't know death, she didn't know that her mother would never talk to her again, never again would she hold the child in her arms and comfort her. she had passed away.

"Come here, child" Said Naeraviel picking up the child again and rocking her slightly.

"Your mother is not coming back, little one" She spoke. Her voice braking and more tears running down her cheeks. "She left. She's not coming back."

The little girl raised her tinny hands to Naeraviel's face patting curiously at her cheeks. The child could not understand.  A small laugh left Naeraviel's lips at the gesture. Such innocence, so much still to see, to learn, and she had no idea that her world had suddenly been snatched from her in a single dreaded afternoon.  She found she couldn't leave the baby there.

"You need a home," She said. "and a name." The green eyes stared at her again. Then she made a choice. She would not take the child to Argala, she would not entrust this already cursed girl to the woman who fostered already more than then orphans in the small village. No. She would raise her as her own, show her all the love her parents could have shown her if they had lived. Luckily she would forget the tragic events of that day and would be able to live happily and untroubled.

" What do you say about going home with me? I can find you something to eat and drink" the baby girl inclined her head to one side a confused looked in her eyes.

 She held the peaceful baby closer to her body. Night had already fallen; she saw the stars bright in the black sky, showing their light to the world.

"You need a name." She said to the child, thinking out loud. And she knew that whichever name she chose would never make justice to the elven name the child had been given at birth. But she could not guess a name, she would have to make up a new one. At the silver light from the shimmering stars the green eyes of the girl shined with a beauty that could not be described by words, green as the living forest. Her golden locks shined as fit the stars form the heavens had been placed on her head like a crown. How beautiful was the child, she had never seen something so graceful. The it occurred to her, the perfect name for the blessed child.

"You'll be Elerrina: 'Crowned with stars'"

Love, 

Elena