The wolves and the lions

[Darksider_war]

"Do you think that all the Traitors are doomed to eternal damnation, father? Could some of them be saved?"

Luthien's then young eyes stopped on Calendil's features, especially on his noble, yet scarred face, constantly adorned with a sarcastic sneer of sorts. Her father simply lit his pipe, starting to puff it vehemently.

"Meh, lassie, I dun' know 'fer sure, a dark one is a dark one an' all 'at crap. I usually leave that talk t' priests and others more inclined 't talk, but still....wanna hear my godsdamned opinion? Methinks that each 'n every elf holds 't seeds of corruption inside his bloody soul. 'Fter all, we did start'd the crown wars, didn't we? So if there's no hope fer 'em, methinks there's no hope fer us too. On 'the other hand, me can'ts afford 'the risk of believin' each 'n every drow claimin' he's "good". So I'd prolly kill them no matter what, just t'be sure. Me gots a 'family 'n folk 't protect ye know? And 'nuff said fer now, I've 't grab some weed 'fer me bitchin' pipe."

Luthien's eyes blinked twice, as the priestess returned to the present, angrily staring at the two drows standing in front of her. One heavily armored and masked, the other wearing but clothes and a scarf covering her features. Up in the sky, the moon was shining over the small gathering, the small drow dressed in green gazing in marvel at the sight of the star.

The mere sight of a drow was often enough to provoke in her a sudden surge of homicidal instinct. After all, she did lose much to the hands of the traitors. Yet, on the other hand, she couldn't forget that drow she saved months before...at a cost of a fragment of her own soul.

She wasn't a murderer. Killing innocents, be their skin fair or charcoal black, was not something that she could do light heartedly. In fact, she was probably totally uncapable of doing such a thing.

On the other hand, anger and hatred clouded her judgment. She wasn't capable of valuating the both of them objectiveli. On the other hand, she had a friend somewhere above that could pass such a verdict objectively.

The two were escorted to a fireplace, Luthien's trusted friend Mendel keeping an eye on them both, ready to kill them in case they would have done something funny. Luthien just sheated her sword, strapping her shield to her back. She breathed deep, her golden bronze skin almost reverberating as she formulated a few words in celestial. A flash of azure light blinded everyone's sight for a splitsecond, before a mighty, proud and noble angelic being appeared in front of the gathering. Her friend and ally Myzrael, proud archangel sworn to protect Arvanaith, stood in front of the two drows, his mighty and noble wings compounding his aura of holyness.

Myzrael's sight was something Luthien was used to, and yet, his holyness, his proud features always lightened both her mood and her soul. She bowed her head towards him, before respectfully speaking to him in the elven tongue.

"Mighty Myzrael, defender of Arvanaith, this servant of the Seldarine has summoned thee because her judgment is clouded by anger and hatred. Are these two drow the same of their dark brethren, or are their souls free of taint?"

The angel fixed his benevolent gaze upon the two drows, his holy sight piercing their very soul and staring inside their hearts. After a brief moment, he answered, his voice ringing melodiously like a violin and pure like a choir of children.

"No evil inhabits the souls of these two lost children of the Seldarine, priestess. You should know well what it is expected of you now."

The angel smiled briefly at all those gathered, before simply disappearing and returning to his plane of origin. Now absolutely sure, Luthien's breath and muscles quickly relaxed.

Now more at ease, the four of them talked for an entire night, each teaching to the other something about their way of life and their gods. Luthien's only regret was that she couldn't do much to help them or their kin down below. She had her own people to tend to, even if most of them were naught but ignorant, mewling, arrogant backstabbing children. The two dhaerows wondered in amusement at how subtle was the naming difference of the moon between humans and elves. For humans the body was Selune, for Elves it was Sehanine, Eilistraee's adoptive daughter.

Her plump lips curled in amusement at the tought. Under certain aspects, her father was indeed right when he said that each and every elf is potentially an aspiring drow.

Even more amusing to her was the fact that with that action she risked of being declared a traitor and executed for treason against the Folk. Luthien rubbed her neck for a few seconds, stiffling a chuckle at the thought of having a lot less below her neck. On the other hand, she pushed her luck so many times, she would certainly be dead had it not been for sheer luck and, perhaps, the Seldarine's favour.

She told them about her "daughter", the one she has saved at such a dire cost, asking Chalitra to give her a kiss and a symbol of Hanali, to make her remember that the elven gods had not forgotten their lost children.

Aye, apart from the pigmentation differences of the skin, the two elves were very similar. Chalitra, perhaps, was even better than Luthien herself. The two of them both were on an almost hopeless crusade, fighting for their own people's salvation, even if the people wouldn't have cared. The only difference was that Chalitra's resolve hadn't been dented as Luthien's.

Yet, braving the dangers of the road connecting the underdark with the surface, just to show the moon to one of her faithful for the first time, was something that Luthien would have surely done herself, had she been in Chalitra's place.

The only difference was the harshness of their environment, an environment that doesn't spare the weak, or the kind, or the merciful. They were like wolves, uncomfortably in the middle of the food chain, a tightly knit pack of brothers and sisters tending to each other to survive the Great Dark below.

The surface elves were the lions, always at the front of the fight for survival, even if their cubs wouldn't care, fighting almost alone without considering the implications very much.

Two faces of the same medal, a thing that didn't surprise Mendel or Luthien, not even a bit. For there was a time, before the Change, when all elves lived in the surface free. That was a long time ago, but perhaps the fratricidal war would have ended, someday.

The coming of a few people, unfortunately, interrupted the conversation. There was so much she wanted to discuss, much to talk about, but the encounter couldn't have lasted long. Not so close to Doron anyway. Luckily for the four, it was Hoihe, in company of Eowen and another elf.

Pretending to be on the alert for drow - which wasn't so far from the truth - the priestess enveloped both her and her two dark cousins in a sanctuary effect. Then, it was easy to convince them that everything was fine. From a certain point of view, it was.

While Mendel stayed behind, the three of them ventured out of Sharpteeth, with Luthien escorting them both to Durlag's tower. A dangerous place leading to an equally dangerous journey, journey that required the courage of a lion to undertake.

A sage once said,
"If a person doesn't put an end to his wars, then his wars will put an end to him".
Somehow, the elven priestess managed to put an end to her war.

Bidding the two eilistreeans farewell, and blessing them in the name of the Seldarine, Luthien returned to the campfire, her lips curled again in a very faint smile. For if the other elves were to discover what had just happened, she would have been dead. And like a wolf, she needed to stick to her packmates to survive.

The irony of life wasn't lost on her, since the roles had been reversed.

(thanks to all of you guys, yesterday's night was amazing!)