I did not shoot for length, but all good articles have depth and presence. I hope this does not shy you away.************************************************************************************************************************************************
The wolf lay upon the bearskin rug in a comfortable wedge of light slumber and contentment when it heard movement just outside the main door to the cottage. Just as he was about to alert his keeper, a soft knock lightly tinned the heavy door. The old human said a soft word at his wolf to calm him. Placing a large stein on the small table next to his fireside chair and slowly stood. 'Who could possibly be out here in the wild lands?' he questioned to himself. 'It must be a weary adventurer, or sort like them,' the old man offered to himself in response. He arrived at the door, opening it he saw the strangest sight his eyes had seen in ten years; a very elvish baby held by a gnome that had died in the same moment.
"I am old, F'wenith. Once I was a servant to the whims of the Forest Queen, but I fear she will be calling for me soon enough," the grey haired man spoke to the ageless elf in a light tone.
"The way of age has many gifts. I become aware of this for I lack them," the elf replied. "The child is strong willed and has good life in her soul, but I think it best that she come to learn from her own people."
Bent as if a battle field was in siege, pride and faltering independence seemed to become a visible illustration in the weathered man's face. "Alas, it tears my mind and heart to-" he was cut off by the voice of a girl.
"Are you selling me, like we do our trappings?" the voice was both flat and unemotional. The two men turned from the fire and saw the girl wearing sleeping robes as she stood in the corridor.
The speed in which he pushed her to travel on foot was chastising. But she would be punished further if she fell behind, maybe even forced to gather her own end meal again. She wanted the meats her Caretaker had in his small pack. She pushed herself to run faster. Only seven hundred leagues until they reached the City of Splendors, only a month until they must meet the docks. Only eleven days until she was ten seasons. She lost her footing. I must run faster! Stay steady, breathe, and focus. It feels good, now watch where F'wenith weaves. I know his ways by now. Steady...
"You have no name?" the woman asked her in the common speech laughing, "What do they call you?"
"The Master and Caretaker are the only people I have ever known. They call me daughter." she felt awkward for the first time in her life and it was not pleasant. She began to shake.
"This is no good, child. I am called Andreasa, and I will call you Andreava from this on. I think I should look after you for awhile," her speech trailed off into smiles and laughter.
"V-venulanus," the girl stammered and stumbled over the elvish word like a stone turned in the road.
"It is called the Green Isle by most and we shall stay here for a time. Outsiders are not typically accepted into the lands, but we are cousins," the half-elven woman educated the child.
"As you say, Lady Andreasa," the sea was making her ill again, she could feel it. Oh no.
"As a priestess to The Protector, we shall go to see the face of his Green Land together, and you shall study with the sun elves to learn the history of your people and the whole of the realms as I do the bidding of His pilgrimage." she laughed and there was sweetness in the air.
The children had formed a circle around the elven girl and had been laughing for some time now just as another spoke up. "The headmaster says that it takes your kind nine components to cast a simple light spell!" the girls and boys erupted with laughter. It did not matter what they said as long as it was hurtful in some fashion. "...only strong enough for a pixie!" another chimed in. This was the way of it now. Why would they never accept me as an equal? Master Heniomin told us that many green elves claim to be the firstborns? What if they were right? What if we chose to live with the land and not against it?
"This is unacceptable!" the Headmaster came walking up angrily from the eastern gardens. "All of you clear away now. NOW!" he threatened as they scattered. They would taunt her again as being the headmaster's pet. There was no end. The man walked up to the girl at a fast pace, obviously concerned.
"I should go, I have to look over the maps from last week before the test," she said with her head lowered. Taking a sprint she ran towards the outskirts of the school grounds in tears and ashamed.
"…and we are impressed with your progress in your studies, Andreava, for seven years you have been in high standings with even the collage of mages. Perhaps you should begin a new study?" the council glared at her as the headmaster spoke in the hearing. "But your actions speak of disharmony and must be answered to; after all, you are still our guest in these lands." Andreava looked at them, each in turn, uncertain of their decision. She did not want this any longer. She stood up and just walked out of the room vowing never to come back to the grounds again.
"The only key is to get what you have your eye on and not to get caught. Instinct should guide your wit and stay your hand. OR they will take it off," the young elf spoke to her with such interest and confidence she almost forgot her task. She came to again. "Andreava, are you even listening to me?"
"Oh, ye-yes. AYE! I will be back" she slipped away and began the casual walk to the merchant's table. She acted to look with a typical elvish frown and then, began the discussion. "Five silver for these rags? I give my servants more stunning gowns. How insulting you are!"
"A Mistress of your beauty can have it for four. I will always keep you in good graces," the rather scrawny looking elven man said to her, obviously attracted to her very pronounced features in the dress she wore.
"And you insult my line. I am a Windsong," she said. Maybe that lie was too far?
"W-w-well, my LADY!" the merchant was stunned and began to compose him in a different manner. Now was her queue. She wrapped the fine bracelets around her wrist in one smooth motion, one after another.
"I will forgive you and I will take you at two silvers'" she dropped the two coins on the table with her untainted hand and, taking the silk dress, she moved away in a sultry walk.
The man took her behind the old oak and began to laugh hard. "You are the loveliest thief in all the realms, Andreava! Three thousand gold for each! A good day for us," he fell back into the care of the rooted seat like a natural. She was in love.
"We charge the wild elf, whom is currently a GUEST in our country and not fully accepted into the peace of Evermeet, known as Lady Andreava, to falsely claim royal blood and the act of stealing a sum of seventeen platinum fine chain bracelets decorated with flawless stones, to be torn apart by spell fires if not one will claim her to a house," the elder shouted for the whole valley to hear. The silence was a poison. It ate her mind and pierced her guilt. She was alone, as she had always been. Her love abandoned her, the only mother she knew was nowhere to be found, and now this. A fine end for such a useless life. "Is there none?" the elder shouted some thirty minutes later.
A weak call that could be scarcely is heard carrying words to the valley. She looked to see: in hope and fear, and disgust, and hatred. She looked. One form, no three forms' were fast approaching and continually calling to the meet. "...waaaait..." and a, "....stop..." were now heard by all. By the gods, someone was actually going to claim her. It was actually four figures, an elven man in yellow, a small maiden in red riding a bear, and another, Andreasa.
"We come to claim the outcast," the woman on the bear said with authority.
"By the name of Sumbrar! Mistress Windsong, is this your mind?" the Elder was astonished.
"Aye, the mages and clerics may examine me," she said with a wind that came like the cool breeze of summer to Andreava’s ears. "If she wants to claim our name, she will understand what respect will come with it. I intend to demonstrate how one may become proud. I release you, now Andreava Windsong. You are now mine to answer for. Come, child" the woman spoke with such wisdom and understanding in her voice. She was enchanted.
She came to from the meditation. The vision came again. THAT vision. Since she had turned thirty she had seen the sight every meditation. Nine times now? And each time a little more was seen; a little more made sense. There was a pool and she was sleeping by it. A weird rose out of it like a giant serpent and began to command her in a strange tongue. Then the trees began to quake as if some unseen wind or enemy shook them with fear. When the leaves fell, the ground was frozen in a sheet of ice, and upon the pool stood two massive piles of leaves and earth. The piles unfolded into a score of dryads, whispering to her all at once in chaos. The dryads began to laugh at her in a cruel way. Laughter morphed into shrieks of pain. The dryads exploded into a rain of fire and earth. Through the settling of falling leaves a panther looked to the face of the vision and attacked all of a sudden. What could this mean?
"Come now, Andreava, we must not be late for the departure of the merchant's vessel, Taloon," the half-elf said in a hurried manner.
"Yes, mother," replied the elven girl with a load so high in her arms she could not see where she walked.
"Careful with those now! Since I could not BUY a servant hand because of some little brat's restitution, I think it to be a fitting task for one of your beauty." the older woman slung the bad memory and taunt behind her.
"Yes mother," replied the annoyed girl. "But where are we going now? You still have not told me," she begged for the hundredth time that morning.
"A small village known as Hamlet, it is a human village away from Evermeet, my daughter," she said in a tone suggesting that she had been defeated finally in their little game.
"I wonder how humans live," thought the girl Andreava aloud.
"This-a be were you stayin now, Lady Elven and Lady Half-elven," the smile of the grotesque innkeeper was black with decoration of rot and splashes yellow.
"And we thank you for such a fine room," the half-elf said with pure gratitude.
"...aye..." was the best Andreava could say. It was plainly covered in mice droppings, lice filled hay beds and lacked window or anything better than a wooden stool and table.
"O-ye the best for ye-s," the thing spoke and brought horror images of the other rooms downstairs. The door closed and they were alone.
"I will bless the droppings and make them clean," the mother said laughing.
"How long are we staying here," Andreava questioned it without actually choosing to speak the words.
“About five to ten years. I must see how the temple grows," the half-elf said as if it were a picnic party.
She pushed open the tavern door. Everyone turned to see who it was that made such a disturbance so early. She stretched like someone had just awoken and yawned stupidly. She began to laugh and said "Sorry about that," and the twenty some people that were seated shook their heads and turned back to breakfast.
"Fine wine, mossgrass soup, honey loaf, and jam. All here for you, Miss Windsong," called a plump man with an apron on, just loud enough to speak over the crowd's chatter.
"And for you sweet, sweet Norber I offer you these," said she with a smile that shone like starlight. A fistful of wild flowers she laid upon the bar before sitting to eat for the day.
"We shall honor the scent!" Norber exclaimed in a true tone.
"This is grand. May your tavern smell sweet and your dishes taste even sweeter," the elven girl laughed in glee as was sport in this time for her.
"Yes, yes, yes, you are a welcome patron anytime, gold or no," he said with a smile and wagging finger, “but I must confess this to ye," his tone grew very serious and very uncharacteristically of the cook. "On the peak of night someone came looking for you. Said his name to be Narflair, from the Great Forest, he did say, and others have said they see him snooping around in the barns and such at night, a very unwholesome thing of sorts!" said the ruffled owner.
"I do not know of any that know of me in these lands, I am just a servant girl to a pilgrimage priestess," she reasoned to herself as if to banish the words.
"Well, whoever he is I advise you stay clear of such as this," said he matter-of-factly
"I thank you for this news, no matter how startling," she began and ended. Care was tossed aside in the light of a hot meal. Ever since she began to stay outside the local sleep room her mother still stayed in life was a lot more open. Especially since her home became this tavern and the oak tree. It still let her think of him, and that made her feel alive and free in such a small place.
She could not think of these things any longer, for she loved this food.
That night she returned to her oak to rest for the night in the cool rain of late spring. She greeted the tree and began to tell it of her day as she did as sort of a lonely game of sports when she stopped and noticed a large birch tree not more than ten paces from her. That had never been there before. She became frightened and concerned. Then, as if it was noticed, it spoke to her. "I have been seeking you, Andreava Windsong, daughter of no home. I am the druid Narflair Paphnesh, aligned to the Circle of Life in the High Forest. I am a servant of Rillifane Rallathil, and he has chosen you to be his champion and aid the Sword Coast." At hearing this she fainted.
Elanu was a sleek, black, massive, powerful panther. The one she saw in her visions years ago. He had come, as a willing ally and friend. Now, for the first time since they acquired the bond he spoke to her, "Humans live much like other wild things. I respect them, but they have no understanding or respect for other wild things, sister"
"They have respect for much and do much, the wild is not a concern of their average person, safety is, not understanding," the link was new and fresh and they had much to learn of one another and each other's ways. For the first time they were going to the village. It had been almost two seasons since that night. So much had happened, so fast. She must now find the words to tell her mother that she was about to leave on a crusade of her own; that the visions were actually the speech of a God; that she now had been bound to a panther named Elanu; that she was a druidess, as the tradition of the green elves called their female companions. This night would be long. The morning would come fast. She would run. Run like F'wenith’s demand. At last they reached the temple and there she was, outside gathering lumber for the fires. She took a breath and entered her future. "Mother," she began, “I am the druidess Cat."
