The Formative Years - Ally

"Come on, Trey!" The youthful voice impatience echoed through the trees, ruffling the birds making their homes in the aged oak's limbs.

"I'm trying, Ally. We're going too high!" He was at least a decade younger. Her own eyes flashed up at her angrily, blazing an emerald green over his plump, flushed cheeks. He scrambled up the limbs, panting as he tried to catch up with his sister. "Wait up, Ally!"

"Oh, don't be such a brownie!" The elfess craned her neck down towards her brother with a disapproving scowl. Mother would take a switch to her hide if she'd found out she'd brought Treybor tree climbing, much less this grand and ancient oak tree. With a grumbled curse befitting one of her many older brothers, she rolled her bright green pair skywards and extended her hand. Trey thrust his own and laced his slim fingers around her wrist. Grunting slightly, she hefted him up to the branch on which she was perched and promptly made a display of her pink tongue. Treybor was quick to respond in turn, but she had already turned her back on him, ascending to poke her headful of ginger locks up through the verdant canopy covering Greater Faydark.

The sun bathed them both in a soft, golden warmth, like a kiss from Mother Tunare herself. The sky was a brilliant blue, painted with the Gods' brush and bespeckled by delightful puffs meandering lazily over their starborn sea. Pointing to the northeastern waves of treetops, she grinned down at her brother. "There! There is the way to the Butcherblock mountains, and beyond that the Ocean of Tears ... and beyond that..."

"Yeah, yeah ... beyond which you can get your foot off my hand, sis." Trey's tender digits were pinned against the bark by her own well used foot. She huffed as a proper older sister should and gave a slight grind of her heel down. After she was satisfied by his yelp and submission, she released him to continue climbing.

A woodpecker with its crimson crest fluttered from the leaves to chitter some rushed protest of their disturbance. As she drew closer to the verdant canopy overhead, a rushing sound assailed her pointed ears. Ally winced at the suddenness of the sound, roaring through her ears like the ocean forever crashing on a distant shore. Shaking off the sensation, she continued the climb to the top when she had been certain Trey hadn't seen the moment of weakness. Higher up, the rush came again, however more distinct in the sound of a hundred voices, raised up in a roar of agony.

That was when she saw the smoke. A great column of oily black boiled up from the far northern boarders of her land, tainting the lovely blue sky in its poisonous cloud. "Oh, Sweet Tunare.."

"What? What is it, Ally?" Trey had wriggled up to a perch a little higher than her branch so that he could see over the leaves. His verdant pair that mirrored his sisters grew saucer wide, blinked in disbelief and he spout a word that need never repeating. As surprised as he was to see the column of smoke, he was even more surprised that Alluriel had regained her faculties quick enough to give him an admonishing slap upside his head. Trey yelped and rubbed the back of his head, giving her a threatening glare. She paid those green eyes no mind and gave a tiny push to his shoulder.

"Down. Now ... We have to warn the Guards. The Orcs are burning the Faydark." Both elfin children scrambled down the tree limbs, the woodland elves more at home barefoot in these branches than on the grassy pelt of the earth. As surefooted as the goats in the mountains, they wove between the creaking boughs and struck the grassy carpeting in a dead run. Treybor was faster, more accustomed to his shorter legs than her ever changing ones as she grew. Muscles burned in screaming protest as they pounded over the weathered paths leading back to Kelethin.

An all too familiar grunt and snarl caught behind her, a great trunk of a fist hammering into her back and it sent her in a sprawl. Treybor skidded up a small cloud of dust as he turned. "Ally!!"

"Trey! Get out of here and warn the others!" The spitfire elfess rolled to her back and curled her feet up, vaulting the green beast over her as he lunged for the kill. The orc sailed over head, face digging a trench into the dirt path. That seemed to spur Trey's conviction to stay or go, but someone had to warn the guards. Alluriel paused long enough to see him crest the next hill, safely out of range as another three orcs broke into a run at her sight.

Trey may have been faster, but she was no slow doe. Fleet footed and nimble, she cut a path through the thick woods, to keep them from Treybor's hasty trail. Weaving through the trunks, she led them on a merry jaunt until she'd had the weakling pawns cry for Centurions in their frustration. She'd flashed a grin, impish as the fluttering pixies', over her shoulder at the chasing party, confident now that she was beyond their grasp. Well ... that is until she bounced off the green wall, snorting in it's discontent. Yellowed eyes leered at her as she froze underneath the legionnaire, straddling her prone figure as the others caught up. Panting, fetid breaths tested the strength of her stomach and she'd tried to shuffle away.

The orcs formed a lethal circle, keeping her imprisoned and their thick lips curled in corroded, broken toothed grins. The legionnaire bent, curling a huge fistful of her brocaded leaf vest and lifting her clear off the ground until her fleet feet dangled precariously. Her nails curled into kitten's claws, digging into the thick arm that held her aloft futilely. Her eyes squeezed shut, the wind howling in the trees surrounding, and she thought it a fitting lament for her death. Alluriel braced for the blow that would surely cleave her head from her shoulders but none came.

Daring to open her eyes, she was at her feet, her cropped, crimson locks blown in this torrent and she saw the very wind lift her orcish assailants and fling them into the trees. They ran from this unseen source, screaming in pain as each of them in turn was bathed in the burning throes of his next spell. So in awe of this power, she hadn't realized she'd collapsed, crumpling into a weary heap as the carnage continued. When he stepped from the woods, the half elven druid bent to her side, holding her shoulders securely. Alluriel could remember his face, etched in the dying light of the day and weathered with worry. He dared a gentle smile, his dark hair haloed in a golden rim of sunlight.

"You'll be all right." His voice was a cool balm on her frayed nerves, a soothing calm that made her sag against his supportive frame.

"But the fire ... and the Orcs ... have to.." Silencing her with a gentle press of her fingertip on her protesting mouth, he smiled again, warmly reassuring.

"It's all been taken care of. We got Treybor's message and the fires are being put out. Our warriors are beating back Crushbone's minions and soon they will be returned forcefully back to their own lands. What you did today was very brave, Alluriel ... but you could have been killed."

"I couldn't let them burn the trees ... all of those trees, screaming in pain." Her head tilted against his shoulder, her voice softly absent.

His dark blue eyes turned on her with intense scrutiny. The look was gone quickly however as her cinnamon lashes fluttered over her emerald eyes, and her head began to tip. His arms wound about her shoulders and under her knees, lifting her gently from the grass and heading back to Kelethin in a trot. He passed Faydark's Champions, locked in fierce combat for every pace of Faydwer they won back from the orcs. The sounds of battle faded into the background as Thilos hugged the elfin girl's limp form against his chest. He'd heard the screaming of the trees only moments before the elf boy scrambled down the path and tumbled into the guards there. He prattled on about a great fire where the Orcs were meaning to march on Faydark. They'd thought he was joking, a boy's tale from an overripe imagination, but he knew differently. He had heard the screams, and now he knew, so did the child in his arms.

On his recommendation, the Guards had rushed out to where the young boy had pointed and found the tale to be true. Faydark's lovely oaken woods were charred black, their bark split and bleeding sap in their silent agony. How his heart wept to see them, but the boy had spoken of a sister, lost to the orcs. Her tracks were fresh, blatent in the broken blades of grass and scattered twigs, so he'd followed and found the girl. And now, to learn that she is one of Tunare's touched was no longer mere coincidence. She'd dozed in his arms as content as a kitten, curled against his chest with her breathing soft and even. He arrived in Kelethin, land of half of his ancestry, a hero with the brave child tucked securely in the crook of his arm. Her mother cooed and showered him with profuse thanks, sheltering her offspring in their treetop home, earning fifteen minutes of unwanted fame bringing back the daughter of one of the city's most prominent councilmen.

His business had been to come to Kelethin's bank, make use of its facilities breifly, but now his original itinerary was clouded in the courageous emerald eyes of one young elf. If she heard the voices of the trees, she was surely touched by Tunare and he had to cultivate that before it grew destructively out of control.

Ally floated between worlds for the rest of that evening, dosed heavily, and catching snippets of conversation from the other rooms. First calm, but strained, then heatedly arguing... she even thought she heard her mother weeping, but it was impossible to tell what was real and what wasn't. Soon the door to her room opened, and the half-elf stood in the frame. "When it comes time for your Choosing, Ally... You'll meet me at Judas's lift."

The Choosing was the time for examinations into the paths for the wilder elves of the trees. She was spared the roads well worn by family tradition, cast off as a pretty trophy for the next up and coming politician. Ally would have more with her life, and when the day finally came, she bid her family a brief farewell and was strolling through the early morning bustle of the awakening Kelethin. Vendors rummaged and sorted inventories, took stock and noted, as porches were swept and the first rising voices lifted with the sun, birthing a new day to the Faydark in a musical tribute.

Already there were long lines slithering through the doors and over bridges, hopefuls for all manners of callings, from smiths to tailors to bards and warriors. Weaving through the snaking crowds, she touched her hand to the shoulder of one tall figure, lanky and dark haired, as she murmured a soft pardon. Her fingers made a feather light landing on him that gave her a little jolt, surprise forcing her eyes up to meet his darker ones. Ally gave a shy smile, her cheeks flushing lightly as she scurried away, melting into the throng wondering why she suddenly felt so burningly embarrassed.

She barely had time to dwell on her roiling emotions before Judas's lift was before her. Ally drew a deep breath and steeled herself to make that first step on her trek to becoming a druid.

(I have lost so much of this :( Gules never forgets his first sight of Alluriel, and several years later they are reunited by chance in the Blood of Thex, and army led by the Prince of Neriak (which is the Dark Elf city). It is an odd alliance, since Dark and Light Elves are mortal enemies- but they feel the need to unite against Amrian, a powerful Necromancer bent of widespread destruction.)