Founding a New World

Father McNabb smiled and turned to face the elf, his voice sang although he stopped at times as if he had to find an appropriate word. The smile on the face of the elf changed slightly, turning into a scowl. With quick words the elf known as Lord Tarr responded.

Turning back to the Left-tenant, Father McNabb grimace and said slowly, "Lord Tarr would indeed enjoy some wine with you; however he would prefer that you join him for a feast. The wine would be welcome as he is eager to taste the wine of the…sea-people as they know call us." Looking down a moment as if he were judging what he was going to say next, he looked up and said hastily, "Lord Tarr does not want you to be alarmed as he is about to summon the rest of his forces from the other side of the wall and to this side."

Exhaling Father McNabb licked his lips then turned to the elf and nodded his head, at which point Dynoz glanced at the piper and said something. In an instant, the piper tested his chanter then began blowing a slow almost military march. The other one-hundred archers and the two-hundred and fifty men at arms rose silently from the far side away from the attention of the British soldiers, began falling into formation, and slowly marched around to form up with their comrades on the gate side. "Lord Tarr was unsure of your intentions so he prepared for the worst, he does apologize for the show of force."

Dynoz looked at Har'fal and said, "Give me the sword…" The seneschal chuckled as he pulled a wrapped bundle from the boot that would normally have held a footman's mace, "Mi'lord do you think he will be able to hold it?" S'varin lowered his head trying to hide the obvious amusement on his face, trying to contain laughter he said, "Mi'lord I believe the sword is bigger than he is, perhaps he can use it as a two-hander."

Clearing his throat to avoid the burst of laughter that rose in him, Dynoz grabbed the weapon and said, "We must assume he can carry it, he is in command of the others." Then turning as he unwrapped the blade, Dynoz said in the halting English, "I present this war sword as a sign of our friendship to the people of the sea." With that, he flipped the weapon so the thirty-seven inch blade was facing him, and the ornate eight-inch hilt faced Bowen. Dynoz watched carefully as did the other two knights as to what the diminutive leader would do.

Father McNabb said solemnly, "Left-tenant, this is a ritual handing over of the Lord's weapon to you. You are to take it and as a sign of good faith return it to him. The ritual will conclude when he accepts it and plants it in the ground between you as a sign you are both at peace as friends."

Even as he was speaking the good Father's eyes flickered and watched the other troops slowly come around to stand among their companions, and then he said, "Beware the Trojans bearing gifts."

S'varin was watching the less than complete fortifications, as he did so he noted the cannon and said in a low murmur, "I am eager to see their weapons up close, perhaps we can glean the ways of their magic."

Bowen's eyes narrowed somewhat, smoldering anger burning like glowing coals in those brown orbs, as his ears (all be them smaller and flatter then en elf's) picked out the somewhat hidden laughter of the elves when one of Lord Tarr's men passed him the large blade. Oh sure he had no clue just what they said but he knew one thing, it was his height. It was always his stature! Every bloody damn place! "Oh look at the little rat. Isn't he a cute soldier doll for my daughter? No wonder he didn't get sabered, frogs can't reach that low. He must have a hard time finding a dog big enough to ride, for even my daughter's pony is too large for his little Left-tenantship."

God it made his blood boil but an outburst or a challenge to a duel had to wait, right now he had a duty to the crown to keep these people alive until a superior office arrive or he was recalled to the damp shores of his beloved England. With a calming breath, he stepped forwards, until he could reach the offered sword with ease. Each step had seen the completion of a swift prayer to Saint George, to not let his arms falter under the weight of such a weapon as was offered by this savage fairy.

With a slight bow, Bowen grasped the hilt with both hands and lifted the heavy blade from the hand of Lord Tarr. As soon as he had weight of the weapon, his knuckles grew white, so hard was his grip. It was as heavy as it look and his own blade was a far cry from the power this one could weld but then again, a saber is meant for the quick slash and dizzying swordplay not power. Wanting to make this quick, as not to look a fool if he dropped the blade, he brought the crossguard up to his face in salute and then back down, turning the sword around so that it's hilt was again offered to the Elven lord.

"Father" said the Lieutenant softly, "Will I have ta be offerin his lordship me own saber?"

The rain fell in streaks down the windowpane. Irdine was sitting in the reclining chair by the window, a place she had come to regard as her sanctuary. In her lap lay an ornate tome. She let her fingers trail on the cover carved from wood. The gilded letters, "A Song of Legends", reflected light from the fireplace, winking to her about the words it held. It was a copy of a beloved children's book written a few millennia back. Slowly, she lifted the cover, an action she had done many times before although in a different place.

The Harpsichord and the Elf

At the beginning of beginnings, at the start of all things
A harpsichord sat in the void; Bright, white and gleaming
Awaiting its master to play out its tune
Patiently it stayed gathering dust from the stars
Patiently it stayed gathering time from the void
A thousand years passed, followed by a thousand and then a thousand more
Awaiting its master it would not cease

Near death it waited, hoping and wishing
Before its last breath, out of the void stepped an elf
Young of body and mind the elf went up to the harpsichord
"I will play you," the elf sang
Melody and words flowed from harpsichord and elf
Dust and time wrapped their arms around the two
In rising crecendos the young elf commanded
Deeper and higher the harpsichord was played
Stronger and softer the keys were carressed

Until the pair noticed the break approaching their closeness
The young elf had grown old, the harpsichord out of tune
A thousand years had passed, followed by a thousand and then a thousand more
Unlike what the heart said, the words were dull
"Farewell old friend, I will play you once again,"
The final verse of the elf before stepping back into the void

A knock startled Irdine as she was staring at the illustration of the harpsichord on the opposing page. She closed the book, gently replacing it in a chest at the foot of her bed before she went to answer the door.

Father McNabb smiled and said softly, "No my son, you do not. Apparently according to their rituals, they are the visitors." Even as the aged priest spoke, Dynoz beamed as he clasped the hilt, with a slight tug and bow he raised the sword above his head, the blade straight up. With a quick and sure strike, the blade inverted and slammed into the loam where it tinged and vibrated as Dyonz let it go.

Turning towards his gathered men, he said loudly, "We are now welcome as friends. We camp here this night, set up the field tents. Hurry before this storm comes full bore at us!"
Whirling around Dynoz looked down at Bowen and then at Father McNabb, as he spoke he turned his attention back to the diminutive officer.

"I would very much enjoy your company at diner. I wish to hear more of your world and the travels across the wide waters." Father McNabb translated as he listened to the song like chanting. "Come let us sup on the finest Lamb and Elk in my woods. Do you drink mead?" Dynoz glanced at his two escorts, "I want the sea people to have a peaceful night, place our wardens out and have them keep watch."

Both Har'fal and S'varin nodded turning their mounts and rode back towards the army, as they did they began shouting orders, something the Left-tenant should easily pick up. Standing next to the officer, Dynoz noted the pistol and smaller type of fire stick as well as the thin bladed weapon he carried. Of note was the lack of armor, only what appeared to be a surcoat of red over some wool clothes.

Looking at Father McNabb he said, "Does he wish to eat in my tent or shall we eat at his?" The good father chuckled and said, "Lord Tarr would like to know where the feast shall happen as he needs to have his cooks prepare the food before the rain comes."

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Meanwhile several dark shapes moved through the rain, sticking close to the walls they had slipped into Elmeri quietly, with a purpose. Their leather boots wrapped in lambskins to diffuse their footprints and lessen the splash or sounds they might make. Their bows wrapped tightly in more lambskin, their leather armor although wet would make barely a sound. The Tarr scout-wardens moved swiftly between buildings, from shadow to shadow. Their ears strained to hear any sound that they were discovered, any sign that would indicate guards coming for them.

The lead scout dropped to a knee as he spotted an armsman headed their way, the disheveled guard looked miserable and very young. The others seemed to vanish into the shadows and rain that abound along this wall, watching the guard move towards them, dragging his crossbow in the mud behind him. The young boy, muttered to himself, he hated being the one that had to make the rounds in the rain, but he was the newest member of the night watch and thus the others always made him do it.

As the boy moved past the lead scout who had not moved, he caught sight of a faint gleam in the downpour. Pausing he turned his attention to the shadows where he spotted the slight reflection of light. Straining his eyes he stood there dumbfounded as he realized he was staring at an elf crouched down low. Opening his mouth to shout he realized he was in trouble, as the shadow seemed to move with lighting speed from the wet ground to a position where the long wicked blade pressed against his neck. Dropping his crossbow the boy squealed, "Please…please…"

Other shadows seemed to come to life around him as he was stripped of his weapons and pulled into an alcove, the boy was fearful, he had never seen nor been in a fight. The cold calculating eyes that stared into his told him he was dealing with experienced warriors and killers. "Boy…you will not die tonight, but you will never speak of what you saw…"

As peel of thunder rippled across the blackened skies, it muffled a scream then a thud as a body fell heavily into the mud. The scout-wardens glanced about seeking any sign that someone heard the scream. Satisfied that no one had they moved onwards, as they did so the leader tossed a still warm tongue into a feed pen of some swine.

The feast ended up being held within the tent of Lord Tarr, if only because Bowen didn't feel comfortable letting their new 'friends' poke around inside Fort George. It would have been too easy for one of their firearms to suddenly go missing or in a more innocent situation, for an elf to accidentally set off their store of powder, should they take a candle or something to investigate one of the completed buildings. One could have argued that he could have posted all of his soldiers to guard their advantages over the natives but that was not a workable option, not with a feast going on. Not only would the lads be upset, it was entirely possible that the scrapping of the gutters would simply abandon their posts for the promise of drink and food. So to head off the desertions and the floggings that would come of that, he had to set Clarkson to dividing the company into watches for the rest of the day.

Now he also couldn't allow the fairies to provide all the food either. The women were sent to cooking their stores of local sea food; lobsters, clams, crabs, mussels with some black bass and stripped bass that had been taken that day by the sailors aboard the Indiamen. The ship captains were also invited to join them, along with several bottles of deep red wine from the northern Rhône wine region. The Lieutenant tried his best and succeed in preventing any demonstrations of their muskets or other fire arms, though he did allow the Indiamen to salute their new 'friends' with cannon loaded with just powder.

However, the ships were now two days gone, leaving the English colonists with nowhere to flee should an attack be lunched upon their small settlement. At least the walls were finished now, with half a dozen half-finished homes within them and two of the walls of the second floor of the blockhouse had been put up. A pen had been built on, connected to the south wall and now housed the pigs that Lord Tarr had given them. The chickens had been allowed to run free, within the confines of the fort, with many of the soldiers holding daily contests to see who could find the most eggs.

Things had become quite a bit more interesting since the feast with Lord Tarr and his men. The gift of pork and poultry was very much welcome in Jenny’s mind, and she was optimistic about the future relations with them. These people were nothing like the stories of vicious savages she’d heard rumors of, at least not in the completely foreign sense anyways. They were not as advanced in their technologies, but they seemed to be almost medieval in their dress and actions. She could not understand their strange, but beautiful language, but from what Father McNabb had translated, they seemed quite mannered. She hoped this alliance would help the settlement prosper, and possibly even a trade system could be set up.

It was also heartwarming to see everyone in better spirits, and things were defiantly looking up. By the end of the month, there would likely be enough homes built for everyone, though she knew she would be one of the last to take one. Most of the settlers has come as families, or intending to start one. She however was alone and a widow, so she wouldn’t need as large accommodations either way. She was happy enough to lodge in her tent, and suspected she would be until the weather turned colder. It wasn’t as if she had someone to talk to at night either way. It was these nights that she missed Jeremy the most. They had never shared what people would consider passionate love for one another, but they had been very good to each other, and as they had been friends through childhood had never felt reserved when talking. They had been dear friends, and his death had hurt her greatly. She was determined to be strong though, and was simply glad to be kept busy and help take care of this new community.

Currently, she was doing just that, bringing the newly washed laundry of Left-tenant Bowen and a few of the other officers to their tents. Some of the women she washed with had pleaded against delivering his laundry, as it would mean the possibility of talking to the man. Whether it was his plainer visage, or the rather scowling looks he often wore that had put them off she didn’t know for sure, but as she didn’t have anything against the man, she had volunteered. It was true he seemed right grumpy to her, he was also the commanding officer there to protect them, and he was very competent at doing so. Therefore, in her mind he deserved respect.

“Officer Bowen, I’ve brought back your washed linens.” Jenny called out in a friendly tone to the tent, waiting for Officer Bowen to give her permission to enter and bring them inside for him.

"What I wouldn't give for a proper company of highlanders..." Clarkson was muttering to himself as he watched a section of the 5th, including Private Bristow, heave at a heavy beam that was to be dropped into place for the final phases of the blockhouse. He noted the Privates own enthusiasm for the project and how useless the Corporal leading the party was and finally, he snapped.

"Corporal! Bristow! Front and centre!" He waited as they marched up to him, all work pausing as the rest of the men heard the anger in the Sergeants voice. He glowered at the two men. "Corporal, do you like sleeping in the snow?" The man shook his head. Corporal Donovan was not popular, he was an older man who had got his pathetic promotion by volunteering for the mission. He was not well liked and was even useless useful then most women who had come along on the journey. Clarkson reached out and with a quick jerk tore the Corporals stripes from Donovan's arm.

"Back to work Private." He snarled the words at Donovan who beat a hasty retreat towards the work party where laughter rippled amongst them. "Silence!" The below brought complete silence to the work party. He looked back to Bristow. "Congratulation Bristow, your two sections corporal now." He slapped the stripes into Bristows hand then pointed at the beam, and the two others nearby. "see those lad? I think I have shouted enough times for you to know where they go. Make me happy and you can stay corporal."

His look didn't encourage further conversation and the newly minted Corporal was left to his task as Clarkson about turned and made for the lieutenants tent. He brushed past a woman holding a basket of washing with a muttered " 'scuse me ma'am." Inside he saluted the officer. "Sah, made Bristow a corporal, took the stripes from Donovan, lazy sod was getting jack squat done, hope you will forgive me."

Trish was hauling a large timber into place when she heard the sergeants shout. She jumped slightly and let go of her load easily so the sudden increase of weight didn't throw anybody off. 'What could the Sergent need, did I do anything wrong, did my tent fall down, did my stuff get trampled' when the girl got within 5 feet of her commanding officer, she changed her tone of thought 'focus, focus, focus, don't freak, calm.' She took a steadying breath and stood tall listening to the big man in front of her.

She shrunk away slightly from the newly made private, she hadn't seen what the corporal had done that would be enough cause for stripping him of rank, but what ever it was she didn't want to get caught in the gravitational pull of it, and bring the sergent's wrath on her. The young soldier's eyes popped slightly when the tall Clarkson gave her Donovan's stripes. She listened to her commanding officer's words in a slight daze, she wasn't cut out for a position of decision and power, she followed order's to the letter, she wasn't good at making them.

As the big man walked away from her, she paused and looked down at the stripes, for a second she stood there staring at the little pieces of cloth. Then after a cough from behind her woke her up slightly she turned around to look at the privates, all looking back at her. She paused for another second and cleared her throat. 'Come on Bristow, make ol Taylor proud' she stood up straight and called to her work force. "Alright men, we've had enough of a break, lets haul these beams into place." The small soldier called out with a big voice, well, the people in her sections heard her well enough.

With that the men hopped down and got back to work, she took a place among the men in the ground troop. Some of the privates looked at her in confusion, "Tim- er corporal, we can handle this" one private said, Jhon was his name, he and a few other's around her nodded in agreement. "John, if you men can do it by your selves, then me helping will only get it done faster" the Trish said strongly and grabbed ahold of the beam, her red hair falling over her face slightly.

"Ok my count, two" she shouted as half of the privates got to the long rope away from the beam on the other side of the block house, and the other half took ahold of the beam itself. "six" she yelled and all the soldiers with ahold on the beam tensed up "heave!" she yelled and pulled up with the assistance of her men lifting the heavy beam at a slant.

"FIRST ROPES, PULL" she yelled as the men, in line with the beam, who were holding one of the long ropes pulled, causing one end of the beam to raise up even higher, "second ropes, PULL" she yelled and the other soldiers pulled on another rope perpendicular to the first, on the other side of teh block house, pulling the beam towards them, on the other end of the block house, bringing one end of the large beam to rest of the block house.

With that done, half of the people on second ropes, and all the soldier's from first rope went to the left of the block house, the ground soldier's including Bristow grabbed a hold of the other side of the beam, "two, six, HEAVE" she yelled and lifted with her men, "first ropes pull" she yelled. After a pause, she saw that the beam was almost horizontal with ground soldier's and ropes keeping it up, "second ropes pull" she yelled and started walking to the block house with her men and the pull of the second group.

Trish sighed when she heard the heavy beam make contact with the building, and felt the lack of weight on her arms. "ground group, come on" she said loud enough for her ground troop to hear. The soldiers all climbed up on top of the block house and got on the edges of the nearly completed walls, they pushed the beam halfway over the boxy shape. The small soldier looked over her men, "OK, nice job men, rest for a minute or two, and then lets get the next one" she yelled so her men could hear her, she cleared her throat, she had been especially gruff when she was shouting so her voice sounded less girly. She hoped it was working.

With the middle beam in place the men only had to put two more up, with some smaller pieces of lumber that the soldiers would bring up later on, the carpenter's could build up a peaked roof in two days tops, even if they dictated the second day into just thatching, they could get it done. After the soldiers had caught their breath they walked over to the next beam and attached the ropes to both ends and started the process over. Soon they would be done.

Dynoz drew back the bowstring and aimed at the magnificent buck that stood a mere 200 yards away. Exhaling softly, he loosened the feathered shaft at the creature. Without looking to see the results, he handed the bow to a page who accompanied he and the other knights.

"Tell me S'varin do you think the sea people will be a problem?" Dynoz asked as he mounted the great black horse and slowly began trotting in the direction the buck had taken. The elf with the black and white streaked hair snorted then glanced at his cousin, "I truly am unsure cousin. I know they are not a rabble of peasants, they have soldiers proper, among them."

Har'fal nodded and spoke up, "Yes although they are not mounted they do have a certain familiarity about them that tells me they can be a useful ground force." Dynoz paused a moment as he scanned the skies. It was a gorgeous day, the sky a brilliant azure color, with a few fluffy white clouds lingering in the air, a subtle breeze waft over them. "My concern is the sea people may pose a threat to us."

S'varin peered at Dynoz then said softly, "I do not think so cousin, they have no armor. Granted they have those fire sticks, and the two large ones. Those are similar to the ones on the large boats that created thunder and smoke." Spitting before continuing, S'varin lowered his head, "We know they can penetrate our armor the way a bolt or arrow can, perhaps even easier. However, we have seen these weapons up close; I think if we can survive a volley and are among them we can lay waste to them. After all, they wear no armor and their firesticks are then little more than light pikes."

Har'fal cleared his throat, "They do not wear armor, and our weapons will be deadly to their flesh. In addition, they seem to be less able to hear our movements, which will be a factor for our scout-wardens if we should have to engage the sea people in battle."

Dynoz smiled as the scouts waved to them, it appeared they had found the buck, "Indeed. I am concerned though that we are unaware of the extent of these sea people. The Ard Ri's forces defeated a similar force but more have come. These soldiers are not numerous yet they have a confidence that comes from winning wars. That troubles me; after all we have heard from the priest that they have conquered the world."

The group of knights fell silent as they continued on to the buck, each lost in thoughts as they contemplated the future of their peoples.

The lightning cast a sickly yellow hue on the surrounding clouds. Irdine tore her glance away from the skylight and gazed at the hall in front of her. In spite of the pounding rain, many nobles had made it to the feast. It was the customary feast held before a Banphrionsa went into fasting and purification to ask their ancestors for blessings. This was her second feast before a fast and she understood that the feast was more for show rather than for her to consume any food. Her dinner had consisted mostly of vegetables to accustom her to the lack of food the next seven days would bring. The eighth day would be her one-hundredth birthday, and hopefully she would have earned her ancestor's blessing.

Dressed in a green dress, she sat on a throne, watching as the nobles decked out in their finest clothes in varied hues gracefully danced across the floor. In her mind, she went through the next day's proceedings and the rituals she would have to undergo. While the ceremony took place in the relative privacy of the ancestral hall, there would still be a few priestess present. Any mistakes the Banphrionsa made would be frowned upon. Besides, she did not wish to offend her ancestors in any way. She shook her head slightly, chasing away the depressing thoughts. It would be a long while before she was in the company of so many elves again. She looked out across the hall, drinking in the sight of the smiling faces of the nobles.

The scout-wardens made there way closer to the inner keep of the castle of Elmeri, silently the shadows stepped, silently they moved avoiding the guards, silently and swiftly they reached the tall walls of the inner keep. Glancing at one another, the nodded when they felt it was safe, the leader unwrapped his long bow and notched and arrow, after a few moments of breathing he fired it upward, trailing behind it a thin line. There was a slight clatter then nothing. Tugging on the line, it slid along the walkway before it caught. Tugging again with his full weight the line went taut.

Silently one by one, quick shadows climbed the wall, once on the upper walkway, they drew their wicked looking falchions, the blades coated to hide the gleam. Listening they waited until they were sure the festivities had begun. With dangerous glances the scouts moved towards a door leading further into the keep, each of them aware if caught they would surely die, that's why none wore the tunic of the dread gryphon, the Tarr crest.

After a few moments of searching, they found what they sought. The leader entered the room of the Banphrionsa, once inside he stole to her bed and unwrapped a long, thin, and wicked looking dagger. Inlaid with gold and silver, the fearsome blade shaped similar to the daggers the Tarr wore. The steel handle craved and shaped as the dread gryphon, the blade coming from the opened jaws, in a slight wavy pattern. After a moment of placing the dagger on the pillow of the Banphrionsa he laid out a parchment next to it.

"My dearest Banphrionsa, I am hurt indeed you felt the need to snub me to such a joyous occasion as your one-hundredth birthday. I hope you accept my prize to you, and may it offer you some solace that we Tarr do not hold grudges.

Dynoz Tarr"

Once the event was done, the three scout-wardens slipped from the keep and the city and back into the dark woods that bordered the two lands. Once there they would send message to Lord Tarr that they had succeed in their mission.

"Will Private Donovan cause any problems with his demotion Staff" asked Bowen, as he placed his hawk quill pen into a small opened bottle of ink. Place the daily report he had been writing onto the small cot that took up the back of his tent, he reached into the small pile of ledgers and pulled out the list of troops under his command. Placing the thin volume on the folding writing desk he was seating at and opening it, he picked up the pen again. Besides Bristow's name, he swiftly wrote in a thin, spidery letters: promoted to Corporal, July 30, 1769. Scrolling down the list, he made an almost violent line across the rank listed in front of Donovan's name and dated it.

He frowned down at the ledger, as if that would make the ink dry faster, so he could close it and be done with the matter but to no avail. Sighing softly, he placed the open volume on top of the stack and grabbed his report. Not that anyone would be reading it for another three months, at the very earliest and with good wind. Still, he was bound to make them and ship the lot off with the next arrival and departure of the Indiamen assigned to ship supplies to and from the colony.

"Do come in Miss....Waldgrave was it" Bowen said suddenly, "And you too Clarkson. I want you both to answer a question of mine. All of my reports to the Crown have been filled with my own opinions and that is as it should be but, I would like to hear what you think of the arrival of Lord Tarr and the rest of the Fairies?"

“Ms. Watkins.” Jenny corrected, as she entered, bringing in the laundry, and setting it neatly in the corner. She listened to Left-tenant Bowen as he talked of his reports and opinions. He even said he wished to know what they thought of Lord Tarr and his people, the fairies as the settlement had come to call them.

“They seemed well mannered enough, and willing to have peace. I think good relations with Lord Tarr and his people would mean open trade with them, and as they know the land better than we could ever hope to, a friendship could help this settlement prosper. ” Jenny said, putting in her two cents. As the daughter of a Vicar, she’d had some education, more than most girls in her village could dream of, and had read of such things in her father’s small library. Though small, the selection ranged from the home Bible, to several books about solving disputes between neighbors. That book had been written by a priest, and he father thought the book quite enlightening. She saw this as similar to solving neighborly disputes. Both sides had much to gain from helping one another, and as long as neither went out of their way to act upon ill will towards each other, she didn’t see a reason for conflict.

Irdine stared at the dagger lying on her pillow. She frowned, recognising the steel handle of the dread gryphon as belonging to the Tarr. What was it doing here? She had seen that hilt sticking out of the wounds of too many of their soldiers. Her hand trembling slightly she picked up the parchment lying next to it. Her frown deepened as she read the words written on it. She turned her gaze back to the dagger, and then reread the message, trying to find out the true intentions of Tarr. She had to speak to her ill Advisor.

Unwilling to touch the wicked blade, and yet unwilling to leave it alone in her room, she made one of her personal attendants carry the pillow with the dagger on top. Then, she proceeded to Advisor Hemor's room. Another attendant had run ahead, announcing her arrival. Swiftly, she entered the room. Hemor was getting up from his desk as she stepped into his room.

"Please be seated, Advisor. I do not wish to aggravate your condition."
Hemor noticed the stern face of the Banphrionsa and quickly sat back down.
"I found this-" she signalled to the attendant who brought the pillow and blade forward, "-upon arrival in my room tonight. This parchment came along with it," she said, lightly tossing the parchment towards Hemor. She took a seat opposite him while he read it. His face turned even paler.
"Banphrionsa, this is an outrage! To place such a deadly dagger in your personal room is an outright threat against you. Spies must be within our castle for him to know of your personal quarters," Hemor said, some color returning to his cheeks with the outburst.
Irdine nodded and turned to an attendant, "Summon Seneschal Vorerr." The attendant hurriedly left the room. “What I do not understand, Advisor, are the first words he has written. Why would he feel snubbed? We did send him an invitation," she said, frowning down at the parchment.
"Banphrionsa, it is the will of our ancestors. Perhaps the hawk we sent was unable to arrive at his destination, whether by force of nature or one of his own troops shooting the bird down." Irdine shot a look at the Advisor, staring at him straight.
"Perhaps, Hemor, perhaps," she nodded slowly, before turning her gaze towards the parchment again. "No matter. I shall send him a second invitation."
"Banphrionsa, I urge you, please reconsider. The elf has already sent this dagger as a reply to what he thinks of you, that you should be dead!" There was silence as Irdine looked at Hemor.

"Announcing Seneschal Vorerr," an attendant called, interrupting her thought. The Seneschal stepped into the room, looking immaculate despite the late hour.
"Your humble servant answers the Banphrionsa's call," he said, bowing slightly before entering the room. An attendant shut the door.
"Seneschal, I am sorry to call upon you at this late hour, but this was delivered to my rooms," Irdine said, nodding at the pillow, blade and parchment sitting on Hemor's desk. The Seneschal approached the desk, his eyes widening at the blade. Quickly, he snatched up the parchment and read it.
"Guard! Deliver this to Commander Ashond at once; tell him it was found in the Banphrionsa's room along with a Tarr dagger. And please run!" He shouted, watching as the guard raced out of the room, before turning back to Irdine, "Your humble servant apologises for yelling in the presence of the Banphrionsa and for our lack of vigilance in allowing this travesty to occur. Your humble servant shall arrange new quarters for you and double the number of your personal knights, Banphrionsa."
"Seneschal, how would you advise I reply to this missive?" The Seneschal paused a while before replying.
"Your humble servant would advise a reply stating that the Banphrionsa is young in years compared to the honourable Lord Tarr, and that travelling so many days for a one-hundredth birthday celebration is more trouble than it is worth. Such a journey for a busy elf like Lord Tarr would only inconvenience him."
"Very well, Seneschal, I shall take your advice into consideration. There is no need to change my quarters, I am quite happy with it. Was it not the Ard Ri who chose the colour scheme for me? Besides, unless we find out who has been leaking out information on my quarters, a change of rooms would not remedy the situation."
"Your humble servant agrees, and will leave the Banphrionsa's quarters as it is. Your humble servant now asks for his leave in order to report this to the Ard Ri, Banphrionsa."
"Seneschal, I would appreciate it if you do not report this matter to my brother." The Seneschal gave a start.
"Your humble servant believes it is in the Banphrionsa's best interest to report this travesty."
"And allow a full blown war to start? No, Seneschal, I will not allow that to happen." Irdine stood up, drawing herself to her full height.
"Seneschal, do you swear allegiance to the royal family, to the one and only Ard Ri? To our ancestors, the Daoine Sidhe, who came from the great eastern waters and inhabited this land? Seneschal, do you swear eternal loyalty?" She said, staring down squarely at him, repeating part of the vow a Seneschal had to take.
"I do, Banphrionsa."
"Then you shall keep this matter a secret from the Ard Ri to prevent continuing wars for the sake of our people."
"Your humble servant shall follow your will, Banphrionsa."
"Very well, you are dismissed, Seneschal. Thank you for your time."
"Your humble servant was happy to serve, Banphrionsa."

Irdine sat back down at the desk after the Seneschal departed. She looked at Hemor, letting out a sigh, before drafting a letter to Lord Tarr. The final product read:

"Lord Tarr, I offer my sincerest apologies. I am but a young and foolish elf, and did not dare hope an elf of your eminence would grace such a small event. I humbly accept your gift and am glad that the Tarr are as noble as I have been led to believe.

Banphrionsa Lasyth"

She made two copies, sealed them with wax and proceeded to the falconer to personally send off the messages. The rain had stopped. She stood there, watching as the two birds took flight into the overcast night.

From a side drawer, Hemor withdrew the parchment he was writing on before the Banphrionsa entered the room. He added another paragraph to it, before sealing it with wax to be delivered to the Ard Ri the next day.

The hunt had gone well; the knights had brought down two large bucks and several dozen geese. As they returned to Dun Caithsith, Dynoz was accosted by the falconer who had three bits of parchment and an excited look upon his face, "Mi'lord, please mi'lord I have something for you to see."

As Dynoz slid from his horse and handed the reins to a stable hand he glanced at the gaunt looking elf that was waving the bits of parchment around, speaking dryly Lord Tarr said, "Indeed, what could be of such import?" He took began and reading the various papers, it seemed that his scouts had delivered the prize to the Banphrionsa, the next two were identical, and it surprised him. A scowl appeared on his features as he looked into the eyes of both S'varin and Har'fal, who were curious as to what could cause him to look as shocked as he appeared.

"Our gift has been delivered. However we have an invite to the Banphrionsa's celebration." He murmured as he stared at the invitations again. S'varin snorted, Har'fal stroked his goatee before speaking, "We are invited? How odd, I would have expected Hemor or Vorerr to recommend she leave and that the Ard Ri would be sending an army towards us."
Dynoz nodded as he inhaled deeply and stared into the darkening skies, the sun fading in the western sky dipping slowly beyond the tree line. Frowning he waved a rider to him, "I want you to arrive at the…Fort George and relay a message to the priest to give to the small leader."

The scout nodded and repeated the message twice before mounting his horse and galloped at a good pace from the castle. Turning towards the great hall, Dynoz tossed two of the notes into a small fire, and kept one invitation. "I expect the Banphrionsa shall have an exciting birthday after all. I want a retinue to accompany me, Har'fal you shall come, S'varin you will stay here if it is a trap you shall have to strike down the Ard Ri and all of his familial line." Both knights nodded in agreement as the listened to what Lord Tarr had in mind.

Nailo nodded to his men and signaled them to move forward. The colonists were close by. Another contingent of knights had already been taken out. He placed his men around the clearing where some of the knights had fallen. Nailo wouldn't normally risk so much by coming here himself, but he wanted to see these, "Humans," himself. A scout moved silently through the brush of the trees until he was next the lord. "Sir," he whispered so only her could here. "The men are in position."

Nailo nodded his ascent and sent the man back to his position. He crouched in the brush as some colonists entered into the clearing and knelt near one of the fallen knights. The human looked through his personal gear and his weaponry. Then he pulled off the elf's helmet and exclaimed at the sight of his ears. "What devilry is this?" he asked his men.

"Its not human," one of them remarked. Nailo raised his hand and signaled to his men. Each of them around the clearing pulled back on their bowstrings readying a strike. Nailo nodded and decided on his actions. The elven lord stood and strode out into the clearing facing the colonists. "Your right, he's not human. Nor is he this devil you speak of."

It had been too long for Fox. Too long of this "Dry" land. His lands were known for their swamps, their marsh. His tribe had been traveling for weeks now, growing in size. It was beginning to become cumbersome to hide their tracks and stifle their fires. He needed to settle in land reasonable to lay claim to. Nigh, they needed to settle in decent lands.

"Fawks sir! Seems sommit's betwix us an our ways up to norf lands!" The rank of stale meat on breath carried along with the voice. A short, poor excuse, for an elf spoke out to fox. "Sommit's goin on, some kinda floatin' dingy out in da blue abyss."

"Aye?"

"Yehs sir! Large, an on da whites; der be figures in red! Snikes says dey ain't elf-like!"

"Snikes? Speaking of, where is he?" Fox had yet to turn his attention away from the smoldering coals of the, now dead, campfire.

"He still be out der. Says sommit killed other elves, we seen new colors; must be more nobles we can lay our hands on!" The excitement bubbled out with each foul smelling word.

"Ah, good work then Skins. Listen I need you to keep on the quite side about this. Somethin' that isn't elves, may not be so friendly to us."

"SIR!" Another voice shot out. The reaction from Fox was one of disappointment; as we are all supposed to remain quiet, invisible. All of this commotion would only give our position. "Re-"

He was interrupted. "Skins beat you to it. Unless you have news about something other than red creatures from the sea, elves under flying colors; I'd find it best that you shut it, before you get us all caught."

"Exactly my point sir. We've got trouble, a small band of elves. Scouts I assume, none the less they come from the west. I believe we are encroaching upon lordship controlled territories." (Referring to the eastern most elven controlled cities in the southern most part of the map. Near's territory I believe?)

"That we are, anything else of it? We cannot help what lies in our path, we can only work with it. We do not need to waste our resources in hostility, not yet." Fox pushed some loose soil over the smoldering coals. "Should they be hostile, we know how to take care of ourselves. Let's hope we do not have to." He stood. Fox leaped up into the canopy above. He found himself among the most of his tribe; relaxed within the cover of trees and their branches. It had been something of practice since their trek began weeks ago. They were approaching a near-mastery of treetop living. All armed with bows and sword, able to strike at whim to any foe careless enough to pass below.

The scout-warden pushed his light horse for all it was worth, riding the now familiar trail from the watchtower along the budding road towards Fort George. The deep sapphire colored eyes flared as he entered the sea-people's lands. Riding fast he directed his wet mount up the hill towards the gates of the wooden keep. As he reached the gates he slid off his mount and dropped to a knee at the first gate guard, his voice strained as he said in halting English, "Let-tooon-ant…Booow-a-weeeen!"

Pausing a moment the scout-warden seemed to be conflicted, he shook his head, he struggled to remember the words in the strange harsh language of the sea people, frowning he looked up at the gate guards again, "Meee-sage, fo-ar Let-tooon-ant Booow-a-weeeen, fa-room Lo-ard Tarr." Once he stated his reason for being here he dropped his head and waited for the small sea people leader and Father McNabb to come to get the message.
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Meanwhile in the far north at Dun Mora, Lord Eckert smiled as the first of his troops began to move into the boarder lands between the Clan Tarr and Clan Dara'lis. Astride his destrier, he glanced at the mass of troops that were moving; nearly five-thousand elves were now in motion to take the far castle of the Dara'lis. Of course, there would be word of their approach and probably a plea for help from the Ard Ri to come to their aid, but that would be something that would not arrive until the siege was well under way.

Looking at his seneschal Quinn, a cruel smile graced his already harsh and angular features, "Woe to those who betray the Dread Gryphon.." Quinn nodded and laughed as he said, "I don't think the Dara'lis believed that we'd come for them now that they are the lap dogs of the Ard Ri."
Lord Eckert snorted, "Did they think Lord Tarr would forgive this betrayal? Hardly, now it is time that they realized they erred in their judgement." Both elves laughed harsh cruel laughs as they began riding forward to take their place with the other mounted knights, just ahead of the bagpipers and drummers who were heralding their beginning conquest.

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At Castle Dun Caitsith, Lord Tarr spoke to his falconer, and handed him a bit of scroll paper, "Have this falcon return to its master with this message." The gaunt elf slides the note in the boot on the flacon's leg and spoke to it in the language of the birds. In an instant the magnificent bird launched itself skyward headed towards the Banphrionsa Irdine at Elmeri. The note was simple:

My dear Banphrionsa, I am honored to celebrate you passage into adulthood, I expect I shall be protected under the Laws of the Y Twyleth Teg. I also invoke my right as Lord to bring guests to your celebration in honor of you.

Dynoz Tarr.

Turning back to Har'fal and S'varin, he smiled coldly, "I am looking forward to this, if the Ard Ri is unaware I am to be there it could provide for some interesting discussions."

"Here he is, Seneschal," Commander Ashond said, showing Seneschal Vorerr into the medical bay. A young elf lay in bed, bandages tied around his mouth to the back of his head. Blood soaked the area where his tongue had been. The boy looked up as Vorerr entered, his eyes still slightly glazed from the shock. Vorerr stared back into the boys eyes, before walking out of the tent, a thunderous look in his eyes.
"A curse upon Tarr and their descendants! To resort to such ways when we are not at war is pure cruelty," Vorerr shouted, pacing outside to calm himself down.
"The Tarrs are not known for staying their hand," Commander Ashond nodded.
"Keep this from the Banphrionsa and Advisor Hemor. Especially Hemor. If he were to find out about this... this sin, he would surely use it with the dagger to throw us into another war."
"But who can blame him? His grandson perished fighting against the rebellion of Tarr a few years ago. If Kinard were to die by the hand of Tarr, I would be out for blood as well."
"Yes, I fear that event has coloured his judgement. Perhaps that is why the Ard Ri sent him out so far away from Culor. Fortunately, or maybe the Ard Ri had planned it, our Banphrionsa is more level-headed," Vorerr nodded, somewhat calmed, "I trust this young boy will be promoted? And be given a non-combat position?"
"Yes, Seneschal. He will be apprenticed to the master stabler. He loves taking care of the horses."
"Very well, that is an important position as well. Come, we must proceed back to the ceremonial grounds, the Banphrionsa should be awake by now."

The two men walked back in silence.

Before Clarkson could answer another red coated soldier appeared at the open flap of the tent. It was one of the light infantry men, based off of the shorter red jacket and his sweat soaked brow under a leather helmet. Like most of the soldiers in the mismatched company, he had been a criminal before 'volunteering' for the army. In his case, a thief of cumbers. Of course Ackers didn't let this be known to his fellows, a collection of cutthroats, highwaymen and tavern brawlers.

"Left-tenant Sah" said Private Ackers, making a crisp salute, "Theres a fairy at the gate. Says he has a message for you Sah, from that Lord Tarr."

"It looks like we'll have to take up this conversation some time again" Bowen sighed, corking the ink bottle and laying his quill down, "Soldier, go fetch Father McNabb. I will have need of his knowledge of the fairy talk, as they don't speak like a proper civilized person."

"Sah" said Ackers, as he trotted off.

The Lieutenant stood up and stretched before grabbing his hat and saber. For some reason, he never felt comfortable meeting the locals without the blade at his side. For some reason, the weapon gave him enough power to gain a little respect, at least from Lord Tarr's common soldiers. He had given some thought to if it would empower him when greeting any of the common folk but he had get to meet any of the Elven peasants. He had to give Lord Tarr that much for wisdom. He would allowed the fairies to even see their women and colonists, if he had been given the chance. Once the blade was buckled around his waist, he set off, at a trot towards the gate.