Chapter 48. Full Circle
They all stood within a clearing in the forest of Elit G’fedrel. The vast trees, the S’Apli’Baum, stood high above them but even so much sunlight reached down in a speckled pattern to light the forest floor. The air was warm and mildly fragrant. High in the trees within the T’Iea city a gentle breeze blew through the leaves causing a distant rustling noise. Nar’Allia stood holding hands with Lo’Rosse, their son held between them leaning back against their knees; he played with a wooden toy sword.
Solvienne and Thor stood next to them both silent, Thor looked at Solvienne who screwed up her nose in a grin and pulled her shoulders together in an expression of delight and giggled. Thor shook his head slowly at his sister’s expression for he knew it so well.
Serinae stood dressed in new calf length breaches and tunic of supple leather and new boots. Subtle stitching and colouring depicted flowers and other fauna of the wilds. It had taken Minervar several days to convince her to remove her old garb and discard it for new. Serinae had complained bitterly arguing that there were many years of service left in them and the crafting that made them was now a rarity and they would be difficult to replace. But she had conceded after Minervar had hinted with a screwed up nose that Serinae would be seeing those many years of service alone in that case. But what really clinched it and probably gave Serinae the excuse she needed was when the ex-T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran leather smith that Minervar had commissioned to make the new clothes showed Serinae his designs. To Serinae’s great delight, like so many of the artisans of the old isolated city of R’Iggorr’Thegoran kept alive the long lost skills of the rest of the T’Iea race. She couldn’t resist commissioning him to copy the designs of her original clothing and make her a new set..
Shak’Ee’Roe now Serinae’s apprentice stood by her side, she was adorned as a ranger of old, with two short swords at her sides a long bow of white wood across her back, a shirt of bright shining chain mail armour, two bronze coloured bracers upon her forearms. An Ornate quiver hung by her side clipped to her leather belt, it held within many equally ornate arrows. But these arrows where not ethereal as you may expect; no, these arrows she had crafted herself and had solid shafts, expertly forged iron arrow heads and flights of red and orange feathers. Serinae smiled thinking once more how the T’Iea skills of long ago would now be revived once more.
Minervar held the hand of Iolrreas, who turning kissed her cheek; he smiled a knowing smile and winked his eye at her. He then left her standing there. Minervar smiled, she clasped both hands in front of her and rocked forward a couple of times on her toes as she watched her husband as he walked over to join two T’Iea standing side by side beneath an arch formed of living wood bedecked with flowers, berries and variegated vines leaves. As Iolrreas approached her side the female T’Iea standing there turned in greeting.
Solin looked up at Iolrreas and smiled, her features had changed dramatically, she looked years younger, once more returned to the time of her R’Golea’Foed. She leant across and whispered, “Iolrreas, thank you for consenting to give me away, it is a great honour.”
Iolrreas smiled at her and leaning sideways towards her whispered back out of the corner of his mouth, “I assure you my lady that the honour rests with me.” Then he leaned farther forward and looked across to where a T’Iea male stood very close next to Solin’s other side. Iolrreas smiled and reaching across the front of Solin to Teathe’De’Turon the two men shook hands.
A cough sounded in front of the three of them.
They turned back to where the T’Iea dignitary stood smiling and the wedding ceremony began.
At the celebrations afterwards Minervar stood chatting to Solin as her new husband was led away by Iolrreas and Lo’Rosse to where Orln and Thor stood in the entrance of the Inn. They talked of the promise of the Brew Masters latest ale, especially brewed for this occasion and how he had excelled himself with this one. They laughed at the name the brew master had given the ale for when asked he had called it ‘The Final Lesson Ale’. The two women watched them go. Minervar smiled as she saw Thor wave move off in the direction of a beautiful T’Iea female clad in flowing white silk, she had waved at him, her jet black hair cascaded down her back, it was interlaced with many flowers and leaves. Minervar smiled, she recognised the young T’Iea woman as a new friend that Thor had met recently, her name she believed to be Yu’Enia. She smiled even more as she saw both Lo’Rosse and Orln shake their heads at Thor. Iolrreas grasped both of them by the shoulders and steered them away, they disappeared inside the Inn. Minervar watched her son and his new friend embrace and then proceed to chat, she sighed and eventually she asked, “so what will you do now Solin?”
The older elf smiled and took Minervar’s hand in both of hers, she considered the question. She looked towards Serinae where she stood chatting to a group of T’Iea, she recognised them as members of the newly formed artisan’s guilds. Shak’Ee’Roe was standing by her side, she seemed to be in fits of laughter for some reason, Solin smiled gently at the young T’Iea male who seemed to hang on Shak’Ee’Roe’s every word and was laughing with her. She looked at Nar’Allia holding the hand of her son, Nar’Allia had one hand laid gently on the now very obvious roundness of her expanding belly. Solvienne was entertaining a group of children with some simple tricks, she waved her hands and small flowers exploded into the air around her, the children trying to jump about and catch as many as possible as they slowly floated down to the ground.
She looked around at the vista of home, the T’Iea’s real home. She looked at the gathering of many T’Iea, her people. Not a race split into three, no longer in separation as the T’Iea’Tarderi the Wood Elves, or the T’Iea’Denarin the High Elves, not even T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran the Dark Elves. At last once more complete, the T’Iea once again a united people. Many stood around chatting and laughing. They were all happy to be here. Here amongst the great trees, the S’Apli’Baum in the forests of old. They were content, she was content. There was nothing left to do except of course let nature and the will of Eny’Nin’Rel take its course, for there was nothing she could do to change any of it. After all she didn’t need to.
Solin remembered a conversation she had with Serinae when they were catching up on events of the past. They were discussing where Serinae had been, where she had found herself when she had left the world of men so long ago. Solin had asked her old friend if there was any possibility of going there, somewhere she had not been in her long life, she felt would dearly like to go. Serinae had thought for a while, had smiled broadly at Solin, she had shrugged her shoulders and made a comment about Solin never being able to let go of the academic life. She had smiled and lifted Serinae’s hand and kissed it, whilst looking deeply into her eyes. Serinae had then said, “why not. Yes, of course, but I’m afraid it is still by invitation only. Or perhaps you can find a guide, someone who knows the secret of how to reach that place.”
With the memory of that meeting fading, Solin took in a deep breath of the fragrant air, she looked around at the high trees and closed her eyes. She squeezed Minervar’s hand gently, then looking at Minervar’s quizzical expression she said, “you know Mini, I feel like going on a long holiday. A really long holiday. I shall take Teathe of course and show him some sights. He has led a somewhat sheltered life of late, he needs to get out more.” She gave that melodious giggle that Minervar loved so much.
Minervar laughed, “I would have thought that travelling was the last thing you would want to do Solin, after all have you not seen most everything on your many trips?”
Solin smiled a sly look on her face, “ah yes, I have seen most of the world of men. Perhaps the parts that I have not seen are not even worth going to see. But it is not there or even here in Elit G’fedrel of which I am thinking. As beautiful as it is, this will of course always be my home to return to.” She stood deep in thought for a few seconds whilst Minervar looked at her quizzically. Then she continued as she clasped both hands behind her and
rocking backwards and forwards on her heals and toes she said, “No it is not Elit G’fedrel that I am thinking of.”
Minervar looked sideways at Solin, still a questioning look upon her face. “What are you scheming now My Lady? Another secret no doubt?”
Solin just stared back, then as if coming to a decision she said, “no I am done with secrets. But yes that’s it, I think I will do some travelling.” She turned and looked towards where the men had disappeared into the Inn. “But the only thing is I will need a Helmsman.” She thought for a while and said, “perhaps our dearest friend Master Amndo may have once consented to that position, but now I will have to find another, what do you think?” Minervar seemed astonished, but before she could make a response, Solin reached inside her robe and held something in the palm of her hand. Both T’Iea looked down as she opened her fingers one by one revealing a small black shiny stone. Solin added, “Yes, I will ask the keepers, I will ask them the first opportunity I get.” She giggled at the perplexed look on Minervar’s face.
Late that evening following the celebrations everyone had retired to their homes high amongst the trees, or to the Inn. Serinae was in the parlour room of her own house; she found she relished the solitude. The door to the balcony remained open allowing a cool breeze to blow through the room carrying a fragrance upon it that excited a long forgotten memory deep within her mind. She was suddenly weary but she did not feel like going to her bed. It was as if her life had caught up with her at last, she felt a deep tiredness. Not fatigue, but a sensation of at last being at rest after much arduous but rewarding toil. She shook her head and pondered on making a trip to the artisan quarter of the city. There was a busy place both night and day, she found herself constantly drawn there, for many of the T’Iea they had rescued from R’Iggorr’Thegoran remained very skilled in many of the arts and crafts of old. Much that she thought lost in time had been revived and she revelled in being there, watching the artists hand as it were. The smiths and artificers had come into their own, for here it seemed in Elit G’fedrel, their skills thrived and grew for after all here was where those skills were originally honed and fine-tuned.
But after a while she rested her head back against the chair, her eyes closed. Her mind wandered. She remembered how long, long ago gentle fingers would stroke the back of her hand as it rested upon a similar chair in a very different place. She remembered the soft kiss that was placed gently and affectionately upon her forehead. She imagined she could detect something else, another’s scent upon the breeze, an exciting aroma she knew from old, from another age, a perfume to her nostrils that she cherished as belonging to someone she knew very well and had been very close to. Suddenly she thought she heard a gentle laugh, one that she also knew well, but possibly it was just her imagination thinking back to a time long gone. She opened one eye just to be sure, but no one stood in the room with her.
She smiled and sighed, drew her bare feet up onto the chair and wrapping the hem of her nightdress around them she enveloped both arms around her knees, she then spoke as if another was in the room with her. “Tezrin, be still. Wait for me there in the halls of Eny’Nin’Rel, for my time will surely come. But in the meantime please give my love to your father and both our mother’s, tell them I will join them soon enough.”
She was perhaps rewarded by a warm glow within her being. There she sat in the chair in front of the hearth her eyes closed. She dreamt of woodlands and seascapes, of high mountains and white beaches, of white city walls and the beauty of waterfalls cascading downwards lost in the mists below. She sighed at these thoughts, all the cherished experiences of a long life. She remembered all of those she had known, those she had the honour of knowing, of fighting alongside for goodness and for truth and light. Those that had shaped her, moulded her, made her who she was. She was thankful to them all, even those that she had treated less than favourably at times. She silently thanked them all and asked for their forgiveness. She drifted into sleep.
Then he came gently to her as if billowing upon the fragrant breeze. A pure bright light shone all around, no not around, from within him, he was the source of the brilliant light, it shone from him. He approached with a beaming smile, both arms held out. She was not frightened, how could she be, here was pure and unconditional love. He took her up as if she were but a feather and held her gently in the embrace of his everlasting love, surrounded her in the warm glow of the light of truth. She looked upon that smiling face through a curtain of joyful tears. A fatherly face, a face full of knowledge, full of the knowledge of everything. Pure features unblemished and unmarked by anything sour or tainted, a face radiant with the extreme beauty of perfection and purity. Serinae felt an overwhelming sense of deep satisfaction and peace. In an instant all fatigue and tiredness was gone from her, she felt a vitality within her deepest being like never before. In that moment he spoke and she understood everything, it was all so simple, so obvious, so easy to comprehend now that he had explained. It was all so easy. All her life’s questions had been answered in a single moment and she understood it all. She giggled and thought of the promise of a time of relaxation, of a new life spent doing, well doing the things she wanted and not what she was bound by other forces to do.
A book lay upon her lap, one slender hand held it there, she had been reading it earlier. She had borrowed it from Nar’Allia, the title on the cover was Nu’Er'Etalle. All the muscles in her body gently relaxed and she exhaled a final long breath. As her body completely stilled her arms released her knees and they both tilted to one side, the book slipped gently from the crook of her arm. It slid from her lap and landed with a dull thud upon the woollen rug that covered the floor. It lay open at the page she had last been reading.
To any able to understand the ancient T’Iea text written within the pages they would have read ……
‘The Parting of the Chosen’
The great battle is done, the war is won.
My life’s tasks I have striven to fulfil.
Some good has come of all I pray.
For this legacy I can now pass on.
To whoever may take up my rod.
For at last my labours have all but ended.
Naught is left for me, but the great journey.
One last final effort, before I rest eternal.
The ship has come hither to carry me home.
The pure white sails are unfurling.
The light of the Everlasting shines forth.
Farewell all trials and tribulation.
All I have, I count naught in gain or loss.
I return naked as the day I was born.
All that I am I hold within me.
My heart of hearts is overflowing.
My friends! I must leave you one last time.
Do not mourn; my passing is but a moment.
Until again we meet upon those sacred shores.
See the white armada sailing forth born upon his breath.
I will wait for you, look to the sea for your coming.
Do not weep for me, for I pass beyond the veil.
Rejoice, for I am chosen for great reward beyond value.
I receive at last what I have but hoped for in my dreams.
The Everlasting is calling me hither.
I can linger no longer upon what I know.
His gentle voice I can no longer deny.
For I see the way lined with silver and gold.
The gates of gilded light are swung open wide.
They welcome my return home from whence I once came.
Someone had written in a neatly flowing, well scripted hand alongside the text:
This T’Iea poem, famous for being inscribed upon the crypt of one ‘Te’Onolan’De’Frostnosse’, a T’Iea General, a ranger by all accounts, attached to the Legion of the Wind at around the time of the Sedral’coronis’et’na’tyuosd.
Te’Onolan’De’Frostnosse’s black marble crypt may still be seen where it remains amongst those of notable disposition within the
great House of Sleeping in Ter’Hadsnefel – (at least it was there the last time I was in the city!).
It remains perhaps a lasting reminder to our people of all that is good and right.
Someone had signed their initials alongside the note, – S.De.T. Then they had added, perhaps as an afterthought, or maybe someone else had added this note for the pen and ink, as was the hand in which they had been written were different, somehow brighter, fresher:
Sadly, the actual author of the poem remains unknown.
THE END
Epilogue
It took many hundreds of years of man but the elder races slowly dwindled from the world. Most decided that they would return to the void dwellings, the sanctuaries where the Combined Races once lived, those places where for many centuries they had lived and worked in their toils. The Combined Races slowly disappeared from the world leaving it to the race of men once more. But humankind struggle to believe what they cannot see or hold and after several generations of men had passed no man lived that actually knew of the Combined Races first hand, so they became but myth and legend.
The Keepers remained close to the world of men for many ages so that any of the Combined Races left behind who wished could traverse the void ways to where the rest of their race dwelled.
The Combined Races all did well now that they were returned at last to their natural environments. The T’Iea peoples to Elit G’fedrel, the Grûndén to Târgrûûn Døe, the Pnook to Babaptruek the Ognods to Groouunden and of course the Keepers who remained in TeraT’Inu’Itil which had always been their sanctuary within the voids.
Some individuals of the Combined Races did stay behind however within the world of men. They remained by free choice until one by one they died of old age or of other causes. These few became legend in the eyes of mankind, for they still outlived generations of humans. But human kind is forgetful and these few became treated in the main with some mistrust as successive generations of man either forgot, or the stories told by their forefathers became confused or just too unbelievable to accept. So it was that many of the Combined Races that remained upon the world hid away from it, went to live in the more remote corners of the world, away from the narrower minds of mankind. There came a day of course when the last remaining survivor died, alone and unseen by any other, an event not noticed by anyone except Eny’Nin’Rel, the father of all. Then truly only the stories of old remained.
But every now and again a strange skeleton of an unexplained being would be discovered or strange unexplainable item or other remains. But no human could remember what these were, so stories were made up to explain away the unknown. Within every human culture stories abound of gods and heroes of the ancient past, of beings with supernatural power and strength. Of dwarves and of giants. Of the little folk and of the faery. Tales of mystical beasts, some reputed to be helpful and some mischievous if not malevolent. All human societies share something of these stories a variation from the long forgotten past without any plausible explanation. A way perhaps of explaining away the unknown with a wave of the hand.
Sometimes humans themselves exhibit strange characteristics, unusually great age, or strange unexplainable feats of mind and body, manifestations that seem to go beyond that of normal human capability. Throwbacks perhaps caused by ancient bloodlines where a maiden of one of the Combined Races had married a human male or visa-versa. Also stories abound of ghosts and ghouls, beings from the spirit world, beings without physical form that seem trapped between worlds. Tales of great fire breathing beasts from the clouds able to reign mass destruction down upon the world, or stories of hairy monstrous man-beasts living in the higher mountain valleys. Even of great sea monsters rising from the depths.
But with the Combined Races gone, it was inevitable that men quickly forgot the existence of the ancient places and the other races they once shared the world with. Men of different casts told tales of lost cites, reality and imagination became swirled together, romantic notions told of places like the honoured halls of Camelot, the desert gold of El Dorado, the snow bound mysticism of Shangri-La and of course mythical cities of ancient wisdom and power like Atlantis. Many men sort these places, driven by the romance of them, or by the promise of riches beyond imagination. They made it their life’s work to discover. Many were sure at times that they had found them and even unto utter ruin would not concede that such places did not exist.
But still to this day some archaeologist may find an odd looking artefact or dig up what remains of an ancient city. Find some item the explanation or location of which defies all knowledge. Hints at lost civilisations with a culture and understanding that belies belief. Strange outlines that can be seen from the clouds and mysterious artefacts found deep beneath the oceans and in the more remote corners of the world. Stories told by lone travellers and the ranting’s of the dispossessed. Tales with no scientific explanation and therefore deemed as having no grounding in reality.
On a wide open moor in the east remains a hill upon the pinnacle of which for some inexplicable reason there is a large block of stone. Jet black is this stone, perfectly smooth and oblong in shape, it glistens in the sunlight, it is made of some strange dense material, nowhere else in the world can this mineral be found. It shrugs off rain and does not erode even though it is battered by the elements almost constantly. It will not be moved or marked in any way. The men that live in the surrounding lands do not go near the hill on which lies the block of stone. They say it has evil properties and all those that touch the stone or even approach it are taken ill and die or are driven mad, or even disappear never to return. They say the place is guarded by a secretive race of mischievous, diminutive beings they call Pixies. Ghostly visages have been reported as being seen in the area throughout history, spirits roaming the heather as if lost or searching.
But what of the house in Amentura? All that knowledge and history, that culture and science. Well it is still there of course. The town of Amentura then? I hear you ask, where is the town? Who knows, maybe it has become a city known now by another name. Maybe you will find it, if you look in the right place. Maybe you will find it where you least expect. Perhaps see some of its knowledge reflected in the musings of others, or see it in your children’s abilities and interests. Perhaps you will see it in the face of another. Maybe even discover part of it within yourself when you least expect it. I encourage you to look for it always. Never ever close your mind my friend. Treat nothing with triviality; never brush something off as impossible or improbable, for everything has roots in something, whether those origins are remembered or not with the passing of the generations. Embrace your thoughts, explore your notions and do not discard any fruits of your imagination for they are all, all of them very precious.
Remember always that more often than not, the most extraordinary things that may happen come from the most insignificant of beginnings. All that is needed is a little faith. I say again, be adventurous my friend, open your mind wide, ignore that small voice that may tell you differently, trying its best to hold you back, to place a barrier to your imagination. Do not allow yourself to be bound by the confines of the world, any world. Refuse the selfish limitations imposed by the will and thoughts of others. Grasp every opportunity, for who knows where it may lead.
In the silent moments, look for Amentura my friend; I assure you it is there, but a short journey away if you only wish to attempt it. For the only barrier stopping you is the one you create yourself.
But I, dear reader, I am thankful. For I count myself fortunate to have lived in such a time, a time of Serinae and of Minervar and of Nar’Allia and all of their companions and kin. A time to be proud of. A time worthy of remembrance. For I will remember all of them, to my final hour.
So then, until that hour comes who knows; I may even write more, for on this great journey I have the feeling that I will have plenty of time to do so. Until that is to a time when the Maker calls me home and all the answers to all the questions are made clear at last.
> So, until then, I remain your servant as always.
Solin De'Teinde.
My dear reader,
So there you have it. The end of the story. Well at least this part.
It has been unimaginable fun writing it and I wonder what will come next. So perhaps you have a suggestion? Maybe there is something in this tale that you would like expanded upon, or perhaps explained in greater detail? Well drop me a line. Who knows if I am persuaded I may pack up my pen and paper, go and seek out Solin and ask her what she knows!
The author may be contacted at
[email protected].
Until then perhaps you may wonder how the elder races came to be in the world? Or what the events were that the Grand Master – Borhran undertook that struck such fear into the elder races? Perhaps you would like to know more of Serinae’s parentage? Then there is the mystery surrounding the evil entity within the Rift? And of course there is that great Star Ship hidden in the voids?
If you would like to learn more of the ancient history hinted at throughout this trilogy, then perhaps you would like to read the next and still future book –
‘In the Meadow of my Dreams’- A prequel to the trilogy ‘A Twist in the Tale’.
In the meantime if you enjoyed this book and indeed this trilogy (or perhaps you found it lacking in some way), then please do leave a constructive comment on the book download page. It is likely that your views and remarks are the only ones available to any author like myself submitting works for download, thus they are all invaluable feedback and gratefully received.
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