Chapter 5: Concerning Fair Elves
During this time that the blood-elves had their own adventures, the fair elves—those who viewed themselves as the right elves as opposed to the rebels—had trials of their own. For a while—roughly eleven hundred years—all went well with the fair elves and Sanguinar as their leader. Yet in the year 1500 CL (after the Creation of Lataria), the fair elves started to disagree with one another about Sanguinar. Those who had been there since the first split remembered Sanguinar from then, and noticed the changes he had undergone: seemingly more power hungry and demanding. Some of the younger elves recognized that for so many years they had had the same leader, and felt that another should be given a chance to claim leadership of the elves.
This group of elves—rebels, they too came to be called at the time—tried to change the system of leadership for the fair elves. However, those still loyal to Sanguinar rebuked those who wanted to start a new way or tradition. At first, those who wanted a change accepted the rebuke of the loyal elves, and tried to push any thoughts of dissent out of their minds. But this effort only made their uneasiness come back even stronger. Instead of voicing their feelings about the unbalanced power of Sanguinar, they kept to themselves so secretly that not even Sanguinar or any of the loyal elves noticed their meetings with one another. In their closed councils they could discover only so much of Sanguinar’s plans and doings, but nothing of his true intentions to gain ultimate control of Lataria. Indeed, they did not even know that Sanguinar was a god and had abandoned the other gods and the charges they represented.
Recognizing their lack of knowledge in this matter, they called upon the gods to aid them. Since Sanguinar was spending all his time in elven form, he did not hear or feel them call, yet the other gods did. The elves specifically called for the help of Parrazanad, the god of knowledge, and the gods knew this. Yet they too held their own council and decided which one of the remaining gods should visit the desperate elves. Even though before only one god at a time could take physical form, enough time had passed that those remaining had gained enough power among them that now another could take corporeal form. Knowledge, Parrazanad and the other gods knew, could be harmful to these elves, because they might not know what to do with this knowledge and so hurt themselves instead of improving their situation. So the six gods decided that the elves needed the truth. Knowledge about what was happening around them would not help the elves, but the truth would reveal to them the real nature of Sanguinar and their surroundings.
So the next time when many of the discontented elves gathered secretly, the god of truth, Aadelawen, appeared before them, in the midst of their group. At first there had been no one standing in that spot, and then in the flicker of an eye, Aadelawen stood before them. They saw a tall, beautiful woman, cloaked in grey and with black hair cascading down her back. At this sight many of the elves backed away from her, wary of her sudden appearance and her identity. Those who did not step back from her found themselves thinking that such a beautiful woman should be clothed richly and adorned with the finest jewels. Aadelawen waited for the elves to settle down before speaking to them, yet before she could address them one of the elves, Wentadn, approached her, asking, “Parrazanad?”
She smiled sympathetically, looking down at him for she towered above even the tallest elf there. “No, I am not Parrazanad. I am Truth, Aadelawen, and I have come to help you in your trials.”
Disappointment shone on their faces as they realized that their summons had been answered differently. Wentadn asked, “Why have you come, and not Parrazanad? We need answers, and only knowledge can give that to us.”
Again she smiled sadly: “You are mistaken, dear elves. Knowledge, Parrazanad and we other gods have decided, would not benefit you as you think it would. Knowledge is dangerous, and yet you already live in a dangerous time. Now, we believe that Truth will serve you better, and in the end will answer many if not all your questions. With truth, you see, comes knowledge but with the added wisdom of what is true and what is false. Therefore, I am come to you to reveal the truth of what you ask.”
One of the women, Kadnal, stepped forward, skeptical about Aadelawen: “Why should we trust you? In the old days we trusted Sanguinar because of his power and commanding presence—he looked the part. But you go against everything we know, so why should we trust you?”
“I could have appeared to you as Sanguinar did—a tall, handsome male with a deep clear voice to command. But even the form I have taken demands respect and has a commanding presence. You want to know the answer to many things and in the past you have learned those answers from those who were outspoken, but now you will learn to listen to the soft-spoken. Truth is powerful, just as mighty as hunger, yet the truth can also be silent and hidden so that when among other things it is not given the chance to be heard. I am Truth, and as the truth I came to you plainly, just as I would be otherwise and just as the truth is—the truth, no more, no less.”
Nouhues, an elf who had not spoken to her before, said, “Tell us about Sanguinar, for we feel that he is not as he seems.”
Aadelawen nodded. “You are correct in guessing that he is different than what he appears. He has more power than any of us and therefore has set some things in motion that even his most trusted and honored servants do not know about. However, if you would ask your brothers and sisters whom you call the blood-elves, you would discover some of the things Sanguinar has done. Do you remember that it was Sanguinar who tortured the blood-elves when they were banished? Once Sanguinar finished plaguing the blood-elves, he created lamias.”
“What is a lamia?” One of the elves asked.
Aadelawen shot him a sideways glance: “A lamia is Sanguinar’s first creation that represents parts of his desires. Perhaps a demonstration will help you understand better.” She shot forth her hand and in it appeared a snake that she let slither to the floor. “A lamia is a serpent in its true form, but one who has the power may turn this snake into its other form.” The elves guessed that Aadelawen performed this magic in her head for they did not hear anything except the snapping and grinding sound of bones. The next thing they knew they were looking at a woman who was so fair to look upon that this woman made Aadelawen look like an ugly hag who had the bony hand of power. “The only other form of the lamia is the form of a woman—an evil enchantress who will lure any to their doom. Women she will poison so they will become as she—a monster. From men she will drink their blood and leave the carcass to rot. Children she will feast upon by swallowing whole. When she chooses she can turn back into her serpentine form, and strike.”
When Aadelawen said this, the woman, who had been lying on the floor, turned back into a snake, reared up with its strong muscles, lunged toward the little boy, bared its fangs, and swallowed the boy whole. Not even a scream or cry issued from the boy as his death came so swiftly. Vuewfaj, the mother, sprang forward, crying, wanting to somehow retrieve her son and penalize the lamia. Instead, the lamia drove its poison filled teeth into the mother’s arm, and to everyone’s horror, even the woman’s, she too turned into a snake.
Her husband stepped forward and reached forth his hands to shake Aadelawen’s shoulders, but stopped himself when he saw how much taller she was. “Bring her back,” he cried, letting Aadelawen and the others see his tears. “Bring them back, I say.”
Aadelawen shook her head sorrowfully. “I cannot undo what is already past. Through great misfortune you have witnessed the treachery of Sanguinar. It is better that you have to deal with these two deaths now than remain ignorant of the evil of which Sanguinar is capable, and suffer later.” She waved her hand over the two snakes and they disappeared.
The elves were silent a few minutes, and Aadelawen waited patiently for them to speak again. Another man asked after contemplating on what happened: “What should we do? Our suspicions that Sanguinar has more power than we supposed is now confirmed, but what do we do now?
Surely we’re not going to do nothing, especially since we’ve lost our own people—even the blood-elves.”
All of them looked at Aadelawen expectantly, awaiting her next order in their struggle. After a while, she in turn asked them, “Before I appeared, what was your original plan?”
Nouhues answered: “We were going to break away from Sanguinar and the other elves. We were going to move in to a different land, far from them like the blood-elves. However, instead of going north, we were going to travel west and south.”
When this elf finished describing their plans, Aadelawen nodded, “Yes. Do you see? You have known all along what to do. Seeing thus far into the future will set you on your way to freedom from Sanguinar, so do not trouble yourselves with what will come next. Soon, all will be revealed. Trust me.” With that being said and no more, Aadelawen disappeared as if Aadelawen had never stood before them. Even after a few seconds had gone by, they would have thought she was a dream, except for the horrible reality that the lamia she had brought forth from the air had swallowed a little boy and poisoned his mother.
Days passed and the elves appeared to be doing nothing to carry out their plans until a young elf—one very few of them recognized—named Aarod, packed all his belongings he wanted to take with him. In the middle of the day, in the broad daylight, he set out from his home with his horse bearing his bags. Soon all the work in this part halted as more and more elves noticed what he was doing. This action was found so peculiar to the loyalists that they sent for Sanguinar. Before long, Sanguinar approached the young elf and observed: “Many of your belongings are packed. What are you doing? Are you going away?”
This young elf answered, “Yes. I am leaving this place, I am leaving some of my family and friends and neighbors, and I am leaving you, Sanguinar. I have had enough of this arrangement so I am leaving to start anew.” Here he turned away from Sanguinar and scanned the elves’ faces around him. “Anyone who wishes to go with me may. I will start off slowly so you can catch up with me on the road.”
There was almost no point in saying this last part since those discontented elves had rushed to pack their things the moment they saw this young elf leaving. After saying this, the young elf starting walking again. Those loyal to Sanguinar thought that he would get angry and bring the boy back, or cause some other great calamity to befall him. But Sanguinar did nothing—he just stood there, letting the boy and other elves leave his realm. Then he said, “If any of you want to leave, you may do so, I won’t keep you.”
These words—though possibly the kindest he had ever spoken to the elves—did not sway any of the rebels to stay or any of the loyalists to leave. If anything, he only confirmed the loyalists’ belief that he was a good leader—the best they could have, and that it would be foolish to leave such a sure arrangement.
So the boy, the rebels’ new leader, led them west through Lataria, all the while they kept in mind how far they were traveling away from the others. For some time they passed along a mountainous range with the desert plains to their right. It seemed that immediately after they passed the desert they came to fertile soil, yet they did not stop there. Wanting security in their new home, they then turned northward, still following the desert and the barren lands. After they had followed this way for a few days, they headed west once more until they came to a valley and its hills that appeared could make a home for them.
During their first few weeks, they settled in this land: situating homes and determining how they would live. Until this point, they needed not hunt—eating berries and fruits of the trees and plants they passed. But the winter was quickly approaching—a coldness in the air that they had known every once in a while where they used to live became more pronounced. At first only the night was cold, but then all the nights and days alike took on a strange chill that the elves did not expect nor know how to deal with. The plants seemed dead; and almost everything around them withered. They suffered so much already that a company of the strongest elves searched for food and materials that would keep them warm. The young boy, Aarod, who had been their leader all this time, led this company. When this company returned to their camp, without Aarod, they explained how he had gone ahead of them out of sight. When they came to where he had been, his cloak lay on the ground—nothing else. They had searched the area, but could not find him: they supposed that a wild animal had eaten him.
They mourned his apparent death, but did not let his departure affect their preparations for the winter. Their first leader, Nouhues, who had been with these elves from the beginning, even before Aarod, became their leader once more.
Over the years these elves adjusted themselves to the changes in temperature and weather in this new land, and they named their city Zargol. Later, their region became known as Zargolith, even by the camps of men scattered across the desert. Once these elves situated themselves in Zargol, they sent riders to the old city that belonged to Sanguinar and his followers to return with the latest news.