A Land Far Away

“There are some who call this war a Crusade. Others are calling it The Return.”

“What do you call it Ilemar?”

“I call it duty”

----

The young elven boy ran to catch up with his father, his silver hair flowing behind him, twisting this way and that in the breeze as he maneuvered his way through the crowd along the side of the road. The boy popped up at his father's side and tugged eagerly on his sleeve, speaking quickly in elven, “Father! Father! What's going on?”

The man smiled and looked down at his son, speaking in a calm, warm tone, “Just some of the nobles returning from the capital, son. They've been meeting with the Queen and we're waiting to see what news they bring about certain... grown up issues”

“Ooooooooooh....”. The boy looked to the ground a moment as he tried to process what his father had just told him. His head snapped back up again and he tugged at his father's sleeve once more. “Father! I cannot see! I want to see what news they bring too!”

The man chuckled quietly and nodded a bit as he bent down to pick his son up and seated him on his shoulders. “Of course you do Delawyn. You've always got to see everything, don't you?”

Delawyn's pale blue eyes went wide as dinner plates as he surveyed the scene before him. There were so many people in so many fancy robes, gowns and armors. They had guards on all sides, their armor polished to a shine as they carried the banners of the houses they represented. The boy's eyes locked on one man near the center of the procession. His outfit seemed to be a fusion of polished plate and soft, flowing robes. Around his neck hung an ornate holy symbol of Corellon. He moved forward with graceful, deliberate steps. He watched the goings on around him with an expression of calm serenity. Delawyn just stared at the man for several moments, then glanced down as he tapped his father on the head several times in quick succession. “Father! Father! Who is /that/?”, he said as he pointed at the man in the center.

The boy's father craned his neck as he looked in the direction his son was pointing. “Hmm? Ah, that is Seveiril Miritar. He is the Lord of Elion and a High Priest of Corellon.”

Delawyn continued to stare as he whispered aloud, “Wow....”. The Lord seemed to have noticed the young boy so blatantly pointing right at him from the crowd and looked directly at Delawyn, smiling faintly at the amazed expression on the boy's face. Delawyn simply grinned and waved excitedly.

----

Delawyn climbed out of the boat onto the small dock in Emerald Springs. He looked over the group, a couple dozen or so, that they had escorted back to the Springs. All looked battered and worn from the battle along the road from Ashabenford. Several mounted knights were dismounting and taking a moment's rest while they could get it. There was more strength here than usually traveled with Captain E'less. He looked over to the Captain where she stood speaking to an older looking man in a well maintained plate harness. His brow furrowed slightly as he examined the man, he looked somehow familiar. He had been tossing around powerful invocations in the fight on the road, and probably save Delawyn and Laurelin's lives. Clearly he was someone important, clergy of some sort, and the reason for all the knights.

Captain E'less gestured him over with a wave of her hand. Delawyn approached and bowed his head as he spoke, “Captain. It is good to see you are well. I am glad we could be of assistance”

The Captain bowed her head in return. “Thank you for your timely arrival”. She cleared her throat quietly and gestured to the older man next to her, who simply smiled politely and bowed his head as he was introduced. “Allow me to introduce Lord Seiveril Miritar. Lord of Elion and High Priest of Corellon”.

Delawyn's posture stiffened almost instantly, surprise written in ever facet of his expression as he quickly bowed low. He spoke quickly and crisply in elven, “An honor to meet you, milord. I am Delawyn Eiravel, syolkiir of Corellon, originally from Elion and currently in the service of Emerald Springs”. As he spoke a flood of memories rushed to the front of his mind, from the first time he had seen the Lord of his home city, to all he had heard of him during his time as Lord and his time in the church. From what he knew, Miritar was a man who, despite being nobility, lacked all usual the noble pretentions. He was humble, helpful, and genuinely cared for his people. He was a man Delawyn had come to respect immensely during his time as an acolyte. Yet this man, who had been Lord of Delawyn's home as a child, who had been a high priest nearly as long as Delawyn had been alive, and who was now the Commander of the forces of Evermeet, stood before him introducing himself as a peer, rather than a superior.

Miritar returned the bow and smiled politely as he spoke, “I may be a Lord in Elion, but here I am simply another of The People”. He was being polite. They both knew that his status in the church would afford him status near to that of a Lord no matter where he was. But it was an important gesture nonetheless. It said that he did not expect to be treated as nobility. He had earned his position among the Coronal's clergy, he was not born into it. It was an important distinction.

“We have much to discuss. Is there some place we might speak?”, Miritar said as he looked about the village.

“Of course, milord. The study in the shrine should provide us a good measure of privacy. This way, please.” Delawyn gestured up the hill toward the shrine and set off in that direction. Adellie was already halfway up the hill and headed toward the shrine. Laurelin and Roderick followed behind.

Delawyn waited near the door to the study as Lord Miritar entered and bowed his head near the altar to Corellon. A striking young woman accompanied him, her eyes wandering about the shrine. He could hear Adellie in the study already, moving chairs around so everyone would have a seat. Delawyn opened and held the door for the others as they entered the study.

Lord Miritar stopped briefly as he passed, smiling slightly as he spoke. “Their presence is strong here cousin”.

Delawyn could not help but smile as his chest swelled with pride. It was a silly reaction, he knew, like a child being praised by his instructor. At that moment though, he really did not care. He filed into the study behind the others and gestured to the chairs before turning to hang up his cloak.

“Please, everyone have a seat. You must be tired after you journey here, eventful as it was.”, Del said, trying to keep his tone polite and measured to conceal the strange sort of excitement that filled him.

They all settled into chairs, and Lord Miritar gestured to young woman seated next to him as he said, “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Ilsevele”.

They all bowed their heads and then slipped into conversation about the events at hand. They discussed the attacks on Evermeet, Evereska, and the High Forest, the call for an army to march on Faerun, the defeats at Evereska and the Lonely Moor that had driven the deamonfey back to Myth Drannor, and the difficulties of reclaiming the city and finally destroying the deamonfey. As the conversation carried on, something stirred within Delawyn that was most unusual. He felt compelled to act, but not for what he thought the obvious moral reasons. There was an almost nationalistic feel to it. He wanted to see Myth Drannor rise again. He wanted to see the glory of the past restored to The People. He had spent so long daydreaming about life in the City of Song he had read and hear tales about. That it might one day be restored had long been one of his dreams. The other feeling was an uncanny sense of loyalty to Lord Miritar and his cause. Delawyn would follow his Lord to the very end if need be.

“So this is what duty feels like...”, he thought to himself as the others talked. Part of him rebelled. He owed no real allegiance to Seiveril Miritar. They were both High Priests, even if Miritar had more standing and power in the church. That was the trick though. Lord Miritar was not asking for allegiance, loyalty, or submission. He was simply asking for help. He did not expect Delawyn's allegiance or unwavering loyalty, and it was because he did not expect them that Delawyn so readily gave them.

Delawyn stood amidst the rubble of the walls he had erected along the north wall. He kept his head bowed with one arm across his stomach and his other hand over his eyes, elbow tucked close against him. Everything around him was deadly still. He told the guards he would watch the wall so they might get some rest, they had just been through a battle after all. There were no animals in the forest this evening, nor even so much as a breeze to stir the leaves of the trees. It was if the very forest itself stood in awe of the destruction wrought by the battle.

He raised his head slowly and opened his eyes, letting his hand slip down to wrap itself around the crescent moon that hung around his neck. Before him in the pale moonlight lay the corpses of countless bugbears, all pierced with a plethora of arrows. He turned and looked over his shoulder to where he and Roderick had laid the bodies of the fallen Vale Guards. Their bodies had all been laid out respectfully, eyes closed and hands folded over their chests with weapon in hand. The knot in the pit of his stomach tightened as he gazed at the faces of his fallen kin and he turned away, closing his eyes and bowing his head as he raised his hand to cover his eyes once more. He took a deep breath and held it for several seconds as he forced the grief down again

“Such is war...”, his own words echoed through his head. His voice sounded cold and detached, and he doubted they had sounded any better to Laurelin when he said it. He did not understand this voice that spoke through him at times. There was such complete emotional detachment there that it truly just seemed cold. It was not something he would think himself capable of had he not done so time and time again. It was as if Corellon himself shielded Delawyn's mind against the pain and grief until the task was done. It made him uncomfortable, but he understood the necessity. There was a time to grieve, a time to mourn, but it was not during the battle. The pain inflicted by the loss of so many kin would only have been multiplied had the battle been lost because he and the other had been distracted.

Delawyn's ears twitched as he heard footsteps on the stone behind him. His guards were returning from their reverie. They were not really his guards, and he knew that, but such was how he thought of them nonetheless. These were the guards of Emerald Springs, the men and women he had spent so many nights on the walls with in the past. He knew their names, their pasts, their hopes, their dreams, and their families. After the drow attack on the village that had taken so many guards, he had developed an almost fatherly sort of instinct to try and protect them.

One of the guards put a hand on Delawyn's shoulder as he said, “Thank you for taking part of the watch. You should go get some rest now as well”

The knot in Delawyn's stomach tightened further, until the pain of it burned. So few of the Emerald Springs Guard had survived the battle. The three here now were most of those left. He would have to bury the rest. He would have to explain to their loved ones what happened. He clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain his outward composure.

One of the guards spoke up hesitantly, “Delawyn... are you alright?”

He nodded and turned, muttering a quiet “thank you” as he started walking back toward the shrine quickly, the hem of his robes brushing along the ground as he went. He walked straight toward the back room in the shrine, double checking that the main room was empty as he closed the door behind him. He walked over and settled into his usual chair as his outward composure finally collapsed. He let the knot in his stomach unwind, the pain spreading through his body as his grief overtook him. His shoulders heaved in sobs as he wept. He wept for those who had been lost, and for those who would yet be lost in this Crusade. He wept for the broken dreams and broken families, and wept for all the beauty and joy that had been taken from the world by the beast of war. When finally he had no more tears to shed, he took a deep, raspy breath and let it out slowly as a sort of numb calm set in.

Delawyn pushed himself out of his chair and to his feet again and walked over to the storage chest by the wall. He opened it up and pulled out some incense, then walked back out into the main room of the shrine. He set the incense down next the to the symbol of Sehanine and whispered a few hushed words, causing a spark to shoot from his fingers to light the incense. He bowed his head and offered a prayer to Lady Moonbow to watch over the fallen on their journey to Arvandor, then walked over and settled down in front of the altar to Corellon. As he began his prayers, a warm, comforting feeling took the place of the knot that had been in his stomach and spread through his body as he prayed. When he finished his prayers, he genuinely felt better, but physical and emotional exhaustion set in and Delawyn let himself slip into reverie right there in front of the faint glow of Corellon's crescent moon.