Good Omens

[NUADA SILVERLANCE]

Date: 2008 October 08

The rain fell silently from the dark, overcast night sky as Prince Nuada returned to the crowded streets and alleys of the Troll Market. He had made his home here, at least temporarily, though he traveled much too frequently on his own business as of late to really be settled. The life of a rogue seemed to fit him like a glove, although he missed his twin sister Nuala more often than he cared to admit. He wondered, as he walked the streets, if she would recognize him now. If her feelings would be the same as they once were, or if he would be greeted like a complete and total stranger. It had been many years, many seasons, and many days since he had last seen his father or his sister. They had even relocated their refuge since they had last spoken. His decision would not falter. He stood firm in his self-imposed exile until the time was right to reclaim their birthright, he would wait until the people needed him most. Though, he knew in his heart that his time away from his twin was nearing an end. His time away from his responsibility was here. His people did need him, especially if they were living underground of all places. There was no honor to be had in this situation and who was responsible for their situation? Humans of course.

Humans had control over everything. Greed had burned a hole in their heart that they could not fill. Even after generations of attempting to fill this hole, their lust for power seemed to be insatiable. While Nuada cherished his father, King Balor, he was unable to accept his decision, this 'truce' with the inferior race. The humans had everything in their power, in their possession, the idea of a truce was ridiculous. The truce was nothing, save one-sided. Mankind could not be trusted to hold the end of the simplest bargain without cheating. It was no secret to Nuada that the only time a human would keep their end of the deal was when there was something to gain. Something in return. Some form of instant (or drawn out) gratification that would quench their greed for maybe five minutes before they found something else they desired to 'work' for.

Sighing, Nuada turned the corner down a dark alley and made his way toward the pub. He had been underground in the sewers today training with his sword and lance, and of course had been longing for the company of his companion Mr. Wink, a troll in whom he'd fashioned a metal hand for. Tinkering was one of Nuada's favorite past times, and he had always enjoyed creating and repairing items by himself. He was quite the handy man, and it made him feel a sense of accomplishment to finish such tasks, even if they were unimportant. The time was drawing nearer and nearer, and training was of the essence. Then again, so was time. Mr. Wink had listened to and helped Nuada devise a plan to come out of exile, and reclaim the lost crown piece of Bethmoora. The one the humans had taken for granted and were about to auction off. Stupid inferior beings.

Entering the pub, Nuada took a seat in the darkest corner of the dining chamber and sat down. This was a small pub known as the Leaky Dinghy and it was run by a group of ogres, with whom he had become fond of. Nuada isn't the hardest person to get along with, so long as you are not a human, though he is commanding, insensitive, and does not let anyone close. He sat down, though his golden eyes fell on the barkeeper, he knew he would not have to order anything as he had been coming regularly as of late. It was important to keep ones strength and health, and that entitled a healthy diet. He felt the eyes fall upon him, as he had not bothered to cloak himself. He did not pay any mind to anyone who feared him, or loved him, or simply did not know what to think. He was coming out of exile, and of course that means that he would be making himself known.

[SNOW MOLDOVAN]

The rain had soaked Snow to the bones. Snow, the half-elf, longing to see the world above with his own eyes. The world that he had been taught had lost sight of their own morals and promises, a world full of greed. Never the less, the world of greed and demise was still part of his origin. He had heard stories of the world above, but he knew that the Fae court would never agree to his leaving. He was half elf, and half human, though he had been raised in the world of myth so leaving could betray a secret they had worked hard to keep. He stopped in the local pub for a quick meal before his long journey, long because he had nowhere to go. He would have to seek out his human family, or work alongside them. He too, wore a robe to cover his identity, as he had carried his travel pack full of some clothes and his violin. He would leave the Troll Market as soon as the path was clear. His mother was a human, and his father had been permitted to marry her, so could they be so bad? After two hundred years, he was still able to be surprised by the closed-mindedness of the mythical races, and humans alike. Why was it so impossible to co-exist among each other?

Snow was saddened because of his decision. Who would he turn to in the world above? How would he survive? There were so many questions left unanswered. Frowning, Snow grabbed a menu and took a quick glance at it. He was relatively young for an elf, but ancient for a human. Were all half elves so young looking in old age? Browsing over the menu he glanced up at the ogre who had waited at his table. "I'll take a stew, please... If I may that is..." It was the first time he had ordered for himself. He had been trained in the art of war by the Fae Court, and had been very sheltered with the ways of living. Fortunately, the boy was able to adapt to his environment quickly. The ogre demanded some form of payment and held out his hand. Snow's eyes widened as the ogre got frustrated while he was digging through his pocket in search of some form of payment. He was surprised even further when the ogre lifted him by the collar of his shirt. "P-Please.. I..." He started as the ogre raised his fist angrily and prepared to strike.

Snow braced himself turning his head away eyes closed, both hands wrapped around the ogre's large hand. He squirmed, but was easily overpowered by the large ogre. Just then, as his head was turned, his eyes fell on a face easily recognized by his people. Prince Nuada. A Prince who he had heard much of, for hating humans. Why did this mans approval matter to him so much? His eyes widened and it took all the effort in his body to not allow his jaw to drop. The ogre was speaking to him in a tongue Snow didn't understand, still threatening him with his fist. Snow focused his attention once more on the keeps host. It seemed the ogre didn't speak the language he had learned, and he had even taken the time to learn the human language. Perhaps the ogre did speak in his tongue but was testing his intellect or something before proceeding to kill him. Snow stared into the creatures eyes pleadingly unable to understand the words it was speaking. "S-sir?" He stammered. "I'm sorry, I don't understand!" He stated honestly.

[NUADA SILVERLANCE]

The tall silhouette, clad in an elven robe, had caught the prince's attention from the moment it had arrived. At first, even the prince had assumed it was an elf, but then he caught a glimpse of the boys eyes. Blue. Blue and familiar. Familiar meaning: It was a human. Nuada's gaze hardened as he studied the creature, a creature full of greed and ignorance. He scowled. The secret of the Troll Market was supposed to be kept among the mythical creatures, had his father really let the secret of the underground fall into the hands of such garbage? Folding his arms, Nuada observed patiently, feeling that justice was served when the ogre had seemingly agreed that the Troll Market was no place for a pathetic human. The corners of his mouth turned to a smirk as the man had tried to place an order, and the ogre, in ogre-speak had simply stated 'We don't serve humans here' and the man had rummaged his pockets for some way to pay. How like a human. Money was everything to them, and they thought they could buy the world if they had enough of if.

Having hoped the evening would have been uneventful, the prince had all ready given up hope on such fantasies. His hand resting on the hilt of his spear, his cold eyes did not move away from the human. He would not be allowing a human to leave his peoples home so dishonored, and alive. It pained the prince to think that the elves had been run underground along with mythical creatures and now their honor had been completely stolen by a tainted human. The ogre had knocked back the mans hood in what appeared to be a form of strangling. The man had struggled, but like all humans proved himself to be inferior to the mythical creature before him. It was only then that Nuada noticed the smallest hints of Fae traits in the boy. Scowling again, he realized this was a half-breed. Not completely worthless, though that might not be able to be said about the boys father. Mating with humans. Scum.

"You there." Nuada practically spat, demanding the attention of the entire pub as he rose to his full height from his chair. He strode in long, quick strides to the ogre holding the boy, and nodded to the owner of the establishment. No mythical being would dare dispute his right, or authority, while in the underground. The ogre dropped the man sending him toppling to the ground, and Nuada poised his spear over his throat. "Your name, son of man." He spat, his cold golden eyes fixated on the boys pale blue ones. Assuming he was correct that the man before him was a half elf, he would assume the boy was a little over two hundred years old. His eyes wandered over the man and he frowned, he had been trained by the Fae Court, it was easy for him, as a prince to see.

"Do not make me wait." He demanded shoving his spear gently against the mans throat. "Tell me who you are." The pub fell so quiet in his presence that the sound of a needle falling outside in the rain would have been audible in the usually loud establishment. He assumed most of his people would have remembered his name, but had thought he was myth himself. He was quite pleased that his identity seemed to be remembered among his people, and he had returned now, when they needed him most. He would free them of this hell the humans had created for them. It was his duty, and his promise, and he had not forgotten it.

[kahndranegahl]

Kahndra herself was no stranger to conflict, this much was true, however when she had waddled into the Leaky Dinghy to deliver her goods to the trolls in charge, she came accross a young-ish man with a strange scent being held aloft from his collar, and an Elf of all people holding a somewhat iconic piece of weaponry to his throat. The troll of the establishment Kahndra knew personally herself, and knew it was only slightly a show of threat, most likely due to the young man's human-like appearance.

With a soft chuckle in her throat, she sighed and shook her head, lowering her basket to the dingy floor and with two hands flipped her hood back to reveal her somewhat animalistic appearance. She unfastened her cloak most of the way, leaving the small button at the collar attached, then with a groan of cramped limbs, stood up.

To say she was tall was more or less an understatement, but she was not towering in most senses. At a few inches over six foot by the human's standard, she was taller than most of their people, and by extension almost half of the non-human folk. Her skin was covered by a soft, very fine fur, spotted in rosettes in a pattern that followed her bone structure almost like a tattoo. Her appearance was more or less like that of a snow leopard who had been mixed with a human in design, even down to similar looking facial structure. Her ears were pierced, three to an ear, all on the bottom edge of the ear. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail that vanished into the cloak, save for a few locks of hair that draped themselves down over her face.

Her cloak that had rested on the floor before now reached only to her knees, it's wet hem umcomforting to the young woman. To most people, the object that now wound itself out from underneath the hem would be disconcerting, but to her it was just another part of her. Her tail, as half as long as she was tall and tipped in a bejeweled metalic plate her people called a "Had'jik", moved from side to side as she stood upright, occasionally slapping itself against the floor with a muffled metalic thud.

Picking up her basket, she padded her way around the Ogre, patting him on the arm before uttering a few words she knew of his language, straining her throat in the process of speaking the Ogre's language. Once in the area that passed as the kitchen, she began laying out the items she had purchased, leaving it to the actual hired help to put away. Once she had finshed this particular chore, she took her now half full basket and went back into the dining area, pausing beside the Ogre once more.

"Easy big guy, I don't think we need bloodshed Bjorak. He doesn't smell like a human anyway."

When she spoke, it was with a slightly lilting accent, not really anywhere close to local, and definatly not from the US. From her perspective he was a young man, frightfully unaware of the world around him. It was only now that she caught sight of the elf once more, and found his face to have a remarkably similar line to that young woman she had met earlier in the markets. She found the sight eerily familiar to a small card she had kept from a trader she bartered it from years ago back home. The card itself was a kind of 'whos who' of the magical realm, key people to not get on their bad sides of durring their travels, or to help out if at all possible.

Finding no words coming to her throat, she simply nodded her head towards the armed elf, finding it remarkably prudent to keep bloodshed to an absolute minimum, especially her own. With a chuckling huff, she leaned back against the wall to watch, and possibly purchase a meal of her own while she waited.

[SNOW MOLDOVAN]

As if the evening could get any worse. Snow wasn't sure how it happened, it all happened so fast, but when he came too from a few seconds discomfort he stared up at golden eyes that appeared curious and possibly infuriated. The man had a long scar over both cheeks, which Snow's eyes easily recognized, only this time it wasn't the princess standing before him. He stared for a moment allowing reality to settle in, surprised by how silent the entire pub had fallen. “Your highness.” Snow stated, placing both hands over his head in an awkward surrender. “My name is Snow Moldovan, I am ... a half elf ... and the son of Forendir, and for the past two hundred and twenty four years I have served you and trained in your courts. Please do not mistake me for being one of the humans you so loathe, for I have not even walked among them for a day in my life... Though I will not deny my intentions to you, my lord. I had planned on seeing for myself just how corrupt they really are.” He explained speaking slowly fearful of the dire consequences that may await him.

His father had always told him stories of Prince Nuada, King Balor, and the Princess at the dawn of time. During the War of Man, how only the royal family holds all the truth, so forth and so on. Snow rested his eyes on the mans scars, he was not mistaken about the elf prince's identity. There was no mistaking the silverlance that rested against his throat, and in some twisted way it was almost an honor to feel the cold blade against his skin. He admired the engravings on the spear tip, and then followed the pole up to the hands that held it and back to the mans face, studying him at least once before his demise. “May I also add that it is a honor to ... finally be in your presence...” He added awkwardly wondering how ridiculous that actually sounded. “If you deem me unfit, highness, I will trust your judgment. As I have my entire life.” It was words of truth. While bits and pieces of the court was uncomfortable speaking about Nuada, Snow had always admired him. He felt he was more misunderstood than evil and selfish as some of the lore he had heard had told.

Unsure of what pieces of the story was true and which parts were fiction, the man he saw before him seemed fearless and controlling. His very presence demanded attention, but then again, if you're royalty that's something one would expect. Forcing his eyes away from the birthright that was etched across the Prince's face, Snow rested his eyes on the mans eyes out of respect. It would not do to look away from the man, and it was probably impolite to continue studying his every feature.

Admiring the elf didn't last for as long as Snow had anticipated when another strange feline creature entered the pub, and spoke directly to the ogre who had recently unhanded him. He had not been informed that appearing as a human would raise such an uproar, and he was suddenly grateful he had some elvish traits to back his claim. Had he appeared totally human, the prince would likely have mistaken him for such and purged him then and there. Not moving from beneath his lordships blade he stared up at the man both in admiration and helplessness. He didn't speak unless spoken to in his current situation, so dared not loosen his tongue to speak to the new arrival, though there were many things about her that he was curious about. Perhaps in this state, the cat really did have his tongue.

[NUADA SILVERLANCE]

Looking up from the boy was not necessary, the prince was instantly aware of the numerous eyes scanning his birthright etched across his face. Not bothered by the sudden attention, he paid the feline no heed. The boy was the focus of his attention now, and he held all of it. Nuada, cold as he was, was capable of being an attentive audience. His fathers name, Forendir, had caught his attention. Nuada remembered the man, and knew well that he was an elf. He never would have dreamed that Forendir, of all mythical beings, would chose to affiliate himself with such rubbish. Awaiting the half humans response, the prince did not remove his spear. It would do the filth some good to know his place, the Mythical Realm had fallen to ruin since his exile, that much was clear. Studying his victim, the warrior memorized his every feature. From his pale blue eyes, to his pale blond hair, the elf missed nothing. The man was simply deplorable.

“So be it, for now, Snow Moldovan.” Nuada stated coolly, gripping the boy by the robe over his torso and pulling him to his feet. “Until I know what to do with you, you will not leave my sight. You will always be in my direct line of vision. You will never stray off without permission. You will not challenge my authority. Do I make myself clear?” Nuada demanded. Given the proper opportunity the man now in his custody would not had survived the ordeal. It was out of respect for the establishment owners that the half elf did not die then and there. Nuada had caught Snow's admiration and wondered to which world the boys loyalty lied. Without a word, Nuada gathered up Snow's possessions and led the boy to his table, before pushing him into a chair. He noted the bag was light, maybe a few days change of clothes. It seemed that Snow had indeed planned on returning. He studied the violin case, and traced a finger over the emblem of Bethmoora that was engraved on its shell.

They sat in silence as the prince meditated upon the matter. His conflicted thoughts raced through his head. While it was said he was conceited and selfish, the prince seemed to be in a good mood this night. He would maintain order without bloodshed if it could be avoided... This time... For the sake of Forendir, who had at one point in time served as the princes' advisor. Reflecting on the matter at hand, Nuada had remembered the boy had not denied his intentions, even now Snow seemed to be uncomfortable. Folding his hands on the table, Nuada leaned forward and spoke so quietly that there would be no mistake about who his audience was meant to be. His gold eyes bore into Snows once again as he spoke. “You will accompany me to the human world. I will show you how corrupt the land above is.” It was not a suggestion. When Nuada 'suggested' something, he followed through to see it done.

“But first, we will eat. I will not have your lack of strength keeping us behind schedule.” He snapped his fingers, still ignoring the attention his presence held and pointed at the table. The ogre quickly ran two bowls of stew to the table and bowed before returning to their work. “Why would you wish to leave the Fae Court?” Nuada demanded. No. He did not enjoy the thought of humans mating with his kind, but he could not deny the half breed was his responsibility. He was part elf, and that fell under his dominion. Duty bound, Nuada decided to look after the boy in the meantime, until he had come up with an outcome that would satisfy him.

[SNOW MOLDOVAN]

Snow laid helplessly beneath the enchanted spear, and scanned the mans golden eyes suddenly fearful of what the prince was up to. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in nervousness as the golden eyes surveyed what felt like his every feature. His ears perked when he heard the first non-aggressive words escape the mans lips. Surprised when the spear was moved from his throat, Snow quickly rolled his head to the side and closed his eyes tightly fearing for the worst. Heart pounding in his chest he flinched as Prince Nuada hoisted him to his feet. Among elves, this was almost a sign of equality within the courts, somehow Snow was certain he would never be Nuada's equal. The demands poured fourth from the princes mouth. "You are clear, Sir." Snow agreed quickly, still fearing the man might have a change of mind and destroy him then and there.

What have I gotten myself into? He thought worriedly shaking his head and looking at the floor, eyes not leaving his violin. He couldn't leave it here. As if on the same wavelength, a pale hand extended across the table and gathered his heirloom and his possessions. Obediently, Snow followed Nuada and found himself seated a bit too quickly, perhaps a bit too close to the prince. His light fingers were gliding over the Bethmoora seal that had always been burned into the case.

There was a rather lengthy and uncomfortable silence between himself and the elf prince, and Snow stared at the table, ashamed of being born half human for possibly the first time in his life. "I would gladly accompany you, my lord." Snow agreed with a bow of his head. Speaking very quietly, Snow commented: "I'll have to make it alone." He glanced at the Prince. "That's what my father always told me. That I'd never be accepted as a half elf, that.. I would have to work twice as hard to find any such refuge in this world. I've trained hard, highness. Please let me join your cause. I may not be an elf. Not a full elf, but sir.." His voice trailed off quietly as Nuada had mentioned food, and no later had he spoken the word there was food on the table. "Do we say grace?" The boy asked staring into the golden eyes across from him. He wasn't sure what the prince believed or practiced, but perhaps it was best to extend such an offer.

There were many questions he had for someone as old as Nuada, and he dare not speak out of turn anymore than he all ready had. The battle hardened man had changed through time, according to his father. His father also had a theory that there was no humanity left in Nuada's heart. That the prince had become so focused on fulfilling his promises, that he would pay no heed to those he crossed along the way, and likely would accept no help. Placing a palm over his chest in an elvish salute he bowed again slightly "Your highness. I will serve you should you call upon me." Snow stated quietly, knowing that the man would never accept the aid of a half breed. Though Snow felt it needed to be said.

[NUADA SILVERLANCE]

Nuada eyed the boy wearily. He hadn't asked where the loyalties of the young man lay. Then he offered to say grace. The only prayer that came to the princes mind was the sarcastic remark God, give me strength. Putting his fingertips to his forehead, he leaned over his stew and slowly began to devour it, savoring the taste. His gold eyes followed to Forendir's son as he pledged his loyalty to the prince time and time again. ”I asked you not where your loyalties lie, half breed. I asked you why you desire to o to the land above in the first place. While the sun and the sky and all materialistic dreams come true in that wasteland, we offer more than that. We offer the legend of our people. The truth of the world. Yet, you seek their lies. I am asking why.” Nuada pressed evenly, taking another bite of his meal, stirring the rice in with the rest of the meat.

Nuada could see why the land above would seem thrilling to a mythical being. As it was so delicately phrased: Grass is greener on the other side. In this case: The sky was bluer. The heavens could only guess the reasoning behind the longing to see the world with ones own eyes. The boy wasn't worried about reality, instead he was worried about acceptance. Nuada scoffed. Acceptance. There was a thought. If his people had accepted both himself and his methods in the first place they wouldn't be living in the sorry state they were now.

The boy bowed over his food and Nuada kneed the underside of the table bringing the food closer to the youths face as a reminder to eat. He had no desire to shoot the breeze, however, the youth seemed fascinated. He could tell this would not be a quiet meal just by his companies enthusiasm. Half breeds. What was the world coming to? Forendir of all elves. What on earth had this man been thinking? Scowling Nuada stabbed his stew with his utensils. He started grumbling, the only audible words being “disobedient”... “ignorant”... “now half breeds”.

His eyes rested on Snow after a few moments and he breathed in deeply. “You speak of acceptance. You speak of loyalty. Be loyal only to yourself. The very idea of acceptance is a deception. After all, even the wisest words go unheeded.” Traces of the war of man swept through his mind as he scrunched his eyes in disgust. His father had grown weak, would he be as weak as he remembered? Nuada expected it. His father, the once mighty warrior, King Balor, had lowered his hand to mankind, and now their entire world was crumbling for it. The humans had forgotten the gods. They had forgotten and let fall their promise to keep to the cities, and now there were no forests for his kind to keep to. It was unforgivable.

[SNOW MOLDOVAN]

Snow tensed up expecting a heavy reprimand when the Prince's eyes met his. "I.. I am curious about my mother, Sir." Snow stated not bothering to hide his reasons. If the Prince didn't hear it from his mouth, he would hear it from another, and the result would be just as bad. That is of course, should the elf care to listen. Snow had long accepted that his kind, the impure, the half-breeds, would never amount to anything through the eyes of Prince Nuada, with a wrath that had long been promised. He had spoken of truth and lies. Snow sighed. He wanted to point out that there was deceit on both ends. That not all humans were bad, but he knew he was no match for the warrior opposite him. So instead of fighting his cause, he began to eat from his plate, the strange scented stew that Nuada had ordered for them both.

The elf seemed lost in some form of thought and he looked disgusted. Then he scoffed, and an instant flood of shame overcame Snow. He felt the tears welling up behind his eyes, but forced them to stay back. He didn't even know why he wanted to cry. Fear? Confusion? Empathy? How could the man hate a race so much? His food coated the tip of his nose as Nuada introduced Snow's nose to his bowl of food by lifting the table from its underside. He was scowling, the prince, and a midst of confusion seemed to take over him. Snow only made out the words "Now half breeds." Snow was unable to control himself now. Tears slowly started streaming from his face, though he couldn't explain why, and the very thought of showing weakness in front of his leader appalled him.

He spoke of acceptance, and Snow looked down covering his face. He would not willingly let this weakness shine through. "I get it, highness. I'll never be accepted. It's what I've been told since I was a child." His voice raised uncontrollably as his tears laced the sides of his face. "I WILL HEAR NO MORE OF IT!" He stood up, his anger and hurt flowing over him. "You speak of acceptance as if you're familiar with it, your highness... You.. You're more monster than man. You accept.. You accept NO ONE." He was willing to die by Nuada's hand simply for stating the truth. Someone needed to call it to his attention. "You speak of protecting our kin, but the minute one of us is not pure enough you threaten our lives!" Snow was yelling, and had also attracted the attention of the pub. "How can you justify that?!"

[kahndranegahl]

So the rumors are true. Nuada really does despize anything to do with humanity.

Kahndra herself had heard the rumors surrounding the young looking prince, and despite wanting to see for herself, figured that if those were true, what others were as well. Still, as she sat there, sitting cross legged upon the single chair set for one table, usually reserved for those who were alone or big enough to require a bigger chair than the others.

He attacks a human on sight, despite the human wearing elven style clothing and even smelling of elven cultural markers. Judging from what I'm hearing, this one called 'Snow', just happened to come accross this pub and thinks he looks human enough to go exploring in the outside world. His face certainly looks human enough, but his clothing and behavior makes him look like a tourist. Even when I go out, I take pains to disguise myself as a woman in mourning, but this guy looks like a reject from Lord of the Rings. I like the jerkin, but the cloak has to go if he wants to inject himself among the humans. I can give him a few pointers, but then again I'm too noticable without my disguise.

Just then, her food came and she continued to contemplate the quandry of trying to help the young man in his particular quest.

[NUADA SILVERLANCE]

This Snow was totally unpredictable. Moments after swearing his loyalty he spoke of being interested in the world his mother had been born. Nuada glared. He would wait, the boy was on the verge of an outburst. He'd seen it a thousand times before, usually not directed at him. He was scared, and unable to control his temper. Snow reminded Nuada of a teenage girl at a chick flick where the pretty gentleman had just died, and about to throw a tantrum. Then the outburst came.

Snow dared to raise his voice at the prince, it was no way to treat royalty. Nuada rose when Snow stood and gripped his arm, yanking him back to his seat forcefully. ”Now that you got that load off, would you sit down, eat, and be quiet?” Nuada inquired sternly, his voice hinting at a touch of anger. Most of his people were on the same page he was with the humans, the half-breed was blinded by his own failed education. The tears were flowing from the boys face. ”We will rest, and you will see for yourself in the morning the reasons to all of your now spoken reservations. I accept more than you know, son of Forendir.” He waved his hand to the members who had turned their attention to Snow.

Rising, Nuada walked to the center of the pub. ”Who was it? That condemned our people to this underworld? This world away, buried from our home?” He demanded his people. At first the pub was quiet. Nuada prompted again: ”Who was it, that took our crown piece, and condemned us to life in secrecy?” There was now conflict in the pub. Maybe three quarters on his side, that was good enough, for three quarters of the pub had shouted 'humans' this time. Nuada's cold gaze fell back on the boy seated at his table. ”And who now has the audacity to destroy our world for greed?” There was now a mob shouting in anger. ”You see, son of Forendir, there is much the Fae Court has not enlightened you about. Allow me to educate you.” The prince started walking back to the table, as if in a prelude.

The man put a hand on Snow's shoulder, and leaned to speak quietly into Snows ears. ”You say I accept no one, but I accepted your father. I accepted our people. I have you seated at my table even now, with promises of taking you to the world above. Let us rest, and let me educate you, Snow Moldovan.” The man felt a slight need to protect the boy whom was seated, mostly because he was Forendir's son. ”I know of what I speak. Do not be so quick to doubt.”

[THE STAFF]

Closed due to thread completion.
Closed on: 2011 March 22 by The Staff