Tuesday, 8 May 2012

The Birth of Veril

The landscape looked like something out of a Gerald Coulson painting. The house sat in the middle of the beautiful grass plain. Its thick oaken walls, immaculately sewn roof and the bright lanterns hanging outside the front door seemed to make the house epitomise a warm, inviting home. Surrounded by trees that seemed to carry on into the sky forever. The grass drifted in the wind with such a calming motion that it would make even the most stressed hearts forget their worries. The path up to the house was made of a cold and hard sort of cobblestone, one that was often found only in the richest of Northern cities such as Salvus or Renatus. Its trail lead off far into the depths of the forest, disappearing into the fog.

Inside the house there was a completely different feel. From anywhere inside the screaming of a woman could be heard, her desperate pleas of pain and desperation echoed off the walls of the house. The house was divided into four sections, each with its own set of rooms. The first section was the quietest area in the house. It was one the North Western side and had a bright floor and contained the only kitchen. It lay home to a large basin carved out of smooth stone. It was the only area in the house that was one storey, although it did have a small basement. Upon close inspection a handle could be seen protruding from one of the birch floorboards. The basement was a square room with stonewalls and a stone floor. It was completely empty but wreaked an unbearable stench. The North Eastern and South Eastern sides of the house consisted of more living areas and one the bathrooms. However, the loudest part of the home was in the South West, where a long winding staircase could be seen spiralling into the second story.

The door was wide open, light shining through the passageway. The screaming was at its loudest here and through it the faint squeals of a child could be heard. It is hard to believe that sounds so horrid can be seen as one of the many beauties of nature by so many. After an elven day the sounds stopped and a man walked out of the house, his leather boots clicking with every step as he walked down the path and away from the house. It was a few hours before another man and a woman walked out of the room, cradling a small child between the two of them.

The biggest distinctions of an Elf are their ears and in this case there was certainly no exception. The child’s ears were large and pointed, even as an infant. They were about three times larger than a human’s ears and were pointed sharply at the edge. They are also known for their chiselled, defined facial features. Again, this elf did not disappoint. His face was slender and long. His cheekbones could be vividly seen and sloped downwards towards his mouth. He had blue eyes that veiled nothing and were the defining point of his face.

After countless hours of pain and suffering the two elves, now parents, stood in the lounge room of their secluded home in adoration of what they had just created.
“The perfect elven child...”, The woman whispered to her husband.
“Have you thought of a name?” The man mumbled while he watched in awe as the child began to squeeze his finger.
“I was thinking of…Veril, it means ‘Peace Giver’”.

This was the birth of Veril Bannirae, son of Thadre and Sherah Bannirae. Little did the high elven parents know what they had brought into the world. The mystery of what would become of their child plagued their minds. Would he fall into the cultures and traditions of other high elves they so much despised? Or would he become the peace giver they wanted to become? Only time could tell…

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