Prodigal Son (Serataom//Will)

The half-breed has returned home at last and will soon learn his fate. The stranger has sailed to a new land where she will face her past once and for all. One day the two shall cross paths again and their child shall be the one from the legends who will bring balance to the land

The one-eyed looks but is unable to see the answer that lies below the sea. The marked one is just discovering his power and soon will rise to the challenge at hand. The path finder is about to discover a new trail that will lead to great upheaval for those involved.

The warrior has challenged himself and has walked away the victor of that battle. However, the dog and cat still fight. Who shall win is shrouded in fog.

The angels walk on the earth looking for comfort and understanding. Free-will is sometimes an awful burden to bear.

“You speak nonsense, Serataom.” Salmurk paced back in forth wearing a path in the wild grass outside the village.

“It is all there in the stars, one need only to look” The wise horse-woman looked at her mate with pity. “Why do you dislike the sight so?”

“Too many people believe it and therefore make decisions based upon superstitions. The stars cannot save us from war and death. They cannot bring back the dead. You put too much stock into what they say and not enough in those who are here with you.” The large centaur pawed at the earth aggravated at having to explain his feelings.

The graying mare stepped lightly to her mate’s side and rested a weathered hand upon his muscular back. “No, the stars cannot bring back your son, or anybody else for that fact, but they can give us hope.” Brushing away a tear that threatened to spill over her lashes she left for the house leaving the stubborn mule with his thoughts.

Glottack met her as she approached her stoop, “Did you see it?”

“Yes, it was just as you said; she is the one.” Looking warily past the young stallions face she saw the shadow of death at her door. “You did right to aid her in her escape. The elves are also aware of who she is for they too have kept a vigilant. It will soon be your day to advise Tavalox for my time is running out. Maybe the Council will listen to you better than I. I have never had much power over them; Salmurk is partly to blame for that.” Seeing the concerned look on his strong angular face, Serataom smiled and patted the centaur’s cheek, “Do not fret so, I have lived a very long life. I have nothing more to offer this world. I welcome the chance to hold fellowship with those long passed.”

Serataom disappeared into the sanctuary of her hut. Respecting her privacy, Glottack sought refuge in the forest that he loved so much. He had been following some humans who had crossed into the forbidden trees. For reasons unknown to him, he did not alert Tavalox. Something about these men told him that they were best left alone to find their answers.


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Will sat at the high table during the celebration of his return. He felt as though he were the fabled prodigal son whom he had learned about in his mother’s church. He observed with great interest the casual way of these ethereal people. The younger elves were joined in a circular dance in the middle of the table settings while the older generation clapped in time to the whimsical music, all the while exchanging gossip of this young one or that. In the midst of all of this joy, he felt as though he were only half a person; the ever persistent ache in his heart told him that he would not be staying long in Nordel.

“Good tidings, Brother,” Emarl had slipped into a recently vacant spot on the bench next to him. The former occupant, one of his many cousins, had relinquished his seat so that he might partake in the merriment of a dance.

Will smiled shyly at the beautiful elven maiden. Her hair was the same color as his but that was as far as the similarities went. She had honey colored skin, green almond shaped eyes, small delicate features and slightly pointed ears.

“Do you wish to join in the dance?” she gave him a warm smile that showed off her high cheek bones.

“I don’t think I know the steps. Besides, I much rather watch for right now. It’s all so new to me still.”

The girl nodded in understanding. Picking at some grapes that were laying on the table she suddenly began to tell Will the story of her mother and his father.

“We elves do not marry as the humans do. The relationship between a male and a female is one of respect and necessity. Sometimes a couple may live together for a while, other times they go their separate ways after sharing an intimate bond; no thought is given to either, it is simply the way it is. During the Beltane fires Lutrol sought out my mother, Amarly, and I was the result of their union; it was the only time they ever shared such a bond. Unfortunately, she died during child birth and my aunt raised me as her own, a twin to her son. When I was old enough I left her house and came to live with Lutrol where he has treated me as kindly as any father.”

Taking up a goblet she sipped some wine and watched a game of hoop hopping being played by the younglings. After a moments reflection she added something that stirred Will’s soul, “Lutrol loved your mother, he still does, and he loves you. Do not think ill of him for the decisions that he has made for he had to leave. I do not know if you are aware that your father is the King of Ossiriand whose ancestry goes back to the First Age. If he had chosen not to come to Nordel our people would have scattered like leaves in the wind, eventually vanishing for all time.”

Will stared intently at the girl hoping that if he looked hard enough that something she was saying might sink into his befuddled brain. “Are you saying that you’re a princess?” He knew the question was stupid but her answer was necessary in order for him to comprehend the situation.

Suppressing a giggle, Emarl smiled and spoke to the young man as if speaking to a little child, “Yes, I am a princess and you, dear brother, are the prince of Ossiriand. This will all be yours one day if you so choose.”

His mouth suddenly felt very dry as if he had eaten dirt and the forest around him seemed to be spinning. The sounds of laughter and talking that had once been so pleasant now melded together to become nothing more than exaggerated noise. Rising clumsily out of his seat he stumbled from the table as if he were a drunk, muttering something about too much to think about. Emarl stood to go with him but Lutrol motioned for her to be seated. She couldn’t help but wonder if telling him the truth was such a good idea but Lutrol had asked her to do so. Her heart went out to the poor boy that was so lost to himself.