Prologue: The Elf That is Not

Thick fog blanketed the ground, the moon casting a somewhat bluish tint to it. Trees clustered together as if gathering warmth from one another. Blackness wove around the large trunks, casting its deadly coldness wherever it went. Nothing moved in the hazy coldness, not even the wing of a bird.

A sudden gray tinge filled the sky, casting streaks of pink. The sun started to crawl her way up the distant mountains, the fog thinning now. It was at this time that it dropped out of a tree.

It was actually an elf, tall and garbed in a long travel worn cloak of a morning gray. When I say was an elf, I mean to say that this elf did not consider himself an elf any longer.

This elf was like most any other elf, yet unlike most elves, as you will learn later on in this story. He had the usual height, and the long blonde hair typical of an elf, yet maybe a tint lighter, as if bleached by the sun when outside for many a day. Blue eyes stared out across the line of trees, the shade as blue as the sky. He wore a gray tunic and gray leggings, both stained and looked to have been worn for a long period of time.

A bow arched from his back, showing off its smooth oak surface that was actual home to many dings and kinks. It was a fine tool none the less, and had served its master faithfully, and would continue doing so for many a year. The quiver that accompanied the bow was also worn, like all of what this elf possessed. Arrows packed in a group waited to fly. One long, double sided dagger was secured behind the quiver, the hilt tarnished yet still keeping its original silver glow. This elf's name was Siendar.

Siendar looked towards the east, watching the sun trail up the sky. He shook his ragged hair before continuing up a path that he made all himself. His pack, quite empty, clung to his round shoulders. He took in the sense of direction he was going in with a nod of his graceful long face before continuing.

As he walked among the trees, he started to sing a traveling song in elvish that he had sung many times before. Roughly translated, the song sounded like this.

Far I travel, far from home

No place set within my sight

The road is long and lonely

Yet the sun will guide me

Far I travel over plains

Through woods and forests green

Over mountains tall and proud

None of these will stop me

It was a favorite song of his, and he kept singing it for many minutes when he came upon a clear, still stream. Shaking his water skin, he decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to refill while the change lingered.

The water was clear and chilly, waiting for the sun to fully rise before the chill would leave. Siendar kneeled by the stream when his reflection caught his eye.

"Hey, I know you," Siendar smiled, looking at the shaky reflection of himself, "You're a mess." It was true. His fingers were covered in a layer of soil and felt cold and stiff. "It cannot be helped though. Neither can the lack of provisions or the hole in your soul. That can be partially blamed on your, people."

His smile turned to a frown at the mention of his people, meaning the village he was born and raised in. He shook his frown off as he finished refilling his water skin. Taking a sip from the stream, Siendar was soon on his way through the trees, which gradually thinned to one or two, to no forest at all.

A plain of yellow grass waved before the elf, the yellow reminding him of autumn, upcoming in a few weeks.

"What are you going to do Siendar," Siendar said, a hint of exhaustion in his voice, "Autumn will show its face soon, and the winds of winter will not be far behind it. They won't let you back, and you don't trust the others. You are an elf, yet not one at the same time."

The slight breeze flipped back his storm gray hood as he looked to the sky, where gray clouds came to block the new sun. It would storm, and Siendar knew it as well as any elf. The look on his face gave no hint to what he was thinking, but his eyes gave a glimmer of what his soul said. He was thinking, pondering, about them. The elves he grew up with; the elves that he learned from; his chief and father. Yet most importantly, the elves that exiled him.