Eternal Cold

Author’s Note: This is my second attempt at writing…this took me a while to get organized and stuff, so I hope you like it! Its another background story on my Dragon Raider character Calypso, the first one was about Raven. I have yet to post Dragon Raiders on here, which could take a while. The footnotes are there for your convenience.

Please tell me what you think of this!

“Ha! You ride like a human, Calohir!” jeered the ash- blonde Elf as she urged her horse Antralië1 faster down the snow-covered hillside of Mount Astraëa. As Calypso, for that was her name, rushed past the frost covered glistening trees and the small snowy thatched huts, she couldn’t help thinking how glad she was to be living in Balifrost, the Land of Eternal Winter and the Land of the Ice- Dwellers. She didn’t mind the cold; in fact she rather liked it. Winter made the trees sparkle and the sun brighter and gave everything around you and ethereal white glow.

Concentrating on the race, she turned around on her horse and laughed as she saw her friend Calohir riding his horse, but ‘riding’ was not the proper term for it. ‘Dragging’ was more like it. Calohir’s sorrel horse stubbornly would only go at two speeds: slow and super fast. Unfortunately he couldn’t get the horse to go fast, so he was slapping the horse’s rump and yelling at it while it only ambled along at a slow trot. Calypso could see Calohir muttering Elvish curses at the sorrel, which playfully shot forward like a dart. They gained on Calypso, with a small cloud of snow at the horse’s hooves as he went faster. Luceinarlo2was a fitting name for that horse, thought Calypso. Then she glimpsed her other friend Rowan on his pony Mariya3. He was anxiously trying to spur Mariya on faster in hopes of catching up to them; unfortunately the two elves were already far ahead. Calypso urged Antralië on faster, murmuring in Elvish to the horse. They soon reached the bottom of the hillside, where Calypso stayed mounted and gazed up the mountain. Mount Astraëa was the largest mountain in all of Angkora, as far as Calypso knew, for she’d never been outside the safe haven of her icy home.

There were a few shouts and more Elvish curses from the side, and Calypso saw that Calohir had finally managed to sit safely back in the saddle. As the Elf boy and Luceinarlo reached the bottom of the mount, Calypso stayed mounted and stood waiting for Calohir to admit that she’d won the race.

He rode over to her, defeat and anguish showing on his face. There was snow all over his loose gray pants. Calypso looked over at him and stared him down. Finally, Calohir dismounted sighed deeply. “Ah, fine. You have won this round, Calypso Silverhawk. I admit my defeat,” he recited as grandly as possible. Calypso smiled. “And I accept your defeat, Calohir Blackfox,” she answered, both of them using their nicknames for each other. Silverhawk was a noble name meaning strategic, and Blackfox meant cunning.

Then Rowan finally reached the bottom of the hill. He was wearing a cerulean tunic and the traditional baggy pants and sleeves of Balifrosters. He had a sad look on his face; Calypso knew he was jealous of them being Elves and better at riding then him. He rode over to them, smiling slightly, but that was all. She felt sorry for him. Since he was not Elven, he usually lost the physical duels with Calypso and Calohir. But he was an experienced rider, so those he had fun participating in.

Calypso didn’t consider herself a lady, to the dismay of her mother. She didn’t think she was that pretty or gifted with a lovely voice like her sister. Her father Forfiryth, however, showered all his affection on her, because she was the youngest in her family. Her sister Callista was her mother’s pride, and her older brother Alfirin was caught in the middle. She had grown up with boys, was trained in the arts of the sword and bow, and studied all languages and warfare, as well as the more ladylike things such as clothing, horseback riding and beauty. Today she wore her usual pale blue tunic and vest with long white sleeves and loose light gray pants. She was only 13.4 Almost all of her companions were naturally male.

Calohir had been her friend for many years. He was a haughty, daring and sometimes foolish Elfling, always bragging about something. He was tall and slender, with long, straight, dark brown hair and mischievous navy blue eyes, and wearing a long navy blue tunic and gray baggy pants. He sort of looked like a younger version of Calypso’s father; they looked very much alike. Against Calypso’s will Calohir considered himself to be her protector, always looking after her when unnecessary and going easy on her when they sparred against each other, though she beat him anyway. She held herself high with pride as most Elves do, looking out for herself and the less fortunate only.

In the same way Calypso was always looking after Rowan. He was a human, quieter and more serious than she and Calohir. Rowan had large honey-colored eyes and shoulder length brown hair. He was tall and fit, but he walked with downcast eyes, as if always fearing something. He didn’t of course, being non- Elvish, possess as much physical prowess as they did, so in their races and duels he usually lost or tied, but he was getting better. Calypso thought he was pretty talented with the sword, for a human. But, Rowan, being the trustworthy person everyone took him for, could create very believable lies that often helped Calohir get out of trouble. So they remained friends for that and because Rowan shared their love of horses and nature.

But Calypso often found herself dreaming about Rowan. His soft eyes, his light brown hair, his kind nature. Calypso, being the shy, sensitive person that she was, was somewhat attracted to that sort of person. But she knew full well that Elves usually didn’t go off with mortals; it just wasn’t done. Her parents especially would disapprove. So she ignored her feelings for Rowan and the way he looked at her sometimes and instead pretended to like Calohir. Or she ignored them both, which was often the case. She preferred not to think of boys for many years yet to come.

“Hey, Calypso! What are you dreaming about now? My handsome face?” It was Calohir.

Snapping back to the present, she scowled at him. “Why would I be doing such a horrible thing! Your handsome face, my foot.” She declared sarcastically, joking.

He got the point. “Fine, fine. Deny your feelings for me. Well, I think your father wants you. I thought that I could see him coming down the path near here. We should go meet him.”

Calypso and Rowan agreed, and with Calypso leading, they rode to the edge of the sprawling village of Wintercrest and discussed what they’d like to do when they got older.

“I would like to learn all the languages and travel to every single place in Angkora,” said Calypso wistfully.

“Well, you’ve already learned half of the languages,” Calohir grumbled.

Calohir said he would like to become a soldier for the Alliance, and Rowan said he thought it would be fun to become a silversmith.

They could see Calypso’s father, Forfiryth, standing of to the side, talking with Calypso’s brother Alfirin and a few other Elves and Men. Forfiryth was tall and foreboding, with piercing navy blue eyes and a stern but kind disposition; he was dressed in a long, flowy overcoat and dark blue leather tunic and pants. Alfirin was a fierce fighter, brave but arrogant. He was almost as tall as Forfiryth, and had light blue eyes and tawny hair. His gloved fists were clenched. “I wonder what they’re discussing,” mused Calypso. Her father’s usually calm and placid young face was screwed up in frustration. Alfirin seemed angry; he kept glaring at Forfiryth and muttering under his breath. The three finally approached the gates to Wintercrest, though they didn’t go inside, yet. The gates were tall, with a graceful arch in the middle. The whole thing was constructed of silver birch, rowan, sterling silver and diamond. The sun was hitting the diamond facades just right so the gates looked like they were made of glass, or light. Many spirals and strange runes were carved in the wood and metal, presumably from some ancient Elvish language.

Taking a detour after admiring the gates, the friends went over to a picket and dismounted their horses, leaving them to graze in the dark, thick grass hidden beneath the snow. Calypso’s father noticed them coming towards him and smiled grimly, but then went back to talking to Alfirin and the others. With a few parting words the other Elves and Men left inside the village without a word of greeting to the young ones. Forfiryth turned towards them and spoke. “Greetings, daughter, friends. Right now is not the right time, I’m afraid, for me to speak with you. If you will hold on a little while..” he turned back to Alfirin, who was still angry- looking. “Son, you cannot risk open war based on petty suspicions! It is not probable that our village, so high up in the mountains, could be attacked. I will not lead the people of this village to panic and mayhem only to find that no Draconians have attacked us!”

Alfirin cut in furiously. “I am simply telling you what we saw on our hunt! Draconians are headed toward Wintercrest, and they will be here in less than a day’s march! We must warn the village!”

“I cannot, as I told you before, go by one man’s eyes alone to prepare our defenses, probably for nothing!”

“But you aren’t going by just my eyes! The whole hunting party could either see them or smell them! They were at our sister village Skylark! Why won’t you listen?” Alfirin pleaded.

Forfiryth looked as unmoving as before. “Because there is no reason to listen to the ranting of an Elven youth, especially one who doesn’t respect his elders!”

Alfirin looked very angry over this. “Those who believe that they are invincible are the truly weak people, and you are one of them! I am not. The weak will never last long, not in this world! I hope you change your mind and consider the matter.” He left them with a slight scowl on his face and disappeared after the rest of the hunting party inside the village gates.

1 Antralië- Cloudmane

2 Luceinarlo- ‘with great pride’

3 Mariya- dark beauty

4 Elves as you know are immortal. Adulthood begins at age 1500 and they usually live to be about 5000. 13 years old would (roughly) be about 800 years old to a human.

A/N: Now, the time frames for how old Calypso should be were a little tough. Some of you might have done it so that Elves grow to a certain age (say, 25) and they keep getting older, but they still only look about 25. I did it differently, so don't get confused.