This story probably has alot of mistakes but......I just had to post something after going so long without. Sorry, in advance. Its not the best.

Chapter 1

"She can stay for one night, but I don't want my good name associated with an Ardarian cripple!" the old mans harsh voice was emphasized with a shudder as he slammed his pewter mug onto the table where Arielle's fingers rested in fists. A heavy mug, filled to the brim with ale she guessed, a sly smile played on her lips. She went ignored by the fisherman and his wife who argued nearby about her lodging.

His voice was scarred with fear and hatred, contrasting greatly to the kind, soothing voice of his wife. The man's mistrust went far deeper than brown haired-green eyed features of Arielle's appearance. A victim of the raider's pillaging Arielle had guessed, she wondered not for the first time of the history of this small sea hugging village. For even though cripples were mistreated in most villages, the people of this town had been especially cruel.

Arielle blamed it to the hostile tensions that marked the relationship between her people, the Ardarians, and the other tribes that dotted the country. Towns folk pelted strangers with rotten fruit, Arielle herself could still feel the crusted vegetable that refused to be removed from her tunic. Soldiers in these parts went on patrol with the sole purpose of finding and arresting foreigners if a valid reason for visitation wasn't provided.

But hostility or no, a woman had to eat in a world that only supported the wives of working men. The only way a lone woman could support herself, let alone a blind woman was by either selling her body or marketing the few skills she possessed.

"She will pay her keep," the wife argued gently in her warm voice, "By far more than a meager rooming above our stables is worth."

Arielle could hear the scrape of the husband's footsteps atop the leathery wood as he paced.

"You may use her for what you will. But keep her from me!"

A door slammed fiercely against it's frame, leaving the floorboards shaking from the intensity.

Arielle heard the soft, shy footsteps of the man's wife move closer. A chair scraped as it was pulled back.

"You said that you read fortunes....." the woman began hesitantly. Arielle could feel her nervousness, it shook her voice.

"I do minor palm readings" Arielle answered. She held out her palm, feeling the rough grain beneath her skin. "I can not tell you exactly what the fates hold in store, put I can provide a general idea." she smiled encouragingly.

The woman's superstition was nothing unusual. Even in her homeland of Ardara, Arielle had faced prosecution as a witch. This woman's faith was strong. Arielle could feel it in the wary, yet firm way she placed her clammy pale atop of Arielle's. Yet her desire to heard her fortune had to be great, great enough to consult a blind, traveling Ardarian.

"You do not speak like most other beggars," The woman said, her calm voice sensed that she had allowed herself to relax slightly. Arielle turned the work-scarred hand over in her own as

she replied. "I was not always as I am." She allowed none of the bitterness in her heart to leak into her words. Her reply was curt intentionally, no one here needed to hear her tale.

"My name is Yole" The woman spoke only to fill the uncomfortable silence. "Do you see anything?" the question had more meaning in it than it appeared. Arielle could feel Yole's excitement in her trembling palm.

The woman's future was wrought with pain and hardship, usual in this life. She would grow old and worn with little material comfort. Yet, Arielle could still see a glimmer of hope for her near future, a rare smile pulled on the edges of her mouth. "Do you have a named picked out for your son?" she questioned, softly.

Yole's answering gasp of surprise was barely audible above the crackling flame in the hearth. "Thank you" she whispered, her voice quivering with emotion, "You cannot know what this means to me"

Arielle nodded solemnly as she pulled her hand into her lap. Her own life had taught her that any simple joys were gravely appreciated by the people she brought them to. Somehow, it made her feel redemption for the life she had once lived.

"I am sorry, but I tire from traveling......" Arielle, pulled herself up from the chair, bracing her arms against the table for balance.

"Yes of course," The woman gently gripped her arm. "The loft isn't much, but it is warm in the winter and my husband has stocked it with fresh hay." she explained as she led Arielle from the table. Her steps were slow and sure, allowing Arielle to adjust to terrain. "I will send up breakfast for you in the morning, though I suggest you leave before the guards begin their patrols." Yole added kindly.

"I thank you, for I would like to be gone from here long before the patrols arrive." Arielle felt her teeth bare in a feral snarl at the thought of the brutal soldiers before she realized what she was doing. She caught herself, unaware if Yole had noticed her sudden hostility or not. Sighing with exhaustion, she let the woman lead her from the house, as her feet traced the path.

Blood curdling screams pulled Edlan from his fear-riddled dreams. He snapped out of his slumber, leaping from the bed onto the wooden floor of his chamber. The fire had dwindled to smoking ash and the heavy tapestries guarding the windows had been drawn shut against the winter chill leaving the room encased in darkness. Still Edlan found his way to the door: the path memorized surely in his mind. He threw the bolt aside, racing through the door before his mind even had a thought.

A breathless maid seemed to appear before him from thin air, her eyes wide and red from lack of sleep.

"Where is my daughter!" he demanded immediately.

The woman's eyes roamed his comical appearance, the tousled black hair a mess, gray eyes wide with worry. His linen shift was unbuttoned from sleep to expose his muscled chest, yet she remembered herself immediately. "She is worse, than ever my lord, I fear she may have gone mad!" The excitement buzzing through the manor was so thick she nearly forgot to whom she spoke to.

Edlan pushed her from his way, barely noticing her blatant insolence. He raced down the hall, turning corners more quickly than he even thought was possible. Another piercing scream tore through the night as he reached a door thrown open to reveal the chaos residing in the chamber within, his eyes taking in the manic scene before him.

A screeching child flailed within the bed covers, her pumping limbs attacking anyone that ventured near enough. A worried maid cowered in a corner, unsure whether or not to go near. She spotted Edlan, her eyes widening with relief.

"You must calm her my Lord, she resists everything I do!" She raised her voice as the child's screams threatened to drown her words. "I cannot reach her this time."

Edland needed to hear no more, he advanced on the bed slowly. "Orla," he bellowed above the child's howls. The girl ceased her fighting, laying limply beneath the coverlets.

"Orla, la, la," he sang, seating himself gently on the edge of the bed. A tiny hand slid from beneath the linen, groping blindly. Edland placed the small limb gently within his own. "Orla, la, la,"

A tear-streaked face poked out shyly from beneath the coverlets. Gently, he cradled the tiny face within his hands. His daughter gazed through him, unseeing, her milky, blind eyes opened wide.

Edland gazed solemnly at his daughter with a mixture of worry and the fierce love that made his heart ache with the ferocity of it.

He wasn't the weak type to blame the fates for his daughter's condition, he solely blamed himself and only him. He had done and seen horrible things in his life that no normal man ever needed to. His daughter's affliction was only a small token of the punishment he felt he deserved for his crimes. Crimes he had spent the last six years of his life repenting for in hopes of heavenly redemption. Yet his hopes were not high.

Despite, her blindness, Edland loved his daughter like he had never loved anything or anyone in his life. He would gladly die for her, and kill anyone who met her harm with his bare hands. Closing his eyes, he kissed Orla's forehead softly.

"sleep my little one." he murmured gently. He tousled her black curls with his hand and tucked her slender body beneath the coverlets. The maids watched on in awed silence, unnoticed by Edland, who stood quietly as his daughter settled.

A maid rushed quickly to Orla, replacing his careful vigilance. "See that she sleeps soundly, send for me if this happens again." Edland said low enough for the maid to hear. Turning to leave, he paused, "These fits have been occurring more often, I fear that I cannot help her-" he broke off. He gazed hopelessly at his daughter, "She cannot go on living like this....." He turned and left.