Hi there you guys! Did you enjoy Circles of Arven? I hope you do. Now this is a new fic I'm coming up with. It's entitled "The Elven Chronicles" and I hope you all will enjoy reading this as you enjoy reading Circles of Arven. It will be a different take from Circles of Arven in a sense that the creation theory will be totally different and more original I hope. Alright guys. With everything explained, let's get on to the story!
The Elven Chronicles: Prologue Part 1 – The Bard
It was mid summer at a certain village in the kingdom of Britannia. The peasants were working the fields and awaiting late autumn, where they could harvest their crops and having a peaceful winter. Not only that, they would also have to give a certain amount to their lord. They were lucky to be in Britannia, for their king was someone they could count on. King Rendir IX was a young king, for he inherited the throne at the young age of twenty after his father, King Franzier IV, passed away at the age of fifty three, no thanks to an acute bout of pneumonia.
Everybody mourned for King Franzier, for he was a wise ruler, always looking out for the interest of his people, inducing a new system of offering the land's produce to their lords, much to the initial chagrin of the nobles, and strengthening his armies where they would be placed along the country's frontiers to fend off any threats coming through especially the orcs from the mountains of Garush's Spine, which was named after the orcs' fell god, for this was the main habitat of the green skinned creatures although there were numerous tribes beyond it.
That was only a part of the problem, for there were also some skirmishes with the slaver bands of the kingdom of Gibalia to the east. Obviously, diplomatic relationships were rather tense between the two kingdoms, for the knights of Britannia are bound by honor to protect their serfs and the slavers of Gibalia would settle nothing less than a successful raid.
When Rendir assumed the throne, many perceived him to be easily swayed due to his age. However, he proved to be a good and strong willed ruler, refusing to bow to any pressure if it meant compromising with his conscience as the king. The nobles gave their heartfelt support to him, as they were convinced of Rendir's ability as their monarch, just like his late father, and they even accepted the fact that the newly induced law on giving the amount of produce was to make a better life for the entire Britannian population including them. At least the occasional revolts by oppressed serfs in the past were already history. Gibalia wasn't too pleased with what it was facing though since Rendir absolutely despised the idea of having slaves, which was the foundation of Gibalia's economy. In fact, more often than not, rumors were rife that a war between these two countries may be at hand.
The militia guards of that particular village, which were dressed in a simple garb of leather tunic and matching breeches with boots, were always alert, looking out for any hostile intruders. Then one of them spotted a lone figure coming towards them. The person was wearing a brown cloak. Beneath it was a simple linen shirt complete with breeches and boots. The guard notified his companions and they gripped their spears as they studied the stranger.
"Halt! What is ye intention comin' to the village of Zawen?" shouted one of the guards.
"I'm disappointed that you all don't recognize me. To think that I've brought good wine from the city of Gravis…"
"Gravis, the city which produces the best wine in Fareth? Dat's pretty far off if ye askin' me, but ye still didn't answer my question."
The stranger said nothing as he pulled down the cowl of his hood, revealing a young man around the age of twenty five winters, his short blonde hair slightly parted near the centre. The guards were surprised and pleased by what they saw as they moved towards the stranger.
"Laryx! It's been a long time since ye last visited us!" exclaimed one of the guards in joy.
"How's ya travel goin'?" asked another.
"Pretty much the same I guess, Zolt" grinned Laryx.
"The folks will be mightily pleased. They're fer wantin' ya stories, ya know…" said the guard named Zolt.
"That's what I come here for."
"Then maybe ye can settle yerself in de tavern and waitin' for the folks to finish their job. It'll pretty damn soon that they will knock off. Do not doubt that they're fer wantin' more quality tales from ya especially when ye've been out o' here for a year."
"Fareth is a big world, you know. It's a no-wonder that I've been out for a year."
"Then what about the wine you got from Gravis? You're giving that to us?" asked another one in an accent different from his fellow guards.
"Sure. That's a form of reward for your efforts in protecting this village. But I guess you can only have it after your duty. Old man Billings will have your butts for breakfast if he found you all dead drunk in the act of duty."
"Yeah I guess so. Old Billings is a tough one to crack, but he's a good soldier and leader. I hate to see him leave, but that's exactly the case. He's starting to have rheumatism and the upper boss doesn't want to pile any more pressure on him. That's why he's gonna leave by the end of autumn. To retire like a true soldier and enjoying his life with his family."
"So when's the new head coming?"
"End of summer where old Billings will guide him. Mark my words that he's been kicking up a ruckus and keep on bitching that he's still got a couple of good years in him."
"I hate to say that, but he's really long due for a good retirement. A soldier can't do anything much when he's nearing his sixties."
"Try saying that to him. He'll give you a ruffian's salute right in your face." laughed the guard.
"Well, enough about Billings. How about you, Syte? How's your teaching career here?" Laryx asked the same guard.
"Pretty much same. The kids are rather enthusiastic about the whole education thing and the parents don't really mind that either. It's a pity that I'm the only so-called 'educated guy' here."
"You have your parents to thank then, for having the foresight of raising money for your studies at the nearest school and I don't think it's near to say the least…"
"Alright, Laryx, I'm fer guessin' dat it's goin' to be soon when the folks knock off. Just go in, say yer howdies and tell 'em your stories." rang out a loud voice. The guards and Laryx turned around and saw an elderly, but robust man dressed in the same fashion as the guards with a badge on his left chest.
"Billings old friend. Happy retirement to you!" said Laryx.
"I'm not yet retired, mind ye. If ye ain't me friend, I'd have strangled ye." said Billings sourly.
"How about the gift I'm going to give you all. Fine wine from Gravis mind you."
"Wine from Gravis? Now dat's a treat I'll say and don't ye doubt I'm goin to have a glass or two. But not now. The wine can wait till we knock off from duty."
"So I'll leave everything to you guys then." smiled Laryx as he placed the sack filled with bottles of fine wine in front of them and left towards the sole tavern in Zawen.
Laryx's entrance was warmly greeted by the locals. It had been three years since he came to the village. No one knew where he came from and neither did he make it known. But his tales always captivated his listeners and they never grew tired of listening. At first, the people regard him with suspicion, thinking he might be a spy from Gibalia. However, his friendly nature soon destroyed that thought as he gradually became a celebrity of sorts amongst the people, even the militiamen included.
Laryx was soon ushered to the tavern, where the serfs were anticipating the tales he would bring. Upon the table where he sat, warm food and foaming ale awaited. There he began to sing out the tales of old and all that had happened during his journey. Everyone were captivated by his voice and not one of them failed to listen to his tales, for he wore a magical amulet which could made his voice known to others beyond hearing range. For hours, his tales rang throughout the village and all were moved by his songs. Then as he reached the end of his performance, he gave a fluid bow which was greeted by applause.
Then one of the children shouted out, "One more tale please!"
"What do you want me to sing then? What I have known, I have sung."
"Sing to us again! About the legend of the Elves! You haven't sung that yet and we all know that you knew about it!"
Laryx gave a smile as he sat down again. True, he did know about the mystical Elven race, and it was even truer that he had never sung it to them. To the general populace in Fareth, the Elves were an enigma, only to make their presence known during the Great War, where they finally turned the tide and saved Fareth from the dreaded Witch King's armies a thousand years ago. What happened after that was something left to imagination. Some said they have left for some unknown land. Others said that they were carried up to the heavens.
But now, Laryx would reveal all. Of what the elves truly faced even before the Great War...
Alright, guys, here it is, the first prologue of the story. Saying frankly, I haven't thought this story out yet since much of my brain cells were dead due to planning for Circles of Arven, so don't expect me to update it like Circles of Arven. COA is still my top priority right now. On a side note, the ruffian's salute is Fareth's equivalent of showing the middle finger.