Legends of Belariath

Selenity

The Flock is home as long as you fit into their mold. Slight differrences, slight variations in the mold can be forgiven. But, if you dffer to much, then you must leave if they're nice. Some view certain differences too different to be allowed to exsist. Yes, that means deat and death was suppose to claim me.

I don't know all of the circumstances, and what I do know comes from Father and the rare Swan Maiden we have come across. And what I know is this. The flock that I had been born into was extremely peaceful and accepting of those swan Maidens or their men that had left their flocks into their own. It had never in it's history had a grey swan born to them. Sure they knew that their sister flock of black swans had, had one born to them every 50 years but never did they themselves have a grey swan born into their flock. They kept to the traditons for the most part and took all things in moderation. They weren't as wild as their sister flock in the slightest!

I was the first Grey Swan to be born to the flock. How do I know all this information to be true? Because the Swan we would see rarely, was my Mother. She'd been very yong when she had me and had tried her best to sheild me but I'd been born with a head full of hair and downy grey feathers. It had been known immediately. She says my father loved me to but as a male of the flock he wasn't really allowed to go out much and even he had tried to speak out for me. He said I was innocent if anything the flock was being punished for it's holier than thou attitude. Though it seemed my birth and how it had been handled with my 'death' as everyone had been positive that I'd been eaten by wolves caused the flock to divide and became half of it's numbers. Something I'm sure I'm still credited with today by them and that if I'd never been born it never would have happened.

After a long few years the visits from my Mother stopped. We don't know why and I'm hoping it's because she's settled down somewhere with more children of her own. Still I love my Father and both of his people. He was born of a sylvan elfess and a noble High Elf. His mother had actually been the slave to his father though after his birth his mother was freed and his Father set her up with land. From what I understand his Mother, once he was old enough to care for himself and their home and land, left and returned to kneel at his father's feet. His Father had no use for the bastard son but only with concern to his slave did he stand the thought of a bastard child though he wasn't to claim his name.

It was shortly after this time in his life that my Father had found me abandoned, nude, and crying near the lake on his lands. He says I was a cute little thing and he drove away a leopard with his bows and arrows to keep it away from me til he could get to me. I gave him a reason to live on and to tend to the now empty place. He was a healer, and a rather gifted one at that. I remember the smells of the treatment rooms, each one had a distinct smell to it from the presence of the mixtures used for whatever the room was meant for. It was a blissfully happy time for me. I had been a mischeivious bit of a whild child. Often only wearing a chemise but to my father, even when I was older, I was just a child and nothing was wrong with such scandalous behavior.

This happy time did not last though. Even though my father was kind hearted and treated all, regardless of if they were a halfling, a sylvan elf, or a high elf. The sylvan elves thought he looked more High Elven than one of them. Some grew to resent his inherited wealth. I noticed none of this discourse as they had always been cordial to me though I suspect my Father kept me from much of this. Between him and Nestarion, a High Elven noble that used our place as an escape, they both had kept me rather naive and innocent, seeing me as a child that they cared for. Both men have had a significant impact on my life but that is another tale. There came a night when Nestarion arrived, spoke quickly with my Father, and was back out the door. My Father then took me to the lake, had bade me to hide within the sanctuary of the weeping willow tree, he would return for me. He left and after a time I saw the enraged mob burn my home. I sobbed, silently but I did not move from the safety of the tree and hid within the safety of it's branches. When it looked as if they were coming closer I slipped from my chemise and laid it on the branch before shifting to my swan form and dropping to the ground. Making my way onto the lake, swimming as a bird, they paid me no mind but found my chemise and thought it simply a tactic to have them follow a wrong trail. They took off in another direction while I awaited for my Father or Nestarion. Neither ever came and to this day I mourn the loss of both of these men. My Father and my Protector.

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