Legends of Belariath

Eolande

Three hundred and seventeen. that is Eolande Keitas official age, though if asked she'll say she's not a day over three centuries. a womans perogative. but this isn't the tale of Eolandes ideas or perogatives, its the tale of her life. a long one, by human standards, though in the eyes of the Highborne, she's still a young woman. for the first one hundred and twelve years of her life, she lived with her family in Verdspar, learning as much as she could about the arcane misteries of the world, while at the same time, being trained as a merchant by her father. yes, her father... a hard man, strong willed and highly opinionated. he ruled his company with an iron fist, just like he ruled his home. he was dead set on Eolande taking over the Verdspar branch of his shipping business, but she obviously had other plans for her life.

for twelve years, she argued with her father over the family business, and her complete lack of interest in shipping, telling him that "while your business -is- important to me, Father, I must live my own life, and my life is dedicated to the arcane. I love you, Father... but I will never run your company. not in this city, nor in any other." well, he didn't take too kindly to being refused, something he wasn't used to at all. he had her locked away in his home, even putting bars on her window to keep her from fleeing. not that it was required, her window was seven stories above the ground, far enough to kill her if she'd have fallen in her attempt to escape. which she didn't. No, Eolande stayed locked away for nearly a full year, before her brother made a bold move on his own, the only courageous act he would make in his entire life. he slipped her the key to her door one night, and told her to run... run as fast and as far as she could. "I'll cover for you... I can give you two days to get away from Verdspar... no longer. please, Sister... please dont waste this gift. Go out and learn. Learn as much as you can, become the greatest mage Verdspar has ever known. It's in you.. I can see it, the strength to do this. Mother wanted you to have these." and he had handed her a large, leather bound book, every page empty, and a silver locket on a silver chain. inside was the tiniest hand drawn sketch of her mother she'd ever seen.

she treasured those two items for two centuries. on that night though, on her mothers orders, her brother slipped her out of their home and to the outskirts of Verdspar. there, he gave her a small sack with three days of food in it, and a small coinpurse with fifty mehrials. not alot at all, but she wasn't making a new life, she's running away, in order to find a way to make a new life. It makes little sense to us short-lifers, but for an elf, the journey is often far more important than the end result.

So, her heart heavy, with excitement coursing through her veins, she ran. She ran as though she were being pursued by the moriels that so often caused trouble for the Highborne. she was pursued, for about two weeks, her father sending men far and wide to bring her back, to bring her home. In the end though, he realized just how poor of a father he'd been. her absence led him to the gods, and while he still to this day, mourns the loss of his daughter, he's found a new leash on life, one held with a kind hand, not an iron fist.

For almost two centuries she wandered. small villages, big cities, forts, castles, forests... she's seen them all, lived in any number of them for no longer than a couple of years at the most. But she always kept moving, knowing that in order to fill the book she had been given with the secrets of the arcane, she would have to go dig them out of the world, as though she were truffle hunting. here and there, small bits and snippets of the Magical world were recorded into that tome and before it was lost, there were only seven pages left. two centuries of searching, and recording, learning and practice were in that book, and all the while, the silver pendant was worn with pride around her neck. she never took it off. Such is the skill of the thief that stole it from her.

on a clear summers night, not so very long ago, she had been camping in a swamp just outside of the realm of Nanthalion. she'd just left a small town of vulpines, having learned for years from different villages the peoples language and ways. the town had supplied her with rations for a five day journey, and a generous sum of coin to send her on her way. two days walk away from the town, she made camp, ate her apples and bread, and fell asleep by the fire.

late, late that night, her violet eyes crept open, bleary and unfocused. something.... something had woken her, but what? and there it was again. a single footstep crunching fallen leaves. thats when she noticed. noticed that the book her head had been resting on was replaced with a stone, and the locket that resides around her neck was gone completely. Panic. sheer panic overthrew her senses, and she tore the camp apart looking for that locket, before she flew off the handle. screaming out her rage at the night, she ran pellmell into the woods around her camp, foolishly, but uncaring about the dangers. for hours that night, she searched. only one print was found near her camp that wasn't hers. just one. that one print was enough to fuel her rage for two days, and in her anger, spells flew here and there until she fell exhausted on the almost-dry swamp floor, half a mile from her camp.

For two days, she slept. not really sleeping, but more of a trance elves fall into when exhausted. it replaces sleep perfectly. anyhow, for two days she was there, resting and nursing her pride. how could she tell her mother? tell her that the locket was stolen, and she hadn't even tried to save it? she couldn't. setting her jaw on the third day, she broke camp. not too hard, considering the only things she had were her dagger and the coinpurse. it was safe, buried deep inside her robes when the thief struck. after breaking camp, she started off again, in the direction that single track had led. she had never learned the ways of the wild, nor how to hunt or track, but she figured by the size and shape of the footprint, which was a bare foot, no shoe or boot, that whoever the thief was, it was as far as she could tell, the print of a catman.

So, determined to find her mothers locket, and the book she'd spent two centuries on, she walks at an even pace for days on end, stopping only to drink from rivers and streams, and to rest her body for a few hours at a time before moving on. By the time she found her way to Nanthalion, she'd walked almost completely around the Imperial forest, and then straight through it to the Town. it took her three weeks to make it to the Inn, by which time she was so thin, so emaciated, she was unable to fend off even the weakest opponents. after several weeks of rest, alot of food, and much training, she decided that this being such a popular city, she has a better chance of finding that thief if she sticks around, so, she did. settling down at the Lonely Inn, she has even taken slaves, gotten herself a job, and proposed marriage to the love of her life. but she never stopped looking. not ever.

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