Legends of Belariath

Nuala De Danaan

The pixie had gone off in a huff the night before, mad at her little nixiepixie friends over some slight that wasn’t worth remembering. Instead of sleeping in the communal pile of small, warm bodies as she usually did, she had curled up in the hollow of a tree to sulk where she knew she’d not be bothered. Of course, she awoke the next morning in her usual bright spirits, her grudge forgotten with the cheerful warmth of the rising sun. She had flown back to play with her friends, ready for things to return to normal. Only things would never be normal again.

They were gone.

Maybe she missed them, or maybe she didn’t want to see the potential signs of a struggle. She couldn’t find her friends anywhere. Not a single one! Well, they were probably just still out of sorts. She’d decided. They must still be mad at her, and so they were just trying to pull some mischief. They were all nixiepixies after all. So, that would hardly be out of character. And so it was in search of these friends that she wandered, for the first time, out of the deepest wilds of Belariath’s forests.

It was quite the culture shock to find herself in the town… most notably the infamous Lonely Inn, where she received quite the education. She met some nixies, but they were not from her old merry lil’ band of nixiepixies. She has met slaves and the owners of slaves. She has discovered pleasure. She’s discovered pain. She has even been on both sides of unrequited love.

Simply put, Little Nuala has grown up a lot—in her pixie way—since arriving to Nanthalion-town. She bears inked mithril marks and scars that she never would have figured herself sporting. What’s more is that she bears them with a certain amount of pride. She has a job, and she has actual goals that she is working toward. So, she is not quite the carefree pixie of months ago, even if very few know her well enough to realize this.

She remains optimistic of finding her nixiepixie family. It is, perhaps, one of the main things that has kept her from being too completely jaded by the rather intriguing, though not-exactly-good influences of certain folks she’s met (namely the rather affectionately dubbed “Mean Kitty”).

Where many would give up, Nuala always maintains at least a glimmer of hope.

BACK