Rhylie’s Chronicle

                                                               Fore-Words

The tale you will find between the covers of this journal is as factual and truthful as I can possibly make it. I have done the research. Oh yes, I have interviewed eyewitnesses over all the planet of Gielinor. I came to know all the people involved. I have searched manuscripts new, ancient, and every age between. I have looked into every corner and upon every shelf of all the libraries and museums of this world; gone into the myriad caves, labyrinths, and dungeons. I have heard prophesies. I have had far too much curiosity. I have adventured and explored; have played the traveler and seeker. I have spied in places I never should have been, yet survived. I have also been places of which I was unworthy and could never have dreamed of seeing firsthand, but for grace. Ye Gods, I have seen things; things not only natural but supernatural. This account, however, even though I dub it a chronicle, is not necessarily chronological. Some might call it sketchy, and they would have a point, for many details were elusive or hidden completely.

I do not deem myself more than an average writer but only one who writes out of love – for the love of writing itself, the love of some of those of whom I write, the love of those for whom I write, and, foremost, out of the love of the one who so kindly conscripted me into this service, who kept me safe and urged me forward all these years.

I have simplified. Some might say ‘oversimplified’. That is only to present you with truth that I came by through the deep emotional stress of countless trial, without you, yourself, partaking in trial as much as I have.

This chronicle may never see the light of day. It might die with me and be buried, or its ashes scattered to the four winds. My enemies are its enemies. They are evil and wish only evil upon me. If you are reading this, it has obviously, miraculously, survived. I must have hid it just in time, and hid it well. You, friend, who are about to read, may be in great danger just possessing the thing. Having read it may result in your receiving either the laurels of a hero, or the condemnation of a heretic. Much of that outcome has to do with who you become by choice. Use it well. Be of great courage and take heart, for you will be the new bearer of the real truth. Heed the Law of Threes. Seek illumination in the Light. Beware the encroaching darkness which bodes evil. There is more to know under the Gielinorian sky and throughout this galactic dimension called RuneScape than meets the eye. If you are forced to reveal by whose hand this collection was born, you had best whisper my moniker. I am reluctant to reveal myself yet I need to provide you with authenticity, therefore, I sign and swear, thus:

I am merely,



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The First Part

Meeting

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By Gielinor! That fore-words was longer than this entire first part! I must invoke the Knife of Editing if we are ever to come to the core of this apple . . .

It was a simple beginning and, like I said, I will make it even simpler by stating thus:
The Elder Gods created two innocent souls and they put them into the bodies of two beautiful unborn babies. At least, that’s the way I saw it at the time. One of those children, a human girl, was to become Addy of Kandarin. The other, an elven boy, would become Elflen of Elvenrealms. “Who were their parents”, you might ask. That information is of no value to you at this point because this is not a biography . . . Apologies, I am at odds with myself over this beginning because I know the ending. We don’t want to complicate things. Please forgive.
Now where was I?
The two were born healthy and they grew quickly. As they grew, they both enjoyed romping and playing in the forests and meadows of their respective homelands. Discovering the large varieties of trees, flowers, animals, and even bugs fascinated them both. Curiosity propelled them through their childhoods. They learned swiftness and agility; Addy by chasing the unpredictable Kandarinian butterflies and Elflen by racing the quick Isafdarian rabbits. They became strong and farsighted under the care of their separate families, yet all was not well, even in the elven family, we are sorry to report. There was discord, for the world had somehow become “broken” – even more so than it had ever been. Dark forces were at work in all the land, and the children, in order to avoid the discord in their homes, began to wander farther and farther from them. Neither of them went unnoticed.
When their ages were in the double numbers, about thirteen I would say, and they had become quite independent and rebellious, the young elf, during his explorations, discovered what turned out to be a teleportal in a clearing deep in the elvish woods of Isafdar. Fearless and curious, he stepped into the purple air inside the metallic ring and immediately heard and felt dizzying, pulsating sounds and vibrations. When it pushed him out into a meadow in a different land he was quite disoriented. He had been told stories of portals and of far-away lands, but this was far different than he had imagined. “Welcome To Kandarin”, a sign said. He knew that Kandarin was the kingdom due east of Elvenrealms. Elflen also knew that elves normally keep to themselves and avoid travel into foreign lands, for they are not well received there, and they are most comfortable in their own homeland, so he stayed hidden (elves are skillful at blending into their surroundings) and he watched the strange looking people as they went about their businesses. He saw gnomes, wizards, seers, and sorcerers that he had previously only seen in collections of drawings. He kept his budding elven magic silent as he had been taught by Eluned and Arianwyn, and soon returned to his country using the Kandarin side of the portal.
On his third exploration of “his discovered land”, as he marveled at the variety of the strange flora and fauna and the beauty of a patch of flowers under a Kandarin rainbow, he heard someone singing one of the most compelling melodies he had ever heard. It rivaled Miss Eluned’s “Song of the Stars Surrounding the Autumn Moon”. The music came from the direction of a small open space. So compelling was the song and the voice which gave it life, that he abandoned all caution and ran headlong into the meadow-clearing in the center of which was a large, flat rock. Sitting cross-legged atop the rock was a young girl with large brown eyes, and in them, flecks of green. Those eyes were wide open with alarm and full of fire. She had stopped singing as he skidded to a stop in the grass. Immediately she jumped to her feet after firmly grasping an oaken walking staff which she wielded in an impressive defensive position.
“Ward yourself, stranger! “, she shouted bravely although he could see her knees shaking. 
“Who are you? ” He said with surprise in his voice.
“It is your name and presence here that demands explanation,” she said firmly, raising her staff and steadying her knees.
” My name is Elflen,” he said, seeing that he was in little real danger, for he could outrun her if he had to, or possibly overpower her and take away her stick if it came to that. He gulped with that thought, nevertheless.
“I’m an explorer,” he said with bravado. Maybe making peace was best here.
Her eyes squinted as she looked him over. “I can dent that blond head of his if he comes any closer,” she thought, “Or is it green?”  Was his long hair changing? He seemed to be blending into his surroundings.
Suddenly he seemed no threat at all and she became curious.
“My name is Addy, if it’s any business of yours,” she ventured.
Elflen then simply sat at the base of the rock and looked up at her, noticing that she had the prettiest dark-brown hair with highlights of fire-red running through it.
“I’m sorry I startled you. That was a mistake for several reasons. I simply forgot myself.” He stood and bowed. “Forgive me, Milady.”
“You surely did”, she softened. “Forgiven, kind Sir.”
He noticed a slight, quick curtsy.
“What were you singing? That song, and your voice, well, they captivated me. Who made that song?”
“I found the music within myself. I may sing it again, after you explain yourself.” she said, laying her staff down and sitting on the edge of the rock with her legs hanging over.
And explain he did, hiding nothing. And talk they did, finding many things in common after they had moved to a patch of moss under a large yew tree. He was the first elf she had ever seen and she his first up-close human. (I say human only to show a difference, which is slight – mainly around the ears and, of course, lore-wise)
As the sun rolled lower in the sky, young Addy did sing her whole song to young Elflen. He was enthralled because it was like listening to her heart singing. He knew then that he would never forget that melody.

After promising to return to that very spot tomorrow, he ran out of their clearing, heading for the portal in the dusk as she waved after him.

                                     To be continued in Rhylie’s Chronicle Part Two! 
                                                                     Regards,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Two

                       Breakaway
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The next day Addy waited and waited, all the while entertaining herself by finding new music within herself and by inventing new defensive and offensive movements and tactics with her walking staff which she also fancied a fighting staff. Her mentor, the Wise Old Man of Draynor saw her potential as a warrior and continually encouraged her improvisation. 
Elf was frustrated. His attempts to “jump” to Addy just would not work, for there was a disturbance in the magical force which controlled the portal and he kept getting stuck in an underground room with four levers and spat back out exactly where he began. It was as though someone was actively working to prevent his use of the portal.  
     “Nahhh,”  he thought. “I’m only being silly. I’ll sneak back tomorrow and fool that darned portal.”  
      The next day, as dawn broke, he stood before the portal after using his best blending-in techniques to make his way through the forest. He was barely visible as he studied the portal from a short distance away. Suddenly he bolted forward and dove through the purple air, tucking and rolling and jumping to his feet in one smooth motion as his Fighting Arts teacher had taught him.  
     “That does come in handy,” he thought as he felt annoyed at himself for openly calling that accomplished elf his “farts teacher”. He would have to make amends for his insolence at his next lesson.
      He was in Kandarin again, at last!  Quickly, he made his way to Addy’s clearing and arrived as the sun began to warm the air and the flowers began to open. Birds were singing everywhere for it was springtime in the Land.  Honey bees began to visit every flower.  Addy wasn’t there, though.  His heart sank when he realized that it might be that she had given up on him ever returning, but he decided to wait in the case she might return. He amused himself by following the honeybees back to the hole in their hollow tree. He imitated his Survival Arts instructor by lighting a bunch of damp grass and confusing the bees with smoke while he held onto the trunk of the tree with his legs. Then, he reached into the hole and brought out a chunk of honeycomb. 
     He broke-fast eating some of the honey while sitting on Addy’s flat rock.  Soon, he noticed a cup-shaped depression in the rock.  In the cup lay two half-dried three-leafed clovers.  He pondered the meaning of his find staring intently into the cup.
      Hiiiiii yaaaaaaaaa!   Someone had jumped into the clearing, which surprised and startled him so badly that he tumbled backwards off the rock.  When he peeked over the edge he saw Addy doubled over with laughter.
      “You aren’t the only stealthy one in the woods, elf.”  she chortled.  
      Red-faced, he said “I knew you were there all the time. I was just fakin’.”  
      ” I believe you.” she stated with her eyes wide open, in mock agreement.
       At that, they both bent over double with laughter.  He gave her the rest of the honey and enjoyed watching her lick it all off her fingers.  They talked of the clovers and how she had waited and how he had fooled the portal.  They talked at length and sang. They explored Kandarin, staying out of sight as much as they could.  They played “Mock Battles” and chased unicorns and rolled down grassy hills until dusk.
      “I should go.” He said looking at his toes.
      “I’m not going home tonight.” she stated, looking at her own. “There’s nothing left for me there.  I brought food and blankets. Stay, please, I’m a little afraid to be alone.”
       He swallowed, “I’ve been thinking the same thing. There’s nothing at that house for me; it’s not a good home . . . but I’m not afraid and I don’t need a blanket.” Ahhh, the foolish pride of an elf-boy.
      They ate bread and cheese. They told stories. They watched the stars. They listened to insects and frogs chirping. Fast becoming best friends, they got sleepy and found a dense copse of small trees with a mat of thick grass a short distance behind the rock. 
       “It still gets chilly at night.”  she stated, holding out a blanket.
      “Nahhhh thank you, I’ll be ok.” He smiled. 
      They lay down a distance apart and each said “Goodnight”. Just before Elflen went to sleep, he thought he heard something. He did hear something, for his elf senses were acute. But the sounds were too subtle to recognize . . .
     
 “Heersss our chanccce to do them innn,” something whispered.
      “Hold, you idiottt,” came the reply. “The bosss says only watchhh themmm.  He needsss to destroy the the powerrr of the Prophesssy.  The Three could end all His deliciousss planss of painnn and misssery for the Land. I know you say these are but two, not three, and two too young, but the bosss sssaysss!”
                                                                            * * *
      
It seems all their laughter, singing, and happiness had indeed roused interest – of a dark sort.
Patience, dear seeker of truth.  The next part of the story is coming soon as you can turn the page. Meanwhile, find the song within you, for you are going to need it . . .”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

                         Part Three

                         Discovery

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       When Elflen awoke, he found he had been covered by a blanket and he was grateful. The evening warmth was long gone by sunup. Addy was already awake, had built a fire, and was standing there studying him in a way he had never before experienced. It felt strange, but she was smiling and that somehow made him feel good at the same time. 
        Their next few days were spent exploring the Kingdom of Kandarin while living off the land. Elf learned things he had not known, such as, that Kandarin was the largest province in the RuneScape domain; that it was ruled by King Thoros in the city of East Ardougne, but also had a weak form of democratic government. Addy learned that Elf’s ancestors had come to Elvenrealms on sailing ships from The West, and that elves were among the oldest races on Gielinor.

After three weeks on their own, and becoming increasingly ‘homesick’, they both finally relented and agreed to return to their respective homes. Even though their home lives had been much less than ideal, they found that they were, nevertheless, somewhat attached to their families. They were surprised that their parents had missed them, were concerned for them, and even tried to show love and forgiveness in their own awkward ways.

Their book studies and training in fighting skills kept them busy. “Young people learning fighting skills?” you might wonder. It was a dangerous world in danger of becoming more dangerous. The Land overflowed with monstrosities abounding in number and variety. Treachery and betrayal were becoming the norm for acquiring power and wealth. Dangerous factions ebbed and flowed and people could never know exactly when they might become a random pawn in some tyrant’s plan. Everyone learned combat skills not only for personal defense, but for the defense of their villages and countries. Elflen, strong beyond his age, excelled in the bow and the sword. Master Arianwyn was glad to have him back as even he could learn from Elf’s imaginative, clever techniques with weaponry. He was even quite acceptable at magic. 
Addy, too, was becoming quite skillful with a combat magic staff under the W.O.M. of Draynor. He continued to encourage her unique improvisational skills for using the staff as a melee weapon as well as a caster of spells. Her fluid handling of her bow and arrows quite amazed him. She preferred small blades to the sword, however, although she was more than adept with a scimitar.

Time flew, but after a season, they were back together, drawn like steel to lodestone. They wandered Kandarin, then traveled farther east into the regions of Asgarnia and even Misthalin. They went west, deep into the Elvenrealms, all the while meeting and interacting with the residents of each region of The Land. In Seers’ Village, in Draynor, and in Lletya they learned variations in all three styles of the fighting arts.  The bow, the blade, and the staff each came to be as extensions of their bodies as they grew not only in skill but in stature. The demands of providing for themselves were tempered by conversation, song, dance, reading, learning, and much laughter. They were in their own world while discovering the real world. The real world was oft not pleasant. The unseen world was even worse.

A year passed, then two more. They followed the pattern of staying at home placating their parentals and spending precious time with their mentors and instructors learning combat, history, numbers, wordcraft, health, religion, and government. They became ‘well rounded’ as the saying goes. Neither had siblings, so home became a weight. 
Notably, they each visited the other’s home and met the parents just to be polite. They suspected they would have to endure the inevitable repercussions concerning ‘racial differences’, but afterward they were left unscathed and there were no casualties on either side. They each even introduced the other to their mentors and instructors, who all marveled at their skill, teamwork, and compatibility during freestyle practice with them. 
        
Each evening they would hold hands for hours. Each night they looked into each-other’s eyes and smiled. “I See Your Light” they would say, like some of the elder elf couples they had stayed with who had learned to “see into” people.  
Creatures such as gnomes, ogres, giants, dark elves and dwarves, to name but a few, became their friendly adversaries in games of “Mock Battles” even to the point of pretending to expire under particularly impressive displays of combat skill. 
The pair fought side-by-side and back-to-back, sometimes even hand-in-hand, circling, revolving, leaping, throwing each other into the air, and tumbling – always moving. Their style was dynamic, changing unpredictably. When those adversaries gained their feet, everyone laughed and celebrated together, only to rejoin combat until all were exhausted. Other creatures were not so accepting. Among them, the demons, the shades, the dragons, and the evil mages, were vicious, cunning, mean, and to be avoided. 
Addy and Elflen, needless to say, became adventurers and explorers well-known throughout the land.

South in the winter and north in summer became their habit; east in autumn and west in spring, always seeking new experiences and knowledge. To get around, they used teleport runes, teleportals, lodestone locations, ‘agility shortcuts’, and their own feet. Occasionally, they would coax a unicorn to let them ride on its back for awhile. As far as I know, they are the only ones who have gotten away with that.

The pair enjoyed praying at the altar in the little Saradominist Church south of Port Sarim. Near there, they met and became friends with Father Uhrney, one of the many monks scattered about the countryside. 
They met the lowly and the high, warriors and wizards, seers and knights, merchants and smiths, and even kings and queens during their travels. Some of those powerful men and women hired them to do small jobs and even to quest for them. They were, as always, self-sufficient and inseparable . . . and followed . . . and spied-upon.
        
There were those who were aware of the quiet, escalating schemes of shadowy, unseen horrors. The chief Seer, Scryafar, in Seer’s Village warned them about their over-exposure, as did the Wise Old Man of Draynor, and also Arianwyn of Lletya, Elvenrealms. 
Of course, they, being young, were obliviously unconcerned.

                                                                                    ~ ~ ~

 
Time passed like a mountain stream. Their ages passed eighteen, and it came to pass that Addy became beautiful and smart. Elflen became handsome and wise. Both became mature in agility, masterful with weaponry, and wise in lore. Like a rare, colorful, fragrant tropical flower, love blossomed.
But in the world, evil was also covertly blossoming like an arcane black orchid. Behind it all was a boss who wallowed and writhed in reeking underground tar-lined cesspools. This evil-one began to fear our heroic couple. 
          “They are twooo of the threee, I’m certainnn of thattt!” he rasped to the dark captains of his minions. “We need not killl them, for they are of more ussse to usss alive, yettt we need to ssseparate their heartsss from one-anotherrrr,” he hisssed. “Togetherrr they arrre too ssstronggg! They are dangerousss to usss according to the prophesiesss! We mussst end thisss hideousss reignnn of goodnesss in the Lannnd before the real truthhh isss dissscovered. And find the third, you idiotsss, we must lllocate the thirddd!” he raged. “Now, heresss what you are to dooo . . .”

                                                                                    ~ ~ ~
        
The young couple occassionally spent some time apart in their respective homelands. It was upon one of those times, returning from her home in Kandarin to meet Elf, that Addy was approached by a young, powerful mage who managed to turn her head ever so slightly from Elflen. Behind Elflen’s back, she met with Aztrono in secret and, little by little, he taught her arcane magicks, secretly bending her will to his, for he wanted her for his own more as a slave than a companion. She was gradually enthralled and enchanted without knowing it. The lure of magic is seductive.
        Elflen could see in her eyes that she was conflicted. She still professed her love for him, but he sensed something very wrong happening. He glimpsed the mage and Addy together sometimes, yet upon asking her what was going on, she would look away and say that the magician was merely training her. 

Don’t interfere with my Magic Arts training! This is a new and powerful kind of craft! It will benefit us to have it!” she would say, angrily. He intuitively knew to do so would only drive her away completely, so he decided to hang on and hope for a miracle. She was headstrong. It was one of the things he liked about her; one of the many things that they had in common, but a risky thing as well.
      “This is dangerous,” he would tell her. “Not only our ‘we’ and our ‘us’ could be compromised, but something is dreadfully wrong here. My senses smell evil in this.”
       “Pfffffft” she would say, “You are the one I have chosen and Az knows that. There’s nothing wrong. I just want to learn what he knows.” All Elf could say was, “Az? Now you call him Az?”
        Her rationalization notwithstanding, Elflen could see the changes in her. She spent more and more time away from him. She ran from place to place seemingly obsessed over magic, and over Aztrono, who had a hold over Addy that Elflen tried to, but could not understand. The elf could not sleep, nor eat, nor even see his surroundings in the special light in which he had always seen things. She said she was happy, and revitalized, yet the light in her eyes had turned darker.  Worst of all, she could not ‘see his light’ with her heart like before.
        Our Elf was reaching the end of his rope. He was not sure he could watch this happen any longer.  Addy was blatantly accompanying Aztrono everywhere now, even to places which had been exclusively ‘theirs’. He hardly saw her anymore. It felt like she was dying to him and he knew that if he didn’t let his longing for her go, he might very well die himself. He wanted to kill the mage outright, but he knew that not only would he lose Addy in the process, but lose his immortal soul as well. “I can’t force her to love me. She has chosen . . .” The numbness began in his feet, traveled to his head and lodged in his heart. One evening, head hanging in heartache, he dragged his bow as he walked back to Addy’s rock, where he had been camping nights. Occasionally he would pull arrows from his quiver, snap them into two pieces, and throw them on the ground, stomping them viciously into the soil. The trail was muddy from his tears, for, when elves do cry, they cry rivers. “Ohhhh, if ever i needed a miracle, it is now,” he wept to the trees and to any creature who could hear him.

     “Hahahaaa it’s worrrking betterrr than I had thhhoughttt,” said the Black-One in a loud whisper-hiss.

      The next day, after sleeping fitfully with dark dreams, the elf awoke to the sounds of birds. Something warm lay next to him. It was a body. He saw it was Addy’s body. 
    “What the . . .” He gained his feet, grabbed his pack and weapons, and began to hurry away in disgust as she slept.
        
      “Where you going, Elf? Stay here awhile, what’s your hurry?”
        
      ” I can’t stay and watch you go around with that mage any longer.”
        
      ” Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”
         
      He whirled and looked at her. Something about her had changed. And beside her were all the arrows he had dropped, completely repaired better than new.

I lost my senses, my Elf.” Somehow some of them have returned. Please, please forgive me.”

Hesitantly, he stayed. They sat and ate and talked all that day. It was the first full day she had spent with him in a season. She expressed her sorrow over what she had done. She knew she had been blinded somehow.      
     “Milady Addy, I forgive you, I’m just glad you’re back,” he said bowing sincerely.
      “Thank you, Milord Elf, I’m very happy to be back,” she said with a heartfelt curtsy.
That night they looked at one-another and said together in unison “I SEE YOUR LIGHT”. . .

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since Elflen seems to have received his hoped-for miracle, I include this important footnote from the writings of Sir Reldo Trimmly, Librarian and Historian of Varrock, concerning miracles from the gods:

{ Footnote: “I, Reldo, am here to tell you that I’ve seen it in historical records many times. I cannot hold this in! Our gods, Saradomin, Guthix, and/or Zamorak, wait until the last possible moment to save a situation with miracles that only they can perform. That presents solid proof of their existence, though no mortal has seen more than a glimpse them. I believe completely in their miracles as I do completely in them, my creators.”
Elflen of Elvenrealms and Addy of Kandarin need no convincing on this point either. Praises be to our gods!}
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                  Part Four

                    Attack

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Oakkk rrrap!!” roared the raging dark Boss S. The two are back togetherrr? Rrreconciled? I hatesss rrreconciled!” “AAARRRGGGHHH,” he raged. “Bringgg me thattt fffool mage, we need to talkkk!!!” By ‘talkkk’, he probably meant ‘screeeam and severely punishhh’ . . .

             
       Three days after Addy’s return to sanity and to Elflen, the King of Varrock sent them a message. He stated that there was a rogue band of giants making trouble too near the castle, and some “Elf and Addy diplomacy” was needed. They agreed to help even though they would need to venture a short way into the dangers of the North Wilderness to do so. 

Upon arriving at the location in question, they found a band of twelve Moss Giants near a short, curving, rocky cliff northwest of the city. As the pair rounded the end point of the curving rock wall, the giants turned quickly, surprised. The two humans found out that the giants had been lured there by a shade with promises of gold and a feast, and they had been told only to make lots of noise, cause a ruckus, and attract attention. They were also told there would be a friendly match of combat with some old friends.  
       “I detect a smelly rat in the food sack,” said Addy, swiftly pulling the crystal bow from her back. Her keen senses had returned.
       “Just what I was thinking, my dear,” Elf gave her a knowing look and drew his magic Elder bow.
       ” Huh?” grunted the rather dim giants.
       “Draw weapons! Ward yourselves,” yelled Elflen. “Get serious!”
         The giants were still milling around in a state of confusion when the figure in black robes came around the opposite rocky point a hundred paces away.
The hooded figure walked several steps to the side and signaled to someone behind the point.  Suddenly several shades rushed around the point and formed a triangle around the hooded mage.  Then a score each of lesser, greater, and black demons streamed around the corner and began rushing them with claws and fangs bared. 
Not being fond of demons, the giants finally reacted by forming a defensive wall in front of Elflen and Addy, who began to draw their bows tight!
From behind the tree-like legs of the giants they loosed a barrage of runite arrows at the murderous demons, felling several and making several others retreat. 
        “I’ll take care of these, beloved, see what you can do about that triangle. Advance, Giants,” shouted the elf.
         “Right, hun, I know some magic that should work,” she replied, as she quickly unstrapped the intricately-carved staff from her back.
          While the elf archer slew several more demons, the young lore-wielder unleashed a blazing fireball at the mage, who raised his staff and instantly quenched it.
            The battle seemed to pause as a huge ball of steam rose into the gray sky.
           “Hahahahahahahaaa,” scoffed the mage as he threw back his hood. “Everything I taught you is useless, you little idiot!”
           “Aztrono!” . . . Her countenance sunk with full realization.
           “What in Guthix’s name? Elf and Addy shouted in unison as she planted her feet and unleashed a huge ‘earth blast’ spell at the evilly-grinning mage, who quickly turned it into a ball of mud which landed in front of the triangle of shades.
            “Giants! A wedge!” shouted Elf, realizing that this was going to be a battle for their lives. The giants, who were slow to anger, became angry now for they hated demons, who often stole their children, and moved forward as a wedge-shaped unit brandishing their clubs made of large yew trunks.  Addy and Elf  stayed behind the giants, shooting arrow after arrow into grotesque black bodies.  
            Elf then shouted to Addy, “Forget what you learned, go with what you’ve always known. Switch to the Old Spellbook.”
            “You’re right, my Elf,” as she began to chant her old incantations – the ones rooted in the earth, the water, the air, and in the fiery power of love. The air began to smell of flowers instead of blood as she found the needed song within herself and began to sing the words sweetly and powerfully.  
            The giants were clubbing demons ferociously and making good progress when a black dragon appeared behind the demons and killed several giants with its firebreath.  
             “Elendia Telith Marseeemaaa!”, sang Addy, so sweetly that everyone was surprised when white fire erupted from her staff and roared directly at the dragon. When the fire covered the dragon, it simply rose up on its hind legs, turned, scales smoking, and ambled back around the point of rocks and was gone. 
           The mage, who had been hurling sharp, maiming, purple spells at the giants, looked astonished.  “Well, well,” he mocked, “What have we here? You are nothing, you stupid little girl, my power comes from He-Who-Ruins!” he snickered as the three remaining giants and the elf finished the demons and turned toward the triangle. The mage, Aztrono, chanted a few arcane-sounding words and the triangle of shades began to rotate as the giants, with Addy and Elf behind them, began to advance on it. Then the mage bent down and began to form something from the mudball which had fallen earlier.  
    “My arrows are passing through the shades, but deflect somehow before they strike the mage,” yelled the elf to his companion. “I will have to get close enough to use my Saradomin Godsword to cleave their heads from their bodies, but will that work since we can see through them?”  
      “Wait,” said Addy as she grabbed at the amulet she wore around her neck and chanted,  “Make real  the unseen, solidify these shadows,” she shouted. The shades began to take on substance – to look more lifelike. “Maybe what you taught me is useless, mage, but there are things I know which you couldn’t dream of.”
       The shades looked bewildered, but nevertheless began to build up some sort of charge as their triangle rotated faster.  Addy held her amulet tighter and raised her staff as Elf drew his bow and put two arrows at once into two shades which fell then disappeared. The triangle closed just before Addy let loose a large spear-like purple spell at the mage. The mage reacted by holding his hand up in a defensive gesture which served to reverse the spell, break it into three parts and send it straight toward the giants’ vulnerable lower legs. As the giants went to their knees, the elf shot three arrows at the shades which were the points of the triangle, dissolving all three. The three remaining giants were crawling forward now, straining to get close enough to club the shades and the mage. Paralysis, however was creeping up their torsos from the magic dart spells the mage had hurled at them. 
       Elflen saw this and shouted “Let clubs fly true, Giants, then lie still!”
       The giants heard, and so, reared back their mighty arms and flung their clubs spinning toward the small triangle of shades which scattered to avoid them, leaving the mage, who was stooping, exposed briefly. Taking advantage of the opening, Addy, quick as lightning, drew her specially enchanted poisoned dagger and whipped it straight at the mage as she sang “True and straight, sweet blade to foe, that he would harm our friends no more.” The dagger caught Aztrono off guard burying itself in the top of his shoulder, making him scream in pain while looking up in time to see all but three of his shades felled by the giants’ spinning clubs. Only his lore-masters remained. 
     “Shades form up!” he shouted as he cast a spell which formed a shimmering gray wall around him and his triangle of the three remaining minions. This just in time to deflect two of Elf’s hurriedly shot arrows. The mage then stood up with an object in his hand, pulled the bloody knife from his shoulder, and plunged it into the object. Elf and Addy stood side-by-side in front of the prone giants. Elflen drew his long, shining Sara G and Addy raised her staff above her head horizontally in a solid defensive barrier position, but as they did so, they both saw what the mage had plunged Addy’s dagger into. It was a figure made of baked clay and it was shaped like a woman. It had what looked like dark hair with highlights of red in it. It also had a strip of Addy’s own teal-colored blouse tied around it.
        ” You stinking, scurvy rat” Addy shouted, incredulous.
        ” Addy, it’s only a trick!” shouted Elf, stepping protectively in front of her.
With that, the shades and mage threw a black, tarry spell at Elf, which when he tried to deflect it, knocked the sword from his hand and temporarily froze his muscles. Immediately, they concocted a sharp purple killing spell to send straight toward Elflen’s heart. In the next beating of that stout heart the unthinkable happened.
         “Nooooooooo” cried Addy, quickly stepping in front of Elf to ward him. As she did so, she summoned a horrible red fire from the end of her staff which engufled and incinerated the killing dart. Then she aimed the fire straight at the mage. Aztrono quickly jammed the figurine onto the end of his staff and countered Addy’s fire with an evil black fire. Addy found the deepest song within herself and sang power into her staff which began to hum with a resonating song of its own and emit a narrow stream of blinding, white fire. Aztrono looked strained as he contorted his bloody arm and chanted bizarre, evil incantations to his own fell staff. The interface where the white and black fires met crackled and smoked as raw, unbridled energy heated the air. Elf began to regain movement and tried to reach for his sword. All he saw then was the screaming mage grasping the dagger in the effigy of Addy, the black fire also shrieking deafeningly, the interface exploding, and the fires moving back upstream to Addy’s staff where it exploded in her face. Elf regained his sword and in one motion hurled it directly at the mage’s heart and caught Addy before she hit the ground. Just before the sword reached him, the grinning mage raised his smoking staff and he and the three shades disappeared in a flash of sickly green light.  
      Elflen was in a daze as he stood with Addy in his arms. 
     “Oh, great Saradomin, I need help!” Her body was limp in his arms, yet she still breathed.
      One of the giants slowly rolled to his side and spoke thickly in deep giantish bass. “Quickly . . . before . . . they . . . return. A cave . . . 50 paces . . . north by west.”   
       In desperation, Elflen moved as fast as he could, found the nearly hidden entrance to the cave, and ducked inside.  He found a pallet of dried grass and leaves where someone had once made a bed and gently laid Addy on it. She roused. All her skin was torn, bleeding, bruised, and burned by the ferocity of the blast, but especially that on her face.  
        “Shhhh just rest”
         “Whyyyy were we attacked, my Elf? It’s all my fault.” Their eyes were locked together as he dug around in his pack.  
         “I don’t know, but we will find out. Here, drink some water and potion of restoration.”
         ” I’m too broken, my love, I’m dying.” I’m so sorry I failed you.” she spoke, weakly.
         “Nonsense, beloved, you saved my life! Be still awhile, you will be fine,” he said softly. He felt the black, tarry spell still working toxically within him. Secretly, he began to be very worried about them both. 
         ” My darling, did you hear my innermost song?”
         ” Yes, I heard it, like all the songs you found within yourself and sang to me. Of such beauty I am undeserved. Now drink, quickly, I beg you.”
          “Please, can you remember them in your heart? It is important to me.”
          “Yes, how could I forget? I love you very much.”
          “Elf, I’m afraid,” she whispered, “Hold me tighter. Kiss me, dear Elf.”
          She was looking into his soul now, and he into hers. Surely she would recover and they could go on together. Surely.
           “I can do that. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He bent down and kissed her torn lips as gently, as tenderly as he could. She kissed back, pulled his head to hers and kissed him harder. She drew back, then she gasped, looked deeply into him and said “I SEE YOUR LIGHT, my Elf. Then she sighed, closed her eyes and was gone. 
Yes gone. 
Simply not there any longer.  
Elflen stared at the empty pallet and his empty arms. He blinked three times, his mouth fell open, and he passed from consciousness . . . . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My pain in having to write of this tragedy,
this harsh saga of unfinished love,
this incomplete and unsatisfying conclusion,
Makes me thankful that I have found my own song within.
Take heart, though, dear reader.
There is much more sorrow and joy yet to be revealed.
You haven’t even met Rhylie yet.
Have you forgotten?
You do want to meet Rhylie – don’t you?

Yours,

                                                                                           ~  ~  ~  ~
This fifth part is my continuation of The Chronicle I began years ago. Much new light has been shed upon the story. The river of Time has long flowed under the bridge of Creation. Tribulation has snapped at my heels. This story, this history, I write and then conceal is of supreme import. This be not boast, for I keep myself sequestered as not to take glory, but only give it. Please, dear reader who has found and who holds this journal, keep it safe and see that it reaches loving eyes. I implore you – for the future good of Gielinor, and your own.

I am The Chroniclist, sometimes named The Scribe.
Am I, perhaps, dying in words, or merrily waking alive?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Five

Cloakendagger

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A seemingly ordinary elf-girl lay on her bed watching through the adjacent window as the full moon rose. The dim orange light reflected from her emerald eyes as she in turn reflected upon her exploits of the previous night. Sleep would not come even though she was weary, for the clandestine journey she had taken the night before to answer her questions had only made her ask more. More about herself. More about her parents. More about the world’s dangerous corruption. More about fighting, and monsters, and war. More questions about life in general, and about the gods.
The gods. The supremacy of the three gods just didn’t add up. How could she choose one to follow when none appealed to her? Why was she even required by society to swear allegiance to one over the other two?

She was the kind to be constantly occupied in thought, and in trying to determine which of her ever-changing imaginary scenarios was the most likely to happen.

The moon had already passed into the top half of the window positioned in the thick stonemasonry of the exterior wall of her room. The orb looked like the face of a juicy orange cut in half. She half smiled at it, then rolled onto her side and supported her head with her hand. Her mind hummed with the inner monologue that never seemed to slow. Even in sleep, colorful, complex dreams kept her mind busy. Tonight weariness, stress, and the anxieties natural to her age led her thoughts in an unnaturally darker direction.

“I don’t feel like me, but if I’m not who I am, who am I, really?” she silently asked the moon. “Oh that sounds so dumb! I’m so confused. But why do I always get the feeling that they are keeping a secret?” she asked the walls. “Why do they not let me do anything? I’m fifteen now! Why do they screen my friends, especially the boy kind? Why do I have to be accompanied everywhere, or followed? I don’t think they know I know they have me followed. Not that it matters. Lately I just feel like being by myself. It’s probably only my imagination . . . but no, it is not! They still think of me as a child even though I am taller, quicker, stronger, and much smarter than the others in my class at Corwynn Intermediate. They don’t think I notice, but I see lots. Why am I treated differently than my peers are? I shouldn’t be critical, I owe them everything and I do love them. But, what does my life actually mean? Why do I feel like I’m different – so worthless and unlovable on one hand and over-valued and over-protected on the other?”
Her mind was gaining downhill momentum: “Why do I have this empty feeling, like something’s missing; like some truth is yet to be uncovered; like someone is lost and it might be me, or; or, if not me, someone? There is secrecy and even the secrecy is covered up in secrecy. Why are my dear parents such recluses? And why am I the only red-top in the whole village of Corwynn?” she asked herself, as a tear rolled across her temple and into her rumpled, red, gorgeously red, extraordinarily red hair. Even my friends taunt and tease; Cherry head! Red cap!”
Why, big, fat, old moon in the sky? Why do I feel this way.
Why?

Quicker than a blink, a furry black ball of mischief jumped upon her bed. “Midnight! You crazy kit,” how do you always know when I need a boost?” The roundish black kitten purred loudly as he rubbed his long-haired sides along her arm, and as she rolled him onto his back to tickle his cute silver-grey belly. He stared at her face with eyes that had been blue three weeks ago but were now a yellowy amber. He tilted his head as if to ask, “What is going on with you now? Well, forget it, this is all about meee!” Then he quickly jumped up, ran all the way around her, batted at her fingers, rolled over on his back, and began to purr loudly, as though he was determined to be the best purr-er in all E-realms.

She had researched and planned her journey for weeks after she had done the logical thing; asking her parents some of the questions plaguing her, and having them respond, “We don’t know exactly why we have to choose one god. It’s time-honored tradition, so we just do it.” Or, “Maybe it’s just your imagination.” Or, “We are just trying to take care of you the best we know how.” Or, “You are blessed to have such pretty hair.” Or, “I’m sorry you are feeling down today, grab your bow and we’ll shoot some rabbits.” None of their answers were very satisfying but the hunting was fun as both her mum-ma and da-pa were expert with a bow.
She reasoned that she would have to find her own answers, and that the famed library in Varrock might hold resources not available in her small village, or even in Llettya, the only elf-village of consequence she had been allowed to visit.

As Midnight’s eyes closed, her wavering, semi-sleepy thoughts roamed back to the previous night when she stealthily sneaked out of the cottage in the deep of the darkness and walked, quiet as a cat, blending into the forest, on the path leading to the portal . . .

She was indeed lithe and quick and bright – also advanced in Lore-Knowledge beyond her age. No other Elvish adolescents in their third set of five years could operate the new thought-portals. None that she knew of at least. “The portal system is the least of my logistical problems,” she thought. “I have to find a way to get into the Varrock Library without being seen, then figure out how to find the informational resources I need. It complicates the matter that the library is located in the back of the Varrock Palace, the home of King Roald and Queen Ellemaria. If I’m discovered, my life is done. At very least I will be cut off from any freedoms I still have.” Suddenly, it all seemed too difficult; not worth the possible consequences, however, curiosity, a determined sense of adventure, and confidence in her abilities persuaded her forward.

She had used the portals before. Her mum-ma and da-pa, being followers of the “white god”, Saradomin, sometimes took her along when they visited the small Saradominist church south of Port Sarim in Kandarin. They chose that church because of its isolation, and they only worshiped before sunrise when the local denizens were still abed. I mentioned once before the dislike of the Elves to be seen in a foreign land.
Though it went against all rules against minors using the equipment, her parents taught her how to operate the portal. It is no piece-of-cake to teach another the intricate mind-set required, for each mind is quite different and a high degree of technical intuition is required. She had much more than the necessary mind power though, never “missing” and sending the family to the wrong location. The intricate drawings she studied in Advanced Geography depicting all the important places in Gielinor were stored securely in her head. She was eager to use the knowledge even though her age was three years short of the legal teleportation age requirement. I hope you do not find it odd that a girl of this age, this intelligence, this depth, possesses a large amount of curiosity as well as rebelliousness. Seems perfectly natural to me – but please excuse. As I was saying . . .

It was little more than a thousand steps from her house (counting subconsciously, for many elves, is second-nature). She carried her glass flask enclosing a lamp-bug by her side for illumination. On her belt, near her right hand, was her light adamantine dagger in its sheath. As she arrived at the portal, she quickly formed a clear mental image of her destination and took the ‘return-crystal’ from its intricately carved Elderwood box atop the adjacent post. It flashed across her mind how the box and the crystal worked together to return the crystal’s holder to this specific portal. Taking note of the runic symbols on the lid of the box, she made sure to secure the crystal in the inner pocket of her pack and the lamp-bug in the pocket of her Spring cloak. “Well, here we go,” she thought. Reinforcing the image of the Varrock Library in her mind, she touched her forehead to the silver hoop-frame of the portal.

“It’s always a bit like being drawn into a whirlpool and getting turned inside-out at the same time,” she thought as she stood looking at the rear of the palace, “then being turned right-side-in and being shoved out. Very strange.”

She had landed near a tree behind which she quickly concealed herself in case any Palace Guards or Varrock Guards were patrolling nearby. Upon peering around the tree, she could see that guards were patrolling toward the front of the palace but there were none along the roof line or near the back. She had once considered walking in through the front gate during the daytime but wasn’t sure that she could conceal her race or age, nor pass for the scholarly, educated type of woman who might be allowed to use this facility. She had read that the king and queen were very particular about who they let inside.

The windows were barred and there was no back door. “That’s that, I don’t see a way in,” she thought, “I guess this will have to be just an exploratory trip.” She was facing the tower that formed the northwest corner of the building, about thirty paces distant across a grassy yard, and she knew that the library was next to the tower. There was a dim light in a window that she pictured being a library window. She noted that the moon, which had previously been covered by clouds, was now casting a shadow behind the massive building. The moon was nearly full.

“I need to get closer. Just don’t get caught, Dummy. That would seriously dishonor Mum and Da.” Just as she decided to leave the tree and sneak up to the building, two palace guards rounded the front corner and moved along the side of the structure in her direction. Fear triggered a strong blending reaction and she became as much like tree bark as possible. Even her hair turned a mossy rust-green, but she couldn’t stop the quiver of her knees.
“Pickpocket!” yelled someone near the courtyard gates. The two guards turned quickly and headed toward the trouble. She slumped to the ground, beads of sweat forming on her brow. She peeked around the tree. A motion near the center of the palace wall caught her attention.

“A mouse or a small rat running under the window with the light in it. Still running toward the tower. It’s gone! It should have rounded the corner into the moonlight.” Curiosity took control. She crept across the area of moonlight into the moon-shadow and all the way to the wall. Being careful of her foot placement, she moved toward the tower’s base which formed the corner of the building. There was her answer – a grate. “That rodent’s hideout could be my way in.” She bent down to inspect the heavy wire mesh. It was the pop-in kind of grate – not fastened except by friction. She could feel air coming out of the building through the opening, then, after a few moments, it reversed and went inward as though the palace was breathing. “Must be for ventilation. I read about this kind of thing in Intro To Architecture class.” Grasping the grate with both hands, she pulled. Nothing. She sat and braced her feet against the wall and tried again. This time it popped out. After listening for guards, she took the lamp-bug lantern from her pocket and looked inside. She saw a cube-shaped area large enough for her to turn around in. There was a square tunnel made with rocks and mortar leading in the direction of the front of the palace. A similar tunnel went to the left toward the library area. Without hesitation, she crawled into the space. “Ugh, this floor is filthy.” She sat her lamp inside and quickly pulled the grate back into its place. Turning in the direction of the library, she began to crawl through the small passageway pushing her lantern in front. Progress was slow and uncomfortable. She had to keep her back awkwardly low.
SQUEEK!
It echoed loudly from up ahead.
She jerked and hit her head on the ceiling. “Dang! Should have expected that. Ouch!
A few paces ahead, she could see a space in the ceiling of the tunnel. “A shaft goes up!”
When she reached it, she found she could kneel. There was another grate. Through it she could see dim light made by a candle or a small lamp. “Cover the lamp bug!” Don’t give yourself away!” She put the lamp back in her pocket.
A pace and a half in front of the grate was a chair, then a large desk. The desk was cluttered with books and papers. The walls were lined with shelves of books. “Found it! Make sure no-one is around. It’s late, but you never know.” She watched and listened for what seemed long enough. “No sign of life.”
This grate was also the pop-in kind. She pushed. It moved much easier than the outdoor one and she almost dropped it. “Shhh,” she inhaled between her clenched teeth. Carefully setting it to the side, she crawled through the hole and peeked around the corner of the desk. She could see a large doorway which opened into the main library. There was a small oil lamp burning on the desk.
She stood, brushing the dust and grime from her hands, knees, and cloak. She rubbed the small bump on her head. “Good. No blood.” She removed her pack, set it in front of the grate, and moved to the front of the desk. There was a wooden name plate on the front of the desk: “Master R. Trimmly – Librarian”
“Omagosh sakes,” this is Sir Reldo Trimmly’s office. Some of her instructors actually knew the famous Varrock Librarian and Master Historian of Gielinor. There was a portrait of him hanging on the wall opposite the desk. He wore eyeglasses. “He must like looking at his own likeness. Careful, now. Don’t get all awestruck and clumsy . . . Dang, these boots are too noisy.” She hastily removed her hardleather boots and gently placed them beside her pack. “Should have worn my mocs, but at least I have my no-slip yak-hair socks.”

Sir Reldo’s meticulous organization of the main library shelves belied his messy, unorganized office. That seemed to be a common trait of all the teachers and gatherers of knowledge she knew. “I don’t think the man ever met a piece of paper he didn’t like,” she grinned at her own humor.
The large shelves in the corner caught her attention. From floor to ceiling, newspapers were stacked. The Varrock Herald. Possibly every edition that existed, all categorized by year of the Sixth Age. “I should be able to learn lots from these, but it will take time.”
Her curiosity led her to peer around the door jamb into the large area housing the main stacks. “Huge! Hundreds, no thousands of volumes!” Again awestruck, she held her lamp at her side and walked down the dark, main aisle. Every corner was covered with strips of decorative carved oak. Every bookcase and shelf was an artistic wooden frame. Every wall was filled, floor to ceiling, with books, scrolls, and manuscripts. The magnificent room was heavy with the smell of leather and old paper.

“I need to get busy. I should start with the gods.” She had reviewed the VL system of classification, thus knowing to look in the side aisle labeled “Spiritual/Religions”.
The number of books about the gods was overwhelming, but she finally settled on one called “White, Red, and Green, The Colors of Deity” by Harold Hawthorne. There was a reading table at the wall end of each side-stack, so she sat, opened the book, and placed her lamp where it would illuminate the pages. The lamp-bug shone brighter seemingly thankful for being stationary at last.

Saradomin – the white god, dresses in argent and gold. He is a warrior for peace, justice and the protection of his people. Yes, I know lots about him. Let’s see, Guthix – the green god, dresses in leaf-green robes with grey/brown bark trim. He is a warrior for balance in all things, for kindness, goodness, and the love of nature. Zamorak – the red god, dresses in red, yellow, and black. He is a warrior for fire and destruction, for conquest and subjection. Some say he is evil; bent on murder and mayhem. “A little too basic. I know much of this information.”
She read on, making mental notes, moving to other titles, learning as much as she could about the gods’ histories, deeds, personalities, characters, and whims. It was apparent not much was known. They were secretive. There were implications here that it was only tradition that a person had to choose one god of the three to worship, exalt, and be loyal to. Possibly only rooted in superstition. There seemed to be no law pertaining to the practice. What she read seemed like a lot of speculation. “From what I’ve found, it seems as if everyone in the world would follow Guthix, especially we Elves,” she reasoned, “I have no idea why Mum and Da follow Saradomin. When I ask, they give no logical reasons. Maybe I can engage them in a discussion about all the gods now that I know . . . what was that?
A sound, like a creaking door opening on the far side of the room. Quickly putting her lamp in its pocket, she listened. Voices! Low and muffled. Succumbing to curiosity, she edged her way to the main corridor. She listened. Using a method of silent movement she called ‘cat-walking’, she crossed the wide aisle and flattened herself against a row of stacks. Slowly she crept in the dim light to the end of the stack and looked around the corner. There was a strip of light seeping from under the only door between the shelves of books on that long wall. The light under the door was randomly interrupted by shadows moving behind the door. She had to look inside. The large keyhole afforded her the opportunity. It was a small, candle-lit, storage type of room.

“I see ornate storage cabinets on the wall. Crates filled with books in rows on the floor. A man with his back turned to the door, three children standing before him, three small desks, one larger desk, and an open trap door. Wait, the children have pale greenish skin and large brown eyes. They seem a little skittish and wary, but have kind, innocent faces. One looks like a girl. Light reddish pony-tail. They are not children! But what? I saw a drawing once. Cave goblins? Could be. Much nicer and smarter than surface goblins. Eyes larger from living underground. The little people all facing the man who is thanking them for their work; their diligence. They lower their heads slightly in reply. He hands them each a lit lantern and a cloth pouch. I hear the sound of gold coins in the pouches. He says he will see them again in two days. They agree and leave through the trap door and step down some stairs. The man carefully closes the trap door, then goes to the larger desk and lifts a large, heavy, leather- covered volume from its pedestal. Cradling it in his right arm, he pushes lightly on a decorative wooden panel on the wall. It’s not a panel at all, it’s a secret door to a hiding-box in the wall. He lifts the large book, carefully places it into the hiding place, and closes the panel until it clicks into place. He has a pony-tail, too; and spectacles. That is none other than Master Trimmly! He is moving to each small desk and appears to be collating piles of rectangular pieces of paper. He is placing several inkwells and quills into a cabinet, retrieving the stack of paper, blowing out candles, and . . . heading directly toward me!” “Move, Dummy! Quickly, she did move to her right and slipped between two rows of stacks, once more flattening herself against them, heart hammering. The door opened and then closed and latched. She heard a key in a lock. “Good, he is heading toward his office,” . . . “Nooo! Rats! My pack; my boots; the grate! He’ll see them for sure, then call the guards! Think! You need to think fast!”
She waited until the man’s footsteps faded, cat-walked to the front of the room near the entrance, pulled a book off the shelves, and dropped it noisily. Quickly, she moved to the side of the room where she had read the books. “Good, he took the bait. I hear his footsteps backtracking to where I was.” She ‘cat-ran’ this time. Reaching the office, she heard, “Who is there? Come out!” but Reldo was at the front of the building.

“Around the desk. Grab the pack and boots. Toss them into the tunnel. Back down into it myself. Reach for the grate. Quick but quiet. Heart beating so hard it almost hurts. Pull the grate into place. Good! Back into the shadows. Be still. Don’t even breathe.”
Three seconds later, the librarian entered his office and placed the stack of papers in the bottom drawer. “That was strange,” he muttered as though he had a companion, “Someone must have put that book back halfway and it fell on its own.”

Dead still, but trembling inside, the little elf watched from the dark, damp, shadow at the back wall of the tunnel as Sir Reldo Trimmly locked his desk drawers then picked up the oil lamp and left the office. She was now in complete darkness. She noticed a stench that hadn’t been there before she entered the office. As she reached for the small lamp inside her cloak, something brushed her from behind, or was it a slight bump? Her heart almost stopped as she opted to reach for her dagger instead of the lamp. She twisted around and slashed in the direction of the threat but only cut the thick, foul, air. Sagging back against the wall, she quickly retrieved her lamp but saw nothing, save the filthy floor to her left. An inner pressing darkness took hold of her. “This wasn’t such a good idea. I’ve got to get out of here!” She thought about having to crawl the long distance to the far grate, when: “The crystal! I can operate the crystal right here . . . I think – can’t I?” Hastily, she pulled her boots on, tied the leather laces, and removed the return-crystal from the inner pocket of her pack. Securing her lamp in her cloak pocket, she wrapped the cloak securely around her, placed her arms through the straps of the pack, and whispered, “Here goes.” Placing the pointed end of the crystal against her forehead exactly where she had previously touched the rim of the portal, she concentrated on the intricate runic symbols she memorized from the lid of the Elderwood box back in the Forest of Isafdar. The crystal began to warm slightly and hum faintly. She felt the familiar inner agitation but this time it didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like it should. Instead of instantly materializing at the intended portal she was again sitting in the tunnel for only the blink of an eye, then was plopped down in the seated position from the height of about two hand widths next to the Elderwood box. “Ouch! Glad no-one was here to see that. That was weird – not supposed to happen, I don’t think so, anyway.” Her body was completely disoriented and unresponsive as she attempted to get to her feet.

At last she was home. She quietly made her way to her room hoping her absence hadn’t been noticed. Daylight was almost beginning to break over the forest as she removed her dirty pack, cloak, boots and socks. She set the lamp-bug on her night stand and collapsed onto her bed. “Sooo glad it’s Saturn’s Day. No school!” Midnight came out from under the bed to receive some petting, looked at her from feet to head, opened his eyes as wide as they would open, growled his kitten growl, puffed up to twice his normal size, and retreated back under the bed. “Well goodnight to you too! I must look a mess. Awww, rats! My dagger is gone. When is the last time I had it? In the tunnel! I laid it down to get out the lamp and pull my boots on and, in my haste in the darkness, I forgot to sheath it back. RATS!” The last thing she remembered about that morning was covering the lamp-bug lantern and closing her eyes.

The elf-girl was angry, excited, and a little afraid when her mind returned to the present. “Now I have to go back! To get my dagger. To look into those newspapers. To find out what is going on in that side room with the cave goblins. To read more books, and . . .
Suddenly, a red wolf tarantula ran from under her bed and stopped in the center of her bedroom floor. “How odd,” she thought, as she realized that she was viewing it as through a tube – a tube of light. Without taking her eyes off the poisonous arachnid, she picked up one of her hardleather boots that was conveniently standing beside her bed. As she aimed to squash the little monster, the spider vanished in a puff of silvery flakes just as quickly as it had appeared,. The tubular, telescopic effect was gone too. A yowl came from under the bed. Midnight. A red wolf tarantula ran from under her bed and stopped in the center of her bedroom floor. Again. Reflexively, she aimed the boot, which she still held firmly, and let it fly. This time there was no tubular, circular-light effect and the spider did not disappear. It perished with a splat of green goo when the sole of the boot slammed down upon its bloated abdomen. “Ha!” her victorious cry was cut short by realization. “Great! That’s all I need now are hallucinations! Must be the lack of sleep. Oh, god, grant me sleep – sleep and peace . . .” An odd sense of calm enveloped her. It seemed as though a weight had been taken from her. She bent and looked under the bed. Midnight had his back arched and his eyes were wide. “Kit-kit, come here, it’s alright now.” Midnight looked her over as if deciding to run or stay. She looked good. His back came down; eyes softened; fur smoothed. He jumped to her and snuggled in her arms.
“Yes, Kit, I must go back. It’s a quest I must pursue – a vow to myself. It feels like a musick that is beginning to play within me. So many questions. So many possibilities. So many elusive answers. I will find them, Midnight, or my name’s not Hallah of E-realms!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Now the donkey is really kicking the dung heap, if you know what I mean.
What a way for a new beginning to begin .

Copyright © Len Snider
02-29-2016
ALL Rights Reserved

 

Hallah in her pensive place:


Hallah. I said seemingly ordinary, but by now you know she is far beyond ordinary.
Artist- Unknown, but Thanks for a beautiful and poignant portrait. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

© Copyright 2-9-2016
L.Snider, Gloryteller.com
All Rights Reserved

 

*
*
*
*
*
“Rhylie’s Chronicle” is
Copyright © by Len Snider,
Gloryteller. com,2-13-2010, and 10-15-15   

All Rights Reserved
*
*
*
Copyright and Trademark Attributions:
“Rhylie’s Chronicle” takes place in the unique dimension of RuneScape on the world of Gielenor.
RuneScape ® is a registered trademark of Jagex Limited. Copyright © 1999 – 2015 Andrew Gower.
All Non Player Characters (NPCs), names of places, names of objects, and story line from the RuneScape ” dimension” are the intellectual property and copyright of Jagex Limited. I simply used RuneScape’s physical attributes as a platform for this story. My thanks to Jagex for their colossal, epic game and for allowing me the use of the fantastic world which it inhabits. My characters and story line are purely fictitious, are not part of the game, and are strictly my own intellectual property.

About The Music Links Below

I don't own, and have no claim on, these music videos. The following are simply links inside my website pointing back to the original locations of the videos. The names of the creators of these videos are cited wherever possible, and only "embedding-enabled" selections are used.

The Basic Christian Library

"Mere Christianity" by C.S. Lewis. This is fundamentally what Christianity is all about.

"The Case for Christ" by Lee Strobel. Another converted atheist presents His compelling case for believing in Jesus.

"Left To Tell" by Imaculee Ilibagiza. This profound work is her own extraordinary story of endurance, discovery of the Holy Spirit, grace, healing, and an astonishingly compelling account of the necessity for forgiveness.

Compelling Christian Fiction Reads

"The Circle" 4-book series by Ted Dekker.
A man is the bridge between two very different worlds. Sound familiar? Can he save both? This T.D. work is brilliant in my book.

"This Present Darkness" and "Piercing the Darkness" by Frank E. Peretti. Tales of spiritual warfare from a unique perspective. Stirred a small controversy, but sold millions. What are we Christians afraid of? Hey, it's fiction!

Copyright Licensing

Creative Commons License
gloryteller.wordpress.com, and all proprietary work found here, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Write Me Here:

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 332 other followers

My Signature Story

"I AM NOT MY OWN" is the piece that inspired the building of this site. It is the story that this site, as well as my life, is centered around. This letter to you is the one i would most like for you to read out of all the ones you will find here, because it describes how profoundly the works of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit can change one human life.

For Your Reading Enjoyment, This Is Like A Park, Use It, Enjoy It, and Leave Everything Where You Found It.

The content here's not to be used,

But to only be read and perused.

If you copy it off,

My lawyer's not soft,

And your fortune is mine - you got sued!

Gloryteller :-)