Inevitable Lastingness - Part OneRating:
This Chapter is G,
Later parts will be Rated Higher.Content Notes: The life of Naerdiel, who would later become Nilec, the adopted daughter of the Camar'ian King. She who was the woman who seized the Dirian throne through her powers of prophecy, and who became ruthless enough to cause the man that loved her to break and fall to insanity. Shaped forever by her past, and twisted by the world she had to save, at one time, she was but a child. It's time that her story gets told.Elearn of Camar'a are adult around 200 to 250 years of age. Adolescence starts at 130 to 150. Anything before then is considered a child, if that Ellearn child has had a normal upbringing among their own kind.Warnings: NoneMain Character/s:
Naerdiel's first impacting memory.
--Cynteya Un ar hugain Spiritus (1:21 3250)
Scrambling up an old tree, apologies half coming through teeth as the girl in her velvet dress managed to grab hand holds in the knotted trunk. Up into the branches she watched the boys run by looking for her. The ancient tree moved its upper branches, leaves cascading over her and she laughed as the tree concealed her from sight. The little one was only 35, and the boys were older, angry at her for messing up their game. She felt at the pocket inside her velvet dress at the little metal figures of soldiers and horses she had stolen to play with. Her family did not have money for metal things, so she had to take them. But her parents would not be happy that her velvet dress had a tear in it, as it was the most expensive clothes she had. Naerdiel hugged the tree in thanks for hiding her, and brought out the metal figures to play war with. ( More Inside! )
Eventually the boys caught her; she could not stay hidden in the branches of trees forever. They came upon her kneeling by a tree, using the knots as platforms for the little metal archers, and men on horses were scattered on the ground.There were three separate painted metal armies, already some had fallen over, apparently dead. She was speaking in hushed tones, but in different voices as the largest of the metal figures of each color made out their tactics. The boys stopped and watched her, a single metal figure of no color falling in, and behind the yellow figures. Naerdiel looked up when a step was taken toward her, and she stood in a hurry knocking over some of the brown painted figures as her skirts swirled, and eyes widened. She had never really had friends; her family did not live near the capitol within the Mellimel’disiel. Her father was a ranger, a guard for the forest from the humans beyond. Her mother knit, and made clothes to sell in market. Both were young, still in that first stage of marital bliss with their only child.
The eldest boy stepped forward looking from her to the elaborate game she had set up to play. He looked back to the other boy who shrugged, and he gestured to the few that had fallen when she had spun to her feet. She looked back, and down to them before looking back to the boys, not understanding why they were not mad at her.
“Can we play with you?” one of them asked.
Naerdiel’s green eyes blinked at them, but she nodded with a wide smile, and she dropped back down onto her knees. Picking up the figures that had fallen, standing them back where they should have been. “This army thinks that it can attack when there is little light and ambush this one,” pointing from the yellow figures to the brown. “But they don’t know that this army is approaching too!”
Pointing to the green painted figures, and the younger boy’s head tilted, “What will they do?”
Naerdiel shifted looking between the three painted metal armies, and to the two boys who she hoped could become her friends. “They will wait. When the yellow are attacking the brown, the green will strike and take out both sides.”
There was surprised silence for a moment from both, but the older boy nodded, pointing up to the archers, “They should do cover fire when the yellow, and brown are fighting, make it harder to focus.”
The younger boy took up position by the brown figures, whilst the older boy without being told to do so, took up position by the yellow ones. Naerdiel smiled and she stayed where she was, in perfect position to use the green metal figures.
“The yellow army thinks they can attack with little light,” the older boy began to move his figures across the field sneaking up on the yellow figures.
The three moved their play pieces into position, advancing them, watching as the battle began, and figures started being knocked over. They laughed as their arms, and elbows bumped into each other as they reached to do things with the toys. They all gave their orders to their troops, and laughed more at the different voices made by each person for the horse riders, archers, and warriors.
As the last of the metal figures keeled over, Naerdiel clapped her hands giggling, “Now let’s switch!”
“I’ll be yellow this time, and then you can be green,” Naerdiel continued, and the eldest nodded with a grin, and they switched positions.
Between switching armies, and coming up with new strategies they played for many hours, putting their minds together to find new ways of defeating the other color groups of metal soldiers. But as the sun began to set through the trees, and shadows lengthened, Naerdiel nearly squeaked, and surged to her feet. She looked a little torn, eyes off toward home, and then back to the boys.
“I have to get home, but can we play again soon? I want to play war with you more!”
The Eldest boy nodded, standing to his feet, “I’m Thaldon, and this is my brother Locien. We will meet you here again tomorrow! But what is your name?”
Neardiel wiggled a little with glee, and then she stepped away, “I’m Neardiel.... I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”
“Neardiel?” The eldest boy’s brows furrowed and he made a bit of a face. That name...
“We will meet you tomorrow then.”
Thaldon grasped his younger brother’s hand, helping Locien up, and they began to pick up the figures as the girl ran, skipping over roots, and around trees back toward her home.
The younger sibling, Locien, had scrunched his brow, blonde bangs falling over,“Doesn’t her name mean...?”
Thaldon licked his lips, and put metal figures into his pockets, green eyes looking to his brother’s blue, “Lady of Sorrows.”
“Why would she be given a name like that? That’s not very nice.”
“I don’t know Locien, maybe because of what her parents saw of her destiny?”
There was only silence as they finished picking up the pieces, thinking about their own names, and their meanings from the glimpse their parents had been given into their webs of fate at birth. They began their walk home...Why would anyone call their daughter, Lady of Sorrows?