Thyagi Tale

My first memories are those in the arms of my mother. She was Priestess of an enclave of Black Elves, and she had a heart of pure honey. She taught me much of her Craft while I was quite young, and gave me power at an early age.

She told me that things were changing in our city beneath the ground. She said that the Black Elves were diffusing in part, diluting in what she called 'the pure blood'. I understood this little, since it seemed that the others of my age looked roughly as I did.

She also told me (and I did not connect the two items until much later) that my father was a Demon. This did not seem to bother her. Actually she had a strange pride about it that I would not understand for many years. She thought that the true Black Elves were Demon-spawn, it seems, and realized then what I would soon discover - that the values of our enclave were changing in ways which would not benefit me.

As I grew I discovered that my tastes did vary tremendously from others. I was drawn to the darkest, most terrifying places in our caves. I found them peaceful, a place to relax. I did not see the value of power. At least I did not have the same attitude about it as the others. Too often I saw it abused and my predilections led to my isolation from the community.

My mother had seen what I could not, and when the Council finally decided that it was time for 'the spawn', as they called me, to be cast out, I was well prepared. While still quite young for an elf I set out to explore the world.

I must say one more thing about the people of my birth. I hold no grudge against them. They did what they thought was necessary. By the time I was asked to leave I had a few friends among the enclave Elders. The Wizards, in their breadth of vision, took a liking to me. I was as grateful for their respect as for my mother's love. That these were not shared by the balance of my kin I have learned to accept as natural.

I had heard rumors of the surface cities. As a child I had occasionally ventured out into the starlight, disobeying the laws of the enclave, too curious to resist. Though I had never seen the star which those above called 'sun', I had been taught that it was evil, malevolent, and that it wished the destruction of all the things we valued. Later I was to learn much differently.

Venturing out into the open air, I was struck by a sense of freedom and insecurity. The rock of old which I had come to know and love was strangely absent, and while I revelled in the vast expanse of my nightly travels, I also felt as if floating without solid foundation. My sense of balance, of life, had been formed in the close quarters of granite, shale and limestone. It would be years before I would leave this feeling behind.

Travelling by night, I sought the shelter of caves and trees during the day, largely blinded. This lasted several days. It took weeks for my day-vision to improve. Only my magick and blade kept me safe from the few predators that dared to challenge me in my wanderings.

I found, once I began to descend into the valleys, that I enjoyed the forests very much; that their closeness and shadow reminded me much of home. Occasionally I would hear the voices of the trees. I listened carefully and and slowly began to respond. It was in this way that I made my journey into a great village of forest elves. I had never been told of my surface kindred, yet I was guided to their dwellings by the trees in their wisdom.

My first encounter with the Woodlings was, I'm happy to say, a warm one. If I had wandered in on another day or by some other route, I might have met with a grizzly end. I was eating what was my first meal during a Summer's sunset. Satisfied as I was with the departure of Sun and the coming of night, I began to sing...

Where I was born we have no 'tradition'. We made up our songs and stories as we lived our lives, and a repetition was considered a peculiarity, lacking in genuineness, spontaneity. Given this, and my love for the stars, I began to sing a love song to them. Leaning against a friendly oak, I beckoned them to join me at my small camp; to come and play with me.

It was this, she told me later, that was to enchant Melyalda ever afterward of my presence - the memory of my lilting love song to the stars. She heard my song and followed it to the stand of trees under which I'd camped. Thinking me to be simply a traveller of a distant village, she joined in, perfecting a harmony quite easily as she approached. Yet when she first saw me she discovered otherwise. Even this did not stop her singing however, and any alarm I might have felt in her approach was brushed aside by the beauty of her trust in the bold enjoyment of our meeting.

We talked thereafter in broken speech. It seems that the language of Woodlings and that of trees is quite similar, so I had little trouble finding a translation. While trees indeed take much longer in their expression, (having the time and relaxation of life that all elves do not share), it was long ago that Woodlings learned much of this speech directly from them, only afterwards preferring to study of each other. The great Woodling Wizards take their instruction directly from the Elders of the forest, and this more than anything else preserved my life as I entered their company.

Melyalda was a renegade, at that time a youngster, and preferred the deep forest dark to the sometimes noisy elven village. She has a way of coming to know people which escapes many of her kin, and, thanks largely to her, I was spared the ignobility of approaching some of the others of her clan.

We spoke for many hours, sharing of our life stories. We had each had little accurate concept of the other's place of origin, and Melyalda's wisdom in trusting me over the stories which she'd heard was remarkable. She bade me come to her village and called to her mother, who, when prepared by Melyalda's explanation, was quite willing to have my company. I found them to be quite loving and kind, and soon felt that I was indeed among family.

This requires explanation. In my home of caves and darkness, the children of the enclave were generally nurtured by all of the adults. Normally a child did not develop such a strong bond to one's parent as I had to my mother. Perhaps my 'alien' origins and my mother's pride sowed the seeds of my exclusion while binding me to her side, I cannot be sure. Yet I had also been taught by those in the enclave that 'blood' is not a thing of the veins, but of the Heart; that family does not necessarily include those to whom one is related by birth, but is a thing of trust, openness and shared values. In my arrival to the elven village I found the warmth and acceptance which I had lost in my childhood.

My arrival did not go unnoticed by the others of the village, however. There were countless confrontations and antagonisms expressed toward my kind. It seems a sad element of life that pain must run so deep as to obscure vision, yet I was eventually made unwelcome even in my new forest home. I was not cast out, yet many made it clear that they did not trust a 'morgrod' such as myself and that they would have little to do with me.

This again was in direct opposition to the words of their Wizards. I knew the treespeech as well as did some of the Adepts of their Art, and my relationship with the elven mages was a close one from the beginning. Our ways were quite different in expression yet arose from the same root. I took to learning much about woodly lore and magick before leaving.

After satisfying myself with my terms of departure, I again took to solitary travels.

Now to humans what I am about to say may sound shocking, especially to those who know nothing of elves. Yet by this time I was perhaps 200 years old. This, to me, was what elves call a 'young adult', and my time in the wood had been a mere hundred years or so.

Indeed it is quite a long period of time as humans are concerned, but to me it seemed a short stay, given the joys we experienced and the warm laughter we shared.

Since that time I have come to learn the ways of humans and something (though little) of other types of beings. I have found that the elves I meet on the trail are sometimes less hospitable to me than those of the wood, perhaps owing to the horrible tales which originate in the minds of men and a lack of arboreal security.

In telling of my past I hope to quell, so to speak, the misunderstandings which inevitably arise as a result of my residence. My people are seldom understood and I am coming to learn that those elves of wood and cave, indeed even elves and humans, are much alike. I have the pleasure of calling many humans my kin and rejoicing in many friendships within the realms that I have explored.

There is so much more that I cannot say for lack of the proper words that I would prefer to leave simply this message here as a token of my respect and a mark of effort to resolves the difficulties before they begin. I'm starting to see such misunderstandings already and hope that this will go some distance in heading them off.

If you would enjoy a sharing of life and stories, you are more than welcome in my home and company. While I do find stone, tree and star my favorite story-tellers, I also rejoice in the company of people who are not quick to judge and have the time and space for a pleasant exchange.

So ends a Thyagi Tale (9210.20 era vulgara) By my Word, Thyagi Morgoth NagaSiva.

May your journeys be fruitful and entertaining.