The window silently opened into the dark street, its well-oiled hinges and smoothed edges giving no betrayal as a slim, dark clad figure slipped over the sill and into the unlit room. For a long moment the figure stood motionless at the window, gauging the possibility of pursuit, before closing it just as quietly as it had opened. A rough curtain of cured skin was pulled across the frame and the figure finally began to relax. A candle was lit, the small and flickering light revealing the room as a bedchamber of moderate size, roughly furnished with modest touches of the kind produced more by willing hands than from the wares of any shopkeeper. Aside from the window it boasted a single door, securely bolted from the inside, the bed, a number of chests of varying sizes, and a low table with a stool before it, a mirror suspended on the wall behind it, and the clutter of a female dresser on its surface.

The figure quickly stripped off the dark grey cloak and hood and dropped them on the bed before sweeping the contents of the table to one side and emptying a small pouch onto its surface, then settling onto the stool to examine its contents. In the light of the candle the face seemed to float eerily in the mirror, a curious face with strangely pale skin, high cheekbones and long straight hair of the purest silvery-white. A female face also, one with wide eyes of burnished amber that flickered here and there over the small pile of treasure laid before her. As a pleased smile warmed her features she lifted a slim hand to her brow and swept her hair back behind an ear that curved with delicacy to an elegant point.

Abruptly the she-elf swept the trinkets back into the bag and crossed to one of the chests. She opened it and re-arranged the contents until it was possible to open a hidden door in the bottom where she secreted the bag; moving things back to cover the hiding place before closing the chest once more. Her task completed she stripped off the grey leggings and tunic she had been wearing in order to blend with the cloak and dressed in a simple dress of pale yellow. Pulling her hair back to reveal both ears she tied it securely at the base of her neck with a length of yellow ribbon and so, flaunting her elven heritage as though an open challenge, she unbolted the door and stepped through.

The door opened into a short passageway from which several doors opened. The one at the far end led into the main part of the house and it was to this one that she made her way. As the door swung open she saw both her guardians sitting on their chairs by the fireside. A tall cupboard blocked her view of the seats on the other side of the fire but the near-panicked gaze that her stepmother threw her way announced clearly that some unwelcome guest was sat there. For a moment her mind froze. Was it possible that she had been followed? Could it be the Captain of the town guards, who had made it clear on his last visit that his patience was wearing thin? There being only one way to find out, she stepped further into the room and then stopped in her tracks, her usually controlled features revealing her surprise. Two figures were revealed, one sitting calmly in a chair while the other stood stiffly by the fireplace leaning on a long bow. Both had the same silver-white hair, amber eyes, and unmistakable facial features that she had seen in her mirror every day but had never before seen in flesh and blood. A feeling of panic gripped her and she seriously considered fleeing back to her room before her natural curiosity immediately won her over and she slowly moved towards the fireplace.

“This is our daughter, Donna,” her stepmother said quietly.
“No-one calls her that, of course,” interjected her stepfather quickly. “They call her Iskai’mithe. The pale mouse.”
“Ya one he sina essa?” snapped the standing one, the lilting flow of the words and the anger of his tone in obvious contrast. “Sina n’naa ehdel essa!”
The second one turned slightly and placed his hand on his companion’s wrist. “Lye quena apanonar lammen sinome,” he said firmly. Turning back he continued with a smile, “We apologise, my friend here forgets sometimes that not everyone speaks our language. How do you choose to be called?”
“I prefer Iskai’mithe.” As though speaking had finally broken the spell she finished crossing the room and settled onto a low stool directly in front of the fire.
“Well and good then, Iskai’mithe. I am called Ellar Lairegil and my companion here with the bow is known as Vaien Araukaraama. We are Mith’Quessir, Grey Elves in the tongue of men, and we were travelling these lands when we heard word of your presence here. It is most unusual to find one of our kin this deep in the lands of men and even more so to find one living with them. Your guardians have explained that they found you as a small child and have cared for you until now. We owe them a great debt for this service. May I ask how you came by the name Iskai’mithe?”
“The local schoolteacher spoke your elvish,” replied the stepfather abruptly. “He called himself Sha’Quessir like it was some great title and he was always running off to strange places when he was younger. Often said that if he were not quite so frail he would have taken her back to her people himself.”
“Sha’Quessir means friend of the people and it is indeed a great title, and quite unusual among the race of men,” Ellar mused. “He lives still?”
“He died in the fall, two years past.” It was Iskai’mithe who spoke. “He used to call me his pale mouse and I liked the sound of it, and of the other things he would say. He tried to teach me more elvish words but I was never an attentive pupil.” She smiled slightly as she spoke, perhaps remembering the only man in the town who had shown kindness to the outcast child.
“Well, that is perhaps something we can remedy,” Ellar said. “We have come to ask if you would like to journey with us. We are returning to the lands of the Mith’Quessir and would consider it an honour to have you travel with us. We have discussed the matter with your guardians and they agree if you are willing.”
“Aye, get her out before the guards catch her…again. We can’t house a thief for ever!”
Vaien tensed at the stepfather’s muttered words and a snarl appeared on his face. He seemed ready to spring while the man recoiled in obvious fear, but once again Ellar stopped it with a word. “Faarea!” He turned back to Iskai’mithe. “I believe it would be better if you came with us, but the choice is yours.”

Iskai’mithe looked for a moment at man and woman who had been the only parents she had known since childhood. It was true they had tried to be kind, to love her in their own way, but always they had been alien to her and she to them. She saw a well-filled moneybag on the floor by her father’s feet and realised that the price had already been settled, in their minds she was already gone and a welcome relief at that. Silently she rose to her feet and returned to her room. It did not take long to collect her few belongings. She re-dressed in the grey leggings and tunic with the cloak over the top. A small travelling bag took the few other clothes that she considered worth keeping, along with the contents of the hidden compartment in the chest. Finally a surprising array of small weapons and other trinkets disappeared about her person and she was ready.

Farewells were abrupt and far from heart-felt. Both sides were glad for this sudden solution to a problem that they had known would only grow worse and the lack of true sentiment only made them feel guilty. So it was that a scant few minutes later Iskai’mithe found herself walking through the town, flanked by the two elves. Not long afterwards they were heading into the woods beyond and this part of her life was already a thing of the fading and distant past. The next part would be upon her soon enough.

• I second that Joiwind 05:16:19 pm, 1/18/3 (0)
• Re: Iskai'mithe - background The Grammarian 04:28:30 pm, 1/18/3 (0)