Call and Answer

(OOC: This is not my official self-introduction, per se. But, over the course of several parts, I hope to cover a good background story within the context of making the trip to Tel'Ruid.)

An elven village. The idea took immediate root in the young elf's imagination. No more, the alienation of this human society with its cultured ignorance of beauty and sadness. No more, the smithy without art; the swordsman without craft. No more, the stares and whispers he endured with a polite deprecation over his heritage. Yes, Aulos would heed the stranger's advice and follow that western road. And he would find this village of the Glade.

It was not uncommon for him to have such contact with strangers. From his earliest days of employment with the local woodworker, much was traded with Minoc to the west or Vesper to the south. But this merchant was different. Hers was a softer, more patient manner; one borne of wisdom and understanding. The old carpenter had picked up on it right away and though he continued his bartering without pause, it was obvious a point of perturbance for him. For Aulos, it was a point of familiarity. The woman was half-elven. (His experience among his kind was limited, but there was something innate about this conclusion in his heart.)

Putting aside nostalgia and contemplation of his past for the time being, his thoughts became focused on his goal. He would prepare himself for the journey tonight, and leave first thing in the morning. It would be a long trip, but it was likely that he could convince the old man to give him a horse as a gesture of goodwill. As a token in advance, he carved a special pipe as his own gesture of thanks to his employer. The old man had always admired Aulos' detail, although at times he didn't seem to understand it. But, he did appreciate a good pipe, even when the tobacco didn't suit him.

For himself, the young elf packed a pipe of his own. But this was not for smoking, although he had a simpler version of that type as well. No, this pipe was his fife, and it was his most prized possession after his carving tools. Later, he would drift off to sleep with elven melodies, as yet unknown to him, wafting through his subconscious. This was Tel'Ruid's call to him, as it had been for years. Finally, it would haunt him no more.

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> (OOC: This is not my official self-introduction, per se. But, over the course of several parts, I hope to cover a good background story within the context of making the trip to Tel'Ruid.) > An elven village. The idea took immediate root in the young elf's imagination. No more, the alienation of this human society with its cultured ignorance of beauty and sadness. No more, the smithy without art; the swordsman without craft. No more, the stares and whispers he endured with a polite deprecation over his heritage. Yes, Aulos would heed the stranger's advice and follow that western road. And he would find this village of the Glade. > It was not uncommon for him to have such contact with strangers. From his earliest days of employment with the local woodworker, much was traded with Minoc to the west or Vesper to the south. But this merchant was different. Hers was a softer, more patient manner; one borne of wisdom and understanding. The old carpenter had picked up on it right away and though he continued his bartering without pause, it was obvious a point of perturbance for him. For Aulos, it was a point of familiarity. The woman was half-elven. (His experience among his kind was limited, but there was something innate about this conclusion in his heart.) > Putting aside nostalgia and contemplation of his past for the time being, his thoughts became focused on his goal. He would prepare himself for the journey tonight, and leave first thing in the morning. It would be a long trip, but it was likely that he could convince the old man to give him a horse as a gesture of goodwill. As a token in advance, he carved a special pipe as his own gesture of thanks to his employer. The old man had always admired Aulos' detail, although at times he didn't seem to understand it. But, he did appreciate a good pipe, even when the tobacco didn't suit him. > For himself, the young elf packed a pipe of his own. But this was not for smoking, although he had a simpler version of that type as well. No, this pipe was his fife, and it was his most prized possession after his carving tools. Later, he would drift off to sleep with elven melodies, as yet unknown to him, wafting through his subconscious. This was Tel'Ruid's call to him, as it had been for years. Finally, it would haunt him no more.
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