Role

Chapter 1

Lord Danellan had always been someone that she had looked up to. Someone that
she had always wanted to impress and perhaps feelings of love had always been
in the back of her mind since she could remember. What was happening to her
now seemed like a nightmare. She had never dreamed she would see such an
emotion on his face, in his eyes and directed at her.
His eyes seemed to burn
with a fire that she had never seen and his face almost contorted in a snarl
that made him look terrifying and hideous to her. He spoke in a shaking and
yet eerily calm voice to her. "I find myself struggling to contain my
rage. I cannot start to think about what was in you mind when you decided to
aid one so vile. Such an act cannot be forgiven, should not be forgiven. I do
not need to tell you the history of those vile beings nor do I need to tell
you the history of your own people and the relationship we have with them.
You should know better."
She bowed her head and said sheepishly, "I only
sought to aid something in need. I only wanted to help it."
The elven Lord
slammed his fist down on the desk making her start and step back in fear as
he shouted, "And what of us! What of your own kind?! Shall we not be so
blessed as to have you consideration?!"
"I..I did not think it had any effect
on us. I did not know they would do that." she said.
"Any aid you give to them makes them stronger, which in turn, makes us weaker.
Now our blood soaks the ground...and for what?" Danellan said in a restrained
but still trembling voice.


She could not think of any response. Lord Danellan sat at his desk. His face
had turned from the snarl of rage to his usual stoic expression and he looked
at her with cold eyes saying, "There are penalties beyond what we can do, but
I shall pronounce the judgement that we have chosen for you. You are to leave
this place and never come back under pain of death. You have lost the
privilege of carrying the name Vorondil and shall be know by us hence forth
as Huta-Fea." He rose from his desk again," Only one thing comforts me from
this. That your mother and father's death has kept them from knowing what you
have done."


She does not remember that day of leaving Darsylon or of walking the Inn
where she would eventually stay the night. She awoke the next day with weight
of the past days events still fresh in her mind like a wound that had had
time to fester. She felt something different though. Something off, other
worldly. She felt unclean and stricken down and it was to be a feeling that
never went away, a wound in her soul that never healed completely.