The Alphaville Herald

The Elf Maiden and the Drow Prince

by Pixeleen Mistral on 05/03/07 at 9:24 am

as told by Morgdah Graves

[This story was told around a campfire in Avilion. Magical Affairs correspondent Curious Rousselot was given permission by Morgdah Graves to bring this story to our readers - the Editrix]

Once, a long long time ago, there was an Above Ground Elvin family of the Sidhe. They lived in peace and harmony with the world around them, and knew many histories of the nearby lands. Their Son was quick and adventurous and their Daughter was soft spoken and quick with a word.

The Son longed for the open road, but his Sister knew the tales of what lay outside of their borders. She would talk him out of going off into unknown lands, but he would train with the swords and bow regardless.

They both came of age, for they were twins, and the Brother would not listen to the words of his sister any more. So she gathered her things and followed him as he made his way out toward the mountains.

They made camp in one of the large caves one night, for it was quite cold, and there was a storm brewing. The Brother took a torch and made his way to the back of the cave. The next thing the sister knew was that she heard a scream, and felt the pang of loss. She was distraught so much that she didn’t feel the needle bury itself into her skin.

She woke in shackles, being carried down, deep into the cave. She knew that the stories of the drow were true. She spent many years in the deep caverns, deeper than any human could travel.

She was a slave among them, even though she was much taller than even the tallest dark elf. The Matrons beat her, had other slaves… do things… to her. The Men would take their time to harm her and make sure she knew she was all but lost.

However, over the course of the years, she had actually made … somewhat friends… with one of the younger women. This young drow woman made the Girl tell tales about the above ground. That was their idea of leniency. She didn’t want to tell the tales anymore, because they always led to the death of her brother, and her capture, and her pure sadness and pain.

One day, the young drow, in a fit of anger because the stories stopped, finally snapped and if the girl did not want to, the drow wouldn’t beat her, but nag incessantly. She grabbed the Drow Matron’s dagger and stabbed the Elf girl.

The girl, having learned a small amount of magic, made it look as if she were dead. The Drow girl actually shed a tear for what she had lost then had the slaves take the Elf body to the Underdark river and toss her in.

The river drew the young elf out and through the Underdark, and deposited her on the shores of a large lake. The magic wore off after almost an entire day of travel, and she drug herself out of the water and into the woods. She found herself in the orchard of a Young human king. He had his best surgeons heal her wounds and tend her needs. She was with them for more than 2 months.

She came into the courtyard, and there, by the King was a Drow male. She screamed and grabbed at the pitiful dagger at her side She charged the Drow and was to kill him if it meant her own life.

But the king stood between the two. The dagger fell from her shaking hands and she dropped to the ground weeping with pain. ” The Drow is … my son… “, the king said, “I raised him when I found him on my travels. He was left in the sun to die, to be taken by the Humans or Elves, to be killed …. by his own mother. His name is Sorel, He will not harm you on my honor, he will not, on his own honor”.

A drow that is not a drow? It cannot be…

She had horrible nightmares that night, of the pain, the torture. She woke that morning and packed her things. She had only a few things, but they were hers. As she made her way to the gate, the young king made his way to her. “I will not stop you, Young Sidhe…. I will give you a map to your homeland, your own woods…”.

She took the map and thanked the king, but didn’t know what to do about the drow. She traveled by foot through the land of the King, through woods and prairie. Staying very far away from the foothills of the mountains. The road was lonely, and frightening to her. Which she had good cause to fear.

She stayed one night in a small glade, unaware that there was a pack of wild dogs following her, waiting to kill her for food. She fell asleep by her small fire, but was woken by a silent hand going over her mouth…

“shhhhhhh…” came the warning, “the wolves have your scent. they are coming. here. take this sword…”

A very thin longsword found its way into her hands, just as the growling began. These were not intelligent wolves but the dumb animals who hunted by instinct. She could not see in the darkness very well, but the person who gave her the sword went back to back with her.

The pack was not very large, only 4 wolves. But the wolves themselves were 4 feet tall at the shoulder. The wolves attacked, and the Elf and her rescuer fought but one wolf, the last wolf she could see, lunged and sank its fangs into the throat of the Rescuer. She sunk the sword into the back of the beast.

In the rising sun she saw what had happened…

The wolf she killed, she rolled off the body of Sorel. He gave his life to save hers. She knelt by the body, and cried. She carried the body back to the young king.

The king held a grand funeral where hundreds were in presence. Sorel was loved by the kingdom. She knew her folly at judging before she knew the whole story.

She sent word to her family in the Elven lands, telling them the entire story. She opted to stay with the King, and help him when ever he needed. She grew to see the young king grow old, and his sons take over the kingdom, and at that time, decided to return to her own family.

She carried the sword that Sorel had slipped into her hand at all times to remind her that the folly was hers.

I lived in peace in my parent’s home, and gained titles around the land…

But I will never forget what happened to me, or to my brother…

I still carry the sword, but I have never drawn it since that day with the wolves. This is why I do not judge a drow above the ground.