Foot Two * Lithe wiry build * Intense blue eyes * Blond Hair
for his bloodline of pure Elf, Meekel Silver-tone stood 74". His
own ancestry a long one. Their surname had been chosen for the ability
that ran down their line. They were healers through the silver tones in
pure notes they could sing. Blue eyed and a lean build, Meekel was
always on the move. He wore the soft leathers of brown and green hues.
He was adept in speed and tracking. Skills second only to his song.
Other races would find him evasive, keeping to his own kind or his
ownself in observing. He was one to help others where he could but
cautious of overstepping those fragile boundaries between Humans and
Elves. Their mindframe was different from their Human counterparts. In
essence, they didn't make mistakes. They made choices and either they
were accomplished or they weren't. One track minded when set to a task
or decision, they rarely failed. The Elves found out early that few
Humans held to their given word in promise, unlike themselves. This was
where the greatest chasm existed between the two races. Humans made
mistakes. They were more ruled by their emotions than their minds in
Their clan of Silver
Elves, cousins of the Sylvan Elves, had both been upon the
rich lands of Heathfield since the castle was built, hailing originally
from lands of Heyatheron, south across the ocean. It was of the Sylvan Elves
that the Human, Andrew Barrett, had chosen a princess bride and
their offspring ruled in the generations to come. It was why they came
here. They still thrived as a clan, more hidden, upon these lands and
walked with some of those of Human bred. Their aging process so
much slower, time meant little in this passing. It is said they are
immortal but can die at will or in battle with a fatal enough blow.
For one of them to marry a human, had to be something extremely special
and rare. Meekel had his own story to tell in time.
He had been one
of those to choose a Human bride. Her Druid dark eyes had drawn him and
his heart eventually even if such became a clash with his own people.
They had married secretively and left these lands to avoid any rifts.
Fate had not been kind in that year to come as Kathy felt regrets in his
separation from his people. She felt the cause and took it hard. Hard
enough for him to find her gone after their son was born. The note left
had been heart wrenching. Regardless of her penned words he set out in
search of her. He needed to convince her. In the many years that
followed he came up empty handed. So many times he tracked a new lead,
so many times to only be disappointed. So many lands he had covered, all
four corners of the Earth in all this time until one day as he sat on a
ledge high above a valley he felt the call. The call was to come home
finally to his people once more. He headed out and arrived some months
later. He never found his Kathy but in time his son found him. Two parts
to a pendant she wore finally fitted together again.
Once Heathfield lands
were reached, he was hesitant, not knowing if his people would accept or
reject him for the past. His thoughts were on his clan and all that had
transpired so many years ago as he sat along the water's edge of a
stream that ran down from the mountains of these mystical lands.
The woods of the forest held a deafening silence at first, a full moon
to shine its pale light this night in a dance with the shadows. He
watched and felt these shadows, sensing each colored leaf to turn and
fall quietly. Each being of the night, within his perimeter, walking the
forest or snuggled up in safety was felt. He could hear the forest
breathe both life and death, held in such a precarious balance. He
held no fears even as a bear passed by close to where he sat. There was
a respect between the two and a brief moment of acknowledgment before
the bear continued on. He knew then what he needed to do. It was time.
He had just been waiting for that right moment.
Swiftly he moved
through these woods to find the highest point, there to the top of this
mountain. No sound was made more than the wisp of a breeze in his
passing. He would be within range that his own kind could feel his
presence. Would they recognize him? To the edge of a ledge he stepped,
standing motionless as he reached out with that inner ability. One
silvery laced tone to slip from his lips as he let out a deep breath.
Like a nightingale it echoed down the valley below, through forest and
dale in a pure octave. It was a call to his people as one lost soul
would do in a final measure of hope. He waited to see if he would be
welcomed. He waited to hear a returned call. Moments later there
was a chorus of pure octaves to echo in a musical blend. He was home.