This mornings conversation about elf loafs and subsequent art by the awesome @teechew absolutely made my morning a thousand times better after everything that’s happened. Thank you so much Mags ♥
“You were the first friend I made in the Sunguard. You were so nice, and so understanding. You were the first friend I lost as well, because you weren’t understanding enough.”
“Please. Stop letting people step all over you. You’re a healer, not a door mat.”
And from Khal:
“Do not let Samiel fall in love with an immortal. Dragons have long memories, and he will remain in the mind of a dragon long, long after his remains have turned to dust. I would not have my own kin hurt like that.”
“So. It’s been a few weeks since your decision. What have you been doing with your time?”
“Next to nothing.” Aestus sat the coffee cup down on the arm of the chair he sat on in Adrians office and gave the doctor a one shouldered, unapologetic shrug. “I go to the forge, I do my job, I go home, I loaf on the couch with my wolf and dog. Read. Love on my girlfriend. Make sure to rub her shoulders and feet after her trials.” He raised both hands and wiggled his fingers, smiling lightly. “She seems to be doing enough work with the Sunguard for the both of us.”
“Your fellow Sunspear no longer hold any interest for you?” As Always Adrians tone was detached and professional, his face a mask of polite interest.
“I wouldn’t say that, honestly. But let’s look at the facts.” He ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke. “Not one of them has contacted me for anything. No one’s asked where I’ve been, how I’ve been doing, where I’ve gotten to. Only Tyleril really cares but Tyleril cares about nearly everyone.”
“And have you made any attempt to contact -them-?”
“Not a one. Which I know,” He pointed a finger at the water priest. “Gives me zero reason to bitch about people not reaching out to me when I can’t be buggered to reach out to them.But here’s the thing….no one cares.” He held up both hands in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “Everyone is involved in their own little world with their own little, or big, problems and events and life changes and friends. They’re in their bubbles and they’re content and see no reason to reach outside of it. That’s not to say that I’m not as well. Right now my ‘happy bubble’ is Veli, our pack of canines and my mother. I know that I should try to extend out the bubble and include other people in it, but…”
He sat back in his chair and tossed one hand into the air. “I haven’t felt…compelled to do anything lately. I used to be this….systematic soldier. Get up in the morning, do an hours work out, run the track, polish my armor, sharpen my sword, say my prayers and now.. now sometimes I don’t even want to get out of bed in the morning. The nights Velianor doesn’t stay over I don’t sleep. I lay there awake for hours. I’m tired but I don’t sleep.”
“Have you considered perhaps finding a new venue that would interest you? All of these symptoms seem to have manifested since you left the Crusade, which I know couldn’t have been an easy choice.”
“No.”
“Is that because you don’t want to?”
“I don’t see the point.”
The silence moved between them for a solid minute, Aestus moving his eyes to rest down at the top of one of his hands. He knew Adrian didn’t like eye contact and it was an effort, as usual, to avert his gaze when he was so used to it.
“Aestus. What you’re describing- the loss of interest, finding no pleasure in activities you once enjoyed. The restless tossing and constant sleeping. The drastic changes in mood. These are all signs of depression.”
“I can’t be depressed.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Why not?”
“Because I have nothing to be depressed about! I have a great life! I have a wonderful, supportive, caring girlfriend. I have an equally amazing mother that’s finally free of my father. I have a whole pack full of wolves to smother me on my couch. I’ve got the Sunguard. I have no reason to be depressed.”
“Depression doesn’t need a reason, Aestus. You already suffer from P-T-S-D and it’s not uncommon for P-T-S-D survivors to suffer depression.”
“I can’t. Be. Depressed.”
“And I ask again, why not?”
“Because I don’t want another thing wrong with me!”
“…there’s nothing wrong with you, Aestus.” Adrians tone was softer, but still detached, professional. The paladin couldn’t know or understand the roil of disappointment, of anger and fear that come with his words and had washed over the empath.
“I’m pretty sure my medication would disagree.”
“There. Is nothing. Wrong. With you. Aestus.” Adrians words were deliberately broken and empathized. “You did not chose what is happening to you. You cannot fix what isn’t broken. Taking a tea or a pill or an herb to help you have a normal life isn’t cheating or giving in. It’s not a sign of weakness. You already know what it is like trying to ‘handle’ your P-T-S-D without help and you’ve seen a significant change since you started getting it. This is no different.”
The paladin did not look at Adrian. His jaw was set, body tense, eyes narrowed and intensely focused on the clenched fist that rested on the arm chair. Adrian had grown used to this body language and knew the paladin was internalizing, arguing and counter arguing what had been said with himself.
“We don’t have to do anything about it right now, Aestus. Go home. Think on it. Talk to a few people you can trust. I’m sure Velianor deserves to know.” ‘If she doesn’t already’. “I’m not going to tell you you’ve got people who will support you about this because you already know that. Come back in a few days with your answer and we’ll work from there.”
“….alright.”
“And Aestus.”
The paladin turned from where he had half risen out of his seat, expectant.
“Try. Even if you see no point. Try anyway.” Adrian did not specify anything. He didn’t need to. They both knew it.
The water priest waited until Aestus had fully left his office to take his glasses off and set them aside, rubbing at his temples. What was it about those that channeled a soothing and mending power like the Light that left a person so broken?
“Every Knight, they say, is brave. But not every Knight can shine like the sunlight and make you feel like it was alright to be weak, just once. I found the sound of him in armor soothing and when he listened his eyes were gentle like the surface of a calm pond. Armor tarnished, and muscled weary, yet still he stood tall, listening for the Light to order him. Our story began like every other- it all began with…”
I was surprised someone admitted to reading my books. I’ve wrote them for centuries now. They come and go in popularity and what people like. I was happy that they provided you with something while you and Brutalis were in Northrend. I share a magical bond with my animals and we’re connected on a level I have never been with another elf. But I cannot share my years with them. When they’re gone, I write. I write, and write and write because sappy romance novels make it better. Not by much. It eases the pain to write something happy and sweet. I used to just sell them for money but people enjoyed them. Not many people know where my novels come from there but knowing that I helped bring someone else some solace helps ease the pain more.
I wrote these a while back when me Ty, and Windsong were in Northrend. The original scripts, written in my notebooks are on top for your enjoyment but you’ll find the polished soon-to-be-published books in the box as well.
-S. Brightarrow
And the novels themselves were beneath the original script.
Write a diary entry for your character, dated 10 years in the future (a tale of ‘what if’s’)
The house was still as the night grew late save for the scratching of his pen on the journal entry page. The passing suggestions Adriannal had given him all those years ago to keep a journal entry for reflection day to day had somehow carried on through the years and now, as before, he was glad he listened to his brother-in-law’s advice. He could flip through the pages and see what life was before in word and picture, and even now he could feel the thickness between sheets where a picture of Velianor and their newly born twin boys was fastened with the date of their birth.
Hati and Skol slept peacefully in their bedroom. Behind him through the open door of the study he could hear Velianor moving through the hall, and her hands that slipped onto his shoulders was a welcome source of warmth as she entered into the room and stood behind him. “It’s getting late.”
“I’ll be there soon.” He lifted a hand and slid it through her red and old hair that she was letting grow out again. “I just need to finish this or my conscience with the voice of your brother will yell at me.”
“That’s a terrifying thought. I’ll leave you two alone.” They exchanged a brief but sweet kiss before she moved out of the study and left him to his work. Smiling he turned back to his task and continued.
Today Hati came to me frustrated and in near crocolisk tears with a tale that his brother had pushed him into the frog pond outside of the gardens. Skol, of course, denied it, but Skol like his mother has always been a mischievous one. Later he confessed to his mother he did push Hati into the lake so he could ‘see the frogs better and kiss one so he could find a princess’. Velianor told him the legend doesn’t exactly work that way while laughing. Great discipline there, love.
The boys are growing so fast. They’re perfect mixes of myself and their mother, and more and more each day I see parts of us in how they speak, how they act, their personalities and characters. Hati, so much more like me, but still with a rebellious streak he could only have gotten from Velianor. Skol, so much more like his mother, but with my distaste for lies and deceit. The cycle of sun and moon goes ever on within them.
Even now looking out into the dark grounds of the Novastorm gardens I find it hard to believe that life for both myself and my wolf of a wife has come this far. I still find it had to believe that my name is now ‘Battlevalor Novastorm’ (perhaps some husbands take issue with taking the wife’s last name for himself, though I never did. Besides, it’s alphabetical and both the twins approved). Adriannal and I will never be Best friends forever, but I cannot deny the love and care he gives the boys, his sister, and the irreplaceable and hard to repay help he gave me all those years ago. He pushed aside his own demons to help me with mine. I wonder if he knows what wonders he really did.
Velianor has grown into Lady Novastorm and her people love her. I couldn’t be more proud.
Keep an eye out on Viridians health. She’s getting a bit slower in her age. She still has many years to go, but the many hours she prefers laying in the sun and taking a nice slow walk around the fog pond is telling.
Tell your wife you love her as often as you can. The years that you’ve been together have been both wonderful and trying, but I couldn’t ask for a better lover, partner, and friend.
He let the ink dry before he closed the book and stood with it in hand to slide back into its place in the bookshelf. A brief puff of breath snuffed out the candle and he made his way towards his and Velianors bedroom, smiling at the sound of the twins talking to each other in their sleep behind the closed door of their bedroom as he passed it.
The final product was the result of days of labor. I don’t know if Aestus feels the same was I do when a Lightforged weapon is done. Normally it felt invigorating, pleasant, leaving a lingering sense of happiness and peace. But a Lightforged weapon is different. It drains me and through me the Light. Channeled for hours, prayers and hymnals, blessings, and whispered pleas sung to it. It was an art, a labor of love. Elven blades get stronger with each remaking. But Lightforged blades made by elven hands are truly unique.
Ethalarian Dawnstalker, also known in easier times as Shahin was to be the recipient of this blade. Unlike Thanidiel Highdawn’s blade the Light did not fill me with the same presence I needed to fit the blade perfectly to him. One might wonder if Lightwielders are truly so different that I would need another. The short and simple answer is yes. With any magical weapon that’s made for someone in mind you need to know them. How they fight, how they are, what sort of magic do they normally wield? The more you know the better you can craft the weapon to become an extension of the man.
Ethalarian Dawnstalker is a man who prides himself on his skill with a broadsword. He moves fast so he can strike first, get past their defenses before they can attempt to attack. Precision and swift moves chained together with fluid and dexterous strokes speak of someone who has fought giants and won. He does not have to be faster or stronger, but rather more clever. Like many Blood knights he seems to be full of anger and rage and his magic is an example of that.
It makes me wonder what they have gone through to constantly carry that anger inside of them. Glowing coals ready to become searing flames. But I digress.
The metals I use to make the blades I will keep to myself and those of my forges who have earned the knowledge. The blade is going to be slightly heavier than what he is used to but thanks to Aestus the Lightforged blade came out beautifully.
The blade was made for Shahin and since ‘Phoenix’ suits him so well we made certain it resembled it. The pommel is gold and with Catriah’s adept hands resembles feathers. The grip is black and yellow dyed leather, enchanted to resist heat. The guard required more work on my part but again, with Catriah’s aide I was able to capture the details that we had sketched out. Four outstretched wings with a red Saber’s eye. Saber’s Eyes are used by enchanters when they make creations to enhance strength.
The Phoenix’s head rests on the blood red blade. It took Catriah considerable time to do the etching. Those lines glow with the magic held by the blade serve both decoration and purpose. It is modified from the sword of Sophy Adelis. It was rumored that the elven cleric was able to channel so much of the Light she often would break her weapons for they were unable to handle the fury and power of the Light. To solve this problem she locked herself away for a year and a day until she came out and proudly declared she had a solution. Fortunately for us her blade still exists and remains on display at her memorial on Sunstrider isle. It prevents more Light than the blade can handle from staying in the blade.
Fortunately Ethalarian is already fast and will hopefully not singe his brows.
And finally while I thought of removing the point to make it an executioner’s weapon, it did not fit the design. It’s full tang and a proper elven blade.
I find myself more grateful for Aestus and Catriah everyday. I might have managed something like this on my own if the Light filled me with such purpose but I struggled this time. Aestus channeled the Light for everything and helped as my striker, Catriah took over the design once the blade and hilt were finished and transformed from a work of art into something elegant and refined in three days and nights all on her own.
We give it to him on the soon. I hope he appreciates this. These blades have only gone up in quality since Aestus and Catriah have added their skills to my forges.
-Tyleril Silversword’s notes on the second Lightforged blade to come from his shop.
Tyleril Silversword 
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