Tara Emata (Autumn Island)

The sun poured in threw the kitchen window, as I stood at the sink washing berries for mother.  I stared longingly at the fresh, green grass, I wanted to be out there, running free.  I hated being stuck inside, "Where is Artemis running off too?  He can’t be done with all his chores all ready."

"Arbellason, good day to you," Beinion called brightly from the craved wooden trail.  "How are you this fine morning?"

"Beinion, good sir, I am just fine," Arbellason said in reply.  "How about yourself?"

"I’m quite well, my friend, but I have come to ask a small favor," said Beinion, as he walked closer to where Arbellason was standing.

Pale yellow flowers were popping their delicate heads through the grass on the hills around Tara Emata.  The sun was growing warmer and the days were lengthening; springtime had hit our humble little home.  We had been working for the last few months building shelter, planting crops and finding livestock to raise.  Our lives were finally getting back to normal.

I was crouching close to the ground, tearing apart a bale of hay for my horse Angel, when I heard the faint whisper of voices.  I started standing up, to greet whomever had come into the barn, when I heard father yell.

"It isn’t right, Cuiledhwen," he shouted.  "She shouldn’t be allowed back here."

"Arbellason," mother said calmly, "our people preach forgiveness, we must remember that in times like this."

"I don’t care what our ancestors preached," father said through gritted teeth, "she has no business coming back here."

I crouched lower behind the partial hay bale and shut my eyes.  I tried to think of who my parents were arguing about, but couldn’t come up with any elf that would cause such a negative reaction from my father.  I sucked in my breathe and concentrated harder on the conversation.

The war had ended; our homes laid in a pile of rubble, along with our hopes and dreams.  Families had been ripped apart and loved ones bodies were still strewn on the field of battle.  My family and I were lucky, we all made it through the terror alive.  My people had once been a grand nation, with riches and knowledge greater then any human civilization, but now everything had been destroyed.

Men from the outer realm had marched into our village with torches and weapons of death.  They were ruthless, killing young and old alike and setting fires to all of our humble dwellings.  The brutal slayings had been nothing more then pure jealousy.  Our kind were different to them and they saw us as a threat that had to be eliminated.  The warriors we had tried to fight and keep the destruction to a minimum, but there were so few trained fighters left that they were soon over powered and over thrown.

As the battles began to grow and worsen, the royal court was dismantled and led to the safety of Tara Emata.  The journey was long and treacherous and only the king, queen and their two children survived.  They are now faced with the daunting task of pulling together what is left of our elven community and rebuilding.

The new land that is now our home, is lush and green, it brings forth feelings of hope, but my father warns us to never grow content ("Contentment breeds laziness and laziness leads to death.")  He blames our leaders for the death of his friends and I cannot disagree with him.  They should have seen the threat darkening our walls and recognized that fighting would only lead to the loss of our people.  No one will listen to my thoughts on elven policy, though, for I am only a child.  My ideas, valid as they are, will hold no water with the king and his new elders.  I just wish the king was focusing more on rewriting our laws and less on finding a mate for his daughter.

Tara Emata will never truly be my home, but I can sense greatest within the land.  If the remaining families use the advantages provided to us by this island, we will be able to rebuild and become a grand nation again.  If they work against nature, I am worried our new homes will end up in fiery rubble, just as our last colony did.