(So, I take a stab at this writing business. *takes a stab* Here we go...)
A Fighter
Who am I? That is a hard question to answer. I could tell you my name, but since when do names have much significance? I could tell you my title, but there is a good chance that you would turn away and listen no more. So who am I? I can only tell you to read further, only then will you truly know and understand.
My father was an Elf, and my mother was a Diaboli. Naturally, the result of this cross of races was a Ynnwn. I was the youngest of the family. My four older brothers were the ones who always got to learn the things that my father could offer to teach them. He as an architect, a very intellectual individual. He relied more on his brains than his brawn, and my brothers grew to be the same way. I never talked to my father much, as I was too energetic and competitive. I had a bit of a violent streak in me, and he hated me for it.
My mother, however was different. Despite her being a Diaboli, she was a very devoted follower of Laanx. She was skilled in many Ways of magic, but mainly the Ways that were for healing. She worked in a small village as a healer in their small temple devoted to Laanx. Even though the holy objects affected her in such strange ways, her religious devotion never faltered.
Even though she was indeed a healer and had a very peaceful demeanor, she could be fierce. Once, a band of thieves attacked the temple. She moved with such swiftness and struck with precision, that I barely had time to recognize that she had moved from her position. The thieves were only three in number and very inexperienced. I stood transfixed as she offered a hand to the thief that she had just sliced with her Dark Daggers. \"There\'s no need to steal from a place of worship\" she whispered to him. The thief wiped the blood from his arms and spat on the ground at her feet. \"That is what I think of you and this place!\" he said before he turned and fled with his group. My mother turned to me with her fierce red eyes. I stared back at her, utterly bewildered at what had just happened.
\"Aradia\", she said absentmindedly while she went back to her healing circle. \"Pass me that bowl please.\" I walked over to the table to get the bowl that she had indicated. I picked up the bowl and a searing pain surged through my hands and arms. Instantly, blisters appeared on my skin and I cried out as I nearly dropped the bowl. \"It burns!\" I gasped as I hurried over to my mother to give her the bowl. She spun around and quickly grabbed the bowl. Her eyes widened. \"Aradia!\" she said to me. \"I\'m so sorry! I forgot that the bowl has gold in it!\" She pulled me into her healing circle and gently touched my blistered arms and hands. She muttered a few well chosen words and a ring of the Crystal energy formed around my wounds. After she had finished she looked me in the eyes and said with utmost sincerity, \"Forgive me Aradia. I never meant for that to happen. I\'m so sorry.\" I smiled and embraced her. \"Don\'t worry\", I said. \"I\'ll learn to handle it just like you learned to handle the holy objects.\" She gave a small smile. \"You\'re a fighter Aradia. Always be a fighter.\"
That night, when we returned to our small, isolated house about ten miles from the village. I knew something was not right. The house was dark and no signs of movement were seen. When we entered the house, my father\'s and brothers\' possessions were gone. A note was on the table. I picked it up and began to read, \"I cannot live here with you or the girl any longer. You fill her mind with violence and hatred, while my sons and I strive for peace and a comfortable life. I have taken my true children with me. You may keep the girl and the house. I want no more communication with such evil beings. I love my sons, even though they have part of your monstrous features. The girl, however, I deem an abomination. Truely the biggest mistake we\'ve ever made.\" - You know who wrote this
I stood there trembling with rage and my eyes stung with tears of bitter hatred. My mother came from the other room and took the note from my hands. She quickly read the note and tossed it into the fireplace. She led me over to her bed and sat me on the edge. She sat down next to me. \"Aradia\", she began in a soft voice. I didn\'t look at her. \"An abomination...\" I said venomously. I looked into her glowing red eyes and held up my raw hands. \"I\'m not supposed to exist am I? Diaboli and Elves aren\'t supposed to have children.\" I lowered my hands and stared at the floor. She placed her black hands over my red ones. \"Aradia\", she said. \"You have every right to exist. What he said is not of any importance.\" I stared at her with my eyes still brimming with unshed tears. \"We\'ll talk about this in the morning\", she whispered. I nodded and kicked my boots off as I crawled under the blankets. \"Always be a fighter, Aradia.\" She kissed my cheek and closed the bedroom door behind her. I fell asleep to the sound of her quietly weeping in the next room.
\"Always be a fighter.\" I will never forget these words for they are the last words that I heard escape from her lips.
I awoke the next morning to complete silence. This was not a good sign. My mother should have been awake. I leaped out of bed and pulled on my boots. I flung open the door and nearly fainted at the sight in front of me. My mother\'s lifeless form lay on the floor. A large dark stain was on the floor near her neck. I dropped to my knees and inspected the slice in her throat. My own salty tears mixed with the dried blood around the gash. I gently lowered her head to the ground. My mind was screaming for me to crumple to the floor and weep until I too was as lifeless as my mother. But, no, I had to be strong. \"Always be a fighter, Aradia\". I nodded as if she was standing right next to me, whispering in my ear.
I walked outside in the cold morning air to the small tool shed. I grabbed a shovel and began to dig the shallow hole for my mother\'s burial. After the hole was finished, I emptied one of the large, wooden boxes we normally used for storage and lined it with my mother\'s favorite quilt. I went back inside the house, still fighting back the tears as I lifted my mother\'s body and placed it gently into the box. I placed my fingers on the wound on her neck and whispered a few words. The wound closed, but a scar remained. I whispered a prayer and invocation to Laanx and placed the lid on top. I dragged the box, now my mother\'s casket, into the shallow grave and covered it with dirt. I then sat down, cross-legged next to the grave. I knew that burying the dead was not the custom in Yliakum, but I didn\'t care. I scattered grass seeds over the mound of dirt and stood up. \"I\'m a fighter\", I said aloud to the silent trees around me. With a last look at my mother\'s grave I turned to the house and walked inside.
