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Elfcember headcanon of the day: Of all the elf clans - none specialize in fishing. Not even remotely. As a result, despite the existence of fishing spots in Tirannwn, most elves prefer not to waste their time learning to fish, and despite us never really getting too many clues in canon about what they eat/what is considered elvish cuisine, fish probably aren’t on the menu at all.
Elfcember Headcanon of the day:
A vital part of choosing an elf clan leader is based on the candidates’ attentiveness to others (because as a clan leader, it is only expected that your elves will come to you with their issues and ask you for help). Even in clan Iorwerth, where many elves may seem to be a stoic unfeeling or snobbish on the outside, the leader must have empathy for their people and a desire to help them.
Bonus related headcanon: When the World Guardian arrives at Prif for the first time after the events of Sliske’s Endgame (in which they were directly prevented from telling Harold and Icthlalrin that they need help), the elders (leaders) immediately notice the change and after asking the World Guardian for their health (and again, probably being told that everything’s “fine”), they start piecing the WG’s condition together. When they’ve deducted enough, they sat down with the wg and started a much-needed therapy session with them.
This is supposed to be a letter.
Or written in a letter format.
Warning for mentions of death and violence.
Dear brother,
How are you?
Are you safe, wherever it is that you are?
Has the world been good to you, regardless of your location?
I hope it has. I’ve been worrying about you a lot recently, especially
with all that has happened here.
You probably have no idea what I’m talking about. I’m sorry. I guess I
should start from the beginning.
The decades and centuries since our parting have not been kind to
Tirannwn. It’s almost as if you took the land’s stability with you
when you left.
Within a century, our beloved city bled and crumbled.
Horrible war tore us apart, conflict that shook our childhood home to
the core. We were forced to leave, if we wished to survive. Things
didn’t look pretty on any of the fronts, and we eventually received
news that Prifddinas has reverted back to crystal. No day went by
without me thanking Seren for keeping you safe from the devastation.
Our childhood memories were my anchor, and the most significant of my
few consolations during those horrible times.
But the more I delved into those memories, the more painful it became.
I am sorry, brother. Truly, I am.  I’m sorry for being so stubborn and
condescending during our last days under the same roof.
I took everything for granted, brother, and now I regret it.
Mother has died fighting in the war, and father succumbed to poison
after trying to free one of the elves from some sort of trap when we
were evacuating.
I’d say it’s my fault, too. If you were there… I know you would’ve
figured out an adequate spell. If I was half as magically gifted as
you… then perhaps father would still be with us. It hurts to even put
these words on paper. Yes, even after all these years.
Well, you’ll probably add it to the list of existing reasons to hate
me, but I don’t mind. I deserve it.
Other survivors would say I’m not to blame. They say I didn’t break my
family apart.
And frankly? I agree.
I didn’t break my family.
I shattered it.
To more pieces than I am able to repair.
And everyone paid the price. Everyone other than me.
I know I call my clan a family, but I was always closest to you.
And now they’re gone, brother. Our parents didn’t make it, and they
died hoping, but not knowing, whether you were alive.
And… truth be told? I don’t know either.
But I was hoping, too. I still am.
I’m still clinging to this old hope, that one day you’ll come back.
And when this day comes, maybe we could be brothers again.
It doesn’t remove my guilt, for it was I who tore us apart.
It was I who turned a blind eye to all your struggles,
it was I who belittled you,
it was I who made you disdain your clan and your name, and leave.
And now it is I who, after all these years, comes to regret it again,
and again and again. Life in a war, and a refugee camp, made me
appreciate family much, much more than I ever did before. And While
I’m glad you weren’t forced to live like that, I also find myself
yearning for your company again. Incredibly selfish of me, I know, but
what can I say?
You were always the first to calm down and think things through.
Always the one with the logical solutions. Always ready and willing to
help everyone understand how exactly they should deal with the
consequences of their actions…
And - by Seren, that’s some advice I could use.
Granted, we did return to Prifddinas. A human, of all things, helped
us find a way.
It’s peculiar, I know, but at least you can take solace in knowing it
wasn’t me. I’m no longer some grand hero with grand achievements. You
no longer need to resent that version of me. You know, my childhood
self. I don’t want to “one-up” you anymore. I know I’ve hurt you, and
I don’t want to ever do that again. I’m sorry, brother, for all I’ve
done.
Forgive me for being a horrible brother.
For taking you for granted.
For not having the courage to contact you sooner.
For letting you down.
And letting you leave.
Your trust means more to me than my position as a clan leader.
I wouldn’t mind returning to my little camp if it would mean seeing
you again, at least from time to time.
I hope that you find it in your heart to forgive me one day.
If you ever do…
Prifddinas is awaiting your return.
And so am I.
Kindest regards and best sentiments,
Arianwyn Cadarn.
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An Elfcember story regarding my headcanon about Helwyr and his Chosen. Feels and elf angst and more Chosen fun ahoy! @kethsi @saxspielercaderface
Each one of the factions at first thought they were the first to set down camps into the cavern deep below the deserts of Nardah. But, it would seem that for all the bile and violence or otherwise held within the hearts of the factions that found it for one another, there was enough civility within them to settle the matter honestly. For now, it was the calm before the storm. Each had marked out their territory within the cavern, each with an eye towards the the core where anima pooled below. Anima that would do well in the hand of each of their gods(?).
The elves sought well to keep the life the anima was sprouting from being tainted, letting the flowers and trees and grass flourish in the southeastern territory that was their own. They set up and sung crystal to sustain them; the song filled the entire cavern with calm.Â
One of the elves, garbed in green and trimmed with gold and bearing a halberd of the same sparkling crystal made his way into the deepest chamber of the territory. Along the way, great mushrooms had grown up, as well as other assorted plant life. No doubt, it was the work of the one he wished to visit. Along the way he let a banner fly, one bearing the majestic visage of his general in all its splendor. Other elves worked to secure the enchantments to make sure the general's quarters and ingression portals were secure.Â
"My lord Helwyr?" He said, after getting clearance from the presently at work elven mages.
"Not now. I am having a conference with my Chosen." His general's voice echoed out of the chamber, calm and sure.
"Yes, my lord." He left, and went back to overseeing the preparations.Â
Within the deepest chambers, the life seemed to spring most vibrantly and the crystals shone most brightly with what light was in the caverns. It was dotted about with mushrooms and seemingly pristine fallen leaves were scattered about. However, two mushrooms in the center had grown particularly large. On closer examination, they seated two similarly clothed elves. One had his face hidden under a dark horned hood, the other's was showing. The latter elf's bright red hair looked radiant under the crystalline light.
"...As I was saying, Helwyn, soon the fighting will become fierce. The one I have pursued for so long has fallen right into my hands." Helwyr crossed his arms; his eyes, the only part of his face that could be seen, showed a mix of determination and affection.
"You have said so. I know...." She looked down, and then up at the other elf again. "It is that vile monster. He ripped apart my uncles and your brothers." She said, somewhat hesitantly before matching the look of determination in his eyes.
There was a moment of silence. Distant memories from centuries ago sprung to her mind. These were happier days indeed, before vengeance seemed to consume her father's every thought.
It was during the war of the Third Age, Â but the land of the Elves was still relatively peaceful thanks to Seren's protection. That was the world young Helwyn was born into, one full of light and life within the lands of Tirannwin.
"Daddy?" A tiny red-haired elf girl in blue clothes ran after a similarly blue garbed elf who stood in the clearing. He chuckled a little, turning and kneeling to look at the child.
"Yes, my daughter?" She cracked a wide grin, looking at her father's face.
"Can we play again? You've been away..." She looked up at him with her hands clasped, her eyes going wide.
"....Why yes we can, dear Helwyn. I suppose to make up for it...I can show you something special." He would be smiling if his mouth were seen. Helwyn perked up. "Here, climb on my back." The girl clambered up his arm and hung her arms around his neck, giggling.
"BEHOLD!" He knelt down, and an aura of magic surrounded him. To her surprise, suddenly her father transformed and grew into a giant, majestic, blue-furred and wolflike beast with antlers on his head and running along his back. She gasped, as she grasped onto tufts of deep blue fur, looking at the turquoise swirls.
"WOOOAH....How did you do that?!?!?" She was astonished, then clapping repeatedly.Â
"It is the power in the blood of the Cywir, my daughter. Someday, you will know it too. You too will learn how to fight the creatures of darkness." His voice, though deep and now much more beastlike, somehow didn't scare her. It still had the same undertone of wisdom and fatherly affection. If there were any bad guys, he would be able to chase them away. Seeing him like this only strengthened her conviction.
"Hold on tight, Helwyn." She did, grasping onto one of the antlers. Then, Helwyr began to run. She squealed with delight as the land flew past. She felt invincible and happy.
"The day has come at last, my daughter. You are of age...and ready to begin your training."
She had awaited this day, counting down the years until the promised one arrived. She had been garbed in blue armor like her father Helwyr wore, and she could not be more excited. She could only imagine how proud of her he would be. She would bear the name of the Cywir with honor.
"Reach within yourself. See the creature of darkness before you. Draw out the ferocity of the beast needed to defeat the one in the way of the light!" He guided with his words. Helwyn closed her eyes and squinted, grunting. There was a flash of power around her, but nothing seemingly happened.
"Closer. You are almost there. Draw it forth, Helwyn!" He encouraged, his voice rising to a fever pitch.
"I will...For the CYWIR!" Her eyes closed, and she knelt down as she had seen her father do so many times. A wave of surprise, excitement, and wonder rolled over her as her hands became claws, and now she found herself in a rather sleek, graceful, Â bright blue and white wolflike form. However, having just assumed it, she proceeded to scramble a bit and fall on her belly. Her father chuckled.
"The first part of your training will be getting used to your new form, evidently."
"...I know I have trained you in the art of war. I have seen few finer, my daughter. But that is not where I need you in this battle." He said, the look in his eyes an unreadable mix of emotion. "I did not expect this matter to have taken as many centuries or have claimed as many Cywir lives as it did." Â He crossed his arms and legs. "As such...your tongue may be one of the most powerful weapons we have."
"What does this mean, father? Should not the Heiress prove her mettle in battle? What if that...monster's forces seem to be too much?" She said, concerned.
For a moment, Helwyr paused. The memories of the accounts of his slaughtered brethren and what he had seen firsthand haunted him. The nightmare recurred in his mind. She would be on the battlefield, fighting with all her might and ripping apart the undead forces. However...it would not be enough. That undead, masked monster would descend upon her, smiling with depraved delight....and then...
And then....
No, he couldn't send her. Not her. Not his precious child. He couldn't condemn her...couldn't condemn the Cywir's future for a moment's chance. This was the correct decision, he reasoned to himself.
"Trust me, Helwyn. This is how we win the war. Then, you will take my place. I will have my rest. But for now, I need your tongue most of all, my daughter." He said, having regained his determination.Â
The time drew to an end as the encampments now stood complete. So was the platform where the truce would continue. This was her place. She took the banner, walking out of the camp, across the soon to be bloodied battlefield and up the ramp. She sang, and crystals and life adorned it. She then unfurled and affixed the banner with her father's visage.
But, she was not alone. Another Chosen had beaten her to the platform.
"Another joins us." To her left was the chosen of Zaros, a man in a hood that shaded his face, lightly trimmed ebony armor with a well-crafted sword and book on his belt. Nearby him hung another banner, that of an ornately armored teal dragon. It was the face of another creature of darkness to be defeated.
"We will see in time who wins this war." She said, calmly and with poise, recalling her father's words. Remain civil, my daughter. Retain the Cywirs’ honor.
Another joined them, as light flames and another banner lit up the platform kitty-corner from her. A man with light red skin and noble, rugged red armor took his stand. This was of two female halves seemingly merged together and engulfed in flame. More creatures of the darkness that would be vanquished.Â
"Greetings, mortals. You will see in time that the tumult of this battlefield will prove Zamorak and his ways. Strength through chaos!" He took his stand.
One platform was eerily empty. But, there was a chilling clanking of bones as a lavender purple figure skipped into view, up the ramp, with a sack and a rolled up banner in hand, giggling madly to herself with a blush across her face. Brown and white, wild hair, deathly pale skin, and with shadowy purple armor covered in spikes and skulls. She scattered bones from the bag around her station, whistling to herself as she went. Then..she unfurled the banner, and Helwyn scowled.
It was the masked figure, much like the one her father told in her stories.
Remain...rational...remain...calm....
"Sorry I'm late, dear Chosen, I just had to make sure I understood my orders from Dearest just right." She cracked an unsettling smile.
She did not know how long she could keep her father's word with her around.
The weeks passed. As she would later learn their names, Sir Amaru, Vindicta's chosen, was the most amicable of the bunch to her. At least he displayed nobility and intelligence despite being the youngest of them. Same with Karastus, the chosen of the Twin Furies; though she would fiercely hunt down his queens, yet she could at least acknowledge they had some honor.
Not Carol. Not the Chosen of that monster.
However, one day when the winch lowered, she held her breath. The one who descended had hair as bright blue as the crystal next to her, with two grand white wings on her back. She wore armored robes that were white, blue, and armored with gold. She seemed to shine with light. The only thing that seemed to break this was the cloak of black and red she wore. She got a closer look; on its back was a skull with a dagger through it.Â
If I can succeed in recruiting her....that dagger will be through the skull of HIS undead legions.
"Ah....I was right." Sir Amaru commented, leafing through his book. "I suspected you would arrive eventually....White Guardian and Slayer Master Zorial Serenity Diamond."Â
He was well informed indeed. He knew who this warrior was...one with considerable prestige. The other two Chosen inclined themselves towards her, ready to give their speeches. Zorial looked around, scanning the Chosen, until after glaring at Carol her green eyes underpinned with diamonds came to rest on Helwyn and her banner. Zorial's eyebrows raised as she beheld the elf's post.
It was at that moment that Helwyn noticed the choker around her neck. It bore Seren's symbol. Her spirits raised considerably. Even the weapons on her back, a beautifully sung crystal bow and a mighty spear, seemed to pin her as a warrior of the light.
"White Guardian." She said, before any of the other Chosen could get in another word.
"Are you sure you wish to join their side? I know of you, slayer of the Araxyte Spiders and conqueror of the Temple of the Lost Ancients. We could use another warrior of Misthalin on our side." Sir Amaru said. That got Zorial's attention, and she glanced over at him.
"You know Lady Seren's way. I can see it." Helwyn said. "Join with us, Slayer Master. Let us follow our common goddess in fighting back the creatures of darkness. The Cywir would welcome you with open arms."
"Come on now, would you join these weaklings? The forces of Zamorak could use a warrior like you....and we could make it well worth your while." Karastus tried to persuade her, but Zorial ignored him.
"Do you really think you'll win with her on your side?" Carol said, with a disturbingly sing songy voice. Helwyn and Zorial together glared at the chosen of Gregorovic. "She may end up with us whether she likes it or not!" She let out a peal of manic, giggling laughter. "Why not just join the winning side now?"
"....I'll fight against the forces of Sliske especially hard. We have an enemy in common." Zorial said. "And...I have this." Zorial passed her a crystal of solid anima, thrumming with power.
"....Welcome to the forces of Seren, Zorial Serenity Diamond." She said, smiling as she passed Zorial an insignia with Seren's symbol. The Icyene pinned it on her armor with pride.Â
Father....you were right. My tongue may win us this war.
Feeeels....the feels.  The line “Be safe out there” was inspired by this picture by @slothsleuth that I just found adorable. :D
He’s been buying them ever since I can remember.Every now and again, he’d say he wanted to restock in Lletya, even if we had enough supplies.When we’d be on our way again, aside from more food in his bag, he’d have - in a side pocket - a small amount of candles; wrapped in soft cloth with delicate care.Eudav and Oronwen made them, setting them aside especially for him.They had no wax to work with, so they made them from the tar Eudav gathered. Oronwen would mix some lighter green and blue dyes with the tar, the results similar in color to the Tirannwn forest clearings. And every so often, when the stars came out, he’d sit down, take one of the candles, hold it carefully in a leaf or two, and light it.The way he looked at the little light sources…It made me look away.It was an innocent, intimate scene.Like a priest, praying at an altar.Like parent, holding their newborn child.Like a traveller, stepping into their hometown for the first time in decades.
And well, absolutely rarest of all, he’d start humming.A quiet, almost inaudible lullaby of sorts, with a doleful tune that never failed making me wonder, each time I heard it-Was it from his childhood, or did he come up with it on his own?
He never seemed to mind me listening.Assuming he even noticed in the first place.I could never tell. I’ll ask him later, I suppose. When the candles burn out.Someday.
