Aedin

Aedin
By: Yamashita-Shina
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Claimer: I own all the ideas, characters and plot in this story.


Hello everyone and welcome to my first novel Aedin. This is a story of a boy who is not quite human and is hated by his entire village because of his differences. However he is the foretold hero of the land and will be the one to unit the humans and all of the creatures in the world against an evil that is awakening. This story is completely original and I am intending on getting it published if I get the right kind of reviews from readers. However, it is based off ideas such as Naruto, Eragon and Lord of The Rings. Please leave honest, critical reviews that will aid me in creating a great book for the future and will help it get published.

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Chapter One

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A sliver of light peeked through the thin streaked clouds, the luminous white moon casting the world below its pale face in a shower of ethereal silver. The silent forest glowed in the sparkling light, quiet and calm. Droplets of dew shone in the glimmering moon rays as they slowly made their wet paths down the tips of leaves and grass, glowing like liquefied silver. The forest hummed silently the wind whispering through the branches and leaves, ominous electricity flitting through the woods. The animals had long gone to their nests and abodes, intending to rest their weary heads only to have found their slumber interrupted by the sudden foreshadowing in the night’s air. A lone wolf pranced stealthily among the trees all the while eyeing the ancient trees with its bright sapphire eyes. It raised its long white snout to the sky and quietly scented the air. It sat on its hind quarters as if waiting for the appearance of some miraculous entity. It then shook its back roughly and began to walk again.

It was searching for something and had travelled far from its dwelling in the snowy Milestone Mountains to the mysterious and ancient forests of Toerheim. It had ventured far with a purpose for many a fortnight and had now reached the end of its mission. The creature stopped its silent pursuit and looked up at the numerous trees that grew from the moist ground, massive and awe-inspiring. They were the oldest of beings in the world and there was something magical and mysterious about them. Deep in their bark laid powers no elf, dwarf or any other magical being possessed in Alagaesia. The wolf sniffed a near by willow tree. It froze instantly when a whisper of breath passed through the tree’s branches, the scent of time and age assaulting its sensitive nose. The wolf leapt back and looked up at the trees. The wind picked up, its touch soft and feathery, carrying the forgotten words of the ancients.

Why do you hide in your animal form, friend of Toerheim? Since when do you practice caution and humility?

The deep voice, old and gentle, resonated in the air causing the wolf to shiver from the underlying power of it. The wolf moved towards the place the voice had come from and stopped before a massive red oak. The tree stood in the middle of the forest upon a raised lump of land, alone and mighty in its stature. Its deep red bark seemed to be glowing in the silver of the moonlight, its aura bright with power and wisdom. The wolf cocked its head curiously, sitting on its hind quarters, its sapphire eyes fixed on the tree.

A chuckle boomed from the tree.

Why have you come here from the mountains, Aelflaed?

The wolf’s eyes flashed with something akin to annoyance. It stood stiffly on its four legs. Suddenly the wind began howling and gathering scattered leaves and forest debris around the creature in a large orb. In a flash of green came forth a young man from the falling leaves, his eyes as blue as sapphire, and his hair as white as snow. He bowed low to the tree and then murmured,

“Larfhlaith, lord of the West and the forests, I come to you-“

I know why you come young elf.

Murmurs began to rise from the other trees, catching the young elf’s attention. He looked around him, a frown on his gentle, aristocratic face. Turning his attention back upon the wooden ancient, Aelflaed spoke.

“Then you must be aware of the change in the world.”

Yes. I have been aware of it for some time.

“What can you tell me of the prophecy, my lord? I seek-“

You seek to empower your people, Aelflaed. And that is something that is impossible.

The elf stiffened. He stepped forward aggressively, his hand resting upon the hilt of his slender hand-and-a-half sword that remained sheathed at his hip.

“How can you state such? My people have protected and cared for you and your kind since we came across the sea from our homeland thousands of years ago! Have you no honor tree?”

The other trees whispers and murmurs of shock and outrage began to rise. Their leaves began to shake both in pity and anger, their slumber disturbed. The oak remained silent for a moment then began once again.

I state only that has been foretold in the stars, friend of the wood. Have you not asked the same from the knowledgeable Urzarks? What you seek is not truth but false hope. The rumors that what has been prophesied is now awakening are indeed true. Your people, the light elves, have waged a war they can not win against their brethren the dark elves. Elves fight amongst each other, light against dark, over transgressions committed centuries ago.

“My dark brethren were banished from Eldesmere for their perverse and heinous practices in the sinister arts.“ Aelflaed stared blankly at the red oak. “Elf or not, they committed sins that my race can not forgive nor forget. We wish to banish our dark kin from this land.”

That is indeed a noble ideal. Yet your war has been bloody and has cost countless lives for both sides. And now the dark elves have risen in power and are threatening to cast your people into oblivion. You are outnumbered and over-powered, Aelflaed. And all the while your people wage war against one another, another power is awakening in the far north, on the island of Narusly. A dangerous and formidable enemy is returning. Have you not felt it? The scent of evil and death is carried on the wind. Even now you must have noticed the departure of your cousins, the wood elves of Hyiaem, who have now set sail to another land. They long ago sensed the evil of which I speak of. They heeded my warning and now have left this world.

“My people can not leave. This is our home and our land. We left our homes thousands of years ago intending to find the Promised Land and have found it. We will not uproot ourselves again and leave what is ours.”

A groan creaked from the very core of the oak much.

But your people pay no heed to the evil that threatens to lay waste to all that you know. This evil is not of anything even we, who were here before all, seen before. When I was but a sapling I heard of this evil and was told of its near annihilation of this world. It consumed everything in its path and only through the alliance of our ancestors who long ago departed from this land, managed to overthrow and seal it. But the seals have weakened because of the evil pouring from the countless wars and hatred that are consumed into the world, corrupting the very air. The war among elves, men, and dwarves has set it free from its chains. Creatures of the dark and from the deep recesses of the earth are appearing. They are creatures of legend and horror, and now stalk the land. This evil threatens all who live and only through the combined alliance of every being will there be a possibility of smiting it in its destructive path.

The tree sighed while the others remained silent and attentive.

But so consumed with hate and the need to be dominant do the elves persist in their war. You are on the brink of extinction, Aelflaed. The only race that appears strong enough is the humans. It’s a young, immature species but in them we must trust in their hands the fate of Alagaesia. The time of magic, wonder and ancient power is gone. Even the language of the trees has been forgotten, Aelflaed, and will remain so. The scent of war is in the air. The world is trembling with fear of the outcome of the battles to come.

The young elf stood silent. He stared at the tree, his face void of thought or emotion. He then looked to the stars.

“What you say we all know. But… the humans are arrogant, destructive creatures. They kill for pleasure and soak their hands in their own blood for personal gain. They are unintelligent, bestial creatures. You say to trust in them yet there can not be one decent, honorable one among them. They are a tainted, twisted race.” Aelflaed cast an icy glare at the forest lord.

“Surely you are mistaken. Humans? We have no need for humans nor their puny strength.”

Their strength has been measured by their lack of magic, friend. They are not so barbaric and weak as they seem. While they wage their wars against each other the humans still manage to prosper. Have you not heard of [i]Pavcrion’s Myth[/i]? It foretells of the warrior that will rally this separated race. I sense him Aelflaed. His power is awakening and soon he will rise among his people, hated and feared, but he will be their savior. You know of whom I speak of; the hero that lies in the midst of the humans that will lead them to victory and splendor.

Aelflaed allowed his thin lips to be pulled into an annoyed frown, his blue eyes steely. “And who is this heroic human? Where can he be found if he does exist?”

That I do not know. He will come forth eventually, Aelflaed. And you must find him. It is in the stars and was written before both you and I. You must seek him out and ready him for his path.

Aelflaed clenched his finely shaped jaw. Flicking his waist length white hair behind him, he turned his back to the oak. “I know what I must do, Larfhlaith. However, it is a task I neither find pleasing nor honorable.” He cast a mutinous look to the oak. “I will seek out this supposed hero among the humans. I do not promise to be successful.”

He then walked forward and in a shimmer of green, he transformed into the artic wolf again. Bowing one last time before the tree, the elf warrior set off into the night, leaving the forest in great haste.

My friends it is our time to now slumber. I have done all I could for the world. I have set the pieces into motion and on their own accord must they be victorious. We, the trees of Alagaesia, elders to all, must now go into our slumber and remain silent during this most disastrous time. Sleep my kin for we have done all we can. Our time that consisted of heroism, courage, splendor and magic is gone. Gone are the days of bravery, selflessness and ancient powers now forgotten.

The red oak then sighed once again, the groan vibrating from its very core and the forest fell silent, the murmurs of the trees ceasing abruptly. The animals settled in their nests, the quiet of the night luring them into sleep. However none could ignore the scent of foreboding. Their world had changed – fate would play out its plan soon enough and the conclusion of the future of their world and its inhabitants would be viewed by all.

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The sun lazily crept over the horizone, stretching its firey rays across the land. Among the forests and mountains, the fog of the morning began to disperse. A lone figure watched the sun rise as they grabbed their bow and quiver of arrows all the while strapping the weapons onto their back. Picking up a leather pouch and attaching it to their worn belt, a young boy walked across the wooden planks of his house and to the door. The door creaked and groaned on its rusty hinges. He stepped out onto a wooden platform, eyeing the ground and within a moment had leapt from the tree house and had landed elegantly on the ground. Turning and looking behind him, Aedin glanced at the large tree he had found himself living in, the small hut built in its large limbs old and falling a part. Built into the front of the wooden structure were two circular windows, one on the right and the other on the left, and a small door with a red symbol of the kingdom painted on its old wooden surface.

Running a hand through his fine, sandy-golden hair, Aedin stretched out his back and walked to the side of the tree. A horse lay among the tall grass upon its folded legs, sleeping and unaware of his presence. Aedin looked down at the horse and smiled. He reached down and petted its white mane gently before turning around and walking to the path that lead outside the forest. He intended to go into the village today and buy some supplies. He needed some new blankets, a pot and perhaps, if he was lucky with his coin, a sharp knife. His old knife, the only heirloom he had from his father who he did not remember or even know, a simple dagger, had begun to rust and dull.

The sunlight broke through the tall trees, warming his cool skin. He walked a long the hunting trail since he was five. His foot steps caused dust to rise from the worn path, causing his plain leather knee-high boots to gather sand on them. The trees began to become less dense until only a few stood on his side. Looking up from his gaze on the path, Aedin stood before the field that surrounded the small village of Berutmoor. Large mountains and thick dense forests surrounded the village, nestling it from the world. The village was surrounded by a ten meter thick wall made of logs. The open gates of the village hid the wooden barricade doors that could withstand a small army. A wide dirt path wound from the only entrance and exit of village into the valley surrounding it and through the narrow mountain pass that lead in and out of the Berutmoor valley.

His hands fisted while his body trembled. Aedin stared down at the village, noting the occasional tower of smoke rising from the huts. The fires were more then likely being used by the town's women to either do laundry, cook a meal, or to warm their homes. His young face, feminine almost with its slanted blue eyes, slendor nose and thin lips, became pained. He was only fifteen but he felt much older as he stood on the brink of the town. He had been alone ever since he could remember. The villagers had never welcomed him nor had they ever made it a priority to care for or even acknowledge his existence.

He was reluctant to enter the village. Those eyes... the eyes that showed hatred and disgust. He felt them every where he walked. It was as if he was some sort of monster that had stumbled into their midsts that they desired to destroy but had not the courage to attempt to. His eyes narrowing on the village, his chest swelling with pain, Aedin clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding. They hated him and found him to be scum. They never took note of him until he treaded too close to them. The children refused to play with him. The women scowled at him if he looked at them and their offspring, usually dragging their curious children a long with them into their homes. The men glared at him, always their hands resting upon a knife, hammer or gripping anything that could be made into a weapon when he passed them.

The wind picked up and gently ruffled his hair, revealing ears that were tapered sharply at their tips. Aedin instinctivley fingered the tips of his ears, a look of sadness on his young face. He was human. He was sure of it yet... sometimes he felt as if he wasn't entirely. His face was too feminine and pretty, his body lean and lithe, his ears pointed and his footfall soft and unheard. He let his hand fall from his ear. He was an outcast - a loner. He had no place in this village or, at times he suspected, this world. Sighing, he reluctantly walked toward the village, his hands in the pockets of his worn-out, dirty brown tunic. He glanced down at his meager attire. An old tunic, a white undershirt with ragged long sleeves, brown pants and knee high leather brown boots. A simple belt tied around his slender hips and upon it was attached his small leather pouch with the few coins he had earned by doing tedious jobs for the rancher, Eiric.

Eiric raised the cattle-like goats native to the Berutmoor lands known as Berugol. They were large goat like creatures with gigantic horns that sprouted from their heads. So massive were the rimmed horns that they tended to curl under their bearded chins. They were simple, timid animals and were the reason why the village prospered. Their wool was produced into yarn, their milk into cheese, their meat for food and their horns and bones for weapons and domestic tools. Their owner and herder, Eiric, was a kind, shy man in his early twenties. He had no qualms with Aedin but did not go out of his way to be overly-friendly to him. He was polite and provided money to Aedin if he herded the Berugol for him.

Coming to the gates of the village, he cringed when he saw the gatesman, Turnac, glare at him coldly.

"Watcha doin here, boy?" The burly gateskeeper demanded.

Aedin stopped and met those hate-filled eyes. "I'm going to purchase some things and go up to Eiric."

Turnac eyed the boy they called 'monster'. He was a strapping lad but that did not make up for the fact of what he was. Staring into those cool blue eyes, Turnac spat on the ground next to the boy's boots and growled.

"Don't go makin trouble ya hear? I hear one thing gone wrong in there 'n I'mma comin fer ye."

Trying to ignore Turnac's more then apparent scowl, Aedin stepped into the noisy, cheerful village. Side-stepping a pile of manure left from a horse, he watched from the corners of his narrow eyes as the villagers isntantly stiffened and glared at him. Digging his hands further into his pockets, his shoulders hunched, he tried to avoid their scowls and glares. An old croon known as Miya watched him with her black, loathing eyes and cackled.

"Wutchu doin boy? Gotta keep a comin back?" She hissed as she then spat near him.

Ignoring the hag, Aedin continued to walk among the round homes. They were all circular and had wooden doors with the red painted symbol of the empire; a circle with two wings spread underneath it. The town was filled with energy. Women were outside their homes picking herbs and vegetables from the gardens of their huts they grew in both the front of their lawns and in the back. Small wooden and stone fences seperated the homes from one another. Some of the circular buldings were one story high while others had a small addition on the top. They had thatched roofs made of twigs, timber and straw and the walls of the homes were round and made of a cement like mixture. Round holes were often cut into the sides of the houses to make windows with either a blanket or curtains to block them. Some people had gone to the expense of buying glass in some cases.

Some of the stores and homes were log houses and were made of large trees the owners had collected from the surrounding forest. Aedin made his way to the middle fo the village where the market was located. The villagers knew one each other as a family would and there was a routine for the townspeople. However, that cheerful routine faltered when they heard the silencing of their neighbours. Glancing up, curious, one by one the townspeople saw the boy, Aedin, walking down the street, his eyes downcast, his body stiff. Their eyes narrowed into icy glares and fixed on him angrily. One thought passed the adults' minds.

Monster.

Aedin continued to walk a long the road, trying to ignore the glares he felt probing into him. It felt as if every glare cut into his skin. He looked at his bare arm and was surprised to see no injuries that bled. He took quick glances to his sides, wincing when he noted the pale, lined faces of the silent, glaring villagers. He chewed on his bottom lip. A group of children were in the middle of the road, kicking at a ball and screaming with delight. The group consisted of at least seven children who were enjoying their energetic game. Suddenly one of the children who had been prepared to kick the ball across the road and into the alley froze when he saw Aedin walking down towards him.

His little face drained of all color and his eyes widened with horror. His friends instantly noticed the sudden stop to their game and looked up. The once howling group stood still and watched the one they called 'monster' walking towards them. Pulled from his stupor, Aedin noticed the abnormal quiet of the usually noisy road and looked up. A boy no older then twelve stood before him, staring at him as if he were about to decapitate him on the spot. Aedin looked at the boy blankly, staring into his huge green eyes. Those eyes. He had grown used to those exact eyes the boy and his pals were staring at him with.

Fear, revulsion, hatred...

The boy began to shake and whimper. A woman suddenly rushed to his side and pulled him behind her. She was of middle-age, her dark hair pulled into a loose bun at her nape, her face streaked with flour making it apparent she had been baking. Her upper lip curled thus baring her teeth.

"Leave my son alone! Don't look at him!" She spat, her dark brown eyes becoming black with hatred.

Aedin felt his chest tighten and his stomach roll unpleasantly. The children huddled behind the woman, cowering in fear. On their lips he heard them whisper 'monster'. His hands clenching painfully, Aedin looked down at the ground and silently walked by the she-bear. The townspeople watched him silently, their eyes flaring with loathing. Stopping before the smithery, he looked behind his shoulder at the assembled people. They stood as a unit, all of them gathered underneath one shared hatred - him. Aedin felt an alien emotion swell within him. It was a dangerous, blood-thirsty fury that threatened to consume the usual pang of pain within his aching chest. He had done nothing to these people. At least not that he was aware of. He had always been alone.

No parents, no family, no friends... was that why they hated him? They saw him as a bondless freak?

Aedin glared at them. They were the monsters. They judged and hated for nothing. They were nothing more then superstitous, ignorant fools. His finely shaped jaw clenched and a vein worked in the side of his temple. Aedin grasped the wooden doorknob, sharply turning his eyes from the people and stepped into the smithery. The smell of smoke and the hazy grey fog coming from the large open-fires of the large ovens dimmed the already weak light coming from the beeswax candles on the wooden counter. He walked to the counter, his body still shaking, and hit the tiny metal bell with his palm. A charming 'ding' chimmed.

"I'm comin!" A loud, boisterous voice called from in the back of the shop.

Aedin watched as a large, heavily muscled man stomped into the shop from the room in the back. He wore a black apron that sported charcoal smudges, burns and dust on its front. His huge forearms were shinny and red with numerous burns he had collected over the years from handling the smouldering metal he melted and worked into fantastic weapons and domestic tools. The bearded smith raised a bushy black and grey-streaked brow when he noted his potential customer was none other then the boy Aedin. His lips puckering into his thick beard, he ran a hand through his thick, unruly hair, uncomfortable with the situation.

He did not have anything against the boy but his wife did. The smith glanced to the room adjacent from the back of the store to see with his wife, Alyanna, was. He sighed when he saw she was not there. She was more then likely in the back hanging the laundry or something. Bogdan nodded to the boy and fingered his large hammer in his hand.

"Good day." He rumbled in his deep, powerful voice.

Aedin flushed. The smith Bogdan had always been polite to him but yet again had not extended an offering of friendship either. Eyeing the store, Aedin stepped towards the counter, his right hand holding his money purse nervously.

"I wanted to buy some things."

Bogdan stepped towards the counter and looked down at Aedin. Noting his large blue eyes, slender nose, thin lips, high cheekbones and golden hair the smith came to the conclusion the boy did not look human. He was too fair and feminine. He was of a slender, lithe build and seemed to loop with a certain soft grace. Bogdan inwardly pitied the boy. The villagers, including himself, understood the animosity and hatred directed towards the lad but Aedin himself didn't. Long ago had it been agreed upon, before the lad was even five winters old, that he would never be told of his condition. Many argued that he would use it for evil purposes while others insisted he would seek for more of his condition, intending to abosorb it to act out his hidden malicious plots.

Bogdan looked into the steely, pained eyes of the youth. He could see what the hurt of being utterly alone had done to the boy. He sometimes wondered if subjecting Aedin to solitude would perhaps push the lad into doing what the villagers presumed he would do. He was always curious as to what would of happened if the townspeople had attempted to welcome Aedin and had been kind to him. However too many people hated the boy and blamed him for things that the smith knew the boy had not committed. They hated the boy not for himself but for deeds he did not committ and had occurred long before he was even born.

"What exactly?" Bogdan inquired.

Aedin looked at the row of swords and shields mantled high on the far wall behind the counter and felt a twang of desire in him. He had always wanted to be trained in the art of sword-combat like the other youths of his age however the village had banned him from any town-related activities. And so he watched from the sides, alone, as boys his age underwent training and tutorage under the town-swordsman, Garrick. More then once had Aedin noted the lessons that were being taught and had practiced them alone in his home upon laundry or crude furniture with a stick for a sword and a pot cover as a shield.

"A knife and perhaps a pot."

Bogdan nodded. Reaching underneath the counter, he produced a finely made pot and set it before Aedin. Aedin noted the fine crafstmanship and held it up, scrutinizing it carefully. He set it down.

"I'll take it."

Bogdan set it to the side and then turned to the right. Along a counter of stone rested countless knives on a piece of cloth. Looking at each knife, he asked the boy from over his shoulder,

"Which hand do you use?"

Aedin blinked and stammered, "Left."

Bogdan raised a brow. Another oddity of the boy. Not many people were lefties. He rarely made any sort of weapon for left-handed people for there was only one left-handed perosn in Berutmoor and that was the gatekeeper Turnac. Eyeing his knives carefully, Bogdan noticed a dagger with a leather covered handle and two-inch thick blade that tapered sharply into a needlepoint. Picking it up, he examined it before he turned to Aedin and held it out to him.

"Meant for left-handed people and a pretty number to boot. Made of some rare stone I found up in the Milestone Mountains a few years back." He said.

Aedin hestiantly took the knife from the smith. Grasping the handle gently, he blinked in surprise when he noticed how right it felt in his hand as if it were an extension of his hand. Bogdan noticed the look of wonder and pleasure on Aedin's face. The boy's face became youthful and bright which unnerved the smith. He had never seen the boy looked pleased or show any sort of joy. The small smile on his lips and the softening of his youthful features caused Bogdan to pity Aedin more so. His eyes becoming gentler, the smith coughed to gain the boy's attention.

"That there pot be two coins and that dagger be seven."

Aedin froze at the price. He looked at the knife. He knew the knife was easily at least twenty or more coin and yet Bogdan was demanding less then half. His eyebrows rising in shock, Aedin could not help but stare at the ruffled blacksmith who now stared down at his feet quietly.

"I... really?" He stammered.

Bogdan gave Aedin a scowl. "Well I said so, din't I?"

Flushing, Aedin mumbled. "Thanks-"

"Din't do it fer ya. Knives dont sell much now a days. 'Specially for lefties like yerself." He interrupted gruffly.

Fishing the coins out of his leather purse, Aedin ignored the serious depletion in the weight of it and grabbed the knife first and then tucked the pot underneath his arm. Turning to leave he heard Bogdan ask for him to stop. He turned to the smith and watched in confusion as he lifted the counter on the side and walked in front of him. The smith was tall and thick like an ancient tree, his kind face hidden behind a tangled beard and a wild mass of hair. Staring up at him, Aedin watched the blacksmith offer a black leather sheath for the dagger. Aedin felt his heart stop. Never had so much kindness been directed towards him.

Bogdan stiffened when he saw a slight line of tears gather in the boy's eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks.

"Er... this comes with it." He coughed.

Bowing his head forward to hide his tears, Aedin could only nod. Blinking back the offending proof of his weakness, he could only whisper,

"Thank you."

Bogdan felt his chest constrict. Seeing the boy grasp the sheath in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white, he watched as Aedin turned his back to him and exited the smithery. Stepping into the bright light of the sun, Aedin winced and felt his eyes instantly become dry again. Looking to his sides and seeing the same villagers glaring at him, he scowled, his earlier elation shrinking. His hand tightening around the sheath, he quickly slid the knife into the leather case and clasped it to his side. The new pot under his arm, he walked to one of the huts further down the road. A lady known as Elaina wove beautiful and comfy blankets of Berugol wool. Many people bought her blankets for presents and for themselves. Women sought to learn her skill yet none had achieved such a gift.

Knocking on the door, his hand hitting exactly in the middle of the red painted circle, Aedin froze when it was thrown open violently on the third knock. A woman of over fifty, Elaina was considered an elder in the village. Her hair was a very light blond streaked with white hairs one could almost not see for how light her natural hair was. Her eyes were an intriguing violet and her skin almost free of wrinkles. The smell of herbs and Berugol wafted into his nose causing him to grow faint. He quickly shook his head and met her glare.

"What do you want?" Elaina demanded suspiciously, her eyes narrowing with dislike.

"Some blankets."

Elaina scowled. It was very obvious she would rather not sell to the boy the village despised but coin was not easy to come by in this time. Pursing her thin lips, causing a few wrinkles to appear around her mouth, she reluctantly muttered for him to come in. Aedin walked into the round hut. The entire cieling was strung with Berugol yarn with drying herbs and numerous plants tied from it. A large cauldron sat in the hearth of the fire, the scent of stew mixing with the Berugol wool and plant scents in the room. He noticed a simple chair and table with a pot of daffodils in the center of the table. A wooden chest with some pillows ontop of it sat underneath a window and to the left of the hut, near the fire, a cat's bed with a ball of yarn and a few toys. Lastly, a large carpet done by Elaina herself was thrown on the wood floor. The simplistic appearance of her home did not surprise Aedin.

The village was prosperous yet there were not many wealthy people in Berutmoor. Many stored their money away for their children or spent it on their family and chose simplier lives. It was a hard, lack-luster life style yet the townspeople enjoyed it. Aedin watched Elaina walk to a large cabinet on the right of the hut and open it revealing carefully folded blankets, sheets, quilts and pillow wraps on the wooden shelves inside of it. Within a few moments Elaina came before Aedin and showed him two simple but very finely made blankets. Both were green with the red symbol of the kingdom sewn into the middle of it with a frame along the four edges consisiting of golden triangles.

"Eight coin per blanket." She stated stiffly.

Drawn from his admiration, Aedin froze at the price.

"That's a lot-"

"Pay it or get out." Elaina snapped.

Scowling, Aedin set down the pot near his feet and untied his money purse once again. Emptying the rest of his money into his open palm, Aedin was reluctant to see how much was going to disappear from his purse due to this ahg's greed and hatred. Staring at the money before him, he noted in fustration he had only twenty-four coin left. It had taken him four months to save up all his money. He still had to buy food and new horseshoes to buy for his horse! Glaring at Elaina, he offered the sixteen coin. She swooped it out of his hand swiftly and shuved the blankets into his arms rudely.

"Now out!" She barked as she opened the door for him harshly.

Glaring at the woman, Aedin picked up his pot and blankets and stepped outside the house. As soon as he was outside, Elaina slammed the door behind him, hitting him in the back. Stumbling from the impact, Aedin yelped as he fell to the dirty ground, the pot rolling out of his arms and the blankets becoming filthy. His body shaking from fury and pain, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees. Looking forward, he saw a young boy eyeing his pot with interest. It had rolled right in front of the boy and now rested in front of his feet innocently. Scowling, Aedin gathered up his blankets and stood, ignoring the pain in his back.

He watched silently as the boy stooped and picked up his pot. Aedin felt his fury ten-fold. More the likely this boy was going to steal it or not give it to him for his own sick amusement. The boy looked Aedin's age and was tall, lanky and had brown hair. He was tanned and surprising muscled for his age. It appeared he did hard labor and was more then likely a farmer.

"This yours I presume?" The boy asked in an off-handish tone.

Aedin frowned. "Apparently."

The boy raised a dark brow at him. Those green eyes slid over Aedin slowly, taking in every detail of the rumored 'monster' of Berutmoor. Shrugging his shoulders, the boy walked forward and stopped but a meter before Aedin. Aedin stiffened and readied to throw his blankets to the ground so he could fight back. He watched in shock as the youth then held out the pot to him.

"The name is Cane, son of Deaglan."

Aedin eyed Cane with open suspicion as he grabbed the offered pot. Tucking it back under his left arm a long with the blankets, he took Cane's hand and shook it.

"Aedin, son of..." Aedin looked down at the ground, flushing. He did not know who his father was and due to the fact he had never been introduced to someone or asked for his name, he knew not what to say.

"Nice to meet you." Cane interrupted smoothly, his tanned face still kind.

Aedin blinked in surprise, unable to comprehend the turn of events. Cane withdrew his hand and placed them into his pockets. He wore simple pants, a loose shirt and knee high boots. His belt held a dagger, a money purse and an amulet. Aedin eyed the amulet with curiosity. It was a simple leather piece of string with silver beads on either end of a wooden carving of some sort of animal.

"What kind of animal is that?" Aedin could not help but ask as he nodded towards the amulet.

Cane raised a brow. "Ever heard of the history of Alagaesia?"

Aedin shook his head. "No. Why?"

Cane fingered the carving gently. "The land was split into different provinces by powerful spirits over a millenia ago. They ruled their territories and took on the form of massive animals with certain powers. When one of the spirits grew ambitious and sought to take over all of the land, a bloody war broke out among all the spirits. It wasn't until the interference of the dwarves and elves and a few powerful warriors known as the 'Glorious Seven' that all of the spirits were over-thrown and sealed. It gave freedom to all of those in the world to inhabit any part of the land without fear of having to fend off a god-like spirit." Cane smiled. "Its said that this allowed humans to come into the land and to harvest it. The spirits would have destroyed us before we could say 'This looks like a good place to settle'."

Aedin could not help but allow a small smile on his lips. He had never heard of the history of Alagaesia but then again no one had bothered to teach him anything. Shifting his feet, unable to think of anything to say, Aedin jumped when Cane said,

"So you're the hated 'monster', eh?"

Aedin scowled at Cane. He should have known this guy was going to be a bastard like everyone else. Placing his purchases in his arms more comfortably, Aedin turned and began to walk down the road to Eiric's ranch. He was going to ask Eiric for his pay, grab the rest of his supplies and go home. He would brush Eponili, his horse, and re-shoe her and then practice with his stick-sword and pot-top shield upon the scarecrow in his small garden. Feeling the new knife thumping against his side, Aedin made a quick decision to also practice with his new dagger. Suddenly, Cane was in front of him, walking backwards, his hands raised in front of him in a placating gesture.

"Oi! Whats wrong? It was just a question." He said with a frown.

Aedin cast a cold glare at him. "Come to stare at the 'monster'? Want to see if I fly, have fangs and claws and smell like the human flesh I devour ever night?" He snapped. His blue eyes becoming flinty, his face contorted in a look of anger, Aedin walked around Cane. "I've heard it all before."

Cane started to laugh. It was a loud and boisterous guffaw. Aedin froze and turned and stared at the boy. He was laughing ridiculously hard, his arms holding his gut as if he were in pain. Cane continued to laugh until he looked up at Aedin's pale, furious face. Shaking his head, still smiling, he looped his arms behind his head and walked forward with a swaggish strut. Bending forward to look into Aedin's face more closely, Cane gave him a half-smile.

"Firstly, you dont have fangs or claws. You have a catty-like face and pointy ears but that doesn't make you a monster. More like a pointy-earred freak. You might be part cat 'ya know. And if you could fly you'd think you'd use that ability to get the hell out of here and go to another town or something." Cane raised a brow. "Lastly, human flesh eh? Well that sounds good. Mind sharing an arm or leg with me? Always wanted to try human before. Sounds filling and a lot less expensive then going to the butcher."

Aedin stared at Cane in obvious shock. Here was someone laughing and joking with him. Aedin blinked slowly, expecting for him to wake up or for Cane to disappear. When Cane remained standing in front of him, his arms folded behind his neck, still smiling, Aedin felt something odd begin to grow in him. Contentment. Happiness. He had heard of those emotions but never experienced them before. This boy, this person, was seeing him and talking to him. His eyes were not cold and unseeing. His lips were pulled into a smile not a scowl. And he was talking to him; not at him.

Cane winked at Aedin and began to walk down the road. "Well you can stand there all day or we can go finish whatever your doing then hang out."

Aedin shook his head. Feeling his lips begin to smile, he noticed his face hurt from the action. He did not smile that often and his face was unused to it. Holding his new supplies more comfortably, Aedin managed to shrug and say,

"Sure. I have to go collect some money from the ranch and buy some food from the market. I'm running low."

Cane nodded. "No problem. Let's go!"

The two boys eyed each other one last time and then gave one another small, friendly smiles. Cane strode beside Aedin with a sort of goofy strut, his handsome face bright and carefree. Aedin walked beside him quietly, his eyes a bit brighter, his pale, elegant face smooth and youthful.

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Well what does everyone think? Once again this story is a mix of Naruto/Lord of the Rings/Eragon. Rate and Review!!


Translations:
Alagaesia: Latin for the world
Names: Most of the names are gaelic/latin/welsh