A month, then two passed after my horrible encounter in the ruins but I could not shake the feeling that something dangerous was coming. My grandparents brushed my intuition aside due to my youth and inexperience. "No mortal men will harm our home," they would tell me and then dismiss me away without a second thought. My father, who always heeded my warnings, stayed on edge and took more and more of the border watches as time went on hoping that he could stay any attackers before they reached our lands. On the nights he did not take watch he increased my training in spell work and weaponry teaching me about daggers and swords and the proper way to wield them. I soaked in all the information and continued to train even when my father could not teach me.
I was not what you would call extraordinary during my lessons. Oftentimes I heard the other elves of the forest call me mediocre at best, but nonetheless I trained as hard and as long as my mind and body would allow. I would soak in the words of the spells like a sponge and store them deep within myself to call on during a time I may need them. I tinkered and toyed with combinations of the words trying to come up with my own spells. My father would always encourage me but would warn me not to work past my limits for fear that I would injure myself or possibly even burn our home to the ground. I was not as fearful, as I saw no real talent in myself with magic, I saw my abilities with the dagger and sword to be far superior to that of my spell work. My father, however, did not feel the same as I did and would tell me that I had far more power in me than I yet realized and so encouraged me more and more with my spells than with my swordsmanship.
On the night of the full moon during the third month after seeing the treacherous men, it happened. Fire and arrows rained from the sky and screams split the night air. Fearing for me my father rushed me to the top floor of our tree house and placed me in the closet. "Keep as quiet and as still as you can. I will return for you when this is over." Dread filled me as he closed the door and ran down to face the attackers. Peeking through a knothole in the closet to the outside I could see the fire and devastation. My father stood at the forefront of the elves shouting words of encouragement in our native language. In the distance beyond the flames I heard the clanking of armor and the sound of thunder that I knew could only be coming from the feet of the warhorses the men I had seen rode. Unease filled me as they came into the light of the fires and I knew that it was those men that now attacked our home.
My father unwavering took his fighting stance as did the other elves in the forest. As the men reached him the battle began. My father leaned and spun and felled many a foe moving as if in a dance and not a battle, but the more he fought the more men came. Every man my people killed seemed to be replaced by two more coming in from the forest edge. They were severely outnumbered and despite their skill and prowess with a blade the men felled them one at a time until only 20 or so elves remained now surrounded by these monsters; my father still at the front fighting. Suddenly a sound came from the sky. Arrows flew in aimed for elf and man alike. I knew then that these men must have no souls as they cared nothing for other creatures or themselves. Fearful for my father's life I reached out with the most powerful spell I could muster. Flames lit the night sky burning the arrows before they could reach the elves. I tried to hold the spell as long as I could but my strength was waning with every second that passed. For a moment I say my father look my way as if he knew where the flames had come from and then he continued fighting. The arrows continued to fall and as my strength gave out I saw them falling first on the men killing many in their path and then on the elves.
The elves fell to the ground one by one like pincushions, my father with them. I looked out overcome with disbelief and fear. I collapsed to the floor of the closet unable to speak, unable to move. I knew it was over for my people and myself. Suddenly I heard loud banging footsteps through my home knowing that these were not the steps of an elf. The men began ransacking the house throwing pots and plates on the ground. As quietly as I could I moved to the door and looked through the crack at the bottom. Across the room I saw the dagger that my father had given me that had once belonged to my mother lying on the table. As I began to stand and reach for the door handle I heard the door to the rest of the house slam open. I dropped to the ground and began looking through the crack again. There was a large armor clad figure standing in the room turning the dagger over in his hands. He then hooked it on his belt and turned around looking straight at my hiding spot. A wry smile came across his face as he stepped toward the closet. I ceased breathing, hoping beyond all hope that he would get distracted and turn away; he did not. As he reached the door I had decided that I would kill this man and then try to escape or die trying but before he could open the door and I could attack I heard the footsteps of two more men enter the room. Frozen by renewed fear I waited. The door creaked open and the large man looked down on me smiling with an evil grin. Suddenly he took his sword and with the blunt end hit me knocking me unconscious. That is the last that I remember of my home in the forest.
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