Difference between revisions of "Gendil Ghostwalker"

Revision as of 20:04, 1 February 2014

Gendil Tithrandel was born to a small clan of sylvan elves that lived on the borderlands between Firnai-queh and the rest of the world. While given birth within the interior of a settlement belonging to a beleaguered civilization that considered their youngest offspring their most valuable treasure, rather than a mouth to feed, young Gendil nonetheless felt the tug of the forest on the subconscious level. Moreso than many of his own kin who guarded the borderlands for the more civilized of their race, he was born with what was called "a primal ear," a saying among the more civilized elves and even the sylvan elves that still were semi-settled for those whose heart and soul were far more exquisitely attuned to nature, even by the standards of elves.

And like those with the primal ear, who could discern subtleties in the wind and the trees and the ground that even other elves were at a loss to possibly understand, he spent his time ensconsed in a world that eschewed the trappings of civilization, the refinements that inevitably dulled the senses and the mind. All the same, the primal ear came with a burden, the inability to function where the music was overpowered and a distinct distaste for the complexities of elf-made civilization that paled before the beauty of a much grander creation.

Some children required their talents coaxed out of them; in the case of Gendil there was never a doubt as to where his place was. Taken under the wing of those who could understand him better than the frustrated teachers of the city of Firnai-queh, he became an apprentice of the others whose most harmonious function within elven society dictated that they live on the very edges of it. He joined the ranks of the Tathelis Viliven, those who watched unseen, moved unseen and killed unseen, as a part of the very land they strove to protect.

The young elf understood that the manufactured harmony and serenity of those he guarded lay in the hands of those like him, but that they also fought a thing that seemed monstrously inevitable. The breeding races, short-lived and fast-breeding, numerous and callous of their own losses. He learned that as many orc throats they slit in the night or as many human encroachers they warned off, or even had to fight, there were always more and even the loss of one of their own in a fight where they killed scores of the others constituted an overall loss.

The harder they fought, the more interlopers seemed to appear. Through the decades, the loss of ground and the loss of brothers caused alarm in Firnai-queh. When war was declared even the city-elves came to stand against the hordes, though to little avail. The elders realized the inevitable loss through attrition; where one elf was lost, it was a tragedy, but the loss of tens or even hundreds at a time constituted a societal disaster. They negotiated a peace with the warlords of the humans and forged a treaty that they knew wasn't worth the paper it was written on two or three centuries down the road. But it bought them time for their next strategy: Retreat.

Little by little, the elves of Firnai-queh made their pilgrimage to newer, safer havens while hoping against hope that they were doing the right thing and yet feeling the deep sorrow of those who knew that subsequent generations might not follow when they were gone. Gradually, over more decades, the city was left to be reclaimed by the forests even as unscrupulous treaty-breakers chipped away at the forest with axes. And the Tathelis Viliven occasionally chipped away at those who came too close.

Then there was no one left to guard and his brothers made the retreat as well. A blooded veteran among his brothers, he nonetheless severed his ties with his society and decided to follow the sound of the wind. He could not bear to sit among his people and contemplate the failures of his brothers and he. The world was far wider than Firnai-queh and he found that the song that stirred his soul carried on well beyond his abandoned homeland's borders. He moved through humanity's borders but apart from it. Unseen by rulers he did not acknowledge, and irreverent of laws he refused to follow. He even found a fellowship with some humans, those that eeked out a living unselfishly, and respected and appreciated what he did.

And in turn, he took their problems as his. Knights and bandits, unscrupulous merchants and others found an arrow lodged between their ribs at times, and it was these acts that led to a price on his ears. The pursuers, more often than not, gave up for easier prey; those that persisted found out that the predator/prey role could reverse itself. The price on his ears grew, but even confident woodsmen found that the elusive elf could turn his environment against them.

And so the bandit, outlaw, vigilante and ranger known among smallfolk as "Gendil the Ghostwalker" became a name of conflicting reputation, a vicious killer or a savior. Lawless and obedient to a higher law. Hunted and hunter.