Elvish Princess

Ron and his mother really had only the barest notions of where their human ancestry hailed from. For this reason, Ron's journey of self discovery was rather general. Her parents were American, that was all she knew. Where they had come from before then, she'd never really cared.

"If I had to guess," she'd told him, "Not America." She also hadn't known anything about Earth geography.

In his time out here he had met several people with varying complexions that led him to believe that perhaps his human family hailed from India, or one of the African Nations. Or the Caribbean.

"Jesus was a pirate, who sailed the seven seas, Jesus was a pirate..."

In the meantime he'd secured a spot on the boardwalk for the nightly festival and was quite enjoying regaling people with both obscure (or not so obscure) human music, and famous Elven songs.

"He didn't rob or pillage, he didn't rape or steal, his ways were never violent. Instead he performed miracles, the blind and sick were healed, Jesus was a pirate."

The sunsets down here were beautiful, and he liked how they framed him when he performed.

"Woah!" the crowd gasped as there was a green flash on the horizon, just as the sun sank beneath it.

Ron started. He had not done that. The hell?

He honestly wasn't sure whether he heard the music or saw the pirate ship first.

"Oh no way!"

Dear Aunt Momo,

Mom told me about how sometimes in Fandom, people burst into song as if the entire island were in a musical or something. Either that place is leaking, or Ron and I did something. We practiced Bardic magic not too long ago, and about two days later the entire city did the musical thing.

There's nothing like seeing a skirmish between Truebloods and the Pack turn into a dance/rap battle.

Love,
Sila and Ron
aka
Surf and Turf

"Sing me a story, of heroes brave and true,
Handsome and quick, beautiful and fierce.
And a fearless young queen, so cunning and grand,
With a vision no arrow could pierce!"
--The Fall of the House of Alton or, the Saga of Leda of Danan
Quickly becoming an Elvish traditional epic.

*****

Leda just stood for a moment, breathing in the familiar scents of her home town. She swore she could detect the faint aroma of Godmom's pizza, the lavender scented exhaust from spellbox driven motorcycles. The Mad River. And there, on the wind from the east was the odd smell of the Never Never.

"So are we to stand here on the hill blocking the road all night, or are we gonna go surprise the hell out of Wolfboy?" Ron asked impatiently.

Leda opened her eyes and glared at her young companions. "Excuse me it's been a really long time since I've been here last, and I think I deserve the chance to savor it."

"Yeah but we've never been here." Ron countered. "And I wish to explore."

"Technically I have been here before." Sila reminded him. "But I was a little kid then and do not remember much." She shivered, and pulled the knitted cap from her coat pocket. It was a bit of work to get it over her ears. "Seriously though Mom. I sympathize, I feel the same way every time I reunite with Uncle Iranon's caravan. But it's really cold and dry up here, can we at least get out of the wind?"

"Okay yes." Leda agreed. She sometimes forgot how sensitive Sila's skin could get in dry climates. "Welcome to February."

As they headed down the road towards Soho, Leda probably looked very much like the tourist both Sila and Ron obviously were. All three seemed to be trying to take in everything. The only difference was that there was recognition and nostalgia in Leda's looks.

"So, what are you kids looking forward to the most?" she asked.

"The music." Sila said.

"The food." Ron said at the same time.

They grinned at each other. "The boys."

Leda sighed. "This town's gonna eat you alive." She hoped to the Lady's of Never You Mind that she was kidding.

"I got him, Mom, Dad." Leda said softly. "It's over."

She stood before the monument to monarchs past. It was a simple obelisk, but those who touched it would be able to see the faces of those commemorated here. Leda had stopped here to let her parents know that the man who had ordered their deaths was gone.

She stood there for a moment, just refreshing her memory of their faces, then went to join the others.

Word had come late last night that the Dragons had driven back the Giants with minimal loss of life. But for the Matriarch and her daughter, it was a Pyrrhic victory at best. Ember and Smoke were children really, in the way Dragons measured age.

Dragon mourning practices were very private and not for the eyes of other races. But because of his friendship with Leda and the others, they were having a memorial for Smoke here as well.

Polaris clutched Leda's hand as she approached the crowd.