The solitary elven rider pushed his stallion to the limit. The setting sun’s last rays of light were sinking into the treetops of the forests to the west. The newly constructed roads crossing the plains were well built and the horse found solid footing, which helped keep the pace set by the demanding rider. The lights of the city on the hill were now coming into view. Telen remembered how these lands looked twenty years ago. He remembered lawless wilds where human bandit gangs ran unchecked. He remembered a land where the Fey created havoc…from annoying trickery to outright hostility. In the decades since his clan had been destroyed, the land had fallen to chaos. There was no one to maintain order. The lights of the city in the distance were symbolic of the change he was seeing. The small frontier kingdoms were a beacon of hope in the darkness. Telen pushed his great Qadiran stallion, Carom, in order make the city before the sun set below the horizon.
He smiled. He was home again. He belonged in the Riverlands.
Telen had spent the last two years traveling to Kyonin to meet his people and learn of his own heritage. He had enjoyed his trip and learned much about himself, but he had not found a home in the elven lands. Having been orphaned to a life of survival by any means necessary in the Riverlands at a young age, he felt a distance when around his kin. He had learned harsh lessons that did not seem to have a place in Kyonin. Perhaps, he was as the elves say, truly a ‘Forlorn.’
When he had first returned to the Riverlands, Telen had traveled to House Northstar to reconnect with his favorite former pupil, Balian Orlovsky Northstar. The young human had shown remarkable aptitude in the saddle as well as a strong character. As a human, Balian would have grown into an adult in the time Telen had spent in Kyonin.
Upon arrival at the Northstar estate, Telen was told that there was no son to the Northstars named Balian. Human communication was always somewhat confusing, but after a short exchange with Lord Northstar, Telen began to piece together some of what had happened. This was a matter of human honor. Blood was quick to boil in the short lived races and in humans especially so. On the way out of the estate, Telen had run into the old stablemaster who would say only one word to Telen in a hushed voice…. ‘Stagfell.’
It didn’t take the elven scout long to learn of the drastic changes to the Riverlands. Men at the local taverns told tales of the band of heroes who were taming the Greenbelt. As an elf, change was measured in decades. To see cities and roads built in what had once been lawless wilderness...in a span of only a few years was amazing. Humans, he mused as he rode through the dusk, are surprisingly proficient at producing incredible accomplishments in short periods of time.
Telen patted Carom on the neck. The elf whispered into the great Qadiran stallion’s ear, ‘To Stagfell my friend.' Horse and rider left a trail of dust in their wake as they blazed across the plains in approach of the city gates.
