Dream On
Preparations for a New Year
(Especially for Lady Bellatix, Lady Lilith and Lady Sigrid)
Ehrendill had settled in Avamar, his father's ‘capital’. Unlike his predecessor, he preferred to set up a humble tent where the great temple once stood, from which he could easily walk to the Academy, preferably through the temple of the Church of Humanity: to see the work of a defeated people in Avamar was the type of insult Ecthelion liked to swallow in the name of his cultural diversity. Perhaps it was not so offensive if the old man had the dignity of not letting the Sirionite religion die in the process. These were daily mental reminders that the young elf was forced to have so that one day, perhaps, he himself could be the agent of change. Bringing back the pride of the past was the first step, obviously after rehousing all the traitors, usurpers and conspirators who had been celebrating the absence of an identity in their favor. Again, it was impossible not to think that Ecthelion had sold Sirion for Oligarch. While Erik had conquered Sirion, the old man had to bring defeated enemies, incorporate them into his court and beg for their support to be able to rule again by having his majority of votes guaranteed within the Council - and that's how Sirion ended up with a Westmorian as Prime Minister.
Patience was the key for a good start. Knowing his new people and letting them know him was vital. That was his goal in the early days, training in the Academy, preparing himself for the battlefield. Like his father, tradition led him to search for the Dames and Ladies of the Sirion: Erik had trusted them and they had not failed him -- except when he accepted them by impositions of other men, like he did with Celine and Giselle. Ehrendill wanted to see them up close, especially a certain princess. He wanted to see how they moved and danced with their swords, for his grandmother was Rugina Blakeshadow, the Sword-Dancer. So, he invited them to old plaza where his two young squires were plucking the weeds between the cracked stones. He waited for them, undaunted in his light armor and fearless with his practice sword. There was something profoundly solemn about the young elf, almost like the arrogance of a dragon looking at everyone from above. Which was interesting because he was inevitably polite and humble in dealing with people. There were no evident raptures in his character; everything seemed always under control in his expression and in his measured movements. This might seem lacking in passion, but his eyes, that amalgam of greyish green and blue, were like a dam ever about to overflow. Like his father and mother, he was undoubtedly beautiful, a classic beauty who acted through graceful movements. However, as they would come to discover, he was not perfect. They would find flaws in his dance, for he was still young and inexperienced.
Ehrendill Eyolf: “I'll tell you this... No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.â€
