Mallen en' Coia (Circle of Life)

From where Morion Kuu sat on the balcony of his two-story log house he could see the mouth of the river as it spilled into the bay. He sipped casually at a glass of fey wine and surveyed the surface of the water. He leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the table. Tyl wasn't around to fuss, and he loved leaning backward in the chair and looking out at the river. He knew every ripple, every bend, every swirl behind every rock and log because this was his river. He knew of course that it wasn't his river. No one, especially an elf, could ever possess anything in nature, certainly not a river, and certainly not in the twisted way that the edan, who bought and sold land and declared ownership, claimed to possess it.

His thoughts turned to the unpleasant edan who lived to the north and west of him-the one who claimed to own the land and paid particular attention to boundaries and such legal nonsense as deeds. Morion had talked with him once about 30 years ago and had found him to be obviously insane. He even considered transplanting a mound of termites under the man's house as a demonstration. He laughed again at the thought. He also remembered why he had decided not to do it. As he turned the corner on the age-old thought process of understanding certain edan, he realized once again that it was all part of their delusion. It was an edan mania of sorts, brought on by their short life spans. He smiled as he thought about how the edan had tried to argue with him about boundaries and ownership. He had given up the notion of the termites and at that point, deciding that it would be much more prudent, if not amusing, just to sit back and to watch the silly fool die of old age.

He rocked a bit in the chair, taking delight in the balance. His thoughts turned back to his river, the river that was his because it was in his heart. He was, taking note of the fish rising and nipping quiet circles that were only discernable for a moment as the evidence of their presence there quickly dissipated in the swift current. He smiled as he came to a conscious realization that nature would always speak to him if he listened. The fleeting evidence of the fish feeding was a metaphor of course-one that the edan had no way of understanding.

He looked back up river, past the large rock on the far bank. Something had moved there and had caught his attention. It had been only the slightest disturbance, but Morion was sure that something was wrong. The forest shadows seemed to deepen into the most intense blackness as he concentrated his gaze on that part of the forest. He flattened his vision, letting the depth of his focus trail off as he extended his elvan senses, blending more closely with the "mallen en' coia." It was then that he saw or rather felt the presence of the drow.

When elf and drow confront each other, even at a great distance, there is never any doubt as to the nature of the confrontation. It is an instinctive knowing of the other as something so opposite so totally alien that mistake is impossible. Morion felt his pulse quicken and the adrenalin rush through his body. He deliberately forced his concentration away to break the connection his senses had formed with the forest. He put on a casual demeanor, hoping that the drow had not felt him. As long as the drow felt undetected, Morion had the upper hand.

He thought back to the last gathering. Thrand and Brisid had warned of the drow presence in the glade. Thrand suggested that we simpley watch them for the time being-perhaps attempt to capture one if an opportunity presented itself. Sinjun and Celeb had been talking just the night before about a possible connection between the drow and Mord'sythe. Morion eased the chair back down to level. Leaving the glass of fey unfinished on the table, he slipped out of the house and quickly entered the forest.