Long days and nights he had been in mediation, communing with his god, Tethrin Veralde. His silver-grey hair lay matted against bare back. The moon etched in relief the many scars which criss-crossed his arms, back and chest; reminders of the painful lessons he had learned on his long path to the art of Bladesong.

His calloused hands rested easily upon his knees as he sat, in what the edan referred to as the "lotus" postion. As had long been the case, the humans had adopted as their own what had long been a practice of the edhal. His chest rose and fell methodically, as incense burned upon his small altar on the roof of his home.

The lanterns, blown by a small breeze coming off the nearby lake, cast weird shadows across the body of the elf. A metaphor perhaps, of the inner turmoil which plagued the young elf.

Young by elven standards, barely more than a teenager by human thinking, Q'wellen had long ago shed his youth. Lost it was more accurate, lost it to the horrors that had overwhelmed Neverwinter after the devestation the Dark Storms had wrought.

He had lost much, his father, mother and siblings. Had even paid the price of losing the knowledge of his native tongue, as payment for the trip here to the Glade, in his search for Rikluan Sambria and the knowledge of bladesong Sambria possesed.

It had been four years since he first stepped foot upon this new land. Four long years of hard work and learning new things about himself. He gained many allies in that time. He had even gained the sembalance of a family when Luthein had adopted him as her "nephew".

He learned a great deal about himself, most of it uncomfortable. Foremost was his temper, not a common thing among the patient elves. It often threw his brethren for a loop, to see him lose his composure. Even worse was his penchant for spouting off when his temper flared, something that had gotten him into trouble several times.

He had been content with his life up to now for the most part. He struggled daily to fight the growing evils, which ever pressed the borders of the Glade. He trained. He played. He had even found a distant cousin, the half-elf Faelen, and had allowed him to move into his humble home. He worked hard to earn the acceptance of the elves of The Grey Company, in hopes to one day walk as an equal among their ranks. It was a good life.

And then came the Lady Sunveil. He had flirted with her a bit in the beginning. Had even gone on a date with her to the falls once. The memory of that day burned crimson upon his soft features. He had kissed her, and in the deep throes of his first crush, had promptly professed undying love. How embarrassing it had been, even more embarrasiing was his lashing out when he felt the fool, for his unexperienced heart.

He had left the Glade shortly thereafter, deciding to try and find himself by walking the dead lands. He had been gone several months and even now could not look back upon those dark times. Though none knew it, he still awoke some nights, drenched in sweat from the nightmares of those evil days.

When he had returned to the Glade, he had sworn a pledge to defend it from all attackers. He had tried to make amends for the mistakes he had made months earlier, most times he had been successful in his attempts to make apologies.

and as always there was Myra. She had been pleasant (thank goodness) when he had stammered out an apology for his "rush to love". During the trying times that had plagued the Glade this summer he hadn't seen much of The Arwen'Sunveil.

Finally the Glade seemed to find a relative peace with the defeat of Bal'morda. Although Q'wellen had quietly disagreed with the risks Myra had taken he admired the strength it had taken.

And to the present. Khellenduras. Khellenduras. "KHELLENDURAS!" Q'wellen roared, his back arched and his head tilted back, straining to release the pent up animosity toward his arch-nemesis. The first sound he had made in days. Faelen came running from the Alchemy lab, poisoned blade in hand. "Q'wellen, what's wrong?", Faelen asked as he looked about for signs of danger.

"I told you Faelen, not to come to the roof. Go away."

"By Corellon, Q'wellen. I thought Khell was up here ripping your guts out."

"If only I was that lucky, Faelen. Nothing would please me more than if that treachrous lich attempted to challenge me in my own home. He fooled me once with that invisiblity trick. But that won't happen again," Q'wellen stated with a grim smile.

"Has Tethrin answered?"

Q'wellen's hands moved in a subtle pattern. "VAS AN ORT". Q'wellen felt the mana surge through his body as he stated the words of power. "Yes Faelen he has, I have reached the seventh circle and the eighth is within reach. When Khell comes, I will have a few surprises for him." "Remember your oath Faelen, as far as the inhabitants of the glade are concerned I'm but a mere dabbler of magic. I must maintain that illusion, so that when we finally meet I will hold the upper hand. Too late will Khell realize the depths of my power. Now go, I still have much work to do to reach the eighth circle."

Q'wellen returned to his meditation as Faelen walked quietly downstairs. Once Faelen had left, Q'wellen turned to look at the moon. He felt confident in his abilities to defeat the evil one, as long as he maintained a level battlefield. If he could throw Khell off for a few moments with his new found magic, then it might be possible to close the gap, and confront the lich blade to blade. And in that contest, no being, living or dead surpassed the skills of a full Bladesinger.

And then there was Myra. He imagined he could see her face in the moon, shadowed like her dark hair, by the clouds in the sky. He had spent several of his long hours of meditation thinking of the Elfmaid. He had finally come to the conclusion that, no he was not just infatuated with her, his feelings were true. He had finally given in to those feelings, once he had heard of Myra's attempt to help Mely. But the simple fact was that he was not accustomed to feelings of affection for anything other than his blades. Perhaps his Aunt would have some advice on how to approach a lady, he certainly couldn't ask Allanen or Valoden.

Q'wellen settled back into his meditative stance. Clearing from his mind all thoughts of the maiden, he once again focused on his magic. A few surprises for Khell indeed...