[i]Aenys must love this world so, why else would he grace us with such divine majesty?[/i] Anorath thought as the tip of Aenys' great staff peaked over the edge of Harinus' divine forest, Hol-Vollum. The autumnal spectrum of reds and yellows seemed to reflect the sunrise in a way that was absent among the other creations of Mar and his lessers. A way that still captivated Anorath Tel-Thennes twelve thousand years after his first experience with it. The Mithreli duty was sacred indeed, no place in the elven world had such importance to the land as Hol-Vollum. Should anything disrupt the order protected by the green and red skinned elves of the east the fallout would surely be catastrophic. The forest had been one of the key factors in ensuring that Anorath linger in Mithreal as long as possible however the great city did not lack for other beauties. The art of the ancient people was mind bending in its natural tranquility and the cuisine was among the finest in the elven world. It's women, however, were the true prize. They spent most of their lives scaling trees and running from tree-post to tree-post. As a result they stayed lean and strong. Anorath had been expected to wed thousands of years earlier however his duties prevented him. It hadn't been long after arriving in Mithreal, however, that he became infatuated with a young elf by the name of Shae'Len. In addition to rebuilding the city she was his primary influence in deciding to remain in the east as long as possible.

"One day, after I speak to the king of course, I will have you brought to court," Anorath told the girl when they sat together under the Great Tree viewing the stars above, "we shall wed and love forever." he told her. When they explored the wood together they played with the imps and she brought forth a side to Anorath that had been absent from the public eye for centuries, consumed entirely by his work and studies. He instructed her on the principles of swordplay though the lessons never lasted long before their playful sides took over or Anorath was forced to leave and assist the soldiers in guiding the wagons into the city. 

The sun had finally risen fully above the treeline before Anorath left the marble terrace of his apartments to dress himself in his regal and intricate armor. He spared himself his helmet, the public would want a show of face. Today was the day that the repairs were to be finished and Anorath had promised the citizens a speech. He slung his blade at his hip. The sword had never been used to take a life but it was a symbol; a way to show that he was the one protecting them. The armor that had been forged for him had been designed specifically to allow easy preparation and thus took him only several minutes to be fully clad. He left the wardrobe and passed his bed on the way to the door, his breakfast tray lay crumb ridden on the table to the right of the bed and his desk sat strewn with letters. He had definitely had time to make himself at home in the spacious quarter offered by Thannis Eregan, the local regent upon whom Anorath's father had bestowed control of Mithreal and charged with the protection of Hol-Vollum. He would present a speech as well though Anorath, heir to the Tel-Thennes line, would be the true spectacle.

Outside of his quarters Anorath had a view down the hill which lead to the Great Tree. The Tree of Harinus was placed in the center of the city with the eight main streets protruding outward from in. From those a tangled web of smaller streets gave the city a level of intricacy that only a resident of the city could truly memorize it. A regiment of soldiers happened to be marching toward the tree passed Anorath's quarters. "Halt," He called to them and they sat silently awaiting his commands. "I shall lead the troupe to the tree. It will make for a better introduction of all of us," Anorath motioned for the Sergeant to fall in beside him and then for the soldiers to march up behind him.

At the tree he found that crowds had already amassed and Thannis was already upon the stage addressing them. It was not like Anorath to be late to an event such as this but the sunrise had called for him to linger at least a bit too long. When they reached the stage Anorath took care not to disrupt the Regent's speech and instead dismissed the guards to assume their honorary positions around the large wooden construct that had been erected in front of the Great Tree. 

"They will be completed today with the placement of the head upon the statue of Sascari in the market!" the Regent said before seeing Anorath at the foot of the steps awaiting his introduction. "A-... And now I would give the stage to his grace Prince Anorath Tel-Thennes," Thannis faded back to the side of the stage. Anorath didn't want to make him feel threatened but the presence of an elf clad in full armor, taller than even most Amenori and known best for leading the entire elvish military tended to have such an effect on the weaker elves. 

A gust of wind passed the stage sending red oak leaves by Anorath's feet as he made his way to the center of the grand stage to make his thoughts known.

"Ah!" he yelled as he ripped his blade from its scabbard. "You've done well, each and every one of you. You've just faced the toughest fight any elf has seen in thousands of years and come out laughing with your ale in hand," he had decided it best to give a rousing speech full of praise. He pointed out specific members of the crowd and noted their achievements. "You," he said pointing at a male elf with a long red ponytail, "I saw you carry three bags of stones up the hill to the temple to make sure the pillars got repaired on time. And you," he said pointing to a slender and tall woman with loose green hair down to her rear, "I saw climb higher than the Great Tree itself to place flags atop the rubble of the Library to display the indomitable will of your people. Make no mistake you all had a part in this restoration, were one of you absent the repairs would have been impossible." Anorath sheathed his blade and began to pace the wooden floor. "I do not claim to have been essential in this restoration, however I am proud to have been a part of it. I am to return home to Amenor soon, and believe me when I say I will be remarking on the tenacity, fortitude, and bravery of the Mithreli people for years to come. What say you that we finish these repairs right now?" Anorath asked with a fist in the air. The crowd gave a thundering applause. "Get to it!" Anorath yelled, pointing over to a thick-chested elf on a car with a large sculpted head in the back. Anorath had brought in several Masothi workers to mold the separate head onto the statue. They would use liquid concrete and slather it on, then place a sling around the head to hold it in place as the stone dried. 

The whole ordeal took two hours. Anorath himself watched at the back of the crowd atop a litter. It would have been wrong of him to take the place of honor at the front, so close that a drop of cement could have fallen on him. [i]No,[/i] he thought, [i]that right belongs to those who worked the hardest and toiled the longest,[/i] he concluded. That night the elves drank deep from the ales and wines made of fermented berries and honey and other Mithreli delights. They ate cakes and danced to the music of harps, lutes, and flutes. Even the guards on the Outpost to the eastern end of Hol-Vollum had been called back into the city to observe the ravenous celebrations. Thannis, an elf usually renowned for his social reservedness, danced with servants and drank with soldiers. Anorath himself partook of the wine and cloven bread. To top it all off the night itself was warmer and more comely than any autumn evening had any right to be. He spent the night drinking and feeding grapes to Sellesendra, the most beautiful elf he had ever seen. He red hair curled around his fingers and her lips curled around his own as they shared their own internal celebrations with eachother.

The next morning, however, was an entirely different story. Anorath found himself lunging out of bed to the sound of a horn blaring in the distance. When he arose naked from his sleep and rushed out onto his terrace to view the flame of Aeny's staff rising once more from the treeline. Other elves were rushing from their homes still rubbing sleep from their eyes and hangovers from their temples. A lone armored treeguard made his way through the streets screaming at the top of his lungs. 

"We're under attack!" was all Anorath could hear before his senses numbed. Had he trained the men properly for such an event? Was the scout still drunk from the night before? But no, Anorath's doubts were soon subsided when a procession of at least a dozen others in similar armor ran through the same path shouting similar chants. 

"The east outpost!"

"Get the prince!"

"Stop the festivities!" the last voice called. Anorath found himself fully armed and buckling his bracers on as the knock came to his door. He pulled it open and strode outside, leaving it agape and moving quicker than the men behind him so they were forced to nearly jog to keep up.

"My prince, the..." a soldier began but Anorath cut him off.

"Outpost, I am aware. Sergeant, gather your men and wait by the gates. Any scouts you see tell them I command them to take the treeposts to the outpost and view the situation. They may act as necessary if I do not arrive in time." Anorath would take the treeposts as well though he was not made for swift movement along them and would have to take the ladders and bridges reserved for the slower elves and wanderers. It took a half hour to reach the edge of the city, ten minutes to break through the crowds that were herding out of the gates to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening and twenty more to make it to the first treepost. The ladder proved difficult but once Anorath was atop the first tree he made short work of the bridges. He ran along most and descended any incline with haste though further ladders did delay him. With the use of the treeposts and the guidance of the scouts it took him three hours to reach the edge of the forest bordering the outpost. 

The Outpost was a hulking tree that had been found already hollowed out. Some construction on the interior and well as some additional barracks and armory quarters on the outside matched up with bridges to the surrounding trees made it one of the more formidable fortresses in the Elven Kingdom from a defensive point of view. It was only as he passed the bridge to the final ladder leading down to the ground that Anorath realized what a chill had cascaded through the air on his venture into Hol-Vollum. On the ground he found himself accompanied by no less than two score swordmen whom had been placed there to await him. "Move, brothers," Anorath commanded as he headed briskly toward the treeline. He burst through the trees into the magnificence of the morning sun beating down to provide the only warmth on this rather chilly day. At first it was blinding but Anorath came back to consciousness with the sight of some red leaves blowing out from the woods toward the shoreline a few miles off. 

Off in the distance several huge hulking masses of wood and cloth sat in the water. From them poured creatures not unlike the elves of Amenor though from a distance they seemed much shorter and shared more of a likeness to eachother than other elves did to Anorath's people. Across the field from Anorath and his contingent of swordsmen it was obvious that the creatures had formed some sort of ranks and were drawing closer to Anorath. He felt no fear, he knew that the small number of invaders, possibly fifty, could easily be dispatched by the number of archers held tightly in the trees behind him. The feeling he did have was akin to anxiety. Knowing that no matter how the situation was handled it would be for him to answer for. He wouldn't perish, but history could unfold there and it would be up to him to dictate its path. Regardless of how anxious Anorath may have been to address the newcomers it was necessary. They had already damaged the landscape, just as Anorath had emerged from the trees he had seen the beginnings of a logging camp set up half a mile to the north.

When the strange creatures drew near enough to see the plates shining on their armor they halted. Anorath got a good look at the one in front, mounted atop a great horse and with an armor forged of bright gold, or at least plated in it. It seemed silly to Anorath, gold was nowhere near as durable as steel as far as armor went. Why shield himself in it? That was a question for another time, however, and more pressing matters were at hand. The man opened his mouth but Anorath did not understand the words he spoke. They were as strange as his rounded ears and eyes and hair-covered face. The curls that fell upon the man's shoulders even looked coarse and wiry. They drew ever closer as they spoke until they were a short twenty feet away.

"What's he saying? Does anybody know?" One soldier asked. Anorath ignored it. He was highly unsure how war-savvy these people may be, surely they understood the concept of it they possessed arms and armor just as the elves did though of undoubtedly inferior design. Anorath made a split second decision and decided to approach. He stepped forth quickly, placing his hand on his chest and resting his right arm on the hilt of his sword.

"I am Prince Anorath." he proclaimed. Apparently he'd stepped out of line or moved too closely because two mounted men in full armor and helms rushed to the side of their supposed leader with spears pointed down at the Prince's face. He was taken aback, unsure what to truly do in such a situation he let his hand slip toward his blade. The king of these strange creatures was beginning to raise his hand when Anorath heard a zipping noise near his left side. Both mounted men fell stricken with arrows from their horses. The 'leader's' men all then drew blades and gave off noises. The leader himself fell from his horse as it neighed noisily and kicked it's hoofed feet into the air. The apparent king made some unintelligible noise and the soldiers behind him raised up shields and swords and spears and began lunging forth. Anorath's men did not react quickly and were thus put on the defensive side, Anorath himself somehow found his left hand wielding his inscribed blade. Then it came to blood. Anorath was kicking as slashing and putting his training to the test, only after being locked in struggle with one of the creatures wearing armor forged of linked chains for several minutes did he feel his blade slip between the soldier's collar bones. He fell back a few paces and noted the other elves had erupted from the trees flailing blades and loosing arrows. "Back to the city!" he yelled "they must be warned!" he screamed as his blade connected with those of what seemed like an infinite number of foes. Hopefully the fighting would end shortly and he could retreat. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but he was sure that Sellesendra would be able to mend the damage he'd just felt somehow.