An elven Druid, Dorian son of Magiluthran, lives in Kelethian and is a mage of the fouth circle. It is an important time in Kelethian, and the Druids of the Light are preparing to celebrate Gael, which is a holiday week where the druids of the inner circles choose druids from the outer circles to enter the inner circles. Also, all of the elven druids leave Kelethian and move out into the Open, the rest of the elven world, and give gifts to the Chosen. It is a careful process, the Choosing. Gael is a holiday of the Third Circle and is practiced every three years in the third week of the third month. It was a beautiful morning and Dorian was enjoying it. He walked along the Ru'then Gardens, smelling the flowers and singing softly to the morning sun.

Dorian walked down the corridor seeking the voices out. "They haven't been leaving me alone lately," he said softly to himself...his own voice echoing through the corridors in his mind. He shut his eyes and tried to picture the voices...he concentrated...hard, but he wasn't skilled enough to bring the telepathic Voices into the light. Not even into the light of his mind.He opened his eyes and shook the frustration from his head. He was simply a druid of the Fourth Circle. He hoped to be chosen for Gael, but he doubted it would happen. Very few people were chosen, and they were the ones who excelled at all their skill places, not just a few, leaving others into frustration.Three...he counted the twelve shining stars in the north part of the sky. He had to get in touch with his third person. That is what it is truely all about he told himself. The fourth circle was a dreadful place to be for him, Dorian, young and restless...he wanted to move on. He wanted to be part of the third circle.He wasn't getting anywhere. He felt frustrated, nauseated, because you see, the fourth circle is the Circle of Self. You must conquer yourself to move on. But the only way to conquer yourself is to be at peace with yourself, and finding inner peace is hard for someone at such a time. Dorian looked foreward to Gael as a time to move on. The inner circles were bustling, in preparation for the Teaching week, which is the week before Gael starts. The Choosing was always a looked foreward to process, in all the circles, even though it is considered to be mainly the Third Circle's holiday. Before Gael the inner circles come to the outer circles in Kelethian and teach them what they have found through Magick and the Choosing thus commences. After the Teaching, the Mages from the outer circles go forth throughout Foth and give the elven people's their Gifts, also in search of the Chosen. They search far and wide...and in most places, the Druidic Elven Mages are welcomed warmly into the Elf Kingdoms and Cities and Villages (as smaller civilizations tend toward the Mountains). But in some places the Dark Elves still thrive, it is there that the Druidic Elven Mages are hunted, systematically and tortured and murdered and Gael, though a celebration, is usually spattered with casualties.

Gael was coming up and it was time to prepare for Fael, which is to undo all that Gael works for...to capture the Chosen and any who sought to help them. Fael is a Dark Elven holiday. The Dark Elves are a rebel race that primarily believe that the Druidic Elves, or the Light Elves (of course they don't call themselves 'light' because all light is attributed to Rheay, so there can be no "Light Elves" only "Dark" Elves and "Druidic" Elves. ) have gone mad. These Dark Elves seek not to kill, but rather to "educate" the Chosen. Their means of education, however, are more like means of persuasion, and their means of persuasion are more....like torture,

Everyone had heard the stories. Dorian sometimes heard the screaming. He always wondered about the screaming. He didn't know where it came from. He didn't know whose screams they were. He could tune them out after a while...but he only could do this with an extreme amount of patience and concentration...he exerted such little control over his telepathy. He went into his room. He sat on his elven bed and began to meditate. "Al-cul-mulia, Yae undures. Yae vieres ul-mulia. Tor quen tiros exeiel. Fer-tem-pries, empulnei" He chanted his song, meaning 'Come near me, you from the sky. Listen to me, you Voices. Be quiet and leave. This is said, be at peace.' He chanted this over and over and over until the voices were gone.

Dorian closed his eyes and gave into slumber. The screaming returned. He found himself in a dark place inside his dream. He called on the Star of Luthilie, his birthstar. No light came into his dream. He called on the Star of Shingmair. A little light was given, but he could not see where the tortured screams were emitted from. He called on Monitha, the Moonchild. A silvery light was cast. He found himself in an empty room. There was an inch of water on the floor. It was slippery and cold. The screams stopped suddenly. The voices cried out. And there was silence, nothing but the dripping sound that is made in such dank places. Dorian left the room. "No more knowledge will be given to me here," he knew. He found his Place. His homeland in Foth. He found a quiet place by the trees where he could come and think a while in peace about his last dream. He spent the rest of the night here. He awoke. You see, days can pass, weeks can pass, months and even years can pass within the elven dreamworld. They are wonderful lucid dreamers, controlling every fleeting action and every circumstance. But Dorian wished to return to his Reality in the Fourth Circle so that he could ask the elder elves about these dreams and about his Voices.

Dorian approached the Elden Chamber apprehensively. He wasn't sure what to say, but he just knew he had to speak up about this disturbance. He did not knock, but went into Methusael's home and sat on the floor (you see, knocking is considered to be rude...it breaks whatever concentration the Elder is concentrating on) next to Methusael, who was deep in concentration about something. "I knew you would come," Methusael said knowingly."I know" Dorian answered, and as according to custom asked "What sayeth the wind today?""May your days be lighted by Rheay, your hair be blown by Wind, and your nights guided by your stars""So the wind is in our favor?" asked Dorian."That it is," Said Methusael, "But you did not come to ask me about the wind, have you?""No I have not, I have come to ask about the Voices.""Have they been telling you things that you wish not to be told?""No. They have been screaming. They have been crying. They have been in agony.""Have you been agitating them? Clear your mind...such things are usually brought on by self agitation, and go away as soon as you meditate...." The old man was stern, perhaps even stodgy when it came to the practice of meditation. So few realize the value it has, he would say, and he would have no pity for people who didn't clear their minds, for the Fourth Circle was about Clearing the Mind."But I have...deeply.""Where did it take you?""Someplace dark.""It is obviously nothing serious, you are merely anxious of the oncoming Gael. Yae Vieres ul-mulia. Leave this one alone, he is young, he has other things to focus on, if there is something that needs to be spoken, tell me, or another Elder. Fer-tem-pries, empulnei. Come and sit with me, Dorian, and we shall gaze into your mind.""The voices have gone, you've sent them from me.""That is good. It is better for that.""But I wanted to find out what they were screaming about. You know as well as I do the stories about Voices that Scream and what must be done about it.""Stories are stories and there are other ways of approaching things. You are young, you are restless and ready to dive head first into everything that has crossed your path, this is why you are in the Fourth Circle...to break this from you, the way to be a Druid is to be Wise.""And I am learning, but I learn better with, hands on experience.""It is your choice to take or leave my advice but don't expect to be welcome when you come, not wishing for my advice but rather my ideas on your headaches.""I'm sorry, I meant no offence. Gerendia.""Gerendia-teuro. You've been dreaming then?""Yes.""Someplace dark?" Dorian was silent, but Methuselah knew his answer. "It is nothing. Do not worry about it.""I'm losing control of my dreams then as well?""No, but the Voices are getting the better of you, leading you where you need not go. It is out of your hands. Someday it may be up to you to do things your way, but until then you are only a Listener, and a Listener who listens to the Voices but not to his Teachers." He cleared his throat, trying not to be so rough sounding. "It is time for Scepha"Scepha is a hot drink that relaxes and revitalizes the Elves at the same time. It is had at Gatherings to clear the mind, but it also has a great deal of healing qualities, bitter smell, but doesn't taste all that horrible.

Methuselah left Dorian in the Elden Chamber. Dorian was deep in thought and meditation, another world, in fact. Methuselah went into the next chamber. "I fear what he's seen," he said to the old, long-beirded elf that stood before him.
"I have felt the knowledge of what it is too..." the Elf replied to him.
"A calling for help, I think."
"We should use him in Gael this year then. They're calling to him."
"He's so young though, he has so much to learn and so much training to complete. As his advisor and teacher I can't possibly send him to Gael."
"It isn't about what you think is best. It is what is the want of Rheay."
"You think he's a link?"
"No. But I think that he could become a link..."
"There hasn't been a link in our people for an age or more."
"This I know."
"There isn't enough time to prepare him for Gael."
"Send others with him. He will lead them. They will find the Callers..."
"He doesn't even know what he's hearing."
"So teach him..."

Methuselah and Dorian sat down together after meditating for a few minutes. "I'm going to have to ask you to pack. You have to go with a group being prepared for you for Gael.""Wh-wh-at?" he stuttered, surprised and delighted. "What?" he said after a breath, more calmly."If it were up to me, I wouldn't send you, but after much thought and meditation" he stressed the word meditation, out of the habit of teaching, "they have decided that it is for the better." he paused again, closed his eyes and bowed his head deeply. Dorian did the same. Their thoughts were interlinked, and Dorian gave a start. "I have to train...like that??" He asked...having seen it in his teacher's head. Methuselah just smiled and nodded.Within an hour, Dorian found himself running through Kelethian, pacing himself but making haste. He ran the circumference of the Fourth circle, up and down the stone and wood streets, onto the elevated part of the city, up stone stairs to where the trees are. It was a long run and he was breathing heavily, an elven sweat glistened down his face and he found himself drained of energy at the end. Methuselah caught hold of his arm as he lay, after his run, at the front entryway of the Chamber where he and other elves stayed the night, and had closed his eyes looking for his Place, but Methuselah brought him back into the reality of where he was and led him inside. "This is ul-scepha," he said handing Dorian one of his own glasses containing water, and added a blue powder from a small leather pouch he kept in his robes. "It will rejuvinate you and also help you have less soreness." He smiled and for a moment Dorian thought that he was relishing this moment...it was just then that Katameru walked in the door. Katameru was a well-known strength trainer. The sixth circle had been his dwelling as a Mage Teacher, he was a ruthless teacher when it came to teaching defense and strength training. "Hello, Dorian Silverstar" He said when Dorian wished more than anything to make an audible groan. Methuselah was watching, and he didn't want to be impolite. How can this be happening. I passed the second circle years ago. I breeched the connection between my mind and body years ago. I don't need this right now. "He is going to be your teacher, as well as me, for a few months. You will need to be at the top of your strength to fight foe that may be greater than you." Dorian mumbled something, but Methuselah allowed it to go. "I'll be leaving you two." And he did, leaving Katameru and Dorian alone in the Younger Chamber. Katameru was the first to speak. "You do know that we will have to go to the sixth circle." Dorian nodded, said nothing and, exhausted still, followed Katameru out of the Chamber and into the Streets of Kelethian.

It was later that night when Dorian was back in his own chamber, exhausted, he did an unelvish thing by slumping down onto his mat, falling into DeepSleep before he even hit the floor. Dorian closed his eyes and gave into slumber. The screaming began immediately, not like before. It used to start being far off. But this time it was closer. Louder. He found himself in the same Dark Place. His elven eyes detected movement in the shadows, but nothing that he could make out."Kala duluthu Shingmir" He spoke. "Monitha" He spoke again, each time the bubble of light forming around him got a little brighter. He began to see the walls, the corners. He picked up his feet and splashed back down into the cold water, which was now up to his ankles. He walked to the nearest wall in the perfectly square shaped room. It was cold, wet, stone. The screams continued to echo, voices...indecipherable. Where were they coming from? He thought to himself. Something dripped next to him. The light was fading. "The moon must be going down" he thought. "It is time for me to awaken." He breathed and used his mind to force his consiousness out of the dream. But he was unable to wake up. In Dorians chamber, Methusehlah was pacing. One thing kept crossing his mind."they are taking him".



Scribblings from the Past If you know little of the Elven culture, I'll explain it to you. IN every elf-kingdom, there is an elf king, and every elf-king has two elf-counselmen. This avoids political conflicts, for the elf-king settles any dispute. THere are different types of elves: forest-elves, sea-elves, mountain-elves, stone-elves, sun-elves, moon-elves, ice-elves, and dark-elves. Dark evlces are the only evil elves, and they live deep underground, much like the impish clever goblins. But this story isn't about them, although they appear in it from time to time. THIS story is about a young sun-elf named Enriel. Enriel was the most beautiful of the sun elves, and most of these elves loved her dearly. When this beautiful young elf-maiden turned 16, the very magical age, she was invited to the celebration of the return of Ignatios, and his son, Lothian. All the elves in the kingdom were invited. Understandibly, Enriel was very enthralled about her invitation, and in the entire week, 'ere the feast, she was very busy sewing and merrily singing as she sewed. The night of the feast was upon her, and she was creating a beautiful gown to wear to the ceremony. It had the light of moonshadows and blue flames of a burning pheonix woven into it's magical fabric. It was a fabric that the elves called "linnen" named much like our own "linen" but it was much different in character. It had a thinness to it, a lightness, though the flames of a pheonix could make it warm for a chill that brushes the air. It is not of this world, the elvish linnen'sn't. You could not see through it, for it was so tightly woven, but it was so thin and light that it almost seemed as smoke to the touch. The gown was completed, and she and her sun-sisters went to the sun-king and welcomed him most graciously. Ignatios had been to the forestlands and the sealands, to conference about the growing threat of the dark elves in Lower Foth, the problem of the increase in number of human children being stolen by those mischievious sprites and faeries, and to cover for the sunelf-children who had recently developed an ability to send down rains of fire on the sea elves, which boil them up a bit, and on the ice elves, which make their houses melt a bit...all in the name of good fun, you see, but things had gotten out of hand and the children needed a strict talking to. But that would come later. Today was a day to celebrate the good Ignatios' return.