Merelas

*Wishes the new family happy days... May the sun always smile down upon you, and the wind be ever at your back. Congratulations!

This was really good! I was drawn to it, and I'm glad that I did read it, because it was well worth it. The only thing I would note is, while the scheme of A/B/A/B (with the "A" lines being exactly the same) works very well towards the beginning of the poem, it seems to draw away from the overall sense at the end. I find myself wondering what the terrible night brought to darken your door... and that I enjoyed this piece, verily! Good luck on your application! Hoping to see you around other areas while you wait -Merelas

WELL DONE! This was quite new for me also... you get used to having arrows, rather than bullets (or lasers, in this case) but this was a very nice change! I agree completely with Sorciere. Give us more!!

"Me? Me? I'm me, of course!" Merelas said, with a giggle... his eyes focused and unfocused, and his head drooped to his chest. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" cried the druid who had been attending him, striding towards the incoherent Merelas, and slapping him, sending a surge of magical energy through him as he did so, which rejuvinated his understanding and ability to think. "Oh!" he exclaimed. Unfortunately, that crash back to earth had also brought back his senses, and with that, pain. Accordingly, he grimaced, and then put on a strong face for the crowd. "I suppose that I had better introduce myself and explain my actions. My name is Merelas en'Bella, and I am of a race that I would expect none to know. The hidden fire-elves of Leyànnèdel are my kin, although my father was a human. As such, I can manipulate the powers of fire, but have very little other magical skill, as well as absolutely no skill with a weapon. I suppose, if you were to give me a profession, you would have to call me an Elementalist, rather than a mage... "The fire you saw, Winged Lady, was of my creation, as you surmised. I did so of no intent on my part, but merely in battle with the remains of the phantasm mage you found on the site. I suppose it was rather wreckless and destructive of me... but, at the time, I did not think of it that way. In answer to what I believe your next question will be... I cannot tell you his name, or what he was an enemy for... suffice it to say that he was a proponent of Evil... and therefore, he found justice by my hand." With that, he looked around, before continuing. "Eventually, I woke after the battle, and fled the flames, although they were not likely to harm me, being half a fire-elf. I wandered hither and yon, until eventually reaching this... hostel? Yes, this hostel. I collapsed outside, my strength giving out. Not knowing how long it would be until someone came upon me. I launched a flare into the air... and apparently, it went astray and burst through one of the windows of this lovely estate. I give my apologies for any damage I have caused, and pledge to you that it was of no intent of my own. If I am no longer welcome, I will gladly pay for my keep until I am well enough to be on my way... or, if you prefer, I suppose I could take my leave immediately..." Merelas looked around at those near him, and hoped to find some words of acceptance among them... and eventually, permission to rest.

mmm... perhaps I strung that sentence out too long and added too many adjectives. I meant that, aside from the bible, Common Sense was the first book that was widely read among colonists... the first "best-seller", you could say. Also, that it was written in plain and simple English (not so many flourishes), and it was easy for the common man to read. The bible, of course, does not directly impart the knowledge that the 13 Colonies should separate from Mother England. However, there were many biblical references in the Declaration of Independance, and the common Christian virtues were put in mind when the constitution, as well as the early amendments to that constitution were framed. Though, that was not what I was arguing about in my first post. Please excuse me for any confusion I have caused.

I... needed that, somehow. I don't know how else to say it... but it was very, very good. Thank you for sharing.

Happy birthday, Racouol. May it be a marvelous day for you!

You are so lucky to have such a blue voice in your life. This poem is striking. I cannot think of a better word for it. This is so striking, that I am forced to see that through all pain comes vision. If you learn from an experience, and use it to face the future, then nothing has been lost... save maybe a little pride. Keep your chin up, kiddo... and post some more writing like this

No apology necessary... we all lose our muse every now and then

Oh dear... I do believe I've posted my critique in the wrong place... hmm... Sorry for the clutter, Appy... feel free to report it, if you like.

I appreciate your comment, Troubled Sleep, and I apologize for the slowness of the continuations. The addition I did post the other night was also tiny, and there should be more coming soon, now that I've completed some duties to Hostel Thanks again for reading!

That is excellent... I can't imagine how it doesn't sing well, because it was obviously meant as a song. I have my own personal tune, of course... but you know how it goes. You cant read a tune Keep it up!

Merelas walks by the table, gives Regel a little wave, and keeps on going, while still wondering silently what the event on the 22nd had caused such an excellent poem to be written...

Merelas sputtered, then stirred, then finally, after several false alarms, awoke. The space around him came crashing into view, along with the terrible, chilling pain. "Oomph!" he cried, as he attempted to get up, and was "helped" back to the floor by either the Druid-type man above him, or the half-elf that looked vaguely familliar, but whose name escaped him at the moment. "Wha... where am I?" he queried, still rubbing the sleep and pain out of his eyes. "You are in the Hostel of Salinye Celestialgrace, and I do suggest you lie back down before you get your fool self killed!" said the unfamilliar man above him, and he did so, quickly, while they completed the things that they could do to help his health at the moment. As they did that, Gyrfalcon attempted to keep his mind off of the pain by making conversation... as well as satisfying his curiosity. "What happened to you? How did you get these injuries?" the ranger asked, still aiding the druid with his work. "I..." started Merelas, but he stopped before he could say that he didn't know... it had been that blue mage... everything was fuzzy, and he couldn't really think that well, but he supposed that he should explain his condition to those that had saved his life. "I was fighting a blue mage... an old rival, you might say, and he sent all these ice-bolts at me, and one Glacial spike that I think gave me internal damage... I got chills all over me after that, and it was like I was moving at half speed, but I'm fairly certain that he's dead now... sadly, along with half the forest to the south... someone should do something about that fire, I suppose..." he said, his voice trailing off at the end. "Why did you send that flare through the window?" "I collapsed near the... hostel, did you call it? Yes, I collapsed outside, and I knew I was falling unconscious... I hadn't meant to break the window, just get someone's attention that might be willing to help... I suppose it was rather stupid of me, come to think of it... although it did probably save my life... ouch, damn it!" he said, as the druid singed his skin as he healed. The herbalist gave a rough apology, before continuing. "Who is this... Celeste Salinthingy? And... why has she taken me in?" he asked, lying on the floor... but the half elf--Whatshisfalcon, Merelas thought--only shrugged. And there, the conversation sort of lulled... that is, until the simultaneous conversation that Tamaranis and Salinye had been having ended, and the latter bustled over with a quite frazzled (although supremely competent) look about her.

Merelas sits quietly in a corner, watching every intricate but subtle movement Yui-temae made with great interest. The manipulation of the Shadow paths was something that he had never seen before, but had heard tell of, and he was greatly interested in the way it was done. As he did so, he clutched his moderately sized package with great care. The gift had taken a very long time to create, beginning with the melting of the sand and turning it to glass with a fine clarity, exerting hour upon hour of manipulation of the element of fire on the sand, calling down a continuous inferno upon the beach where he had generated the glass. Then, when he finally had a suitable piece of glass with which to work, Merelas rested for a day before continuing. He then placed the glass under continual heat, separating it into two pieces, then into four. Each piece he then placed inside a ball of fire, twisting the heat, forming the pieces of glass into wine goblets. At no point had anyone (or anything, save the fire) except himself touched these four wine goblets. He had also brought one bottle of Elderberry wine as a coupling to the goblets to give to Brute, which Merelas' father had bottled before he died, almost 40 years ago. While relatively young, the wine had an excellent bite, and cleansed the palatte well, if it accompanied a meal... although Merelas somehow doubted that it would need accompaniment, since he was giving it to Brute. As he traversed the shadow paths he was so interested in, he clutched the package tightly, hoping that the four glasses and the bottle were save within the bubble-wrap and foam peanuts inside the box. And as soon as they arrived, he set the gift down amongst the others, and placed a card on top of it with Brute's name on it. Brute, Here's wishing you have a very happy birthday, and that people besides me brought booze, because I know that this won't last!! Your Old Friend, Merelas And then, he circulated throughout the party, mainly watching, but engaging in conversation occasionally.

Excellent work. I'm very impressed. I especially like the fact that you posted the Dutch Version... I don't know dutch, but reading it in it's original tongue, and then going back to the translation was just... special

Ah, Common Sense... Groundbreaking work encouraging the Revolution... First book (other than the bible, of course) that was written in plain, simple language, and told the common man why the 13 colonies should separate from Mother England... Brilliant. Simply Brilliant.

Aptly named, well executed. I enjoyed this, although the sadness does permeate it eventually. Even so, emotion cannot overcome talent... or maybe it can. What do I know? I would love to read more.

Excellent poem!! I especially enjoyed the last stanza. Happy is good!! Keep up the good work!

Sad and beautiful all at the same time. Some of the spelling/grammar could be revised, but hey... it was excellent all the same. I was taken by the reality of this poem as well... Because, escaping the pain by writing, or playing, or whatever your personal route is, is something that is very close to home for many... Keep writing, because I was sincerely touched by this and can't wait to feel the same again .

Hmmm.. This is an excellent question... I'll have to be watching for more of these. I am in a unique situation. I believe that God has shown me my path throughout life (more or less), and that I will face certain situations. I know my career, what I will do, and what is expected of me. My greatest fear is that I am not strong enough to accomplish it... that I am too weak to carry out His task. Of course, this makes me a hypocrite, because I should simply take comfort in the thought that, with Him, all things are possible. Contrarily, it's easier said than done. So there's that roundabout thingamajig for you.

This is excellent... *is slightly unsettled* It is very chilling, but it is quite excellent as well. Some of my favorite aspects-- First, where he scorns his fellow vampires and "showed them what true blood-drinking was like". That was very well thought. Second, the fact that he shatters superstition by having a cross around his neck, and how he tore it from the priest's neck. That was my favorite part, probably... Chilling, but very good Write more! Encore, encore!

"BASTARD!" thought Merelas. The man cackled, and his anger only rose higher and higher. An ice bolt flew out of nowhere and slammed into his side. The ice penetrated his skin like a dagger, chilling him, but at the same time fueling his fury. With a mighty roar, he twirled his staff, held out a hand, and sprayed liquid fire from is fingertips in a circle around him. If only he could find the man, it would be a simple task to destroy him. The blood was seeping from his wound now, and he tried not to concentrate on it. Instead, he closed his eyes, held both is arms out to his sides (staff clasped in the left hand) and called upon the powers of fire. If the mage had hit him then, it would've been the end. But he cackled instead. Merelas suddenly brought his arms in to clutch his staff with both hands, spun it above his head, and pointed it in the direction that he had heard the sound. An inferno suddenly sprang up, at least twenty feet square, and burning trees, undergrowth, and hopefully the ice-mage. Satisfyingly, a scream came from the area. The man hurriedly took flight then, and Merelas followed his ascent with his keen eyesight. He could still see him, and he had the perfect counter for this action... Wham. The blue mage hadn't waited for him to counter. He had turned, but barely, for another spear of ice to strike him in the shoulder, but this one was enchanted. He felt himself slowing down, and hurriedly grasped the ice shaft and pulled. It came out with a sickening, horrifying wrench of pain. Merelas collapsed to the ground, and vomitted. He nearly lost consciousness there, but forced the light to refocus with his energy. Quickly, he looked to the sky again, still bleeding from both wounds, and sighted the man. I'll get you yet. I've got you in my sights, you... scum!, he thought, at a loss for what exactly to defame the man with. But I must press on!, he thought urgently, and so he continued, still keeping the mage in his sights, who was circling back now, a bit burned, and flying crookedly. He summoned all of his strength, stood up, and thumped the ground with his staff, thrust it up into the air, and slammed it back down again. He began to chant quickly and powerfully in his native tongue, and he felt it coming. He's getting closer... I hope to all the Gods and Goddesses that be that the paths cross... And then, when the man was no more than one hundred feet away, but still in the air, a huge meteor dropped from the sky on top of him, propelling him down into the ground in a smoldering heap, and burying him alive. Merelas collapsed. A few hours later, he woke weak and malnourished. The massive battle had left him drained, wounded, and hungry. He had to move. As much as the prospect of it seemed impossible, he had to, or the mage would have succeeded in taking him to his grave with him. He struggled to his feet, and tread onward, using his staff for support, not paying attention to where his ragged steps were taking him. Eventually, he looked up, and saw a looming building. It appeared to be some kind of a guest house, and that was exactly what he needed. As he struggled towards the door, his legs gave way, and he realized that he could not make it. In a last hope to at least alert someone of his presence, he sent a flare towards the building, and heard the crash of glass shattering, as it proceeded through a window. At least they would find him. What they did with him, he wouldn't know until he woke... If I wake, that is... he thought, almost jokingly, before losing all consciousness.

If anyone reads this, I would like to point out that I have added to the prologue in The Council, and am planning further refurbishment throughout the story. Thanks for your help, Orlan... you sorta kicked me into the editing process

An excellent work. The thoughts behind it, although very sad, are also very true. Stories like this of abuse happen all too often in our society, and I thank you for reminding us to be careful, and always watchful for the signs of abuse in the lives of those around us... or even in our own. Very well done, Arwen, and keep writing!