By Ember

Author's Notes: Like the title? ^_^ Yes, this is a little bit o' fiction by me, Ember, giving the remainder of Kelyan and Haldor's lives. If you are confused about who Kelyan and Haldor are, and don't know why there is a smiley after the comment about the title, sign off the internet now and buy ElvenBane by Mercedes Lackey. Oh, and by the way? I never read the third book. Heh... So this takes place between the second and third, okay?

Warnings- NewFound Glory is blaring- beware! This is likely to impact my thoughts! Ah, and violence, Shonen Ai (guy/guy love, yaoi, call it whatever you like.) sexual content, sexual humor, profanity... ah, you've got it. ^_^

Disclaimer- None! That's right- I own the ElvenBane chronicles! (Naw, just shitting with you. The topic's copyright to Mercedes Lackey...)

Chapter 1

I can't remember the time or place Or what you were wearing It's unclear about how we met All I know it was the best conversation I ever had To this day I never found someone With eyes as wide as your's I've been searching up and down this coast Overlooking what I need the most Did you notice I was afraid I thought I'd run out of things to say Two more hours until today Burns this away And it starts all over again The sky will never look the same again Until you show me how it could be.

-NewFound Glory, The Story So Far

These plains are long and, no matter what the chronicles say, they are NOT flat. I know- every time one of the cattle spook, the wagon half-falls, half-rolls down the continuous hills, down through the thick grass and over the rocks that are wedged tightly into the thirsty earth. The earth, the humans say, has been thirsty for a long time.

But the hills. Every time we roll down them, something is knocked out of place, something is broken, somebody is knocked over into someone else's lap. But... we'll get in to that later, shall we?

I had at least a few possessions, all of which are broken now, when I went into these cursed plains. Heh. That's a story. How could I be stupid enough to go alone? There had been a fad for rubies, then, and I thought to find some and get rich quick, get a few slaves and recline in luxury until my life drained away. Maybe I could go to Council- but that wouldn't be any fun. No, I just wanted a quick pocketful of gold, and I wanted it easy.

They called me Kelyon el-lord Kresser, but it wasn't worth a rat's ass back then and isn't worth anything, now. I'm just Kelyon, now. Perhaps someday, I'll make up a last name, and live with those two, like the humans and halfbloods. But maybe not.

I rode on horseback, the way the humans traveled, because I could barely cast an illusion and sure as hell couldn't make my way through the plains with magic. Couldn't count on me pulling through with some miracle- I guess you still can't. The horse didn't really have a name, and I suppose it would be redundant to say that it no longer lives. No shit. But it wandered for a long, long time, and I was thirsty and that, too, was Dyran's fault, because of his weather-fucking that screwed up the whole damn world. This is all Dyran's fault.

It was his fault my family's shit. His fault I needed money, his fault I was trudging through the plains. It's his fault the ElvenBane exists, though that- that is an unconscious mistake. It's his damn fault elves grow old and die, and humans have wizard-power, that the alicorns kill things and the dragons can shape-shift. Lord Dyran.

So you understand the story so far- thirsty, tired, far from home, and the damned horse had it's won damned head because I didn't know where I was going any more than it, even if I had the strength to guide it. I didn't even notice the damned dustball until it was on top of me, and then what the hell was I going to do? Cloak it with an illusion to make it look like a rock and hope it walked away, dumbfounded? The horse spooked, and I let it run, because what else was I going to do? But the damned Hell-cattle overtook me, tossing those huge, wicked horns, and... bellowing at the sky and at me.

I didn't even notice there were people on their backs at first, until I took another look. Would you be looking at their backs when you had rock- hard hooves and two-foot horns to contend with? They were humans- after all, they sure as hell weren't elves. Black-pelted humans dressed in bright fabric and shouting commands while bringing spears to bear. There was quite a bit of shouting, yelling, cursing, while they gained on me, shouting in some complex language of grunts and gimmerish, not the proper elven tongue that the bronze humans spoke in. I always had thought that their skin was odd, going gold in the sun...

Those cows, nothing but livestock to the elves, possessed both greater speed and twice the endurance of my horse- it was shot out from under me with a pathetic wail, and I tossed head over heels. When my head cleared, I was surrounded by the humans, all abroad the huge bulls and all looking very, very grave, with their awful, bulky muscles, deep brown skin the color of the darker cattle, black eyes, and long, very serious spears. Very, very serious. And, as always, my magic was failing me- no matter what I threw at these people, it bounced off without leaving a mark!

I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I can confidently report that it almost definitely had "green-eyed demon" in nine out of ten statements. These people just had no words in their vile tongue for "elf," or "lord." Lord would have sounded nice...

Anyway, they gathered up the carcass of my horse, looking at me warily as if expecting me to kill them for touching the body, as if I had some human sentiment; but there was mockery in those eyes, too, mockery that sure as hell didn't fade when I was, before I could blink, put in a metal collar that itched and burned terribly, with a long, cumbersome chain tethering me to the air. I was taken to a gaudy, huge tent and introduced to a human who watched me as if expecting me to stab him for being human. Of course, the temptation was there, and awfully nagging at that... But of course, I didn't exactly expect to be harried by wild humans on this little endeavor, and wasn't armed.

I was led to another tent, another of these stupid human fabric-manors, with their pointed tips and too-fancy interior, as if someone had gotten it into their mind to send a gorgeous glamorie into a deserted forest. There, as in the black-human's tent, I was not alone- but this time I had unexpected company.

"Welcome to Hell," said the elf, in the proper elven tongue.

His name was Sir Haldor el-lord Braul, and unlike me, he flaunted those meaningless titles with equally meaningless pride. He told me what these people were, assured me they fed us, told me about the illusions they expected us to do, informed me coldly what happened if you didn't, and told me that aside from this, he didn't know WHAT was going on. He had been here for, maybe, a year- when you're nowhere with wild barbarians, you don't exactly know the time or date.

Aside from that, he didn't talk much. Even though he had only been here for a little while, for an elf, I believe the work and captivity hurt him, hurt his mind. Humans often went insane, and Lord damned Dyran was well-known for his occasional bouts of madness. But I had never been trapped with one.

I learned their language, roughly, in about a month- I guess Haldor didn't care much about it, because he didn't bother learning it until it was a handicap not to know it. But I didn't- don't- like captivity. And so was born, then fledged, escape plan one.

After all, why not? This just proved human stupidity; they had locked me to a weapon! Haldor wanted nothing to do with me, but that was fine- I might come back for him, with an army- the leader of the attack against the wild humans! Chain in hand, I bolted.

Or- well, I tried to bolt. I got about halfway through the herds of cattle before the humans saw me, and called out to each other. I wasn't fluent in this tongue, yet, so I didn't catch all the words, but there was plenty of the phrase "green eyed demon" in it. They say that a lot, these humans. With their spears raised, they hounded me, two on those damned bulls and two on foot. Both parties ran faster than I did, after all, I was an elf, not one of the muscular Iron People. I whirled on them, a wide grin on my face, and whipped my chain at the first one.

Perhaps I would have taken him out if he had been a bit closer, if only for the element of surprise. As it was, he intercepted my chain, waiting for the metal locks to wrap around the spear butt he had blocked the strike with, and calmly jerked forward until I sprawled onto the ground. He muttered something to me, something that sounded like "Escape not try, green-eyed demon," as the other of the foot-bound warriors positioned his spear at the back of my neck. With my neck burning in humiliation and the pain of being jerked around by it, I gathered all the power I could unleash, and threw it at the damned human who was pulling my chain off of his spear to drag me by it. It did nothing, or course, on his skin, but his eyes flashed in fury at my attempt.

"Green eyed demon, we something not when fallen we are. Something magic something something Hell." These words were spat with the deepest contempt as he pulled my chain forward, trying to get me to stumble. A spear butt was jabbed into my ribs, and the sharp pain leapt through my torso.

"Shit!"

The human smiled as I began to limp, my eyes burning hate. I hated humans. I hated them all with a loathing as deep as anything I had ever possessed. In that moment, if I had a choice between the War Chief Loki or Dyran dying in a sudden, violent eruption, Dyran would have to wait for his comeuppance.