The Stolen Princess

The children gathered in the small garden in Felwithe where lazy bumblebees buzzed around Hollyhocks and gay butterflies flitted from rose to rose.

Tell us another story, Sylvene."

"The one of the Dragon Hunt!"

"No. The one of the captured Princess."

"The Dragon! The Dragon!"

"But I haven't heard the one of the Princess!"

"Ow! Stop pushing."

"She pinched me!"

Sylvene smiled and put down her embroidery.

"Now, little ones… do not push and pinch each other. If you quiet down and I shall tell you the tale of the captured Princess. Since little Frostling here hasn't heard it before."

Her eyes turned a little misty as she looked over her garden and began.

"Once upon a time, there was an Elven Princess. One who loved life and enjoyed it to the fullest. She was gay of heart and soul. She had a heart of love for all she met, even the ones who disliked her. She forgave them and went on her way without care or worry. Thusly, she gained the hatred of many. For there are the evil ones who hate, and those sour of heart who were jealous of her.

She held Festivals and invited all to attend. The Dark as well as the Light. A truce would be declared on those days so that the Dark and the Light could learn each other's languages and trade with each other. Friendly tourneys were held in the Arena so that skills could be tested and champions decided.

But it was such fair doings that had the Dark ones muttering. The evil sought to sow confusion and mistrust amongst the Light. So they stole the Princess."


"How did they steal the Princess?"

Sylvene smiled and looked at the eager faces.

"They waited and they watched. The Princess was young and well, foolish in many ways. She did not believe that she was in danger from the various vague threats that had been made. Although she could have had many brave and fearsome protectors if she so wished, she preferred to go hunting with her boon companions of her own age and rank. She was not a weak maiden. Indeed, she had much fire in her heart and soul.

She was hunting with her half-elven brother when…"


"Shhhh…. Don't interrupt!"

"Yes, children."

The high-elf nodded at the youngsters at her feet.

"Half-elven. The Princess had a heart large enough and love enough that she called a half-elf her brother and a wood-elf her sister."


The children's eyes grew large.

"My mummy says that high-elves are the best!"

Sylvene chuckled and folded the embroidery in her lap before she continued.

"Perhaps they are… perhaps… But I am sure Trolls think they are the best. And Ogres think they are the best."




"Tell the story!"

"Aye… the story. Well, the Princess was hunting with her half-elven brother. Jantis Eorle he was called. A Bard of the finest measure. He always made her laugh, for he had a sparkling wit and a happy mien. He could tell the finest stories and make up the best songs and ditties. He was also fearsome in his battle skills. He had songs to heal and songs to destroy."

Oh! A Bard!"

"No wonder he was Half-elven. We do not have Bards."

Sylvene smiled again.

"No, we do not. The High Elves do not choose that following. We prefer the Magics and the holy orders. Sometimes I wonder why. Some of the other…"

“The story, please."

"Please Sylvene… tell the story."

"Very well… you do not wish to listen to me prate of our prejudices. The story. Where was I?"

"The Bard!"

The children chorused.

"Ah yes. The valiant Bard. The Princess and the Bard were hunting in the East Commonlands. In the bright clear of the day. They encountered many friendly folk, and were stopped by a Human, dressed in the robes of the Mages. They stopped to speak with him and a Wood-elf maiden came by. A strange encounter, for they thought her their friend, yet she trained a dread skeleton upon them. The Bard handily destroyed the skeleton with the help of the Human. But while his back was turned, two Dark Elves and an Ogre snatched the Princess away. She screamed and fought, throwing her very best spells and piercing them with her dagger, but alas, they were three to her one person. The Bard sprang valiantly to her rescue, but the Human struck him in the back, a mortal blow. The Human was on the side of the Dark. He was a… "

Her voice dropped to a whisper, drawing the children into the suspense.

"Necromancer! One who learned the dark magicks. One who prayed to Innoruuk, the dread Lord."


"Oh no!"

"Oh yes! The Bard was slain! The Princess fought harder than ever, calling out to her friends and champions. She tore lose from her captors and in an effort to gain time, ran into the Nektulos Forest."

"Ohhh... Nektulos..."

"Yes… The forest. The Dark one where little elven children should not venture. There are many evil creatures there to steal your lives and your souls. The Princess cried for help and many were those that answered her. Many were those that came running to her rescue, but all for naught. For she was taken. Bound and gagged, into the depths of the Nektulos Forest, and into the dungeons of Neriak. City of the Dark Elves."

"No! Not Neriak!"


Sylvene's gaze went over the children's heads, her eyes losing their focus, and then she shook her head and continued the story.

"Aye. Neriak. The third gate. She was taken to the Cathedral and chained there."

"Oh! How did she escape?"

"Did her champions rescue her from Neriak?"

"Did the High Elves storm Neriak, kill all the Dark ones and free her?"

"Nay… they did not. Her champions did not rescue her from Neriak, for they could not find her there. Before they arrived, she had been moved. It was a plot you see. One to destroy the Light. The Dark sought to confuse and sow discord among the Light. And for a time, they succeeded. They tortured the Princess and taunted the Light with her death and resurrection. They demanded a King's ransom for her return, but never planned to return her even if their ransom were met. Finally, they demanded a champion to fight for her soul. For the privilege of retrieving her broken body. Oh, there was much dispute and discord amongst the Light, for many wished to champion their Princess. They could not agree if they should pay the ransom or if they should send a strike force to bring her back. Some even wanted to leave her with her captors, arguing that one elf was not worth the trouble or the price.

The arena chosen was in the middle of Lake Rathetear. A veritable fortress where the Dark forces assembled knew they could not be ambushed. It was a formidable place. With large stones stained with countless eons of blood sport. There was only one entrance, and there was a throne in this Arena. One where they placed the Princess upon. Mocking her and taunting the Light, for through the single entrance, they could see the Princess on the throne and hear her cries as they struck and hurt her."

"Oh… poor Princess."

"Shhh… I want to hear of the battle."

"And that you shall, child."

Sylvene ruffled the light hair of the young elf and continued.

"Aye the forces of the dark were formidable indeed. There were many Trolls and Ogres there that day, as well as Dark Elves. And they waited there. Waited for the Light to come to the place of slaughter. General Remen of Safe Haven tried to negotiate with the forces of Dark but e'en as he did so, a brash monk rushed in. Ah! She was so anxious to save her Princess. But the moment she kicked a Troll, cries of treachery rang through the arena. The Dark forces slaughtered the General where he stood and his forces charged in. Chaos ensued. Truly… at that time, the Princess despaired.

The Light forces charged into the Arena, not as one unified body, but were much like small stinging sand flies in the face of the Dark solidarity.

To punish the Light for their treachery, the Princess was beaten in front of her would-be rescuers, and her screams rang out amidst the cries of battle.

The bloodbath and the cries of the Dark soon brought their Dark God Mage. Aradiel. Ah… how he tempted the Princess.

"Take my hand child, accept the embrace of the dark. I shall alleviate your suffering and spare your life."

But the Princess, bruised and battered as she was, defied him.

"Never! Never will I take your hand. Light shall prevail this day!"

But Aradiel spoke again, mocking her.

"Is that the corpse of Caliphe, I see? One of the great three of Unrest?. You have no hope child. Your Champion of the Light has fallen."

Truly, the Princess began to lose heart. Perhaps it was her prayers, perhaps it was the presence of the Dark God Mage, but the Avatar of the Light appeared in flash of holy light. Chette of the Light! She challenged Aradiel to a battle to the death. For the sake of the Light, for the sake of the elven Princess. She so challenged Aradiel. Dark Lord of Evil.

Great were the battles that took place that day. All who witnessed the struggle between Light and Dark knew it were an epic tale that they would pass down to their children and grandchildren.

Aradiel took the form of a dread skeleton. One taller than the Arena walls. He carried a shovel to dig the graves of the Light. How the Dark cheered their God."

Sylvene shivered at this point, her gaze traveling to a far off place before she continued.

"As chaos overtook both the Light and Dark forces and the duels between champions turned into a great brawl, Rigas and Jopak, a lieutenant and a scout of Safe Haven managed to make their way to the Princess. While the backs of the Dark were turned, they led her away. They ran towards safety. But the Arena is a large place, my children. She never made it to safety. Just steps away from the only entrance and to safety, her life was snuffed by the Evil Wizard of the Dark, Ventura. He cast a great spell from afar, and it struck her down."

"Oh! Poor Princess!"

"I thought she was rescued!"

"Aye… she was. The Holy Cleric of the Light had recovered and was in the fray once again. He and his band of champions fought their way to her body and while they protected him, he cast a spell of resurrection. He brought her fair soul once more to her body and healed her. When the Princess arose, he took her to safety and took to the fray once again.

The battle of the Gods was fearsome to witness. Many stood in awe as the Gods fought. The Dark ones were soon in disarray as they saw their Dark Lord go down. Chette of the Light had slain the Dark Aradiel and the forces of Light took heart and routed the Dark."


"Good for Chette!"

"Down with the Dark Ones."

"If I were there, I would have stuck my dagger into Aradiel's dark soul"

"The Princess was rescued!"

"Did the Princess marry her champion?"

Sylvene laughed.

"Which champion? There were many champions that day, youngling."


"That's sissy talk. Yuck! Marry!"

"Is not! You take that back! Princesses always marry the Prince!"

"Wasn't any Prince in the story. Just champions."

The children, satisfied with their story and tired of sitting still, ran off to play. Sylvene picked up her embroidery once more, enjoying the shade of the Willow tree and warmth of the afternoon.

"Sylvene?" a timid voice asked.

Sylvene looked up and saw an older child standing by her, twisting her fair hair in her fingers.

"Yes, Luna?" she smiled

"Ermm… you've told this story before and the Princess had been tortured and branded."

"Yes she was, sweetling, with the mark of Innoruuk."

"But… but… you've got a skull on your arm." The child blurted out. "I… I saw it the other day when you were swimming in the lake."

Her eyes were wide as her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are… are you the Princess?"

Sylvene laughed softly. "Hardly, my dear. I am a simple elf maid. Merely one who likes to tell stories. Now run along. I have much to do today."

As the child ran off in the bright sunshine, Sylvene dropped her embroidery into her basket. Brushing back an errant tear, she touched a hand unconsciously to the mark on her arm.

Quiet applause greeted her ears and she turned.

"Bravo Syl. A story worthy of a Bard. I rather liked the description of myself."

Jantis grinned as he rounded the corner of her cottage towards her.

"The Valiant Bard. Shall I strike a heroic pose?"

"Oh Jantis!"

Sylvene stood up and opened her arms in invitation.

"How do you always know when I am in need of a hug?"

"Of course I know."

He replied, enveloping her in a tight comforting hug.

"Am I not your brother of the heart?"

This is a fan-fiction story set in the world of EverQuest. Felwithe is the home city of the High Elven race, Innoruuk the God of Hate.

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