The Story of Us

 No future plans to finish.

Lithriel was a priest. A rather poor one as well, this may be why they kept him in the basement cataloging and organizing. He had never really cared to be a priest, but it was what his parents wished, and their wishes came first to Lithriel. So he dove in head first, what could a still young elf do then but wish to become such greatness. That which stories were made of. There are many reasons why Lithriel was the way he was, but that's another tale. This one is about his daughter he had yet to even contemplate. Occasionally the temple would allow him to "practice" his arts of Elune, though this mainly consisted of Lithriel praying over small forest animals for hours until he'd finally give up and take the wounded creature home for supper.

It was one of these days that Lithriel met Lliahandria. Trudging through the forest he heard the unmistakable sound of a struggle. Boldly dashing forth he found a young night elf wrestling with a saber cub. Now perhaps cub isn't the best way to describe it. Cubs indicate small, and technically this one was small, but small to a saber is about half the size of a night elf and at least twice the weight. Noting her weapons had been knocked out of her hands in the heat of battle Lithriel did what he has always been taught to do. Scare the beast and run. Charging head first into the fray of the two, they never saw him coming, that was, until he tripped on a rock and tumbled into the saber which, surprised, looked down at him ready to pounce. Lithriel left forth a scream, one so terrifying that the creature couldn't help but run for the hills. Of course, it's debatable if the cat was afraid of the scream, or afraid of Lithriel mimicking the same noise again. Feeling triumphant, he rolled off his back and climbed to his feet to meet a very annoyed looking woman, weapons no longer tossed to the side.