Thelistam raised her eyes to the clear blue sky, so open and wide an expanse. Her hair fluttered about her face in the gentle breeze, the sweet smell of spring mingling in her nose. "Thelistam, please come," Unaaldir beckoned, her voice weak and frail. Thelistam turned to the elven woman who was that since she could remember was her mother as she lay on the warm beach of the lake, glittering with the brilliant gem of the sun. She grabbed Unaaldir's thin hand, small in Thelistam's, her fingers bony and narrow.
"Death is upon me soon." she told young Thelistam, but seven years of age. "The New Moon is coming, and I shall pass with it."
Thelistam's eyes were wide and sorrowful, pools of shadows and darkness, a tear glistening inside it. "Do not cry for me, Thelistam." Unaaldir scolded gently. "There is no reason. My time has come-I have become no use on this world any longer. My life has been long and fruitful-I done as much as I may to advance your race."
The young girl swallowed, silent. "You are very wise, Thelistam. Your soul is amoung the oldest of those that I have met, and you are far older in the mind than in your body. You shall help my husband and all the others of the future continue with this work-as there is much to be done." Unaaldir paused, catching her breath. She raised her long, skinny arm to lift Thelistam's face to the sunshine so that the shadows disappeared from her expression. "It has been my honor to raise you. I am not one to see the future, but perhaps my true reason in my life was to raise you so that you may advance the work extraordinarily. I am only a minor piece in this puzzle."
"What if I do not wish to be what you say I am?" Thelistam's small voice inquired.
Unaaldir smiled sadly, "I am afriad that is life, my Sweet. Almost nothing is as you wish it."
Almost nothing is as you wish it. Thelistam remembered Unaaldir's words almost a decade later as their small band rode across the Plains. It was the least place she wanted to be, the summer heat baking their skin and their skin shinning with the oils of sweat. The thought of no one-no one-out here to help them scared her beyond any other fright she had had before.
The mountains were dark, emerald and purple heads before them, the Farniev Range of mountains. Thelistam, or even Cygen and Jalgn, had never seen mountains before, and at first sight she was awed and frightened by their massiveness. Hre'glen and Gio had told them that they were great stones spit up from the Earth, and all the legends that came with them.