As long as I can remember I have lived here in Moorgate. I may have been born here - indeed, I think it most likely. How it came to pass that my father - a wandering woodcarver, late of Woodtop - and my mother, the city schoolmistress, came to fall in love I do not know. All I know is that my father never failed to bring my mother a gift when he returned from his frequent rovings and that she loved him until the day she died. As I say, my mother was the schoolmistress and so I accompanied her to the school from an early age. Perhaps this is why I never felt the lack of brothers and sister - at least not until later - or perhaps it was because I was too much like my father. Anyhow, I longed to go with him on his ramblings and Mum allowed it only on rare occasions. He roamed mostly in Darkwell - he thought the woods there the most interesting to carve. He said once that they had a story of their own - that all wood does, as does any living creature. He loved the land - not surprisingly for it seems bred into most elves, as he was - and could charm the very birds from the trees. Unfortunately, this charm did not work on the Trolls. I was not much shy of 10 when some of the other townfolk - those that were not afraid of the wood - brought his body back. Or rather, what was left. From that day to this I have never seen a more terrifying sight than my mother's face when she saw Da's body. I thought for a heart-stopping instant that I would lose her then too. The illuminated map of Darkwell that my father had been making for my next birthday is still around here somewhere....
::there is a smudge on the page as though it had gotten wet::

Anyway, Mum returned to the school and I went with her - though, as always, my heart longed to be out of doors - even better, out of Moorgate. She asked me to promise that I would not stray out of the gates, though, and I had no choice but to give my word. My body remained caged in the city, though my thoughts were rarely present in the schoolroom. It must have been greatly embarrassing to her that her daughter should be the class dunce. One day when I was 14, there was a noise from outside whilst we were in classes. The door burst open and several of those loathsome goblinkin advanced into the classroom. Naturally, the little children were terrified. But my mother - who had never so much as raised a fist against anyone in her life - stood up to them, laying about with the pointer she used at the chalkboard. One of them at last, though, managed to strike her. Not hard and she was not seriously injured, but it was more than I could do to restrain my temper any longer. Many of the smallest children were huddled behind me and the other teacher was having hysterics in a corner, so I couldn't move to help Mum. So I grabbed what was nearest to hand - an apple, left from lunch - and whizzed it at the nearest goblin. To my great surprise it not only hit him, but killed him. I felt a great surge of joy and power through me. In retrospect, I realize that he must already have been greatly injured, but at the time-! Anyhow, Mum with her pointer began pushing them back out of the school while I continued to pelt them with the contents of her desk. When she had pushed them out into the street, she turned to me - her face wearing that exultant look I could feel on my own. That was when the Troll behind her struck. It took him only a single blow and I was orphaned at the moment of triumph. I pushed the children further behind me, trying desperately to figure out how we could still survive - with a part of me, looking at my mother's ravaged body and wondering why it mattered - when the Troll fell forward, an axe appearing between his shoulder blades. The Fighter's Guild saved us that day and on that day I decided that someday, I, too, would fight to protect the littlest of Moorgate.
It took me many years of training - longer than it might have, but that I was handed a sword and forced to learn to use it. I never did like the cumbersome thing or the fact that its use required allowing the opponent the time, range and opportunity to hit you back. I much preferred my bow - though my "classmates" laughed at my "cowardice". Few of them survived they're first non-training combat. Im time, I sought out the viper spirit - and after much trial and error - was aided by a Guild member. With pride I laid the corpse at General Blueheart's feet and claimed my right of membership.

I grow weary of holding pen to paper and Aurelina is awake - again! - so I shall close this here. If my guild requires it - or even so much as wishes it - I will contiune at a later date.