It was a gloriously hot day deep in the forests of Yomenïampa, despite the apparent shelter of the overhanging trees. The sky was cloudless, although you could hardly see the sky from anywhere you stood in Yomenïampa anyway, unless the place you stood was on top of the trees which seemed to soar endlessly into the heavens. Yes, it was a bright and hot day to begin the first round of fighting between two eager competitors. The wildlife was teaming and buzzing near the base of the trees and the tops of the trees too, but there was one location which was packed with more creatures than some of the hollow tree trunks in the wood. The Elven Arena.

The location of this first round battle was just as high as the rest of the treetop houses; a spectacular hexagonal arena, bronze in colour and made entirely of strong and sturdy wood. Inside were hundreds of rows of seats, most of them full of elves who had turned up to watch the oncoming battle, although some were occupied by tournament officials, nobles and commoners who were travelling through the area at the time. The arena itself was magnificent too, the most skilled warriors would be honoured to fight in such grand and flawless designed structure, it had been made with skill and patience and was obviously a tribute to the beauty of war.

The ground of the arena was wooden and stainless, no doubt kept clean by the Elves who had helped create it and it was engraved with wispy patterns and detailed pictures of gladiators and archers. There were many smooth pillars of wood reaching just a little higher than the rows of seats, which were also patterned and shaped to represent a theme of war and battle. These pillars had many groves which could possibly be used for climbing onto, but there were also plenty of ropes attached to the various pillars at various heights. The ropes seemed to gleam an enchanted yellow as they swayed in the gentle breeze which blew in and out of the arena. These ropes could also be used for climbing and swinging upon, although they were all quite high off of the ground meaning that they were hard to get to in the first place. They were there mostly for decoration, although there could surely be used to aid a cunning fighter in one way or another.

In the very center of the arena was a magnificent tree trunk belonging to a large spectacular oak tree, which ran from the floor of the forest far below the arena. It did not stop in the arena, and instead shot up into the sky where it’s many branches provided shade, shelter and protection from anything above the arena. This tree had no carvings upon it, nor glowing ropes attached to it, but there were occasional scorch marks and on one side of the trunk there was a huge dent, where a large chunk of the tree had caved inwards under some kind of immense pressure. This was the arena where the fight was to be held.

The Narrator was perched in a golden wood viewing box, higher than the other spectators and further forward than anyone else. He was fanning himself to cool his body temperature, and occasionally impatiently sipping water from his small golden flask. Truth be told, he wasn’t so comfortable surrounded by so many elves but they were humanoid enough for him to cope with. However, it was not them he would be giving his full attention to. It was those who would be fighting inside of the hexagonal battleground before him. An Elven do-gooder called Ancalë was up against a guardian of water or something of the sort. Tobias did not believe in guardians and would be interested to see how well this water mage fought; she must be good if she could convince others she was a demigod!

Yes, this truly would be an interesting match to watch. Although this battle was only early on in the tournament, it created first impressions in the judge’s mind, and creating perfect impressions in Tobias’ mind was important if they wanted to do well in this competition. The Narrator, the oh-so noble Narrator demanded respect in this tournament, and this was all quite clear as he stood up in his box, and spoke with a loud booming voice which was caused by the Elven magic the small viewing platform had been enchanted with. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” The Narrator’s voice echoed, in the professional way he was used to speaking in when performing in his plays, “Today, we watch the first round of Sartana’s Ardian Tournament!” He paused for effect, surveying the now quiet stands and the competitors below. “Today, we fight!” . With those last words, the spectators erupted with cheers and applause. “Fighters, you may begin!” Tobias finished, as the battle started.

When Merenwen had joined the tournament she had never expected to be brought back to Yomenïampa for her first match. If she had known where she was to fight she doubted that she ever would have agreed to it. She had joined the tournament in need of a way to release her depression and anger but coming here only made the depression stronger.

Many of the elves in the city knew of the death of her parents a short time before but none of them knew the reason. None of them knew that it was her becoming a Guardian that had caused her parents to lose their lives. She had made a deal with one of the most evil beings in existence and she had failed on her end. He could not take her soul because she had found herself to be a Guardian and if he couldn’t have her soul then he would take the life of her parents. In the beginning she had made the deal in order to help her parents when they had been afflicted by a powerful curse, but never had she expected that the same deal would lead to their death.

He had taken their life while the war was in full swing and so she had no way to get home. She had missed their funeral and by the time the war had ended she had been unable to bring herself to come back to the city. Instead she had wandered about and spent a great deal of time alone in her shrine where her mind had repeatedly reminded her of how naïve and stupid she had been. There was nothing she could do for her parents now and it was all her fault. She had soon found that sitting alone with her thoughts only did more harm then good. She needed to train and prepare herself for her next meeting with that dreaded creature and so she had went back into the world. She had heard of a tournament that was being held and decided to join both for the training and the ability to find a place to send her rage at.

She had expected the fights to take place either in the training arena or the Battle Stand but she had been told to go to Yomenïampa instead. Hearing this had sent a gut wrenching surge of pain through her gut but she had made the trip none the less. She could not avoid her childhood home forever and she would not break her agreement to fight. Even so, entering the city had been immensely difficult and she had been forced to find a place to hide out as she waited for the battle. She could not take the words of her childhood friends, nice as they may have been, because she knew the truth and she blamed herself.

She reached a house that she knew to belong to a childhood friend who would not be there at the time. Knowing she would be able to get ready there without being disturbed she slipped inside and finally allowed the tears that she had been holding in since entering the city begin to fall. Though she cried she did prepare for the fight, hoping to at least find one thing in the city that would not remind her of her parents. She wore comfortable blue pants and a blue chemise which she covered with the armor that had once belonged to the Changeling King. Over this she slid on her Winter’s Embrace Cloak and she followed this by pulling her hair up with a blue ribbon. Next she attached her sword at her hip and her Vivacious Arc and Frost Arrows on her back. She also wore a dagger hidden within her boot that she would use if left with no other choice. Finally she pulled on her gloves, ones made to increase her ability in climbing, and stepped back out into the streets of what had once been her home.

When she stepped outside she looked into the sky and called upon the rain. The once sunny sky filled with clouds of a dark grey that was verging on black. The rain came down on the leaves above her and slowly began to fall all the way down into the streets. “This is the only way that this day can be as my heart is in gloom. The world will follow my heart and the tears that I fear to show to other on my face will show as the rain from the sky”

She said this to herself and once she had said it she looked back down and walked through the rain towards the arena. She did not know yet who she would be fighting or why they had chosen to have the fight here but she expected that she would know soon enough.

As Merenwen walked along the streets she ignored what those around her said. She walked with her mind locked to everything so that she would be able to fight. If she didn’t hold back her mass depression she would not be able to fight through the tears and she needed to fight in order to test herself for her next meeting with Xoco. She could cry when the fight was done but until then she would let the rain be her tears and she would fight as if her life depended upon it.

When Merenwen finally stepped out onto the arena she was amazed at what she saw. It seemed most of the elves in the city had come to see a show and she knew that if any of them began to speak with her about her parents she would break. She could not look at them and so instead her eyes swam about the arena trying to learn every inch of it. She did not want to be caught unaware during the fight and had never fought within the arena before.

She noticed the war images engraved into the wood and as beautiful as they would have been any other time she could not stand to focus on those images now. They were intricate, she noticed this, but the intricacy brought her back to the war and the day her parents died. Her eyes began to water and so she looked back up into rain that fell through the leaves as she waited for her emotions to calm. Once she had once again gained control she allowed her eyes to scan the arena again and noted the notches and ropes that would be perfect for climbing. She did not know how the battle would go but having the ability to climb would only help her.

She could see that she would have to be careful in the middle of the arena not to be thrown into the tree trunk that rose through it but she also knew that if she played it right she may be able to use that to her own advantage as well. She had yet to see her opponent and was beginning to wonder about it but thought it possible that whoever it was they may be waiting on the other side of the tree trunk. As she got the idea to walk around and find out she heard a voice from above getting the spectators ready for the battle they were about to watch. Looking up she could make out a man who sat alone high above her and she suddenly knew that he was the judge. She just hoped that she would give him a good show and be able to win against her competitor, whoever it may be.

A bright, hot and sunny, day. How ironic, was the first thought that crossed Ancalë's mind. The tournament was hosted by the Sun Guardian, Sartana, and the first day of the elf's match, the sun was radiating her special golden warmth to a tremendous degree. Used to the temperature and the climate here however, it being the Paladin's home for his entire life, he figured it would be tougher on his opponent for the day, whoever it was at any rate. Ancalë had heard that some pretty big names had signed up for this particular event, and some of the rumors of the warriors within had sent a shiver down his spine. If the Dark Guardian did have the potential to be his foe in this tournament... the very notion made the elf's sweat run cold.

He made his way there with his Masterwork Spear slung over his right shoulder. If there was going to be a tough fight, then Ancalë wanted to be as prepared as he could be, and that spear was the weapon that he was most skilled with. In addition, he carried a gold hilted broadsword sheathed at his left hip, and it was to be used if the need arose. Truth be told, he also brought it just in case there was going to be some one powerful and evil beyond the archway that would take him to the arena; there was a rune inscribed upon the sword, that made the mere touch of it painful to those of an evil nature. The rune was inscribed by the most divine hand of the Goddess of Life herself.

No matter who the opponent was out there, Ancalë felt sure that he had the home field advantage. In his youth, the elf was always running free about the forest, learning to hide from the people that were always following him. He had no idea that they were sent their by his parents to keep tabs on him, it was just a game that the young elf had loved to play. They never failed in finding him swiftly, no matter how ingenious he thought his hiding place. Each time, he knew he was going to remain undiscovered, and each time he was wrong. One day, when he was found, he was curious as to who the swift and lightfooted elves were that kept on catching him; upon his inquiry, the elf holding his arm responded swift as his feet seemed to fly every time. "I Tirin.", 'The Guards'.

And that was the moment when Ancalë knew what it was he wanted to do with his life. His father had been one a long time ago, and though his tales were always interesting, they never motivated the young Ancalë to join up. After witnessing firsthand however, just how stealthy and fast they could be, not only how resplendent their fighting abilities were said to be, his mind was pretty much made up. That was before the first war. The war that took the life of his father. When Ancalë had joined the guards, his father had that sword made for him, he had aided the smith who forged it himself, and he had used it as well. The spear he carried as well was crafted just for his son, the son who had followed his footsteps and became a guard. No other hands had ever wielded that weapon, save for the smith that had forged it and Ancalë himself. On the black day that that gold hilted sword was returned to Ancalë's doorstep, by a hand other than his fathers, Ancalë's world suddenly changed. He knew it was the forces of evil that had taken his fathers life, and he vowed upon that very blade, the one he wore at his hip on this day, that he would do his best to rid the world of evils taint.

The world around him suddenly returned to his eyes in a shock. With a sudden jolt of realization, he realized how his memories had swirled all other thought away from his mind. His right hand been gripping the sword hilt almost painfully. He let go of the gripping and let his hand slide down. With his right, he drew the blade, and it's familiar comforting steel ring reverberated through the air, and through every part of his being.
"Father, I swear to you; I will not let you down this day." he whispered in the high tongue, Quenya. Sheathing the blade, he looked out of the window in the room inside the six-sided Elven Arena. The sky had darkened. The woods were shrouded in a hue much darker than before, and it appeared that it was starting to rain, softly at first, but soon thunderously.

"Aia Lothlómendil." Ancalë whispered reverently as he touched the Golden 'L' rune that lay over his heart. In his mind, he said a prayer beseeching her guidance in this battle. The cloak he wore was white as snow, bearing said rune. Underneath was his Guards uniform, General's stars over his shoulders. He would shed the cloak before the fight, lest something fell happen to it. His fine elven boots were perfect for the weather conditions, and he studied every spell he could think of in his head. he had to be ready for anything out there. At the rear of his belt, was the malicious, razor-keen dagger, Threnody's Spite, ready as a last resort weapon.

Right now, if asked, he would not lie; the nervousness of a tournament was making his stomach do sommersaults. But he knew that once he set out there, the grim determination and icy cool confidence he usually wore would take over once more. With a sigh, he set out the door. He could hear the magically amplified voice of the announcer, a man of some prominence or so Ancalë had heard, named Tobias Drate or something to that effect, called both the fighters to the arena. Pushing his door open, he set out down the hallway.

The roar of the crowd was tremendous, even as it echoed through the hallway leading the arena. There was no door, and the darkness of the storm that had overtaken the sun was reaching out to Ancalë, calling his name. The confidence came back in a flood. His amber eyes went ice cold and agate hard. He took his cloak off and draped it over the bench before the exit, and strode out the door, all the fear left back in his preperation room. He quickly scanned the crowd, noticing all the faces, both familiar and not. He smiled at his friend, Larcamacil, and gave him a curt nod. Then he scanned the area for his competitor. She had only recently emerged herself as she was right by the entrance to the main arena. At least it seemed to be a she, what with the long blonde hair that looked hauntinglu familiar. Something about her seemed to taunt Ancalë, making his mind race to catch what it was. She seemed sad, and determined at that same time, even from the distance they were at, which was not all together that great, but enough to skew things. And then it hit him.
"Lady Merenwen?!" he shouted, his eyes wide in shock. He had met her before, here in the city. She knew what she was doing when it came to a fight, and her mastery of water magic was legendary. It was rumored that she was divinity. Ancalë was grim at the prospect of fighting one like her, so sweet and powerful at the same time. he genuinely liked this woman and wished no harm to come to her, but what had to be had to be, and there was nothing he could do to change it. He slipped his spear off his shoulder and made his way towards the center of the arena, taking note of every rope and every pillar that crossed his line of sight.
Today was certainly going to be interesting.

As small puddles began to form on the battlefield Merenwen began to get antsy and nervous. True, this fight did not hold the same level of destruction as the war, they would not be fighting to the death, but she had only fought for an audience once before. That had been before she had learned that she was a Guardian so one might think that she would have been more nervous for that fight but it was a close call. In that fight she had been partnered with a very good friend in Zenith Meria and with his help her fears had been alleviated some.

Now she stood waiting for a fight to begin in which she would have no help, not even that of her animal friends. They were not allowing familiars to help in the battle and she had not even been able to bring them with for moral support. If they had come and seen her in any danger then they would have tried to help her. Knowing this she had left them to care for each other in her shrine, though it had hurt her to leave them behind.

She didn’t know who she would be fighting; in truth she had no idea who had joined the tournament. When talk of the other contestants had come up she had shut her mind to it. It couldn’t matter who she might come up against; if she had know then she may have let herself be distracted by who she might fight next. She would rather have no idea who she might fight and thus take each fight one at a time then know who else was out there. It was always possible that she would be forced to fight a friend; it was just as possible that she would fight an enemy, either way she would have to fight the same way or joining the tournament would be a waste.

She hadn’t even realized she was doing it but as all these thoughts ran through her head her hands had moved about bringing the puddles of water together. She had not gathered all the water that had fallen through the trees thus far but she did have a large puddle that she felt she would be able to make use of. It was odd, for so many years she had been confused by her connection to water and now she used it without even knowing what she was doing. Sure, the part of her mind that was thinking of the fight would have thought to make the best use possible of the water, but that part had been behind many other thoughts. Even so, it had obviously been strong enough to cause her to do the work even without realizing it.

She was just about to laugh at herself over her minds preparation when she heard someone call out to her from behind. Before she even had the chance to realize that it was a voice she had heard before she had pulled her sword and spun around to see who was coming up behind her. It was never a good idea to be caught off guard in any fight and she had nearly done so. She had not heard the person advancing as her mind had been lost in thought and she was glad that whoever it was they had not chose to just attack her from behind when she wasn’t ready.

When she turned and caught sight of her opponent, she was surprised; and yet, a part of her had almost expected something similar to happen. She knew that there had to be a reason for the fight being put in the Elven city, and seeing Ancalë explained it all to her. She had believed herself to be an elf and lived as an elf until a short time before. He was an elf. It must have seemed only fitting to have the fight in what had been home to both of them. The thought made sense, but she wished it hadn’t been so. The city held too many memories and it hurt too much to be there.

“So it seems I will have to start off by fighting a friend,” she said to herself. “It seems it is just my luck that such a thing would happen, though I guess things could be worse.” She had met Ancalë less then a year before, prior to her deal with Xoco, and found him to be a very pleasant person. He had been kind to her and she had felt relaxed in his presence. It had been almost as if she had known him forever, she had felt that comfortable. It could have been due to his being a Guard, or just that she had met him when she was in a good mood, but she had truly felt a fast friendship form with him. The thought of his being a Guard brought her back to the fight at hand, he would know how to fight and she would not only have to force herself to be a part in hurting a friend, but also someone whom she respected as having helped to protect the city with his life.

She watched as he took out his spear and readied himself for the fight. She nodded to him and said, “If I must fight a friend I guess I am glad it is you. I respect you for who you are and what you do, and know that whatever happens here today that respect will stand.”

That said she knew that it was time to start the fight. She wanted to get it over with, even if she failed, because she anted to get out of the city. She couldn’t stand the feel of eyes looking at her knowing that many of them were likely thinking of her parents. She couldn’t stand to look around and see things that reminded her of growing up in the city. It was time to shut it all out and get the fight over with. When it was done she could allow the thoughts to flood back in and she could find a place to be alone with her pain. Until then she would force those thoughts to the back of her mind and she would fight this fight with all the power that she possessed.

Pulling back within herself she raised her left hand, the one that was free of her sword, and called upon the power that she had found within herself. The spell she chanted was one that any of her followers could use but that she had only remembered after all of her powers had returned. It used the water that she had pooled together from the rain and created a massive ice golem, a creature that was very difficult to harm except by use of fire magic.

She did not know, as it had not come up in their conversation when they had met, whether or not Ancalë knew any fire magic. In truth she suddenly realized that she did not know that much about him at all, she knew he was a Guard and good at fighting but she had no knowledge as to his magical prowess. She expected that she would soon see exactly what kind of fighter he was but she would use the golem to help in testing him. She did not want to jump into a sword on spear fight when her abilities ran more towards magic but if she was forced to do so she would be ready. She still held her sword ready at her side and she stood balanced and steady on her feet.

When the Golem had formed it started moving slowly towards Ancalë. It had no weapons and was not very fast but it was strong and could cause damage if its attacks landed. She watched the golem move along while keeping Ancalë in view and when the massive ice being took its first swing she kept her eyes locked on him to see how he would react. She expected he would find a way to avoid the punch, but she wondered if he would be able to get past the beast and mount his first attack on her.

She stood ready with the rain falling down and soaking into her air. A gust of blew through the arena causing her cloak to sway and her blade lifted in front of her waiting fro him to attack. The Golem would keep him in part distracted but she doubted it would stop him from attacking her. Even so, whatever help she could get from her Golem would give her a better chance and that was all she was looking for. She had started the fight and she was ready to finish it as soon as possible.