The journey of a lifetime began in one of the simplest ways: the main character lost his best friend. Some journeys begin with a quest, or the idea of just getting away, but this journey was one of the most cliché, other than the idea of our journeyman’s best friend being an albino rattlesnake. Nevertheless, it was still cliché. Our main man, today, had been with his snake for more than three hundred years now, and had grown to need her. He would not be happy without her, and as we will soon find out, he will have some very interesting times trying to function properly without her. Her name is Ilta, after our guy’s first daughter, but that’s a story for another time. Our journey today, begins early in the morning, on the outskirts of a very large expanse of grass, and a few trees. Moreover, our journeyman is a man by the name of Wesdrien Demrosen. His first adventure has already happened: He came to Arda, got lost, then lost his snake. Now, his goal is to find this snake, however, that might take some time.
It smelt like rain, and the grass glistened in the rising sun. Off in a distant tree a bird sang a song of nature. Wesdrien did not blend in at all, standing at 6’5 and wearing all black. Iltian, his Longsword, rested as his side, glittering in the sun. There were no marks on the blade of the sword, showing that it had never been used before. Wesdrien was staggering slightly, unable to walk in a straight line.
“My friggen snake left me, it’s cold, I’m soaked from the rain last night, I haven’t slept since she left me, and I don’t know where I am.” He staggered his way through the open field that he had found himself in, and watched his feet as he stumbled over the uneasy terrain. About half way through the large field of grass, Wesdrien stumbled over something. After promptly falling on his face, he managed to get up, and turned around to pick up the object that tripped him. It was a journal. The cover was black, with pink writing, lipsticked lips, and a purple heart. It had the word “Journal” written on the front. Wesdrien flipped the book over and shrugged, then placed the book in one of the pockets of his trench coat.
It was a long journey to the other side of the grasslands(little did he know, if he had turned around and walked the other way when he first found himself, he would have been in a town within seconds), but he did make it, and when he did, he found a nice little town. He must have missed the sign, because he did not see one, so he just asked the first person he saw.
“Hey, where am I?” The person looked a little weird, but it was nothing he was worried about. He was in a new place; of course some people would look a little different.
“What? Huh? Do I know you?” The person ran off, looking genuinely sketchy, perhaps they had just stolen something, or maybe they were doing some drug dealing. Wesdrien smiled to himself. He used to do that stuff, before he gained control of Ouria. Now he just laid back and let her do it for him. It was much more relaxing, but now that Ilta had run off, he was so lost, he couldn’t even manage to find Ouria.
He stopped the next person he saw. “Hey, where are we?”
“Oh, hi! I’m just passing threw, sorry to bother you!” She ran off too, but less speciously. It seemed that no one was paying much attention to anyone else, just themselves.
“That’s odd, I’d expect people to be friendlier, they usually are.” He thought back to one of the times he had been walking down a street mid-day. People had randomly walked up to him and started conversations with him, complete strangers, as if they had known him all their lives. He hated it. “Eh, maybe I’ll just find a nice Bar & Inn and get some rest.
Someone ran into him. “Hey! Watch it man! I’m not a wall you can just walk into!”
Wesdrien lifted his head and shook it. “What?” The person was gone by the time he turned around. He shrugged it off. “People really are different here. Why?”
“It’s because this is Estolad.”
Wesdrien turned to face a very pretty blue woman. He blinked a few times then came to. “Oh? And what’s so special about Estolad?”
The woman smiled at Wesdrien, standing almost taller than him. She had a thick frame of muscle, but it was very pretty. Wesdrien couldn’t help but admire her. In addition, her snow-white hair was a plus. “Estolad is a Village.” She started pointing to random paths that Wesdrien hadn’t seen yet. “That path, over there, leads to Lómëdor, and the one you just came from leads to the Salquedor Grasslands. There are a few others, but those aren’t really all that important right now.” She turned around and pointed to a building in the distance. “Come, I’ll show you around some more.”
Wesdrien didn’t want to say no, so he didn’t. He checked to make sure his sword was still there, and walked next to the woman, taking in the little village, as she pointed out some of the buildings. He interrupted her in the middle of one of her sentences. “What’s your name?”
The woman chuckled lightly and stopped walking. She took a step to the side and bowed to Wesdrien. “My name is Galadriël Elanessë.” She stood again and smiled. Her smile was amazing. “What’s yours?”
“Wesdrien Demrosen.” He seemed distracted. “I apologize for having to ask, but what race are you? I’ve never seen anyone like you before. I mean, I’ve seen demons, and I’ve seen angels; I’ve even seen fairies and elves, but never anything like you.”
Galadriël chuckled to herself and started walking again. “You’re most definitely new here, aren’t you? New to Arda.”
Wesdrien had begun following her once more. “Arda. I’ve never heard of it before. Where is it?”
“Where?” She stopped walking. “Arda is Arda.” The two of them stopped at a ratty old place. “Here we are.” There was a sign that looked like it was falling off that read “Kaima Inn.”
“Is this place legit? It looks a little run down.” He was hesitant to go in. He wasn’t too fond of dirty places, they usually contained dirty people.
“Yeah, come on, it’s fine.” She opened the door for him and waited for him to go in.
He didn’t like the idea of having to go first. “Why is it so run down?”
“Because, it’s an inn and pub, for travelers, just passing through. No one cares if it looks nice, as long as they have a nice place to lay down and get drunk for awhile. Now, can we please go in?” She was getting impatient.
“Why are you so determined to go inside?” He wanted to make sure she didn’t have a trap set up for him.
Galadriël let out a huff of air. “Because the sun’s starting to come up.”
“Oh.” He shrugged and went in. He checked to make sure Iltian was still there and stopped just inside the door. It wasn’t as bad inside as it was outside.
Galadriël relaxed a little and made her way around a few drunk men. She found her seat at a table at the far wall. It wasn’t in the back of the room, like Wesdrien would have preferred, but he could manage. He looked around quickly, taking in his new atmosphere, then followed her to the table and sat between the table and the wall.
“So, it’s just a place for passer-bys to sit down and relax?” He was looking around again.
“Yeah. That’s all it is. No one pays anything to keep it looking pretty, because people are usually only here for a few hours, some will stay over night, and rarely, someone will stay a few days.”
“And what about you?”
“Me?” She smiled meekly. “I live here. Well, kind of. I’ve been here for a very long time, just picking out a few people to show around and help them on their way.”
"And you chose me?"
Galadriël shook her head slowly then looked at the door as it opened again. She stood. “Hazel! Where have you been?”
Wesdrien watched as the night elf made her way to the giant fairy that had just walked in. The fairy looked a little worn down, but it was nothing a good rest couldn't fix. While the two chatted at the door, Wesdrien reached into his pocket and pulled out the journal he had found earlier. He didn’t really care that it was pink, it wasn’t his. He had just found it. He opened the journal and crossed one of his legs over the other. The first page was covered in pictures, he had to look away for a second before trying to find the words on the page.
It read: “Hi! My mommy just gave me this book! She told me it was a journal, and that I could keep my thoughts in it! It’s so cool! I can’t wait to start writing in it!”
Wesdrien was looking over all the doodles and pictures when Galadriël brought her friend back to the table. Wesdrien leaned his chair back and continued looking at the book. He listened to the women.
The fairy was the first to speak after they sat. She was holding something that reeked of alcohol. “I already told you, I watched the girl in the forest. She got a dart stuck in her neck.”
“What was she doing before that?” Galadriël was concerned about the girl, for some reason.
“She was talking to the moon. I swear. I wasn’t just seeing things.”
“Are you positive? You sure the mist wasn’t just playing with you?” Galadriël noted the drink. “Or something else?”
“No. I’m sure of it. She was on her knees, talking to the moon, then she stopped, and the moon got a little darker, then the men appeared behind her, shot her with the dart, and took her back to a camp. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, maybe we should go check it out?”
Wesdrien put his chair back on all four legs and pocketed the journal again. “No, she’ll be fine. She was wearing pink, right?”
The fairy woman looked at Wesdrien with wide eyes. “Yes. Were you one of the men?”
Wesdrien chuckled. “No, but I know her, she’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Galadriël looked at Wesdrien with a questioning stare. “You know her? How?”
Wesdrien shrugged his heavy shoulders. “I followed her here.”
The fairy spoke. “Who is she?”
“It’s not a big deal, really. Why are you two so worried?” He rested his head on his hands; his elbows now on the table.
“Who is she?” Galadriël was demanding.
Wesdrien wasn’t sure why they were so worried, she was just a little girl, what was the big deal? “She’s my daughter. I really am curious as to why you are so curious.”
The fairy stood up. “You’re her father?”
“Well,” Wesdrien lifted his head and looked into the not so crowded room, “kind of. It’s a long story.” He moved his hand, as if brushing away the thought.
“We’ve got time,” the fairy said sitting back down.
“I really don’t feel like telling it.” Wesdrien felt the journal in his pocket, wondering who’s it was.
“Well, we need to know.” Galadriël was more assertive than the fairy. What was her name? Hazel?
He looked at the fairy. “Need to, or want to?” He thought about standing up and just walking off, but decided against it. “It really shouldn’t be that important. Not here, at least. Why are you so curious?”
The fairy looked around. “I’ve heard stories about her.”
Already? We just got here. Wesdrien thought to himself.
The fairy continued, looking around the room cautiously. “I heard that she’s an elite assassin, and that she’s here to destroy something major.”
Galadriël sat idly, letting the fairy talk.
“The rumors are spreading fast, and I think those men, who took her back to the camp, are kidnapping her, to ask her to join them. I’m sure they’re plotting something big now.”
Wesdrien pulled the diary out of his pocket once more and placed it on the table, leaving it closed. “And who are you? Some sort of cop?”
The fairy looked around the room once more, taking inventory of the others there. “Sort of.”
“How so?”
“I, shouldn’t tell you.”
Wesdrien opened the journal to the second page, and spoke to the fairy while studying its contents. “So, you won’t tell me about yourself, yet you expect me to tell you about my daughter?”
The fairy understood what he was saying. Galadriël chipped in. “Fine, we’ll just go find her ourselves and find out on our own.” She stood and the fairy followed her.
Wesdrien grinned inside. “And you think I’ll try and stop you? What do I care where you go or what you do?” Well, I guess that ruins any chance I had with the elf.
The two females left the Inn and Wesdrien. He didn’t mind really. The night elf had gotten him to where he needed to be, and now he would just sit back and relax.