Long had it been since the sea vessel deposited travelers within the ill advised location of Vilpamolan, a known haven for pirates and thieves. Far too often had Oberon caught up with It, forcing the fae to retreat. For fifty years, this game of cat-and-mouse ensued, the opposition finally catching up. Present circumstances required It to attempt refuge overseas.

North of Vilpamolan, past the forests, beyond highlands lay a city within Mo'mey Steppes offering desired refuge. Destination clear as day, It commenced the beginning of the tedious, time consuming journey. The mountainous peninsula opened its maw into a sprawling, fiery wood. As beautiful as the myriad of color was to behold, this environment was hostile. Endless echoes were not to be trusted, else be led astray surely into dens of ravenous, unknown creatures.

Something felt amiss to what appeared as a snow haired elf as fallen leaves crunched underfoot. Where songs should be heard above lay a weighted hush instead. Tension was palpable, ready to snap, casting a surreal pallor upon his perception. Briefly pausing, sapphire orbs scanned the surrounding area. Settled among boughs perched a murder of crows, beady eyes boring straight to the soul.

A single, harsh cry broke through the silence, a plethora of obsidian feathers took flight. Their target became clear, descending upon the solitary man. Terror filled the heart as he fled, deeper through the wood. Thorny underbrush clawed at him, shredding cloth and skin alike. Avian claws clutched at him, crimson liquid streaming from all wounds. Ahead, a root lifted, tripping him, sending the elf tumbling down a steep incline.

His momentum ceased at the feet of an imposing man. The attacking nature went to rest, crows returning to their boughs, watching the fae below. Receiving a swift, powerful kick at the spleen, he screamed. "Do not dare contemplate fancies of fleeing for eternity. You are mine, Jade." Several more kicks each demanded personal sounds of torture. Leaves rustled, attacks ceased. Oberon leaned down in gorgeous splendor, whispered deadly promise. His laugh echoed as he leisurely walked away, disappearing in a gust of wind.

    She carried a basket which contained freshly picked herbs as she wandered through the forest. She didn’t know her way around very well, and was just too stubborn to use her map, so she stayed on the outskirts of the forest and avoided venturing too deep. She knew full well that if she went too far, chances were she would not find her way out. It was a dangerous place, filled with creatures and who knows what else. She was a warrior at heart and spirit, but she did not have the weapons nor armor like actually warriors did. And that was precisely what was needed to venture deeper and survive. 

She stopped momentarily to pick yet another herb once it caught her eye, kneeling down on her knees and with gentle hands, she dug beneath the earth and pulled the plant out with all of its roots. As she stood and dusted off her dress, Nelanna heard something strange not far off. Growing curious, yet rather wary, she followed the sound with light and quiet steps. The hand that did not hold the basket sipped beneath her cloak and gripped her dagger, preparing for any danger. Of course, if needed she could use what little fire magic she had at the moment. Perhaps to briefly stun her enemy long enough for her to make a run for it if things got bad enough. But what she discovered was nothing she had expected.

There lied an elfin man with snow white hair blood stained his tattered clothing, whilst his skin was blueish purple in several spots, all bruises. He looked to be in a terrible condition, perhaps barely alive. From where she stood, Nelanna couldn’t tell if he was still breathing or not. But either way, she was alarmed and worry seeped into her heart for the stranger. She rushed to his side, kneeling beside him and looked him over frantically. “Oh dear, what’s happened to you?” She asked, hoping he was still alive as she felt for a pulse in his wrist. He was still alive!

Curled up on himself, body shaking, the words of his father ran through his head. ”Never shall another sound escape your body, or common runes be used. May your body take ill and never recover, ungrateful child.” Fairy curses were some of the worst, often bestowed without a care to consequences. There was no surprise that Oberon would do such a thing to his kin.

Footsteps approached, crunching leaves. Tensing, Anon feared for the worse. Had Oberon decided to finish him off instead of watching the curse take effect? However, it was someone else, to gawk perhaps? As the scent of fresh herbs washed over him, her voice captured his attention. Sweet, soft and caring, worried over his health. Warm fingers checked his pulse.

His gem like eyes opened to gaze upon the flaming goddess before him. Curling crimson locks cascaded about her fair skin, beautiful turquoise gems gazing down at the injured man before her. Knowing it was futile, Anon attempted to speak anyway. “Crows”. No sound graced either of their ears. It was extreme effort to push himself to all fours, ending up collapsing, curling tighter than before.

’Damn Oberon! Damn him to hell!’ These were the last words to pass through his head before the curse weighed too heavily, dragging Anon into unconsciousness.

    Nelanna felt a wave of relief once she saw him looking up at her, and she offered him a reassuring smile. “Don’t fret, you will be alright,” she said softly. She started looking over him, more thoroughly this time, so she’d know how to help. Perhaps a healing spell? But she wasn’t sure if his wounds were grave enough. It took a lot of her mana to perform a healing spell, which would all be waisted if the wounds could easily be healed with normal medicines and herbs. 

She felt her worry return when the man tried standing, and she reached her arms out in case he needed a steadying hand. “Don’t push yourself. You aren’t well enough to stand yet,” she said worriedly. But her worry only worsened when he suddenly collapsed and fell unconscious.

With a quivering breath caused by unsteady nerves, she decided she should use a healing spell. Bones could be broken, organs could be damaged. Her healing kit and herbs back at her cottage can’t fix that. She laid her hands upon him, closing her eyes at the start of deep concentration. An incantation left her lips, and with a bright light she began to feel him heal. But it wasn’t enough. Something was keeping her from healing him completely. She opened her eyes and looked down at him softly. It pained her dearly to see him like that. She may not have known him, but she valued all life, and would do anything to protect it.
 
Deciding she should take him to her cottage so she could examine him better, she whistled a tune, and within minutes came a pure white mare. The horse was already prepared for riding. And with as much strength as Nelanna could summon, she lifted up the man and laid him across the saddle. It wasn’t an easy task, but she managed. With that, she began leading the horse back to her cottage, occasionally sparing the man a worried glance.

Her cottage wasn’t very far from where she had found the man, so it didn’t take long to get there. It was a beautiful little place, with gardens and flowerbeds, vines crawling up the pale stone walls and lanterns hanging on either side of the front door on the porch.

She stopped the horse near the porch and struggled to get the man back down. It took her a few tries, and stumbled and almost fell several times, but just like earlier, she managed. The weight of a man was just too much for her to carry alone. But she was determined to help this man.

She carried him inside, holding one of his arms around her neck, with her other arm around his waist for support. Getting him up the stairs and to the third floor was no easy feat, and by the time she made it she was out of breath.

The third and final floor was an attic, but it wasn’t fixed like one. The floors were dark wood and well kept, while the oak wood furniture were dusted and cleaned to a shine. A large window rested on the wall to her right, giving the person within the room a beautiful view of the forest. Further along the same wall was a desk to sit at, and then a small bookcase. To her left was a wardrobe with two large cabinets where shirts and shoes were stored, and below was were trousers and underclothes were folded and kept in drawers. The bed was further along against the furthest wall, set so the floorboard was facing toward the wall to her right. Lastly, a large chest rested at the foot of the bed; this was where extras were stored.The room obviously wasn’t used much, but it was kept clean and prepared in case of company. 

Nelanna carried the man over to the bed and, as gently as she could, laid him down. She would have to clean the wounds she couldn’t fully heal and wash the blood from his body and clothes. Even his tattered clothing was damaged and in desperate need of tailoring. But she wasn’t comfortable with undressing him and washing down his body with him unconscious and unaware. It felt as if she’d be taking advantage of him. She knew how it felt to be sexually harassed, and though she wasn’t sure if men felt the same way, she knew it was far from pleasant. 

So, she decided to leave him for now and check back to make sure he was alright. She could find fresh clothing to substitute for when she fixes his current ones when he wakes, and she also needed to gather her medical kit and herbs so that she may clean the wounds and hopefully heal them. That, she could do while he slept. 

With a new goal, she walked over to the chest at the foot of the bed and opened it. Inside were blankets, all freshly cleaned and neatly folded, prepared for use. And just below them, at the bottom of the the chest was the medical kit. She removed it and shut the chest, then sat on the bed next to the man. Opening the kit, a bottle of alcohol was revealed along with rags to clean wounds, and other emergency medical tools. 

She began to poor some alcohol onto a rag, then turned to the man. With a deep breath, she began gently rubbing it on his wounds to cleanse them, starting with the cuts on his face.

Dark images swirled in the unconscious mind. A child beaten, starved, treated worse than a servant. Often times, mortals were held in higher regard than this small fairy. While the unsuspecting traveler may be cursed to dance upon thorns until death, the young one was crying herself to sleep with broken bones, a gnawing hunger gripping her stomach. At least the cursed were given food and merriment up to their demise.

Fear had ruled the child's life for so long, much of it was buried under thick walls. As his body burned with fever, the strong sense of fortune bled through the misery of past events. Few kicks with a murder of crows paled in comparison to broken limbs. A single tear formed and rolled down his cheek as cold, wet, and burning sensations pierced his uncomfortable slumber. Slowly, things began to register, such as the soft bed hugging Anon, a soothing voice humming. His body felt cold, yet he was burning up from the inside.

Eyes were forced open, the vision of that red haired goddess swam before him. Pitiful, and pleading, the elf lifted his hand to rest upon the one touching his face with something he wasn't familiar with. Gently, it was guided to his forehead, her skin feeling cool against his. Yet, he knew that if the wounds from crow and thorns were not treated, especially with Oberon concerned, there'd be hell to pay. Once more, as futile as it was, Anon attempted to speak again, only resulting in lips moving unintelligibly, soundless.

Anon pushed himself up, reaching out for the small woman. Attempting to get out of bed alone would result in sprawling across the floor. Yet, his entire body screamed out in pain, his face distorted by it as he fell back onto the bed. Weakly, a hand grasped at his clothing, trying to rip it off. If it dried to the blood… It'd be painful to remove.

    As she was wiping the blood from his body and cleaning his wounds, Nelanna noticed that he had finally awoken. She stopped humming and offered him a gentle smile. “You’re awake,” she said quietly and softly, deciding to pretend she hadn’t seen the tear that strayed only moments ago. His weak movements and failed attempts to speak made her heart squeeze with sorrow. This poor man…whom had done this to him? And as she continued to rub the rag across his skin, she began to notice how hot he was. Furrowing her brows a little, she reached out to feel him for a temperature, but was startled when he decided to try sitting up.

Dropping the blood stained rag, Nelanna quickly grabbed hold of him so he wouldn’t fall back too roughly. “Careful there. You shouldn’t try getting up yet,” she said, taking up the rag once more and wiping at a cut on his cheek. Perhaps she should introduce herself. Even if he couldn’t currently speak to do the same, it was unladylike for her to bring him into her home and not even tell him whom she was. With another soft smile, she began introducing herself, “My name is Nelanna, Nelanna Rey Fox. I found you out in the forest, bloodied and beaten. I tried using a spell to heal you, but for some reason I was only able to heal your more minor injuries. So I brought you here.” She paused for a moment to look around the room, then looked back down at him. “This is my home. A cottage within Virens Forest.” 

Her smile faltered a little as she saw him grasping at his clothes and pulling on them. Perhaps he wanted them off. Well, they needed to come off sooner or later so she could wash and tailor them. She had waited for when he was awake, and he was awake now. She set the rag aside, speaking the words, “Here, let me help you.” Nelanna grabbed hold of the bottom of his shirt and began pulling it up over his head, until it was completely off. In an attempt to keep herself from gasping at what she saw, she parted her lips and her breath hitched. His lean body was covered with terrible bruises, some larger than her own hand. Gashes and scratches stretched up, down and across his torso. They were everywhere. The more she discovered the more her heart was pained, and the more she felt bad for him. 

With his trousers being next, she gripped the top of his tattered fabric and took a deep breath. She started to pull them down, keeping her eyes focused on the fabric itself and nothing else. She refused to see something she shouldn’t be seeing. Within moments they were off, and the man was left almost completely naked if it weren’t for the underclothes he wore. She released a sigh of relief to see that he was covered, and now felt more comfortable with what she had to do. 

Taking the rag up again, she poured a little more alcohol on it once more, since it was beginning to dry. Starting from his neck now, she wiped his wounds free from any blood and bacteria that could possibly start infection. Once she was satisfied she applied a little medicine to each and every open wound. It was made from a mixture of different herbs she had mashed together to make a sort of paste. Then, after every wound had been properly cleansed and medicine had been applied, she took bandages from the medicine kit and started to patch him up. She tried being as gentle with him as she possibly could, not wishing to cause him anymore harm.

Finally, his wounds had been taken care of. But now, she wanted to know just how bad his fever was. So she lightly placed her hand on his forehead to check his temperature, only to find he was beaming with heat. He felt like he was on fire. She pulled away and gathered the contents of the medicine kit and put them back in their rightful place, then shut it and stood up. Glancing down with a kind yet smile, she asked, “I’ll return with some medicine to help with your fever and some fresh clothing. Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I can make something for you that’ll hopefully help bring some of your strength back.”

Hearing her name brought idle thoughts of the lack of a new name for which to go by in this form. Such things were trivial for now, especially without the ability to speak. This provided him chance to actually contemplate a proper name for an unknown length of time before choosing. Nelanna had attempted to heal what his father had done, but was unsuccessful. Hopefully, she would forgive the burning elf for not really taking an interest of looking around her home. Bandage the wounds, and sleep. It's all he wanted to do, sleep until the cursed illness take him.

As best as he could, Anon assisted the kind stranger, even so far as sitting at the edge of the bed, almsot with his chest resting on his knees as she treated his back. Honestly, the last time he remembered being this weak, requiring assistance for simple tasks had been so long ago, the memory was faded almost into obscurity. Was it from an attack on a brothel? Fever addled as he was, he couldn't help but smirk at the woman's modesty, refusing to allow her sight to wander. If he was feeling better, perhaps Anon would be trying to woo her.

No, she seemed too pure for that route. Nelanna would not be a one night fling. Still, to have someone take the time to be gentle in their care of a stranger was something he was not accustomed to. Oberon and his court was cruel, and she was the complete opposite, selfless. Huddled under the blankets after being bound, Anon watched her put supplies away. Moving that much had taken a toll on his waining strength as his eyes fluttered shut. 'Don't worry, Nelanna. This is not the worst I've endured… More is to come.' Maybe a sip of water? Barely managing a nod, the elf had quickly succumbed to slumber once more.

    She had barely managed to catch the nod before he drifted into sleep. Nelanna smiled softly, though her eyes were sympathetic. If he wanted something to eat or drink she should probably bring it later so he could rest now. Bringing his temperature down and making sure he gets enough rest was the best thing for him. Of course, he needed food to build up his strength as well.

After remaining in her spot for a few moments longer she turned away and started down the stairs, making sure she quietly closed the door behind her. She made her to the first floor where there was a small living room with a stone fireplace, a small dining area and a place for preparing meals. 

She stopped next to a cabinet as she was passing through the kitchen, and removed a glass and a pitcher. Nelanna set them on the counter for when she returned, then took a canteen from the same cabinet. With that in hand, she made her way outside.

Past the scrambled cobblestone path and all of her gardens was a well, which she approached. Her horse, Jade Vine, was off grazing nearby, still wearing riding tack. It reminded Nelanna that she needed to remove them so her horse could be more comfortable. 

Just as she finished drawing water from the well and filling the canteen, a thrilled shriek sounded from above. She glanced up. There was Sol, her Phoenix, flying high above with brilliant wings of flame. It flew in circles, watching her from above. But she didn’t pay him any attention. She wasn’t cruel; he was just a spoiled bird.

She went back inside and filled the pitcher she had left out with the water she put in the canteen. Then, she proceeded to mix and mash herbs, making a remedy for fever. She was tempted to make him a meal, but she would rather wait until he woke. Otherwise it might cool and spoil. 

All of the errands she had done took about an hour, with the herbal remedy taking the longest. Then, she made her way back up to the third floor, medicine and water in hand, and quietly entered the room where the elfin man lay. 

“Are you awake?” She whispered, just in case he wasn’t. She didn’t want to wake him. 

More images danced through his mind. Memories of harsh dances designed to make the center of attention dizzy. If she fell, the far would take turns kicking at every inch of the body until she stood back up. The dancing resumed, the child felt ill. Beaten, bruised, and broken, she must endure, for she would make everything better. When finally she came, relief would flood as the child was held by the woman. Words would be whispered. For the night, she'd be safe.Anon opened his eyes and stared out at the wall. The woman's face taunted him, a tender memory so cherished, yet more dusty than the pain heaped upon him by Oberon. Eyes like the moon, hair so silky, she always smelled of flowers, not at all like the terrible flora of Feeorin. Never forget, you're a fairy, she said. How he wanted to curl in her lap and be the child once more. Light footsteps upon the stairs signalled his hostess' arrival. Yet, he continued staring at the all , afraid that he'd loose her face into the recesses of the mind again.Still, the soft whisper begged for his attention, and Anon labored as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Watching the woman, the water was accepted with a nod of the head. It was cool, refreshing as he swallowed. "Never forget, you are a fairy". The words haunted him, sapphire eyes staring into the cup with a slight frown furrowing his brows. What was his mother trying to tell him? Fairy…. Oberon was a fairy, she was a fairy. So Anon was a fairy. But what did that have to do with his current situation?Taking another long drag from the cup, the fae requested more water by simply holding it out. As Nelanna poured the water, Anon found himself staring at his own hand. Masculine… Fairy… Magic. Oberon cast the curse… Maybe he can counter it? Pushing the sick feeling down, Anon began to concentrate, using his own magic to attack his father's curse. After a minute, while he felt successful, his body didn't feel better. Draining the water and whatever medicine she wanted to give him, Anon wished there was a way for him to show his gratitude. A bow of the head, a small smile, the snowy haired elf laid back down and attempted to rest again.

    As he laid down to sleep, Nelanna took the water over to the desk and set it on the desk top. There she stood, unmoving, her eyes downcast as she thought about the man. He couldn’t speak, he could barely move and stay awake. He was covered with terrible wounds she wasn’t even sure she could heal. What if they continued to cause him trouble? Would they cause him an early demise? If that were possible. The very thought frightened her, and she turned around and quietly approached him. Despite the pain she new he must be in, he looked surprisingly peaceful while he tried to rest. For once she began to realize just how attractive he was, but immediately she cast the thought aside. He was wounded and in desperate need of help. She felt ashamed for thinking improper things.

With a light sigh, she turned away and walked back over to the desk and took a seat. It had a few drawers, which one she opened and removed a small black book with a rose on the front. It was her journal, which she kept ever since she had left the farm so long ago. Within it were stories of her journeys, as well as notes she had taken about herbs, remedies, potions, and so much more. She knew there was something else wrong with the snowy haired elf, something she couldn’t see and couldn’t fix with her current abilities. There was a glimmer of hope within her that there might be something in her notes to help her, or at least give her an idea on what was wrong. She flipped open the journal to a page with beautiful handwriting in ink and a picture of an herb. There, she began her research.


    Hours of research went by, with occasional glances back at the resting man and only getting up to check his temperature and feed herself. There was nothing she could find within her journal that could be of any help, only raising more questions. She released a heavy sigh and rubbed her head with growing frustration and weariness. Looking up at the window next to the desk, she noticed that the sun had gone down long ago. No wonder she was so tired. With another sigh, she closed the journal and put it back in the drawer. She walked over to the window and closed the curtains, then walked over to the bed.

The man still seemed to be sleeping. She felt his forehead again, only to find that his fever was still high. In fact, it hadn’t seemed to go down at all. So her remedy wasn’t working…she needed to try something else. Perhaps a cold wet rag would at least help make him feel cooler, even if it didn’t help his fever. A cold bath might help cool him as well, but that could wait for when he awakes.

She started towards the door with a yawn and quietly slipped out of the room, down the stairs and to the second floor. This was where her own bedroom was. It was no bigger than the one in the attic, and wasn’t decorated much differently aside from a few paintings on the walls and the furniture was arranged differently. It was also connected to another room, which was where she bathed. This was where she took a rag, one slightly larger than the ones in the medicine kit. They were used for cleansing the body, so she figured they would do just fine for cooling it. 

She took it back upstairs to the third room and slipped in as quietly as she could. After soaking it with cool water from the pitcher, while making sure there was some left in case he woke and wanted water. Then, she folded the rag neatly and sat on the side of the bed, laying the cool rag across his forehead. Without even realizing, she started staring at him again, but it wasn’t because he was attractive. It was because she was worried about him and his well being.

Feeling a sudden flow of determination, she decided to push her tiredness aside and walked over to the bookshelf. She removed several books and took them to the desk. Turning the lantern on, she began her research once more. She would find a way to help him one way or another.