There is no certain time frame in which to lay the following events, in fact, laying down the various roots and branches of any elf's family tree is a job better left to scribes of Deneir and Gond, monks who care about nothing more than the keeping of literature than lives in these Realms. We shall find a point, however, and call it a beginning, knowing that, especially for Elves, it was neither a beginning, nor an end - but it was indeed a start for this particular branch.

We find our story nestled in the frail bosom of Qulinia Galastacia, a High Elf of the family Mahtannos, although she preferred to keep her own maiden name as was the case. An eccentric member of the family, even for Elves, she left her family and everyone she knew, eloping with her love, Thorian Siansigen. There is much to be said about the xenophobic tendencies of the Elves, and although the good Siansigen was indeed an Elf, his particular line descended from the Wood Elves of the region.

But I digress.

The story does not yet begin here, but one generation further, nearly a hundred or so years later, with Sillen Siansigen - the daughter of the aforementioned lovers, a mixture of High and Wood Elven heritage nestled into a small, fiery maiden. High Elven roots grew strong in this one, and the female Siansigen grew into a strong and powerful woman - open-minded and politically sound in a world quickly growing into a Human dominated society. The Elves, of all races and creeds, retreated from most of the other races, but a young and strong-willed Sillen was determined to hold her keep, and her family, firm in the spot where she laid her seeds.

And lay her seeds she had.

It was common knowledge that Wild Elves - nomadic hunters and gatherers of a not-so-far distant shoot off of their High Elf and Wood Elf cousins - lived and roamed the countryside just outside of Ferdham. It was a small tribe, called the Three Oaks, that occasionally aided in the repair and maintenance of forest trails and roads, and also readily traded certain goods inside the town of Ferdham. Sillen, a high class member of the town, knew well of the tribe, and did everything she could to bring the small tribe into a more civilized, anchored society. And through such desires, she quickly became acquainted, nay, in love, with the leader of the tribe, Metji Moonhollow.

Metji was a strong man with simple principles. He lived for the tribe, as they lived for him. His body was honed on the harsh existence without the luxuries provided by towns and cities, and he relished in the simplicity of life his tribes experienced. He was a strong, fair leader, who's countless scars told more than enough tales of leading them to victory against the likes of orcs, goblins, and trolls throughout the tribes nomadic travels.

However, as this editor will note, man, be it elven, goblin, human, dwarven, or else, will always be man - and few, if any, can ever escape the allure of a woman who has set out with a goal in her eye - especially when that goal IS that man.

And so it came to be that Metji, with very little prodding, fell in love with Sillen, and a family was soon to be brought into this world. In typical Galastcian' line, Sillen, a half High and Wood Elf, married and was soon laden with child from her Wild Elven lover.

It was always a desire to see the Wild Elven tribe brought into the town, increasing the resident Elven population, for Sillen. For months, she begged, pleaded, berated, and bribed Metji to bring the tribe into town. Stoically he refused, adventuring for weeks at a time alone as the tribe made camp in the forests north of the town. He would return for a few days, only to be attacked again by Sillen as she worked her beauty, charm, and will over the soon-to-be Father.

Until, finally, she pursuaded him to at least accompany her to the town of Ferdham to witness the birth of his children.

Labor was long and hard for the elven mother, and not even the wetnurse could keep clean linen's and warm water enough to suffice for the lengthy birth. Metji watched from the corner of the room, his back to a wall as he watched the strange townspeople performing various medical techiniques on his lover, waiting patiently and nervously for the birth.

Sillen's screams echoed deep into the night, and throughout Metji's years of battling orcs and goblins, fighting alongside his tribesmen....the cries that announced that he was finally a father were nearly too much to bear. A small moment of silence was broken by that of the newborn infant's crying, and Metji looked up and watched as it was whisked away into another room. No sooner had the wetnurse returned did more screams tear themselves free from Sillen's mouth as the second labor came. Twins were omens - both good and bad, depending on many things for the Three Oaks tribe. To Metji, that evening, the twins were an omen of doom.

Sillen, covered in sweat, finally released the second of the children into the waiting arms of the wetnurse, however, in the moments of silence and panting, no infant cry sprang up to steal the hearts of the audience. The infant, much smaller than the first, was nearly black with unoxygenated blood in its body. Sillen, exhausted, passed out as the wetnurse and her assistant sobbed at the misfortune.

Metji just sat there, staring at where his second child, his daughter, should be.

That morning, Metji, and Matje disappeared. The cool air whipped in Metji's face, and he bundled the small infant against his chest, under his tunic, as he ran for the forest, racing against dawn's first rays as he escaped the town with his only child in bear. In town, Sillen slept soundlessly....


This, again, is neither a beginning, nor an end, to our story. Metji raised Matje with the tribe, and he learned and grew up to be a fierce warrior and great hunter, with a strong sense of pride. He worried his father at times, showing a strong will and a bullshead of impatience with many decisions - traits he clearly recognized stemming from his mother.

Years passed, and Metji grew old as Matje grew mature. It had been 140 years to the day, in fact, since his birth. The tribe, having moved far to the south, found itself struggling to escape the notice of a large goblin tribe which had overrun the tribes previous hunting grounds. In a last struggle, Metji led his tribesman forth in a wedge formation, his son at his side, opening a wide enough gap for the women and children of the tribe to flee to the north. The battle a stalemate for some time, Matje moved his sword and mace in concert with his fathers spear, eventually bringing the wedge around and into a closed diamond formation, angling to flee in pursuit of their now-safe family members. The goblins gave chase, and nearly all the men of the tribe escaped free. All, except for Metji, who in leading and ordering his tribesmen through the battle, caught a goblin's poisoned spear in the chest. Matje retrieved his father, breaking the spear shaft and carrying him to safety.

The tribe made slow passage northward, making camp at the summit of a mountain range to endure the cold season ahead. Metji's health dwindled, and he announced that until he was well, Matje was to lead the tribe in foraging and hunting. It was a big step for the young Elf warrior, and one he would not be able to take. Before the winter set in, a small caravan arrived from the north. At their head, a single elven female. It would be Sillen Siansigen - Matje's mother.

After a brief meeting with Metji, Sillen decided that there would be only one way to force the stubborn man to come back to Ferdham - and that was to kidnap his only son. Through magics feared and misunderstood by most of the wild tribe, and a not so small amount of strongarming from Sillen's guards, Matje was tucked away and brought back to the town of his birth.

For years Matje was forced to be educated by Humans and High Elves, wearing strange clothes and learning foreign customs and mannerisms, all the while guarded by Sillen's watchmen. Every day and every night he was tied to his bed to keep from escaping, all beneath his mother's 'loving gaze'.

Matje longed for nights under the stars, hunting with his tribe, and living with his father. He longed to be in the woods, in the wild, ambushing goblin patrols, hunting white tailed deer, or even plowing the fields for the fall harvest before the cold months set in.

Matje began to plan escapes, and even managed to evade his guards and make it to the edge of town once before being captured again. It took several years of planning, and many years of failed attempts, until finally Matje managed to escape and flee the town in full, robbing his mother's own house for goods and weapons that might help keep him alive as he headed south in search of his tribe - looking over his back constantly in fear that his mother might be swift on his heels.

His flight is by night only, afraid of being seen in the middle of the day. He camps in the boughs of trees with no campfire or tent to signify his presence. A fierce shriek from somewhere to the southeast of him brings him out of his reverie one night, and he moves to flank and investigate the disturbance...

And so it begins...or continues, in the least, for this is neither the beginning of Matje's tale, nor the end, but merely a particular starting point for a tale to be continued on....