FIRST BATTLE Lying on his knees dazed, crying, screaming and confused. Next to him lay some of his flanking people, looking at their mouth wide open with blood

could be.            “Aseran,” he shook him, “Are you alive?  Speak to me, curse you, speak to me!  Live you fool, live!”            Tears were streaming down his face.  His maddened eyes poured them forth like rain.  They dripped unchecked off his chin.  He now ran screaming frantically.  His sentences were nonsensical and babbled.  He clutched his head.              “It’s not worth it!” he screamed.  “Curse you! Tell me!  How can it be worth it?”            “Do you remember boy?” said a voice from behind him. As he turned he saw the veteran Kenion.  “Do you remember your family and theirs?  Boy, do you remember?  Do you think for even a moment that without this death they would live?  These boys, they were your friends?” He said, pointing to the dead.  “What do you think they died for?  Are you suggesting that they died for nothing?  They died for freedom lad.  The freedom to live in peace and you would do well to remember it.”            The words did nothing to comfort Jarom.  His mind was racing.  The voices of his friends called out to him.  “Help us,” they called.  They raced through his mind and they drove him mad.  He could see their faces.  Those terrible dead faces splotched with blood and filled with dread.  The call was more than he could bear.            “You’re dead!” he screamed, “You can’t speak to me!  Leave me alone!”            It was to no avail.  He screamed only at the air.  There were none left to hear him.  He knew he was going mad but he could not stop the visions.  They crept back into his mind, time after time.  Finally he fell to his knees and clutched his head.              “My Lord Talmiris!” he yelled, “Release me!  I can’t take it anymore!”            It was as if his body passed onto another world.  His knees felt weak suddenly, and he fell to the ground.  It was weird change in reality and time.  The bloodied battlefield drifted from his sight like an ending dream.  When it was done he found himself in a different place.  It was all black, but not dark.  More like an absence of light and dark at the same time.  He stood as if suspended in this existence and yet somehow something supported his feet and allowed him to walk.            He saw a warrior all clothed in white.  Light emanated from his body.  He held the look of a being higher than life.  As if he had achieved an existence much higher than any of mortal birth.             “My name is Renindar,” he said clear and true, “Do you know me?”            “Yes,” he nodded, “you are one of the immortals told of the ancient days.”            “I am an immortal as you speak of but not of old.  I live now as real as you.  Do you know what you have done this day?”            “I know that I shed blood that didn’t need to be shed.  I should have died this day.  I should have dropped my sword and welcomed death but instead I let my anger take control and I killed countless men.”            The immortal strode closer to Jarom.  Close enough that he could see the red locks of hair that flowed down his shoulders.  His pale blue skin and yellow eyes had a presence of emblazoned fire.  That presence was holy and powerful.  He felt as if he should cower from the man’s body and bow before him.            “I am not worthy to stand before you now!” Jarom cried, “You are so much more than I!”            “I will make you worthy,” replied Renindar, “You are as much a servant of this place as I am.”            He looked into Jarom’s eyes and he could not look away.  It was as if a power passed through them that gave him the strength to rise. “You killed humans.” Reninder said, “Humans that attacked eleven settlements.  That alone was in no way evil.  You were only saving those for whom you cared for and loved most.  That was not your sin.  Do you remember when you lost yourself on the battlefield?”            “I remember it.” Jarom scowled. “Killing in hot rage is a sin, but not the protection of your people. Anger should have no place among you.  I know you, Jarom.  I know your soul and it is not of you to react in such a way.” Said Reninder            “Jarom, the time of my people is passing.  Much of us have been taken in corruption.  Soon all that we know will be destroyed.  I have foreseen it, as well as my own demise.  You, Jarom, are a descendant of the noble elves, and an heir to the house of Diriviale.  In time you shall be as a light unto the world.  It shall be under your reign that peace shall finally settle upon this world.  This is what you must become.” Said Reninder             With that Renindar took a sword from his back and drew it from its scabbard.  The beauty of the shimmering white blade defied all description.  There was a power to be seen in the mere look of the blade.  An angels outspread wings were its hilt and its handle was the angels body clasping a down turned great sword.  Its feet rested on a round globe that made up the pommel.              “This sword’s name is Verluin,” he said, “With it I present upon you the power to control your passions and call upon me in all your times of need and remember.”            When Jarom grabbed the sword he found himself once again on the battlefield but he was changed.  His eyes bore nobility instead of madness and several strands of his hair were shot white.  He returned to his people a protector of all innocent beings and an upholder of the light.