"The lament of Myth'andi."

Myth'andi was sitting ,where he is often found, around the camp fire in the Refugee Camp. He sat that evening with a small green book and was studying it.

He flipped absent-mindedly through the small book. His mind filled with plans and ideas. For weeks he had been pursuing information of the Half-drow slave. It was the sight of her pain, one happenstance day, while he was visiting Shadowdale in disguise, that had inflamed his mind.

He had spent days watching for her under his magics in Shadowdale. he watched the guards movement he plotted them finding pattern to exploit. He talked with those who may know anything about. The man known as Olaf had given him her name, the Zhents had giving him her plight he had even attempted to talk with the Elistreens about what they may know.

He shivers at the thought of Elistreens. So strange, so not what he had expected as Dhaerow.

He had worked so hard to figure our a way to rescue this girl.

His mind was filled with the frustrations of his puzzle. When his ears picked up on the conversation of the guard.

"Ya I heard from the boatman that two hallf-Dhaerow attempted access to the city this evening. But they got what all of the Children of the Betrayer deserve. Arrows to the back. And now their vile bodies will be food for those beast men"

Mythandi's world began to spin. In his heart he knew Hellen was one of the Half-drow, he knew not why. His heart shattered into a thousand pieces, his head swam with regret. His mind flashed with what could halve been done, what should have been done. His feet found him in Myth'drannor through his haze of pain. He stood in front of the Temple of the Tel'Seldarine.

He fell into the temple which a frantic gate. he slid and stumbled and collapsed at the foot of the Statue of Corellon.
Tears filling his eye, the pain and sorrow filled his soul.

His sorrow reached into him into his tie with the weave, the place where his magic lived. His magic reached filled with despair, it reached to the Mythal. The words and pain of a thousand elves flowed through him. Their words, their reget filled his mind. From his lips a song began to form. A forlorn lament of a thousand elves who where unable to save those they loved, a song of sadness to carry the hope and pain to Arvandor. To beg pardon and relinquishment from the pain of loss to the Tel'Seldarine. To ask for it to end, to ask for a solution, and finally to ask for forgiveness for their failure. The Mythal carried this song out from the Temple to every elf it touched it pulled at the sadness in their soul for the forgotten, for the lost, for those whose hate, and for those who are hated.

Sayiel was told her husband student was in sorrow in the temple and rushed there, only when she entered the temple did she stop running. Slowly, discretely, she walk toward him and put a caring hand on him, taking him slowly in her harms to sway him like a child. She didn't knew what is sorrow was, but seeing him like this was a pain in her heart and she knew the young elf to be of a kind heart, maybe too much, but also knew she would protect that purety no matter what. She had lost hers so long ago, she didn't wanted Myth to lose his.

She wasn't a good singer, but she had some voice and she slowly started to sing him a lullaby to calm him. A lullaby prayer to Sehanine for guidance in mist path and in life, to unreaveal her mystery to help those lost. Trying to calm Myth'andi's pain.

When he is a bit more calm, enough to hear her, she speak in a soft voice.

"I have a good news for you Myth, the half-drow slave was saved, she is in the protection of the Dwarf right now."

Time and the world was gone now. Mythy'andi seemed to be flowing in the weave its self. It rushed and flowed like a river. And he was stretched thin all at once he was in every part of Cormanthor. He felt the minds of all who walked in the woods he felt ... fear. Fear a bitter sickness filling everyone and everything, a posion seeping threw the tree's like a silent plague.

Then the Mythal pulled him back.. Far back to before she even existed, but she was a part of the weave and the weave is eternal. She yes the Mythal was most certainly a she.

He felt what flowed at this time and it was fear, true fear, fear of the future, Fear of the interlopers fear of the humans.

Then forward, he was flung to her birth, he saw it like a song, and raveling through the city. He felt true joy true happiness.
But most of all he felt Hope. Hope.... Hope felt so foreign to him. he had spent so many year through the thoughts of the Mythal feeling fear, but hope hope was lie. Every person knew that Hope was a fools emotion.

Darkness and madness set in to Myth'andi. His world became despair. He know nothing but nihilism for an eternity in the arms of the Elves Lament.

Then a song began to pierce sorrow. First just whisper then like a chorus, the sweet words of a child's lullaby. In his mind Myth'andi could see two elves and they smiled. One carried a long Sword and the other carried a Bow and the seemed proud of him.

Then the warmth of the lullaby wraped around him and pulled him from the nightmare eternity, he felt the words of sorrow leave his soul. And then almost hesitantly the Mythal released him. She had shown him the truth, she had shown him the past and now he knew the steps for the future.

His body collapses against Sayiel. He hears her words and hope begins to fill him.

"This is good news. Very good news. We have Hope."

Mythandi's body goes limp, his reverie is deep.