"Mountain Elves "
by Mordiazi

Ed.Note: This piece is published in conjunction with the one following, "Why Elves Can't Be Trusted." Please bear in mind that
both are the opinions of their authors and do not represent the stance of Waerd Aev or the Realms.

This article in which you are about to read is {what I know as} the true history of the Mountain Elves and their Dwarven slavers. Know that all within is fact {as I know it}, and that all else is pure fiction or a distorted tale aimed at creating friction and conflict.

I write this after overhearing that one of the most recognized racists in the realms has taken it upon himself to write one of these distorted tales. My generation of Elves and the younger generation of Dwarves are finally forgiving others for their past transgressions against our races. Today it is not out of the ordinary to find Dwarves and Elves sitting together around a table enjoying an ale or hunting together against fierce foes; some even fall in love.

It is my wish that you remember while reading this text that the group of Dwarves that committed this crime were but a small and vile faction of an otherwise honorable race. It is also my wish that you heed not what that racist has written and continue to foster the forgiveness that has made possible our current reconciliation.

About two thousand and nine hundred years prior to the victory of Lanival, a small group of Wind Elves encamped in the shadows of the great Dragon Spine Mountains. A party of Dwarves approached, inviting the Elves to a great feast. The Elves, though apprehensive, accepted the invitation and made their way to the caves that this Dwarven Clan called home.

In a great cavern, they gathered, young and old. They sat in a great circle, but soon rose to show respect to the Dwarven King as he entered. The King spoke of kindness, of new trade and of friendship. He clapped his hands twice, and the room filled with Dwarves carrying huge plates of food and even larger pitchers of ale. The young Elves were gathered and taken to a place where they could play while the elders ate . . . or so they were told.

After the elder Elves had eaten their fill, it seemed as if their Dwarven hosts were waiting for something. Soon it became apparent that something was wrong. One by one the Elves fell asleep, never to wake again. The young ones, as you may have guessed, were not taken to a place to play but to a place where they were imprisoned in stone cells, never to see their families again.

During the next one hundred and fifty years, these young Elves were used as slaves. They did everything for those Dwarves. They cooked, cleaned, worked the mines and tended to other trivial matters. There was one among the slaves who could take it no longer; her name was Morganae.

Morganae soon hatched a plan to free her fellow Elves. Remember, one of their tasks was to cook and feed the Dwarves. For months, Morganae and her fellow slaves worked to collect the moss that would be made into a powerful poison. Then the day came.

The Elves mixed the poison moss into the Dwarves' food and served it to their masters. One by one the slavers fell, until the whole clan was extinct. The Elves, with memories of their youth on the beautiful plains, the sun shining from the sky and the wind in their hair, rushed for the exit of their prison. When the first rays of sunshine hit their eyes, they were forced to close their eyes in pain and felt sick to their stomachs. One hundred and fifty years they had lived without the sunlight, and now they couldn't even bear the sight of it.

Making their way back into the darkness, the Elves gathered to collect their thoughts and make a decision about their future. It was decided that they remain in the home of their former masters, working and living as the Dwarves had before them. T hey named Morganae their queen. They pounded the large golden crown of the Dwarven king into a slim circlet, which Her Majesty still uses as her crown to this day.

This small group of Wind Elves became known as the Mountain Elves. Due to their past they are very isolationist and very untrusting of Dwarves. It is my wish that they someday are able to overcome the pain of their past, as the rest of us have. I am a Forest Elf and have not a clue of how they must feel or how long it will take them to undertake the reconciliation, though I will never give up hope.

Written by my hand on 93 Lirisa 364,

Mordiazi Neus
Voice of the Dirge Council and Elven Historian.