Uelma Faya has sent missive for  Yeste Cetrok to report to the Mystic Seaport.  The wind is blowing and the daybreak is but moments away:

Cetrok arrives shortly wearing a light tunic and approaches Faya ignoring the wind that blows in his face. Bending to one knee and bowing his head, "You sent for me Uelma."  Faya nods lightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Indeed, and I suppose you have achieved what I have writ in the missive?" She looks at him as she steps from the edge of the dock.

Cetrok stands to his full height and shadows seem to dwell in his eyes. "Aye that I have, or at least I've attempted as such." He looks off into the horizon with the sunlight growing brighter as daybreak approaches.  Faya links her fingers together slowly, placing them in front of her. "Then let us see what you have brought." She eyes him with a brief smile on well formed lips. 

The sun rises in the east.

Cetrok looks at the ground and seems to be thinking earnestly about something. Momentarily he reaches in and pulls an object wrapped in a dirty, blood splotched cloth from his carry pouch and holds it firmly in his hands.  Faya looks at the wrapped object with faint interest. She does not move forward to see it however. Her chin lifts, and she waits, white brows placid and unarched.  Cetrok speaks with a heavy tone, "That which you bade me seek I've searched long and hard for. Much thought I put into looking for this and I..." his voice trails off suddenly.  Faya unlinks her fingers, and rests a hand on her hip. "And what did you find?"  

Cetrok reaches up rubs his temple then shrugs off a thought. Unfolding the cloth he reveals a blade the length of a sword and covered in dark red stains from hilt to tip. Speaking softly, "This is what the elder named Sarenj."  Cetrok places the blade, cloth and all upon a crate.  Faya gives the blade a long look, her amber eyes trailing its length. The wind picks up speed, fluttering cloth and clothing. "And what does this sword do?" She is apparently unperturbed by the blood and stains.

Cetrok furls his forhead in concern and his mouth curls into a frown. "It's powers I've yet to see, only the rumors. The only thing of it is the damned blade bleeds. I discovered this while trying to clean the blade after slaying the mad Orc who held it.  Cetrok appears to become disturbed by the images recalled in his mind as he attempts to push them back into submission.


Faya bends, eyes shifting to look at the blood, and back at the blade. Her fingers touch the faded scars on her face quickly, before her hand drops limp. "Where did you find this?"  Faya eyes him from her bent position, before straightening up, smoothing down her gown and cloak. There is a slight concern in her tone of voice, but her face is expressionless.

Cetrok struggles to find words to describe the images racing through his mind. Stammering, "In... a cave..." Faya dips a finger down to run the length of the blade. She does not look at it but at him. "Is there something else you do not want to tell me?"


He nods in acknowledgement and replies  'But I shall, you should know.'
You say 'In my searching I came across an aging elf druid. I told him of my missive and asked where I might seek that which you requested me.'  Faya lifts up her hand, turning it up palm up as she listens. She rubs her fingers together slowly, nodding at intervals at him.  Cetrok clasping his hands in front of him continues, "There was something odd about the man... I still can't place what it was but after some thought he told me of this blade and told me to seek it in Moria, and that is what I did." 


Faya 's eyes widen a little, before sinking back into their placid almond slant. "Moria.... " She looks at the dried flakes on her skin.
Cetrok rubs his throat and looks into the distance. After a moment he speaks in a nervous tone, "I found it on an Orc." Looking up at Faya and as a tear rolls down his cheek. "The girl was dead when I got there, there was nothing I could do for her."  Faya gives him a sharp look. "Girl?"  Cetrok with pain in his voice, "The Orc was rubbing the blade all over her, he was mad and had no clue what he was doing, just rubbing the sword and the blood was everywhere...


Faya gives the blade one last look and her gaze alights on him. "Pick up the blade."  You say 'Do you not wish to know of its power?'  Faya begins to undo the ribbon of her cloak. "Pick up the blade." She intones again.
Cetrok wraps the blade in the cloth and holds it in picks it up from the crate. 

Cetrok looks at Faya and says but one word "Fertility"  Faya ignores what he says, and from her side, she draws out another blade. Long and thin, and silvery like a ray of moonlight. She rolls the hilt in her end, testing its weight.  Faya eyes him slowly. "Unclothe the blade, and wield it."  Cetrok looks at Faya a moment and his eye grow wide as he realizes the meaning of her words."

Cetrok narrows his eyes a moment and says quite sternly, "The girl was infertile, she sought the blade to change that which was taken from her. The blade was forged by Adonia, how it works I know not, as for how it came to be in the Orc's possesion is unknown to me.  

Faya allows her cloak to drop to the ground in a crumple. She holds her blade steady, its gleaming point outwards facing him.  Cetrok takes a small but obvious step back.  Faya gives off a slight chuckle. "Adonia's ways are unknown to me; I no longer sacrifice to her...." She gives him a long thoughtful look. "A blade of fertility? I would see if it is so. Wield it and fight me." 

Cetrok with reluctance uncovers the blade and allows the rag to fall to the ground. As it hits the ground a drop of blood falls from the blade. "I do not wish to fight you Faya."  Cetrok assumes a defensive stance and continues to speak in a matter of fact tone, "Nor do I follow Adonia, but the power is here in the blood somewhere. The girl sacrificed herself for that gift." Looks into the amber eyes of the Uelma.


Faya turns the blade slowly in her hand, letting it catch the quick flash of the lightning coursing through the sky. "Now, why would Adonia create such a blade." She lifts her chin up to the wind, grinning.  Faya holds her sword outwards, tip edging towards Cetrok. "And why did you bring this blade back here, of all tthe others you would have or could have found?"
Cetrok raises an eyebrow at Faya, "Tis maybe a lost cause, yet such is fertility itself. As for the reasons of a Gods thinking I do not know and cannot comprehend." He scuffs his foot lightly kicking the red rag away.

Cetrok blinks as another drop of blood falls from the deadly tip, "The Druid said you call for the sword unknowingly. I did not know of its powers until I returned it blood, girl, and all to him." Again he looks at the ground.  Faya grins, a muted laugh escaping from her lips. "That druid has weak ears, my First." She lowers her sword. "Now, why do you think he says I call for this sword?"

Cetrok digs up a piece of memory he'd tucked away, "A broken womb healed is a grief stricken mothers call for the blade to return to her that which was taken, the gift of Adonia, bestowed by Sarenj"


Faya gives him another thoughtful look. She drives her sword into the planks, letting it stand upright, before pulling herself up to sit on an empty crate while she looks at him, expression flat. "Then you brought back the wrong sword."  Cetrok turns to a thought and says, "The sword bleeds, that is unique my task has been completed. As for its other powers I leave that to you, I have no further use for it." He attempts to offer it to her.


Faya lays a hand on her belly. "Here, no longer cries." Her hand lifts, palm facing out to deny the sword.  "Here, no longer beats." She places her hand on her heart. "The sword becomes only unique when...  You offer it to the one who will need it. I do not need it. It is not unique."

Cetrok thinks for a moment, "Then answer me this. I know little of your past yet in the possession of this sword I've had dreams of Orcs, a mother and her unborn baby. The scares on your face and arms eerily match those of the claw marks in the nightmare.  Faya clicks her heels slowly together. "Go on."  Continuing Cetrok says, "There was a hunger in the dreams, not of my own but of unborn life fading before its time." Lowering his voice and his eyes, "And a deep sadness driven by bitter maddness."

Faya gives him a chucke and a smile. "Indeed, my First. So what do you make out of all these?" She gives the sword a glance before swirling her gaze back on him. "It is all very true what you speak. But that was when my heart still beat with my blood."  


Faya slips down from the crate, smoothing down a fold in her gown. "I can verily assure you, your dreams, and what you have experienced. Would be that of past memories that refused to die in that place." She smiles and shakes her head.  Cetrok thinks distractedly and mutters, "What if it were to beat with your own again?"  Faya says 'It will never.'


Faya puts her hand gently over where her heart is, splaying fingers slightly. "This heart beats with the blood of my husband. In him, my blood beats."  Faya says 'If it were to beat with my own again. It is when I die. Or he dies.'

Cetrok stares at the dried blood on his palm, "Tis the blood of the unborn, of your own unborn maybe. Would you truly deny the possibility of the gift offered?"  Faya picks up her sword, pulling it from the planks. "My First, my unborn has been born. That is why I say this druid has bad ears."

You say 'You paid a price in my dreams, who said it had to be forever.'
Faya shakes her head slowly. "My child sleeps in the sarcophagus with her vampire father." She glances at the blood, and brings her fingers up to her lips. "This blood is not mine, my First."

You say 'Something died that day, and has plagued my dreams for the past several days.'  Faya says 'This blood is not my child's, nor mine. This sword, I do not need.'  Faya says 'My child is reborn, she is well, and good. Her father feeds her well.'

You say 'Is she reborn as she would have been or as she is now, or something wholly different?'  Faya wraps back her sword and bends to pick up her cloak. "The images you perceive, the dreams you dream. Is perhaps another's?"  Faya says 'She is always what she is, my child.'

Faya swirls the cloak upon her shoulder. "The sword will be unique to someone who will have use for it. I believe you just absorbed the dying dredges of a terrible time in my past... and mistaken it."
Cetrok raises an eyebrow, "Tis yet unique in its own. Just because you have no further use for it does not make it less unique. The word you said was unique not useful."


Faya walks up to him and touches his shoulder with her cold fingertips. "Find someone who will need this sword more than me. Only then I will deem it unique.  Be it Elf, Dwarf, Vampire, Human."


Faya says 'As well, find out how the sword works; how does it instill fertility into a barren one. And why Adonia would create such a thing.'
Cetrok looks at the morning sunlight as it slowly traverses its way across the blue sky, "The sword plagues my sleep, I shouldn't want to give it to someone else for fear of the consequences, I know only of you and the past with which it spoke to me.  It has made my heart heavy in its keeping, maybe that was the reason the Orc had gone mad."


Faya arches an eyebrow slowly.  Faya says 'So if you are afraid, you can give it to me. I have someone in mind to safekeep this artifact'  Cetrok bends down and slowly wraps the sword in the bloodied rag. Standing up he offers Sarenj cloth, blood, and all to Faya.


Faya gives him a soft look and her fingers curl around the sword. "And you fear this blade?  "I provide you one more chance. Take this blade and investigate more into its nature, and find one person who will have use for it."  

Cetrok looks with searching eyes at Faya, "All I know is it was created by the Goddess of lost causes. A girl sacrificed her life for her desire to bear life, an orc lost his sanity if they have a mind at all, and I now have a heavy heart"  Faya 's fingers curl and harden over the sword. "So be it."  Cetrok says "I will investigate but I fear to hold it in my own."

Faya sweeps the folds of her cloak under the sword. "Than the investigation is worthless. You can remain a child for the rest of the path, my First."  A flash of anger swarms across Cetrok's face, "Tis a child who would deny fear in a pointless quest for a truth that may not be. You would have me search a lost cause at the risk of my own sanity, possibly others?"


Faya eyes him coldly. "You brought this sword here. You should have taken full responsibility of it." She continues to keep the sword hidden in the folds of her cloak.   Faya continues, in the same flat tone. "There are ways to overcome such adversities; if you do not try now, than you can remain a child forever hiding in the shadows, fearing to risk."  Cetrok says "I have no guidance, only a feeling of despair. Help me if you believe me worth it."

Faya retreats a few steps, eyes darkening to burnt amber. "Ah, my First. I have guided you already." She opens her cloak and takes out the blade, holding it horizontally to him. "Take it then, or leave it here." Cetrok looks at the blade then to Faya. Reaching a decision he grabs it places it in his pouch turns and walks away without being dismissed as the sun reaches towards noon.


Faya 's hands slip back into her cloak. A brief smile touches her pale lips before she moves back to the end of the docks to watch the spinning gulls.

November 27, 2001