Chapter 1: King's Own Fool

Hang scowled and tugged on her gauntled gloves. Under the cover of her padded armour, she felt stuffy but inexplainably safe. Spiked and sharp-edged dark red spikes crawled across every inch of her body, save her face. A cruel rapier and two kukris hung low on her hips, and the desert elven emblem of a sword against the sunset was embroided with dull colours on her billowing cloak.

She watched herself in the mirror-- the dark of her skin which did not sit well with the other desert elves, the intense violet colour of her irises and the smirk of her lips. Hang rolled her long braids and ringlets up and slipped a metal mask over her face. The jawline had a hinge so that she could speak without hindrance, and two holes allowed her to breathe easily. Her visage had changed into a blank sickly yellow face, of no definite gender. Winged ears poked out from both sides, and rainbow stones were embedded in the metal.

The ceremonial mask was a trait of the strange but exotic desert elves. Hang would have rather navigated an ogre-infested forest than worn the uncomfortable mask, but it had been made a rule. After all, she thought to herself, how can one not dress up for the all important Thousand Year Banquet of the Elves? The desert elf girl snorted derisively. The Banquet was supposed to be a prestigious event, a celebration every thousand years when elves of all races gathered together in the palace of the Grand High Elf. She shook her ghastly new head and sighed. Sitting around with a bunch of old fogeys was hardly the way she had intended to spend the day.

Hang turned away from the mirror and surveyed the alien room yet again. As one of the guests as the Banquet, she had the 'privelege' of staying in the Grand High Elf's palace. It came as quite a relief to her, as she had been away from her desert home for so long she doubted they would recognise her. With a baleful sigh, she opened the door and stepped out into the bustling hallway.

Gaunt guards stood vigil at every doorstep. She looked on from a small cranny as pairs or groups of elves strolled down the hall. There were the High elves, in their lavish gowns and gleaming doublets; the Grey elves with their wizards' robes and slender frames; the Moon elves dressed in white or silver or even gold gossamer clothes which seemed like a second skin; the Sun elves, with folds of white and gold ringlets; the Wild elves in leather attire and feathered braids. They looked all the same to Hang, just another soul passing by. How utterly boring this night would be, she thought to herself. How absolutely boring.

Hang filed into the crowd, flowing among others like part of a stream. She felt stuck in a world of her own, hearing voices singing in her ear and the far off sounds of music and drums and cymbals. The song rose in eerie crescendo, and she tried to shake the notes form her head. The whole world seemed another place altogether-- just a fragment of her memory. She imagined a burning desert, pyramids lining the horizon. She saw angled buildings lining straight streets, shady plam trees and noisy bazaars. Suddenly, she was bustled about in the market crowd, squeezing against bodies. A flash of silver caught her eye, and Hang turned to see a figure stand out in the midst of others. Pale skin gleamed in the light, and his hair shone a shade lighter. The elf startled her, and as her vision faded away back to the crowds of elves, the elf of no race still remained a spot in the crowds.

"Move along!" someone shoved her from behind. Hang hadn't even realised that she'd not moved at all. With an insistent shake of her masked head, she forgot about the whole strangeness of her daydream and continued down the hallway.

She passed a million tapestries, hundreds of stern elves scowling down at her from the walls and sconces set with torches to chase away the cold. It was not long before the huge doors loomed in sight, made of the finest oak. A moonbeam chandelier twirled across the enormous room, and tables upon rows of tables lined the grand hall. The best fiddlers and musicians in all of Aelun played atop a raised platform, entertaining the guests. Hang shuffled quickly to the table at the darkest corner of the room. Hopefully, no one would see her amusing herself while the other elfin races merried about.

She sat down and eyed the food with little interest. Hunger was not an issue with her, and the food made her feel all the more apalled with the effort the Grand High Elf and his Queen had put into the Banquet. The food looked two thirds decoration and one third food. Hang cupped one hand on her metal-clad chin and watched as more elves came in. Beside her a male sun elf chose to make his entry, along with a whole group of other nobles. Her other side was flanked by a chatty old Grey elven lady, her silver hair piled up amazingly high. And, lo and behold, across the table from her sat the elf.

Hang tried not to look him in the eye, for his irises glowed eerily turquoise of the sea. She suddenly felt glad for the mask, for his stare was like a million daggers of icicles. She took a sudden interest in the fried buns and busied herself with memorising every patch of oil on the shiny brown shell.

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im so laxy ne? dis willl be da start of my new story=) dunno i kinda liked it...will be left as so till further notice, cuz nat hasnt sent me her darn pix=P