Jila explained to Alliliel that the orc raids on the Northman territory had been vicious, as the gnolls had cut off the orc's southern food supplies. This season alone, 46 warriors had gone missing when coming back from the hunt. The security of the food stores would determine if the clans were to survive the winter.

Alliliel knew the viciousness of the orc tribes on Faydwer and suspected that the barren and harsh land of Everfrost made these ones even crueler. The War Council had decided that a strike against the southern orc camps if sufficiently powerful, would cause them to retreat into the north towards Permafrost, a fell land where few traveled.

The Elf bade Jila a good night. Kneeling down, Alliliel took out her golden hammer that had been a gift from the Temple of Marr in Freeport. Annalaurë , she had named it, the golden-gift. Never did she expect to wield it in anything other than ceremony. Holding it to her chest, she opened the Book of Songs of Tunare and began to pray.

-----

The sun’s light leapt out of the east. Alliliel looked up and met the morning with a dread heart. This was not her war. Arms were neither her training nor the calling of her heart. Orcs knew no love for the handiwork of Tunare. Much of the western Faydark, long in the growing had been swift in the felling under their vicious assaults on the land. Many of Tunare’s druids had worked much magic to cure the hurts of the Orcs, but the land near their citadel was marked with darkness and little would grow there.

Alliliel remembered a day from long ago. A young elfgirl stood, clad in white, before the Master.

"Alliliel, will you be the vessel of Tunare’s wondrous powers and heal the ill? Will you be merciful to any that ask it? Will you show compassion to the poor and strangers, and defend those who have no helper? Will you smite those who would have Tunare thrown down? Will you be strong in war and gentle in peace?"

The elf stood up and faced the rising sun.

The cold of Everfrost was bitter, but Alliliel’s heart was now light. She hurried south to find Jila.

----

The clanging of swords had long since passed. Black birds circles overhead, harbingers of death, they crowed at the rising moon.

On the frozen Plains of Ghellid, hundreds lay slain. Orcs and Northmen had battled and the day had ended. Northmen children ran about the field, slitting the throats of any fallen orc that breathed still. Alliliel stood holding her hammer, covered in blood. Her reverie spoiled by a young girl. She was cutting off the hands of the orcs as trophies for her clan. Stopping in front of the elf, she offered a pair up to the cleric.

The girl smiled as she held the hands, still steaming in the cold up as an offering. Alliliel, her eyes distant, looked down upon the girl and with the barest motion, shook her head ‘No.’ The girl shrugged, cleaned her knife on her fur leggings and ran off to find more tokens of the battle.

The elf shook her head and turned south, back to the camp.

----

Alliliel came to the main camp and began her work on the wounded, healing those whose hurts she could manage and making the passing easier for those she could not. The stench of death overcame the sterile frigid air and the returning war parties stayed away except to drop their wounded at the feet of the cleric.

She was busy with many, the dead were mingled with the living and it took some effort to find those still clinging to life. Turning around, she came up short.

Luth stood, making no sound with Jila in his arms. Her flesh was sundered from the bone in many places. Luth, in the manner of his people made no sound of grief.

The cleric put her hands on the woman, listening to her healing senses.

“The Oracle put his spells on me, she stopped it and killed him, it was a sight to see. This story will be told to our children,” said Luth. He told how at the end of the battle, the Orc Warlord and his Oracle were rallying the orcs to a final assault against the Northmen. Luth raised his sword and gave a mighty cry, Jila and her brothers at his side. The Warlord raised his axe to strike Luth as the Oracle put many dark magics upon him. Luth felt the magics working on him, and he saw the blow from the Warlord coming to end his life. Trying to raise his mighty shield, he knew it would be too slow. The spear came suddenly and struck the Oracle in his chest. He fell back onto the snow and moved no more. Jila’s blow had been deadly and swift and Luth, free from the fell magic of the Oracle, easily dodged the blow of the Warlord. In a mighty strike, Luth struck the Warlord and the next sound heard was of the headless body falling to the ground.

Seeing their captain fall, the orcs ran as those free from reason. Some fell on their faces and sued for mercy, others ran as fast as their twisted orc bodies would allow. A final few knowing the terrible anger of the Northmen and desiring to save whatever honor orcs would claim, faced the onslaught of the Northmen in a last stand, Luth and Jila as the left and right hands of their defeat, being the main targets.

Luth had many arrows in him and many more wounds, but he paid them no mind as he lifted Jila from the cold ground and brought her body back to the camp.

“I cannot heal these hurts, Luth. They are beyond my skill,” said the elf.

Luth’s eyes did not change, he did not move.

“Ye must heal her.”

The elf could not meet his gaze.

“Luth, take her out to the field. Tell the story to all the Northmen. They will put her in a place of honor, arrayed in a silver cloak with the head of her foe at her feet and her spear in her hands. It’s all that can be done for her now,” Alliliel said as she looked in the lifeless eyes of the Northwoman.

“Ye can heal her. I know of yer powers, I have known some of your kind. Little is beyond the reach of Elven magic. Shall I beg this of ye?”

“You must not beg things of me, Luth, I have come to beg favors of thee. But when the gods ordain someone’s time to die, if they meet that end well, with honor and excellence, shall we make them anew? To what higher glory or cause shall they aspire to, but to die in defense of one’s house and blood? She would live only to regret, and only to be a shadow of what she was. The joy of sunlight on our faces are a delight, but to her, they would be pale and cold to the respite she now enjoys.”

She put her hands on Luth’s shoulder, giving him strength.

“Her story is ended, another begins. It is the way of things. Let her rest now. Let us take her to a place of honor amongst the dead so that the living may see what is an honorable end. I will help thee, if we think that Jila would not object.”

“Nay, elf. She would not.”

“Then let us go and tell others that the name Jila should always be remembered.” 

The elf and the Northman went out into the camp together.

----

Alliliel stayed with the Northmen until the spring, when her heart burned to see warmer lands where things would soon grow and be glad. The clans were glad of her, as she cured many ills and healed many hurts in that time. Many councils she had with the Shamans of the North, sharing what she knew of the illness that plagued Wildimir. They worked much magic and pooled their powers to make some remedy that may break the dark hold on him. There was no promise that it would cure him, but in Alliliel’s reckoning there was no promise that she could even find him again, so she was glad to have at least some hope.

The Northmen were a bountiful people, living life vigorously and that same spring there were many children born. Many mothers brought their babes to the elf for blessings, for it was rumored that Elven magics would make their children into invincible warriors once they reached their majority. Alliliel would smile upon them, and give them such blessings as she could. Many brave sons of the north were born, and many brave daughters. Many of the latter were called Jilamora, which means Spirit of Jila.

On the first day the frosts broke that spring, Alliliel packed her few belongings to begin the long journey south. Dil had come to see her one last time, and made it known that she was a Sister of the North, and would ever be welcome in those lands.

Laden with gifts of furs and dried foods for her journey, Alliliel went south on the first day the buds sprouted anew in Antonica. Armed with hope and cures aplenty, she went forth to find the dark places in Antonica, where evil grows and shelters those who will do dark biddings.

Luth and Dil watched her go, and wished that she would visit again soon, but as long as she lived, she did not return to the frozen north.