In a distant land, far away from any human kingdom or civilization, there was a vast forest called Solthara. Now, Solthara was no bustling city—in fact, they didn't even have a World Tree. But that was to be expected; after all, there were only seven of those legendary trees in existence. What Solthara did have was a small population of about 500 elves. And in this quiet village, a new life was being brought into the world.
On the outskirts, in a medium-sized hut, the village hunter and his wife awaited the birth of their child. Just outside the hut stood an old high elf.
"Greetings, Village Chief. Thank you for coming to oversee me and my wife," grunted the hunter.
"Ahh, don't worry about it, Vamir. It's my duty to bless and record any new children in the village—and also my duty to take care of any unexpected issues," Aymon replied.
When Aymon finished the last part of his sentence, Vamir visibly twitched. In this village, whenever a baby was born, spirits would always come to see the newborn—after they had been blessed by the elder. The element of the spirit that appeared would determine the child's affinity, and the rank and number of spirits would reveal the child's latent talent.
Noticing Vamir's nervousness, Aymon chuckled softly. "Don't worry, my friend. I'm sure any child of the Sylvaris family will be a mighty being," he said with a grin. He finished his light-hearted banter by slapping the hunter on the back, then continued walking into the hut.
Inside lay a pale, pregnant maiden with beautiful blonde hair and eyes as blue as the radiant sky. She turned to the visitor and, with a small bow, said, "Greetings, Village Chief. Unlike my lovely husband, I humbly welcome you to our little abode."
Hearing her snarky remark, the tall, darkly tanned elf winced a little. Aymon laughed, raising his hand to stop her from bowing any lower.
"Ah, Lady Serena, there's no need to greet me so formally. I can see your gratitude from here."
She stopped abruptly, returned to her resting position, and motioned for him to come closer and shut the door. As Aymon looked around the hut, he noticed various hunting tools, cooking utensils, and even a small room prepared for the soon-to-be-born baby. He pointed at the weapons and said in his old but snarky tone, "Are you going to baby-proof those—or just leave them out?"
Nodding her head in irritation while rubbing her stomach, she replied, "I don't know, Vamir. What are we going to do with those? I think we might have to throw them away for a couple of years… maybe even a century or two?"
Vamir looked visibly shaken at the thought of losing his prized weapons. He turned to look at them in all their glory before sighing and taking them down to put them into storage—only keeping a bow, some arrows, and a sharp dagger in a sturdy leather sheath. He made sure to place the arrows and dagger far out of reach of any little person or child.
After a bit of cleaning, he turned to his wife and said, "Happy?" in a sad but melodious tone. She turned to him with a wistful look and replied softly, "Yes we can bring them back after our little one has grown bigger and strong."
After a while of talking and catching up with one another, two new elves arrived. One was an older woman around 600 years old, named Myrren, and the other seemed to be a little younger, at the age of 550, named Liora.
After chatting with Myrren and Liora and getting a sense of what to expect during childbirth, Serena suddenly felt her water break. Myrren became serious, pushed both of the men out of the room, and returned to help Serena through the process. Liora took Serena's hand, calming her with soothing words and guided breathing exercises. Myrren wiped Serena's sweat and prepared a bucket of warm water and several wool towels.
And after 18 hours of hard and grueling pushing—and many elven curse words never before spoken by Serena—Ryfon Sylvaris was born.