A/N: First off, I want to say that to all you previous readers out there, and faithful reviewers, you do NOT have to read these next couple of chapters. They're basically going in the same direction as last time. You can read them if you want to, because, in my opinion, they are quite a bit better than last time and there are some new twists, but you don't have to. I'd appreciate if you review on them just to let me know that you're checking them out. And please tell me what you think of the language I made up. I want at least five reviews before I move on. FIVE REVIEWS, PEOPLE! So please, please review. And give me nice long ones too. Anyone who gives me a nice LONG review gets a free muffin.

Luv, Izzy

1. To Persist in Toil and Strife

A combination of beauty and innocence is a rare thing indeed in a human. Like fire and water, an existence of such a thing would be a miracle; but whoever said miracles don't happen? One such miracle was a child entitled "December Shonti, daughter of King Asa Shonti, heir to the throne of Amianell."

No human, elf, dwarf, or giant could deny the beauty of this individual girl; not even the unintelligible species—centaurs, unicorns, or other creature—or the people of the lands of Iyunthra, Rasendron, or Rivatown. Even the magic creatures like pixies, fairies, and gnomes or the monsters like ogres, dragons, and creatures of the dark magic were in awe.

All creatures stopped whatever they were doing to look at her radiant face, emerging from the thick of balroe vines which draped over the arched balcony doorway of the tower. Winter sunlight shone tenderly on her joyous smile. Not even the alpha of dragons could tear his steady gaze from her blue eyes and the icy blue winter coat that framed her slender body. Iyunthraeans, the fairest and wisest of all races, watched her in admiration as snowflakes landed on her fair face and wind danced playfully through her blonde tresses. Then she opened her mouth and sang an elvish song.

"To persist in toil and strife

I've wasted all my life,

Truth is sharper than a knife,

But I must pull through...

"How dare you come again?

Can't you see you cause my pain?

My future has been laid.

Please give me a clue...

"I'm weak but still I tried.

Secrets are harder still to hide.

Forgive me, friend, I lied.

What will you do?

"You make light from dark.

Illuminate my heart.

It started with a spark.

Now I'm consumed...

"What did I expect?

I have nothing left.

And it's getting harder to forget.

These concepts are new.

"Friends we are once more.

You're who I've been waiting for.
I'm feeling quite heart-sore.

I wish I knew...

"I can't utter a sound,

But I must stand my ground.

I won't drown, I won't go down,

Now that I've found you...

"Do you think I'm beautiful?

Let your words be truthful.

I can't believe I'm such a fool.

And you know it too...

"You've confessed your love for me.

I can no longer try to flee.

My stubbornness you see.

I love you too...

"I don't want you to go.

Without you, it's so cold.

My life away I'll throw,

Just to save you...

"Now that you're right here,

No danger will I fear.

The time is coming near,

For me to leave you.

"Give me one more chance.

May I have this dance?

Reversing is my stance.

Our love is true...

Our love is true...

Love is true...

Love is true..."

Her voice slowly began to fade until it was but a still small voice in the wind. Her smile gradually vanished and she closed her eyes. When she reopened her eyes, they were like ice—transparent. An icy fog rose up around her and whipped through her hair and clothing. Clouds smothered any light and the wind became more vicious and wild, howling, still carrying the princess's voice away. She began to chant in an icy voice, in elvish.

"Elero nahrise rhiesque tha corem khas ol blere. Jem acras tha tu enano, zur tha mirom ol pasena tu shir. Vesque ol—" The noise of the wind rose above the chanting and the fog rose around the child's body. Soon she was hidden completely from sight.

Then, all of a sudden, everything ceased. It was so silent that one could hear the fairies breathing. Everyone and everything below stood, motionless, wondering what had just happened, eyes wide with fear. The fog subsided and cleared away, but the princess was gone. That was when the sun peered out from behind the clouds, lighting up the snowy blanket that covered the earth again. The uncomfortable silence remained for some time.

Then, bone-chilling screams gradually rose in volume and pitch from a distance, until the screams were unbearable, calling icily, "December! December!"

"December!" A woman's screech awoke the girl from her much-needed snooze on the gleaming floor of the Crouch Manor. "December!" The girl, still lying sprawled out in the center of the floor, blinked her eyes sleepily and stretched her arms out. Still dazed and confused, she pushed herself onto her knees. It only dawned on her what she was supposed to be doing when she saw the bucket of lye with a cloth draped on top in front of her. She groaned disappointedly, rubbing her eyes.

That same dream had haunted her ever since she had turned fifteen, four months ago; a dream in which Keilantra had been a beautiful, perfect princess and had sung a romantic song. Only this particular time hadn't ended and awoken with the ending of the song; she had chanted in elvish and then disappeared. The screams had been enough, she was sure, to have awoken every member of the Crouch household, but even more so was the frightening, absolute silence that followed it.

"Ember!" Lady Brunhilde Crouch screamed again from upstairs. Strange enough, she sounded wide awake for eight in the morning.

"I'm coming, Lady Crouch!" December called back weakly, having just awoken. She waved her orders aside momentarily as she continued to ponder her dream.

"Do not deny the princess her rightful place at the throne. Seven years she has been gone, but her time of redemption has come. Watch for—" This was the translation of the chant. December longed to fall asleep again, just to see what the rest of the chant was. "Watch for what?" December thought aloud. "Watch for what?"

"Ember!"

"Sorry!" The girl quickly jumped to her feet and ran to the spiralling staircase. She trotted upstairs and then to the first door down the hall. The sturdy oak door groaned loudly as she pushed it open. The bedroom within was so magnificent and luxurious, December felt green with envy. Compared to her cramped corner in the attic, this place was paradise. All kinds of fancy furniture were scattered around the bedroom, all made beautifully by expert craftsmen, in a theme of deep blue.

The lady was sitting up in the bed, covered with the heavy duvets. With the curtains closed, the room was dark, and the lady's face was hardly visible. December had seen the face only too many times and could imagine the woman standing over her with snapping blue eyes and blonde hair snatched back by a baby blue bow.

"What took you?" If December had been able to see the lady in the dark, she would have seen a scowl on her face. Lateness wasn't tolerated in her household, and patience wasn't even heard of.

"Perhaps it was not I who was late," December began, smiling cheekily. "But the early-thief. I have heard a lot about him, you know, he goes from place—"

"Who was this 'early-thief'?" Lady Brunhilde wrinkled up her large, freckled nose.

December's cheeky smile faded as she realized Lady Brunhilde was not amused, "It was... It was a bee." She shifted her eyes quickly, wondering if she'd spoken her mind a little too much.

Dense as she was, Lady Brunhilde didn't find it amusing, "Well, then. I've been disturbed out of my sleep by a nightmare. Call my angels into my room and then run off to the market to buy us a morning meal."

December coughed politely and quietly asked, "What angels?" An uncomfortable silence followed. "Oh! You mean you little... yes, those... them? Yes, madam. Right away." She curtsied awkwardly and left the room, closing the door behind her. "You mean the swine," she muttered under her breath.

Lady Brunhilde had four of them—four of the pigs she dared to call angels. One could easily tell they were related. Jacqueline was the youngest of them, being a few months older than December. Jacqueline looked more like her father, though, with sandy brown curls, tied up in a purple ribbon.

"Good morning, Lady Jacqueline," December announced, waltzing into the room to open the curtain with a spring in her step. Jacqueline was already awake, sitting up in her bed with the lamp on, reading a book. She looked up from her book and laid it aside.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Ember." December curtsied and began to leave the room, but Jacqueline stopped her. "Wait," she called after her. December turned inquiringly. "Can you please tell me that story again—the one of the elves? I can't seem to find it anywhere; no history books or fairy tales I know have it."

"Certainly," December seated herself on a cushioned chair next to Jacqueline's bed as Jacqueline leaned forward eagerly. "But it is no fairy tale. Every word of this story is the truth, and it happened only seven years ago to an eight-year-old elvish princess."

In fact, the girl of whom December spoke of was herself. She had told the story so often to Jacqueline, who was always attentive, she was sure she would never forget it. The truth was, December wasn't the ravishing blonde-haired, blue-eyes beauty in her dreams. She wasn't that at all.

Matted black hair, smelling of kitchen grease and smoke, hung down her back, covering her point-tipped ears. Blue eyes were an attraction to any woman, but Keilantra's weren't as she dreamed them to be. They were a boring, deep brown mixture of shades; dull after many years of weariness, but one could see a longing deep within them desiring to be bright and excited once more.

During the seven years of war prior to that day, elves were considered a wicked and hated race. Any elf found out would be sent to Klorith to be at the mercy of his Royal Highness, the King Darcy Alrond of Endelia.

The skin of the elves was the color of cinnamon, though December's had become quite pale. She was quite short—shorter than most humans. All elves were. Several traits indicated that this girl was an elf, but as long as her hair hung heavily over her ears, she felt safe—secure. Her hair was her refuge, her hiding place. Luckily, many other races shared some of these traits. It was only the point-tipped ears that hardly a race possessed—only pixies, nymphs, and elves, and one could certainly tell that December was not a nymph or a pixie.

So December began. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful woman. Her name was Elizabeth Todd. She was born in the town of Klorith, the King's hometown. Everyone knows that.

"Her mother taught her how to do this and that—knitting, embroidery, mending, washing, cleaning, cookery, and other miscellaneous skills every housewife should be familiar with. But the girl could not stay settled—not even for a half hour. Once her mother turned her back, she bolted out the door, all set to play princesses and ogres with the boys. Her mother called her minx, while her father laughed.

"'She's a Todd, my dear. Making her sit down for too long a time is making a fish live on dry land. She has adventure in her blood,' her father would say. Her mother disagreed. 'Any horse can be tamed.' She then would try to think of new ways to control her child.

"As Elizabeth grew into a woman, she desired more adventure than playing games. So she would pack a number of items onto her father's horse, often for hours at a time, sometimes a whole day.

"One morning, Elizabeth told her parents that she wanted to leave the township, much to her mother's horror. 'I want to ride to Iyunthra and Rivatown! I want to see the top of Mount Chasna and walk the length of the River Odano!'

"Her mother gasped. 'You mean the one next to that elvish village? The one next to Amianell?'

"'Yes, yes, yes! That's the one!' Excitement flooded Elizabeth's entire being. 'Mother, don't you see? I need a very long holiday; one with variety and excitement—one in which I can live up to every day.'

"'Once you see the dangers and the boredom of the outside world, will you come home and settle down?' Her mother looked at her hopefully.

"'I mean not to return.' Her mother sank down into a chair, sobbing into the folds of her skirts. She gazed at the girl's father helplessly. The laughter was gone from his eyes and his mouth was a stern line. He walked up to his daughter, and she could see that there were tears in his eyes too.

"Then he did something unexpected. He kissed her forehead with his short, scraggly beard and whispered brokenly, "You have my blessing.' Elizabeth breathed both a sigh of relief and despair together. She hugged her father thankfully. 'I love you, papa.'

"Hurrying over to her heart-broken mother, she knelt before her, pressing her cheek against her hand. She arose and took her mother into her arms. 'I love you so much, mama. Thank you for everything you have taught me.' Her mother clung to her with her entire soul, trembling.

"How she was finally able to leave, I don't know. I only know that once she arrived at Amianell, she was sure that she didn't want to go anywhere else."

December paused, remembering her home. The place was so beautiful and so peaceful. She craved this more than anything else in the world. She took a deep breath and continued.

"The place was beautiful. Houses were made of marble and were at all different levels. Trees and plants surrounded the place, and grew all over. The Odano River ran right through it, magnificent bridges crossing over, with trees draped over them. And laylam hung all over everything."

"What's laylam?" Jacqueline inquired.

"Laylam is an elvish string, used for decoration. The word itself means 'beauty.' Elf craftsmen are very skilled in their occupations. They made laylam in such a manner that it's as light as thread, but as strong as rope. The silver-white, glittery string hangs all over Amianell—in front of the elves' doorways, over the edge of balconies, hanging from trees and gardens. It's beautiful, and at night, the string appears to light up the whole village."

"Sounds beautiful," Jacqueline commented.

"It is. More beautiful than any human can imagine."

"Have you been there?"

December hesitated. "Yes. A long time ago. Before the conflict started.

"The buildings were built, one on top of the other, forming balconies from which grew balroe, an elvish vine. It was so beautiful, it would take years to fully fathom the place.

"A waterfall fell very near to Amianell, causing a gentle mist and a cool breeze to fall over the entire village. Some say that the waterfall has healing powers, so it was called Talra, which means healing.

"Elizabeth fell in love with the place—and with the king, King Asa. His hospitality charmed her; he had offered her a suite in his own home for her to stay.

"'Never trust a human,' Sharagirn, the elf wizard, had warned. The king took no heed to his advice. Four months later, they married.

"Elizabeth forgot about what it was like when she was living with humans. She loved it in Amianell. They soon had a daughter, the princess of Amianell."

"What was her name?" Jacqueline was sitting at the edge of her bed now.

December thought for a while. She remembered a name her father used to call her. No one else had called her that since the beginning of the conflict. "Her name is Emma.

"When the girl was only eight years old, the conflict between man and elf began. No one knows what caused the conflict, but Sharagirn insisted it had something to do with Elizabeth's arrival.

"Hundreds of elves were massacred. They tried to fight back, but they had all of them been taken by surprise and were no match. Along with the hundreds killed was Elizabeth." December paused, closing her eyes. "I don't know what happened to the king, but Emma was kidnapped and forced into slavery. No one has seen or heard of her since."

Jacqueline pondered awhile. "Wouldn't she be found out and killed?"

"I don't know," December leaned forward to look her sternly in the eye. "Would she?"

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Next!" King Earl called out loudly to the guards, who were dragging away another helpless elf. They pulled yet another half naked elf up to the dais in chains, waiting for the king to decide what to do with her.

Seated next to the king was a boy about seventeen years of age, with this hand through his sandy brown curls—the prince. He couldn't bear just sitting there day after day watching countless elves being drawn away to hopeless fates.

What's your name?" the king inquired of the girl.

"Alexia," she answered truthfully, hoping desperately not to stir the king's anger. She knelt before him, her wavy blonde hair falling to the middle of her back, ears peaking out. She looked about the king's son's age.

"Do you sing well, Alexia?" the king rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

"That is not for me to decide," Alexia bowed her head humbly.

Earl smiled. "Honest child. No, that is not for you to decide. That is for me to decide. Most elves can sing very well. Sing for me."

Alexia though awhile, then began to sing an elvish song. It was a song most often sung at weddings, by the father, for his daughter.

"Sai abeta tha aya da lero,

Aya tha le ado cherr,

Aya dayron cach thes,

Sur aya nighra yallom blag.

Elero bosamer, sai shreyon.

Zur tha noe ol sai,

"Bapa, knieri elero eihi.

Ol lei sai mutre seebli.

Ol lei da frocelo jeh jissa

Cach thes sai tirk grelm."

Zur sai frocelo, sai sen frocelo.

Donasta doss, brunt:

Sai abeta tha est."

Had the men present understood the meaning of the song, they would've broken down and this conflict could've ended there and then—but it wasn't meant to be. All elves broke down crying, remembering loved ones probably never to be seen again.

But the king couldn't care less what it meant. The singing was perfect, with brilliant trills and long notes held marvellously and high notes reached beautifully and low notes sung smoothly. Everyone was in a stunned silence for a long moment.

"Elijah, what do you think?" Earl broke the silence first, to question his son.

"Father," his voice was strong but gentle and sweet. "You heard it yourself. It was perfect in every way. Only a fool would deny that this girl can sing. I am curious, though," he turned to smile encouragingly at Alexia, "As to what it means exactly."

A hopeful smile flickered across Alexia's fair face. "Zis, zajen," she said quickly. This meant "Yes, sir," or "Yes, master."

"In elvish this means..." she though awhile of the English terms. "This means, "I loved her before you did, before she was even born, before the sun went down, and—"

"You bore me with your endless droning, elf," the king spat the word as if it were a curse. "Guards—"

"Father, stop!" Elijah stopped his father. "She wasn't finished."

Alexia continued, nervously now, her voice beginning to break. "And before the moon shone full. Don't forget, my son. But she said to me—"

"Elijah, please tell me you're finished," King Earl interrupted again.

"No, sir. Alexia, please continue."

Alexia began again, starting to whimper helplessly, "'Father, please don't cry. At least I'm still alright. At least you can't see the tears running down my own face.'"

"Son, you must be finished now!"

"Not until she is, father!" Elijah's burst of anger surprised everyone, silencing the whole room. "Alexia! Please finish!"

Alexia did as she was told, half-crying, half-whining everything she said. "But I couldn't, I just couldn't. Remember this, boy: I loved her first."

The last phrase held Elijah's tongue. It reminded him of his sister, whom had disappeared when he was just three years old. It was the king who spoke first.

"Her voice was beautiful then, wasn't it?" he pondered aloud. "Take her away and cut out her neck. We will see what she possesses inside herself that makes her sing so perfectly."

"Don't!' Elijah leapt to his feet.

"Sit down, Elijah. You know very well what this race has done to deserve this." Elijah hesitantly sat down, watching the girl be dragged screaming from the room, calling out for help, or whatever she was saying.

"Mu! Elero! Knieri, elero! Sai le jema acras. Sai mami le tallor, zur sai bapa le acor!"

"Stop jabbering! Get her out of here!" The king shook his fist at her.

"No!" Alexia tried again. "The princess! She comes! Seven years!" It was in vain. The girl was dragged out to the execution courtyard, where, with a swing and a chop, not another shriek was heard, and she never got to see her own happily ever after.

The prince leapt from his chair again and stormed from the room, his velvet cape dragging behind him. Earl called after him, but he continued.

"Come sit down, boy! You need to learn that not everyone is as innocent as they appear!" The king called. Elijah carried on, pushing through the many guards, courtiers, and other attendees of the assembly to get to the back of the room, where the door was. "You are weak!"

Elijah stopped short. Was he weak? When it came down to something important, would he prove himself to be a weakling? He turned his head slightly to see an elf child, bound in chains, whimpering, awaiting his turn to die. "Mami... mami." Elijah softened. A strong man does not take vengeance on a child! He marched toward the guard holding the boy.

"Unlock this one."

"But, sire—"

"My orders!" The guard quickly took out his keys and fumbled through them before he unlocked the chains, showing red welts on the little boy's wrists. Elijah rubbed them gently then took the boy up in his arms and proceeded to the back of the room, opening the giant hallway double doors and exiting them, then continuing up the grand staircase, through the snaking passages and into his chambers with the boy.

A/N: Well... What do you think? Sorry it took so long to get this up here, but I've finally done it and I personally think it's a whole lot better than last time. So... please review. Even if you have already on my other one, I'd appreciate if you'd review on this one too, just to let me know that you read it, ok? And remember... FREE MUFFINS FOR ANYONE WHO GIVES ME A NICE LONG REVIEW! Ok, that's about all.

Luv, Izzy