With Amara calmer now, he followed Arandir into the workshop, ushering the young man into a seat by the hearth as he set a kettle to boiling over the fire. "What is it that troubles you, hinya""

Arandir came to a halt before the fire, watching as the flames danced in the hearth, lost in thoughts and memories of his childhood and his home. He was still young, even for a half-elf, sent away from home before he'd been fully prepared for the journey. It was only when Raniel ushered him to a seat, woodenly following, barely aware of his surroundings, that he spoke. "Fire and blood," Aran replied quietly, his thoughts still far away, even as he fingered the amulet at his throat.

"Hate and love," the druid countered just as quietly. "Two sides of the same coin, opposing forces than cannot exist, one without the other." He drew up a chair beside Arandir, reaching to lay his palm against the young man's brow, offering a soft prayer that some kind of peace be given to his daughter's beloved.

Aran didn't really feel any different, despite the prayer the elf offered up, except for a slow feeling of warmth that seemed to come over him, as peaceful as a summer's day, but even that was not enough to dispel the darkness that clouded his mind and pained his heart. "I know what I have to do," he said quietly, his gaze still watching the flames dance almost hypnotically in the hearth. "But I'm not sure I can do it."

Removing his hand, Raniel considered Arandir for another long, quiet moment. "It is in you to do whatever you set your mind to," he told the young half-elf firmly. "You are young, Aran, but you are firm in your heart and mind, strong in body, steadfast in soul. And you are not alone. Although ..." He looked askance at his son-in-law. "Talking to Carina would help you more than keeping her fearful for you."

"I don't know what to tell her," Aran admitted sadly, brushing an errant tear from his face. He seemed torn somehow, afraid of hurting her, but unable to forget who he was. He turned his head at last to face Raniel, letting him see the pain and the heartache, the fear and the worry, the grief and even the anger, but where there was once uncertainty, now there was determination. "I have to go home. I am their prince and they need me."

"The truth is always better than a kind lie," Raniel told him. "Though it is harder to share, it becomes an easier burden when those you love help you to shoulder it." He rose, pouring the boiling water into a pot and crumbling camomile into it to steep. "And what will you do, when you go home" The is no point in opening that door unless you have a plan to follow through."

"I know why I was sent here now. I was sent here so that I could make a place for them to follow, but how can I bring them here to this place when there is such hatred?" He said all this with tears in his eyes and a grievous heart. It had only come to him recently that this was his purpose, that this was what he'd been sent here to do - to open the door so that his people could have a place where they could live their lives in peace, but there was more to it than that. "They are dying, Raniel. They were dying before the humans started hunting them. I've seen it in my dreams, night after night. I am the first and the last. The first of a new race, the last of the old."

"Arandir, this unrest ....it is just a phase," Raniel told him with the confidence of a man who had lived through all of this too many times to count. "It rises and falls, but it will not last. When last it happened, this home of ours was torched, destroyed. I, myself, was beaten more than once. But what did you witness out there" Three strangers challenged me. No one spoke in my defense, but no one blamed me for what I did to protect my own. The only way to fight such hatred is to integrate with those who do not understand your ways. Our neighbors know us. The next time someone comes to my door seeking to harm me and mine, I will have defenders, because they know I would defend them." He poured the tea into a cup, pressing it into Arandir's hand. "How many of your people would follow you here?"

Aran was barely aware of the cup that had been put into his hand, even as he listened to Raniel's words and considered his question. "I don't know. A few hundred. Maybe less. I hear them calling me at night, crying out for help," he told the elf, unable to hold back the tears that streamed down his face, the tea cup shaking in a trembling hand. It had to be the amulet that connected him to his people, that allowed him to hear their cries for help, but why now"

Raniel considered this thoughtfully. "Would your people be happier outside the city?" he asked curiously. "Not another nation, or even more than a couple of hours' travel, but outside the city walls. Would that suit them better than to squeeze into the communities here?"

Aran wiped the tears from his face and took a small sip of tea, his hands still shaking but doing his best to contain and control his emotions. "I don't know," he replied again, unsure if they would prefer a settlement of their own or if they would prefer to integrate themselves into city life, if the city would have them. "I have no land nor the means to buy land. They are a peaceful people, Raniel, but they will not go down without a fight."

"You may not need to buy land, hinya," Raniel told him. "I think, perhaps, it is time you met Carina's human grandparents. They are a part of a community who thrive outside the city walls, in the forests that edge the city. There are not more than two hundred or so of them, but they are a welcoming people. Perhaps they might offer you the safe haven you are looking for, and if not, they may know of a place that can be made habitable."

"Humans?" Aran echoed suspiciously, immediately ashamed of his own reaction, of his own fear. He had made plenty of friends who were human since arriving in Rhy'Din, plenty of decent human beings who were kind and compassionate and welcoming to those who were not like themselves. "And how would they feel about elves living among them?" he asked, unable to keep the grief from his voice and the worry.

Raniel raised a brow as he held Arandir's gaze. "Humans who welcomed the marriage of their daughter to an elf, and the birth of a half-elf into their bloodline," he said, challenging Arandir not to look beyond the instinctive fear the boy seemed to hold. "Sufficiently warned, they would have no reason to object. Indeed, even without warning of the influx of people, their anger would be short-lived, I feel. But talk to them, first."

Arandir's face flamed with shame at his own words, his own doubts. He knew Carina's mother, Amara, well. She had been like a second mother to him, and he knew he was wrong to judge her people, the same way others were judging his, but it was a little more complicated than that. "There are no children, Atar," he explained, using the elven word for Father. "They are unable to have children anymore. Their blood is too pure. It is why I was born. I was to be the first born of a new bloodline born of mixed blood, human and elven alike, but they were so filled with outrage and hatred that they killed my father and declared war on my mother's people."

"Then allowing them a chance to integrate into a human community that will welcome them is the best you can give them, hinya," Raniel reminded him gently. "Speak to Amara's parents. They have influence in their community. Tell them the truth of the matter, let them put it to their companions. See what comes of it."

"It will have to be soon," Aran said quietly. "I feel them waning." He looked into the flames again, as if he could see some vision of them there, one hand going to finger the amulet at his throat. "They are dying, Raniel. Murdered. Hunted down like vermin." There was that hint of anger and rage in his voice again, though he had not given in to that same hatred yet.

For the first time in weeks, he slept deeply and soundly, without waking screaming from nightmares and memories of fire and blood. Instead, he dreamed of a child made of love. He could not tell whether the child was a boy or a girl, nor did it matter. The child had been created in love and would be raised in love. That he knew; that he vowed. During his sleep, he dreamed, too, of his mother - a mother who had raised him in love, just as he and Carina would raise their own child in the future - and when he awoke, he remembered her words and he knew what he had to do.

For the first time in weeks, he had slept right through until morning, his exhausted body making the most of the help it had been given to hold him in slumber until it was ready to wake. At some point, he had been undressed and tucked into nightclothes, too. When he woke, the bed was warm beside him, but Carina was not there. She was sitting in the dawning light at the window, sipping a cool cup of ginger tea as she watched the sun rise over the city. She was there, just as she had promised him she would be.

He awoke at sunrise, not groggily as one might expect, but wide awake and full of purpose. "Carina!" he called as soon as his eyes were open. He hardly noticed that he'd been tucked into nightclothes or into bed, as he flung off the covers and swung his feet off the bed. "We have to go see your grandparents. Today. As soon as we can," he told her with real urgency in his tone.

"I'm here," she said, turning to look at him in groggy surprise. "Is this the part where you tell me what?s going on, Aran' You're frightening me now. Last night, you were scared and worried, and pleased about our child. And now you're determined and urgent, and still not talking to me. I'm not a prince, I'm not an elf, I can't possibly understand. But I'm your wife, and I won't be shut out anymore."

Aran blinked, obviously not expecting such a reaction to his statement. He wasn't sure what had happened after he'd passed out in bed, but somehow he'd assumed her father would explain everything. That assumption had obviously been an inaccurate one. "I'm sorry, a'mael," he told her, as gently as he could. He reached for her hand to link his fingers with hers, his expression full of worry and regret. It had not been his intention to shut her out at all, but to spare her from worry, not realizing it might have the opposite effect. "I will explain everything. I promise, but ....It is urgent that we speak with your grandparents as soon as we can," he told her, his voice taking on an almost pleading tone.

She held his gaze for a long moment, upset that she'd needed to be so sharp with him just to get a promise that he would explain at some point. "We can hire a horse at the stables," she said, her tone resigned as she rose to her feet. "Get dressed. We'll take some food to eat on the way."

"A horse," he echoed, gaze shifting to that of her belly, not yet swollen with child. "Are you sure that is wise?" he asked. If he had to make a choice between speed and the safety of her and their child, he would always choose the latter.

She raised her brow, meeting his eyes sharply. "You are not leaving me behind, Aran," she told him in a firm tone. "We don't have to go at a gallop, but a horse will get us to my grandparents faster than walking. They don't like to have modern technology intruding on their lifestyle."

He had not suggested or even considered leaving her behind. He was only thinking of her safety and that of their child. "I was only thinking of the baby, Carina," he said, fingers grazing the flat of her stomach in a gentle caress. "You are angry with me," he said, frowning as he realized it. It was the first time he could recall her ever being angry with him, and it made his heart ache.

"I'm worried and upset, and I'm frightened, Aran," she told him quietly. "I'm completely in the dark here. All I know is what you've told me, and that is very little. I have nothing to bridge the gap between what little you have said, your nightmares, and this sudden desire for action. Is it me" Should I have stopped myself becoming pregnant, is that why you don't seem to trust me anymore?"

"No, Carina," he assured her as gently as he could, lifting a hand to touch her cheek in another gentle caress. "I love you. I will always love you. It is not about trust. I trust you more than anyone I have ever known. I only wished to spare you from worry, but I see I have failed. I am sorry," he told her, looking genuinely full of remorse.

Her face tilted into his touch, her hand rising to draw tender fingertips along the point of his ear before curling them to his neck - an intimate gesture that non-elven kind did not truly understand the significance of. She drew closer, setting her brow to his. "I would rather worry with you," she told him softly. "To see you suffering and know that you're choosing to keep me ignorant of the reasons ....it hurts, Aran. It doesn't feel like trust. I love you. Let me help you."

He sighed as she touched him in such an intimate way, her touch soothing the turmoil he was feeling in his heart and mind. He touched his forehead to hers, sorry he had kept her in the dark, but it had been entirely his fault. "I did not tell you because I did not understand, but I do now, Carina, and I swear I will tell you everything."

"Tell me on the road," she told him softly, brushing a kiss to his lips. "First one dressed gets to tell my mother we're not staying for breakfast." She smiled a small smile, more to reassure him than anything, and drew away, moving to locate her clothes and change.

He smiled at last, reassured by her kiss. "Then perhaps I should take my time," he teased, though he had already claimed that time was of the essence, for some reason he had not yet shared with her, but would, as promised, as soon as he was able.

His reply was his own pants thrown at his head, together with a soft laugh from his wife. Carina didn't have a passionate temperament - when she was angry, it didn't last; she didn't careen from one strong emotion to the next. Like her father, she was calmly even-tempered most of the time, and easily reassured by those she loved.

He echoed her laughter as he caught his pants and started getting dressed. It felt good to laugh with her, even in the midst of all he was feeling. He felt strangely hopeful with the dawn of a new day, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was his talk with Raniel, or maybe it was his love for Carina and the knowledge that they were to have a child. A child who would be of his bloodline and hers, only the second child born to his people in centuries, save himself. If that was not reason for hope, he didn't know what was. It wasn't long before he was dressed and ready for their journey, anxious to finish what his mother had started when she'd sent him through the portal.

It did not take them long to dress and leave, even with Amara fussing over them and insistent that they take a pack of food and drink for the journey. Raniel's contribution was money to cover the hiring of two horses, to allow them both a modicum of comfort as they traveled. But two hours after leaving the city gates, they had entered an airy forest that seemed lighter than the other woodlands scattered about the city. The sound of men and women, families at work, were audible through the trees; there was the sight of the occasional group either hunting or harvesting as they rode along. This was where Amara had grown up before she had chosen to live in the city.

"We came from a world where none of us could remember there ever having been a war between the races," Vethen said, sitting down rather heavily as he spoke, gesturing for the two young people to join him. "Our lives were as you see them now - mixed, peaceful. And then the men came from the sky. Humans, they called themselves, but they didn't have any humanity left in them. They attacked our friends, our neighbors, people we had known and trusted all our lives. They used blackmail and force to make us harm the people we knew best. When my father stood up to them, to protect the school in our town, these so-called humans cut him down and set fire to it. And they stayed to watch it burn, to force us all to watch our children burn. Because they were the superior species, and it sickened me that they thought I was one of them." His jaw clenched as he looked away, tears in his eyes for the memory of so much suffering because of one small faction's opinions and force.

As Vethen told his story, Aran came to understand that he and Carina's grandparents might have more in common than any of them realized. "And so you came here, looking for a place where you could leave in peace and harmony," Aran said, giving the story the ending that seemed most likely. He reached over and touched the old man's arm. Such traumatic memories never went away; they just became easier to bear - he should know. "I am sorry," he told him, sick at heart to know that they'd been forced to witness such an atrocity. It had been nothing short of murder.

"We had to do something," Jenith said quietly, knowing Vethen would not be able to continue. "Our friends, our families ....they were being torn apart around us. We led the resistance in two different towns. The families here in Anarven are made up of the only people we managed to save. They trusted us, despite the fact that we are human, and in this community, our race accounts for perhaps half of those who live here. This is our home, and for fifty years, it has been a place of peace, where every pairing is celebrated, every child is treasured. We all know how easily it could be taken away. But we know how to fight it, now."

Aran exchanged a glance with Carina, wondering if this was the time to share his own tale, or if he would only upset them further. Still, he had come here for a reason, at Raniel's suggestion, not only to meet her grandparents but to ask for their help. "I'm afraid I did not come here only to meet you," he admitted with a slightly-guilty frown.

Carina squeezed his hand gently. She'd heard the story before, but seeing her grandfather relive it was always painful. "Maybe we should tell them the good news first," she suggested softly, offering a way to soften what might be painful to hear with something heartening first.

Aran nodded in agreement as she gave his hand a squeeze. He wished all they had was good news, but he could not ignore his people's plight any longer. Still, it was good to be able to share good news and he had a feeling her grandparents would be happy for them, but he said nothing more, allowing her the honor and joy of telling them.

"Good news?" Jenith looked up as she portioned out toast and cake and tea between the four of them, a faintly confused smile on her face.

Carina's smile softened as she leaned into Arandir. "We're going to have a baby," she said quietly, her expression almost shy as she watched her grandparents.

There was silence for a long moment, and Jenith burst into delighted tears, lurching up from her seat to clutch Arandir to her as she squeezed him tight, declaring him to be a wonderful boy and how wonderful it was to hear such news.

Vethen watched his wife with an indulgent smile, waiting until she was done before speaking up himself. "No child should grow up without some knowledge of the culture that created them," he said gently, his eyes on Arandir. "I understand your people are out of reach."

Once again, Arandir was taken aback as Carina's grandmother embraced him. He shyly returned that embrace, relieved to know they were so welcoming and supportive, though he had expected no less as he'd received an equally warm welcome from her parents at their first meeting. He knew in that moment that their child would grow up surrounded by the love of family, even if his own family was absent. "Yes," Aran replied, unable to hide the pain from his eyes at that admission. "That is, in part, why we have come here today."

"Sorry," Jenith apologized cheerfully for her exuberance, bending to hug Carina just as tightly before returning to her seat. And Arandir had thought Amara was tactile when he'd first met her; it was clear where Carina's mother had got her affectionate nature from.

Vethen, on the other hand, was watching Arandir closely. "Tell me," he suggested. "All of it. Leave nothing out, even if you think it might count against your case. I would rather know everything than be made to look a fool."

Arandir didn't mind the show of warmth and affection from either Carina's mother or grandmother. In fact, he cherished it, craved it, even. They were, for the time being, the only family he had, and even if he was able to bring his people here, he had no idea whether his own mother or grandfather would be among them. Aran nodded his head at Vethen's request before doing as the man asked. He left nothing out - not a single detail - and even Carina would learn things he had not yet had time to tell her. He told of how his people were dying, of how hundreds of years had passed without a single birth, until his mother, an elf, had met and fallen in love with his father, a human.

And so, Arandir had been born, the first child born to the elves in hundreds of years, albeit a half-blood. His birth had brought hope to his people, until the humans in their jealousy and hatred murdered his father for it and declared war on his people. And so it had been for all of Aran's life. His people had fought back in defense of themselves and their homes, but even with magic on their side, they were too outnumbered. It went on for years, until his mother at last found a place where she could send her only son, a prince of the people, so that at least he might survive.

Vethen listened closely to every word, absorbing not just the facts, but the emotions behind them. It was a story only too familiar to him, yet he did not say anything when Aran was done. He simply nodded, rose to his feet, and left the house with a purposeful stride.

Carina, tears in her eyes from listening to the whole story, blinked in surprise, her gaze turning to her grandmother in protest.

Jenith only smiled. "We can't speak for the community," she told her granddaughter quietly. "But we can speak to them."