Of Mystical Gates *revised*

[Melville's Best Friend]

Hey all! I want to thank Lacey SO MUCH for helping me with this fic!!!! I'm working hard to please her and improve myself, and I hope I've done that. For all of you who don't know, humor is my forte. Seriousness I need work on. ^_^ Thanks to my WOBDERFUL beta, Lacey, I hope I've become a better writer. I LOVE YOU LACEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: Oh! Almost forgot! I don't own the characters, but I own all the titles and names....except, like...elf...that's obvious.....^_^





Of Mystical Gates *revised*
By Melville?s Best Friend


The wood was characteristically quiet where he stood. No bird disturbed the serenity of the realm of Enchantment nor the pool that noted the center of the supernatural vicinity-no fox rustled a tree branch. Not a sound was made; save for a foreigner whose thoughts lied elsewhere. Bowing, he placed his hands into the crystal water, and doused his sweating forehead. He quenched his thirst as he avariciously drank from the stream, allowing his tongue the pleasure of drinking such wealth. He never once paused to apprehend the magnificence of the world on which he stood. His world was filled with hate, and battles-- with bloodshed and fear. His world was no place for dreams or aspirations. He viewed all of Aria as a battlefield. No beauty of Aria could convince him otherwise, because to him, Aria had no beauty. Finished with his drink, the boy stood, allowing nature to congratulate herself on the beauty of the creature she beheld.

The wind picked up stray leaves around him as he stood, able to relax from his long journey. Although he had been traveling only a few days, he had covered more land than had he ridden the Wildoorian form of what the human?s call ?horse?-a Dimpole. The mountains of Lenox he had bested. He had fought with the Sea of Stamenta, as well. His first encounter with land that reminded his of home was the Enchanted wood, which lay only 40 leagues from his ultimate destination. His bow creaked with the slight pressure of the wind, and the Wildoor knew that although it had been the best, sooner or later, it would be of little use to him. He placed his hand over the delicate weapon and sighed; it echoed through the emptiness of the wood, and it was then that he felt most alone. The bow was a reminder of his people. It was the first weapon he had ever made. Although he held in his possession a sword, he felt the bow reminded him more of his cause. It was his good luck.

This boy was a Wildoor, an immortal creature with no magic. The Wildoor relied on their skills as huntsmen, and trackers; they were cunning, skilled marvels, who stood as tall as a human.
He brushed the chocolate tresses away from his brow, revealing his illustrious eyes. The entire forest glimmered in his dark blue orbs, allowing a passageway into his thoughts. Focusing on the problematical wars of the human race was the single most important dynamic in the minds of all the Wildoor.

The humans were ignorant, supercilious, imprudent mortals who relied on science to comfort them. Every creature loathed the humans, both mortal and immortal creatures. Here stood the Wildoorian, silently asking the question no more than time could answer: What would become of his kind?
Humans had vast villages throughout the planet, and were under constant attack by despicable creatures of the night. Goblins and dwarfs nest near the humans, so that they might feed on the richness of the cities. Food was vast, and alcohol, for them, was free. They had their pick of maidens and children, devouring both, and ruining the foundation of each city. These creatures were death to men, and the Wildoors? loved that. However, man had placed all blame on the creatures of the forest, mainly the Dorna, who were the most powerful of the forest creatures. The humans targeted all of the magical beings, and forced a war upon them: the War of Aria.

His people were at risk every second; humans hunted them daily. They had not the utilities or power to fight back. This is why he was on this ground, a place foreign to him. He was in search of the Queen of the Dorna, Queen Relena. The Dorna were obdurate, however. They had not lifted a finger to preclude the spate of war. He was journeying to change their minds; he was on a quest to save his people. The King of the Wildoor was on an expedition to rid the world of humans, and smite the demons of the night that had caused his people such heartache.

The goblins and dwarfs worked of their own authority; no one, no Dorna, no Wildoor, no Unicorn or Fairy had any responsibility over the measures of the human monsters. And yet, this war could very well kill them all.

A ruffled bush awoke him from his repose. With the elegance of a panther, he had aimed a bow at the heart of the noise. Confidence emitted from the young Wildoor, enough so that his enemy immediately surrendered. Nothing could convince him that his bow was useless. It gave him strength, for it reminded him of what was most important; his home. He subconsciously brushed his fingers along the wood, reveling in the smooth texture. The intricate carvings that had once brought such joy to him as a child, had worn away with age. He kept it ready for the kill.

?Reveal yourself,? he commanded.

?I will! Just, dono shoot! I swear am nice! Swear! I?s you friend, Wildoor!?

He lowered his weapon and groaned. The creature to which he?d threatened was no more than an elf.

?Come out then, and state your business. I don?t have time to mingle with an elf.?

The creature showed itself. The frightened being was not as horrid looking as the King had expected. The elf stood somewhat taller than he. A long gold braid fell down his back, a characteristic of most elfin men. His ears reached for the trees surrounding him, seemingly unending in length, and his unruly bangs fell in his face like branches would a tree. His apparel was too horrid for that of such a miserable animal, and he smelled heavily Cedar Forest, the resting place of many of the elves.

?Me so sorry, you majesty, but I am sent on a quest for find you.?

?I have no business with so lowly a creature.? The King replied, turning away so as to leave.

?Sir! This is very important! I am represent King of elves, Duo. We in need of Wildoor help.?

?I am not required to aid you.?

?We pay for assistance. King is around corner. You help us??

?I will speak with your King. He had better make this worth my while, creature.?

They journeyed in a line. The Wildoor king kept a stern eye on the elf. Elves were known for their trickery and cunning; they could not be trusted. Their major power was the ability to manipulate the spirits of the earth?water, wind?The Wildoor King saw it fit to watch the animal most closely. They came to a small clearing, and the elf clumsily walked over to a tree, whispering some elfin code once by its side. A door opened from within the tree, and the King of the elves stood before the King of the Wildoor. The messenger scampered through the opening, and disappeared from the Kings? eye.

?You?ve not been easy to trace, Wildoor. I have been in search of you for some time.?

?I would have you get to the point elf.?

?My name is Duo, the King of the Elves.? He bowed. His long brown braid fell over his shoulder.
Magnificently clad in a camouflage-fighting ensemble, he didn?t appear as lowly as the Wildorian King had suspected he?d be.

?And you are the King of the Wildoor. King Heero. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.?

?I?m sure you?re pleased to be seen with such austere company.?

?I did not track you to be insulted. I came to ask for your help.?

?No honorable creature would help you. Elves are only seen as traitors and feasts for Goblins and the like.?

?You?re mind is petty, Heero. You assume the rumors of my people starting the countless wars years back are true, don?t you? Ignorance. No one has the proof to make such a statement. If it had not been for the elves, many of your people would have died. We were saviors in those wars of the past--not provokers.?

?Watch your tongue, elf, lest you wish it ripped off.?

?You don?t believe me??

?I believe your people are too crafty to be trusted. What is the meaning of this??

?Crafty are we? Tell me what you have heard of my people. Rumors are horrible creatures, Heero. They infest your mind, and lay waste in your thoughts. Rumors and heresay are not to be trusted.?

?You speak of words as if they are creatures-enemies, at that.?

?And why not? They can destroy a living breathing creature just as quickly as any touchable enemy.?

?You will not work your tricks on me. I know you.?

?Ah,? he smiled a smile of a sage, ?and what do you know??

?Your people aided the humans in the conquest of the castle of Aria. That is what started the war and the segrigation of all creatures, after all,? he narrowed his eyes, and for once, the Elf found himself afraid of something he could not comprehend. In Heero?s eyes, there was some deep secret of which Heero himself was not aware? ?You are not to be trusted, Elf.?

Duo smiled. Getting through to forest creatures had not been an easy task since they were branded for the wars of the past. Only a few had remained loyal to the elves, and the rest of the forest shunned those few. Duo ignored all he had just seen, and changed the subject. Craftiness, after all, was what separated Elves from all the rest.

?We must stop the humans from their attack on this place. You are on a quest, I have heard, to see Queen Relena.?

Heero met Duo?s gaze, stunned. ?What you speak is true. How did you come about that knowledge??

?We are elves, as you stated. We are cunning and tricky. We have our ways.?

?You wish to accompany me in my quest??

?I do. I will do all I can to stop men from destroying our home, even if it means begging from hypocrites like the Dorna.?

Heero said nothing. He turned and went on his way, allowing the Duo to follow.




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[RDP]

Interesting AU...any more coming along?