By the time they were thirteen and fourteen respectively, our children Ardanion and Baniel had begun to reveal the adults they would soon be. In both, the Elvish heritage of their mother, mixed with my fathers through me, blossomed beautifully, but struggled within the mortal ground where they’d been sown, soil I had inherited from my mother. Baniel, who was not only as beautiful as her mother Seregrian, was also as insightful and powerfully willful. Her pursuits of her interests were relentless and untiring, and she could not satisfy her curiosities quickly enough. In this her mortal impetuousness and impatience always burned. Although she loved her mother and I, as is only natural, she was equally rebellious, driven by her own determination to have her questioning mind satisfied. Her frustration never seemed to end, for in answering one question, two more invariably hurled themselves up. Seregrian would meet her contentiousness as the unmovable object opposing the irresistible force. As I loved them both, I would often place myself between them; usually it would calm things, but on occasion it would make me, temporarily, the object of their combined irritation. At least, I reasoned, either outcome would ease the storm between them. During these times, Ardanion would wisely stay out of the fray directly, but would subsequently tend to each of them separately, smoothing their ruffles until each remembered the love felt in the embrace of the other, or with me when that was necessary.
As for Ardanion, he would spend as much time in the field as weather would reasonably permit. He became the House’s chief hunter and fisherman, and between his efforts afield and my own in the gardens, we kept the larder well stocked. As for his studies, his mother could be patient with their infrequency, but She had little tolerance for his mind wandering broadly across many topics and not staying focused on any. He did not study so much as explore the vast array of Her library’s offerings, like a vagabond instead of a scholar, like his father in his youth, more than his mother.
For Seregrian, there were some positive results in the sometimes-contentious periods with Her children. From Baniel’s argumentative nature She heard legitimate criticisms that inspired Her to rethink positions She had previously taken. Ardanion’s literary wanderings could assist Her in following a train of research across Her vast word-hoard. In truth, Her children proved to be very useful acolytes.
For me, my children’s presence deepened my love for Her, for in them I saw Her so strongly present, and was constantly reminded of the grace She had shown me by taking me as Her husband and Steward of Her House, our home.
Seregrian and I both realized, with some consternation, that each of our children was rushing with mortal urgency toward fledging from our nest and seeking their own lives. Knowing that they were of mixed blood, although mostly Elven, She and I suspected the challenges they might face in the world of mortals. Bainiel was more outwardly Elf in appearance, and being female in a male dominated world, would face the greater of challenges. Ardanion, like myself, bore virtually no physical signs of his Elven bloodline and thus would have more success moving through that same world unnoticed, if desired. Under the surface, though, the brilliance of their Elven heritage was strong and would mark them as something out of the ordinary unless they made efforts to disguise it. We doubted Baniel would have the tolerance to do that, and we simultaneously wished Ardanion would not suppress to it too readily. As parents, we wished them the opportunities to be every bit of who they would become.
