Pilgrimage

[Sollis Lott]

pil·grim·age

/ˈpilɡrəmij/

noun - literary

life viewed as a journey.

"life's pilgrimage"

As the caravan from the east hobbled along on the rough road, many of those who had booked passage were taking a “walking” break just to stretch their legs and give their backsides a break from the rhythmic thrashing of the wooden seats.


The tall, golden haired elf wearing green and gold was no different.

It had been years since he had taken to the roads. But this was his calling, and he knew it. He had travelled as far west as the Moonshae Isles and across the breadth of Faerun as far east as Kara Tur. And had hit many destinations in between along the way. It seemed like his home in Silverymoon was so far away, even now, as they neared Cormyr.

He passed the time journaling, drawing with pencil and ink/quill, as well as practicing his family’s craft: The Path of the Blade. Kellendill, after all, was a Fehrien. His family had devoted themselves to the pursuit of martial science and its perfection for centuries. And he was no different.


Walking along beside the Caravan, Kellendill’s mind wandered as he watched the horizon and noted the details of his surroundings. As it often did, his mind eventually wandered back to the time of his youth in Silverymoon as he learned the Fehrien Path…..


        “Kellendill..I want you to perform kata number 6 as quickly as you can"........


        "Yes, grandfather....".....


        The young elf continues his practice..... drenched in sweat.... he again goes through the motions of the Fehrien Bladesong......kata number 6........and loses himself within it.....


        Kellendill's grandfather, Teh'Renill Fehrien, encouraged his grandson....." no, Kellendill...... more smoothly...Yes.... like that...... now..... finish strong!"

        Kellendill finishes with a 'spirit shout'..."Kiai!...."...and the longblade is held parallel to the floor for as long as his grandfather should wish.....


        "Remember, Kellendill.." said Teh'Renill, " you must lose yourself in the motion, so that it becomes instinctive....so that you perform it without thought or emotion.....then, it becomes a reflex, devoid of thought."

        "Yes, grandfather...." Kellendill repied, and so the lesson continued.

[Sollis Lott]

The caravan pulled slowly into the outskirts of the Forest Kingdom of Cormyr. As the travelers offloaded, Kellendill looked around the around. In gathering his bearings, he noted the heavily forested and rural 'feel' of the place. He liked that.

As he approached the man who took stock of their statuses and determined if they would be admitted, his mind wandered to the past.... a day in the family dojo... with his Grandfather....

------------

Sparring... the Fehrien way of life......

"yes, Kellendill.... to your left.... you are leaving your off side open.....Close the hole!"

A Fehrien House weaponmaster (Thrace Ravensong) coaches the young grandson of the house patriarch.....coaches and guides him, as do others from the clan.

"Uphold the past, young Kellendill!" shouts Kellendill's grandfather, Teh'Renill Fehrien. The aged elf was pleased that he had continued this progression..... from child to warrior. For a long while, now, had he seen his charges grow into full grown elves...and get themselves scarred and worse.

This one must be different.

-----------------

And he was broken from this reverie by the sharp "NEXT!" of the man at the gate.

[Sollis Lott]

Megil’tura

…. years and years ago…...



The young Kellendill sat in his family’s study at their small ancestral home along the streets of Silverymoon. High above the water, he watched the peaceful river flow past his family’s small estate…..lost in thought and reading of the tales of Torvaariis Fehrien.



He was the Family’s Blademaster… the Megil’tura.  And he was the progenitor of the Path.


The most famous of the Fehrien Blademasters, he reveled in slaying the traditional enemies of the Tel’quessir. And where the blade was concerned….he was….magnificent. He was also everything that Kellendill aspired to be.  As a direct student of his Grandfather, Teh’Renill Fehrien, and his Grandmother, Eh’Lleria Fehrien….BOTH fabled blademasters of yore…..Kellendill studied the Fehrien Style of Bladework as closely as any being had ever endeavored. And he learned it well.



“A prodigy”, he had been called. His Grandfather referred to him as “the sponge” for his uncanny ability to retain information in VAST quantities. A naturally ambidextrous elf, he took to wielding twin warblades as a fish does to water. And Kellendill LOVED it. He LIVED for the training, the study, the motion, the idea of it all. It was his life.  And he had a LONG legacy to which he had to meet. Centuries….that is how long the House of Fehrien had served the elves of Silverymoon. Through wars, and skirmishes, campaign and patrol, they had led others into battle and had honed their family’s unique blend of bladework and martial science.



That is the path he must follow… the Fehrien Path of the Blade.

[Sollis Lott]

The Art.

Most who refer to “the art” are referring to the art of magic or sorcery. The Weave.  But to a Fehrien… “the Art” is different.



Eons ago… Torvarriis Fehrien was a gifted warrior. He served with The Knights in Silver in service to Silverymoon and the Queen herself. He served the Elven People. He was a devoted patriot. He fought like a warrior poet, and gave his life for all of us. He was our Founder:  House Fehrien.  Our House was founded in service to the Queen and Her elves. It is our Raison D’Etre…our Reason for Being. Also…..we are dedicated to the Path of the Fehrien Family. Our Path…. The Fehrien Path of the Blade.



Corellon taught The aged elves of old many principles. Chief among them was warfare and the technique of the blade. Many elves since have contributed to the amalgam of teaching, but his was a peculiar blend to say the least. And Torvarriis learned it all. It was his life study. 


Some times, in life, we see someone who was BORN for a specific purpose. Some are scholars….others are wizards…some serve a Deity as a priest. Some, however, are born to wield the blade. To innovate. To study. To revolutionize. To go BEYOND what they were taught in the pursuit of universal truth.  Thus….was born Torvarriis Fehrien. The FATHER of The Fehrien Path of the Blade. In HIS mind…was a genius of unparalleled quality.  He soaked up knowledge from anywhere that he could. He learned to master the elements of any weapon he could get his hands on, and learned them from the perspective of elves, as well as dwarves and, even, humans. Anything worth knowing, he entertained.



And he cataloged.



Vast are the written works of Torvarriis within the historical volumes of House Fehrien.  Detailed knowledge of his technique….his battles….his experience….and his conclusions. No politics….no racism….only FACT.  THIS…..is the foundation upon which our PATH is based. What works….is what we keep. All else is discarded or modified. This is an uncommon trait among our people…..universal pragmatism. It is one of our secrets.  The PURITY of our knowledge must be cultivated and maintained. This is kellendill’s life mission.



Kellendill was taught his family’s method of using a blade. From a young age, he was immersed in it. It was his driving purpose. He studied, day and night. He was BORN into it. And he loved it.  The Fehrien Path of the Blade was kept and maintained as closely to what HE was taught as is possible.  The further one gets, in a river system, from its source, the WEAKER the flow.  So he stayed TRUE, as did his father, and his grandfather, before him.



It was this TECHNIQUE that was different.



Fehriens did NOT rely on size and strength. They used their minds….the capabilities of the weapon…and its USE…to overcome the opponent. The inherent STRENGTHS of what they were given were maximized..and the weaknesses were minimized…to achieve their goal.  No motion was wasted, all was maximized for efficiency.  Each tiny detail had a vast purpose.  It was their way. They SANG the song of their people as they weaved their knowledge and technique into a deadly ballet. And they persevered.  Always.



This… was the beauty of the Fehrien Style of Fighting…. The ‘Hathelin Imrad’.

[Sollis Lott]

Passing through the outer lands of Cormyr, the caravan began to near the outskirts of a town called Greatgaunt.  Kellendill allowed his mind to wander in a short reverie.....

...to a time long, long ago.....back to a time when the Fehrien Dojo of his home was an active place of training… and his Grandfather, Teh’Renill… walked the City’s streets……and one particularly memorable training session:


---------------------------

        “Kellendill… you must learn of the secrets of our way of fighting… the discipline of it…of the Steel.”



         Kell watched and listened to his Grandfather, the teacher of his formidable father, Kel’Renill. He listened in awe….



        “You will live your life, Kellendill, by only a few principles. Study… learn…. Practice… all of them important. But TRUST… is something different. You cannot trust many things…. Not MEN…not WOMEN……not BEASTS….none of that can you trust…”



         But then, the teacher pointed to his exquisitely crafted Elven Warblade, touching it with his finger….



        “But THIS… THIS you can trust, my young protégé… THIS…you can trust.”


---------------------------


...and he looks down at that blade as it sits, sheathed at his hip...and wonders what the world has in store for him here.

[Sollis Lott]

Exquisite.

The Ary’Velahr’Kerehm…..”Elven Warblades”.

This is the proper name for Kellendill Fehrien’s matched set of Elven Longblades….carried in scabbards of black leather, with inserted Emeralds and gold and platinum accoutrement, they hung from a thick, custom-made, belt of heavy leather.

The blades were masterpieces, forged centuries ago on a commission to a genius of an elven master-smith by Kellendill’s Great-Grandfather, Nellanthiis Fehrien. The smith, a very well-known artist and craftsman in the elven world named Auriliis, spent almost a year making just the two blades.


The finest materials, both fine elven steels and imported pure mithril, went into the blade’s rough body. It was heated and pounded together in layers, rough layers, in a process, similar to the human process of making “Tama-Hagane” steel, but known to elven smiths as “the ura’natulii”, which means “to heat and to become”.


And then he began to fold it. For many days, he would heat it up, pound the lump, fold it, shape it, and then repeat the process. After a few days, the blank had become a billet, with over 2000 layers of blended metal.  He shaped the warblades by hand, side by side. Curved slightly, and about 1 centimeter thick, on average. The blade was light, but supple. Strong, but flexible. It was as sharp as a razor blade and easily capable of severing the leg of a troll in one good slash.  The process was slow, painstaking, and meticulous. The blades HAD to be both perfect, AND exact. He did most of the work, with his apprentices, by hand.  The man was a master at his craft.


Soon, they began to look like the finished product. The guard/hilt and pommel where made of a strong dwarven blend of steel and brass called “Ascud’a’Unda”, or “warrior’s steel”, known for looking like polished gold but retaining its incredible strength. Each handle was made of the horn of an adult dragon, taken by Kellendill’s Great-Grandfather decades before. It was wrapped in strong wire made of the hilt/pommel material, and woven by hand into a strong metal twine….fine, but beautiful.



And then, off to be sharpened and polished. Again, a week-long process of using ever more soft water stones, and also done by hand by a practiced master who specialized in only this portion of the process.  At the end of it all, the blades were otherworldly in their craftsmanship, worthy of a king’s hand, and so incredibly formidable that they would be written about for ages.



The Fehrien Ary’Velahr’Kerehm…Fehrien Style Elven Warblades.

[Sollis Lott]

Honor
"Hanta'le" in Elvish

Kellendill honored his grandfather.  Teh'Renill had taught him most of what he knew of the blade and the family's craft.  Their unique method.  When he passed into Arvandor, Kellendill was lost.  On the eve of his leaving on his Musha Shugyo, Kellendill penned a traditional piece of poetry in his Grandfather’s honor:

Wielding his blood sword,

A hero who fights with pride,

And slays with honor.

He is a brave soul,

Drawing blood only for peace,

Never for vengeance.

Even if he falls,

In the midst of battle,

His name will stay on.

(He penned it on the background of a painting of traditional Cherry Blossums, the Fehrien Family flower.)