Day 1

I must get to the humans! They can help... they must! Their consciences won't let them not do something. That was all that was going through my mind as I trudged through the barren arctic landscape, looking for those who could help, the humans for whom we toiled hour after hour without rest. Yes, even we have heard of the Egyptian's legendary magical powers, to speak to animals, to even patch together the dead... The humans will be our salvation. At that instant, I remembered nothing, except a feeling like my skin froze, my stomach dropped, and my clothes were much too hot.

Warmth! Real warmth, not my power's substitute warmth, but actual warmth as made by a real fire! I attempted to sit-up, but my movements were sluggish, as if I was frozen. In fact, I probably had been frozen. I heard voices, and my ears pricked. Were they human, or elvish? Or... him. I vaguely heard a deep voice speaking gibberish. It sounded like him, but I had never heard him speak in a meaningless gibberish. I opened my eyes, and saw 7 people who looked like him. And he used to be human, didn't he! I must be with humans! I listened to them spout gibberish at me, and then said as clearly as possible, "My name is Henry Remus. I speak as a delegate from the Elvish Liberation Committee, requesting reinforcements."

They spoke gibberish to each other, which I realized must be their form of communication. The Egyptians used hieroglyphs, so maybe they had a different form of speech too! Revelation after revelation. Well, if I can't communicate verbally, I'll mindspeak to them. I prepared the clear pictures of snow, slavery, and pointy ears, and looked for the closest magician. I gasped, and then slid down on my makeshift bed. None of them could mindspeak. Why wouldn't they have brought a magician? From my understanding, they generally didn't get this far south, and on an important mission like this, they should have sent a strong one. Yet, none of them had an inkling of power, except the one who was to my direct right, and he never used it. I had gotten so used to everyone I knew having magic, (All elves have at least a little magic, and he has an almost limitless supply). Could the humans not have any? In broken elvish, the one with a tinge of magic said, "You speak Latin?"

"No, I speak elvish."

"Like... elves?"

"YES! Whatever did you think I was!"

The man started speaking the gibberish to his friends again, and as he did, I picked his mind for his meaning. I saw that he believed that I was crazy, or lying. I groaned, and attempted to start a fire to fend off the boredom, but I had sapped my energy crossing the tundra. So I just made a small hot spot to direct the man's attention back to me. "I'm not lying, and I need your strongest magicians to help me defeat he who enslaves."

"What? Who?"

"Our master... He who was once human but gave it up for immortality and nearly limitless magic. You know him by another name, but he need not tell us, his slaves." I spat that word out of my mouth as though it were a hot coal.

"You said... strongest magicians?"

"Aye. Magic users, Witches, wizards, warlocks, medicine man, witch doctor, enchanter, sorceress..."

"I get what you mean, but... Magic doesn't exist."

My anger at the uselessness of my hours of trudging through the frozen snow, freezing my ass off, to gain the help of our relatives, the legendary humans, those who could raise others from the dead, some of which were descended from the gods, gave me the additional energy to create miniature fireworks, the most blatant show of magic I could think of, and collapsed, again. "Ha," I rasped triumphantly.

The humans began to talk among themselves again, and once again, I picked the mind of the one with only a tinge of power. They still disbelieved me! Even that minor form of magic drained the last of my reserves, and I fell asleep, right after I renewed my oaths against him. The slaver.