The two men turned to face Dawn. The stablehand's eyes instantly lit up with recognition and the young lad bowed his head respectfully. The caravan trader, dressed in richly-coloured garbs from far-off lands only saw a curious woman standing there, not the village witch reflected in the stableboy's eyes. The man ran a hand over his black beard, eyeing Dawn up and down as he gave her a conspirational look. Perhaps he mistook Dawn for a badly educated farmer's daughter.<br/><br/>The trader grinned and offered Dawn a wink while the stablehand made himself scarce. "Curious about my story, lass? Ever heard of the first elf?"<br/><br/>The first elf. Just one of hundred little fantasy tales and stories. Made up answers to such questions as to where the sun and earth came from. It was about the same level as fairies being responsible for morning dew, and has just as many lewd variations as that tale. The first elf was a supposedly primordial being who shaped the world and continued to do so. Dawn had enough experience with elves to know better though. Very few elves above four-hundred years have anything resembling sanity, and to have one thousand and thousand of years old?<br/><br/>Not caring wether Dawn knew the story or not, the man continued. "A traveller three towns over had seen her. The first elf. The one who gave birth and shaped the world. Hands as great claws to shape the earth, horns to carry the sky, and her skin coloured like ash from her lover the sun."<br/><br/>A tall story, like all those others, but... still...<br/><br/>"Twenty feet tall, and adorned with the stars themselves! I got one of the stars that fell from the man." The trader reached into his pocket, retrieving something small with his thick, grimy fingers. The small jewel laying in the center of his large hand was made of gold so ancient it was nearly black, with a colourless gem set into it. The thing almost looked fake. Just a small trinket to impress young and pretty women with. And...<br/><br/><i>...dangling on a chain, hanging from a worn and scarred horn. One of many adorning a frame that knew more jewelry than cloth as it's cover.</i><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>