Log cast: Treestump, Jaylorra
Log date: 7/24/1998 
Log intro: 
	During his time in the Underworld Treestump befriended a Cavedweller lass 
by the name of Blackwatch.  Over the turn or so spent in the tunnels, he watched 
her go through a series of tramautic experiences, including having her soulname 
known by the Underworld Lord and having her child stolen from her not long after 
it's birth.  She was named Jaylorra, her Upworld heritage renounced.
	Then, not long ago, Treestump recieved a blurry sending from the 
Underworld that cut off abruptly.  He and Clearbrook journeyed there to find out 
what happened; disturbed, he invited Jaylorra and her new family to Lostholt in 
hopes of finding out what had happened away from the caverns's influences.  
Unfortunately, things did not go as planned, for Jaylorra's mate was rude to the 
Wolfriders and tension was thick.  The trio was restricted to the river during 
their visit.
	Now, hoping to make amends and perhaps make up for leaving her behind in 
the Underworld when he and the others were released, Treestump goes to speak 
with Jaylorra..

East Bank of the Silver Run River
The cold land here dips down into the frozen shallows along the edge of
 the river. The upper portion of the bank is covered with a thick
 blanket of snow that disappears over the top of the hill and the part
 closest to the river is smoothed like ice. To the west, you see that
 the river now has huge chunks of ice floating in it and to cross to the
 other side, you must swim through the freezing waters. To the south and
 north, you see that the snow covered land curves and follows the rivers
 course. The loving embrace of the great father tree keeps the sleeping
 elves and wolves cocooned in warmth.
Contents:
Jaylorra(#4808PJUceg)
Dark Tent(#9622Je)
Obvious exits:
South Along the River<S>  Into the River<W>  Along the River<N>  Hill<E>  

Despite the cold, Treestump crouches in one of the trees that thinly
 line the edges of the Silver Run River, looking down at the small
 campsite. His frown is dark, almost gloomy, and his brow is weighed
 with thought. One arm is wound about his knees, tucking them close to
 his chest, and his other arm is placed over top of them, peering over
 the edge of his forearm to watch for any sign of life, should there be
 any. It would have been better, he thinks, to have been able to keep
 the lass and her cub inside his den, inside the Father Tree. If only
 things had gone better, smoother, maybe it would have turned out as
 expected. He fouled up big-time instead. So he broods.

Jaylorra moves around the camp, wrapping another fur around her as she
 does. A skin is taken to the water's edge to be filled, but is laid
 aside as she contemplates the changes that have been made in her. A
 trembling hand touches smooth skin and she covers her face with her
 hands, unable to look any longer.

He shifts forward on his branch, looking down at his 'little lass' with
 concern as he watches the change in expression and stance. Now
 Treestump hops down, snow crunching beneath the heels of his boots, and
 moves forward a single step. His sending is soft, rumbling with gentle,
 yet strained patience. ** Lass..? **

Jaylorra flinches but takes the time to pull the hood up over her face,
 concealing her shame. ** Do you find me difficult to look at,
 Treestump? ** There is regret in her tone, and pain as well.

** The change is difficult, aye, ** the old wolf answers gruffly,
 bluntly, moving towards her side to crouch, regarding her with a quiet
 expression. Treestump frowns lightly, reaching to take her hand before
 she pulls at the hood, brows drawing together. ** But at you? Nay,
 lass. I can get over that. **

Jaylorra sighs and drops her other hand to her lap. ** I seem to have
 made poor choices. Your healer...all I wanted was to be happy, and I'm
 still hurting. ** She leans forward so that her thick hair falls in a
 curtain, shielding her face, and the tears that coat in the cold,
 leaving traces of frost.

Treestump sighs as well, but only slightly, the hand that holds hers
 gripping it tightly, his other hand moving to settle overtop.
 "Sometimes it difficult to look past it all, Jaylorra," he speaks
 quiet, voice still faintly rumbling. "You can't deny that.. that
 Malandor has done some pretty foul things in the past. As well as
 others of his.. your folk. Sometimes its just too hard to tell who's
 the enemy and who's not."

Jaylorra looks down at the hands laid over hers. ** Why did you leave me
 there, Treestump? ** There is no accusation, just the need to know how
 things went so horribly wrong. She bites at her lip, suddenly now
 wishing she could take the words back. Wishing she could take all that
 has happened and push it into the darkness, to be forgotten.

"I.." Treestump bites his lip and looks at the water, some of the
 suppressed, bitter emotion making it to his darkened blue eyes. "I
 don't know, li'l lass," he says after a long moment, releasing her hand
 to draw both of his into his lap. "I suppose.. It never crossed my mind
 that you weren't there. I had.. assumed that when Suntop gave out the
 call, you had come. That you had left as well. I never.. thought that
 you would have.. stayed there."

Jaylorra pulls her hand away, hunching up into herself, so thin and
 frail looking at the moment. Her eyes wander toward the tent where
 lifemate and child sleep. ** It was harder giving birth to Gwydion. **
 A half-sad smile touches her face. ** You weren't there to help me,
 that had to be it. ** And she shrugs, trying to regain the light that
 brought her here. ** Cutter seems fair, but...he doesn't look like any
 of you. Why? **

"Heh." The memory of the birthing of little Galasia draws a smile, only
 to have it dimmed by the harsh memories that followed directly after
 it. What ever happened to the wee babe? he wonders, yet does not ask,
 the questions left silent in his eyes. A story for another time. At her
 query, though, his expression turns grimmer still and a rough sigh is
 released, fingers digging into the cold snow. "Remember what I said
 about a lass that you resemble, that has done many a bad thing?"

Jaylorra nods, her eyes softening slightly as she listens, and as her
 mind turns back. "Yes, you said she had long black hair like me." And
 even though she's listening, hermind is cast back to her small
 daughter. She's seen her once or twice, scampering through the
 underdark, collecting her little rocks...Jay presses her lips together,
 fighting back more tears.

"That's not all she had," Treestump replies with a dry smile, then
 reaches to touch a hand to her shoulder, squeezing lightly at the
 twisting of Jaylorra's expression. He is here, a voice whispers
 unheard. Things went badly here, not as expected, but there is no anger
 for you. The old wolf is still your friend. "Well.. her name is
 Winnowill and she's a bit like Morganthe. Lord and all, with the same
 magic.. She did to Cutter what she did to you, made him taller and like
 a Glider.." His smile is bitter. "But she didn't ask first."

Jaylorra sighs. "Then they don't like me because I chose this path?" The
 words are almost whispered, she's that bleak. "I've saw nothing more
 for me, and Malandor...for his faults, he is kind to me." Another sigh
 as she brushes her hair back from her face, looking out over the cold
 gray water. "I suppose we should just go home. It would make things
 better, wouldn't it?"

To this, Treestump is silent, his regard fully on the crystalline sheen
 of the passing water of the River. The answer is obvious, but it is an
 unpleasant one.

Jaylorra says "I-if I had come alone? What then? Would the reaction have
 been the same?"

Treestump draws in a sharp breath. ** I won't lie to you, lass, ** he
 sends after a time. ** I truly don't think it would've been the same.
 You were civil, kind.. But your mate.. ** He trails off.

Jaylorra dips her head in a bow, considering. ** There is nothing
 between you but hate. I understand that. I will never grow to accept
 Sirinailia's presence...after what she did to me. There is much to be
 said for Morganthe. He is a good lord, when he chooses to be. Don't
 blame him for what happened to me. **

Treestump's smile is oddly wry. "I don't hate Morganthe, lass. He just
 strikes me as one who's a little ... eh, muddled in the head." It seems
 difficult for him to say this, yet its true, isn't it? For all his
 wrongs, Morganthe seems to really understand the consequences of his
 actions. One thing that Malandor lacks is that understanding.

Jaylorra bites her lips. ** He must have known what would happen when we
 came. Why did he let us come here? ** She's trying to find answers to
 help balm her hurt at the harsh rejection she suffered from the other
 that saw her. "Why does the healer hate me so?"

"Maybe he thought Malandor could watch that flapping mouth of his for
 once," Treestump answers, the harshness of his tone not the least bit
 hidden. But then, at the spoken words, he can only shrug in reply and
 offer a small, half-hearted smile. "Bad memories, lass. Winnowill is a
 wicked one, and not an elf you can forget so easily."

Jaylorra laughs shakily, breathless for a moment. "I don't know why I
 thought choosing to be this way would make things any better. I am
 looked down on wherever I go, and all for appearances sake. I want
 myself back."

"So ask Morganthe for it," is Treestump's nearly instant reply, reaching
 to tuck some stray ebon hair back behind her ear in affectionate
 gesture. "If he, as you said, gave this.. form to you willingly, then
 why wouldn't he take it back?"

Jaylorra nods, silently contemplating... ** I think I will. ** She looks
 at you, her blue eyes sparkling softly. ** At least Flashfire wouldn't
 hate me for the changes I made. **

Treestump nods and tilts his head to one side, then rises slowly to his
 feet. "I'll be back, lass.. Needed at the Holt." He reaches out to
 touch her hooded head and pats her once, gently, since he obviously
 cannot tousle her hair, then moves to disappear back the way he came.

Jaylorra watches him leave, her eyes thoughtful. His tribe needs him,
 and she won't interfere.

[end log]