Guillaume: Aelael Talar (Elven Chainmail)

"By Corellon!" I exclaimed which ended in a low whisper. "You did not have to ... This is too much!" I looked around suspiciously to see if anybody else had heard me. I surprised myself.

The chainmail armor was of exquisite make. It had elaborate patterns that mimick intertwined branches topped with spring leaves. And it caught light as the sparkling rivers that run through the ancient forests of old. It weighed so lightly. There was no doubt that it was made by no less than elvish hands.

"Then perhaps someone else would be interested in .." Father Zanthus had started to rewrap the armor. I pulled on his arm. "I didnt say I did not want it" I interrupted.

"Look at it .. " I ran my hand through the patterns. "Mi air tandrorolael" (She is magnificent). Father Zanthus looked at me oddly, not quite fluent in the language of my forebears but he had a good understanding of my reverence towards artifacts. They are considered sacred.

"And it is yours" He chuckled.

I kept myself in check though. I didnt want to appear to eager.

"Thank you .. in behalf of the holy mother church." I bowed in appreciation of his gesture for the last time.

I took my leave.

* * *

It is a gift. I am convinced of Corellon's hand in the matter. It was for the years of dedicated service to the church and devotion to Him. I am insignificant but let me be your instrument. I thanked to Corellon.

To my quarters behind the church, I hurried. I got out of my leather armor and took a well deserved bath. I repeated the day's events in my head. The goblin attack mostly taking center stage.

close to midnight, I have come to the conclusion of what I must do. I summoned a nightingale to inform Father Zanthus of my intentions. It was a simple ritual.

In my newly acquired armor I went into the night.