The birth of Yafein

Yafein, the elf of the world tree. The undying and eternal elf.

He was not the first elf, but he will remain the last elf. He was the elf born from the tears of the first tree, the world tree. When the elves and the dwarves fought over dominion over the world tree, Yafein had yet to born.

The world tree stood on top of the first mountain, domain of the dwarves. The world tree was surrounded by its children who formed the first forest, domain of the elves.

The first tree, meant to unite dwarf and elf, living alone and far away from each other, did not understand. The first tree embraced them both, yet they did not agree with the tree, nor with each other.

To the dwarves, the tree did not belong and had to go. To the elves, the tree was mistaken and should be brought home to the other forests down below. For the first time they agreed, but did not see. For their reasons were as far apart as their homes. Their methods of achieving their goals were even more so.

For the first time they stood on the same ground, yet claiming it all and only their own. Wanting to chase the other away. Blaming it all on the first tree.

The first tree however saw the truth, from all the way up in its lofty and mighty branches.It saw that the world was big enough for the both of them, with many places of common ground, where mountain and forest existed together in perfect harmony.

Yet down on the ground, down below the earth, dwarf and elf only saw the hate and the wall in between.

The dwarves took to their axes to get the roots of the first tree out of the rock of 'their' mountain. The elves rushed up with bow and sword in hand. To save the tree, they would destroy each and every dwarf.

As the first axe fell on its roots, the first tree trembled, never before having felt something as painful as this. As more of the dwarven axes took to its roots, the trembling became worse. Yet it was nothing compared to the hurt that would follow. It could only stand and powerlessly watch as the elves took to the same hatred of the dwarves.

The tree was no longer the only one suffering the axe of the dwarf. Both dwarf and elf felt the bite of cold steel as well. They bled and fell to the ground, while the first tree could only tremble in sorrow. For the first tree had known many of those at its roots. It had seen both dwarf and elf grow up and grow old, only for new and young ones to rise in their place.

But now, now they only fell down, to become nourishment for its children, but without children of their own if this were to continue for long. That is when the first tree did what no tree had done before. It was sad beyond pain and grief. It trembled, no longer of hurt at its roots, but out of the feeling of despair and loss.

Unable to act, only able to stand tall and watch as all of the dwarves and elves were falling like an eternal autumn, with only one winter to follow their eternal slumber. It could not bear the hurt of not witnessing any more spring for the race of dwarves nor for the race of elves. And the first tree wept.

Powerless and helpless to stop the falling of their leaves, the leaves of the first tree turned into crystal, bright and completely clear, like water taken solid form. The first tree wept, tears of crystal, sending its leaves down in sadness and sorrow.

Gathering many slain souls, both dwarf and elf alike beneath a blanket of crystal, wrapping them gently in the roots freed by the dwarven axe. The first tree tried to protect them as best as he could, those young sprigs of dwarf and elf, cut down before their full bloom could happen.

More leaves rained down unto the fighting and the tree started to shake violently. So violently both dwarf and elf stepped back from the tree in fear and horror of what may follow such violent tremour up its trunk.

At the point where the tree touched the grass, now fully covered with elves and dwarves between its roots, a giant crack started to form. The sound of ancient wood, strong and hard, breaking down to its very core, was a sound that would hound everyone present until the day they died. Nothing could be imagined to be more bone chilling than that sound. Yet the tree remained steadfast. It stayed standing tall, straight up into the sky. No longer perfect and strong, for through the crack movement could be seen.

In its desperation and a final outcry to the gods, it had given up its soul and become a petrified giant tree. Lifeless, dead on the inside. Broken and no longer the proud parent of all living beneath it. Only empty branches reaching for the star filled sky above.

While the last leaves fell down toward the ground, that movement inside the crack had reached the edges. One last life had been created by the first tree, and his name would be Yafein.

Out of the now fossilised tree, stepped an elf, white and fragile looking, fair skin like the stars above, pale hair like the leaves at his feet. Out into the open he stepped, looking around him with a look of deep sorrow on his face.

He turned around and wept, crying for the death of the first tree, thanking it for giving his life, so Yafein might live.

Yafein looked at the elves and dwarves standing around, stunned and bewildered at what had happened. Horrofied at the sound of the first tree's death cry. Mystified at the appearance of Yafein, the elf of the tree, made of crystal tears and stars. Yafein called for the leaders of both dwarf and elf. For them to come to him and resolve this fight. For them to live on, in peace, if it meant for them to be on their own again. So the sacrifice of the first tree would not have been in vain. For this was the only way he had seen to be able to act and make them stop so their young saplings would live to experience a new spring.

The talks with Yafein were long and deep and heated at first. Yet Yafein endured, he listened, he spoke, he comforted and he healed. Not caring if those he attended or spoke to were dwarf or elf, to Yafein, all were children of the first tree. Yafein would act where the first tree no longer could. He would care for both, intervene between both, so both may live on in the rest of the world. So maybe one day, they could see the truth the first tree had seen on top of the first mountain. That one day, elf and dwarf would be able to live together in perfect harmony.

This hatred, this sorrow however, it runs deep in the blood of both dwarf and elf and it is very hard for them to overcome.

Yet Yafein will wait, he will remain. He is the guardian of the first tree, patiently waiting, for the day the first tree has dreamt of. Silently, he waits for the day that elf and dwarf stand before him once more, but side by side this time.