[FINISHED]She was born in a tribe of fierce female warriors. Swords and spears have been her toys from the cradle. She has the only path before her, to become the tribe chief after her mother. Yet Ashurran dreams of strange lands, of bigger battles...
In one of the numerous battles of the Great War the Elves happened to fall back so hastily, they left their camp with the field hospital behind. Indra was the first to ride into it, and he saw that all the wounded were finished off with a dagger through the heart. It was the Elven custom: they believed death was more preferable to being captured alive. The Elves called it 'an honorable escape'. At once Indra noticed a tall Elven warrior with a dagger who was just about to cut the throat of another Elf, an unarmed youth in the white cloak of a healer.
Without a moment's hesitation Indra yanked out his bow from the saddle case, an arrow from his quiver, and shot the Elven warrior right in the eye. The warrior fell dead of the ground, and the young Elf, scared to death, gasped and covered his face with his sleeve. Indra dismounted, came up to the Elf and forced him to show his face. Instantly the human was captivated and awed, for the Elf was fair of face beyond the measure of men.
So Indra took off the Elf's own sash and bound his hands, lest the Elf would try to escape of commit suicide. He ordered the Elf to be brought into his house in Kassandana, along with other spoils of war. And no one even saw the Elf, except a few trusted servants.
In Indra's house the captive Elf was treated with the utmost care. He had been bathed in scented water, dressed up in silk and brocade, and adorned with silver and pearls. He had been meek and obedient, never raising his eyes, never uttering a single word; it was the usual behavior of a captive Elf.
Having returned from the war campaign, Indra spent all his time with the Elf. He enjoyed looking at his beautiful prize, speaking to him, breathing the same air as him. Of course, it was not enough for a full-blooded male who liked men as much as women. Indra kept hoping that he would make the Elf love him back, by being patient, understanding and undemanding. Everyone knew the story of Afaighu and his Elven wife; and Afaighu was not the only human who had managed to incite love in the heart of an Elf. Although it was also known that the Elves considered same-sex love a grievous sin, and there had been no such example in the history of Yunan. But Indra was still hopeful. Hadn't even wild beasts been tamed with patience and care?
Indra had never made any attempts on the Elf's virtue. All he dared to do was kissing the lock of his hair, caressing his palm, gently embracing him and so on. The Elf neither resisted nor encouraged his captor. He only blushed slightly, lowering his gaze. He was like a bird with its wings broken: fragile and sad.
Indra was known to be coarse and unrestrained while in his cups, same as any soldier in those days. But he had never even thought of forcing the Elf into his bed or inflicting bolder caresses on him, always being the perfect gentleman.
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One day Ashurran visited Indra to talk some business, and they drank wine while talking, as was their habit. She happened to look out of the window and saw Indra's captive in the garden. The sky was cloudy, but at that very moment, by some curious trick of the wind, the clouds had parted, and a single ray of sunshine poured over the young Elf, illuminating him from top to toe, as if admiring his beauty.
