Wandering Hills...
...Wavering rivers
Faint footsteps...
...A prince was heading home.

Weeks had passed since Xerxes had left his third wife, Elemmiire, and he was devastated by such a turn of events. He had gone off into his study that was ways off into the forests that occupied Valisa; a gift from his parents. His steps were like faint drums upon the veins of his his parents lands, boot clad feet thudding upon the canvas of earth. He braved this journey several times and many years behind him. He was the elven prince, one that his mother and father had raised to be himself. And he was.

The sun shone...
...crossing the river
He won battles...
...In the heart

He was short, but that was because of his race; he was stout but a pacifist by nature. Yet he held a lot of pent up war within. Uphill he traveled, down hill and through rivers. Sandy blonde crown was shaggy upon his head, lithe yet stocky body build was hidden under his usual attire. He finally came to the open of the forest, the opening that lead him to the view of his home, question being who still remained there? Was anyone even home? So he called out.

"Mother! Father! I've returned!"