Oct 20. Story about Eleanor's father

Character Sketch: Eleanor’s father
Height: @6’2”
Weight: Slender, but broad shouldered
Hair: White
Eyes: Green
Skin: Very pale
Age: 323
Eleanor’s father is a healer—he studies the ancient methods of his people—relying in herbs and roots instead of magic. He is ageless—looking forty or fifty. His hair is long, and thin, a color between platinum and corn silk. And he is beardless.
He is neither heavy nor thin—he is an entity to himself. His people respect him, but he doesn’t understand the force that drives Eleanor—causing her to be a firebrand for the Elves. He seems cold and distant, but that is only towards Eleanor. Her mother died during childbirth and there was nothing her father could do to save her. He blames himself, and in some way, he also blames Eleanor. Their relationship is strained.



Tuesday, Oct. 20
Background Story: Minor or supporting character #2.
The male sparrow hopped along the branch, bringing the female a long piece a grass. After examining it carefully, the female tossed it out of the nest. Undaunted the male sparrow flew off to find another piece of grass. Eleanor was supposed to be meditating, instead, she had been watching the sparrows build their nest. The female was very choosey about the grass she’s accept from the male and weave into the fabric of their nest. The poor male was flying all over the forest bringing back strands of grass every moment or so.
“Eleanor.”
A voice behind her spoke her name softly, she turned to find her father standing there with his hands clasped together, watching her.
“Father,” she replied, acknowledging his presence.
He took a step closer and waited. “I hear that you will soon be leaving the glades,” he said after a moment’s pause, “and spending time among the heathens.”
Eleanor nodded.

She had lived with her grandmother for most of her life. However, on her 18th birthday, her grandmother had taken her to one side and told her that it was now time to take up her place in elven society, and that would start with her looking after her father. For the last seven years she had cooked, cleaned, mended clothes and generally been his housekeeper. In all that time he had never spoken to her as a sentient being. Each morning he had told her what time he would return, and each evening he had announced his presence. That was all. That he should seek her out, and speak to her as one rational creature to another, was almost unthinkable.
“While I am gone, Tallia” she said mentioning her cousin, “will look after you and make your meals.”
“And you did not think to tell me this yourself,” was the soft accusation he threw at her.
“I did not think that having your meals prepared by Tallia instead of me, would need to be explained. The food will arrive, you will eat it in silence, and in silence you will retire to your room. I have explained to Tallia what foods you will eat, and which you will not.”
“You are my daughter,” he insisted, drawing himself up to his full height. “You should have asked my permission before making such arrangements. Now that I do know about it, I forbid it.”

Eleanor found herself standing without remembering how she got there.
“No,” she croaked. “I have spent months training for this. I am 25 years old. By elven tradition, I am now old enough to chose a husband and set up my own home. Instead I choose to join the rangers and experience the world beyond. I don’t need your permission father in this. I have made my choice and I stand by it.”
“If you defy me in this,” her father growled, his eyes narrowing, his finger pointing at her chest. “I will disown you. You will no longer be a daughter of mine.”
Eleanor fought back an overwhelming sense of sadness.
“As you wish father,” she told him, tears filling her eyes. “But I shall miss our long talks, and your warm smiles.”
Her father’s answer was to glare at her with eyes like slits, before turning on his heel and marching away.