Ëamor, prince of Felldar.

Ëamor, the young prince of Felldar, rested against the marble railing of the balcony, the mountains of Felldar set before him.  He lazily beheld the multitude of courtiers, soldiers, servants and laborers bustling about in the courtyard below, the tumult of noise reaching his lofty perch.  The sound of footfalls on polished stone made Ëamor turn his head; Orwyl, Ëamor's head servant, came from the prince's room.  Orwyl knelt before Ëamor.
"It is time for your lessons, your Highness."
Ëamor sighed, it was that time of day, but he followed his manservant through the many staircases of Narrin Keep, the royal city, to Madam Hana's study.  Madam Hana was a tall, dark-haired, middle aged women who taught linguistics to the children of the King or nobles.  Ëamor sat down next to Faleth, the son of the Lord Admiral, Fredrick.  Faleth thumped Ëamor in the shoulder, Ëamor grinned at his friend.  Madam Hana cleared her throat, calling the boys, the girls learned languages seperatly, to order.  Hana drew her large slate from a drawer and she took a piece of chalk and drew the runic alphabet of the human language.
"We took our script from the dwarves, who invented the runic letters when they would record numbers of ore on stone tablets. But yet, our spoken language is different from that of the dwarves, Galen, where did we get our spoken language from?"
Galen, the son of a wealthy merchant, responded with well practiced ease.
"Everyone.  We have patched together our words from the tongues of the elves, dwarves and even the orcs.'
"Very good, Galen.   Now, Faleth, what is the dwarven word for "dwarf"?"
Faleth thought for a moment, then said,
"Khazad!  It's khazad."
Hana nodded.
"Annunciate the first 'a' and it will be perfect."
Faleth did so.  Madam Hana then told the class that today they would study dwarven syntax.  Everyone groaned inwardly.
Though learning new languages was somewhat interesting it wasn't Ëamor's favorite class, neither was history.  Master Felton would drone on about some old Felldar inventor who made this or that.  Ëamor did like the lessons on long ago battles, of heroes, of villains, and of adventures.  Ëamor loathed dancing and many of the other 'courtly' lessons.  The lessons that the prince excelled were those of swordsmanship, horseback riding, navigation, and archery.
After a particularly hard bout of sword practice, Ëamor wiped his brow and looked up to the thunder of hooves; a company of horsemen rose into view.  Mândturos, Ëamor's half brother, was at the head of the column, astride his dark gray charger; he had his sword in his hand, it was splattered with crimson.  The cavalry rode past the sword master's hut, up the steep path to Narrin Hold and through the great oaken gates.  Ëamor had never been fond of his older half brother, and the feeling was mutual.  Their father, King Dândturos, had messed around with a banished elf, Leah.  Queen Isel, for this reason, loved her own son over Ëamor, and Dândturos only had room for so much family time; so Ëamor's childhood was, besides friends and tutors, rather lonely.
Ëamor, know near manhood, came into the Throne Hall from the stables.  He tracked in straw and dirt on the polished marble floor; he could see his step-mother's look of disdain from across the hall.  Mândturos was already in the hall, along with the Felldar royal ambassadors and the aged Madam Hanna.  Ëamor then noticed some strange folk standing before the throne; they were as tall as men, but more slender, they had white, beautifully crafted bows on their backs, long blond or brown hair, and elegant needle green or rich brown tunics and trousers, and their long, slight ears were pointed.  The elves stood in a small group before the King of Felldar, talking in fluent Ardoran Common, the language of Felldar and other Telnar-descended men.  One of the elves, a male, his near white blond hair held in a simple pony tail, turned and looked at Ëamor; the elf's face was narrower than a human's, and his eyes were slanted, like a cat.  Ëamor walked over, his footsteps reverberating around the vast hall, he stood on the opposite side of the raised dais from his half-brother and step-mother.  The elf ambassador resumed her talking.
"…Your Majesty, the shadow grows strong in the west, none dare appose it.  And though last time, during Nulcarn's reign of darkness, we elves hid from the grasping shadows; we are willing to make alliances with men this time."  Her accent was rich and whimsical.
King Dândturos stroked his gray speckled beard.  His chief advisor spoke then.
"Why don't we mull it over, your Majesty?"
"Yes, alright," the King looked at the elves, "you wouldn't mind giving us a moment, would you?"
"Of course not, your Majesty."  The elf woman said with a graceful bow.  The other elves bowed and followed their leader out of the throne hall.  Ëamor noted the female elf's quiver of arrows; he thought it odd that elf women carried weapons.  After the guards shut the doors behind the elves, King Dândturos rubbed his temples.
"By the gods above and below!  Muldorn this and Muldorn that!  Do you really think the god would lead a human nation?"  He sighed.
"It does seem unlikely, my Lord."  Farron, the Chief Advisor said, "but this is a very unlikely world the gods have made; and the tales of the west are indeed grim."
"I suppose.  I just hope the elves aren't planning a military campaign against the Ullanis Empire anytime soon."
"That would be most un-elf like in my opinion, Master."  Farron said.
"Very well, I've made my descicion, call them back in."
The elves glided back into the hall once the doors were opened.
"Tell King Finlúin I'll accept his pact."
"Excellent, your Majesty," the elf envoy said, an elf standing next her handed her a large, white falcon.  She whispered something in the bird's ear, then let it fly out the open window, "King Finlúin should receive the message in a few days time."  
The elves left not long after, riding off on their deer steeds.  But one stayed, the one who had first looked at Ëamor, stayed to learn of the ways of men.