Delvia Silverbough And The Way Home

Chapter 1:

"Thwack!"
"Impressive," Castien, my older brother nodded. "As always."
I also nodded toward the target. It was a bull's eye. I had split the previous arrow down the middle with a new one. Nothing new, yet I could still appreciate the accuracy. Did I also mention that the target was past a waterfall, through the window of Flamedancer, between a deer's antlers and through a hollow log?
I ran my hand along the smooth surface of my bow. It was called Curacky (in Elven) or Accuracy in English.
A low whistle rang through the forest. It was Chantilly, the bird who called the elves for dinner.
"Time to dine!" Castien said, cracking a smile.
I laughed. I was lucky to have a funny older brother. Not all elves have the gift of humor.
We headed toward the Tree of Nourishment. That was the place elves came to if they were sick, becoming wed or for dinner. Our elven population is rather large, so the Tree of Nourishment is also large. By large, I mean COLOSSAL!
All trees that serve an important purpose like a home or a meeting place have names. The elf or elves who live there first, get the name as part of their name. My family and I live in Silverbough. That is also our name.
    I looked down at my legs as we walked. My short legs served as another reminder that I, Delvia Silverbough, am not an elf.
    When I was a baby, my mother and father; Maeraddyth and Laeroth, found me at the edge of the elven forests. At first they thought I was a village human. The village humans are uncivilized, unorganized, unsophisticated, unsanitized, people with no system of government or control. They live a short distance away from the elven forests in groups of small villages.
    My parents could soon tell I was not one of them. To the elves, I am a human. The other humans, we call village humans. My parents take care of me like I am one of their own. They treat me as well as they would treat any elf. They never have found out where I really came from, but to them, it doesn't matter.
I looked up at my older brother as we walked. Castien has white-blond hair that brushes his shoulders. The top layer is tied back behind his head, a simple and common elven hair style. He also has green eyes. He is very tall and slim, like all elves. Castien will be 2,126 years old this year. The average lifespan of an elf is roughly 10 000 years. Castien looked like about 17 if he were a human. I'm only 15.
The 15 year old elves are YOUNG, YOUNG, YOUNG babies. A one year old human baby is the same in maturity and growth as a 215 year old elf baby. Humans take a lot less time to grow, develop and reach their maximum age capacity compared to elves. So their lives are a lot shorter.
    I, very much unlike Castien, have auburn hair, which I usually have neatly braided from the top right of my head, diagonally down and left. From there, my hair simply hangs in a braid. I also have un-pointed ears and freckles. I do have green eyes like the rest of the Silverboughs, but I am shorter than the average elf. I'm also not quite as slim either, (but you have to give me some slack, elves are literal toothpicks!) No other elf have  freckles or the colour hair I have. Elves have variations of blond and brown hair only.
    Just then Zenara Flamedancer dropped down beside me from a nearby tree. The wind from her movement rustled the leaves on the forest's floor. She stood up gracefully from her crouched position. It didn't even startle me. Elves do that kind of thing (and so do I).
    "I saw that shot through my tree's window." Zenara stated, matter of factly. "Nice one." she said, letting a grin crawl across her face.
    We all walked the rest of the way to the Tree of Nourishment together.